A Tablespoon of Temptation (A Recipe for Love Novel Book 1) Page 5

  He shook his head. “Basically, you did her job.”

  “Of course not. I helped run the reports and order supplies.”

  “Right.” He nodded to the coffee in her hand. “You gonna drink that?”

  “Yes.” Tentatively, she brought the cup to her lips. Expecting the bitterness to bite her tongue, the sweetness coating her taste buds was a surprise. “It’s good.” She smiled.

  “I got it right?”

  She laughed. “It could be sweeter.”

  He kicked off the divider. “So could you.” He winked and walked away.

  Chapter 6

  James

  James looked at his watch. Time for coffee. He rushed out of the resort to go to the barista across the street. The coffee in the restaurant was decent, but it didn’t have the kick he needed. He was sure Danielle would appreciate a nice strong brew too since they tore apart the lounge several days before. Running crews 24/7 made everything happen quickly.

  He ordered two double shot Americanos. While he waited, he filled his pockets with sugar packets.

  It had been two days since he’d seen her. She spent a great deal of time mentoring her employees and mingling with the guests. The only time she was in the office was at the start and the end of the day.

  On the other hand, he’d seen a lot of the other department heads, who seemed to camp at their desks eating and internet shopping. Only Danielle, Willetta, and Flynn appeared to work.

  “Order for James.”

  He walked to the counter to pick up the cups. A hand reached out to take one.

  “How sweet.” Allie’s hand skimmed the coffee cup before he snatched it away.

  “Sorry, this one’s not for you.”

  Her precision plucked brow lifted. “Interesting.” She pointed to the line. “Wait for me.” She ordered her standard cup of nothing—a fat-free, sugar-free, caffeine-free latte.

  Standing by him, she eyed the coffees but said nothing. “I got the weekly reports for the departments. It’s grim.”

  He kicked back against the counter. “Did you know Danielle put those reports together?”

  Allie smiled. “Is that why they’re so good? I couldn’t imagine Paul delivering anything so comprehensive. She even calculates week-to-week, month-to-month, and year-to-year changes.”

  “Turns out she’s been running things for Avis for a long time.”

  “When did you find that out?” She reached for a napkin and a stir stick.

  “The day I accidentally plastic-wrapped her into the room with the cubicles.” Thankfully, the focus of her anger was the lack of coffee and not being trapped inside.

  “How did that go over?”

  “She was remarkably nice considering we’d accidentally cut the power too.”

  “Way to make friends.”

  “Order for Allie,” the barista called out.

  She grabbed her coffee, and they walked out of the shop into the sun. Spring in the Rockies was always perfect. High on the peaks, the snow glistened white while at slightly lower elevations, flowers popped through the soil and the Aspens began to bud. James loved the spring. It was a time for fresh starts. A time for hopes to come to fruition. Luxe would be a huge success … he hoped.

  “Have you heard from Greed lately?” Allie asked.

  Leave it to his sister to place a cloud over him. “Hell no. She took her settlement and left for warmer weather. I hear she’s in Phoenix.”

  Allie laughed. “She’ll need the settlement for cosmetic surgery. That sun and dry climate will ruin her skin. I see fillers and Botox coming her way.”

  James didn’t want to talk about his ex-wife. “I don’t care if her face falls off.” She had stopped being beautiful the day she left him. “I’m just glad she moved far away.” Grace, who his family renamed Greed after the divorce, milked him for over a million. It was a small price to pay to get his life back.

  With her gone, he could spend time in Aspen again. Years ago, he owned a house and called Aspen home. Once he and Grace’s relationship fell apart, he stayed away as much as possible to avoid her. Funny how absence caused his marital problems and solved them at the same time.

  “What about you?” He and Allie were both staying together at their father’s winter vacation home but rarely found the time to talk about silly things like relationships. “Anyone new in your life?”

  She nearly tripped when her heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. “Nope. After the last disaster, I’m happy to stay single.”

  “Me too.”

  She laughed. “We’re both such good liars, I’d almost believe us. Who would think having money would be such an issue?”

  They entered the massive glass doors of Luxe. He was pleased to see they were smudge-free and sparkled like a diamond.

  “Good call on the plastic floral monstrosity.” James walked to the round walnut table and smelled the fresh flowers. The arrangement was large, but it didn’t block the view to the registration desk, the new chandelier, or the plush couches in the common area. “What’s this pink and white one that smells so good?”

  “It’s a stargazer lily. They last a long time too.”

  Allie’s heels clicked on the marble floor as they headed toward the elevator. Funny how he could recognize the distinctive staccato of her walk.

  The car appeared, and they entered. There wasn’t any traffic to the now vacant tower, and an eerie silence blanketed them.

  As the door closed, a voice called for them to wait.

  With hands full, James stuck his boot between the doors to open them back up.

  Danielle rushed in. “Sorry for the delay.” She was breathless.

  He handed her the cup of coffee, “This is for you.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Umm … thank you. That was kind.”

  Allie’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

  He pressed the buttons for the twelfth and thirteenth floor.

