Sweetest Temptations (11 page)

14

I was right to be worried. As Kennedy turned down Broadway, I had a terrible sense of déjà vu. Fire crews and police cars covered the street, as did a thick cloud of smoke blanketing the air. A lump as thick as a golf ball formed in my throat as Kennedy pulled over and parked the SUV.

“I feel like we’ve done this before,” Kennedy muttered as he turned off the engine. Reaching for my hand, I was grateful for the contact. It was the only thing grounding me at the moment.

It took several moments before I gathered enough courage to step out onto the sidewalk. In an instant, Kennedy was beside me, clasping my hand as we walked forward. The closer we got to my bakery, the harder my heart beat, creating a pounding in my head that made me dizzy. I couldn’t walk fast enough, and yet the only thing I wanted to do was turn around and run back to the SUV.

A few feet away from the storefront, the source of the smoke became apparent. A gasp tore out of me and my knees threatened to buckle as I watched a handful of firemen standing on the sidewalk pumping gallons of water from an enormous hose through the front door.

“Who called tonight?” I asked Kennedy, my voice hoarse with emotion.

“Jack. He said there was a fire.”

Tears sprang to my eyes, and it took everything inside of me to keep them from falling. “Was it one of the ovens?”

“They won’t know for sure until the fire is out and they can go inside to investigate.”

I nodded, not sure what more there was to say. I wouldn’t have any answers until later. “I need to find Lieutenant Marks.”

Taking the lead, Kennedy wove us through the chaos. Locating a uniformed officer, he pointed us in the direction of the lieutenant.

“Are you Ms. Satcher?” Lieutenant Marks asked me, his pale eyes finding mine as he shook Kennedy’s hand. I gave him a sharp nod and he reached for my hand, shaking it too. “Thank you for coming down so quickly. I’m sure this has all been a shock to you, so I’m going to cut straight to the point. The reason I called you down here is because one of your workers, a Mister Dexter Miles,” he said, consulting a palm-sized notebook, “was found inside when the fire crew arrived.”

A horrified cry escaped me and Kennedy drew me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “Is he okay?” he asked.

“Aside from mild smoke inhalation, he has a nasty bump on his head. I have an officer with him now who will take his statement. The reason I called you down, Ms. Satcher, was to ask if you know of anyone who would have a reason to harm you or your business. A former colleague perhaps?”

“What? No, of course not. Aside from Dexter, I run my business alone.”

“What about former employees? Someone who might be upset they were let go.”

“She just opened the doors a couple weeks ago,” Kennedy informed him.

“He’s right. Dexter’s the only employee I have.”

“What about him? Would Mr. Miles have any reason to be upset with you?”

“No, absolutely not. We’re friends,” I told him, chucking the outrageous question right out the window. It wasn’t as if Dexter would have knocked himself over his own head.

When the hoses shut down, we stood back and watched as several of the crew ventured inside. They didn’t come back out for a long time, and when they finally did, I felt like leaping out of my skin.

“I see Jack over there,” Kennedy said, pointing to one of the trucks. “I’ll be right back.”

I let him go, because if anyone could get answers, it would be Ken. Left alone with Lieutenant Marks, I asked the burning question. “Do you think this was arson?”

Marks’ expression gave nothing way, but I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that I was right. “It’s too early to tell,” he hedged, “but if you want my personal opinion, it looks that way.”

“And what are you basing that on?”

“Twenty-eight years in the field, ma’am.”

Hugging myself, I looked away. My mind spun with everything I’d have to do come morning. Call the insurance company. Visit the hospital to be sure Dex was okay. Probably pay the police station a visit and try to get some solid answers. Two weeks in, and my dreams were going up in smoke right before my eyes.

When Kennedy rejoined me, without a word, he looped his arm around my waist and led me back to the SUV. He said nothing as we returned to his apartment. His lips remained sealed as he stripped me of my clothes and laid me in his bed, and he remained quiet as he climbed in behind me and wrapped his naked body around mine.

There was nothing sexual about the way he held me. Instead, I felt the tension radiating off him, as if he had received troubling news and needed to be close to me. Needing to be close to him, too, I laced my fingers with his and tucked our joined hands beneath my chin.

Silence in the aftermath of chaos is something a person has to experience firsthand to understand the full, tremendous weight of it. I’d never experienced anything like it before tonight. It’s what I would imagine feeling if someone I loved were to die. It creeps in, settling in every cell, every pore, until all a person can feel is the oppressive weight of it crushing down on them.

I guessed it was what depression must feel like, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball, close my eyes, and pretend none of it had ever happened. And that’s exactly what I did.

