but she felt like a snake for spying on the competition and wanted to stop. The biggest problem? Each day she returned to Lillian’s brought her into close contact with Jackson—a man with soulful eyes, juicy lips she wanted to kiss and muscles she was dying to stroke. He was intelligent and perceptive, and Grace feared he’d catch on to what she was doing and expose her. Deep down, she was afraid of how attracted she was to Jackson and decided in her mind to ignore him—if he ever showed up at the bakery.
Grace glanced at her wristwatch again. She knew she should get going, but she didn’t want to leave. Looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of everyone’s favorite baker, Grace couldn’t believe how dark and gloomy it was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the sun, and hoped the thick storm clouds held back the rain until she reached work.
* * *
“Rodolfo and I are abstaining from sex until our wedding night. Isn’t that romantic?”
Grace swallowed the quip on the tip of her tongue. She’d asked her bestie, Bronwyn, to meet her at Lillian’s for breakfast, but regretted it the moment their orders had arrived. When the speech pathologist wasn’t cooing about her nectarine honey tart, she was gushing about her decades-older fiancé and their fall wedding. Slim, with hazel eyes and blond curls, Bronwyn exuded such warmth and confidence she made friends everywhere she went. “Yes,” she drawled sarcastically. “It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re just jealous. You wish you had a man as sweet and as loving as Rodolfo.”
No, I wish my vibrator wasn’t on the blink, because it didn’t get the job done this morning and I need an orgasm in the worst way! Grace finished her coffee and set aside her mug. Anxious to sink her teeth into her dessert, she picked up her fork and cut into the Draynut. “Doesn’t it bother you that Rodolfo isn’t working?”
“No. I make enough money for the both of us and I love taking care of my Pooh Bear.”
The fork slipped from Grace’s hand and fell on the plate. Speechless, she stared at her friend in shock. Bronwyn liked to boast about all the nice things her fiancé did for her, but he was buying her expensive gifts with her charge card. Who did that? A real man would never take money from his woman, let alone demand a weekly allowance, and Grace didn’t understand why her bestie was cool with supporting a grown-ass man.
“The economy’s in the tank. People aren’t buying luxury cars like they used to—”
“Then he should get a job at another dealership instead of mooching off you.”
“No one’s mooching off anybody. Rodolfo’s a great catch, and I don’t mind helping him out financially from time to time. We’ve had our ups and downs and even split up for a while, but I’d rather be with Rodolfo than anyone else. He’s the only one for me...”
Listening to Bronwyn wax poetic about her fiancé, Grace realized she’d never loved anyone with unwavering devotion. Truth be told, she didn’t understand men, couldn’t figure them out, and doubted she ever would.
“Relationships are hard,” she quipped, with a knowing look, a smirk sitting pretty on her lips. “You of all people should know that.”
Grace ignored the dig, refusing to think about the night she’d dumped Phillip. To this day, Grace didn’t know what had possessed her to date the loudmouth physical trainer. Her father had always warned her that men would be after her for her money, but she didn’t believe him. Unfortunately, her dad was right. At the memory of the slap heard around the world—or rather inside Bronwyn’s elegant Capitol Hill home—Grace groaned as if she was being physically tortured. “I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t my finest moment, and every time I think about it I want to hide. It’s so embarrassing.”
Bronwyn pushed a hand through her long, curly locks and Grace peered at her engagement ring. The diamond was so small she’d need a magnifying glass to see it, and the thick band looked cheap and old-fashioned. Grace was convinced Rodolfo had bought it at a pawn shop, or stole it from his great-great-grandmother, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Don’t sweat it, slugger. Philip’s face healed just fine.”
Grace stuck out her tongue, then laughed when Bronwyn did the same.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the one with the mean right hook.”
“You’re the worst, you know that?”
Bronwyn sobered. “If Philip apologized would you give him another chance?”
“No. Never. We have nothing in common, and we had no business dating.”
“Rodolfo and I ran into him yesterday while shopping at Bellevue Square, and he said you’re just taking a break, and you’ll be an item again in no time.”
“Ha!” Grace barked a laugh. “Girl, please, I’d rather join a convent!”
Bronwyn’s shrill, high-pitched giggles drew the attention of the patrons seated nearby.
Hungry, Grace picked up her fork and put it in her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she savored the rich, sweet pastry. Tasting cinnamon and hints of nutmeg on her tongue, she moaned in appreciation. The dessert did not disappoint. Grace sampled another bite of the Draynut and decided she didn’t like the dessert; she loved it.
“Tell me again why you wanted to meet here, and not at the bakery?”
“My dad asked me to check out the competition so here I am—”
“Sweet mother of God! Who is that and where has he been all my life?”
Grace didn’t have to turn around to know who Bronwyn was referring to, knew there was only one man inside Lillian’s of Seattle who could elicit such an emphatic response, but she did turn. Casting a glance over her right shoulder, she caught sight of Jackson stalking through the door, looking all kinds of sexy in a black sports jacket, crisp slacks and leather shoes.
Grace couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The man was a force of nature, so freakin’ hot her body tingled in places that made her blush. He must have sensed her watching him, felt the heat of her stare, because he met her gaze. She wore an aloof expression on her face and didn’t react when he winked at her, but her heart was doing backflips inside her chest. His grin revealed a set of matching dimples, straight white teeth and a twinkle in his eyes. Jackson moved with confidence, as if he could have anything in the world—including her—and that drew Grace to him.
“Do you know him?” Bronwyn asked. “Have you seen him here before?”
“That’s Jackson Drayson. He’s one of the three owners.”
“No,” she quipped, her gaze dark with lust. “That’s my second husband!”
Grace cupped a hand over her mouth to smother her girlish laughter.
“You tricked me.” Wearing an amused expression on her face, Bronwyn leaned across the table and leveled a finger at Grace. “You didn’t ask me to meet you here so we could catch up. You came down here to drool over that tall, beautiful specimen of a man.”
“As if. He’s not my type—”
“Says the girl who’s drooling all over her expensive designer dress!”
Grace noticed she wasn’t the only person in Lillian’s eyeing the dreamy baker. He’d captured the attention of everyone in the room and connected with patrons in meaningful ways. He shook hands, kissed babies, chatted with the group of senior citizens drinking coffee and saluted a female soldier waiting in line for her order. Jackson was a man’s man, a woman’s man, too, and it was obvious his customers loved him.
Watching Jackson charm everyone in the bakery made Grace realize her own inadequacies as an employee at Sweetness. She spent most of her days in her office, chained to her desk, and on the rare occasion she treated herself to lunch she sat outside in the park, not in the kitchen. Too many memories