Chapter 5 #2
Maurice shook his head. “Surely, you have time to grab a bite to eat before diving in.”
“I can’t spare the time it takes to cook a meal or wait for it at a restaurant.” She tied an apron over her clothing and pulled a net cap over her head, tucking in her ponytail. “Lunch was enough. But if you’re hungry, you don’t have to stick around.”
A knock sounded at the back door of the kitchen.
Amelie crossed the floor to answer.
Maurice beat her to it and opened it to find Remy Montagne, Maurice’s boss and the leader of the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors. And he was holding a pizza box. “Anyone hungry?”
The scent of warm pizza, tomato sauce and cheese filled the air, making Amelie’s stomach rumble loudly. She pressed a hand to her belly, heat rising into her cheeks.
Maurice grinned. “Lunch was enough, was it?”
“It was until I smelled pizza.” She hurried over. “Tell me it has pepperoni on it.”
Remy laughed. “It has everything on it. Except anchovies. Shelby thought you might need sustenance, and I thought I’d get a sitrep on what’s going on.”
“Is Shelby on duty?” Amelie asked.
“On baby duty,” Remy clarified. “She sent me out on the pizza run. I can’t stay long.
I have another pizza in the truck. But I wanted to get the details of what happened last night straight from the horses’ mouths.
I also had a call from Hank Patterson, asking if we needed any further assistance other than Swede’s technical support. ”
“Come into the front of the shop where we can set the pizza down on one of the bistro tables.” Amelie led the way through the kitchen into the front of the bakery, switching on lights along the way.
While Remy dropped the pizza box on a table, Maurice filled him in on what had occurred the night before.
Amelie turned on the coffee maker, measured coffee into the filter and poured in water.
She found paper plates and napkins they’d just stocked on a shelf behind the counter and brought them to the table.
“Which brings us to our trip to New Orleans.” Maurice opened the box and let Amelie select a slice first.
“What happened in New Orleans that made you get Swede working on researching a French family and a German dude?” Remy asked.
Amelie gave him a brief rundown of her work in Paris, her mentor, Armand, and Luis, the chef’s son. Then she told him about getting a call from Luis and their subsequent lunch meeting.
“Sounds like Schulz was looking for lost or stolen art or antiquities,” Remy said. “Which is a little odd, considering the Nazi’s stole so much artwork, and some of it disappeared.”
“I thought the same,” Maurice said.
“I spent a lot of time with Armand over the four years I worked with him,” Amelie said.
“I never once saw any artwork or antiquities in his flat in Paris or in his restaurant. And he never mentioned owning any. As far as I could tell from the stories he shared about his parents’ escape from Paris and subsequent return, they had very little and had to start over.
You’d think that if they’d managed to get artwork out of Paris, they might’ve sold it at some point. ”
“Maybe they did.” Remy’s brow wrinkled. “Schulz might be tracing back through their journey to find who they sold it to.”
“That could be a challenge,” Maurice said, “without knowing what the artwork or antiques were, and the people who sold and bought the item or items aren’t around to ask.”
“That’s why we’re lucky having access to a computer genius like Swede,” Remy said with a grin. “If there’s information out there, he’ll find it. I suspect there are some records, especially if Schulz knew enough to chase down Armand Beno?t’s son to see if he knew anything about family treasures.”
A chill slithered down the back of Amelie’s neck. “Do you think the break-in here at my bakery had anything to do with whatever it is Fredrick Schulz is looking for?”
Remy frowned. “Good question.”
Maurice’s eyes narrowed. “You did spend more time with Armand Beno?t than his own son. If Schulz was able to find Luis in California, he could’ve stumbled across the fact you were close to Armand—”
“—and came to Bayou Mambaloa to search my bakery?” Amelie shook her head. It sounded too bizarre.
“You said yourself, nothing was missing,” Remy reminded her.
“But the vandal destroyed so much. If he was looking for a painting or an antique, why rip everything apart?”
“Unless the item is small…like a pocket watch?” Maurice offered.
Amelie’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you think whoever broke into my bakery might go after Luis because of the pocket watch?”
