Sweet Tooth: A Second Chance Romance Read online

  “Uh...do you have change for a ten-dollar bill?”

  I scratched my head. “I hope so,” I said, rummaging through the till. As it was I had just enough.

  “Thanks very much,” the customer grinned. I saw him head off with his daughter, out into the street.

  I looked away, feeling a wistful stab in my chest. I was thirty-two and I sometimes wondered if family life was something that'd ever be for me.

  Sometimes I found myself feeling lost. I had a flourishing career, my own business, friends – and I hadn't really had a lover for the last year. Sure, I had occasional encounters, but I hadn't met anyone I really liked.

  “The last year?” I asked myself as I reached for a piping-bag to make more cookies. More like six.

  I hadn't met someone I felt that I could love, not really.

  Not since he left.

  It was silly, but every morning I thought about Drew. Not consciously, not for long. But he was often in my thoughts.

  I guessed it was just silly of me. After all, why would Drew actually care about me? I was no-one.

  “Ms. Hendricks?”

  I sighed as Kelsey bounded up, ponytail swinging.

  “What, Kelsey?”

  “Daddy's here. He's finishing for the day...” she trailed off, skipping out of the kitchen to the front room.

  “Lucky him,” I said under my breath. At that moment, my friend Frank, father of Kelsey, appeared. He came round the back to the kitchen. He was also a chef – he owned a restaurant around the corner – Green Eat Bistro. We were good friends. If he wasn't married, I think we'd still only be good friends, actually. We really liked each other but I hadn't really considered sleeping with Frank.

  “All! How's it?” Frank asked, leaning his tall form against the wall and giving me a blue-eyed grin.

  I rolled my eyes at him. He sighed.

  “That kinda day?”

  “A don't-even-ask-me-about-it day,” I said, washing flour off my hands and reaching up to draw the net more-firmly over my long brown hair.

  He chuckled. “It's the time of year, I guess. Or something. You know, changing the season and stuff...” He sighed. “Beats me how these things work. But I'm hectic too.”

  “Makes two of us,” I commented, turning to take the scones – at last ready – from the oven. “Kelsey?” I called as I set them out on a plate.

  “Yes?”

  “Take this out to Table four, please? And apologize again for the wait...”

  “Sure thing,” she said cheerfully and headed out.

  “So energetic,” I murmured, watching Kelsey walk briskly to the table, a big grin on her face. It was just after two P.M. and I felt like I was dying on my feet.

  “Yeah. I wish I was her age sometimes,” Frank grinned. “Then I remember school and how horrible it was and I stop.”

  I laughed. Frank always made me laugh. “True,” I said. I wiped down the counter, hands working automatically. I could smell the cakes that Marcelle had cooked and my own stomach groaned in sympathy. I hadn't had much lunch.

  “You busy tonight?” Frank asked.

  “I'm closing at six,” I said. I usually did, except on Friday, when I stayed open until eight.

  “Well, then. Maybe you'd be interested in this event I heard about?” Frank said. “I'm going. Astrid has to be at a class, so it's just me coming along.”

  “Oh?” I frowned.

  “Should I start packing the cakes?” Marcelle asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Uh...are they cooling yet?”

  “They're cool to touch,” Marcelle informed me. Her dark skin was shined with perspiration and I realized for the first time how hot it was in here.

  “Great,” I said. I leaned back, taking off the net cap and sighing appreciatively as the cooler air cooled my hot scalp. “We can box them.”

  “Awesome.”

  “So?” Frank asked as I turned back.

  “You mean tonight?” I asked, fluffing out my hair. “I guess I could.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “I was interested, actually – it's about some new transport venture. They want to advertise it to the local hospitality people. We all get free invitations.”

  “To what?” I asked as the bell at the desk rang and I headed slowly out.

  “To a dinner event,” he said.

  “Oh.” My stomach asserted itself with a sudden pang and I nodded. “Sounds great.”

  “Okay,” Frank nodded. “Well. I'll meet you here at six, then? It's just round the block. At the Drayton Hotel.”

  “Oh. Fancy, then?”

  He shrugged. “Not too fancy, I guess. If you wanna go change first, I guess you can. The event is scheduled to start at seven-thirty.”

  I nodded. “Let's join up at seven, then,” I said, glancing at my dark slacks and sweater. I was dressed for work – not casually, but not super-smart either. I wanted to at least redo my hair and put on a new blouse. With all the running around this one was smelling funny.

  “Fine,” he nodded, smiling broadly. “See you at seven.”

  “Great,” I called as he headed out of the shop. I saw him grin at Kelsey and then head back into the street.

  “Mrs. Hendricks?”

  “Mm?” I turned to Marcelle.

  “Telephone.”

  “Oh. Great. Thanks.”

  I took the call – an order for a tea-party for ten – and headed back into the kitchen. I felt confident. My business was growing. We were starting to make a reasonable profit as equipment was steadily paid off, and I was enjoying myself. If I could just feel at peace in myself, I'd reckon things perfect.

