Love Charm for Carlotta (A Short Story in the Love Charm Series) (6 page)

Some of the teenaged boys pressing in through the front door
were already muttering angrily. She would have to run back and forth from the
baking to help Maria up front. She hurried into the back to change her apron,
propped open the door so she'd hear the timer, and whispered to Maria that
she'd man the cash register if Maria could handle the customers at the tables.

"I'm sorry," Maria whispered, her face flushed and
her eyes downcast. "I can't keep up."

"Not your fault. And don't worry. Better too many
customers than too few."

A half-hour later, Carlotta was wondering if that were true.
A baby was screaming in the corner. A blond-haired,
botox
-embalmed
woman was berating Maria, and small twin boys were pushing each other into
everyone else in line.

The buzzer in the back sounded. Biting her lip, Carlotta
raced into the kitchen.

Damn. The batch of apple turnovers had burned. She resisted
the urge to throw the damaged goods against the wall.

Instead, she took a deep breath. And then another. As she
told herself she was done with self-defeating drama.

She placed another pan of turnovers in the oven, set the
timer, and picked up a tray of scones that had been cooling on the counter.
Pasting a smile on her face, she walked calmly back into the shop just as one
of the twin boys flung his box of juice at his brother. The box glanced off the
side of his brother's head and continued on its arc, to land in the lap of a
white-haired lady daintily sipping her morning tea.

Carlotta barely repressed a shriek. That white-haired lady
was Virginia Hasting, the doyenne of an old Martha's Vineyard family. She could
single-handedly ruin The Blue Cupcake.

A moment of silence spread across the little restaurant.
Until a deep voice boomed from the doorway.
"Goal!
I finally made it in the front door."

Carlotta's gaze flew across the bakery, to collide with the
sea-blue eyes of—

"Jace Burton!" one of the twins shrieked.
"Look, Sam!" He shoved his brother.

Carlotta dropped the tray of scones.

"That's right." Jace strode through the crowd that
melted before him. "Here to teach you boys how to behave when ladies are
present."

He grabbed each boy under one arm and turned back to the
door.

"Hey!" The red-haired woman who'd been standing
behind the twins looked up from her phone. "Those are my kids. You can't
walk off with them."

"I can't?" Jace eyed her coldly. "If you
think you finally have a minute to pay attention to your boys, you can come
with us."

Carlotta swayed on her feet. Two weeks of sleepless nights.
The stress of running the bakery almost single-handedly.
And
now this – her total humiliation witnessed by Jace Burton. Now he'd seen her at
her worst, with scones falling on the floor, the bakery in chaos, and customers
who were edgy and unhappy. Carlotta couldn't bear to think about what she might
look like with her hair tied up in an untidy ponytail, her face shiny with
sweat, and her clothes spotted with dough and frosting.

But she didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. She forced
herself to move, grabbed a handful of napkins and rushed over to Mrs. Hasting.

"I'm so sorry." She dabbed at the apple juice
staining Mrs.
Hasting's
pale blue
culotte
skirt. "Please let me dry clean your outfit for you."

Mrs. Hasting
rose
, her back as straight
as a spatula, her face calm with the self-assurance of the very rich.
"Someone should be sorry." She turned to glare at the front door,
where the entire line watched the show with interest.

Carlotta bit her lip. She couldn't offer excuses. Regardless
of what happened, she was responsible for the restaurant. Jace and the boys
were out of sight anyway.

Mrs. Hasting pivoted and pointed a manicured finger at
Carlotta.
"But not you.
Young lady, you are not
responsible for the poor behavior of those ruffians." She picked up her
gray clutch and tucked it under her arm.

"I—"

Mrs. Hasting held up a hand to stop her. "My husband
and I heard wonderful things about your bakery and we biked over this morning
from Edgartown. I'm happy to say that your cinnamon buns exceeded our most
hopeful expectations." She beckoned to her husband. "We shall return
next Saturday."

"Thank you." Carlotta wanted to sink to her knees
in gratitude. Among their many other ventures, the Hastings owned one of the
best restaurants in Edgartown. Their word was worth its weight in gold to her
bakery.

She refused Mr.
Hasting's
offer of
payment, and sent Maria over to the table, to collect the huge tip sitting
there.

