Bootscootin' Blahniks (38 page)

She loaded the dishwasher, trying to unload her irritation, dangling the enormity of Sienna’s wedding in front of her muses, hoping like hell they’d save her ass.

Foreseeing her company’s demise at the hands of her over-zealous ambitions, she wandered the streets of self-pity-ville. Hearing the doorbell chime, she sidestepped a deep gutter of gloom in favor of the ass chewing she’d dish Cody.

How was she supposed to make Sweet Destiny a success if she couldn’t count on her produce man to deliver on time? Good thing he was a terrific guy, fantastic friend and fabulous looking. Otherwise, he’d have been replaced a long time ago.

She opened the door, her lips set to hurl him a stern warning. But once her eyes took in his sweet as maple sugar smile, her vocal chords froze stiffer than her award-winning meringue.

Cody Weiss, the best fruit and vegetable man in Nashville, Tennessee, stood on her porch with a basket load of gorgeous, fresh-picked raspberries, blackberries and blueberries.

Damn his perfect fruit. And damn his dreamy, Stetson-covered head.

“Sorry I’m late.” Cody stepped into Jules’ entryway, tipping his hat while trying not to drop the berries.

Seeing fire in her mocha eyes, his gut churned like the crank of his Grandma Lucy’s ice cream maker. Jules perused the berries he’d busted his butt picking ’til the night sky stopped him. As the angry sparks lighting her glare burned down to smoldering embers, Cody’s hope of ending up in her good graces re-kindled.

The woman’s intensity and demanding demeanor were both captivating and infuriating. She was a combustible ball of beauty and energy, revving every ounce of his manhood.

“It’s about time you showed up.” Jules heaved a sigh lifting her ample cleavage close to his face.

“It sure is.” Cody took a deep breath, forcing his mind away from her bountiful breasts, fighting the surge in his groin before it sent him to his knees begging for forgiveness. “Smells like my timing is impeccable. What you got in that oven?”

An almost invisible upturn of the corner of her mouth told him she wasn’t about to let her smile rise above her fury. But the hint of that smile struggling to stay hidden still tickled him.

He followed his nose and Jules’ fine backside into the kitchen, hoping to score a bit of whatever taste of heaven she’d whipped up. She could do things with sugar, flour, and eggs he’d never seen duplicated, not even in the kitchens of Nashville’s famed Meat N’ Three diners. And being the heir apparent to his Grandma Lucy’s Lunchbox Café, voted Nashville’s best diner nineteen times, he considered himself an expert on all foods fried, artery-clogging, sweet and delicious.

He set the berry basket on the center island. Sliding onto a bar stool, he felt like he did as a boy at the Lunchbox’s counter waiting on his mom and grandma to pull out something wonderful from the deep-fat fryer.

Jules bent over and opened the oven door.

The scintillating rear-view of her perfectly proportioned, yoga-toned hind-end messed with his testosterone level. Heat shot to his groin. An intense pressure built against the inside of his jeans. What he wouldn’t give to sneak up behind her and…well…he had several ideas on what he’d like to do next. None of which eased the strain on his zipper.

“Well, don’t just sit there gawking,” Jules said, coming at him with a piping hot baking sheet. “Pour us some coffee.”

“Sure thing, JuJu Bee,” he said, noticing the stress lines creasing her pretty forehead, goading his instincts to search and destroy whoever was responsible for her upheaval. “After we demolish these scones, I’ll help you with the berry pudding.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t. But I’m not sitting here while you bust your ass.”” As Cody retrieved the coffee pot, his arm brushed hers, sending tremors of electricity to the tips of his boots.

“Cody, I appreciate it. Truly, I do.” Jules set out butter, honey and a knife. “But you know how I am in the kitchen and -”

“You’re right, I do.” He interrupted her before she could make a decent argument. “But I survived three months with you in The Neon Cowboy’s kitchen and I’ve volunteered for another go around. Not sure what that says about my mind. But the shape you’re in tonight, I’m willing to trade my mental competency for yours.”

“You really are nuts,” Jules said then laughed.

Cody’s heart tightened against his chest at the sound of her laughter, even if it was at his expense. He liked that for a woman in her mid thirties, she laughed like a little girl watching her favorite cartoon. Spontaneous giggles. Untouched by inhibitions. But giggles farther and farther apart now that she was consumed by the bakery and Fan Fest.

