Bachelor at Her Bidding (Bachelor Auction Book 2) (18 page)

R
yan knew that
Rachel wasn’t going to forgive him – at least, not right now, and not easily.

How could he make her realize that he was serious and he’d meant every word he said?

The one thing he was really good at was his work. Maybe that was the way to her heart: wooing her by cake.

Or maybe that was just too cheesy and clichéd.

But he couldn’t think of any other way to show her his heart other than by doing what he did best. His passion. And maybe if he sent her a box of dessert every day, she’d realize just how serious he was. He could write her a message on the cake, or he could make something for her, the kind of exquisite creation he’d worked on in Paris, and write his message on a chocolate slate.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. So he called in to Copper Mountain Chocolates with a special request for Sage. “I need some dark chocolate – something I can temper myself.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going into competition with me, Ry?”

“Nothing like that.” He shook his head. “It’s personal.”

“Personal?”

“I’m trying to apologize to someone.”

“To Rachel, you mean,” she corrected.

Well, he should’ve guessed that the town would be talking about them. The fact that they still weren’t on good terms even after he’d turned up at her office with an armful of flowers made it obvious they’d had a fight. “Yes.”

Sage gestured to her chocolates. “These usually work for most apology purposes in Marietta.”

“And your salted caramels are on a par with those in any Parisian chocolate shop,” Ryan said, “but this needs to be a bit more personal. I need to prove that I’m not trying to buy my way back into her heart – that I’m putting the effort in and it means something to me. Which is why I need chocolate to temper.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Sage said.

And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to run the idea past someone female, see what her reaction was. “I’m going to apologize through cake,” he explained.

“Like that amazing
croquembouche
you made her for her birthday?”

“Something like that. I plan to make her a different cake every day until she forgives me. That’s why I need the chocolate – I want to make a dark chocolate slate to go with each cake and write a message on it in white chocolate.”

To his relief, she smiled. “I like your style, Ry. That’s a nice idea.”

“It’s not horribly cheesy?” he checked.

“You’re a pastry chef who trained in Paris. You’re showing her your heart in cake, much like I would in developing a chocolate for someone,” she said. “Let me know how it goes – and good luck with getting her to forgive you. Rachel’s nice. I think you two are good together.”

“We were, until I messed up,” he said wryly.

“Then you’d better make those cakes real showstoppers,” Sage said, and found him the chocolate he needed.

Back in his kitchen, Ryan tempered the chocolate. It was a while since he’d last done anything like this; he’d made the little chocolate “signatures” for the Parisian restaurant where he’d worked, making sheets of chocolate and then putting logos on them with an edible transfer sheet before cutting out perfect ovals. This would be easier because he wouldn’t have to mess about with the transfer sheet first.

He melted the chocolate, then poured two-thirds of it onto a marble slab and spread it thinly, scooping the chocolate back with a putty knife and respreading it until it was at the consistency he wanted before stirring it back into the remainder of the melted chocolate. Once he was happy with the texture, he spread it onto baking parchment in a thin, even layer, and cleaned up the kitchen until the chocolate had set enough for him to work with but not hard enough to crack. Then he cut it into neat labels and transferred all the labels to another sheet of baking parchment to finish firming up completely.

So far, so good.

But what kind of cake would win Rachel’s heart?

*

On Monday morning,
Rachel walked into her office. As usual, Shannon had left her mail neatly stacked on her desk.

But what Rachel hadn’t been expecting was the white box sitting in the middle of her blotter.

It looked like a cake box. But it wasn’t anyone’s birthday in the practice, so who had left it for her? A grateful patient, perhaps?

Curious, she opened the box to discover something that looked more like a work of art than a cake. She’d eaten éclairs before – pastry stuffed with cream and with chocolate glazing on the top that had usually run down the sides a little before setting. But this had glaze so perfect and with such sharp edges that it looked as if it had been painted on. It wasn’t chocolate, either; it was the color of fresh copper, topped with a sprinkle of something gold-colored.

She knew without having to ask who had sent it. Made it, she corrected herself mentally; there was only one person she knew who was capable of making something like this.

Not wanting her patients to overhear, she picked up the phone. “Shannon, can I have a quick word in my office, please?”