“I sent the photos I took of the watch to Swede and asked him to see if it was worth anything,” Maurice said. “I also asked him if he could figure out what the numbers mean.”
“Show me the photos,” Remy said.
Maurice pulled out his phone, brought up the pictures and handed the phone to his boss.
After studying the images, Remy shook his head. “No idea. Maybe it’s a combination or code for something.”
“I’d think it’s too many numbers for a combination lock,” Maurice said.
“The number of a bank account?” Remy guessed.
Maurice’s brow dipped. “Maybe. Some European bank account numbers are really long.”
Remy nodded. “If it is a bank account, Swede will figure it out.” He glanced from Maurice to Amelie. “Any other revelations I should be aware of?”
Amelie met Maurice’s gaze. They shook their heads in unison.
Maurice’s mouth quirked at the corners.
That slight upward movement sent warmth flowing through Amelie as if they’d shared a moment. Which was ridiculous.
She turned her attention back to Remy. “I take it the sheriff’s department hasn’t come up with a suspect for the break-in.”
Remy’s lips pressed together. “No. I’m sorry. The latent prints were mostly yours, and there were too many in the front from customers. They suspect that whoever broke in was wearing gloves.”
Maurice snorted. “They should look for a suspect with flour all over those gloves and his shoes.”
“I’ll be sure to remind Shelby, although I’m sure she already knows.
” He smiled. “In the meantime, enjoy your pizza. I need to get mine home. I’m sure Shelby’s getting hangry by now.
And I have bath duty tonight, which means Jean-Luc and I will both be soaked.
That little guy loves playing in the water. ”
Maurice and Amelie walked Remy to the back door and let him out, locking the door behind him.
They returned to the pizza, ate quickly and got back to work.
Amelie put Maurice to work measuring flour and buttering bread pans, while she mixed dough, kneaded and shaped it, then set the bread to rise.
Once she had the bread dough where she wanted it, she worked on preparing pastries and then cookies.
By the time nine o’clock rolled around, Amelie was sagging against the counter, her feet, back and head ached, but she was ready for the next day.
Her baked goods were ready, her kitchen was clean and she’d only missed one day of sales.
She smiled. “Wow.” She hung her apron on a hook on the wall and turned her smile on Maurice.
“We did it. Now, all I have to do is put things in the oven tomorrow morning. Baked with Love will be open as usual tomorrow morning.” Tired beyond measure, tears welled in her eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Maurice pulled her into his arms. “I have no doubt you would’ve done just fine without me, but thanks.”
She laid her cheek on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. “If you ever want a job as a sous chef, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
He chuckled, his arms tightening around her. “Be careful. I might take you up on the offer.” He rested his chin on top of her hair.
“I meant it. It’s been a while since I’ve had help in the kitchen. Actually, since New Orleans almost two years ago.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t in your way. You were amazing. You didn’t let a little setback knock you for a loop.” He tipped her head back.
She blinked back the tears filling her eyes.
Maurice frowned. “Hey, why the tears?”
“I don’t know,” she said and sniffed. “Tired, I guess. It’s the first time we’ve slowed down since the break-in.”
“Let’s lock up and get you upstairs. You need that sleep.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.
Amelie’s pulse quickened, pushing exhaustion to the back of her mind and a different need overpowered her desire for sleep.
Maybe it was delirium from lack of sleep, or relief that she’d managed to pull off a miracle. Whatever it was made Amelie lean up on her toes and press her lips to his.
As soon as her mouth connected with his, heat flowed through her chest, into her arms and legs and coiled low in her belly. Her hands slid up his chest to lace behind his neck, bringing him closer.
She opened to him.
For a second, he hesitated.
Had she made a mistake? Was she pushing for something he wasn’t feeling?
Then he claimed her mouth, swept her tongue with his in a sensuous dance, crushing her to his chest.
What had started as a kiss to her forehead ended in a fiery connection that shook her world.
When at last he loosened his hold, she drew in a shaky breath, her hands sliding down to his chest. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?” Maurice brushed a strand of her hair that had escaped the net cap back behind her ear.
“I shouldn’t have...kissed you.” Suddenly embarrassed, she refused to meet his gaze. “I’d better go to bed before I do something else you might regret.”
