Spicy Seduction Read online

  A Spicy Seduction

  By

  Janet Lane Walters

  (C) Copyright by Janet Lane Walters, December 2013

  (C) Cover Art by Mariah LaMott, September 2013

  ISBN 978-1-60394-860-9

  Smashwords Edition

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  Jules Grayson sat behind the mahogany desk in his office. “Why me?” He propped his elbows on the leather desk pad.

  “Trust me,” Tony said.

  Jules stared at his friend. Trusting others wasn’t part of his personality. “Why can’t one of your other friends be best man at your wedding?”

  “They come in pairs. Lauren doesn’t want her friend to feel out of place. You’re the only bachelor left in our circle.”

  And he intended to stay that way for a long time. “So why do I have to meet her now? The rehearsal would suit me fine.”

  Tony grinned. “Trust me. You’ll like Grace.”

  Jules straightened. He used to know a girl named Grace. She’d been the only one who had turned him down. Just thinking about her brought memories of a time and place he didn’t want to remember. “I really don’t want to cross the river.”

  “Just for this weekend meet and two days for the wedding.” Tony rose. “What do you have against the village?”

  “Do you have to ask? The group home. Your father rescued me from false accusations.” Jules clenched the steel letter opener. “I’ll come. Some time on Saturday, do the meet and greet and leave Sunday morning.”

  Tony paused at the door. “There’s a plus. You won’t have to enter the village. My house is a couple of miles away.”

  “Go. Let me get some work done.”

  “Saturday.”

  “Yes.”

  Moments after Tony left Mrs. Jamison entered with a stack of mail. She dropped the pile on his desk. “Buzz when you need me.”

  “Will do.” He slit the top envelope and groaned. Not what he wanted to see. Before leaving for her honeymoon, Allie Blakefield, editor of Good Cookin’ Magazine had given him an assignment. Having contracts signed wasn’t his usual chore for the Good Magazine Group but he’d agreed. Allie wanted the owner of Cupcakes Sweet and Spicy to agree to a feature.

  With three letters and four phone calls the woman’s answer had been no. Allie returned Monday. Today was Friday.

  His hand hovered over the phone. A call wouldn’t work. He’d already tried several times. A visit to the bakery might do the trick. He didn’t want to go there. The bakery was in that place. He sucked in a breath. Never leave a job undone was his rule.

  When Allie asked, he’d figured obtaining the contract signature was a no-brainer. What bakery wouldn’t want to be featured in a national magazine? He’d had a failsafe plan. Mail the contract. Make a phone call or two. Answer questions. Contract signed. Hadn’t happened. Time to spread some charm.

  Jules buzzed Tony’s cell. The moment his friend answered, Jules’ gut clenched. Though he hated asking, he would. “Jules here.”

  “You are not backing out.”

  Jules chuckled. “You’re right. Just wondering if I could come tonight. Have some business for Good Cookin’ across the river today.”

  “No problem. I’ll call Lauren. What time?”

  “Around noon. I’ll drop my bag off, see to business and swing back.”

  “Good enough. TGIF. I’ll be home around three. Good luck with your whatever.”

  “Sales pitch.” Jules disconnected. He shoved two copies of the contract in his briefcase and tended to the rest of the mail. Nothing urgent. The clock chimed the half hour.

  With briefcase in hand he paused at his secretary’s desk. “I’ll be out of town until Monday. Buzz my cell if anything needs to be handled quickly and take the afternoon off.”

  “Will do.”

  Jules waved. When he thought of his destination his stomach churned.

  A half hour later he sat in the driver’s seat of his Jeep. He clutched the keys in his fist. Waves of nausea assaulted him. He gulped a breath. He could do this. Two events had forced the trip across the bridge to the Hudson River village where he’d grown up. The day ten years ago when he’d left he’d vowed never to return. Trouble comes in three. Not that business and a wedding were the problem. Trouble existed in memories of the place where his life had imploded.

