The Baker's Touch (4 page)

Metal clattered to her right. She pressed her fingertips to her head and they came away damp. “Great. Just great,” she muttered.

“Is she okay?” This came from across the room.

“Yeah.” Avery stepped close, his hands on her shoulders.

When he leaned closer, she held her breath. Awareness crackled through her veins. She clutched her hands at her side. What was wrong with her? Being this close to Avery had never produced this type of reaction before. Why now? She slowly exhaled. It was probably all that pent-up sexual energy and nightly erotic dreams didn’t help.

“Why did you move?”

“I thought someone else was here,” she said. His fingers brushed her hair from her face.

“You should put antiseptic on that and keep it covered.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Who did you think was here?”

She opened her mouth and quickly closed it. Heat cruised her cheeks. It was bad enough she smacked her head, but if her mystery man was here and witnessed the whole thing she’d die of embarrassment. “Shay said I had a delivery.”

“Avoidance?”

“You should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh. Stay put.”

She touched her head again.

“And leave that alone. You’re worse than a two year old sometimes,” Avery admonished. Plastic rattled and the sound grew closer. “Hold this.”

She held out her hands and was mildly surprised when something heavy rested on her palms. She firmed her grip, plastic rustled. Balancing the gift with one hand, she explored with the other. The container wasn’t that big. No longer than a loaf of bread and about twice as wide. Maybe a basket of some sort. Through the thin plastic, her fingers discerned the shape of cylindrical bottles and something scrunchy.

Gentle pressure built where she’d scratched her head. Something cool dabbed at the cut, a moment before it erupted into fiery pain. She sucked a breath through clenched teeth and jerked away. Avery held her fast.

“What the heck was that?” she demanded when he finally released her.

“That was antiseptic,” he replied a hint of amusement in his voice. “Did that hurt?”

“Worse than hitting my head. Don’t ever do that again.” She frowned, tried to swipe at her head and he grabbed her wrist.

“Then next time I say be still, do it.”

A shiver of desire tiptoed down her spine at the quiet command. How often had she heard those words uttered in her dreams? She swallowed several times, hoping to regain what little control she had over her errant thoughts.

“What’s that look?”

 “What look?”

“The one on your face.”

“Why don’t you tell me? It’s not like I can see my own expression,” she quipped.

Avery laughed. “Right. Right.”

She tilted her head. “So what’s in the basket?” She brought it closer to her nose and sniffed. The faint scents of lavender and mint wafted to her nostrils. “It smells divine, but I doubt it’s edible.”

“No, it isn’t edible. Seems you’ve got everything you need for a luxurious bath.”

Pleasure stole through her. “How nice.” A long soak in the tub when she got home, would be the perfect end to her day. “Is there a card?” An envelope was pressed into her hand after the basket was removed.

Curious, she slipped the small stiff paper from the envelope and drifted her fingers over the front. Again, tiny raised dots met her sensitive fingertips.

Enjoy something steamy.

A flush heated her cheeks. There wasn’t a name at the bottom. She extended the card toward Avery. “Is it signed?”

“Sorry, P. Just another sandwich drawing.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m guessing all of this is leading to some sort of big reveal with Valentine’s Day being what, three days away?”

“Yes, three days.”

“All right.” She tucked the gift under her arm and carefully made her way to the swinging double doors. “Tell James I’ll meet him in the back.”

“Will do.”

****

Sam was waiting for her when she arrived home nearly an hour later. Quick falling snow left the roads hazardous and the driving was slow. By the time James escorted her into the welcome warmth of the foyer, she was more than ready to try out her new bath stuff.

“Penny.”

She stifled a groan. “Who let you in here?”

“Um…some young lady. I threw myself on her good graces.” He cupped her shoulders and leaned down.

Penelope shifted, raised her hands and shoved him away. “I want you out of here.” She reached a hand out before her. “Mrs. Tilman,” she called. “Mrs. Tilman!” The woman was always around and if she let him in the house, they were going to have words. Wait. Did he say
young
lady?

“Honestly, Penny. Can’t we just let bygones be bygones?”

Footsteps beat a hasty staccato on the wood. A waft of vanilla teased her nostrils. Let bygones be bygones indeed.