  “Interesting,” Allie said as she exited on twelve.

  Danielle stepped forward and asked. “Is there something I can do for you? Did you want to get into any of the rooms?”

  Allie held up her key. “Nope. I’ve got it under control. Until we finish the offices, I’ll hole up here.”

  Danielle stepped back inside, and the doors closed. “I didn’t know she was staying in the hotel.”

  James rested against the wall. “Is that a problem? It makes sense for her to be close to work.”

  At the next stop, they exited, and he followed her to her desk.

  At the first sip of her coffee, she frowned, and he laughed. After balancing his coffee on the edge of the cubicle divider, he dug into his pocket for the sugar packets. He laid no less than twenty on her desk.

  Her giggle filled the quiet room. “You’d make a good drug mule.”

  “I don’t think they shove that stuff in their pockets.”

  Her cheeks blushed pink. “You’re right. I’d stick to what you do.”

  “Driving you crazy with dust and noise?”

  She shrugged. “Better than shoving stuff up your …” She shook her head. “Not a good vision.”

  He turned around and looked at his ass. “Never had complaints before.”

  “Forget it.” She waved her hand toward the slit in the plastic. “Get to work so I can too.” She emptied the sugar into her coffee, and the next sip brought a smile to her face. “Americano? How did you know?”

  He was pleased he’d gotten it right. His track record with women wasn’t all that good.

  “I didn’t. It’s what I like, only I prefer a little sugar in my coffee, not a little coffee in my sugar.”

  “I’ve got a sweet tooth.”

  “You’ve got an addiction.” He was almost to the plastic when she called him back.

  “When will you complete the lounge?”

  “I thought you liked my gift.”

  She stood and looked at him. “I do, but you’re right, I have an addiction, and I need several of these
a day. Thanks for the first one.”

  “Bet you had two at home before you came to work.”

  She held up three fingers. “You’re close. With all the changes happening, I needed more.”

  He knew his brows were furled because of the strain between them. “Is the change all that bad?”

  She took a few seconds to answer. “Not sure yet. It’s unsettling to not know where I stand. Eventually, they’ll choose a new general manager, and that will bring more disruption.”

  He walked back and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Sometimes change is exactly what we need.” Her blue, button-down felt silky under his fingertips. Would her skin be as soft? He glanced at her lips, so full and pink. Would they?

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  He stepped back. There was something about her he liked. Was it her drive? The way she appeared tough and vulnerable at the same time? The way she refused to make excuses for herself? Maybe it was the light floral scent of her perfume.

  “I think you’ll be okay. You appear to be proficient at your job and everyone else’s.”

  She leaned forward and looked at him like he was a science project—a germ in a Petri dish. “A compliment from you? The man who told me I should know about the secret love nest tucked behind the general manager’s office?”

  “I was wrong.”

  She picked up a pen and notepad. “Let me jot this down. James was wrong.” She said the words as she wrote them. “Can I get you to initial this so people know it’s real?”

  “Now you’re a comedian?”

  She tossed the pen and pad on her desk. “Jack of all trades. Master of none.” She reached for her coffee. “You never answered my question. When will you finish the lounge?”

  “End of next week. We’re making it a fully functional kitchen with working appliances and everything. It will have a microwave from this century.”

  “What about the apartment?”

  “Gone except for a small studio in case the new general manager needs to stay the night.”

  She walked toward the plastic and ducked between the opening.

  “That’s a shame. I loved that floor.”

  “I’ll try to repurpose it just for you.” He turned left, and she turned right. “By the way,” he called over his shoulder. “I hear there will be a potluck for the lounge opening. The new owners are supplying lunch, and the department heads will bring dessert.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He shouldn’t know anything, but he did. “Allie told me today when I saw her at the coffee shop. You know how to cook, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m a master cake maker.” Her head movement shook from left to right while her words claimed yes. He wondered if she realized it.

  “Great, can’t wait to taste what you’re making.”

  Chapter 7

  Danielle

  The email came in at lunch when Danielle was covering the registration desk for an employee with an emergency. She’d read it three times.

  Let’s celebrate. Lunch is on us. Dessert is on you. Cakes, cookies, or pies. Whatever you like. Time to impress us with your culinary skills.

  Allie and Julian

  Alistair, the other partner, wasn’t mentioned. No doubt still overseeing another project. She pulled up all their bios on the company website. They were missing pictures. Inside the blocks it said, Coming Soon. What would an Alistair look like? The name conjured either a yuppie in a suit and no socks or a dork with a comb-over hiding his shiny bald spot.

  There was no time to think about him and search further when she needed to figure out where to buy an impressive dessert.

  How was she supposed impress anyone with her culinary skills when she couldn’t make toast? When she was a kid and burned the bread, her mother used to tell her to scrape it until it became the color she liked.

  She did her usual routine when anxiety struck; she called Trish.

  “Where can I get a cake that will impress?”

  “Impress who?”

  “Does it matter?” She straightened the guest brochures.

