Page 14 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll give you my card.”

“What if I want something specific? Different?”

“Oh, I can help you. Contact me directly.”

“Do you have pictures of your work?”

She looked uncomfortable. “I can send you some if you give me your email.”

I tamped down my anger. She was taking credit for Brianna’s work. Trying to steal business from her. Instead of saying she had a great chef and decorator, she wanted me to think it was all her. No doubt, she’d get Brianna to bake it and then sell it to me and take the money, cutting Brianna out entirely.

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I’ll take your card.”

She handed it to me, and I took it, careful not to touch her fingers. I then pointedly picked up my phone, concentrating on the screen. She huffed an annoyed noise but stood and left. A few moments later, a young girl came over, offering me a refill. I shook my head.

“No, thanks. Actually, I wanted to talk to Brianna about a cake. Is she in?”

“Not until two,” she replied brightly.

“Thanks.”

I drained my coffee and stood. If she wasn’t here, there was no point in staying.

I would return then.

* * *

I got busy with calls and emails, the time passing quickly. It was almost three when I walked back into the bakery. It was quieter, the display cases not as full, the tables mostly deserted. I bought another coffee and a couple of cookies and sat back in the corner where I could watch the counter.

I hadn’t seen her, but I knew she was here. I felt her. It was the oddest sensation, a small tingle down my spine, but I sensed her close. I sipped the coffee, my body tightening when I heard her voice coming from behind the closed door leading to the kitchen.

“I said four dozen, Kenneth. Is it so hard to understand simple instructions?”

The door swung open, and she appeared, carrying a tray. She looked annoyed and pissed off—my favorite look on her. She was in another pair of overalls, these ones pink, with a white T-shirt underneath them. Her hair was bundled up, the rebellious curls spilling around her face. Without a trace of makeup or jewelry on, she still made my chest ache with her subtle beauty.

She was muttering to herself, checking the trays, wiping the counter, lifting the coffeepot. Since she was buzzing around like the little bee she was, I had a feeling her stinger was armed today. She looked ready for a fight, and I wanted to be the one to provoke her.

She came around the counter, offering refills to people, not noticing me yet. I watched her carefully, spying the weariness around her eyes, the bent slope of her shoulders. She had an apron tied around her waist, traces of various ingredients on it. As she came closer, I saw the dusting of flour on the tip of her elegant nose. She still hadn’t seen me. She was busy filling a cup when she suddenly tensed, her shoulders drawing back. Her head snapped up, and our eyes met across the tables.

Her eyebrows flew up, her dark eyes widening to the point of hilarity. Her gaze bounced around the room, no doubt looking for an escape. She began to back up, but I raised my cup, shaking my head in silent refusal. She wasn’t getting away from me. Not this time.

She tossed her head, stubborn and willful. Then she came over, a wide, false smile on her face.

“Would you like a refill, sir?” she asked as if she had never seen me before now.

“Yes,” I replied, pushing my cup toward her. Her hand shook as she poured the coffee.

“Hello, my little bee,” I murmured. “I’ve been waiting.”

She dropped the pot.

* * *

BRIANNA

It had been a shit of a week since Carolina’s wedding. Nothing went right. I had trouble sleeping. Visions of teasing golden eyes and a wickedly sinful mouth on mine kept me awake. When I did sleep, my dreams were filled with him. I’d wake up, desperate and wet, my hand between my legs, needing release. Never finding it.