  His weekender and briefcase sat on the passenger’s seat. He’d packed enough clothes for the weekend.

  You can do this. The words spiraled in an unending chain in his thoughts. He shoved the key in the ignition, revved the engine and drove from the underground garage. As the vehicle emerged into the light, Jules grinned. Something about being above the sedans and coupes made him feel powerful. He wove through traffic heading for the upper deck of the George Washington Bridge. Hard rock poured from the speakers.

  A glance at the sky showed gathering clouds. Snow predictions meant an early covering of white over city sidewalks and brown suburban lawns.

  Not long after hitting the Palisades Parkway the feeling of doom he’d pushed aside leaped into his thoughts like the demons kids feared lurked in the closet or under the bed.

  He gripped the wheel. The vehicle veered right. If he didn’t calm down he would run off the road or into another car. He spotted the turn-off for an overlook and pulled into the parking lot.

  Get a grip.

  Jules climbed down and walked to the railing at the edge. He stared at the gray waters of the Hudson. A blustery wind slapped his face. Across the river he saw the skyline of the city where he’d rather be.

  You can do this. The mantra rang in his head. He revised his plans. Drop case at Tony’s. Visit Bakery. Charm owner. Obtain signature. Today’s plan sounded right.

  He returned to the Jeep and soon entered the flow of traffic. After leaving the parkway he sped along the winding road and finally saw the turnoff to Tony’s house. As he reached the development he located his friend’s massive house. He pulled into the long driveway, grabbed the overnighter and strode to the door.

  Lauren answered the ring. She held her infant nephew on her hip. Jamie burbled.

  “Hello to you.” Jules stepped inside and kissed Lauren’s cheek. He ruffled Jamie’s hair. “I gather the man warned you.”

  “He did. Good to see you but you cost me ten dollars.”

  “How?”

  “Bet Tony you’d find a way to bail and here you are a day early.”

  Jules winked. “I’ve come to convince you to run away with me.”

  She laughed. “Just like those old rumors. When I think of the days in the group home, I cringe. I wonder how the Pattersons got the idea we were together.”

  “Pure invention ala Charlene.” He put a finger on her lips. “No talk about those times or places.”

  “Fine. I’ll show you to a guest room.”

  Jules hung his coat in the foyer closet and followed her past the living room to the wide staircase. Why had Tony bought such a large house? He’s asked his friend for a reason weeks ago.

  “For the kitchen. It’s a cook’s dream.”

  Lauren opened the door of a room just beyond the stairs. Jules dropped the bag at the foot of a massive four poster bed. Warm shades of brown and green gave a cozy feel to the space.

  “The bath is through this door and connects to a second guest room.” Lauren cracked the door. “Since you’re the only guest you won’t have to worry about locking the door,”

&
nbsp; Jules shook his head. “Just how many bedrooms are there?”

  Lauren laughed. Seven counting the master, nursery and the third floor suite.”

  “And baths?”

  Four on this floor. One in the suite. Two powder rooms on the first floor and one with a shower in the basement. Thank heavens there’s a cleaning service. Would take me a month just to vacuum and dust.”

  Jules followed her downstairs. “I need to do a bit of business for Good Cookin’. Means going to town.”

  “Five Cuisines?”

  “No. I’ll tell you at dinner. What time do we eat?”

  “Six thirty or so. Do you want lunch?”

  A lump filled his stomach. “I’ll grab something in the village.” Maybe when he finished at the bakery his appetite would return.

  She patted his arm. Had she sensed his uneasiness? “There are some great places. Want me to recommend one?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  He snagged his coat from the closet and left. Cupcakes, here I come.

  When he reached the village he saw Christmas had arrived. Probably between Halloween and Thanksgiving. The shops bore lights and festive decorations. The light poles were wound with red, green, gold and silver.