“I’m more than willing to let that happen, but you keep turning up.”

“Miss Penelope.” The voice was young and a bit breathless. “My mother got called away and told me to stay until she returned.”

“Kassie.” Kassie was Mrs. Tilman’s youngest daughter and she often helped when she was home from school. “Oh, no. Is everything all right?” Penelope allowed the young woman to help her from her coat.

“Oh, yes. My brother locked his keys in the car and the company won’t release the vehicle without her signature.”

“And what’s the story with...my guest?”

“I—he arrived shortly after mom left,” Kassie said, her tone a bit strained.

Sam huffed. “I’m standing right here.”

“I’m aware of where you’re standing. You’re wearing that hideous leather jacket and Sheila’s perfume. Did you want something in particular or were you just in the neighborhood?”

“I heard about the break-in at the bakery and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The lack of concern in his voice was underwhelming and did little to convince her that he was there for her well being. No, something else was on his agenda. “I’m just fine. You may leave.”

Shuffling feet reached her ears. “Kassie, please show Sam the door. He has more than overstayed his welcome.”

“I come out of the goodness of my heart and you treat me like trash.”

“I seriously doubt you’ve got a heart. Why are you really here, Sam? We both know I’m not your ideal woman, let alone work in a profession suitable for a man of your intellect.”

Kassie’s muffled cough almost covered her blurted giggle.

“You are just ungrateful.”

“I’ve been called worse. Leave my home and never return.”

“You’ll regret throwing me out.”

“Actually, Sam, I feel pretty damn good.”

Cold blasted the entryway and she shivered. Grumbling drifted to her ears, then Kassie’s light tread and Sam’s heavier one. The door slammed shut and warmth returned to the foyer.

“I’m sorry, Miss Penelope. I had no idea—”

She held up a hand cutting off the apology. “It’s okay.” She allowed Kassie to lead her into the dining room. “How’s school?”

“I got the surgical residency at the hospital.”

“Fantastic news. We should celebrate.”

“Sleep is celebration for me.” They paused and Kassie placed Penelope’s hand on the back of a rounded wood chair. “That’s a beautiful basket and it smells heavenly.”

Penelope felt for the table, placed her gift on the surface and sat down. “A gift. I have a secret admirer.”

“Oh, how romantic.” Awe filled the other woman’s voice. “Mom told me about your mystery man from New Year’s Eve. Do you think he sent this to you?”

“I’m not sure. For a second I thought he was in the shop today and smacked my head on something.”

“Oh, dear.”

She chuckled. “I’m fine.”

“How does Avery feel about the gifts?”

“Avery?”

“He goes all soft when you’re in the room.”

“He seemed happy about it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And how do you feel about Avery?”

The question caught her off guard, but the answer must have shown on her face.

“Interesting. I’ll bring your dinner. Mom made meatloaf. Said you might need some comfort food this evening.”

Penelope’s lips curved upward. “She’s right.”

“I’ll go check on dinner.”

“I’ll be in my office. I need to check something Avery mentioned earlier.” The familiar scent of orange, lemon and various wood undertones helped to ease the tension from her body. She didn’t need her cane here. Each room held a different scent and texture. The furniture seldom moved and she had a housekeeper/live-in assistant who helped with the day-to-day running of her home, thanks to her parents.

That was the only way they were going to allow her to live on her own. She was grateful for her parents, but sometimes they worried too much, just like her best friends. The only way she could prove to any of them that she was capable of living a full and productive life was to work in the family business, PB & J Bakery.

Dinner could wait a moment. She wanted to check a few things on her computer. With ease, she moved down a hallway and twisted the knob on the third door to her right. As a rule, doors were left closed. She was less likely to run into the wood that way.

She crossed the threshold. Aged leather and fruitwood greeted her. Six paces to the high back executive chair. She eased into the seat and swung it around until her legs were beneath the desk. Carefully, she skimmed her hands over the surface. Sometimes Mrs. Tilman liked to leave mail scattered on the desk. Her way of keeping Penelope on her toes. Finding none, she reached for the small headset beside the keyboard and slipped it over her head.

Using voice commands, she opened her web browser and listened as each email recipient was read to her. She rolled her eyes at the numerous messages from dating sites. How did those keep getting into her inbox, when she seldom surfed the Internet?

