Sweet Thing Read online

  I’d suffered enough rejection to last a lifetime.

  ‘So you and Abby might be more than a passing fad?’

  ‘Abby and I will sort out our own business, thanks very much.’ I grinned at Remy’s faux hurt. ‘As for you, you old busybody, get better fast.’

  Remy smiled but sadness lurked in his eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe my flippant act.

  ‘Both you and Abby mean a lot to me. Don’t screw this up, okay?’

  ‘I’ll do my best not to.’ I saluted. ‘Anything else, captain?’

  Remy hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, before he shook his head. ‘Abby’s important to me, professionally and personally, so take care of her.’

  Sombreness was catchy as I nodded. ‘I will.’

  A promise I had every intention of keeping, if she let me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Abby

  I DIDN’T HAVE time to wonder if Tanner had enjoyed the breakfast I’d left him or be grateful when he’d snuck out around six. Because at one minute past nine Makayla checked Le Miel’s website and discovered we had a massive order for a ladies’ function at Bondi. The kind of order that would send Remy into a tizz because of the possibility of repeat business. The kind of order to garner a week’s profits in a day.

  ‘How can we possibly do this?’ Makayla printed out the order, her brow furrowed. ‘It usually takes you and Remy working like maniacs to fulfil an order like this. Even then, it’s touch and go.’

  I should say no. It was lunacy even contemplating trying to fill this order. Besides, my first instinct to say yes sent a shiver of fear through me. I’d determinedly set aside my people-pleasing personality a year ago, had worked damn hard to ensure I learned to say no.

  Then I glanced at the computer, saw Remy’s face in the corner of our website’s home page, and my fear faded.

  Agreeing to tackle a big challenge for the man who’d given me a break when I needed it most wasn’t being servile. It was a way of helping out a friend who’d helped me, a way of giving back. I owed Remy and I knew without a doubt he’d rather I tackled this massive job than wimp out.

  ‘What time do they need it by?’

  Makayla stared at me like I’d lost my mind even contemplating this. ‘Delivery at two thirty for afternoon tea at three.’

  ‘Shit,’ I muttered, scanning the list and mentally prioritising. ‘We can supply the mini-croissants from the lot I baked this morning and put the “Sold Out” sign out front. Then I can make the strawberry tarts, the apple turnovers, the pains au chocolat and the beignets—’

  ‘You’re crazy. You’ll never get all that done.’ Makayla gnawed at her bottom lip and rustled the paper at me. ‘Seriously. We’re going to have to outsource—’

  ‘Remy never does that. He hates putting his name to products he didn’t make.’

  ‘I know, but what can we do? We’re screwed.’

  I heard a footfall behind me. ‘What’s the problem, ladies?’

  My heart leapt in recognition, and something akin to happiness, as I turned to Tanner. ‘A massive order just came in. Big profits. And I can’t do it without Remy.’

  He stared at me, brows furrowed, eyes clouded with an unfathomable emotion I could almost label as fear, before he blinked and swiped a hand across his face. When he lowered his hand, determination accentuated the lines around his mouth, like he’d come to a decision and wouldn’t let anything or anyone derail him.

  ‘I can help,’ he said, rolling up his shirtsleeves, making me salivate a little at a glimpse of those striking tattoos. ‘What do you need me to do?’

  I appreciated the offer but I still couldn’t shake the feeling he didn’t want to be here. Saddened by the thought it could be because of me and our newfound intimacy last night.

  ‘Unless you’re a secret pastry chef, there’s no chance in hell we can do this—’

  ‘I can cook.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Let’s get this done.’

  ‘I admire your tenacity but with all due respect being able to cook a steak on a barbecue and being able to create pastries worthy of the Le Miel name are worlds apart.’

  One of his eyebrows quirked. ‘You’re doubting my skills?’

  He made skills sound like I doubted his prowess out of the kitchen, and Makayla stifled a chuckle behind me.

