Have Your Cake (18 page)

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Girl, just eat this cake.”

They took a chunk onto their spoons. Cyana knew on the first bite Iona wouldn’t like it.

“Nuh-uh, Girl.” Her brows raised. She shook her head profusely. The napkin rip was quick. Iona’s second bite hit the wastebasket.

“It’s not bad. I mean, it’s grocery store quality,” she shrugged.

“Well, the last time I ate cake from a grocery store you were working there.” Iona moved the cake towards her. “I’m spoiled. You can have it.”

She sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t pass up cake, but I wanted to make a berry cobbler for dessert.”

“Berry cobbler?” Iona’s voice raised an octave. She grabbed the cupcake carton and turned it over in the trash, dumping the entire confection.

Cyana let out a noise of surprise as the uneaten cupcake splattered into the previously dejected icing and smeared down the side of the plastic liner.

“You’ll thank me later.” Iona closed the empty container and looked at the bottom. “This is nice packaging though. You should write down the web address.”

“Iona, my cake?”

“I don’t call
that
cake, Girl.” Iona said, before shifting away from the island.

Cyana’s phone rang, making her jump in surprise. The Huffing women were at the kitchen island enjoying berry cobbler with a scoop of homemade vanilla and white chocolate chunk ice cream. The device was charging for several hours. She’d activated the phone and texted the new number to her son, but didn’t think Eric would call so soon. She hopped up to retrieve it from its plug in, glancing at the digits she didn’t recognize. It was probably the wrong number. She never minded answering those calls to let them know. She reached her chair.

“Cyana Huffing,” she answered.

“Hey.” The smooth voice carrying over the phone made her heart pitter patter. Surprise urged her a few steps away from the barstool. Her mouth fell open. Her free hand went towards the heat sprouting in her chest.

“I, err.” Her attention darted across the floor as if looking for the tongue she’d suddenly lost.

“Your sister gave me your number.”

She shot Iona a disapproving glare through her mix of elation and dread. “Uh, hello, Asher.”

Iona straightened in her chair; turned away and looked behind her while fiddling with a long earring to feign innocence. When she twirled back, Cyana made a fist; then pointed at her.

“You’re so violent,” Iona mouthed.

Asher continued, “I hope it’s okay. I told her I had someone I wanted you to meet. He’s an entrepreneur with ten successful restaurant launches. When he heard about your business plan, he wanted to take a look at the details.”

Cyana sucked in a breath. She thought Asher’s rich voice over the phone would make her faint. She didn’t like this. The emotion garbled up and swirled around inside her, making her seem as if she was crazed.

She took choppy steps towards the table set to the left of the baking area and propped herself up before she could slump. In a fit, she grabbed the hand towel Mama draped over one of the chairs at the kitchen table. She folded it into a wad and threw it at Iona, smacking her sister in the face with the cloth and drawing out a noise of surprise.

“Um.” Cyana managed a sound. Relief she found her voice washed through her. Maybe she hadn’t completely lost her mind yet. “Wa-When does he want to meet?”

Iona shot her a questioning glance. Cyana raised her free hand to the sky while shrugging. “Tomorrow at two. With Iona?”

Iona nodded.

“Okay. We’re clear to show up. Who are we meeting? Herman Wright. Okay. Bye.” She hung up and growled. “How did he know he could call me? How did he get my number? Iona!”

Iona raised her eyebrows and slid over to the laptop on the island. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is he’s been blowin’ up my phone.” She typed in a search for Herman Wright as Cyana came behind her.

“You shouldn’t give out my phone number without talking to me first.”

“He’s our employer. He should have it,” Iona said.

“No, he’s your employer. There’s no confirmation for me.”

A message popped up on the screen. “Oh, really?” Iona said, before opening the e-mail with a familiar title. She hit the print button on the attachment. “Looks like you got a cake order,” she sang.

“What?” Cyana’s heart seemed to do a back flip. “Are you serious?”

“Go check the printer,” Iona urged, shooing her away with both hands.

She ran to the printer and snatched the paperwork the moment it dropped into the tray. “Red velvet, chocolate mousse between the layers, cream cheese icing,” she rattled off. Excitement sprouted in her. She clutched the paper to her chest.

“I know this guy.” Iona’s revelation snatched Cyana’s attention. She came back to where her sister stood at the computer. “Mr. Herman Wright, owner and operator of River Rocks Restaurants Incorporated. I’ve seen him before. He’s known for investing in restaurant business startups and mentoring owners around the south. He also shot us a proposal about three years ago.” She shook her head. “We turned him down.” Iona’s brow knit. “What does he want now?”

“Asher said he wanted to take a look at the Huffin Muffin business plan.”

“Girl, we should make those changes on your plan today.”

