Chapter 5
Amelie must have fallen asleep on the way back to the bakery. She didn’t wake until a hand slipped beneath her thighs and another slid behind her back and lifted her.
She blinked her eyes open and stared up at the blue sky, wondering where the hell she was and why she was pressed up against a wall of muscle.
“What...? Where...?” she murmured as she fought her way out of the fog of exhaustion.
“We’re here at the bakery. I’m carrying you up to your apartment so you can sleep,” Maurice stared down at her, his dark brown eyes smiling down at her as he climbed the stairs to the upper level of the bakery building.
He stopped at the top and nodded. “The team has been here to reinforce your doorframe and install a new deadbolt.” He reached out with a shiny new key, inserted it into the lock and pushed the door open.
“How did you get the key?” she asked, her voice sounding groggy and foreign to her ears.
“I made a call while you were asleep. Remy had a couple of the guys reinforce your doorframe and install a new deadbolt. I stopped at the boat factory for the key, and here we are. You slept the entire time.” Maurice stepped inside.
Amelie lifted her head and stared around at the small apartment. Her apartment. Her personal space that had been violated.
For a moment, she expected to see it as she had right after the break-in. Fortunately, everything was clean and in its proper place from all the work they’d done early that morning.
God, she was tired.
Her first instinct was to lean into Maurice’s strength and let him shoulder the burden for a few more minutes.
When he carried her across the small living area to her bedroom door, her body heated. Completely involuntarily. A strong, handsome man carrying her to her bedroom awakened all kinds of possibilities inside her, bringing her to an abrupt state of awareness and fully awake.
Though she was content... No. Comfortable.
.. No, that wasn’t the word. Although she was suddenly, startlingly aware of the man holding her in his arms, she fought to remain calm and determine how she could extricate herself without touching him any more than she already was—before she succumbed to the rising desire spreading like wildfire throughout her body.
“I’m awake,” she squeaked and tried again in a more measured tone. “I’m awake. You can put me down.”
“Are you sure?” Maurice asked. “You slept all the way from New Orleans, through the stop I made at the boat factory and me carrying you up the stairs. I think you could use more sleep before you tackle unloading the van, organizing all the supplies and prepping for your O-dark-thirty rise to bake the goods to feed the masses.”
Amelie closed her eyes for a moment, really wanting to stay right where she was.
The only other place she’d rather be was in bed, naked with this man.
Her eyes popped open at the thought, and heat flooded her neck, rushing up into her cheeks. “No, really. I’m wide awake.”
At least, she was now because she was shocked to consciousness with the realization that she was having hot half-awake dreams about the man still holding her in his arms.
“Seriously, you can put me down. I’m well and truly awake.”
He paused in her bedroom doorway. “Are you sure? I could unload all the supplies, put those that need to be cool in the refrigerator and the rest on the counters until you tell me where to store them.”
“No. I need to be there.” She gave him a crooked smile. “The nap helped. I should have the energy to see this through. And the sooner I get started, the sooner I can go to bed.”
Maurice nodded. “Okay. You’ve convinced me.” He lowered her legs until her feet touched the floor.
When she swayed, he slipped his hand around her waist and held her until she steadied.
Once Amelie had her feet firmly beneath her, she forced foggy thoughts to coalesce into the tasks ahead.
“I need to bring all the supplies out of the van and place them on the countertops. I’ll separate the ingredients I’ll need for tomorrow morning’s breakfast crowd and store the rest.”
“If you think you’re up to it,” Maurice said, “I’m ready to get started.”
Amelie was far from ready. She needed a really good night’s rest to make up for the lack of sleep the night before.
But if she wanted to get her baked goods prepared on time for the morning crowd, she had to make the impossible possible and get it all done before the clock struck nine—her version of Cinderella’s midnight.
“You have to be beyond tired,” Maurice said as he stepped back and let his arm drop to his side.
“I got a nap. You have to be dead on your feet,” she shot back at him, swaying a little without his strong arm supporting her.
“I’ve lost more sleep and still functioned,” Maurice admitted.
“I might not have performed in a high-intensity battle where lives were on the line, but I’ve done everything I could to get a wedding reception, complete with flowers, place cards, bar tenders and a five-course meal for the guests planned, prepared and presented in under thirty-six hours.
