“Oh, I’m feisty as ever. How can I help residents of Chicago be better informed today?”
She and Yousef had worked together on and off over the years after they met as baby employees, her in her first months at Dynamic and him completing a newsroom internship at the local NBC affiliate. Since then, he’d landed a sweet producing gig at the city’s most-watched morning show, and he occasionally called her for help booking guests on specific topics.
“You can remind me of the name of that venue you used for that gala a few years ago.”
“As always, your attention to detail is impressive,” she deadpanned, casting her eyes toward the ceiling as she racked her brain for which event she’d planned that would’ve stuck with Yousef. “Are you thinking about the converted firehouse from the Susan G. Komen event last winter?”
“Yes! Do you have a contact there? I want to include it as a featured spot in our Chicago wedding special next week.”
She was already scrolling through her database. “Sure thing.” She found the name he wanted and rattled it off, but before they ended the call, she was struck with a thought. “Hey, this wedding special. Are you highlighting different vendors?”
“Yep. We’re doing a best-of-the-season roundup.”
“Including bakeries?”
“I mean, the cake’s only the best part of the wedding,” Yousef said.
She tapped a nail on her desk, briefly debating the ethics of using personal connections for her boyfriend. Then again, if she didn’t use her contacts to make Erik a success, what was she even doing here? “You got room for one more?”
* * *
Josie bither tongue as she walked past the decal-less van parked behind the restaurant. One disagreement at a time. Before she pushed through the back door, she fluffed her hair at the roots, trying to restore a little bounce at the end of the workday, and reviewed the arguments she’d organized in her head on the way over. She could do this.
Inside, she found her man holding a huge metal bowl, his massive forearms flexing and bunching as he worked a whisk. Her cheerful greeting died on her lips with a “Guh.”
He looked up, and his frown of concentration dissolved into a smile. The rest of the world might get a glower, but she got the teeth and the eye crinkles and the breathtaking beauty of his face when it lit up to greet her.
The thought sent a bolt of shyness racing through her. For some reason she was the one he allowed into his innermost world, and now that she was there, she was terrified of screwing up. Screwing up like she was potentially about to do.
He set the bowl down and beckoned her toward him.
“Isn’t this a health code violation?” she asked as he wrapped his huge hand around her neck.
“I don’t see the health inspector here.” He pulled her in for a kiss, his tongue sweeping across her lips until she opened her mouth to give him access, twining herself around him like a vine and only worrying for a split second that he might have flour on his apron that would get all over her silk blouse. He was worth a dry-cleaning bill.
When she pulled away, her eyes fell on the mixing bowl he’d set down. “Oooh, don’t move.” She grabbed the DSLR camera she kept stashed in the bakery kitchen and snapped a few shots of the batter-covered whisk resting against the side of the shiny bowl. “Perfect.”
“What’s with all the pictures? I thought the website was finished.” He picked up the bowl and resumed his task but kept his gaze on her as she worked. A few strands of hair had slipped from his elastic, and he looked every inch the rock-star baker she could market him as. She held up the camera and snapped a handful of shots, then tucked it away before he could object.
“It is. This is for a special project. You’ll see. And speaking of.” No time like the present. “I’ve got a lead on an amazing opportunity to get the word out about your new business.”
He grunted and maintained the pace of his whisking, which she took as a signal to continue.
“So I’ve got a friend who books segments forWake Up, Windy City!,and they’re planning a week’s worth of wedding content with a different topic every morning. One of those days is what’s on trend with wedding cakes this year. How do you feel about showcasing one of yours?”
He frowned and stopped to add a little sugar to the bowl before resuming his motions. Damn, no wonder he never got tired when he planted his forearms on either side of her head and stroked into her until they were both panting and out of their minds. Her cheeks colored at the memory of their particularly energetic session that morning, which had carried over into the shower until the hot water gave out. Butthat’snot why she was there. She shook off her sex trance, and when she did, she saw the smile had dropped off his face.
Of course. She was talking about television toErik, for God’s sake. She held up her hands soothingly. “You won’t be on-air or anything. The plan is for the host to talk to Darlene from Chez Bakes since that’s the most in-demand shop in town. They’ll just put up graphics with the bakery names for the rest of the cakes as they pan across. They actually had a full roster already, but I talked him into squeezing your cake onto the stage too.”
His whisking had slowed. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, so she rushed onward. “It’s win-win! You get to show off your cake and your bakery name, but you won’t have to come bail me out of jail for murdering every woman who sees you on TV and tries to steal you away.” More stoniness. “Because you won’tbeon TV.” Not even a flicker of facial-muscle movement. “Just your cake. On TV.”
So much for projecting breezy confidence to get him to agree. She’d trailed off like the dying whistle of a teapot taken off the heat.
He set the big metal bowl down with a clunk. “TV exposure is good.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t bother answering as he worked through the proposition on his own.
“And I don’t have to talk on camera,” he said slowly, still frowning.