A
sher was grateful Thursday morning seemed to breeze past. Having Herman Wright scheduled for a visit always calmed him. He’d slept well. The rain had cleared the forecast until after the wedding. The air outside the mansion was alive with lawn care equipment. The mattress delivery employees were walking out of the door after settling a new bed in the guest room Asher slept in after Cyana took his bed. As they walked out, familiar designers started to pour in.

The dining area and dance floor sparkled with the morning polishing. The cleaning service had moved on to the bar. He busied himself by setting the tablecloths and colorful silk runners in place and positioning the low vases in the center of the table. The front door opened. Señora Wilmington entered the language of the staff. He set down the last vase and pivoted to his mother.

“Morning Mother.”

Sally regarded him with an upturned nose and tight lips. An entourage of design staff flowed behind her. Obviously, she wasn’t happy with Rebecca’s decision to keep Huffin Muffin and Huffing Kitchen on the books and blamed him. Her contempt failed to reach her glare so he resigned to ignore her as much as she desired to snub him.

“Laura.” He regarded her personal assistant.

Laura was a red-haired sliver of a woman with emerald eyes and large sparkling teeth accommodating a great smile. “Good morning, Mr. Wilmington. Where would you like us to set up?”

“The dance floor will give you a three-sixty view of the room. Lawn maintenance is a little behind due to the rain.” He held up his finger to quiet her before she asked. “One hour. You can use the porch to analyze your sketches against the set up.”

She nodded with her genuine smile. “You’re getting good at this.”

“It may have taken you seven years, but I’m trainable.” Sally humphed. He shot her a sideways glance. “To some.”

He pivoted and marched towards the front porch. It would be a matter of time now before Sally came face to face with her heart; the only man who truly cared enough to reach out to him. Once outside into the Georgia heat, he plopped himself down into one of the rocking chairs and waited. It might have been fifteen minutes before the silver Mercedes traveled down the drive. Asher came to his feet. Herman parked his car along the left side of the porch to steer clear of Sally’s crew unloading their design details from the truck.

The sight of Herman’s salt and pepper fade and connecting beard brought a smile to Asher’s face. The clear-eyed dark-skinned man stood tall after exiting the vehicle in a gray Italian suit. He wore a matching glow of fondness on his face. Asher trotted down the stairs and threw his arms around Herman. Asher squeezed him.

“My boy,” Herman said and chuckled. “Good to see you too, Son.”

“Thanks for comin’, Pops.” He released his father figure.

“You made it sound like you’ve got quite the emergency.” Pops walked with him up the stairs. “Is this all business, or of the heart?”

“Both,” Asher admitted.

“Ah hell, Son. It’s early. We’re gonna need a drink,” Pops said.

A
sher and Herman waded through the commotion Laura orchestrated on the dance floor and went for the bar. The twelve year old bottle of scotch Pops favored was Asher’s pick. He poured a generous amount in their glasses.

“Must be deep,” Herman said.

“To life.” Asher raised his glass. Pops toasted with him. He shifted his weight and leaned over the bar, staring at the spot Cyana once used as a gym floor.

“Sorry I haven’t spoken with you recently,” Herman said.

“Ah, Pops, don’t apologize. We’ve both been busy with life taking us in opposite directions.”

“So, you said there’s a new face in the Huffing Kitchen?” Herman asked.

“Yeah, Cyana Huffing.” He took a long breath and blew it out.

Herman chuckled and joined him in leaning into the bar. “What’d you really call me here for, Son?”

“Damn Pops.” He twisted towards Herman. “She could use some guidance. She’s smart as a whip, talented as hell and green to how business works.”

“You know Huffing Kitchen won’t sell to investors above twenty percent. It’s against the family’s will,” Herman said.

“Yeah, but she’s not a part of Huffing Kitchen. She has her own thing separate from her father’s legacy. Huffin Muffin, a bakery.”

Pops nodded. “Good name.”

“Her business plan is solid. I made some suggestions, but overall she’s done her homework and even has startup capital. She’s serious.” He nodded. “I thought an investor would take her over the top for sure. Since you got me the Milway, I didn’t want to pass on returning the favor for starting new ventures.”

Pops sipped at his glass. “You think she’s really ready to start?”

“She is. Doesn’t know it yet, but she is.” Asher took a swallow from his glass.

“So, why aren’t you investing in Huffin Muffin? Sounds like you nearly got the family business consolidated. A pâtisserie would fit nicely into Wilmington Weddings,” Pops said.

“The mind is willing but the flesh is weak.” Asher rubbed the back of his neck. “I got myself in deep with her. Might just ruin the proposal to invest in Huffing Kitchen here at the Milway.” He shook his head.

“Shoot straight with me, Son.”

