Wynn glanced at the platters, cake holders, and tiered trays—everything made of crystal, glass, or silver, a stark contrast to the gleaming black counters and creamy walls. Already, the crowd had nearly cleaned her out, making her glad she prepared extra pastries that morning. The increase in sales didn’t surprise her though. It was a direct reflection of the influx of holiday shoppers.
The door buzzed again, but this time, when Wynn glanced up, she froze. He paused in the doorway and flashed Wynn one of those weak-in-the-knees, killer grins. Behind her, Gemma sucked in a sharp breath before scurrying to her side.
“It’s him,” Gemma whispered to her. Her straight, black hair brushed the side of Wynn’s face. And as if Wynn’s eyes and her announcement weren’t enough, Gemma jabbed Wynn in the ribs for good measure.
It amazed her how alert and fast Gemma could move when truly motivated by a gorgeous piece of man flesh.
“I can’t stand the sexual tension anymore. You two have been drooling over each other for five years. Ask him out. Come on…” Gemma nudged her.
Turning, Wynn shot her a warning glare and rubbed her throbbing side. “No.”
“Don’t be such a wimp.”
“I’m not asking him out.” Wynn said, eyes wide.
“Ask him to grab a drink with you tonight. If you don’t, I will.”
Wynn narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t. Besides, I just broke up with Kevin.”
“You broke up with Mr. Pecker almost two months ago.” Gemma spoke through clenched teeth.
“What?” Wynn shook her head, her forehead scrunching in confusion. The shuffle of footsteps behind her and the jingle of keys signaled Zane’s approach. Tingles shot down Wynn’s neck to her arms. “Why are you calling him Mr. Pecker?” Her heart rate accelerated, making her feel lightheaded. Please God, don’t let him hear us whispering.
“I’m calling him Mr. Pecker because he’s a pecker head, and all he thinks about is his little pecker.”
The shuffle of feet and movement at the counter behind her stopped Wynn from replying. She snapped her gaping mouth shut and spun around. Zane stood in front of her, dashing as ever in his dark suit. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. “How are the Murphy sisters today?” he asked.
From the corner of her eye, Gemma’s idiotic smile widened—it was hard to miss with her Max Factor, ruby slipper lips. She loved it when he called them that—his little nickname for the inseparable duo.
Wynn wiped her sticky hands on her pink, Murphy’s Bakery apron, hoping to wipe away her nerves as well as the sugar. “We’re good. Busy.”
Another customer entered the store and got in line behind Zane, eyeing the display case of baked goods, but Zane didn’t seem to notice. His eyes zoned in on Wynn. “Not too busy I hope. What will your boyfriend think if you let this place keep you away from him?”
Wynn gave him a half smile. “What can I get for you? The usual?”
The sigh behind her, loud enough to be heard by all the shop patrons, signaled Gemma’s unhappiness at Wynn’s lame reply and abrupt change in conversation.
Zane’s smile faltered, but his blue eyes remained warm. “Yep. You know me…”
Wynn moved away from the counter and retrieved his black coffee then looked to Gemma for his piece of pie. Gemma crossed her arms in front of her chest, exaggerating each movement with an unwavering death stare plastered across her face. Her body language was clear. There was no way she was about to help Wynn since she flubbed up. Sighing, Wynn removed the pumpkin pie from the glass case and put the largest slice in a to-go container.
The rhythmic sound of Zane’s drumming fingers filled the silence, as she returned to the counter in front of him.
“You know, we’re throwing a Christmas party at work. We could use someone to make the desserts. I was wondering if you might be interested.”
Gemma, suddenly mobile, stepped forward and interjected. “Of course we’re interested.”
Surprise registered on Zane’s face at Gemma’s abrupt intervention, but when he glanced over to Wynn, his face brightened. “Great. Do you still have my business card?”
Did she have his card? Wynn recalled the day, only one short week after opening, when Gemma convinced her to setup a mock contest for all of the local workers in the Pittsburgh area. All they had to do was drop their business card in the bowl, and they were entered to win a week worth of coffee. Zane came in mid-morning, his usual time, and after some prompting from Gemma, dropped his card in. The second the door closed and he was out of site, both Wynn and Gemma reached their hands into the bowl and snatched up the card. They read together with the zest and excitement of teenage girls, marveling at the perfection in the name Zane Anders.
Gemma bumped hips with Wynn, bringing her back to the present. “Yep. She still has it.”
The blue of Zane’s eyes lingered on Wynn a moment longer, before nodding and glancing at Gemma. “Great. It’s the twenty-third. Give me a call and we can discuss it.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.” Wynn handed him the piping hot cup of coffee along with the pie. “Can’t beat a good piece of pumpkin pie,” she said, as he handed her six dollars.
Zane smiled, meeting her gaze. “Nope, and once you find the best around, you can’t stop yourself from coming back for more. Everything else dulls in comparison.” He turned around, not bothering to wait for his change. A brief look over his shoulder and a nod towards the women accounted for his goodbye.
Once he was out of ear shot, a nearby Gemma, mocked her. “Can’t beat a good piece of pumpkin pie. Genius.”
Chapter 1
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