A Tablespoon of Temptation (A Recipe for Love Novel Book 1) Read online

  He made sure she got into her car safely and watched her drive away. When he glanced at his watch, he groaned. It was only seven o’clock. There were a dozen hours before he’d see her again.

  Women were all kinds of trouble. Would Danielle be the good kind?

  Chapter 9

  Danielle

  She set all the ingredients out and took inventory to make sure she had everything she needed.

  To anyone on the outside, it would appear as if she was readying herself for something monumental. Something like open-heart surgery.

  She tied on the apron and stared at the oil and sugar and salt, hoping to bake them into submission.

  The minute she opened the flour, her phone rang, and the screen lit up with Trish’s smiling face.

  “Can’t talk. I’m getting ready to dive into baking again.”

  “That’s my girl. Fail once, try again. Fail twice; maybe you should buy the cake.”

  “Quit it. I’m determined to master this baking thing.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Before Danielle could say no, Trish had hung up.

  To build her courage, she pulled a bottle of wine from the rack and poured herself a glass. She needed to have one down to deal with Trish and the pressure of baking the perfect cake.

  Ten minutes later, her friend rushed into the kitchen.

  “Am I too late to see the disaster?”

  Danielle flicked a teaspoon of flour at Trish, and it dusted her dark hair.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Why did you come over? This is hard enough without you making fun of me.”

  “I’m not making fun of you. I’m finding the humor in your mess.”

  “Not helping.”

  Trish grabbed a glass and poured herself some wine. “Like I said before, no one can ignore a train wreck. Besides, I have an investment in your hobby.” She pointed to the apron. “I bought the uniform and some equipment.”

  “Fine. Sit down. If you’re here, you need to be a taster.”

  Trish reached into her bag and pulled out a jumbo-sized bottle of antacids. “I came prepared.”

  With the recipe book folded open to show only the cake she was working on, Danielle followed the directions to a T.

  “Does it say rounded cupfuls? What about rounded teaspoonfuls?” Trish piped in.

  “No, but if the ratio is the same, what does it matter?”

  “Size matters, Danielle. Everyone knows that. It’s the universal truth about everything, including diamonds, cups of flour, and penises.”

  “I’m only dealing with flour, so let me do my thing while you ponder the others.” She mixed the dry and the wet ingredients together.

  “How’s the construction hottie?”

  “Who said he was hot?”

  Trish talked with her hands, which sliced through the air like sharp daggers. “You’ve mentioned him before, so there must be something good about him.”

  Danielle poured the batter into the pans. “I haven’t found him naked and doing someone on the counter.”

  “That was only once. Get over it.” Trish reached into the bag of chocolate chips and took several. “Tell me more about him. James, right?”

  “He still brings me coffee every morning.”

  Trish sat up taller. “That’s commitment. Tell me more?”

  Danielle slid the pans into the preheated oven and set the timer. “He showed me the new offices.”

  “Your new office?”

  “No, the new general manager and the owners.” Remembering the marble floor, she smiled. “He repurposed the old flooring because I loved it.”

  Trish nearly spit out her just sipped wine. “That old confetti colored carpet? That stuff is hideous.”

  Danielle walked around the island and perched herself on the end stool. “No, it’s a beautiful white marble with veins of gold.”

  “I think he likes you.”

  Did she dare say they had a date that wasn’t actually a date? It sure felt like one. Especially when he cupped her knee with his palm. The man was a live wire, and his touch made her hair stand up—in a good way.

  “I think you’re right, but it doesn’t matter because I’ll never date someone I work with again.”

  “You don’t work with him.”

  “That’s what he said.” Danielle left her chair and pulled out a box of cold pizza from the fridge.

  When Trish’s mouth fell open, Danielle knew she’d said too much. “Oh my God, he asked you out?”

  She tossed the box on the counter and took her seat. “He invited me to lunch, but I said no. Then he asked me to meet him for a drink that wasn’t a date.”

  “And?”

  As much as she tried, Danielle couldn’t hold back her grin. “I went.” She sipped her wine for courage. “I also paid.”

  “Cheap bastard.” Trish opened the pizza box. “Is this safe for me to eat?”

  Danielle laughed. “I didn’t make it.”

  Her friend wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Whew.”

  “He’s nice. It doesn’t hurt that he’s really handsome, but you know how I feel. Sleeping with Chris was the worst mistake I made.”

  “Not true,” Trish said over a bite. “Marrying Chris was worse. Sleeping with him was fine.” She filled their wine glasses again. “Maybe you should hop on the saddle again. Do you think James would be a good ride?”

  “No idea, but I imagine I wouldn’t know the difference. Chris was—”

  “Lacking?” Trish licked the red sauce off her finger. “You never once complained.”

  “Why would I? Some was better than none.” She showed a measure by putting her thumb against the first joint of her pinkie finger.

  “No way. I’m so happy you divorced that little pecker.”