  “More scones, Mrs. Hendricks,” Kelsey informed me with a big grin. “An order for four, table one.”

  “Great,” I said. I set them out and passed her the tray. Then, as I did so, I glanced at the clock. It was almost three. Only three more hours and then we'd close.

  I was planning a route through the traffic to my apartment that would take good time when I suddenly realized something. I was excited about this evening. It was too long since I went out just to have fun.

  I stirred a new batch of dough with renewed vigor and headed through to help Marcelle with packaging the order to get delivered later today.

  At six-thirty I turned in front of the mirror and raised a brow. My trim yet curvy figure was clad in brown slacks, a cream shirt with the top two buttons undone and a long, flowing blazer in a brown somewhere between the color of the slacks and the shirt. I had on high-heels and my hair was done in a kind of chignon style I'd wanted to do for ages, leaving it partially loose and partially in a bun behind my head.

  I don't look bad.

  With red lipstick on my full mouth and subtle brown shadow on my large eyelids, I thought I looked quite pretty.

  You never know who might be there.

  I chuckled. I really should either take the initiative to meet someone, or just quit worrying and throw myself wholeheartedly into baking.

  “Come on Allie. You're done.”

  I turned around from the mirror, lifted my handbag from the hook by the door and headed out to the restaurant.

  When I got there, Frank was already waiting. Wearing navy slacks and a semi-formal shirt, he looked like what he was – ruggedly handsome chef about town. I waved.

  “Hey!” I called, walking over wet sidewalks in my high-heeled boots. “Waiting long?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just got here. You look great.”

  “Oh.” I blushed. “Thanks, Frank. So do you.”

  He chuckled. “I dunno about that. Right. Should we go in?”

  I glanced at my watch and he did the same. “It's early still,” I commented.

  “Mm. But it's cold out.”

  “Yeah.” I shivered. It was warmer than yesterday, but still the evening was turning out to be chilly. I followed him into the lobby of the hotel.

  “Oh!”

  I saw him look as surprised as I felt as we joined the gathered throng in
the lobby, waiting for the event to get started. Everyone else seemed more-formally dressed than we were. I shrank to the back of the crowd, feeling shy in the hall that smelled of perfume and with the air abuzz with genteel conversation.

  He chuckled. “I guess we look a bit different, right?”

  I laughed. “A bit. Should we go?”

  He shrugged. “What's the worst that can happen?”

  I nodded. He was right. I wasn't so under-dressed – not as much as he was, anyhow – and if he was comfortable, I certainly was. “You're right,” I said.

  We looked around. There was a sign in the lobby, just outside the restaurant. “Promotional Event – Safetrans services.”

  I frowned. “What's it about? Frank?”

  He blinked. He'd been surveying the scene, almost as half-asleep as I was. We both wore ourselves out during our work days. “Uh...a taxi service focusing on getting people safely home from pubs and stuff,” he explained neatly.

  I grinned. “I'm out of place then.”

  He smiled. “I guess. You don't have a license, right?”

  “No,” I said with a grin. The Sugarlips Cafe and Pastry Shop didn't really need to be licensed to serve drinks. I wasn't really the clientele these people – whoever they were – wanted in the audience. But still. I was here with Frank. And we were going to have fun. I was staying.

  “Well, looks like we're starting,” he said, raising a brow. The crowd was heading into the restaurant. I nodded. We walked in together, following them in.

  In the posh-looking establishment, a sort of stage had been set up with a microphone. Whoever was going to promote whatever-it-was would be up there, I guessed, noting the discreet lectern with a laptop already set up for the presentation.

  I guess there'll be a boring talk in the middle of dinner, but I don't mind. I'm starving.

  “Ready to order?” An elegant young woman in a starched uniform asked us.

  “Uh...water to drink?” Frank asked. I nodded.

  “Very good. Still or sparkling?”

  Frank ordered sparkling for us both while I read through the rest of the menu. It looked exciting. I realized I'd hung my outdoor coat up on the coat-rack and left my wallet in my pocket. I frowned.

  “Frank?”

  “Uh huh?”

  “I need to go get my wallet quickly. I left it by the door.”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “If the waitress comes back should I place an order for you?”

  “Tell her the pea soup starter, please,” I said as, heart thumping, I ducked between the tables, heading to the door. I hope no-one's stolen it. I dismissed the thought – who in this room would need to go digging in someone's coat looking for money? – but I couldn't help an unnatural fear. Fear made me jittery, and the jitters made me look down, watching my feet as I headed straight for the door.

  I knocked into something hard and stopped dead. I had walked into the waiter.

  “I...so sorry!” I stammered, feeling my cheeks go red. I felt like such a dunce.

  “No problem, ma'am,” the man said politely. “This way, sir?”

  I saw him gesture to a man and then my eyes fell on the man himself.

