TWO
SHE’D PRESSED ONE.
After being up most of the night with Lighting Darkness, she’d drifted off. The jarring automated voice had woken her with its insistence. “ If you would like to connect with Agent 1908 in future, please press one. ” Yes, the voice had broken her slumber, but the sun was over the horizon by then.
Agent 1908.
He’d been in her head all through her gym workout. Since then and all the way to the bake-off. Had he stayed on the phone even after she was asleep? He couldn’t have, surely. How embarrassing. What gave her the right? Other clients would’ve needed his attention. He must’ve disconnected at some point to return her to the automated voice.
“Ow, fuck!”
Tossing down the baking sheet, she stretched her stinging finger, already streaked with red from earlier burns.
“What is with you today?” Yvette came over to rescue the sheet from its spot teetering on the edge of the counter. “Remember, Savanna, sweetie, this is supposed to be fun.”
“Yeah, well, this is my version of fun. Wait a while, I’ll end up in the ER. What a hoot that’ll be.”
“Let me see.”
“It’s fine,” she said, but let Yvette pull her over to the sink to run cold water on it.
Celeste, her poised supervisor, was already popping cookies from the sheet onto the cooling rack.
“You’re doing better than Nessa,” Yvette said, increasing the pressure until the water spat up and out in tiny jets dampening her apron. “She’s her own kind of special. At least you’re producing something.”
“Blood and burns, clever me, neither would get me past the health department. Thank God this is for charity.”
“You’re the only one who can do the cupcake frosting right.”
Each of the thirty stations in the tent was manned by teams from various businesses around the city. Unofficially, a little healthy competition ran between the two Breckenridge teams. Not only in this event, but others they participated in too.
It was kind of a thing. A long running thing. Was it completely healthy on all their parts…? No, not exactly.
Many years ago, Celeste and her archnemesis, Maureen, from the luxury leather department, started at Breckenridge Retail together. At one point, according to legend, they’d been friends. Whatever went wrong happened way in the distant past, way, way, distant. There were so many versions that she couldn’t make head nor tail of the truth. Not that she ever really asked or investigated with laser-precise focus… or any focus at all really. Still, nothing like a little palace intrigue to keep the peasants happy.
“Oh my God,” Nessa gasped from further down the opposite side of their counter.
Celeste whipped around, following the younger woman’s line of sight. She couldn’t help but do the same when her boss’s jaw fell.
“Shit.” Yvette’s sentiment matched the rippling intrigue of whispers and stares engulfing the tent. See, peasants happy. “That’s Alice Breckenridge.”
“With the bodyguards?”
“Those are not bodyguards, they’re her boys… two of them anyway.”
Big and broad, they dwarfed their mother who glided like she was on castors past flanking baking stations. Beautiful, with blonde hair in a French roll lined by pearls, real she’d bet, the lady reeked of class. The regal woman acknowledged all without stopping or touching anyone.
The Breckenridge family. American royalty.
Her boys were less refined, but no less entrancing.
“Go frost those cupcakes,” Yvette hissed in her ear.
Yes, cupcakes. Look busy. Not like they were agog at the spectacle of the richest people any of them ever breathed near.
What was the point of charity when people like them existed?
Placing cherries on top of the already frosted cupcakes, they had to get those ones out of the way to make space for more. Concentrate. Nothing to see here, rich folks. Just common people, living out their meaningless existences. Ants in the farm, organized chaos. Underlings. Minions. Inferiors.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Breckenridge!” Celeste rushed past her. She didn’t turn to see why, not with that Breckenridge voice so close. Cupcakes. Cherries. “Wow, this is unexpected.”
“We’re showing our support. Wonderful to see Breckenridge people working hard for a good cause.”
“We take part in as many charity events as we can,” Celeste said. Yeah, especially when Luxe Leather signed up. “Several a month.” Keeping them busy. “We have a stall just outside, selling the produce.”
“Yes, we saw that, it’s very busy,” Alice Breckenridge said. “We didn’t want to interrupt.”
“We have fresh baked goods here. Would you like a taste?”
