CHAPTER TWO

      Tanner

      I HADN’T BEEN kidding when I told Remy I was up for a challenge. But the cool blonde with glacial blue eyes and an attitude to match wasn’t one of them.

      A snowman could get frostbite next to that one.

      From the first time she’d stared down her snooty nose at me, I had her pegged. Bored rich girl playing at baking goodies for a while. Probably like the ones she’d created in her state-of-the-art playroom kitchen as a kid, envisaging a prince charming with a mega bank account to come along and rescue her.

      Yeah, women like her had the fairytale down pat.

      Which begged the question: Why had she stuck around for a year?

      Remy had given me the basics about his protégé during one of our phone calls about ten months ago. Said that one of his best customers had come into the patisserie one day, wild-eyed and dishevelled, begging for a job. It had been her dream to be a pastry chef apparently.

      What a crock of shit.

      I had no idea what game this Abby chick was playing, but the fact Remy had offered her the apartment over the patisserie while she got her life back together, and she was still there, meant I’d be keeping an eye on her and figuring out what her deal was.

      Everybody had an angle. I’d learned that the hard way. So if the ice princess was taking advantage of my brother I’d kick her out on her sweet ass so fast she wouldn’t see it coming. And it was sweet. Very, from what I’d glimpsed when she’d bent over to kiss Remy.

      It had been a touching gesture, indicating a depth of affection that could be construed as genuine, if I didn’t know better.

      Women like her were masters at deception, and if her endgame was to fool my brother—maybe into giving her a piece of the action at Le Miel—she was in for a rude shock.

      Remy had always been too kind-hearted; that was his problem. Probably one of the reasons Dad had tolerated him and despised me.

      ‘We should head back to the patisserie,’ Abby said as we exited the hospital. ‘Makayla, one of the staff, will be run off her feet.’

      ‘Not so fast, Sweet Thing.’ My hand shot out, touching the small of her back, and a shock akin to electricity sizzled up my arm. ‘We need to get acquainted first.’

      She stared at me like I’d suggested we get naked to do it, and I grinned. The thought wasn’t totally unpalatable, considering how much fun it would be to rattle that impenetrable façade.

      ‘I meant let’s grab a coffee at that café down by the water, but if you had something else in mind I’m up for it.’ I threw in a wink, knowing it would rile her more than anything else I could say.

      Predictably, she drew herself up to an impressive five-ten. Tall for a woman. I preferred them petite and pliable, not big and bristly.

      ‘Sweet thing isn’t my name,’ she said, chin tilted, haughty as hell.

      ‘Would you like it to be?’ I leaned in, expecting her to jump back like a startled cat.

      When she held her ground and glared at me with those big blue eyes, an unusual azure similar to a glacier I’d seen in New Zealand once, I had to admire her a little.

      ‘Here’s the deal. I love my job and I respect your brother. He gave me a chance when no one else would, and I’m not going to screw this up over some big-mouthed Romeo who can’t keep it in his pants. Got it?’

      She jabbed me in the chest with a finger. She actually jabbed me. And I admired her all the more for having the balls to stand up to my in-your-face innuendos to get a rise out of her.

      ‘So quit the bullshit flirting and let’s talk business.’

      I couldn’t resist one more. ‘Dirty business?’

      ‘Jeez, you’re annoying,’ she muttered under her breath as she stomped away.

      Okay, so maybe I’d pushed too far but getting her so wound up had its advantages. Namely giving me an unimpeded view of her ass.

      My earlier assessment had been correct. It was sweet. Taut and rounded, highlighted to perfection in the tight black pants worn by staff at the patisserie.

      The patisserie...

      I’d promised Remy to ensure it ran smoothly in his absence, and I always kept my promises. I might be a prick who didn’t let anyone get too close but Remy was different. He was my blood. And I owed him.

      Which meant I needed to play nice with little miss sweet cheeks.

      ‘Hey, wait up.’ I caught up to her in a few strides. ‘Look, you can blame my idiocy on jet lag, considering I only got in from LA late last night.’

      She shot me an exasperated glance that indicated she hadn’t thawed in the slightest.

      ‘Let’s have that coffee, and I promise to behave.’ I held up my hands to show I had no tricks up my sleeves. ‘What do you say?’

      She hesitated, gnawing her bottom lip, and damned if the innocuous action didn’t shoot straight to my cock. Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t screw everything that walked and it had been a few months since I’d been with a woman.

      Time to rectify that if the ice princess got me horny with a simple lip-nibble.

      ‘Come on, Abby, I don’t bite.’ I refrained from adding, ‘only if you ask nicely’, because that wasn’t helping the hard-on situation.

      After what seemed like an eternity, she managed a terse nod. ‘Fine.’

      But it wasn’t. Because as we strolled the last fifty metres to the café I caught a whiff of her fragrance on the wind. An intoxicating blend of vanilla and coconut, and I wondered if she tasted as good as she smelt.

      Shit. Remy would castrate me if I screwed around with his protégé. Not that I wanted to. Taunting was one thing, following through another.

      But as another gust of wind blew blond strands of hair into her face and my fingers itched with the urge to brush them away, I knew working alongside Abby would be a long four weeks.

      I’d craved a challenge.

      Looked like I’d got one.