“Sure.” Within moments, the receptionist was at her door.

“Close the door, please,” Rachel said.

Shannon did so and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Rachel pointed to the box. “What do you know about this?”

“Ryan brought it in this morning first thing.” Shannon came closer and peeked into the open box. “Oh, my. That looks almost too good to eat.” She glanced at the silver cake-board. “And there’s a message for you on that label, by the look of it.”

I’m sorry I hurt you.

Written in neat white handwriting on what looked like a dark chocolate slab.

“Wow. I wish my boyfriend would apologize to me like that when we have a fight,” Shannon said.

“Ryan Henderson isn’t my boyfriend.” Not anymore.

“It’s still a nice way to apologize,” Shannon said. “Are you going to forgive him?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rachel said, feeling color heat her cheeks.

“I guess I’d better get back to the patients, then,” Shannon said.

“Thank you.” Rachel grabbed her phone and texted Ryan.
Thank you for the cake. It looks beautiful.

He replied swiftly.
It’s a salted caramel éclair filled with caramel mascarpone and topped with praline.

He was giving her tasting notes? She couldn’t help smiling. Even though this was clearly meant as an apology, Ryan couldn’t resist talking about food. The kind of food he really ought to be making – food that was practically art.

She resisted the éclair until her mid-morning break. But when she tasted it she almost moaned in pleasure. Lily Taylor had been right when she’d said that Ryan Henderson made food that was better than sex. This was amazing.

But a cake couldn’t make things better between them. Even if it had been a nice gesture.

All the same, she ended up talking to her sister about it that night.

“A message by cake. Art you can eat. That’s cute,” Susie said. “Did it taste good?”

“Amazing.”

“Did you at least take a picture of it?”

“No – I wish I had, now,” Rachel said.

“He clearly feels bad about what happened between you,” Susie said. “And he’s a nice guy, Rach. He just did something stupid. Give him a break.”

“I can’t,” Rachel said.

Susie sighed. “You’re being stubborn. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“I know.” But she couldn’t help the way she felt.

*

Tuesday morning saw
another box on Rachel’s desk. This time, it looked like some kind of cheesecake, except it was a perfect rectangle and every layer was in a perfect straight line without even the slightest wobble. The top had a pale yellow glaze, and there was a decoration of candied pineapple and angelica which made it look as if half a tiny pineapple was resting on one corner. The attention to detail was amazing; this time, Rachel took a photograph of the cake on her phone and sent it to her sister.

And then she texted Ryan.
Thank you for the cake.

Tropical cheesecake. The bottom is a coconut crust, the next layer is mango confit, and then passion fruit cheesecake. The glaze is pineapple.

He could have been writing an entry on a menu in a very exclusive, very upmarket pastry shop in the city.

And maybe, she thought, that was what he’d do in the future. Maybe he was testing out his menu on her.

Except this cake also had a label with a message.
I was an idiot.

Yup.

Her phone beeped with a message from Susie.
That’s amazing. Have sent pic to the girls. We think you should forgive him.

No,
Rachel texted back. She wasn’t ready.

*

Ryan continued his
campaign on Wednesday with something she’d never seen before – a large cream puff with a smaller cream puff on the top to make it look almost like a snowman, except there was pale purple glazing on the cream puffs and a collar of cream dusted with gold around the snowman’s neck.

Thank you for the snowman
, she texted.

Not snowman. It’s a
religieuse, came the reply.

Religieuse?

Originally in Paris these were made with dark chocolate glaze, so the cake looked like a nun wearing a habit. That’s why it’s called a
religieuse
, after the French word for a nun. This one has violet-flavored crème and glaze, with blueberries in the middle and candied violets on the top.

It’s pretty
, she texted back.
And it tastes good
. Like nothing she’d ever tasted before, but the violets reminded her of a spring morning in Montana.

As before, there was a message on a chocolate label.
Of course you wouldn’t want me to dump my family. I know family’s important to you, too.

Hmm. Well, she was glad he realized that now.

*

On Thursday, there
was no box on Rachel’s desk when she went to work.

Obviously he’d given up.

And she was shocked to realize that she actually felt disappointed.

Not that she had any intention of admitting that to her sisters and their friends when they met up at Susie’s house that evening.