“My boys would.”
“Mom—”
“These women have worked hard. Appreciate their labor.”
Two cupcakes were swiped from her station, including one she hadn’t dressed.
“Thank you,” a deep voice purred. “What’s your name?”
“Celeste and this is—oh—” She got an elbow in the ribs. “Cherry. Cherry.”
Right, cherry.
Spinning around, cherry aloft, her stomach bottomed out as a rush of heat flooded her head. Damn, dark, masculine eyes locked on her and suddenly she couldn’t breathe let alone see to put the cherry in place.
“Thank you, Cherry.”
Was that like—oh no. Whirling away from him, she meant to grab the counter to kill her momentum. But, of course, she overcorrected. Her hand sailed right past, sweeping cupcakes and cookies every which way.
“Damnit,” Celeste yapped. “That’s two hours work.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
“No, my son should apologize.” Alice’s amusement did nothing to quell her embarrassment. Dropping to a crouch, she gathered the mess into her apron. “Darroch, apologize.”
Oh, God, this was awful. Awful. Why did these things happen—she shouldn’t be allowed near people, definitely not near super-rich people. Why did she have to learn that today? And in front of the family who owned the company that employed her?
“He has nothing to apologize for,” Celeste said. “Savanna’s a walking calamity. This always happens. She’s a klutz.”
Yes, story of her life.
Reaching around, she scraped the crumbs into a pile, noting the line of overlapping cookies shooting out toward the feet behind her. Her weight shifted and her butt slipped from her heels, landing her knee square on one of the dark boots flanking the cookies.
Great job!
“Shit,” she hissed, cringing as she glanced upward to those same inscrutable eyes that wouldn’t cut her a break. “Sorry.”
“Don’t swear at him,” Celeste grumbled in a rush.
His large hand moved from his side toward her. What was she supposed to do? Not touch him probably, that would be the safest bet… Except, wouldn’t it be rude not to accept—her fingers slid over his and his hold closed around them. Sure, strong, oh her heart couldn’t take the pulse rate.
He yanked her to her feet, stealing her breath with his strength.
Better not to even try inhaling. Just stand there, Sav. Don’t move. Don’t breathe, just wait for him to let go.
“You’re wet,” he stated.
What the—her mouth dropped open and immediately closed again as—did he really just say—how did he know that? Was she? Oh, God, yes. Mmm, he was hot. All dark hair, definition, and casual gravity sucking women under. Bet every female near him was wet, that’s how he knew. Must happen every day, all the time. Women would be sliding off their seats left and right around him.
“I—” His chin rose in a gesture that took her gaze down to— “My apron.” Shit, that’s what he meant. “Yes! My apron is wet.”
Which he knew because he’d just said it. God, please, ground, open up and swallow her down.
“Can I have it?”
Could he—what the hell was—oh, fuck. He could have anything he damn well liked and knew it, that glint in his eye was way too astute.
“My… You want my apron?”
A smirk quirked his lips for the briefest second and he licked his lips to hide it. God, given half a chance she’d have done that for him. Mmm, Mr. Breckenridge, that wide, dark pink enticement. Thank God he was so much taller than her or she’d be sucking on that like ice-cream from a spoon.
“The cherry.”
Fuck, where was her head? Right. Because he hadn’t—that would mean letting him go. Why was she still holding his hand? Let go, Savanna. Dropping one somehow released the other and the mess in her apron scattered on the floor again.
“Damnit.” Crouching, she grabbed a cherry and straightened up, headbutting his hand in the process, sending the cupcake flying in a new direction.
“This is an interesting group,” Alice said.
She couldn’t break the lock his eyes held on hers. Swaying from the lack of oxygen in her brain, she raised the fruit between them.
“You want my cherry?”
Fuck. Did she really just say that? There was that smirk again, and someone laughed. A male, but not the one distracting her.
Someone, the other guy, smacked his brother’s shoulder. “Best offer he’s had all day.”