“Ah Pops, she’s prettier than a speckled pup. I done gone and got myself involved with her physically. I can’t invest in the bakery. I’m not the right one to do it. Can’t be objective.”

“Hum.” Pops nodded. “Could be a problem.”

“Sally’s not making life any easier.” Asher’s free hand fisted. “Shoulda seen the way she treated this poor girl. Called her trash. Tried to shove another bakery on Rebecca. She insulted Huffing Kitchen’s food in front of Iona and had me damn near on my knees with apologies.”

Asher took no offense at Herman’s chuckle. “Sounds just like Sally. Sayin’ something she don’t mean in a tantrum.”

“Yeah, but Cyana heard it,” he grumbled. “Got the cold shoulder from her ever since. She only wants to talk business now. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to see her, possibly speak with her. Try to bury the hatchet.”

“So, you not only want me to take a look at the business plan, but give yourself some time to patch things up?” Pops asked.

Asher rubbed the back of his head. “You don’t mind, do ya? I mean, business before pleasure, but I’d like to have a crack at her after you’re done.”

“This whole thing could backfire, Son. You sure you wanna risk it?”

“Please, Pops.” Asher shoved up straight, feeling like a teenager asking to borrow his father’s car. “I gotta take the chance to figure this out. She’s planning on leaving after the wedding and heading back to Chicago. Now, Sally’s gonna be staying here at the Milway until the wedding is over. I just wanna be able to speak to Cyana with Sally acting like a human being. You’re God’s saving grace when it comes to her,” Asher said.

Herman nodded with a chuckle. “I can only do so much.”

“I need Cyana here. Just talk to her. Go over her plan. You’ll see I just need her.”

Herman eyed him with reservation for several seconds. Asher wasn’t quite sure what the man saw while staring at him, but it had Herman thinking. Wright finally sighed. “I’ll keep Sally out of the way.”

The breath Asher held rushed out.

“How is your mother?”

He took a sip of his scotch and caught the sight of Sally emerging at the top of the staircase. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? Looks like she just checked into Hotel Asher.”

T
he house quieted around two o’clock. Most of Sally’s work was completed without her. The moment she spotted Herman, the man had the effect Asher wanted to see. He’d ushered them into the Colonial room for privacy. Even having it cleaned hadn’t stripped the good energy he and Cyana left in there.

After his standard maintenance checks and cleaning inspections, Asher took a trip out of the house to focus his mind on something other than Cyana. The vendor meets were scheduled for tomorrow. He needed those doorstops on the mansion entrances and the stable kitchen doors. The trick of diverting his attention had worked. He was securing the last door stop to the entryway when the Civic drove up. His heart played ping pong in his chest. He stood, holding the door.
Just one look.

Laughter poured out of the car. Seemed like a Huffing thing to carry such happiness. He didn’t resist his smile. Cyana unfolded from the vehicle. Her womanly curves took shape in the flowing fabric of a long yellow maxi dress with bright green and blue paisleys on the bottom. The image of her burned into his memory. When she looked up, she had a smile on her face. After she spotted him, her gaze met the ground. She rubbed at her arm. The sight of her bashfulness melted him inside. He wanted to rush to her, whirl her in the air, clutch her to his chest and hold on for days until the world changed.

Iona was the first one to speak as she rounded the car. “Afternoon, Mr. Wilmington.”

He tipped his Stetson. “Afternoon there, Ms. Huffing.”

Iona held the portfolio for Huffin Muffin as she climbed the stairway with his prized beauty on her heels. She stuck out her hand and looked at him square on. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Wilmington.”

Her stare sparkled with sincerity. Relief neither he nor Sally ruined his chances washed into his gut while he shook her grasp. “Please, come inside.” She nodded and passed, giving him full access to his desire. “Cyana?”

He held out his hand. She glanced up at him a moment before turning her attention away and taking his grip. The heat of the contact mounted his arm and settled into the sore spot in his chest. He raised her hold to his lips and lingered in his gesture.

Cyana caught his gaze with surprise; then glanced away as if searching for something to focus on. “Asher, please,” she whispered.

The phrase twitched his cock. He loved those words for how raw and passionate they could be. He straightened. “I want to speak with you. Only for a moment after you talk with Herman.”

She nodded. “K. Um, thank you for the cake order.”

He shook his head. “Rebecca insisted after the tasting, we stick with you.” Her smile renewed and shoulder’s squared.

“After you.” He gestured inside. “Ladies, it’s a pleasure to have you here at the Milway. Please excuse the commotion. Things should be quieter tomorrow when you’re scheduled to come out and set up the kitchen. Mr. Wright is in the Colonial room. Follow me.”