  ‘This isn’t a joke, Tanner. This is Remy’s reputation on the line if we can’t deliver—’

  ‘Then stop wasting time and let’s get cracking.’ He strode into the kitchen, leaving me gaping after him—and unable to resist staring at his mighty fine ass.

  ‘Something tells me you two won’t need any ovens in there, you generate that much heat between you,’ Makayla said, her gaze speculative as she stared after Tanner too. ‘Look, we’ve got nothing to lose. Let him help. Get as much done as you can and if you can’t do it all I’m sure we can substitute the strawberry tartlets with lemon from the front store, and swap pain au chocolat for pain au lait from the massive batch you made early this morning at some ungodly hour.’

  Makayla’s eyes narrowed. ‘Though why you’d be down here baking when you could be kneading some prime male is beyond me.’

  I tended to agree with her.

  ‘No time to chat,’ I said, and Makayla laughed at my brusqueness. ‘Get in touch with the contact person on that order and ask if they’re okay with us substituting some of the items.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ Makayla saluted, then shooed me towards the kitchen. ‘Now go cook with that delicious man.’

  ‘This is a recipe for disaster,’ I muttered, dragging my feet.

  I liked Tanner. I liked that he was ready, willing and able to pitch in at a time like this. I didn’t like having to babysit him while I tried to concentrate on producing quality pastries in the fastest time possible.

  Trudging into the kitchen, I was surprised to see him with apron on, hairnet and cap in place, with sugar, butter, flour and eggs in the correct quantities lined up in front of him on Remy’s workspace.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Making croissants,’ he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that a nightclub owner could create Viennoiserie pastries. But he still hadn’t lost the haunted look, like being in the kitchen terrified him, and it worried me. ‘Remy taught me when we were teens, so I’ve got it covered.’

  He waved at my workstation. ‘You get started on the rest.’

  Stunned, I stared at him as he sectioned the butter and measured out the precise amount of flour.

  ‘Babe, I know you love perving on me, but you’re wasting time.’ He dusted his hands with flour and blew me a kiss, creating a tiny flour cloud in the air. ‘We’ve got an order to fill.’

  Speechless, I headed to my workstation, methodically working through the pastries I needed to make while trying not to sneak peeks at Tanner, who appeared to be an expert in laminating dough and creating the perfect croissant.

  I couldn’t believe it as he produced symmetrical and equal-sized croissants, filling two trays of fifty each.

  ‘One hundred enough?’ he asked, sliding the trays into the oven and setting the timer.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, sounding a little awestruck. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’

  ‘Climb the Harbour Bridge.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Afraid of heights.’

  ‘Well, lucky for me you’re not afraid of getting elbow deep in flour,’ I said, putting the finishing touches on the strawberry tartlets. ‘I can’t believe you made those croissants.’

  ‘I’m a man of many talents,’ he said, puffing out his chest in mock bravado. ‘As I’m sure you can attest to.’ He came up behind me and placed a kiss on the nape of my neck, sending a shiver of delight through me. ‘You’re pretty hot when you’re concentrating.’

  He pressed against me, showing me exactly how hot
he found me, and I groaned, rubbing my butt against him.

  ‘Later,’ he growled, nipping at my neck, my earlobe, before seeking out my mouth for a quick peck. ‘I’ve already pissed off Remy enough this morning. Let’s not add to his distress by mucking up this order.’

  ‘You’ve already been to see him?’

  He came around the front of my workbench and I glimpsed worry in his eyes. ‘Yeah, visiting hours start at eight, I was there at seven.’

  ‘You told him about us?’

  He nodded, the grooves bracketing his mouth deepening. ‘It went as I expected. Him warning me off you, me reassuring him I wouldn’t hurt you.’

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’

  He hesitated before shaking his head. ‘No problem. My brother’s a worrywart, always has been. He thinks this may get more complicated than either of us anticipated.’

  I didn’t want to tell Tanner I agreed with Remy.

