Читать книгу Mocha Pleasures - Pamela Yaye - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Jackson kept one eye on the clock hanging above the kitchen door and the other on Mariah. His sister was flittering around the room, wiping counters, cleaning cupboards, rearranging spices and supplies—all in all ruining his plans. He couldn’t cook a romantic dinner with Mariah lurking around, not without her asking a million questions, and if he didn’t get rid of her ASAP the appetizers wouldn’t be ready when his date arrived.

Jackson caught himself, striking the word from his mind. It wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting, an opportunity to learn more about the enemy and her shop, Sweetness Bakery. It was Lillian’s biggest competitor, the only thing standing in the way of greater profits and success. Jackson knew what he had to do. He had to get rid of the city’s oldest bakery—and its titillating master baker with the gap-toothed smile and decadent, Lord-have-mercy curves.

Past conversations with his dad while golfing at Rainier Country Club played in Jackson’s mind as he scrubbed the metal muffin tins soaking in the sink. Graham had always admonished him to keep his friends close, and his enemies closer—within striking distance—and he intended to take his dad’s advice. There was no way in hell he was going to let Grace and her father outshine Lillian’s of Seattle. He thought of telling Mariah about his numerous conversations with the master baker, but sensed it was a bad idea. He’d tell her tomorrow, after he’d successfully seduced Grace, and would call Chase to bring him up to speed, as well.

“Things were so busy this afternoon I didn’t get a chance to tell you the good news,” Mariah said, her tone infused with excitement. “Belinda called at lunch to tell me the Chicago clan is coming down for Bite of Seattle.”

Jackson twirled a finger in the air. “Lucky us.”

“Jack, give them a break. They’re trying to make amends for the past and build relationships with us. What more do you want them to do?”

“They think they’re better than us because Lillian’s of Chicago blew up but we’re every bit as good as they are, if not better.”

“I agree with you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be one big happy family.”

Jackson was confused. He couldn’t figure out why his siblings, namely Mariah, wanted to be besties with their snobby Chicago relatives. Over the years he’d reached out to them numerous times—invited them to his parents’ anniversary bash, to come celebrate the Christmas holidays and even offered to fly them to Seattle for a weekend—and even though they attended family events Jackson still didn’t feel close to them. And after the success of their “Brothers Who Bake” blog and bestselling cookbook, Carter, Belinda and Shari were busier—and snobbier—than ever. “What are you doing with yourself tonight?” he asked, wisely changing the subject. He didn’t want to argue with Mariah, and talking about their relatives always put him in a bad mood. “Where is Prince Charming taking you?”

A girlish smile covered Mariah’s face. “I don’t know. Everett said it’s a surprise, but I think he’s treating me to a home-cooked meal, and I can’t wait. He’s an incredible cook.”

“I’ll finish up here. Go ahead and get your grub on,” Jackson joked.

Instead of leaving, Mariah opened the closet and grabbed the wooden broom. “You’ve been here early every day this week, so if anyone should leave it’s you, so go ahead.”

“But it’s almost six thirty. Aren’t you going to go home and freshen up for your date?”

“There’s no time. I’ll just go straight to Everett’s place from here.”

“Dressed like that?” he asked, knowing full well his comment would get a rise out of her. “Okay, suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Now he had Mariah’s attention. She stopped sweeping, hitched a hand to her hip and fixed him with a dark, steady gaze. “Warn me about what?”

To buy himself some time, he turned the water on full blast and rinsed the dishes. Jackson didn’t know what Everett had planned for his sister, but faked like he did. Mariah had to leave before Grace arrived, and if he had to fib to make it happen then so be it. “Maybe Everett’s taking you out.” Jackson shut off the tap and dried his hands on his green apron. “Maybe he’s taking you to Le Gourmand for a romantic dinner, then to the Usher concert.”

Her eyes brightened, lit up like fireworks.

“Everett loves seeing you all dolled up, so go home, change out of those dirty clothes and put on your fanciest designer dress,” he instructed. “Trust me. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Mariah squealed and Jackson chuckled. He’d never seen his sister so excited. Glad the pain of his sister’s divorce was finally behind her, buried in the past where it belonged, Jackson made a mental note to thank Everett for taking good care of his sister when they played basketball on Wednesday.

