“We were never together on the beach or anywhere else. But there’s no question it’s me in the photo, though there are a few inconsistencies.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s just say some of my anatomy was either augmented or mixed and matched with Dolly Parton’s.”
He boldly gazed at her chest and grinned. “I wasn’t going to mention it. But, yeah, I noticed the disparity. Like a lot.”
“Thanks.” She elbowed him in the shoulder.
He bobbed his head at the road. “You’re about to miss our exit.”
She jammed in front of a pickup towing a horse trailer just in the nick of time to make the turn. It had only been a few days since she’d last been here, but she’d already forgotten where the store was.
Recognizing that she was once again lost, Sawyer guided her to a public parking lot. They were just about to get out of the car when he remembered her hat and reached into the back seat to get it. He tucked her hair behind her ears and put the hat on her head, sweeping a few more locks under the rim. The sensation of his hands brushing against her skin did something odd to her insides. For a while they both sat there, holding each other’s gaze.
He bent forward, his eyes darkening as he stared at her lips. She moved closer until their mouths were just a whisper away from each other.
And then, just like that, he opened his passenger-side door and the moment was lost.
Neither one said anything as they hiked up the hill to Mill Street. But she thought about what it would’ve been like to feel the pull of Sawyer’s mouth on hers the whole way to the kitchen shop.
Right before they went inside the store, she adjusted her sunglasses and whispered, “Can you tell it’s me?”
“If anyone looks close enough, yeah, probably.” His eyes took a slow stroll over her breasts. “Then again—” She kicked him in the shin before he could say more.
She left him at the door and went in search of the ice cream makers, once again marveling at what a great store it was. Every bit as good as Williams Sonoma or Sur La Table.
On the second floor she found the appliance section and perused the ice cream machines. The store had everything, from the old-fashioned kinds that you cranked by hand to frozen custard machines. There was even a ChefAid one that made gelato, frozen yogurt, and ice cream.
Under different circumstances she would have simply called ChefAid and asked them to send her the machine. It was common practice in her profession. Nothing like a little product placement to move merchandise.
But for now, her show had been canceled. And at the rate things were going she would no longer be affiliated with ChefAid.
She read the features on the various boxes, trying to decide which one to choose. The Cuisinart appeared to have more bells and whistles then the ChefAid. Yet, she still felt loyal to the brand. Misguided, since they obviously had no loyalty to her.
Sawyer came up behind her, his lips grazing her ear, nearly knocking her hat off. “What did you find?” His breath felt warm against her cheek and his front pressed against her back, sending tremors down her spine.
“Uh…which one do you think?” she stammered. It had been a long time since a man had reduced her to a nervous schoolgirl. Even her voice had risen to a high pitch.
I am so not doing this with him.
She’d avoided dating and relationships at all costs. Too much disappointment involved. Men were either intimidated by her success or competitive with her because of it. She told herself her reaction to Sawyer was merely a symptom of loneliness. And…hot cowboy. Which was a whole new species of man in her world of chefs, television producers, and corporate tycoons.
“They all look the same to me. I’d say whichever one makes the most ice cream at one time.” His lips ticked up in the corners. It was obvious to Gina that he knew just how charming he was.
There was no question he had a healthy ego. And why shouldn’t he have one? Good looks, impressive job, a killer smile, and a drool-worthy set of abs. On top of that, he was part owner of a nice chunk of real estate. He was a fabulous catch by anyone’s standards.
The thing was Gina didn’t think Sawyer wanted to be caught; otherwise he wouldn’t still be single. In her experience, the emotionally available ones were always the first to get taken. All the rest had dated her at one time or another.
She’d grown so tired of putting herself out there that she’d focused on work instead of finding her one and only. Because he didn’t exist, she reminded herself and turned her attention back to ice cream makers.
She narrowed the offerings down to two, including the ChefAid, which delivered the most features. In the end, the ChefAid won out. Sawyer carried it to the cashier’s counter while she continued to browse. She’d never been much of a shopper—a passive-aggressive swipe at her mother, whose second home was Saks Fifth Avenue. But she could get lost in a kitchen or restaurant supply store for hours.
About twenty minutes later, with a basket full of crockery and gadgets she didn’t need, she found Sawyer in the barware section, talking with a middle-aged blonde who smiled up at him with obvious familiarity. Though she was dressed like one of Gina’s late mom’s friends—lots of gold jewelry, white designer capri pants, and a pair of Jimmy Choo sandals—she wasn’t a tourist up from the city. She appeared to know everyone working in the store.
Sawyer caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and silently signaled that she should stay away. Gina crossed the floor and took the stairs down to the lower level to hide out. It wasn’t a hardship because there was a clearance rack to explore.
She was immersed in theMoosewood Cookbookwhen Sawyer found her.
