Sweet On You

chapter Three



Marley walked into the unfinished kitchen of Daniela's West Coast operation and stopped in shock. "Daniela, are you baking?"

Her boss grunted, occupied by kneading dough on her special pastry counter.

Marley stared at the sight. Daniela hadn't baked in—well, she couldn't remember the last time, aside from the wedding cake she'd made for the owner of Grounds for Thought, with whom Daniela had bonded.

But there it was, right in front of her eyes: Daniela Rossi with her hands caked in flour and Sinatra crooning softly from the expensive sound system Marley had had installed per Daniela's instructions.

She looked at her boss, trying to figure out what had changed. Daniela wore a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, showing off her toned arms, which were partly credited to Pilates but mostly due to manipulating batter and dough. Her mass of dark curly hair was rolled and pinned on top of her head, a few short strands trailing loose. Her cheeks looked flushed, like she was feverish.

It was the look she got when she was determined.

A determined Daniela never bode well for Marley. It meant her job of wrangling the hot-headed pastry chef was going to be difficult.

But the fact that she was baking had to be a good sign.

Marley slowly backed out of the kitchen, careful not to make another peep. Daniela got extremely focused when she was cooking, and the slightest interruption set off fireworks that rivaled the Fourth of July.

Stepping over construction debris, she let herself out of the showroom, which wasn't completed yet because Daniela was dragging her feet, and went out the front door. She locked it and hurried to the house Daniela's brother had arranged for them to live in.

House was understating things. It was more like a mansion, especially for someone who'd grown up in Manhattan. Four stories on the edge of Laurel Heights, it was gaudy as hell, but that was Antonio Rossi's style. Daniela hated the house.

Marley loved it.

Not the whole house, per se, but the basement level that she'd taken over for herself, with Daniela's blessings. She had the entire floor, which included an office, a huge bedroom and sitting room, a bathroom fit for an emperor, a sauna, and a room entirely dedicated to her photography.

She called it her Batcave.

She had a separate entrance that led directly into it, and sometimes when she came back from taking photos at night, she imagined she'd been out fighting crime and was slinking back to her lair.

Her mother, a high-powered editor in New York, would have hated the basement. She'd have tried to light up every corner, complaining about how dreary it was. But then, her mother had never understood her—or even tried to. Marley had always been some foreign creature to her literary mom: a strange girl who loved to be in the shadows and had an obsession for comic books.

When Daniela had declared they were moving to San Francisco, Marley had been torn. The distance from her mother would be a blessing. The distance from the man she loved? Torture.

Not that Antonio Rossi knew she loved him. Or even that she existed, for that matter.

She unlocked the door to her Batcave and wound her way through the hallway to her office. Closing the door out of habit, she sat at her desk, blew a kiss to Batman who stared enigmatically from the print she'd hung on the wall, and took her iPhone out of her purse.

Tony answered the phone the way he always did, regardless of caller ID. "Rossi."

Every time Marley heard his voice or saw him walk into a room, she had a moment when she couldn't breathe. Struck completely speechless.

She knew it was ridiculous—she'd been around him in some form or another for seven years—but she couldn't help it. It wasn't that he was gorgeous, which he was. He had that "it" quality movie stars like Brad Pitt and Gerard Butler had, that made you just want to wrap yourself around them and ask them to take you.

Marley was so not the kind of woman anyone would take, especially Antonio Rossi. But, goodness, did she want to try.

"Marley?" he asked, concern in his voice. "Are you there?"

"Oh. Yes." She cleared the jittery nerves from her throat. "Daniela's baking."

Silence stretched on the other end of the line. Then he said, "Is she listening to music?"

"Frank Sinatra."

Tony heaved a sigh. "Thank God. Does this mean she's over whatever funk she's been in?"

"I don't know, but it seems promising," she said hopefully. "She hasn't baked anything except one wedding cake in months, and she's only baking bread."

"Bread?"

"A lot of it."

After a moment, he said, "Okay, it's a start. It's better than nothing. Listen, Marley, I need you to press her."

She blinked in surprise. "Press her on what?

"For one thing, finishing up the storefront. Renovation has been going on too long."

"Got it," she said, writing down a note. With Daniela baking again, it shouldn't be too difficult to get her to finally tie up all the loose ends with the remodel.

"Additionally, the Food Network wants her to do another show. They see her as the counterpart to Bourdain, traveling around the world, trying desserts. They like that she's like a more feisty Giada de Laurentiis."

That described Daniela a year ago, but her boss hadn't been feisty in months.

Unaware of her thoughts, Tony continued. "It's a fantastic opportunity. She needs to say yes."

"I'm not sure she will," Marley said hesitantly.

"Which is why I need you to press her."

She fell silent, feeling awkward. Daniela wasn't just her boss but her friend, too. Marley knew this was a good opportunity career-wise for Daniela, but was it what she really needed? Because she suspected what the woman really needed was a long stay in a luxury resort, to rest. "I don't know, Tony."

"It's the best thing for her," he said in his smooth voice. "She's been stuck in this rut for too long, and she's immobilized. She just needs to start moving again and she'll be okay. I have her best interests at heart."

She didn't doubt that. Tony and Daniela were enviably close. Marley had been an only child of a single parent, her dad having remarried and started a new family. She'd always wondered whether she and her mother might be closer if there'd been a buffer between them.

Tony was nothing if not an excellent salesman. He didn't disappoint her. He sensed her hesitation and eased in for the kill. "You're the closest one to her right now. You're the one to save her from herself, Marley."

She pictured herself in a cape and big boots. "I don't know."

"I have every confidence in you."

"Really?" She sat up proudly, bolstered by his praise.

"Definitely. You won't let me down."

She nodded. "I won't."

"Good." His tone softened. "You're the best, Marley."

She hung up, still glowing from his praise. Until she started thinking about telling Daniela about the new show.

Daniela was not going to be happy.

Marley whirled her chair around and looked balefully at Wonder Woman, who stood guard in a framed poster behind her. "I can't believe I let him schmooze me into agreeing."

Wonder Woman's expression seemed to say Really?

She sighed. "I know. Tony's my Kryptonite."

Wonder Woman looked cheerfully unsympathetic.

Marley shook her head and turned around. Next time, she was turning to Aquaman.