***

Dex was released from the hospital early the next morning. When he’d called to tell me he’d made it home safely, I felt like a total wretch for leaving him hanging. I hadn’t intended to sleep the morning away, but after the night I’d had, it was exactly what I needed.

Naturally, I’d launched into a million questions, hardly taking a breath as I got them all out. Dexter answered each one with the patience of a saint. From what he could remember, he’d locked up at closing time, just like I’d instructed. After cleaning up and packaging all the leftover goods, he went over the checklist I’d left him. Everything was in its place. But on his way back to the front to retrieve the keys to lock up, he heard a noise. The next thing he knew, he was waking up on a stretcher, bouncing around like a rag doll as the ambulance rushed him away.

He literally didn’t know what hit him.

The rest of the morning was spent in Kennedy’s bed. I reported the fire to my insurance agent while he made us a late breakfast and did some light cleaning. By the time I ventured out of bed, it was going on noon.

“Heading out?” I’d found Ken in his walk-in closet—one so large that it instantly made me jealous. He smiled warmly as he stepped into a pair of dark jeans.

“I’m on call today.”

Counting the days, I cursed under my breath, realizing that our time together had ended. “You have to go to the station.”

“Two days on, like clockwork.” He must have sensed my profound disappointment. The next thing I knew, a shirtless Kennedy was standing in front of me. Running his fingers through my hair, he tilted my head back so he could look me in the eyes. “I’d stay if I could.”

“I know.”

“Spending the last three days with you has been amazing. If I had the choice to go to work or shut out the world and stay in bed with you all day, I wouldn’t even have to think about it.”

Why did this feel like a goodbye? The needy part of me, buried way down deep, began to claw its way to the surface at the idea of being without Kennedy for any length of time. “Me either,” I said, knowing that it couldn’t be healthy to feel this strongly over a man I hardly knew.

“I can drive you home. Or you can stay here until I get back.” I heard the hope in his voice, saw the touch of a smile curving his full lips, and felt some of my tension ease away.

“I should get back. I need a change of clothes and a shower.”

“I have a shower here, and there’s the clothing optional rule I forgot to tell you about.”

Kennedy’s offer was tempting, but I just couldn’t do it. Aside from having none of my belongings with me, I had a job, a cat, and a life to return to. Taking shelter in Kennedy’s home, in his life, wasn’t an option. “I can’t,” I said regretfully. “But call me when you’re off and we can get together again.”

My answer came off flippant, as if the last few days were nothing but a fond memory, but if Kennedy could see the knots forming inside of me right now, he’d know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

His frown tore at me, and I had to force myself to stand my ground. “All right. Go get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. After we eat, I’ll drop you off at home.”

The shrewd look in his eyes let me know that Kennedy didn’t trust the steady, confident image I projected, but he released me without pushing the issue. Relieved, I dashed off to the bedroom to find my clothes and steal a few moments alone to get my emotions in check.

15

The damage wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought it would be. Standing in
Sweetest Temptations’
kitchen doorway, I scanned the charred remains with a critical eye. Everything, from the appliances to the flooring, would have to be replaced.

Kennedy and I hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since he dropped me off at my apartment nearly twenty-four hours ago. So, I was more than happy to find out that he was one of the people heading the investigation. Seeing him in my workspace, even burned-out and water-logged as it was, was such a pleasure. As he moved around, checking things off on his clipboard, I wanted to walk over and throw myself into his arms. I wanted to tell him I missed him and ask him to take me home again, just so we could steal a few moments alone together.

It was official. Kennedy Harper had gotten under my skin.

Finishing his notes, Kennedy approached. “Let’s go outside and talk.”

I led the way, stopping as soon as I stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. It was hard to imagine that just yesterday, there had been customers going through the door, buying my pastries. Now, it was a ghost town. People walked by and stared, then continued on to their destination. It was hard not to adopt a defeatist attitude, but I reminded myself once again that I was made of stronger stuff than that. I would get through this and rise up stronger than before.

“So, what did you find?”

“Well, the police report says that the rear service door was open, and when we checked it out, we found damage surrounding the locks. Whoever attacked Dexter came in through the alley. The fire damage is isolated to the kitchen. We found the remains of an oven mitt on one of the burners. No evidence of accelerant. So,” he said with a deep inhale, “the question comes down to whether or not the ovens were used and someone simply forgot to shut it off, causing a fire, or…” He raised his eyebrows, saying what we were both thinking without words.

“Or someone wanted to make it appear that way.”

