Once Amelie had her feet firmly beneath her, she forced foggy thoughts to coalesce into the tasks ahead.
“I need to bring all the supplies out of the van and place them on the countertops. I’ll separate the ingredients I’ll need for tomorrow morning’s breakfast crowd and store the rest.”
“If you think you’re up to it,” Maurice said, “I’m ready to get started.”
Amelie was far from ready. She needed a really good night’s rest to make up for the lack of sleep the night before. But if she wanted to get her baked goods prepared on time for the morning crowd, she had to make the impossible possible and get it all done before the clock struck nine—her version of Cinderella’s midnight.
“You have to be beyond tired,” Maurice said as he stepped back and let his arm drop to his side.
“I got a nap. You have to be dead on your feet,” she shot back at him, swaying a little without his strong arm supporting her.
“I’ve lost more sleep and still functioned,” Maurice admitted.
“I might not have performed in a high-intensity battle where lives were on the line, but I’ve done everything I could to get a wedding reception, complete with flowers, place cards, bar tenders and a five-course meal for the guests planned, prepared and presented in under thirty-six hours.” Amelie grimaced. “I do not in any way want to diminish the sacrifices of our American military, but I do understand stress, killer deadlines and making the deadline no matter what it takes.”
“Okay, then,” Maurice said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Give me two minutes to splash water on my face and freshen up. If I’m not out by then, come in with coffee and a cattle prod to get me moving.” She turned away and spun back. “Just kidding. I’ll be out in two minutes. No cattle prod required.”
“Thank God,” Maurice said. “I have a moral code that will not allow me to use a cattle prod on a woman, no matter how difficult she might be.”
“You own a cattle prod?” Amelie asked.
“Actually, I don’t,” Maurice said. “I’d never use one on another person. I wouldn’t even like to use it on cattle.”
“Good to know,” she said with a grin. “Doesn’t own a cattle prod and is empathetic toward animals.” She winked. “I’ll be right back.”
Maurice stepped back as Amelie closed her bedroom door.
For a long moment, she stared at the door, wanting to open it again and sink into his arms. He was all hard muscles and warm skin, sexy as hell and strong. He’d carried her all the way up the stairs to her apartment. She was no featherweight.
Two minutes. She had two minutes to get a grip, tamp down her wildly beating heart and get to work.
Amelie spun on her heels, hurried into her bathroom and splashed water on her face, hoping to cool the heat rushing through her body. She could still feel his hands on her thighs and behind her back and the hard plains of his chest against her cheek. She had to remind herself that he was there to protect her in case the vandal came back, not to satisfy her every naked fantasy.
At that thought, she splashed more water on her face. It was doing nothing to quench the fire coursing through her veins. She gave up, ran a brush through her tangled hair, pulled it back in a tight ponytail and secured it with a scrunchie at the back of her head.
After she straightened her blouse, she gave herself a glance in the mirror and shrugged. She didn’t have time to dab concealer on the dark shadows beneath her eyes or add a little color to her pale cheeks. Every day her business closed impacted the bottom line. That meant the difference between being able to pay for the supplies she’d just put on her credit card and the rent and utilities it took to keep the bakery doors open.
At exactly two minutes from the moment she’d closed her bedroom door, she opened it.
Her heart fluttered at the sight of Maurice standing at the window overlooking Main Street. His broad shoulders filled the room, making it seem much smaller than when she was there alone. Smaller and warmer. Or was she the one who was warmer?
Amelie shook herself, squared her shoulders and marched through the living area. “Ready?”
He turned with a smile that melted her knees. “Ready.” He held out his hand.
She automatically reached for his.
Instead of curling his fingers around hers, he laid a key in her palm. “Hang onto that. It’s the key to your new lock.”
She wrapped her finger around it, shocked at the pang of disappointment that made her chest tighten.
What had she expected? Just because a man had carried her up a set of stairs didn’t mean anything. He was just being nice.
Amelie shoved the key into the pocket of her jeans, pasted a smile on her face and started past Maurice.
He followed her to the door, opened it for her and waited on the landing outside for her to lock it with the new key.
