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protests now, the catch in her voice that meant she
was about to cry, the pink shading to red on her
squirming backside. He d work hard to ensure that
every square inch was stinging and sore. Then, he d
take her in his arms and lift her onto the counter.
No doubt she d complain it hurt to sit, but she
wouldn t complain long, not once he spread her
thighs. He swallowed hard. The sex would be
93
incredible, if their brief encounter was any
indication.
Her eyes, locking onto his, narrowed. Her chin
came up, as if she were spoiling for a fight. Her
hostility chased all sexy thoughts from his mind.
Good morning, Mr. Portsmouth. The ice in her
voice sent shivers down his back despite noontime
sun.
Ms. Korhonen, he nodded, determined to keep
his cool.
He spread the snowy white tablecloth,
positioning the enormous washtubs of ice so that
the vats of soup would remain cold. Next to them
he placed a warming tray for the spicy chicken
strips. Ricky surrounded the food with small cups
for soup-sampling, small plates for chicken-noshing,
and paper napkins, all in a brilliant green. Beautiful.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pale blue
tablecloth that matched the blouses of the two
women. He did have to admit that the cookies and
cakes looked delicious. And familiar, especially the
cake. Why was that?
He wondered about it, but not for long. Lines of
hungry pilgrims filled the area as everyone sought
all they could eat for the entrance price of ten
dollars. He had to send Ricky back to the storefront
in search of more tureens of soup, more chicken to
heat and eat. Glancing to his right, he noted that
Lena s business cards were disappearing as fast as
her cake and cookies were, and that she appeared
deep in conversation with two different people.
Jackson watched her write appointments in a book
with growing dismay. He d not landed one single job
or consultation, yet SweetKakes was racking them
up, one after another.
Alarms of pennilessness rang in his head. When
Ricky returned, Jackson sent him into the crowd
with a hundred business cards, hoping to entice
more people to visit his table and perhaps generate
appointments. It began to pay off he scheduled
94
two appointments for consultations. Unfortunately,
consultations were free and did not always lead to
paying gigs. SweetKakes, he noted sourly to
himself, seemed to be generating three contacts to
Yankee Elegance Catering s one.
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Chapter Eight
Hey, Mr. P, is it all right if I take a break now?
I ll do the rounds and spy on what everyone else is
serving, if you like, Ricky offered. Jackson had
never known his assistant to be so jumpy while
working.
What s up? Have you got a girlfriend waiting for
you? Jackson teased. Ricky s face flushed, but the
young man said nothing. He checked his watch
one-forty-five already. All right. But be back here
by two-thirty.
He watched, flabbergasted, as Ricky took the
hand of the red-haired pixie who was Lena s sister.
Entwined, the two young lovers sauntered off,
oblivious to the world around them. Great, just
great. Yankee Elegance Catering really needed an
employee whose girlfriend worked for his biggest
competitor. How could his life get any worse?
His question was answered by a whiff of familiar
perfume as he heard Elyse Woodcock speak.
Jackson, darling, how are you? Her gravelly
voice, similar to Lauren Bacall s or Kathleen
Turner s, came from behind him. Her fingernails
played lightly across his back, producing an
involuntary shudder. He turned, saying, Fine, Mrs.
Woodcock, only to choke on the last syllable of her
name.
She d outdone herself. Her bright coral-colored
tank top matched her nails and looked just as
painted on. Not to mention the white knit shorts
that showcased long, lean, tanned legs. Years ago,
such abbreviated shorts were called hot pants,
Jackson thought. The label was more than
appropriate for Elyse.
He goggled at the woman. Her outfit, her body,
and her boldness were nothing short of amazing.
She began closing in for the kill, and he had a hard
time standing his ground. She trailed the nail of her
index finger slowly down his shirted chest. Inwardly,
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he commanded himself not to react, but wondered
whether her finger would stop its downward descent
once it reached his belt.
It did. Jackson exhaled. He was as red-blooded
as the next male, but this woman bothered him just
a little. Not to mention that the genetic code he d
inherited from all his New England ancestors was
wired to despise public displays.
Jacksonnnnnn, she purred, You ve never
called me to arrange our, I mean, my affair. Have I
done something to displease you?
No, Mrs. Woodcock, I
Call me Elyse.
There went that damn fingernail of hers again,
only this time it was going down his back and not
stopping when it reached his belt. He bit his tongue
and thought of Antarctica. Damned if she wasn t
turning him hard as a rock.
Soooo, she breathed, Why no phone call? Is
something wrong?
Jackson looked around, desperate for a
distraction. He glimpsed Lena snickering behind her
hands. Women! He teetered on the brink of actually
pushing Elyse Woodcock out to arms length, when
a familiar voice rose above the crowd s buzz.
What have you got to feed a hungry man,
Jackie boy?
Bobby! he called, stepping aside so that Mrs.
Woodcock would see every inch of his bear-like
friend. I have someone I d like you to meet. Elyse
Woodcock, meet Bobby Hollingsworth. Bobby,
Elyse.
Bobby paused, smiling lazily, then offered his
meaty paw. Pleased to meet you, ma am, he said,
and as he and Elyse shook hands, Jackson noted
that Bobby s other hand rested on top of hers.
Elyse stepped in closer after inspecting his every
inch. Jackson s breathing returned to normal. She
wanted Bobby. He was off the hook.
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Bobby, I m so pleased to make your
acquaintance. Would you accompany me to the
lemonade stand? Oh! Excuse me while I pick up my
drink ticket. Elyse bent way over to retrieve the
ticket she d dropped accidentally-on-purpose,
leaving no doubt as to whether she was wearing
any panties at all. Bobby, eyeing her from the
spike-heeled strappy sandals she wore all the way
to her low-cut tank top, was ready once she stood
up.
Elyse, I have a little something with me that
will turn lemonade into a drink fit for adults.
Casually skimming his hand down her back to settle
on her shorts, he patted her bottom while the two
of them walked away. Jackson noted his friend s
free hand signaling the number three behind his
back, an old college trick of theirs. Bobby would
return by three. The crowd had thinned, so Jackson
had little to do. He was stuck next to a woman he
ached for, but couldn t have. He was frustrated and
angry and still wondering about the cake Lena was
serving.
And then it hit him. The cake. Mocha Coconut,
he thought. It had been over a year since he d
served it. He considered the recipe for the
distinctive, delicious cake his. Now this upstart was
stealing his business and using his cake recipe to do
it.
Hey, you, he growled.
Lena looked him over, sniffing. Are you talking
to me?
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