  He made a turn and found he’d driven down the street where the group homes were located. He gripped the wheel. His two years at the boy’s home had been a drag. Circumstances had made him a ward of the court. His attitude had brought him here.

  His stomach lurched. He slowed to a crawl and rolled past the pair of houses separated by a fence. This trip along memory lane had been a bad idea.

  You can’t go home but this had never been his,

  A stray bit slipped into focus. Grace two years younger than he was, pretty. He’d flirted with her and decided she would be his next conquest. With laughter she’d turned him down leaving him to fend off the girl he’d had no desire to screw.

  With a groan he turned the corner and looked for a parking space. His plan formed. Charm Ms. Sutton. Get her signature. Return to Tony’s.

  A flurry of snowflakes dotted the sidewalks with dark circles as they melted.

  * * * *

  Grace Sutton stared at the check Tony had left on his way to the city. She’d been so involved with setting up the shop for the day’s business she hadn’t had a chance to look at the amount. Her mouth gaped. She reached for the phone. Moments later she heard his voice.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  He laughed. “Not today.”

  “Your check.”

  “Is for the cupcake display.”

  “It’s too much. I gave you a fair quote.”

  “And you’re doing this at your busiest time. Consider this a bonus. Oh, Lauren said to use some of the money for new tires.”

  “I will.”

  “Soon, I hope. Are you sure you can’t make dinner and the play Saturday night?”

  “Too much to do here. Like figuring how all the holiday orders are going to be filled. I need a plan. Also choosing a selection for you to taste and the weekly books.”

  He chuckled. “See you Sunday. You and your plans. I’ve a friend who plans his time step by step, too. What do you do when the plan fails?”

  “Reassess.”

  She hung up and stared at the check. Enough to pay the suppliers next month and to consider hiring another baker, part-time for now. She jotted ideas for an ad.

  An idea occurred. Bonnie was interested in learning about the decorating. There were two girls at the home who might like to clerk Friday evenings and Saturdays. The money they earned would help them save for when they aged out.

  Pass the opportunity forward. She’d learned to cook at the home. The high school home EC teacher had encouraged her to try for the scholarship that had allowed her to attend culinary school.

  “Coffee’s ready.” Bonnie called.

  Grace left her office and joined her clerk. She filled a cup and sipped. “Perfect.”

  Bonnie pointed to the extra spaces in the display cases. “We need some refills.”

  Grace carried her coffee into her office. She donned gloves before opening the gleaming cooler. She handed Bonnie a tray of cinnamon bun cupcakes, so far the most steady seller. She carried a tray of Triple Chocolate into the shop. “How are the Candy Canes, Gingerbread House and Winter Snow holding out?”

  “We’re good there.”

  While they worked several customers arrived. Grace joined Bonnie in filling orders. When the rush ended Grace went to the kitchen and donned her baking gear. She mixed and poured, making several small batches of cupcakes she wanted for the tasting. She set the trays in the oven. Mingled aromas filled the air.

  Working automatically her thoughts drifted to the coming wedding. Though happy for Lauren, she felt a tad envious. She had dreamed of finding her own mate. Years ago she’d thought she’d found him but he’d disappointed her, just like her mother and the father she had never known.

  She’d been almost sixteen. He’d been two years older. Tall, dark hair and eyes. A handsome face. Labeled a bad boy she’d seen the sadness beneath his smoldering anger. She’d dreamed of him, invented fantasies until the day he’d climbed over the fence between the yards of the two group homes. He’d kissed her and told her what he wanted in very crude terms. She’d turned him down.

  He’d laughed. “Your loss.”

  “Not mine, yours.” She’d thought that then and still did.

  Grace stepped back. Other thoughts arose. Of drunken screams and laughter. Of her mother and her actions. Her hands fisted. She had vowed to be nothing like her mother but still she feared the seeds had been sown during her childhood.

