The Naughty List Bundle with The Night Before Christmas & Yule Be Mine. Fern Michaels
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4
She’d let the lion straight into her den. What was she thinking?
She could feel him behind her, almost like a physical caress. It was that ridiculously sexy brogue of his, she understood that. And the twinkle. Okay, and his mouth. Something about those hard lips, suddenly becoming very sensual and appealing when he smiled—which made no sense, set as they were in his otherwise rugged face. His jaw and cheekbones looked as if they’d been chiseled from a block of smooth granite. He had a beautifully shaped head, but with his hair clipped so very short, the whole aura should have been menacing rather than sexy.
So, why was she feeling all tingly, and warm, and, well…needy?
“I’ve got one hundred cupcakes to decorate,” she announced, as if by putting the workload out there, she’d create a wall of some kind. Whether it was a wall between her and Griffin, or her and her libido, she wasn’t entirely sure. Nor did she care, as long as one of them worked. “I also have several other cakes to be baked and decorated, but I’ll come down early to do the detailing on those.”
“Come down?” Griffin glanced upward just as she turned back to look at him, then lowered his gaze to hers. “You live above your shop?”
It was a good thing she’d studied tax law. She’d have made a lousy defense attorney. “I do, Mr. Gallagher. Now—”
“Can we at the very least lower our shields enough to consider a first-name basis? I assure you, I won’t mistake the familiarity with the idea that you’ve gone soft on me, or my plans.”
She looked at him and desperately wished there were no soft parts in her. Starting with the ones that were eagerly responding to his every request. She scooped up two heavy oven mitts and thrust them at him. “You can be on oven duty,” she said, in lieu of a response.
He didn’t reach out for the mitts, but rather raised one eyebrow. On anyone else, the resulting expression would have looked malevolent at best. On him…well, let’s just say her soft, tingly parts were getting a lot warmer.
“Griffin,” she finally relented, rolling her eyes when he grinned and took the mitts from her.
“Wasn’t so ’ard now, was it?” he asked, as he removed his coat.
“You’re insufferable,” she said, turning her back to him as she rolled the tall, aluminum racks toward the ovens in the back of the kitchen.
“Aye,” he said, quite affably. “It’s a large part of my charm.”
Luckily he couldn’t see her responding smile. Damn the man.
“And my success,” he added, his voice coming from just behind her.
“I can understand the latter part.” She carefully smoothed her expression before turning to face him. “The pans on the top three trays go in this one,” she said, gesturing to the oven behind her. “The bottom two go in that one. Center the pans, front and rear, leaving several inches between them. They’re already preset, just hit the timer button after you shut the door.”
She was normally very compulsive about things like pan placement and rack spacing. Both were vital to a perfectly baked cake. At the moment, however, she couldn’t afford to be picky. As it was, she was putting more pans in one oven than she’d like, but time was of the essence. She’d already set up the cupcakes that needed to be decorated on one of the worktables, so she headed over to it, leaving Griffin to do as directed. She would double back and check on them once she got the base frosting on the first tray.
“How long have you been a baker?” he asked, over the clatter of the pans sliding onto the oven racks. “Does it run in the family?”
“No,” she said, knowing small talk probably wasn’t a bad idea, but finding it a challenge. His presence was unnerving. Perhaps if she kept things casual and civil, she could gain a bit more knowledge about his plans for Hamilton. The more information she had, direct from the source, the better chance she’d have of getting her starry-eyed, fellow business owners to listen to her concerns.
She could hardly believe the pied-piper spell he’d cast over them. She’d known going in that the sentiment had not been running high in favor of the rumored new plans. So she’d been more than a little stunned to walk into the auditorium and feel a very distinct vibe of excitement, rather than frustration, or even outright anger.
She’d looked over the brochures she’d grabbed as she’d stomped out of the auditorium and quickly away from the inquiring eyes of her neighbors. Not that it had mattered. Every one of them had found one reason or another to drop by the shop later that afternoon. Some had been circumspect in expressing their curiosity about her apparent earlier run-in with Griffin. Others had been downright blatant. She shuddered to think what the rumor mill would be saying if they knew he was with her after shop hours. It led her to belatedly wonder if anyone had seen him enter as she was flipping the CLOSED sign.
Dammit.
“So, then”—came his voice from directly behind her left shoulder, giving her another little jolt—“what did get you into baking? I understand you’ve only been back in Hamilton for a few years.”
She tried to turn around, then realized how small the space was between the worktable and…him. She seemed to be making a habit of that whenever he was around. Of course, like the gentleman he wasn’t, he didn’t shift to give her more space.
“I’ve been back almost four years now. I’m surprised, if you’ve been doing homework on me, that you don’t already know why I came back.”
“I know your best friend was quite ill.”
“Yes. I came back to help with her business, and…be here for her.”
There was such compassion in his eyes then, she almost couldn’t believe it was the same grinning man of a moment ago, shamelessly using his charm and his accent to woo her good favor.
“God rest her soul,” he added, with quiet sincerity. “I’m sorry for your loss, Melody. The world doesn’t often see fit to populate our paths with those who become near and dear to us. It’s a shame, indeed, to lose a single one of them.”
He was standing so close, and sounded so damn…earnest. She wouldn’t have thought he had it in him, but as close as she was standing to him, she was pretty sure she’d have been able to detect even the slightest hint of artifice. She wanted to ask who he’d lost, why his understanding was so keen. But the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t want to get to know him in that way. She didn’t want to care about him.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, groping for the anchor her frustration and anger had provided her thus far with him…and coming up empty-handed.
“Was this her shop, then?”
“It was,” she said, hearing the clipped tone in her voice. But at his continued look of sincere interest, she finally relented. “I’d helped her set it up a year or so before, and came back to help her run it when she became too weak to handle the workload.”
“What was it you gave up to come back?”
“You mean, what did I do for a living before this? I thought you checked up on me.”
“I asked after you with the innkeeper, the lovely Mrs. Crossley, but we were interrupted by new guests arriving before she got much further than telling me about your friend. I haven’t had time to do more than that.”
“Ah.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about his asking around town about her. “Well, I was born here, I left, I came back. Having been gone, I have a much greater appreciation for exactly what Hamilton has to offer. I’m afraid I don’t see the tourist draw that you do. Nor do I think that’s the right direction to push our town.” One corner of her mouth kicked up. “Sorry, ‘village.’”
To his credit, he smiled too. While her non-answer had diverted their conversation