  Labelling Tanner the tattooed rebel as prime sex-toy material to purge my past had been fine at the start. But after having dinner with him last night, having him spend the night and now, watching him create incredible pastries like he did it every day of the week, I knew we were in serious danger of moving past a casual fling and into some nebulous, murky area I dared not label for making things complicated.

  ‘But right now, our only complication is who’s going to make the pains au chocolat, and if mine’s better than yours, what are you going to do about it?’

  I chuckled at his cockiness and jabbed a finger towards his workspace. ‘You get started on them, I’ll make the beignets.’

  ‘I love it when you’re bossy,’ he said, with a wink. ‘In and out of the bedroom.’

  Heat crept into my cheeks and I waved him away. ‘We’ve got three hours to get the rest of this order done. Let’s do it.’

  ‘And later tonight, we’ll do it for real,’ he said, his voice low and husky, making me yearn for him to bend me over and fill me in the way only he could.

  ‘Work first,’ I said, clearing my throat, my hands shaking a little as I reached for the flour.

  ‘Speaking of tonight, I’d like to take you out to dinner.’ He threw it out there, casual as you like, like asking me out on a date was an everyday occurrence. ‘Nothing fancy, but my favourite Thai place will soon become yours if you enjoy spicy Asian fusion.’

  ‘Sounds great, thanks.’

  How I managed to sound offhand, I’d never know, while inside I did whirls and sidekicks.

  ‘Pick you up at seven thirty?’

  ‘Okay.’

  We didn’t talk much after that, as we focussed on creating pastries worthy of the Le Miel name. But I was super aware of him working alongside me, the big, bad, baker boy, making delicate pastries with ease, making me crave him something fierce.

  Was there anything sexier than a man who knew his way around a kitchen? For me, no. I liked a guy confident with a bowl and spatula, a guy who could combine sugar, eggs and flour and create magic, a guy like Tanner.

  I liked Tanner. A lot. Today had solidified my feelings into one crazy, scary ball of longing deep inside.

  The way he’d pitched in, the way he’d made a potentially stressful situation fun, the way he’d taken charge, all incredibly attractive.

  But it was more than how he looked or how he behaved. Tanner was a good guy, despite doing his best to appear otherwise with the tats and the glower. He attracted me on some subliminal level I had no hope of analysing or explaining.

  I wanted Tanner. Perhaps for longer than our short-term fling. Which begged the question: What happened to me at the end of our arrangement when he didn’t want the same?

  I’d had the guts to walk away from my marriage and had been all set to walk away from Tanner with just as much nonchalance. Easy in theory, much harder in practice.

  I’d never wanted to make this difficult. I’d wanted a casual, fun fling to take the edge off my otherwise routine life. I’d wanted to experience steamy sex with a hot guy. But now that we’d potentially moved past that...I had to admit to being worried.

  I’d come so far in a year. I didn’t want a relationship where I could potentially revert to the meek, compliant woman who’d do anything to keep the peace and her partner happy.

  That kind of commitment scared me. I had my goals. If I had Tanner in my life for longer than a few weeks, would I lose sight of them? I didn’t want to find out.

  Remy had every right to be concerned.

  Tanner and I were one big complication waiting to happen.

  And there wasn’t one damn thing I could do about it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tanner

  ‘I DON’T BELIEVE THIS.’ I glared at the sign hanging in the window of my favourite Thai restaurant, announcing they were closed for renovations. ‘I didn’t even think to book because it’s one of those walk-in places that rarely requires a reservation.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Abby laid a hand on my arm. ‘We can eat anywhere.’

  True, but I’d wanted to show her a place that meant something to me, to see how she acted in the surroundings. Not a test, as such, just a way of convincing myself that while we connected physically we could never be anything long term.

  Looked like the cosmos had punished me for being underhanded and I’d have to resort to Plan B. If I had one.

  ‘Honestly, I’m not fussed where we eat.’ She patted my forearm and removed her hand. ‘It’s been a long day, so I’d be happy with fast food and an early night.’