“Okay, Stud, as you wish. But you know the rules. Don’t do anything until I tell you how and when.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of the rules. Your diva-hood in the kitchen is no secret of the South.” Cody poured her coffee, stirring in three raw sugars like she preferred. “So why the need for the cinnamon scones? That isn’t a good sign.”

“I make scones all the time.” Jules wiped a small bead of sweat from her brow.

“I
am
a pastry chef or did you forget?” Slicing through a scone, a tiny trail of melted cinnamon chip clung to the knife as she lifted it from the plate.

“No, smart ass, I didn’t forget your occupation.” Cody licked his lips as Jules dipped the knife into the butter tub then slathered the inside of the scone. “But you don’t make your aunt’s sacred cinnamon chip scones, at home, after nine p.m., when you have other stuff that must be made before calling it a night.”

Topping the scones with drizzles of honey, she made him salivate like Pavlov’s dog.

“I could have had the other stuff done if you’d gotten your ass here on time with my berries,” she said then took a healthy bite of scone, catching one drop of honey with her tongue but losing another drop down the dangerously scooped neckline of her strawberry red tank top.

“Hey, you know there aren’t enough hours for what crazy people like us dish onto our plates. I’m sorry I’m late, but I had to help Grams and Mom finish up tomorrow’s menu prep before I headed out into the fields to pick your berries.”

“I know. I know. And I’m sorry for being so impatient. Shit. I am losing it, aren’t I?” Jules licked her fingers then tugged at her bra as if coercing her double bounty back into place.

Fixated on cleavage management like any loyal, concerned male friend should be, Cody couldn’t help but concentrate on the honey, wet and sticky, smack dab across one of her nipples.

“Need help corralling the twins?” he asked, not able to suppress the ornery grin spreading across his mouth. “There’s some honey…”

He reached his hand toward her chest, his fingertips fueled by a desire he fought with everything in him to contain.

“I got it.” She swatted his hand while biting back a smile then took a napkin to the honey. “I look like a complete wreck.”

“No you don’t. A bit tired and anxious, but not a wreck.” Cody sat next to her and reached for a scone, dead-set on finding the reason for her panic. “So why is this pudding such a big deal?”

Jules swiveled her stool to face him, her drama-wielding, large, browner-than-brown eyes begging for sympathy like a puppy at the pound. She sighed, as if ready to unload a Titanic-sized sinking ship.

Heeding her mayday call, a gargantuan wave of concern crashed against Cody’s chest. Unlike her staunch, independent style, a fierce determination Cody struggled to adjust to, this time Jules didn’t appear to want to go it alone in her life raft. Determined to keep her afloat, his stomach tightened then tumbled into a swelling abyss. Who or what could have her so off-balance?

“Like the idyllic idiot Aunt Tulip raised me to be, and as if the stress of getting Sweet Destiny open wasn’t mind numbing enough, I thought I’d jump start the bakery and better my shot at the Fan Fest gig by booking a big-time catering event.” Jules drummed her manicured nails against the countertop.

“Nothing I’d consider obscenely grandiose for your normal M.O.,” Cody said. “You’re always biting off, pun-intended, more than you can handle. So what’s the problem?”

She moved her mouth as if simply exercising her jaw would exorcise her troubles, perhaps searching for words she was uncomfortable spilling.

“The event I signed to do is the wedding of Sienna Cruz. Although ‘event’, in its singular form, is a misnomer.”

Cody damn near choked on his scone. He gulped, forcing the biscuit to descend his throat, swallowing it along with his raw nerves. Though a year and a half had passed, hearing Sienna’s name twisted his gut into cantaloupe-sized knots.

“She’s marrying that country music up-and-comer Evan Granger, right?” Cody hoped his nonchalant voice betrayed his depth of knowledge about Sienna and the sting her name fired up in his gut like an ulcer that couldn’t be pacified. “Smart move, JuJu Bee. That event will be fantastic press for Sweet Destiny.”

Potential disaster for him to be in any way associated with, but he should be focusing on Jules’ needs now, right? Not consumed by his deep-rooted despise for all things Cruz. Imploring his ego and instincts to take second seat to Jules’ chance to make a great start for Sweet Destiny, he buried his desire to warn her about getting mixed up in Sienna’s world.

Sienna and Company loathed
him
, he reminded himself, not Jules. How could they not adore her? He’d never seen anyone, including himself, not be immediately drawn into her high-energy escapades.