  “Yes. Especially if Connie’s Confections, your standard go-to isn’t suitable.”

  “I need to make something for my bosses. They’re asking us to impress them with our culinary skills.”

  “You can’t claim skill if you buy a cake. Make it.”

  She leaned against the counter. “You know I can’t cook.”

  Trish cleared her throat. “Perfect time to use those books. You know the ones that are probably still in the back of your SUV.”

  “I brought one in.” The heart book sat on her counter still untouched, but it was inside her home.

  “Shocking.”

  “Whatever. Can you get a kitchen pass to come over? I'll give it a go but if it’s awful, I’ll need a backup.”

  “Do you need the cake by tomorrow?”

  “No, but I need to practice so I don’t kill anyone.”

  Trish laughed. “This is something I have to see. I’ll even opt-out of sexy time with Rob to watch this train wreck. Let me make sure your policy is up to date.”

  “Haha.” Trish owned the insurance company Danielle used. “If I burn down the house, I want a high estimate for repairs.”

  “You’ll get what’s fair.”

  “Speaking of fair, I saved you from a claim on my car. This time someone hit me instead of the other way around.”

  “Someone hit you? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. It’s a long story, but all you need to know is since he hit me, he was at fault.”

  “And your car?”

  “A little ding in the bumper.”

  “Whew, you can’t afford a rate hike.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What time do you want me to come over?”

  “I need supplies. What does it take to bake a cake?”

  Trish laughed. “I have no idea. I buy my cakes at Connie’s. Text me when you’re home.” She hung up before Danielle could comment.

  It was well after six when she pulled into the local grocery store. She preferred it to the big chains. Going to the small store was like visiting friends. Everyone knew each other.

  “Evening, Danielle,” Betty Davenport said as she entered. “You coming for frozen pizza or the egg salad sandwich tonight?”

  Had she become that predictable? What had she eaten the night before? Egg salad. She let out a groan.

  “I need whatever it takes to bake a cake.”

  Betty’s forehead wrinkled with the lift of her brow. “You bakin’?”

  “That’s the plan.” She pulled a grocery cart from the stack lined up by the door and moved forward.

  Betty left her spot at the register and walked to where Danielle stood.

  “What kind of cake?”

  Could a head explode—literally explode? Danielle’s felt like hers might pop any minute. She didn’t make cakes. She ate them. If the dimple on her right butt cheek was an indicator, she ate too many. Or … maybe that was from the mound of sugar she put in her coffee.

  “No idea. Aren’t they all about the same?”

  “No. There’s apple spice and orange and cinnamon cakes. There are speckled birthday cakes like the ice cream you eat by the gallon. There’s white cake and yellow and chocolate cake. What about red velvet?”

  She didn’t know what was in the cookbook.

  “My head hurts. Can you help me get the basics or the stuff required to make several varieties?”

  “What about a boxed cake? All you need is the mix and a can of frosting, plus water, oil, and eggs.”

  It would be an easy out, but wouldn’t that be the same as buying one? Danielle never quit anything she started, which was why her divorce was so painful.

  “I’m making it. Set me up with everything I might need.”

  Thirty minutes later, she walked out of the store with two bags of baking supplies and a frozen pizza.

  She sent a text
to Trish and told her it was time. An immediate reply said to get started without her because they moved up sexy time, and she’d be over within the hour.

  An hour? Chris never lasted an hour.

  “Some girls have all the luck.”

  She carried in the supplies and stared at them sitting on her counter. Half of the ingredients were foreign. What the hell was baking chocolate?

  She unwrapped the corner of the bar and took a bite. Immediately, she spit it into a nearby napkin.

  “Gross.”

  Next, she opened the bag of chocolate chips. While she ate a handful, she peeked inside the cookbook.

  There was a preface. A hand-written note on the inside front cover. This wasn’t a store-bought book, but one passed down from generation to generation. If the smudges and stains spoke to its age, it was ancient and well used.

  Dear Baker,

  Everything I learned about love, I learned from baking.

  Everything you need to know about love, you’ll learn here.

  Because you’re reading this, it means you’ve accepted the challenge of choosing one recipe, perfecting it, and passing on the book.

  As with everything in life, baking takes effort. Like love, it can’t be rushed.

  Have you ever wondered why baked goods require certain ingredients?

  We add sugar to bring out our inner sweetness.

  Salt gives life its flavor.

  Flour is a binder like honesty and faithfulness.

  Butter is the guilty pleasure in the mix.

  Baking soda lifts like a bright smile on a dull day.

  Without these, a cake is not a cake, and a pie not a pie. Without love, a life isn’t worth living.

  Baking, like love, should be done with passion.

  I challenge you to pick one recipe and only one because love shouldn’t be hoarded but shared.

  Choose the right recipe, and if you can’t decide, open the book to a page and let the recipe choose you.

  Share the dessert but not the book. There will be time for that later.

  Remember, a perfect cake, or pie, or cookie is like perfect love. It’s takes practice, patience, give and take, resourcefulness, perseverance, and often teamwork.