“I did—I didn’t—that wasn’t what I meant.” Her laugh was feeble. “I wouldn’t—what a ridiculous thing to say. I’m no virgin, who is these days? You’re sure as hell not. Have you seen you? Not that you would or anyone should—and I just said that in front of your mom. Why am I talking about sex in front of your mother? Why am I talking about sex at all? It’s because you’re attractive. I’m a jabbering idiot in front of hot men and you’re like a twelve on the hotness scale—damn, twelve feels like an insult. I need to—I’m not doing myself any favors here, I should just…”
Squeezing her eyes closed, she was so grateful when Yvette put an arm around her.
“Forgive my friend,” Yvette said, “she has a condition. We don’t let her out much.”
After that spectacle, no one should let her out at all.
“I’m Nessa.” Their younger cohort slid between them. Small mercies were welcome. “And I’ll share my cookies.”
Okay, so that joke was deliberate, but the woman got away with it. That’s what she should do, aim for flirt and maybe she’d hit tease… No, actually, that wouldn’t happen at all, she’d probably end up in cuffs.
“Breckenridge Intimates are very welcoming,” Alice said, her tone indecipherable. “I see our Luxe Leathers have a team as well. Did you consider joining forces?”
“We have a good-natured rivalry, an in-house contest, to see who can raise the most for the charity.”
“Ah, good fun.” Thank God the woman thought that way. “I sense my sons’ piqued interest already. They can rarely resist a wager; it’s a curse they got from their father. What is the prize?”
“Uh…”
“Glory,” Yvette interjected.
The other brother spoke up. “We’ve got to do better than that.”
“Caber?” Alice asked. “You and your brother—”
“What do you say, Roch? Want to make this interesting?”
“Forgive my boys for being competitive.”
“Winner gets lucky.”
“You’re on,” Darroch said. “Leather or lace?”
“I’m taking leather, you have a thing over here.”
A disadvantage: her. The guy’s eyes only flicked to her for a second, but she got it. With this Darroch guy around, she’d be a liability.
“You’re attractive too,” her voice said to the one Alice called Caber.
Her voice? Just all on its own. It wasn’t her. Not “on purpose” her anyway. What was going on with her senses acting without direction… without permission?
“Two things Breckenridge boys don’t share,” he said. “The second is…”
“Women,” the pair said in unison as their mother rolled her eyes.
As the men were about to part, Alice raised a hand, halting them both. “Rules?”
“Ah, Mom—”
“You work back here. I don’t want either of you on the stalls drawing crowds. You are not in charge, follow orders.”
“No money changes hands and no sabotage,” Caber said. “We know the drill.”
“Then let the games begin. I’ll inform your father.”
Caber dashed across the aisle to the opposite Breckenridge team, his mother not far behind him.
“Okay, team, what’s the plan?”
The plan. Shit. It sure hadn’t been for Mr. GQ model in designer jeans and a perfectly pressed tee-shirt to join their ranks.
“Cookies and cupcakes,” Celeste said. “Do you have baking experience?”
“College.”
“Excellent,” Celeste beamed.
He kinda cringed. “I don’t think that variety of brownie fit the theme.”
Nessa laughed. Loud. So loud it startled the rest of them. “I can show you.”
“No,” Celeste said, ushering Darroch the long way round to the other end of the counter. “Yvette can show you, she’s married.”
Nessa came closer, until they were arm to arm. “Wouldn’t stop me,” she muttered. “Check out that ass.”
Oh, God help her, but it was impossible to ignore. “We should stay away from him. Both of us.”
“They said the winner got lucky. Shouldn’t that count for us too?”
Lucky would be getting through the rest of the day without embarrassing herself any further.
From nowhere, Celeste materialized to crowd her. “You…” Grabbing her arm, she was forced to turn her back to the Breckenridge. “Stay at this end. Frosting is your world. I don’t care if you have to paint faces on the cookies to keep busy, do not look at that man or waste anymore of our stock.”
“No problem,” she said, drawing out the sentiment. “Go, team.”
Yeah, her gusto was gone. She’d keep her head down and frost her heart out. The cause mattered; it deserved their best. Just so happened that day her best was less than stellar.