Sugar Rush. Elaine Overton

it up. Sophie is going to be staying here for a few weeks until her ankle heals.”

      “You mean, here in the store?” Eliot suddenly had a bad feeling.

      “No, the parking lot,” Wayne answered sarcastically.

      Eliot ignored that remark. He did note with interest, however, the news about Sophie staying in the store. That sounded like something an owner would do. That type of dedication was unheard of in a paid manager.

      If Sophie was an owner, why had her name not come up in any of his research, Eliot wondered. All his focus had been on Mae, and after what he’d seen today Eliot was almost certain he could custom-design a retirement package that would satisfy her. But what if selling the store is not her decision alone? What if she has a silent partner, one so determined to see the business grow she’s willing to dedicate herself twenty-four hours a day?

      All the pieces began to click into place. Sophie was the one who’d been seducing his customers away. Sophie was the reason for all this new equipment. Sophie was the one who’d rejected his generous buyout offer. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.

      That morning, as he was wiping down the mixer, Mae placed a perfect BLT on the countertop near him. “Thought you might be hungry.” She smiled, and Eliot had an eerie vision of his mother’s face superimposed over Mae’s. The thin lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, the sign of a woman who laughed a lot.

      “Thank you,” he said, before pulling up a stool to the preparation table. “That was very thoughtful.”

      “It’s no problem,” she said. “I love to cook.” They noticed Wayne carrying his sandwich out the back door.

      “I’m going to pick up Sophie, Mama Mae. I’ll be back in about an hour.” He paused and glanced at Eliot, and Eliot could see how troubled the other man was about leaving her alone with him. It was hard not to like a man that concerned about a woman he wasn’t even related to, Eliot thought.

      He concentrated on his sandwich, trying to appear as harmless as possible. It must have worked, because Wayne finally turned and went out the door. Eliot smiled at Mae to let her know how tasty the sandwich was. And it was indeed.

      But, the smile was also an expression of his satisfaction that soon he would finally meet the mysterious Sophie. The woman behind the sultry voice. The powerhouse behind the new and improved Mayfield Bakery. And hopefully Eliot would be able to fill in the last few missing pieces of the puzzle.

      Sophie was more than ready to go when Wayne arrived to pick her up. Despite the painkillers, her ankle still throbbed. But even the pain could not distract her attention from the call she’d received earlier that morning.

      Her new baker sounded like something straight out of a wet dream. He had such a smooth, deep baritone voice. Just remembering it sent a chill down her spine. There was no way he could be as fine as he sounded, she thought.

      Still, she was eager to get back to the bakery to confirm or deny the fantasy she’d built up in her mind. And then there was that subtle challenge—at least, it felt like a challenge. Eight simple words: I look forward to meeting you, as well. It felt like he was saying so much more. But then again, the whole thing—the voice, the supposed challenge—could all be the sum-total effects of being without a man too long. Sophie chuckled at her own ridiculousness. All this over a two-minute conversation.

      Just then Wayne came through the door. “Hey girl, you ready to go?”

      “In a minute. I have to wait for the orderly with a wheelchair. Hospital policy. So, what do you think of our new baker?”

      As if he’d been waiting for the opening, Wayne exploded in frustration. “How the hell you gonna hire a baker without telling me or at the least Mama Mae?” He began pacing in front of the bed, where she lay with her leg propped up on a pillow. “This guy shows up looking like he stepped out of the pages of GQ—”

      “Really?!”

      Wayne suddenly stopped and turned slowly in her direction.

      Sophie cleared her throat quickly and tried to tamp down her enthusiasm. “Really?”

      Wayne just watched her with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, really.”

      “But what do you think of him, Wayne?” she asked, leaning forward. “I trust your judgment.”

      “I don’t like him.”

      “Why? Did he do something?”

      Wayne shrugged. “Nope. Just don’t like him.” He started pacing again. “Although, I must admit he knows his way around a kitchen.” He glanced at her shyly. “I’ve had him doing grunt work all day.”

      “Wayne! This man is a premier chef and I have the offer letter to prove it. Please don’t tick him off.” She looked him directly in the eye. “Whether you like him or not, if we are going to compete with Fulton we need him.”

      “I know.” Wayne pouted. “After I got over being mad that you didn’t even consult me, I thought about it. I know why you hired him. I just wish you had hired someone else.”

      “There was no one else, and if he hadn’t been on hard times lately, we wouldn’t have gotten him. So play nice.”

      He sank down in the big guest chair, frustration radiating from his pores. “He did fix the oven and help us get the Centerfield order out on time.”

      “See? He’s already proven his worth. The old oven acting up again?”

      “Yeah, we’re gonna have to get that taken care of, now that we are doing all these big orders.”

      “I know,” Sophie answered, wondering where the money was going to come from. “Did Dante get that back room cleaned up and livable?”

      “Yeah, he and Lonnie have been in there all morning. Have you noticed how closely Lonnie’s been sticking to Dante lately?”

      She chuckled. “He’s about the only one of us with the patience to answer all her questions.”

      “I don’t know. I think it’s more than that. I think you may need to say something to Dante, let him know that Lonnie’s not like other girls. He might misunderstand her attachment, know what I mean?”

      Sophie hid a small smile. It always surprised her how protective Wayne had become of them over the past few years. When he’d shown up looking for a job four years ago he’d been a recently released convict, and the hardness of prison life still clung to him. After he got over the initial surprise that he’d been hired despite his background, he’d worked like a demon. At the time, it had been only Sophie and Mae. Wayne had filled in all the blanks. He was the deliveryman, the fix-it guy, the heavy lifter and whatever else the job required, and he did it all without complaint.

      It hadn’t taken Sophie long to realize that there was an equally big brain to go along with that brawn, and she quickly put it to work, as well. Now, four years later, Wayne knew as much about the business as she did, and she knew he could easily go somewhere else and make more money. But still he stayed with them, loyal to a fault.

      “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she said, just as the orderly rolled the wheelchair into the room. As she was loaded into the chair and rolled along the corridor, her busy mind was racing. Sophie knew much about their new baker’s situation, and how he’d happened to become available at a price she could pay. So her mind kept telling her not to get excited. Of course he probably looked like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, and of course his arrogance in his skill would rub Wayne the wrong way.

      But even though she knew there was no rational reason to get excited, her heart was still racing in anticipation, and she was more anxious to reach the store than she cared to admit.

      Eliot wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at his watch. Apparently lunch had come with a price, because as soon as he’d taken the last bite, Mae had put him to work and stayed to supervise.

      A