  Danielle had spent months wallowing in self-pity. She blamed herself for the failure of their relationship. If she’d been prettier. More interesting. Better in bed. But in hindsight, she should have known. Chris talked about nothing but himself and his successes. At the time, she saw that as confidence. He told her he was a catch, and she believed him. Now she knew the truth. Chris could love no one else because he was too in love with himself.

  They chatted for the next thirty minutes. When the timer for the cake went off, they stared at the oven.

  “You ready?” Danielle asked.

  “Almost.” Trish opened the bottle of antacids and washed a few down with her wine. “Ready.”

  Danielle pulled the oven door down with caution. Nothing would jump out. If it was anything like the last time, she was certain it would be dead. That poor cake made its way to the trash can the minute Trish walked out the door, but this one looked better. Better was a loose term. While it wasn’t cracked like dried clay, it wasn’t right. One side had sunk.

  “I’m a failure.” She pulled the pans out of the oven and let them drop onto the counter. Whatever fluff they had whooshed out like a popped balloon. What remained resembled thick pancakes.

  “Let’s taste it before you flog yourself.” Trish slid off her stool and took a knife from the drawer.

  “Shouldn’t we let it cool?”

  Trish sliced into the first pan. “No way. Everything tastes better warm. If it’s bad now, it will be awful when it’s cold.” She gave them each a piece. “On the count of three. One. Two. Th—”

  “Wait.” Danielle reached for two napkins. “Just in case.”

  “Three,” Trish said and shoved the cake into her mouth. “Not awful. Not amazing either, but it’s better.” She looked at the piece still in Danielle’s hand. “You didn’t eat yours.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Just eat it.”

  She did and had to admit that while it wasn’t pretty to look at, it wasn’t bad to eat.

  “It’s hard to taste the chocolate.”

  Trish reached for the book, but Danielle pulled it away. “You can’t look at it.”

  “Why not?”
/>   “Because I want to do this myself. It’s my independence cake.”

  “If you call it that, then get red, white, and blue sprinkles. What’s it really called?”

  “Forever Fudge Cake.”

  “Something is wrong then.” She grabbed the bag of chocolate chips. “Are you sure this is the chocolate it called for?”

  “No, it asked for Baker’s chocolate and that stuff tastes like monkey ass.”

  Trish laughed. “Now you’re an expert?” She put her empty wineglass in the sink and kissed Danielle’s cheek. “I’ve got to go. Use the Baker’s chocolate and stick to level measurements.”

  “How do you know these things?”

  “I married a baker.”

  “He makes bagels.”

  “Same thing, but different.”

  They walked to the front door. “What if it sinks again? I only get one more try before the potluck.”

  “Make extra frosting.”

  “Oh no. I forgot about the frosting.”

  Trish laughed all the way to her car. “Save yourself and everyone else and buy the frosting.”

  “No way. I want them to eat it and think it’s really something.”

  Trish opened her door and tossed her purse inside. “Oh, they’ll think it’s something all right.”

  Danielle watched as the lights to Trish’s car disappeared. She hung her head and walked back inside. Currently her cake baking had the same success ratio as her relationships—total failure.

  When she entered the kitchen, she took a stool and dragged the book across the counter to read the preface again.

  Everything I learned about love, I learned from baking.

  “Hogwash.” Then again, maybe Adelaide knew something. Men were a lot like cakes. Sometimes they fell flat. Sometimes their emotions were an arid desert. Where was the decadent man of her dreams?

  She scraped the cake into the trash can and grabbed the last piece of pizza and the bottle of wine. Thoughts of love made her think of her marriage, and thoughts of Chris made her want to watch an episode of Murder, She Wrote.

  She stared at the cake from Connie’s Confections with its piped icing and little gold candies decorating the top. She nudged one to the side so it wouldn’t look perfect. She hated that she caved and bought the cake but given that she’d failed at wowing her new bosses on day one, she imagined giving them food poisoning wouldn’t go over well. She debated for several minutes about moving the cake to a plate now or in the morning. “Nothing like the present.” She pulled out her only platter. It was one her mother had given her for a wedding gift. A white scalloped plate that had been passed down through generations. It was supposed be used for happy occasions. It would be perfect for desperation as well.

  With the precision of a surgeon, she used a knife to separate the cake from its cardboard base and proceeded to gently slide the masterpiece onto the plate. On the last little shove, the whole thing toppled to the floor. She hadn’t realized each time she shifted the cake she was also shifting the plate.

  At her feet, in a mountain of chocolate and china shards was her future. She wanted to collapse in the pile and give up but the pile of bills sitting on the edge of the island meant she had to get up and fix it.

  She allowed herself five minutes to cry over the plate and another five for the fifty dollars she spent on the cake before she pulled out the ingredients to Adelaide Phelps Forever Fudge Cake.

  Hours later, spent emotionally and exhausted physically, she sat on the floor in front of the oven. “Please. Please. Please,” she said over and over again as she stared through the oven window to watch the cake bake. This was her last chance to make it perfect. She followed the recipe exactly—okay not exactly. She still couldn’t bring herself to use the bar of baking chocolate. Since the recipe asked her to grate it anyway, she substituted cocoa powder in equal measure.