A
sher’s tall figure led the way. Cyana reminded herself not to ogle his shoulders, waist or buns. Knowing the power humming through his body, didn’t help her contain the lust trailing the back of him to his boots. He leaned on the doorframe with his right elbow up towards the jams. The short sleeve of his flannel shirt tugged away from his well-developed biceps. Asher bent his right knee, which kicked his hip out. He hooked the thumb of his left hand into the belt loop next to his buckle. Cyana shuddered at the whole-heap-of fine standing in the doorway fiercely wrecking her focus.

“Pops, the Huffings are here,” he said. His voice carried lightly into the room as if he didn’t want to disturb something.

Iona shot her a backward glance and mouthed, “Pops,” with a confused expression.

Cyana shrugged.

“Asher, darling.” Sally’s voice neared the door, making Cyana stiffen.

Asher moved away from the entrance. Iona took a step back as Ms. Wilmington floated through with the most sincere smile Cyana had ever seen on the woman. She kissed his cheek. “Lovely.” She cupped his face with both hands. “I’m going to settle in. Thank you.”

“Mother, we even?”

“Absolutely, my dear. Just marvelous.” She caressed his chin before spinning back towards the dark man who followed her out. He was as big as Asher with a nearly all white fade and trimmed beard connecting seamlessly to frame his handsome face. “Do stay for the wedding, Herman.” Sally held out both her hands. He took them, raising them to his lips. When he released her, she waved over her shoulder and seemed to float away on a cloud.

Cyana watched her with a blank expression, trying to figure out what she’d seen. Asher’s voice wrenched her from confusion. “Cyana and Iona Huffing, I’d like to introduce Mr. Herman Wright, restaurateur and business investor.”

Herman shifted to them with a warm smile. A pleasant gleam sparked in his gaze, making Cyana feel at ease. The grip of his meaty hand was firm without being bone crushing. “You’re the beautiful Huffing I have yet to meet,” he said.

She cast her gaze to the floor a moment. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wright.”

Herman shifted to Iona. “And how is your lovely mother?”

“She’s very well, Sir. Thank you,” Iona said.

“Please, come inside and have a seat, ladies. There is much to discuss. Did you bring your portfolio?” Herman asked.

Iona opened it on the table, the same table Cyana remembered being flung aside when Asher wanted to get his hands on her. His mouth on…
oh my god. Cyana, stop it.

“Do you mind walking me through it?” Herman asked.

N
ear the end of the portfolio review, Asher strolled into the room with the photos he’d taken of her with the five mini sample cakes.

“Pops, here’s some images of the ones she made for Rebecca.” He got comfortable across from her and to the left of Herman. Asher leaned toward the portfolio, giving it his interest. Cyana made an effort to suppress the warmth blossoming in her center and heating places below while she studied his features.

Herman evaluated every shot and commented of how impressed he was with her work. Asher gave the man his full attention and seemed to be listening closely. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d think it was his business he was trying to sell with as much interest as he showed their meeting.

Herman set her photos into the binder. “These will make excellent additions.” He sat back in the seat. “I’m prepared to make you an offer today, Ms. Huffing. I’d be honored if you would give it your complete consideration.”

Cyana’s belly knotted. She shoved her palms under her thighs to hide her nervousness. “Yes, sir.”

Herman produced a long leather wallet from the breast pocket of his grey suit and started to scribble. “You don’t have to give me an answer today. In fact, I’d prefer you allow the offer to remain open for a minimum of ten days. It expires within thirty. Run the numbers. Take a look at the full bid. I never enter a venture with just money on the table, Ms. Huffing. I think it gives the impression I’m not interested in you as an owner. Doing business with me places such notion far from the truth. You become family.” He tore the long sheet of paper and folded it.

When he handed the document over, he enclosed her hand in his warm grasp. “I look forward to adding you to my family, Ms. Huffing.”

She smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

He released her. Asher stood, holding out his hand. She knit her brow and stared up at him.

“Come on. You and me. To the kitchen,” he urged.

Her mouth fell open in protest. She passed a glance to Mr. Wright.

“It’s okay, Ms. Huffing. Our business is done for the day. I would like to speak with Iona a few moments, however.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded and took Asher’s hand.

He commanded their stride. She had to trot to keep up with his headlong pace through the ensemble of bodies adding color to the Milway. They entered the kitchen. Asher didn’t speak right off. He showed her to a stool at the island, shooed everyone stocking the cabinets with dinner plates and serving trays. He fished two bottles of water from the fridge and opened hers after they were alone. She took it with a small “Thanks”.

He spied the folded paper in her grip. “So, what did he offer?”

She blinked. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head. “Pops runs his own business. We’re not connected.”

“Oh, but I thought…”

“If you do business with him, it doesn’t involve the Wilmingtons.”

She huffed out a breath, repositioning the curl over her eye. “Um.” Her hand trembled. “I’ve never gotten an offer before.”