  ‘You just want to get me naked as soon as humanly possible,’ I said, grinning when she blushed. ‘You’re so predictable.’

  ‘Am not,’ she said, with a defiant tilt of her head. Her nonchalant act would’ve worked too, if I hadn’t glimpsed the naughty gleam in her eyes. ‘I am hungry, but if you want to grab something and head back to my place...’

  Best invitation I’d heard all day but this date was about proving a point and that was exactly what I’d do. Our strong sexual connection wasn’t conducive to showing her how different we were outside the bedroom and how we could never be anything more than bonking buddies.

  ‘How about fish and chips on Manly beach?’

  If my subtle change of subject surprised her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she nodded. ‘It’s a long way from the Cross to Manly by car.’

  ‘We’ll take the ferry.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘Would you believe I’ve lived in Sydney my whole life and never been on the Manly ferry?’

  ‘Never?’

  She glanced away, her shoulders slumping a little. ‘I got chauffeured everywhere. By Dad, our chauffeur and later Bardley’s driver.’

  ‘Bardley. I still think it’s such a bullshit name,’ I snarled, hating the stab of jealousy at her casual use of her ex’s name.

  ‘Totally.’ She laughed and slipped her hand into mine. ‘I’ve never eaten fish and chips on the beach either, so I’m in.’

  Wouldn’t her family have a fit if they knew their little princess was being taken on a no-frills date involving simple food and a ferry? It made me wonder, did she miss her old life at all?

  She might hate her ex but it had to be tough living a life of luxury, then leaving it all behind. Considering how hard we’d worked today filling that urgent order, she must do that all the time with Remy. Throw in the small apartment, and it had to be a big comedown from her previous life. I admired her all the more.

  ‘Do you miss your old life?’

  She stiffened as we strolled back to the car. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Curiosity.’ I opened the car door for her and waited until she sat before closing it and getting in the driver side. ‘Bit of a comedown, switching from chauffeurs to ferries.’

  She took an eternity to answer, as if formulating an acceptable answer. ‘I miss
my family. And some of my friends. But that lifestyle was never important to me.’

  That was where we differed. Every luxury I could afford now was testament to how far I’d come. How far I’d proved Father wrong.

  Not that I took my wealth for granted or flaunted it, but I revelled in my hard-earned success. And thanked the old bastard every day for spurring me on to become the man he never thought I could be.

  ‘So you’re not in touch with anyone from your old life?’

  We stopped at a traffic light and I shot her a glance. Her lips were compressed and her arms folded, protecting herself from...what? Memories? Sadness? Me?

  ‘No.’

  A short, sharp response that clearly meant she didn’t want to talk, so I remained silent until we reached Circular Quay, bought tickets and boarded the ferry.

  But I couldn’t let it go. Gaining an insight into her past would make it easier for me when this thing between us ended. I liked Abby. I didn’t want to hurt her. Knowing what made her tick beyond the superficial would ensure I could let her down gently. ‘Have you ever thought about getting in touch with your family?’

  I expected her to shoot me down again with a death glare. Instead, she stared at the Opera House, lost in thought.

  ‘Yeah, I think about getting in touch with Mum. I miss her.’ She dragged her gaze away from the white sails and focussed on me. ‘You’ll think I’m an idiot, but I even drove past a day spa we used to go to together the other day, hoping for a glimpse of her.’

  ‘You miss her. That’s not stupid.’ I slung an arm over her shoulder and cradled her close. ‘I miss Remy when I’m overseas. It’s normal. Family has a way of getting under our skin.’

  Though not always in a good way. Dad had been testament to that.

  ‘I can’t believe she hasn’t reached out after a year, you know?’ She rested a hand on my thigh, a comfortable, intimate gesture that secretly thrilled me.

  She trusted me. Trusted me enough to talk about her past. But was I worthy of that trust?

  ‘A whole year without so much as a phone call.’ She shook her head. ‘What kind of a mother does that?’