He tipped her chin upward until she was forced to look him in the eyes. “I think there were two sides to that kiss, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Yeah, but you hesitated,” she shook her head. “You didn’t have to kiss me back.”
“But I did.” He touched his lips to the tip of her nose and set her at arm’s length. “Look, we’re both tired to the point we’re half-drunk. We both need sleep. Let’s get you up to your apartment and sort through all this tomorrow, after we’ve slept and our heads are clear.”
Amelie wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me. I need sleep.” She turned and hurried toward the back door.
Maurice beat her to it and stepped outside first. Once he’d had a chance to look around, he opened the door wider and held it for her.
Amelie exited, turned and locked the bakery with the new key. When she turned to go up to her apartment, Maurice was at her side. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. I’m here to protect you. Until they find the vandal, you’re not safe.”
“I have a new lock and key.”
“What if he’s good at picking locks? After I clear the apartment, you can kick me out.” He walked up the stairs beside her and held out his hand for the key.
Amelie dug it out of her pocket and laid it in his hand. Touching his palm sent fire racing through her once again. She fought the urge to fling herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her again.
Maurice’s face showed nothing of what he might be thinking. No sign that he wanted to kiss her again. No sign of anything.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Less than a minute later, he was back. “All clear.”
Amelie entered her apartment. It looked the same as it had after they’d cleaned up the mess earlier that day. Had it been just that morning? It felt more like a lifetime since she’d entered her apartment last.
“Lock the door behind me,” Maurice said behind her.
She spun to see him standing on the landing, pulling the door closed between them.
Amelie, suddenly afraid, put out a hand to stop him. “Are you leaving me?”
He shook his head. “I’ll sleep out here.”
She shook her head. “You can’t sleep out there. What if it rains?”
“The chance of rain tonight is less than ten percent.”
“But you can’t sleep out there.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said.
“Then come inside and sleep on the sofa.”
He shook his head.
“Please,” she whispered. “I promise not to throw myself at you again.”
His lips twitched. “I’m not afraid of that.”
She frowned. “Then what are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid I might not be able to control myself with you.”
Her heartbeat fluttered and then raced. “What if I’m okay with that?”
He sighed and stepped through the door and stood in front of her without reaching out to hold her. “Amelie, you’re a beautiful, amazing woman. The kind of woman who deserves a man who can commit to her.”
Amelie nodded. “And you’re not the kind of man who wants to commit.”
Maurice shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
Again, Amelie nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I think so.” She lifted her chin. “But I refuse to let you sleep out on the landing. You’ll sleep on the sofa. If it makes you feel better, I’ll lock my bedroom door—and I won’t try to kiss you again.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
He stared down at her hand for a moment and then back up into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was tired and a little loopy.” She forced a smile. “Forget about it. We’ll just be friends.” She kept her hand out.
Eventually, he took it, gave it a gentle shake and let go too quickly.
“You can shower first.” She reached around him, closed the door and turned the deadbolt. “I’m going to pour a glass of wine.”
Maurice showered in record time, emerging from her bedroom before Amelie was halfway through her glass of wine. He came out wearing his jeans and nothing else, a towel wrapped around his naked shoulders.
She held up her glass. “Want one?”
“I do.”
“You can help yourself to anything in the fridge.” Amelie forced herself to walk calmly into her room, resisting the urge to dive through and slam the door behind her.
Once inside, she closed the door softly and slid to the floor, careful not to spill her wine. The tears she’d held at bay slid down her cheeks. She swallowed hard to keep a sob from rising up her throat.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered.
“Did you say something?” Maurice’s voice sounded through the door.
“No,” she choked out. “I’m fine.” Just fine.
Then why did she feel like she was falling apart?
One kiss shouldn’t have left her an emotional wreck.
She tipped back her wine glass, swallowing the last of the liquid and letting it numb her heart. Then she did what she always did. She picked herself up by the bootstraps and got on with life.
Though, knowing Maurice was on the other side of the door, half-naked and completely immune to her...
Or was he?
Either way, she’d offered him sex with no strings attached.
And he’d refused.
Well, that sucked lemons.