Sweet On You

chapter Five



Sitting across the kitchen table, Marley watched her boss poke at the calculator and then scowl at the notepad in front of her. Daniela scribbled a couple things on the notepad and then glared at the calculator again, like it was offending her.

Very strange. Daniela usually avoided complex math like the plague. Anything beyond doubling a pound of flour taxed her.

"Do you need help?" Marley felt compelled to ask, even though it was her morning off.

"No," Daniela barked, jabbing at the old school machine.

"Because I'm happy to help." She lifted her coffee and sipped, leaning forward to get a better look at the notepad. There was a messy jumble of numbers that made no sense, plus a couple hearts doodled on the side.

The heart had a word inside them. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see the small print.

Daniela turned the notepad over with a slap. "You're being nosy."

"It's my job. I'm supposed to help you, even when you don't want it."

Her boss tossed her curly hair over her shoulder. "Sometimes your job sucks."

Tell her about it. Especially when her lovely but temperamental boss refused to discuss business with her.

"Especially when you have to deal with me in one of my moods," Daniela said as if hearing her thoughts. "I'm sorry I'm being witchy."

She shrugged, surprised by the apology. "I could do worse."

"Not since Kim Jong-il died." She flashed a saucy grin. Then she grew serious, leaning forward, her dark gaze searching. "Don't you ever dream of doing something more though?"

Marley blinked at the sudden seriousness, feeling like there was a layer to the question she wasn't getting. "What would I do?"

"I don't know. Be a party planner, or a stripper. Anything." Daniela waved flamboyantly. "A photographer. You do great pictures."

She sighed, feeling a longing deep in the pit of her stomach. She loved taking photos. Thinking about it made her fingers twitch with the desire to hold her camera.

Only it wasn't practical. Her mother, as a New York editor, had beaten it into her head that most "artists" don't ever make a living at what they do, regardless of their medium. To throw away a great job that took her all over the world and provided her stability would be insane.

But it'd have been so great.

She shook her head. "Why? Do you think of doing something other than baking?"

"That'd be crazy, wouldn't it?" Daniela replied thoughtfully.

"Speaking of baking"—Marley cleared her throat—"what happened to all the bread you baked?"

Her boss's face became mulish, as if she expected a fight and wasn't going to give an inch. "I gave it to people."

Damn. Daniela's cinnamon bread was to die for. "All of it?"

"It was my bread, to do with what I wanted."

"Are you going to bake more? For Christmas?"

"No." She shook her head, her hair a frenzy around her face. "Christmas is cancelled this year."

Marley gaped. "But you love Christmas."

"Not this year I don't." She stood up and gathered her things.

"You're leaving? But I still wanted to talk about Tony and the Food—"

"It's your morning off, and I have no desire to talk about my brother." Daniela gave her a flat look. Her arms burdened, she lifted her chin and marched out.

"Okay," Marley said weakly, watching her boss go. "I'll catch up with you later, then."

The lack of response was more an answer than anything.





Marley had one massive headache.

It was the Rossis’ fault—both Daniela and Tony's. Tony called her and berated her for not talking to Daniela yet, and Daniela refused to listen to any mention of her brother. It was enough to drive a girl to drink.

And she needed a shot of something strong really badly, and she knew exactly where to get it: Grounds for Thought, the bookstore café across the street from Daniela's shop. For most people, a shot meant alcohol. Marley's poison of choice was coffee, and Grounds for Thought had the best espresso she'd ever tasted.

Taking her wallet, she walked out of her Batcave and down the street. The house was located only four blocks away from the showroom. Anyone else might have thought Tony picked the house for convenience, but really he'd picked it because a commute took away from productive time.

Marley walked briskly back into the heart of Laurel Heights, straight to Grounds for Thought. Her focus was on her shot of espresso, so she didn't notice anyone coming out of the coffeehouse until a man loomed directly in front of her.

A very large man. He had intense dark eyes and a body built like the Hulk, except he wasn't green.

But he was angry, based on the way he glared at her. She stood shock-still, caught like a bunny in a lion's path.

"Move," he growled.

With a squeak, she stepped out of his way. She watched him go to the door directly the to left of the café's entrance, leading to the apartments above. He deftly punched a code into the keypad next to the door and went inside when the buzzer sounded.

Rattled, she walked into the café and headed straight to the counter where Valentine Jones and Kristin, the barista, were chatting.

Kristin grinned at her. "Had a run in with the ogre of Laurel Heights, did you?"

"He's more like the Hulk," she murmured, sliding onto a stool.

"I'd like to hook him up with someone," Valentine said.

They both looked at Valentine, who sat primly on a stool.

"I'm a matchmaker, and it'd be good PR. If I can find a mate for him, I should be able to find one for anyone." Then she blinked and focused on Marley. "You."

Marley blinked. "Me?"

"Let me set you up." Valentine made a face. "Not that I'm saying you'd be good PR because you'd be hard to match up with anyone."

Kristin snorted.

They both looked at her.

The barista put her hands in the air. "I'm taken, lock, stock, and barrel. I'll leave you guys to your negotiation. Marley, an espresso?"

"A double." She needed it.

Valentine leaned in toward her after Kristin turned to pull the shot. "Have you seen her guy? Hot. Don't tell anyone this, but I couldn't have done better for her myself."

She didn't know Kristin's situation, or the guy she was apparently with, but Marley had a hard time picturing anyone hotter than Tony Rossi.

Kristin returned with the espresso, sliding it across the counter with a wink before going to take another patron's order.

Marley lifted the little cup as Valentine turned to her and said, "So, you."

She shook her head. "No."

"Please?" Valentine gave her puppy dog eyes. Marley figured Valentine couldn't be much younger than her, but she looked young. Maybe it was because she was so thin, but in her 50s homemaker dress and little sweater, she looked like she was playing dress-up.

But then, Marley shouldn't judge. She wore black like she was a backdrop for other people's lives, which was exactly what she was, now that she thought about it. She frowned.

"Just once," the woman was saying. "Go out on just one date and, if you don't like it, I'll never bother you again."

"No."

"Come on. What do you have to lose?"

"Well—" She stopped, stumped. "That's a really good question."

"I'll make it painless," Valentine said eagerly. "I promise. And you only have to go out on one date. Please, Marley. It'll be worth it."

She tried to think of a reason to turn her down, but she couldn't come up with a single one, so for the second time in one day she found herself agreeing to do something she wasn't entirely convinced about. "Only one date."

Valentine squealed and threw her arms around her. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

Marley lifted her gaze and met Kristin's amused one. She sighed, already having second thoughts.