When he’d seen Amelie frowning on the edge of the dance floor at the Crawdad Hole, the protector in him had rallied and stepped up. Perhaps he’d sensed someone hurting from a similar loss. Or not.
Whatever it was, he’d been drawn to Amelie more than any other woman since Sandy.
Being with her when she’d discovered her life’s work in shambles had been eye-opening. She’d only allowed herself a few minutes of despair before she’d pulled herself together and gone right back to work.
She was strong and independent.
Amelie’s determination and can-do attitude had breathed new light and optimism into Maurice.
Working side by side with her over the long day had been the kick in the pants he’d needed to get on with his own life.
Then why had he backed off when she’d offered herself to him?
He sank back onto the sofa and closed his eyes. Perhaps, if he slept on it, he might have all the answers. As tired as he was, he sure as hell wasn’t coming up with any.
* * *
He must have fallen asleep sometime after midnight.
The sound of a door opening woke him in the dark hours of the morning. He leaped to his feet and assumed a ready stance, his gaze going to the door of her apartment.
“I’m sorry,” a soft voice said behind him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Maurice spun to face a fully dressed Amelie, silhouetted by the soft light coming from behind her. She’d pulled her dark hair back in a ponytail and wore jeans and a pastel pink T-shirt.
Maurice scrubbed a hand down his face, even more exhausted than when he’d lain down on the couch. “What time is it?”
“Three-thirty,” she responded and walked through the room without turning on a light. “I have to get the ovens going.”
“I’ll help,” he said.
“You should stay and sleep longer. I do this by myself all the time.”
“You haven’t had a break-in until the night before last,” he reminded her. “Give me a minute to get my shoes on. I’m coming with you.”
She nodded, went to her refrigerator in the corner of the kitchenette and pulled out a small tub of yogurt. “Can I interest you in yogurt?”
“No, thank you. I know it’s supposed to be good for you and all, but I never learned to like it.” He bent to pull his boots on one at a time, then stood. Maurice grabbed his T-shirt from where he’d dropped it on the end table and pulled it over his head. Less than awake, but determined to escort Amelie downstairs, Maurice walked toward the door and paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Now, when you get those eclairs baked, I’d be more than happy to take one off your hands. Ready?”
She walked up behind him. “Deal. And yes, I’m ready.”
He opened the door, stepped out onto the landing and glanced around at the dark shadows surrounding the building. Nothing moved. Before the butt-crack of dawn, who would be stupid enough to be out and about?
A baker on her way to get ready to open her doors for the early risers on their way to work—that’s who.
Once again, he had to admire her drive and determination to make her business a success. As she stepped out onto the landing, she turned to him with a smile. “One éclair seems a small price to pay for all your help.” She glanced up at him, her eyebrows rising. “Did you sleep well last night?”
He sure the hell hadn’t, but he wasn’t going to admit to it. “Yeah.”
She held his gaze a little longer, her lips curving. “Good. I worried you wouldn’t be comfortable.” She turned and started down the stairs, adding as if an afterthought, “…on the sofa.”
The sofa had been only a fraction of the problem leading to his sleep-inhibited night. Thoughts of making love to Amelie, possibly lying naked in the bed on the other side of her door, a few short feet away, had kept him awake. Add to that his survivor’s guilt and internal battle over whether he should or shouldn’t make a move on someone after his failure to protect his fiancée had led to her death. Yeah, his sleep had been doomed before he’d even closed his eyes.
As soon as they entered the bakery kitchen, Amelie made a beeline for the coffeemaker and started a fresh batch of fragrant brew.
Maurice thanked the gods for coffee. He stood close to the pot and inhaled the aroma as the magic elixir brewed.
Amelie went to work preheating ovens and pulling dough out of refrigerators. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the scent of coffee and baking bread.