“Exactly. Obviously the presence of an assailant rules out an accident. Going off that, I think whoever it was wanted to send a message, but they didn’t plan on Dexter being here. And I’m not entirely convinced that they really meant for anyone to get hurt.”

“How can you say that?” I protested. “They hit him over the head. Knocked him out cold. That seems pretty malicious to me.”

“Not if they’re the one who called 9-1-1 afterward.”

My breath caught as I considered his words. “Do the police know who called?”

“No, they did it from a payphone down the block, apparently wanting to remain anonymous.”

“How convenient.” Was it too much to ask for the criminal at large to supply a full name and home address? I wanted this asshole caught and behind bars. “I just don’t understand why this person has it out for me. What could I have done to piss them off so badly that they’d want to burn my business down?”

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Abby,” Kennedy said, his tone softening, “I know you said before that you didn’t think that woman, Mrs. Findlay, was capable of doing you any harm, but what if she is?”

“You think she could be behind this?” I scoffed at the idea. “She’s a middle-aged woman who harbors an unhealthy addiction to cookies. I hardly think someone who makes a habit of visiting every day and giving me her money would be an arsonist.”

“Stranger things have happened, sweet. Consider it for a minute. What kind of person would visit a business on a daily basis—a business they admitted they loved and had a personal stake in? Do you think that person would be happy to see it pass hands to a stranger, or would they be angry that they couldn’t keep it in the family?”

Dread washed over me as I considered this new angle. Then I recalled how I’d come to own it. “When I was buying the space, there was another buyer interested in it. We ended up in a bidding war. I won.”
Obviously
. “What if the other bidder was Mrs. Findlay?”

“It certainly warrants looking into.”

I couldn’t agree more. Mulling over his words, I tried to picture the gray-haired woman with the sweet smile and easy demeanor clocking Dexter over the head and setting fire to the place, but I just couldn’t align the images in my mind. Still, it was the only logical explanation I had at the moment, and it had enough merit that I couldn’t just write it off. The whole situation was enough to give me hives.

“How are you holding up?” Kennedy’s eyes shown with concern, and as he ran a finger down the side of my face and traced my bottom lip, he proved a wonderful distraction.

“I’m doing okay. It feels strange not coming into work though. I feel like I should be doing more with my day, but there’s nothing to do.”

He nodded. “You work hard, so I can imagine. I’d feel lost, too, if I suddenly didn’t have the station to go to anymore. Just consider it a vacation. Watch some soaps, soak in the tub, read a book. You’ll be back before you know it.”

I shrugged half-heartedly. “I know, but every minute seems to drag. I’ve never been much of a homebody. I need action. Adventure.” I needed Kennedy. He’d chase away my boredom—no problem.

“Give me another day, and I’ll help keep you occupied.” A wicked smile formed on his mouth, and I answered it with what I hoped was a scorching kiss filled with lots of tongue. Judging by the erection pressing against my stomach, I’d accomplished my goal.

With a satisfied smirk, I broke away. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

Biting my lip, I waved as I backed away. When I tripped backward over a raised area of sidewalk, I spun around and hurried home, grinning like an idiot despite my burning cheeks.

***

I hadn’t made it to the evening before I couldn’t sit still any longer. Television just wasn’t cutting it for me. I needed something more, which was why I ended up in the kitchen, surrounded by stacks of two types of brownies and five kinds of cookies, at seven in the evening. I was officially a bakeaholic, possibly a workaholic, and I had no desire for a cure.

Having made too much, I forced myself to hang up the oven mitts and clean up. By the time I was done with that task, it was nearing my normal bedtime, but as I climbed into a pair of comfy pajamas, I realized I wasn’t tired.

Spending the last few days with Kennedy had increased my threshold for staying up late. If I lay down now, I’d be tossing and turning for hours.

With a plate of cookies on my lap and a glass of milk on the table, I picked up the phone and called Hope. “I’m home alone and I baked cookies,” I said the minute she answered.

“Are you taunting me with baked goods?”

“I’m telling you to take a night off and get fat with me. I made your favorite marshmallow brownies.” I dangled the proverbial carrot in front of her, knowing there was no way she could resist.

“You’re such a bitch,” she cursed. “Fine, whatever. Do I have to get dressed for this?”

“Nope. It’s a flannel-pajama-and-no-bra night.”

“Good, because when they say eighteen hours, they really mean five. Leave the door open for me.”

Within minutes, Hope was letting herself in and locking up behind her. When I looked up, I noticed her flushed cheeks and sweat-dappled forehead and frowned. “Did you run here?”

