Chapter 5 #2
Sweet Surrender Bakery was exactly the kind of place I would have chosen for Manny and Lia.
It was elegant without being stuffy and creative without being pretentious.
The owner, Lillianna, was a French-trained pastry chef who’d once made a cake for Beyoncé’s birthday.
I wished I’d had time to change out of my navy pencil skirt and white blouse.
This outfit screamed “I take myself too seriously” when paired with my sensible heels, but a morning meeting with another potential couple had run long, leaving me no time to go for something more creative.
I suppose Anica would’ve been proud of me.
With my hair pulled back, I looked like her blonde doppleg?nger.
I arrived fifteen minutes early, determined to establish rapport with Lillianna before Hudson could swoop in with his perfect manners and family connections.
“Mari Landry!” Lillianna greeted me with air kisses. “It’s been too long. How’s Anica?”
“Disgustingly happy and married to a billionaire. She’s good. We’re expanding the business to Chicago.” I grinned.
“Hence this high-profile wedding, yes?” She led me to a private tasting room in the back, a cozy space with soft lighting and a large table already set with plates and elegant cake stands. “A celebrity chef and an Oscar-nominated director. Very impressive.”
“We’re excited about the opportunity,” I said, carefully avoiding the fact that I was competing for the contract. “Though they have... unique requirements.”
“The other planner, you mean. I’ve heard the rumors. The famous Hudson Gable, expanding to Chicago and competing directly with Knot Your Average Wedding. Very dramatic.” Her eyes twinkled.
“That’s one word for it.”
“He’s handsome, no? I’ve seen his picture in wedding magazines.”
“If you like the Ken doll type,” I said dismissively, ignoring the treacherous flutter in my stomach. “All packaging and no substance.”
“Ah, you Americans. Always pretending not to notice beauty when it’s right in front of you. In France, we appreciate beauty openly. We don’t pretend indifference.”
Before I could respond with something appropriately cynical, the door opened, and Hudson walked in, looking edible in a light grey suit that made his eyes seem even greener.
Manny and Lia followed closely behind, holding hands and radiating that nauseating newly engaged glow that made my teeth hurt. Maybe I was in the wrong business.
“Sorry we’re a few minutes late,” Lia said, embracing me. “Traffic was terrible.”
“Worth the wait,” I assured her, subtly repositioning myself away from Hudson, who was greeting Lillianna with a kiss on each cheek like he’d known her for years.
“Lillianna, your reputation precedes you,” he said with a charm that made me want to gag.
“As does yours, Mr. Gable,” she replied. “Now, shall we begin?”
We settled around the tasting table laden with elegant cake samples, each one a miniature work of art. Lillianna explained each creation, from the classics like vanilla bean with raspberry filling to the more adventurous matcha green tea with white chocolate ganache.
I sat directly across from Hudson, with Manny and Lia on either side of the table.
The position gave me a perfect view of his face, and him an unobstructed view of mine.
As Lillianna described the first cake, I had a sudden, wicked thought.
If Hudson could make me uncomfortable with just his presence, maybe I could return the favor.
Maybe I could shake that unshakable mask right off his stupid chiseled face.
A small voice in my head pointed out that I’d been the one who’d wanted professional boundaries, but it wasn’t like I was going to dry hump the man in front of our clients. It was just a little sensual flirting to throw him off a cliff…Err, I meant throw him off his game.
“For the engagement party, we’re thinking something unexpected,” Manny said, his chef’s palate clearly engaged. “Something that represents our blend of culinary expertise and cinematic storytelling.”
“What about a deconstructed cake?” I suggested, picking up my fork and running my finger slowly along the tines. Hudson’s gaze flickered to the movement, then back to my face. “Individual elements arranged like a film scene, with each component representing a chapter of your relationship?”
“That’s hardly practical for serving the amount of guests invited,” Hudson countered, his voice steady despite the slight darkening of his eyes. “A tiered design would be more efficient and still allow for artistic expression.”
“Because efficiency is what everyone wants at a celebration of love,” I said with a sweet smile that I knew he could see right through.
I accepted another sample from Lillianna—a decadent chocolate cake with espresso buttercream—and deliberately brought the fork to my lips.
Instead of taking a quick bite, I slid the cake slowly into my mouth, closing my eyes as if in ecstasy.
“Oh my god,” I moaned, perhaps a touch dramatically. “This is incredible.”
