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She reached for the box, and he snatched it out of her hands.
“Hey, give that back.”
“You can’t go until we’ve worked out terms.”
“What terms? What are you talking about?”
“Renard!” the voice snapped through the kitchen, making her freeze. She turned as Saxon walked into the kitchen, his presence sapping all the oxygen from the room. He was frowning, his gaze on whatever he held in his hand. “The next time you decide you need some special ingredient, give me more notice, will you? I was already ten minutes out of Freestown when I got that call from Thomas. And could you please make more of an effort with him . . .” His voice died as he looked up and spotted her standing there.
“Aspen, what are you doing here?”
“I . . . uh . . . um . . .” she stumbled over her words, completely thrown by the coldness of his voice. This wasn’t the man she’d spoken to earlier. There was an impatience about him.
“Whatever the hell is going on between the two of you, you’re going to have to put it aside while I work out some terms with the girlie. Better yet, why don’t you both find other bed partners? Mixing pleasure and business is never a good idea.”
Both of them turned to Renard, who was looking way too pleased with himself.
“What are you talking about now, Renard?” Saxon snapped.
Renard pointed at her. “Meet our new pastry chef.”
She gaped at Mr. Renard. “What?”
“The pie is suitable. Need to see what else you can do, though. Want to make sure for myself it’s not just pies you can do.”
“Pie? What pie?” Saxon asked.
Renard turned to him. “She brought you a pie to make up for whatever she did. I told her she’d be better off just giving you a blow job. Might put you in a better mood, that’s for sure. You been acting like a bear with a sore paw lately. Now that you’re here the two of you can work out the terms. I got better things to do.”
“Wait. Just wait.” Saxon held up his hands. Then he took in a deep breath. “I think I’ve missed something here.” He turned to her. “You brought me a pie?”
She could feel herself blushing. “Yes. It was a kind of peace offering. But then the guy that opened the door, Thomas, is it? He told me you don’t eat dessert.”
“Did he?” Saxon looked thoughtful.
“Tried to run her off,” Renard said cheerfully. “Damn good guard dog you’ve got there. Too bad he’s a complete prick.”
“You should talk,” Saxon muttered so quietly she was certain Renard didn’t hear him.
“You really bought me a pie as a peace offering?” He looked surprised.
“I kind of thought I might have, well, overreacted earlier. And that I might have come across as ungrateful. I’m not. It was just the way you went about things that I objected to.”
“Is that so?” Saxon’s voice was slightly cool.
She resisted the urge to fidget. “Yes. So I made you this pie.”
One eyebrow rose. “You made it?”
“Yes. I can bake,” she said defensively.
“She sure can. It doesn’t taste like shit,” Renard added helpfully.
She sent him a caustic look. The huge man just shrugged. “Thought it was best to tell him that. He might be thinking you poisoned it or something.”
“I don’t make it a habit to go around poisoning people.”
“Guess you haven’t known Saxon that long then. Give him time,
