my precious sister also mention that I hate to be predictable?’
Amy nodded sharply. ‘She did. But I understand. You’re her big brother and you want her to have the best. Nothing wrong with that. Sorry for laughing—it wasn’t at you personally, just at what you said.’ And then she slapped her hand over her mouth as another bout of sniggering hit her.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I should come back tomorrow?’
Amy flapped both hands at him. ‘It’s been a long hot, busy day. Let’s start again, shall we? How about a cold drink? I might have some juice left. Or would you prefer lemonade or water?’
‘Thank you, but no. I’m still wondering what precisely you found so funny.’
‘Oh, no secret. Do you ever watch those talent shows on TV? You know—the kind where people audition to show what they can do? Sing, dance, juggle monkeys?’
‘I don’t have time to watch much TV, but, yes, I know what you mean…What has this got to do with Lucy?’
‘Last time she was in London we decided that we would both apply to be contestants on Girls Got Talent. She would show off her famous artistic skills, while I’d dazzle the judges by cooking up a hot soufflé on live TV. Simple, really.’
Amy strolled around the table and polished a pristine fork on a clean corner of her apron before placing it next to the pastry on Jared’s plate.
‘Just because I chose to become a baker, it does not mean that I handed my brain in at the gate with my company credit card.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Relax, Jared. Lucy’s hired a professional wedding planner. All I have to do is keep in touch every week and follow up on any questions they have. So far everything has gone very well.’ Amy nodded towards his plate. ‘So, now that’s cleared up, why don’t you enjoy your strudel? You look as though you need it. Long day?’
He paused before replying. ‘Yes, actually it has been a long day. And I’m sure it’s delicious, but I don’t eat cake.’
Amy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Good. Because this is not cake. This is strudel. My strudel. Which I made. Today. In this kitchen. At some silly time of the morning.’
Amy gestured towards the oven and then sat down on the corner of the table, her arms folded.
‘You made this?’ There was genuine surprise in his voice.
‘Specialty of the house. And nobody leaves this kitchen without trying my strudel. Including you. Jared Shaw.’
Amy uncrossed her arms and leant forward so that her face was only inches from his. Lucy Shaw was one of the few people Amy had called to her hospital bed when she’d needed a friend. And she had no intention of letting Lucy down when it came to the simple matter of organising her wedding.
The last thing she needed was a macho brother turning up, questioning her abilities.
Even if that brother did smell of sharp citrus with a hint of leather, and looked as if he had stepped out of a photo shoot for a fashion magazine.
In another time and place she might even had said that he was gorgeous.
He was staring into her eyes now, the corners of his mouth turned up with a flicker of something which could have been amusement, but was more likely frustration that she had not agreed to hand over the wedding plan to his PA. Yet.
The next few days were going to be demanding in so many ways. Although she hated to admit it, if there was a problem so close to the wedding it might be helpful to have someone she could call on in an emergency. Just as long as they understood who was in charge, of course.
‘I might be able to use your help on a few things,’ she whispered, in her softest, most seductive tone. ‘And then again, I might not.’
Her eyes ratcheted down to the pastry, then slowly, slowly slid up the front of his pristine suit jacket and back to his face.
‘It all depends on what you do in the next five minutes. So what’s it going to be? Jared?’
The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened, and Amy inhaled a powerful aroma of spicy masculine sweat and body spray, which was sweet even against the perfume of the fruit and nuts of her food.
She couldn’t move. There was something electric in the few inches of air between them, as though powerful magnets were pulling them together.
So this was the famous Jared Shaw, CEO of Haywood and Shaw.
At this distance she could feel the frisson of energy and strength of the man whose property development signs were outside homes and office blocks in cities all over Britain and the East Coast of America.
And he knew it.
This was the kind of man who was accustomed to walking into a cocktail bar or a restaurant and having head waiters fawning over themselves to find him the best table.
Well, not this time, handsome!
She could stick this out longer than he could.
The bell saved him. Amy’s private cellphone rang a couple of times before she dragged her eyes away from his, glanced down at the caller ID, twisted her mouth with annoyance, and stood up quickly to take the call.
Within seconds she had turned back to face him, and he instantly recognised a certain look in her eyes which brought his back even straighter.
‘Yes. I can be there in twenty minutes. Thank you.’
Amy exhaled slowly, then marched to the back of the kitchen and shrugged off her long apron, revealing a short-sleeved navy blue T-shirt.
She was still drying her hands when Jared walked up.
‘Do you remember the wedding planner that Lucy hired? The one with all the celebrity clients?’ she asked.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the man standing ramrod-straight next to her, his back braced. He was looking horribly tall, as though he feared the worst and the wedding plan might be about to hit the fan.
It hit the fan.
‘Clarissa has cancelled all her appointments and eloped to Antigua. With the bridegroom who was supposed to be walking down the aisle tomorrow morning. I’m going to her office right now to pick up Lucy’s file. Want to come along?’
CHAPTER TWO
HE HAD known something like this would happen.
Worse. It was entirely his fault.
He had taken his eyes off the ball and allowed a wedding planner he had never met to run a project as important as his only sister’s wedding. So what if he was in the middle of one of the biggest deals of his life in New York? Family came first.
He had promised his mother before she moved to France that he would take care of his sister.
He had let her down.
Not going to happen. Not while there was still blood in his veins. He had a brilliant PA, and a team back in New York who could be on the next flight out if they had to.
The sound of a car horn snapped Jared out of his thoughts, and he ran the fingertips of both hands through his hair, before flicking open the buttons of his suit jacket.
Suddenly he felt hot, tired, and running on empty. He went to the door to get some air. Maybe he should have eaten some of the strudel? It wouldn’t have killed him. He might even have liked it. Lucy would have told him to be kinder to her friend who was offering him free food.
But there’s no such thing as a free lunch, Lucy Lou.
Even if Amy Edler was not the girl he had expected.
As he turned away from the London traffic whizzing by outside, Amy jogged past him out of the shop door; her arms full of Edlers cake boxes, and nudged him in the arm before speaking.
‘We’re