” Amelie grimaced. “I do not in any way want to diminish the sacrifices of our American military, but I do understand stress, killer deadlines and making the deadline no matter what it takes.”
“Okay, then,” Maurice said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Give me two minutes to splash water on my face and freshen up. If I’m not out by then, come in with coffee and a cattle prod to get me moving.” She turned away and spun back. “Just kidding. I’ll be out in two minutes. No cattle prod required.”
“Thank God,” Maurice said. “I have a moral code that will not allow me to use a cattle prod on a woman, no matter how difficult she might be.”
“You own a cattle prod?” Amelie asked.
“Actually, I don’t,” Maurice said. “I’d never use one on another person. I wouldn’t even like to use it on cattle.”
“Good to know,” she said with a grin. “Doesn’t own a cattle prod and is empathetic toward animals.” She winked. “I’ll be right back.”
Maurice stepped back as Amelie closed her bedroom door.
For a long moment, she stared at the door, wanting to open it again and sink into his arms. He was all hard muscles and warm skin, sexy as hell and strong. He’d carried her all the way up the stairs to her apartment. She was no featherweight.
Two minutes. She had two minutes to get a grip, tamp down her wildly beating heart and get to work.
Amelie spun on her heels, hurried into her bathroom and splashed water on her face, hoping to cool the heat rushing through her body.
She could still feel his hands on her thighs and behind her back and the hard plains of his chest against her cheek.
She had to remind herself that he was there to protect her in case the vandal came back, not to satisfy her every naked fantasy.
At that thought, she splashed more water on her face. It was doing nothing to quench the fire coursing through her veins. She gave up, ran a brush through her tangled hair, pulled it back in a tight ponytail and secured it with a scrunchie at the back of her head.
After she straightened her blouse, she gave herself a glance in the mirror and shrugged.
She didn’t have time to dab concealer on the dark shadows beneath her eyes or add a little color to her pale cheeks.
Every day her business closed impacted the bottom line.
That meant the difference between being able to pay for the supplies she’d just put on her credit card and the rent and utilities it took to keep the bakery doors open.
At exactly two minutes from the moment she’d closed her bedroom door, she opened it.
Her heart fluttered at the sight of Maurice standing at the window overlooking Main Street. His broad shoulders filled the room, making it seem much smaller than when she was there alone. Smaller and warmer. Or was she the one who was warmer?
Amelie shook herself, squared her shoulders and marched through the living area. “Ready?”
He turned with a smile that melted her knees. “Ready.” He held out his hand.
She automatically reached for his.
Instead of curling his fingers around hers, he laid a key in her palm. “Hang onto that. It’s the key to your new lock.”
She wrapped her finger around it, shocked at the pang of disappointment that made her chest tighten.
What had she expected? Just because a man had carried her up a set of stairs didn’t mean anything. He was just being nice.
Amelie shoved the key into the pocket of her jeans, pasted a smile on her face and started past Maurice.
He followed her to the door, opened it for her and waited on the landing outside for her to lock it with the new key.
Once she’d pocketed the key again, she turned to start down the stairs.
Maurice reached for her hand and walked down beside her, holding her hand all the way.
Warmth spread through Amelie, making her steps lighter and the tasks ahead of her less daunting.
Between the two of them, they unloaded the supplies from the van into the kitchen.
Amelie quickly sorted through the boxes, bags and bottles of ingredients, giving Maurice guidance on where to store them.
Once she had everything in place and the ingredients for the bread and pastries that the bakery sold most, she stopped to look around with a satisfied smile. “There is one good thing that’s come out of the break-in.”
Maurice placed a bucket of cooking oil on the floor next to another just like it and straightened. “Oh, yeah? What?”
Her smile broadened. “This place is sparkling clean.” She turned her smile on Maurice. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’m betting you would’ve done just fine without me, but thanks. It’s been a learning experience. I never knew there was so much going on behind the scenes. I’ll have a greater appreciation for my morning éclair and coffee.”
Amelie turned to the workbench where she’d left out the ingredients she needed for the next day’s baked goods. “Now to make up the dough for bread, bagels, eclairs and donuts.”