When I opened my eyes, Hudson was watching me with an intensity that sent heat spiraling through my body. His knuckles were white around his own fork. Score one for me.
“I believe what Ms. Landry means,” Hudson said to the clients, his knee briefly brushing mine under the table before he shifted away, “is that there’s value in both approaches. Perhaps a compromise. A structurally sound design with deconstructed elements as accent pieces.”
I blinked. Had he just... supported my idea? In his own controlling, perfectionist way?
“I like that.” Lia nodded enthusiastically.
“Sounds wonderful,” Manny added, squeezing her hand.
I forced myself not to roll my eyes at the cheesiness, though I caught Hudson suppressing a similar reaction. Maybe we had something in common after all; a low tolerance for public displays of saccharine affection.
“Let’s taste another, shall we?” Lillianna suggested.
For the next sample—the vanilla bean cake with raspberry filling—I tried a different tactic.
I let a tiny bit of the raspberry jam linger on my lower lip, then slowly licked it off, my gaze meeting Hudson’s as I did.
His pupils dilated, and he shifted in his chair.
The man was as predictable as the moon’s phases.
“The raspberry really comes through,” I said, running the pad of my thumb along my lip.
Hudson cleared his throat. “The texture is excellent,” he managed, his voice rougher than before. “Very delicious.”
“Mmm, definitely,” I agreed, dragging my finger through a bit of leftover frosting on my plate and bringing it to my lips. “I love how it melts on the tongue.”
Manny and Lia were busy discussing the flavor profile with Lillianna, oblivious to the silent battle happening across the table. Hudson’s expression remained professional, but the muscles worked in his jaw and his nostrils flared as he watched my finger disappear between my lips.
“The notes of honey are sublime,” I said when we moved to the next sample.
As I spoke, I let my foot gently brush against Hudson’s ankle under the table. His attention snapped to me, a warning somewhere in there that I completely ignored. In fact, I widened my eyes innocently and took another bite, letting out a small, satisfied sigh.
“The flavor balance is excellent,” he agreed, his voice controlled despite the tension in his shoulders. “Though the structure could be more stable for a summer event. The cream might not hold up in warmer temperatures.”
My traitorous mind focused on Hudson’s movements.
The way he aligned his fork between bites, how he dabbed his mouth with his napkin after each taste, the careful way he made notes on his tablet.
It was like watching someone perform a ritual, and it was strangely mesmerizing. Annoying, but mesmerizing.
A smudge of cream lingered at the corner of his mouth. My fingers itched with the urge to reach over and wipe it away. Or better yet, to lean across the table and lick it off.
Shit.
When had he turned the tables on me? Was he doing it on purpose like I had been? Shit. Shit. Shit.
Manny’s phone rang. He checked it with a frown. “I’m so sorry. There’s an issue at one of my restaurants that requires my immediate attention.”
“I should go with him,” Lia said, already standing.
“Of course,” Hudson and I said in unison.
“Please continue the tasting,” Manny insisted. “We trust your judgment. Just narrow it down to the top three options, and we’ll make the final decision.”
“Lillianna, the zabaglione with blackberry is definitely still in the running,” Lia called as they hurried out.
And just like that, we were alone. Well, almost. Lillianna excused herself to take a call from another client, promising to return in fifteen minutes.
Hudson and I sat in silence, the table between us covered in half-eaten cake samples and abandoned tasting notes.
“What the hell were you doing?” He asked finally, breaking the silence. “Trying to turn me on?”
I snorted. “You wish.”
“You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”
“They didn’t notice,” I said, stabbing a piece of lemon cake with my fork.
“What happened to remaining professional?”
“I was professional.” I pointed my fork at him accusingly. “I just really like cake.”
His eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
“No, I really do.” I shrugged, moaning again as I ate the bite off my fork. “Really, really do.”
Something flashed in his eyes. “You asked for professionalism.”
“I know what I said.”
“Do you?” He leaned forward. “Because the way you’re acting, you make me seriously doubt that.”
“I’m acting like me, Hudson. Do you have a problem with that?” I raised an eyebrow, challenging him as I gathered more frosting on my fork to lick off.
“Yes.”
“Sucks for you. I’m just eating cake. If your mind is taking you other places—“
“Landry…” He glared at me, though his gaze dropped to my mouth as I ran my tongue over the frosting. God, he was easy. “I’m warning you.”
“So I can’t have my cake and eat it too?”