  The man in a black suit that fit him like he was born in it, covering his muscular form. The man with a tall, lean presence. The man with brown hair and soulful eyes who was, now staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

  I felt the same way.

  I couldn't have been more shocked if he was a ghost – after all, he'd left my life six years ago with no word, dead to me.

  It was Drew.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Drew

  I stared at her.

  “It...Alexandra?” I felt as if someone had just walked into the interior of my chest and switched off my heart. Or switched it on for the first time. Whatever.

  She looked at me with those big brown eyes I remembered from the deepest recesses of my dreams, and her lips parted in shock.

  “Y...you,” she stammered, incoherent. I felt myself smile.

  “Yes, it's me. At least I think it is. Hi.”

  “Drew!” she said then. She still looked aghast, as if I was a ghost or something. My heart crimped up painfully. I felt so many different emotions at that moment. Sorrow, amazement and awkwardness, all rolled into one. I sighed.

  “Yes, it's me. I can't believe...”

  I had been about to say I couldn't believe I'd seen her here, of all crazy happenings, when she turned and walked abruptly away. I lost sight of her in the crowd as my guide – a young waiter called Brice, frowned at me apologetically.

  “Over here, sir.”

  I nodded and followed him up to the podium, walking on legs turned to ice. I felt as if the slightest bend or shift would shatter me. I couldn't believe it. Allie! After all those years.

  I scanned the audience for her, trying to still my heart. I caught sight of chocolate-brown hair somewhere at the back of the crowd, at a table partly-hidden in shadow near the back. In an audience of perhaps a hundred, she was the only one I couldn't properly watch.

  Maybe just as well, I told myself harshly. From a single glance at her my body was already reacting. The last thing I needed right now was to have myself thinking naughty thoughts.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the usher – Brice – said importantly. “If you could take a minute to turn off your mobile devices, we'll get ready to introduce you to the speaker of this evening. Mr. Drew Liston.”

  I felt myself shifting my weight from foot to foot a little nervously. I never usually got nervous before speeches, but now I was. Allie was here.

  “Okay,” Brice said into his hand-held microphone politely. “Welcome to tonight's special exclusive launch event. I'm sure we're in for a great evening. If you will join me, let's put our hands together to welcome Mr. Drew Liston, the CEO of Bradford and Associates. He's here to tell us about an amazing new initiative on offer from their company.”

  I winced, feeling awkward as I always did up here. The company applauded and I tapped my microphone, checking it, and smiled down at my audience nervously.

  “Good evening everyone,” I said, wincing as my voice reverberated around the understated, elegant room and came back to me loudly. “Thanks, Mr. Suffolk, for that polite introduction. And welcome to all of you. As you know already, I'm here to tell you about our new initiative. Safetrans.”

  As I launched into my well-practiced sales-speak, I found my eyes drifting to the back of the hall. The dark-haired presence sat firm, not so much as nodding as I said something lighthearted or sought to win over my audience.

  I knew my speech word-for-word and as I went through it, I found I was focused on that one person. All the rest of the audience were receiving it well, I could see from the head-nodding and the smiles and the occasional laugh as I threw in a short joke.

  She doesn't want to have anything to do with me.

  I was surprised by how hurt I was. I had loved Allie. I don't think she would have guessed how much thoughts of her sustained me during my privileged but routine existence. She was a breath of fresh air.

  And now I can't even escape into thoughts of her, because I know now that she'll never look at me again. She's not interested.

  I talked convincingly, joked well, swayed my audience with all the fervor I'd been taught at Business School. But that rigid back stayed rigid and she didn't so much as glance in my direction.

  “Okay. So now for the surprise in the bottom of the box,” I said with a silly grin. “I'm here to offer all of you, as the backbone of the growing Asheville hospitality scene,” I paused as the audience murmured appropriately, “a tax-free first month of our service. That's right. No subscriptions, no charges. Just plain old service. From the hotels and metro-stations to your restaurant, and back. At no cost to you.”

  As the murmuring broke out with enthusiasm, and some people enthusiastically applauded, I looked around nervously. I could see Allie's back and, as she accepted a plate of soup from the waitress, she
turned a little toward me but it seemed like she was determined to ignore me. She looked rigidly away.

  She really hates me.

  I finished my speech and felt as if my heart had sunk into my shoe-tops. As the audience started to ask questions, eager and excited about the offer, wanting to learn more, I glanced in her direction. She still wasn't looking at me.

  “If we subscribe now, can we change later?”

  “No hidden costs,” I said reassuringly. I had been adamant about that. I wasn't about to trick people into paying for a year of our services by offering them a free month and then deducting charges if they forgot to cancel in advance. It wasn't something I liked.

  “None?”

  “None.”

  The audience sounded happy about that. I turned to take the next question. My eyes wandered from the man asking me the question – an elderly man with elegant white mustache and black suit – to the stiff posture in the rear corner of the room. She seemed to have softened as I drew to a halt and was clapped.