“Delete last five messages,” she said. “Continue.” She blinked. “Rewind and replay.” That couldn’t be right. She listened again, turning the volume up.

“To proceed with this transfer, please re-type your security code. If you’ve received this message in error, please...”

Penelope snatched off the headset and scrambled for the phone. If there was anyone who could help figure out and fix this mess, it would be Violet. She hastily punched in the numbers and listened to the ringing on the other end. “C’mon. C’mon. Pick up.” The phone was answered on the fourth ring.
“Violet? Are you busy?”

“What’s up, P? You sound upset.”

“Uh, just walked in the door and then had to have Sam thrown out. Then I get an email from the bank about a transfer. I don’t know what’s going on. You know my bank isn’t user friendly.” The other woman chuckled at that. Penelope listened. Clicking. She frowned, trying to decipher the sound, ahh fingers hitting a keyboard came through loud and clear.

“I think I got it. Someone has been trying to access your account. Almost transferred all the bakery’s capital.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Don’t get your thong in a twist. I canceled it and changed your password. Good that you called me.”

Relief sagged her shoulders and she exhaled. “Thanks, Vee. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, P. Happy to help.” Now that the disaster had been averted, her friend didn’t sound so cheery.

“What’s the matter with you? Lemme guess. You and Francis aren’t bumping pelvises anymore?”

“Is ‘bumping pelvises’ a technical term? Or something they teach you in the baking business?” She sighed. “Why is there this sudden interest in my love life? And can you tell me when it became a federal offense to accept a damn cup of coffee? It wasn’t even a large.”

Penelope swallowed a giggle. “You’re upset over coffee?”

“A girl needs her caffeine. The earlier the better.”

“I’m in total agreement with that, but it sounds like you need more than java. You need a double shot.”

“More like a double barreled shotgun. Don’t start with me, Penelope. It’s bad enough Moira left a message about washing machine sex.”

Now she did laugh. “I knew it!”

A chuckle drifted through the line. “I know, I know. Wonder if it was during the spin cycle.”

A slow hiss, like steam being released filled the remaining silence.

“You’re at the coffee shop?”

“Jeez, P. You don’t miss a trick. Now this bank thing...focus on what’s important.”

“You already took care of that. Now my focus is coffee. You. Upset. Coffee guy must be flirting with you again.” Rustling clothes and the quiet squeak of a chair filled the momentary silence.

“Penelope, I promise if you mention my love life one more time I’ll send your parents pictures from our trip to Mardi Gras. I’m sure they’d love to see those.”

She sucked in a breath. Her cheeks flamed just dredging up that very fuzzy memory of beads and sexy men from freshman year. “So what’s the problem?”

Violet chuckled. “Much better.”

Penelope rubbed her temple. First Sam. Now this? “Thanks, Violet.”

“It was a pretty juvenile attempt. Woulda worked too if they hadn’t had to put in another password.” Metallic scraping screeched through the line. “For God’s sake, what is he doing here?”

“Who?”

More scraping and then rustling. Raised voices echoed through earpiece. “Oh, this is going to get ugly and fast. I’ll call you later. Oh. Wait. You find your mystery man yet?”

“No, but he’s still leaving me gifts.”

“Sweet.” A loud crash echoed through the line. “Later.”

Penelope lowered the handset. Why did she have the sneaking suspicion that Sam was behind the attempted theft?

****

Forty-five minutes later Penelope eased into fragrant, swirling water. She sank into her bath all the way to her chin and leaned her head against the bath pillow. A long sigh escaped her lips as the tension drained from her limbs. The jets buffeted her body and she inhaled the sweet scent of lavender and mint.

She lifted one hand from the water and carefully slid her fingers along the lip of the tub until she found her glass of wine. She raised the flute to her lips. The cool fruity liquid splashed over her tongue and trickled down her throat.

With each swallow she let go of the stresses of her day. The door was repaired. Business would resume as usual. Sam was his usual asinine self. How dare he show up at her house. She sipped more wine, savoring the slightly mellow flavor. Other than the gifts, one of which she was enjoying at the moment, her mind fluttered to Avery.