“Does Everett have something big planned?”

“I don’t know,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “But what if he does? You don’t want to be covered in flour when your man romances you, do you?”

Mariah untied her apron and tossed it down on the counter. “Good point.”

“Have fun, sis, and tell Everett and EJ I said ‘What’s up.’”

The moment Mariah left the kitchen Jackson sprung into action. He had thirty minutes to cook and no time to waste. He was going to seduce Grace Nicholas, then persuade her to spill bakery secrets. The thought heartened him and a grin claimed his mouth. When he was through with the gorgeous master baker, she wouldn’t know what hit her. Whistling along with the hip-hop song playing on the satellite radio, Jackson grabbed the bottle of bourbon he’d hidden under the sink and got down to work.

* * *

Grace sat inside her silver Jaguar XF, berating herself for driving to Lillian’s after work instead of going home. Eight hours after leaving the bakery, with Bronwyn in tow, Grace was back, and for the life of her she didn’t know why. Common sense told her to drive off, implored her to stay far away from Jackson Drayson, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight could be a game changer. Maybe Jackson was right. Maybe they could be friends...allies.

Raindrops beat against the windshield and a cold chill flooded the car. The forecast called for heavy rain, which should have been reason enough for Grace to leave, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. Wanted to see what Jackson had up his sleeve. Why he’d invited her back to the bakery after closing. And if he was serious about them working together, or just playing mind games, like her ex. It was probably the latter, but Grace wanted to know for sure.

He invited you back here to put the moves on you. Isn’t it obvious?

The thought should have scared her, should have sent Grace running for the hills, but it didn’t. Deep down, she was attracted to him and flattered by his attention. Who wouldn’t be? Jackson knew what to say to make her smile, plied her with compliments, and Grace looked forward to seeing the sexy baker every morning. Truth be told, their flirtatious banter was the highlight of her day, a welcome reprieve from her troubled thoughts.

Go home before it’s too late, warned her inner voice.

Grace couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. She’d made the mistake of telling her dad about Jackson’s offer and he’d practically shoved her out Sweetness’s doors at six thirty. He’d insisted she return to Lillian’s, and although he was having dinner with friends tonight, he expected a full report tomorrow morning. Hell, he’d probably be sitting in her bedroom when she got home, champing at the bit for salacious gossip about their biggest competitor.

Thunder boomed and the wind howled, whipping leaves and tree branches around. The street was so dark Grace couldn’t see where the bakery was. Was Jackson even inside? Had he changed his mind about meeting her, and left at closing? There was only one way to find out.

Twisting around, she searched the backseat for her belted trench jacket, but didn’t find it among her things. If I’d gone inside ten minutes ago instead of hiding out in my car, I wouldn’t be stuck in the rainstorm now, she thought, annoyed with herself for acting like a scaredy-cat.

Grace dug around in her Fendi purse for something to shield her from the rain. Picking up her cell phone, she noticed she had two messages from Phillip and snorted in disgust. She wasn’t returning his call. What for? They were over and she had nothing to say to him.

Hearing a knock on the driver’s side window, Grace glanced to her right. Standing in the street, holding an oversized umbrella, Jackson looked more like a knight in shining armor than her business rival. Drawn to him, Grace feared she’d be putty in his hands when they were alone, but willed herself to resist his seductive charms. She saw his lips move, heard his voice, but the rain was so loud she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Let’s go inside. Everything’s ready...”

He gestured for her to come out of the car and stepped back to make room for her to exit the vehicle. Throwing open the door, Grace hopped out of her seat and took the hand Jackson offered. It was firm, felt nice around hers, and her heart smiled when he pulled her close to his side. Cold water covered her ankle-tie sandals and rain beat against her lace dress. The fabric stuck to her body like paint as they sprinted down the sidewalk and into the bakery.

Her eyes wide in surprise, a gasp fell from her lips. Grace was struck by how intimate the space looked, how sensual and romantic it was. The air held a savory aroma, potted candles filled the space with light and Bruno Mars was playing, singing earnestly about the woman he treasured. The table at the rear of the shop—the one they’d sat at that morning—was dressed in fine linen. Roses sat in a glass vase and a wine bottle was chilling in a bucket of ice.