“You won’t be touting my brilliance for long.” Jules opened and closed her fingers as if she were squeezing the juice out of an imaginary orange. “The booking includes not just Sienna and Evan’s six hundred-guest wedding day-slash-night gala, but also her bridal shower and bachelorette party…”

“Ouch. You’ve certainly taken on quite the monster…I mean monster events,” Cody said, catching the sharpened edge tingeing his sarcasm, unable to hide his disdain.

“Nyah, nyah, nyah. Not done yet.”

“There’s more?”

Jules nodded her head, affirming she hadn’t reached the end of the nightmare. “I’m also doing the rehearsal dinner, which is where you come in.”

“Where I
what
?” Cody turned his head away from her reality busting bravado and sucked in a much-needed gulp of air.

“You heard me. So here’s the kicker.” Jules crossed to the recessed nook she used as a mobile command center when baking from home.

She flipped through her planner, turning the book sideways and upside down.

Why the hell she still used the prehistoric, non-earth friendly paper version was beyond him. He’d tried to convince her to trade the beast in for an electronic PDA but had failed. How she read the damn thing with scribbles scratched on every page was a mystery.

Skimming pages like a champion speed reader, she slammed shut the book’s cover. “
We
have one month until I’ll be hocking pastries seven days a week at Sweet Destiny. And exactly three months and one week, after our meeting tomorrow with Sienna and her family, to pull off Nashville’s premier event of the holiday season.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Cody moved his hat lower on his head, trying to shadow the horror he knew pierced through his eyes.

“I want you and Grandma Lucy’s Lunchbox Café to help me with the rehearsal dinner as well as anything else out of my comfort level. Kind of a Fan Fest practice gig. I’m the pastry chef, remember? You’re the Meat N’ Three Diner King,” Jules said, her eyes wide with desperation, pleading with him not to even think about letting her down. “Together, we can’t lose.”

Sad, he’d spent countless hours reaching the same conclusion. Together, as a couple, they would be dynamite. But unsure she’d feel the same, if he ever got the balls to bring up the topic, Cody had shoved that thought to a mental shelf he rarely used. Now the idea had manifested itself in a frightening and unintended direction.

“I think I need something stronger than coffee,” he said.

“Good idea. We should toast our partnership and develop a plan for the meeting.” Jules gave him the last scone out of the basket then headed to her liquid courage stash in the turntable next to the frig.

He’d be toast all right, Cody thought, picturing he and Cruz and Company at their first face-to-face since all hell arrived with wedding bells eighteen months prior.

Watching Jules’ body relax while she mixed their drinks made Cody’s head and heart spin. His brain prepared for battle, favoring the flight response instead of fighting the Cruz’s on their turf. His heart, however, charged on, fueled by Jules’ need for him and his diner.

Maybe he should tell her about he and Sienna’s past.

Jules slipped up behind him, handed him a drink then planted her sweet lips on his cheek. Chills of pleasure from the warmth of her breath rippled across his skin and settled in his soul.

Maybe he’d keep quiet.

“Thank you, Sweet Man. Just knowing you’re beside me means everything to me.”

“Anything for you, JuJu Bee.” Cody kissed her nose, tasting a bit of leftover butter and honey.

He could certainly use the positive press about his produce in case he got the balls soon to pursue opening his own market. Not that that was likely.
But perhaps.
Maybe
.
Get back with him in a couple of weeks
.

Cruz and Company
could
also surprise him and act like adults, putting business and Sienna’s impending nuptials ahead of their misplaced aggression.

Or maybe Jules was right and he was nuts.

J
ules opened the rear hatch of her Prius, sending silent pleas to the precariously balanced cargo to maintain position. The ozone may be benefiting from her choice of hybrid transportation but her catering needs were riding the edge of disaster. Her meeting with Sienna minutes away, she didn’t have time for disasters.

Careful to keep from cracking her head on the doorframe, she fished her pants pockets for the well-abused checklist she’d torn from her planner. If only she had Cody’s organizational skills. He’d stab his stylus against some button on his Blackberry and the To Do’s would pop up on his screen, probably in alphabetical order. ‘Course that was assuming he’d charged the batteries. A minor flaw but one Jules capitalized on with immense satisfaction. Payback for the grief he piled on her for the forests of Post-It notes she leveled.