Sweet Thing. Nicola Marsh

I shrugged off her touch. ‘Yeah. Let’s get started.’

      She didn’t believe me. She had this way of staring at me with those deep blue eyes like she could see right through me. It was disconcerting.

      No one saw the real me. Ever.

      ‘You’ve been here before, right?’

      I nodded. ‘Not for a while though.’

      She didn’t ask why but I could see her condemnation in the flattening of her lips.

      ‘I’ll show you Remy’s office as that’s where you’ll be working.’

      So she didn’t know I could cook? Interesting. I could have a lot of fun showing Miss Prim and Proper exactly what I could do with a rolling pin.

      ‘Lead the way,’ I said, with a mock bow, biting back a laugh when she gritted her teeth.

      This could be fun if I concentrated on baiting my cool co-worker rather than mentally rehashing maudlin memories.

      The late-morning crowd had thinned to a few mums with toddlers and an older couple reading the newspaper. From the few times I’d been here over the years, I knew early mornings and lunchtimes were hectic. Remy would have hired staff accordingly but a sliver of worry niggled.

      I ran successful nightclubs employing hundreds of people. I’d run restaurants up and down the eastern seaboard. So why the touch of anxiety that I could be in over my head with one patisserie?

      Because this place was Remy’s pride and joy, and I knew it. I owed my brother a lot. He’d cheered me up when I’d been young and reeling from Dad’s subtle hatred, even if he’d been oblivious as to the reason behind my sulks. He’d shown me how to cook, how to play footy, how to be a man by using clever words rather than my fists when kids teased me at school for not having a mum. He’d raised me when the old man had the decency to curl up his toes when I was fifteen, never complaining at being saddled with a recalcitrant teen when most guys were partying at twenty.

      Remy was my hero, always had been, and the only person I let get close. So I’d make damn sure that not only did the patisserie continue business as usual, but also that it flourished.

      As we passed the gleaming stainless-steel counter, a young guy popped up from behind it, balancing a stack of trays. Abby smiled and the poor guy almost dropped the trays. I didn’t blame him. I hadn’t seen the ice princess smile much since we’d met but when she did...kapow. I felt it like a kick to the guts.

      ‘Shaun, I’d like you to meet Tanner King, Remy’s brother. He’ll be the boss around here ’til Remy’s back on his feet.’

      I stuck out my hand. ‘Good to meet you.’

      ‘You too.’ Shaun placed the trays on the counter and shook my hand. Firmly. Earning him brownie points. ‘Abby texted me earlier to let me know he’s going to be okay. That’s good news.’

      ‘Sure is.’ The kid couldn’t have been more than eighteen yet for some reason the thought of Abby texting him about anything stung. Pathetic. ‘Have you been working here long?’

      ‘Two months,’ he said, shooting Abby a scared look, like he expected I’d fire him on the spot. ‘I’ve enrolled at a college to do pastry work, and I need the hours here as part of an apprenticeship.’

      ‘You’re in the right place.’ I tempered my tone so the kid wouldn’t look so damn frightened. ‘Remy’s the best.’

      ‘He sure is.’ A woman sauntered out from the corridor linking the shop to the kitchen.

      If Abby was ice, this one was fire.

      Flaming red hair, deep blue eyes and the body of a lithe goddess. She moved like a dancer, confidence and strength, like she knew her place in the world and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. A stunner. Yet I felt nothing but appreciation for her as a beautiful woman, whereas Abby turned me on with a tilt of her snooty nose.

      Go figure.

      ‘Hi, I’m Makayla Tarrant, waitress extraordinaire.’ She held out her hand and I shook it, a little relieved when there was no zing. ‘Hope you’re ready to roll up your shirtsleeves and get to work. Remy doesn’t appreciate slackers around here.’

      Abby appeared outraged, shoulders drawn back and icy glare back in full force, and I laughed, liking the other woman already.

      ‘You’ll be pleased to know I intend to work as hard as the rest of you while I’m here.’ I pushed up my sleeves for emphasis, liking when Abby’s gaze drifted to my forearms.

      She’d been mesmerised when I’d done it earlier at the café, like she’d never seen ink before. A blush had appeared on her cheeks as she’d studied me, and I’d had the craziest impulse to strip off and show her exactly how much ink covered my body and where.

      ‘Good, then let’s get started.’ Abby cleared her throat, oddly brusque, and that blush was back.

      Oh, yeah, showing her the rest of my tats could be fun.

      ‘Nice meeting you both,’ I said, with a wave at Makayla and Shaun.

      Shaun shot me a nervous smile and Makayla nodded, her gaze assessing, like she couldn’t figure me out.

      Join the long line, honey.

      Abby strode down the corridor that led to the kitchen, and I followed, the aroma of sugar and cinnamon and buttery goodness getting stronger with every step.

      For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

      Sadness clogged my throat. Potent. Disorienting.

      When she opened a door marked ‘Office’ off the corridor, I’d never been more grateful.

      I couldn’t enter the kitchen right now, not when some strange nostalgia gripped me, making me yearn for a past I’d left behind a long time ago.

      ‘Remy’s very organised, so you’ll find everything documented in spreadsheets. Supply order forms. Current stock. Online orders. The works...’ She trailed off as I slammed the door, wishing I could do the same on the memories swamping me. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

      ‘Nothing,’ I growled, annoyed that she was so insightful. ‘Continue the induction.’

      ‘No.’ She folded her arms, her superiority annoying me as much as the relentless memories of how much I missed Mum. ‘For some reason, being here has you rattled, and I need to know why so we can fix it.’

      ‘Babe, you may be many things, a shrink isn’t one of them.’ I stalked towards her, covering the short distance between us. ‘I don’t need to be fixed.’

      ‘I—I didn’t mean it like that.’ She took a small step back as I invaded her personal space. ‘I want this place to run smoothly while Remy’s away and if there’s a problem I want it sorted now before it affects business.’

      I admired her dedication to my brother. Not many employees would give a rat’s ass about their boss’s business. But no way in hell would I stand here and be analysed by her ladyship.

      ‘So that’s what’s all-important to you, is it? Business?’

      A tiny dent appeared between her brows, as if she didn’t understand the question, before she nodded. ‘Of course. Remy gave me a chance when my life was down the toilet. I owe him. And I won’t have you breezing in here on the pretext of helping and screwing it up.’

      My respect ratcheted up further. I didn’t like many people in this world let alone respect them, so I decided to wind her up a little to detract from the flood of uncharacteristic emotions swamping me the last few minutes.

      ‘If you’re all business, when do you have time for pleasure?’

      Her lips parted in a surprised little O and I took it a step further.

      ‘You do know what pleasure is?’

      I