  A buzzer sounded. Grace pulled on her long padded oven mitts and pulled pans of cupcakes from the oven and set them in the multi-tiered cooling rack. She filled more pans and started the cycle again. When the second batch cooled she entered the sales room. The number of empty spaces on the trays made her grin.

  I’m a success. Just in a small way. I hope nothing happens to explode my bubble.

  For a moment she thought about the offer from Good Cookin’ Magazine. She’d been tempted but afraid. Growing too fast might see her dreams rolling downhill like an avalanche.

  Bonnie grinned. “Been a good morning. Five more orders for the holidays.”

  Grace looked at the clock. “Go to lunch. I’ll handle the shop.”

  “Want me to bring you something?”

  “I brought a sandwich from home. I’ll eat when you return. This afternoon I plan to tackle the fruitcake recipe again.”

  “How many times have you tried?”

  “Maybe fifteen.” Grace pointed to the door. “Go.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Moments after the door closed behind Bonnie, the chimes announced a customer. Grace turned. Her hands clenched. What did Charlene want?

  The bleached blonde sauntered to the cases. “Good.”

  “What?”

  “You have a lot of cupcakes on display. Mama’s having some women over this afternoon. She wants some to give them.”

  Tension gripped Grace’s shoulders. “What about the dozen you took last night?”

  “The girls raided the pantry. Mama is so angry she’s going to punish them. I thought you could help keep them from that.”

  Charlene’s nasal voice made Grace’s stomach clench. She’d been lucky when she’d lived at the group home never to face punishment. Lauren had ended up doing the meticulous cleaning chores too often and usually because of Charlene’s lies.

  “What do you want?”

  “A dozen cupcakes.” Charlene tapped the class case with a blood-red fingernail. “You owe Mama for taking such good care of you. You really should make her a partner in the bakery.”

  Grace shook her head. Yes, she owed the Pattersons but she’d paid again and again. “Which ones?” She opened a box and filled it with Charlene’s selections. Once done, she watched the blonde sashay to the door.

  Grace dre
w a deep breath. She’d escaped her childhood terrors at the group home. She’d filed those nightmares in a mental storage box. Now she needed to discover how to escape her need to constantly repay the people who had helped her.

  Chapter Two

  Jules sat in the Jeep until the remnants of the day his life had imploded were gone. Why had he given into the urge to drive past the group home? Not one of his better ideas and certainly not part of his plan for the weekend. He had a contract to sell. Failure always tasted bitter. Coming to grips with the betrayals of his trust wasn’t among his plans for the day either. Hard work and trusting no one but himself had given him all he’d lost and more.

  Sometimes he wondered what had happened to the people who had lost money by investing in his father’s Ponzi scheme. Why had people invested in what had looked too good to be real? Were they fools or greedy?

  He’d been torn from a comfortable life. Shame oozed from hidden places. Why should tinges of guilt smear his life? He’d been a teenager and hadn’t done anything wrong. Shame had driven his parents to death and he’d ended up in that place.

  He gulped deep breaths of air and rubbed gloved hands in an attempt to warm them. This action failed to heat the part of him he feared would remain eternally chilled.

  Cut the crap. Can’t go back. Forward is the only direction.

  He’d come to the Hudson River village for two reasons. Business and a meet and greet. He wasn’t here to think of what had been or what could never be. Gnawing old bones impeded progress.

  Jules slid from the Jeep. He dragged the briefcase from the passenger’s seat. With quick steps he dashed across the street and paused to study the bakery shop windows. Cupcakes Sweet and Spicy. Above the first cupcake, honey dripped and a red pepper hovered over the second. He opened the door. Myriad scents swirled in the air. Spices, coffee, chocolate. The aroma of baking. For a moment he drowned in the delicious smells.

  The blonde behind the counter filled a box with an assortment of cupcakes for a customer. A second woman held a box in her hand. Moments later money exchanged hands and the middle-aged women walked to the door. Jules stepped aside.

  One of the women turned. “Bonnie, are you sure you have my order for Christmas Eve?”