  The minutes ticked by as her confidence grew. There were no cracks or obvious problems. When the timer rang, and she pulled the pans from the oven, she held her breath and waited for them to deflate. To her surprise and excitement, they didn’t. While one wasn’t perfectly level, it was acceptable. Right now, acceptable was a win in her book.

  She glanced at the clock, and it was five in the morning. How had she stayed up all night baking? Looking at the three disasters sitting like roadkill on her counter, she knew the hours had been eaten up, because she refused to fail. While she readied herself for work, the cake would cool. She took the frosting she made earlier from the refrigerator so it could soften. While it was grainy, it was edible, and actually tasted like chocolate.

  When she entered the shower, she thought about how much her life had changed in the last few weeks. She’d met disaster at every corner and survived. James told her that sometimes change was good. In that moment, she couldn’t see anything positive in the changes that were happening everywhere. New management brought its own set of complications, but it also brought progress. There was a time when she was embarrassed to work at The Pines, but now she was filled with a sense of pride. Big things were happening. The lobby was truly luxurious. The rooms were transforming before her eyes. New pool furniture arrived just yesterday, and she could envision their guests sipping pretty colored drinks decorated with fruit and umbrellas.

  Though she hated to admit it, James was right. Thinking about James sent her heart racing. Every day he came bearing a cup of coffee, she wanted to reach out and kiss him, but she’d been impulsive and reckless once before, and she couldn’t afford to let her guard down again.

  “Maybe you should throw caution to the wind,” she said out loud. Could her disaster with Chris be a one-off? She shook those thoughts from her head. She didn’t have time for what-ifs. There was a cake to frost and a potluck to attend.

  Chapter 10

  James

  Reveals were the best part of his job, and today James tucked himself in the back corner while his sister stood at the front ready to welcome the staff to their new lounge. Normally, he’d be up front with her and Julian, but he was still keeping a low profile.

  One by one the department heads filed inside the room. The first to arrive carrying a box of store-bought cookies was Willetta from housekeeping. Next was Paul from security. In his hand was a plate of bagels. James never considered a bagel a dessert, but he imagined it was all perspective. Spread with honey butter or butter and cinnamon sugar and the breakfast item was easily transformed.

  Todd arrived with cupcakes, and Flynn carried in a pan of something that smelled like heaven.

  Danielle walked in with a cake. By the slightly odd angle it tilted, it appeared homemade. She said she made a mean cake, and this one looked out of sorts. He chuckled to himself at the memory of her dashing out of Halfpipe panicking about the potluck. What was it she said? Should it be edible, or should she try for something that wouldn’t kill anyone? Maybe she wasn’t a baker after all.

  “Looks great,” he said as she set it on the table at the back of the room.

  “It shouldn’t send you to the hospital.” She looked around the lounge. “This is amazing. You did a great job.”

  “Thank you.” He pointed to the fancy coffee maker. “I got that for you. You want to try it out?”

  She beat him to the machine. “Oh, my goodness. This is amazing.”

  “Let me make your first cup.”

  “You know how to work it?”

  He was at a loss, but not afraid to try. “How hard can it be?”

  She rested her hip on the counter and watched him.

  “I think the coffee goes here.” He lifted a lid and peeked inside.

  “You’re fired.” She moved closer and bumped him out of the way with her hip. “Water goes there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have a similar machine at home.”

  “But you asked if they would hire a barista for the general manager’s machine.”

  She filled the basket with coffee grounds and tamped it down.

/>   “A girl can dream and then beg for access.”

  The dark roast smell filled the air, and people migrated to the espresso machine. She handed him the first cup. As she made hers, she gave a lesson on how to use the machine.

  Her consideration touched James. When the second cup finished, she added copious amounts of sugar, took a drink, and smiled. “Maybe I should stick to coffee.”

  Allie got the attention of the staff with a loud, high-pitched whistle. James was certain dogs within a mile were howling.

  “Good afternoon. Welcome to our new lounge. At Luxe, we believe family comes first. We started renovations on the lounge because having a place to relax and unwind is important. If you love what you see, thank my b …” She looked at him and shook her head. “Thank James. Dig into the food we catered. I know, funny to bring in something when we have the talented Flynn to cook for us, but we wanted to give him a well-deserved break. Enjoy your lunch. We have some exciting announcements to make when everyone is finished. Someone in this room’s life is about to change.”

  Just then, Chris walked in empty-handed. “Were you referring to me? I am a life-changer.”

  “Got that right,” Danielle whispered under her breath.

  James raised an eyebrow in question but decided it would be best not to push at the moment.

  The scent of savory barbecue sauce filled the air as people piled their plates with chicken, brisket, and spicy sausage.

  Allie and Julian moved around to mingle, but he found himself staying near Danielle.

  “How long did it take you to perfect that cake?”

  “Perfect?” She laughed. “I was going for edible.”

  “Is it?”

  She turned to face him. “Is it what?”

  “Edible.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a new recipe. I made two and ate part of one just to make sure no one would die today.”

  He thought she was joking, but she never cracked a smile.