Walking into the kitchen, I heard her open the cupboard and fill a glass with ice. Water flowed from the tap next. “Well, it started out as a leisurely walk, because, you know…brownies.” She flopped down on the couch beside me, struggling to catch her breath.

“And then you decided to run to shave off some extra calories?” I guessed.

“With these boobs unrestrained?”

“Then what? You’re all out of breath and gross.” I inched back, feigning disgust. In reality, Hope was one of those lucky women who could run ten miles in the middle of summer and have that amazing mussed look all the guys go for.

“Well, I started walking, and then out of nowhere, this dog just shoots out from behind a bush and starts barking at me. And I’m all like, what? You got beef? But I guess that was the wrong thing to say because next thing I know I’m running for my life. I’m telling you, if this happened ten pounds ago, I wouldn’t be sitting here to talk about it.”

My eyes widened. “Jesus, Hope. You seriously were almost attacked? Is he still out there? Should we call the police?” I got up to look out the window to see if I could see the dog anywhere, but it was too dark to tell.

“Nah, I’m sure he went home already. He had tags and I honestly don’t even know if he followed me all the way here. My screaming pretty much drowned out everything else.”

Disturbed, I sat back down. “So you’re okay? You still have all your fingers and toes?”

Lifting her arms and legs out in front of her, she wiggled the appendages in question. “Everything is still intact. Now, where’re the brownies and what movie are we watching?”

Venturing into the kitchen, I returned with two trays filled with treats. Hope’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the sight of them. “You. Are. A goddess. Gimme!” She was two brownies and half of my glass of milk in when she finally took a breath and slowed down.

“I was thinking horror, but since you almost died tonight, maybe we should do rom/com instead?” I asked, flipping through the Netflix selections.

“No, no, horror is good. I’m going to need the extra punch of adrenalin to get me through this pile of sugar alive.”

I chuckled as I combed through the horror category. “Doom?”

“I’ve seen it twice, and ‘The Rock’ dies both times. It depresses me.”

“O-kay. How about Amityville then?” Old school horror never failed to deliver.

“Ew, demons. What else do you have?”

Huffing impatiently, I rattled off several more options with each one being rejected for one reason or another. “What about Lady in White? There’s no way you have anything against that. It’s a classic.”

Biting into another chocolate square, Hope chewed thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay.”

“Really? So it’s a go?” Was it too much to hope that she had finally settled on something? We’d already burned over half an hour trying to find something we could both agree on, and I was ready to throw in the towel and send her home.

“Really. I haven’t seen this one yet.”

That was all I needed to know. Pressin
g
PLA
Y
, I sat back and dug into my plate of cookies just as the screen turned brighter than the sun. Even though I had seen the movie more than a dozen times, I was glued to the screen. When Frankie sat on that closet shelf, terror gripping him, I was right there with him. And beside me, Hope was gripping my forearm.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, as the door to the closet burst open on screen.

She jumped, letting out a mouse-sized squeak. “On a scale of one to ten, how scary does this movie get, because I’m seriously about to shit my pants.”

I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. “Calm down, spaz. This is a sweet, lighthearted kind of scary. Just enough to get the blood pumping. Focus on the mystery.”

“What number?” she screeched, hiding her face in my arm as Frankie was snatched down from his perch.

“Three,” I blurted, just throwing a number out there to appease her. I had watched the movie so many times, that I didn’t think I was the best person to ask. The first time I watched it, it was an easy ten. Now, maybe a one. But Hope and I were used to watching
Nightmare on Elm Street
and
Halloween
together and she never freaked out.
Lady in White
didn’t begin to compare. I was honestly shocked by her reaction.

“Three’s not bad.”

“Nope.”

“Children watch threes all the time.”

“Probably.” I had nothing to base that on, but anything to help lower her blood pressure was a bonus.

As the movie played out and the mystery began to unfold, Hope eased in and loosened her grip. By the time we reached the end, she was crying. “Why haven’t I watched this before?”

“Because you’re a loser,” I teased, handing her a tissue.

She socked me in the arm, and then stole a half-eaten cookie from my plate. “So where is your man? Boy’s night?”

“Work.” I sighed. Why the hell did I miss him so much? “He does that whole two days on, three days off deal.”

“So you don’t get to see each other for days at a time? That sucks. But you know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Was that what was happening to me? Was Kennedy’s absence making my heart feel things it normally wouldn’t had he been standing right in front of me? I thought about it, but with so little time already spent together, it was impossible to say for certain one way or the other.

“Now I know why you called me over. Are you missing your lover boy?” Hope asked in a sickly sweet baby-talk voice. I half expected her to pinch my cheeks, she was laying it on so thick.