Then she had to run back to the kitchen for the next batch
of turnovers. She glanced at her watch before picking up the tray. 9:00.
She
couldn't expect the rush to end until lunch was over.
Her back ached, her feet ached, and she'd just burned her hand.

But Mrs.
Hasting's
kind words
warmed her heart.

Until the buzzer went off again, and she
had to move.
She pulled out a tin of chocolate chip muffins. Good. They
were very popular. She set them out on a clean tray and forced herself back
through the doorway.

Jace was standing behind the cash register.

Carlotta froze, the brief glow she'd gotten from Mrs.
Hasting's
words evaporating like steam from a cooling
muffin. What was the man doing now?

She glanced over to see Maria scurrying from table to table,
and noticed that the crowd was beaming.

Had he waved a magic wand?

"Step right up!" he called out. He grabbed one of
the chocolate chip muffins and took a big bite. "Fantastic!" he
yelled.
"Better than a hat trick.
Get '
em
while they're hot out of the oven."

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You can't
just waltz in and take over."

He glanced down at her, his eyes amused. "You're
complaining? You need help."

"I don't want you in my life."

His eyes darkened, but he turned his head to address the
next customer. "Hey, Beau, how the
hell've
you
been?"

Carlotta realized she was still holding the tray of muffins.
The line was still out the door, and she had a business to run. How stupid to
be arguing with Jace right now. She began to transfer the muffins to the
counter display, determined to ignore Jace completely.

"Miss Klinger," he called out.

Carlotta stared as the tiny lady who'd taught them English
their senior year moved up from the doorway. "No need to wait in line,
Miss K," Jace said. "I've got your order right here."

Miss Klinger tottered up to the counter. "Haven't
changed a bit, have you, Jace Burton?" But her smile was shy, now that he
was a celebrity. Why had she seemed so fierce in high school?

Jace leaned down. "What do you want?" he said in a
whisper.

"One apple turnover," she replied.

Carlotta's heart clenched. How lonely was that?

"Here you go." Jace stuffed three turnovers in a
bag.

"I ordered one," Miss Klinger said, with a bit of
that high school teacher command in her voice.

Jace leaned over the counter again. "I'm counting on
you holding the other two for me and Carlotta. There won't be any left by the
time the bakery closes today." He smiled at her. "Will you do that
for us? We'll stop by your house after the shop closes."

Carlotta was torn between annoyance, and a reluctant
admiration of
Jace's
generous spirit.

But annoyance got the upper hand when they finally closed
the shop at 3. The only thing she wanted to do was go home, strip off her dirty
clothes, and sink into a warm bath.

She paid Maria out of the till, and tried to pretend Jace
wasn't clearly waiting for her. But of course he had no intention of being
ignored.

He leaned sideways against the front of her shop as she
locked the door. "You haven't forgotten we're stopping off at Miss
Klinger's, have you? She only lives a couple blocks away."

Carlotta sighed. Exhaustion had drained her anger, but she
hadn't changed her mind about seeing Jace. "I really need to get home,
Jace."

"She's lonely, you know."

"We don't even know her!"

"We spent a year of our lives in her classroom. We're
not strangers."

Carlotta glared at him. "You think you're pretty
clever, don't you?"

 "Come on." Jace smiled down at her. "We
can afford to give a little of our time."

"Fine," she said, with a begrudging note she
wasn't proud of. "But then I am going home alone."

Jace tapped her nose. "I knew you'd do the right
thing," he said softly.

Damn. He made it so hard to be mad at him.

When the visit with Ms. Klinger was over, and Carlotta
learned that Jace had left his motorcycle at her house, fury bloomed within her
again. Would she never be rid of him? She simply couldn't tolerate his random
appearances in her life. He clearly had no idea how much he'd hurt her, and she
was never going to tell him. He didn't need any ego boosting, and she had her own
pride to guard.

"I asked Tom to give me a ride to the bakery,"
Jace explained, as they walked back to where her car was parked. "I wanted
to be able to drive home with you."

"Why?" What she really wanted to ask was
,
why can't you leave me alone? But she knew better than to
get involved in a discussion. She simply couldn't trust herself around him.

"I need to talk with you," he said.

"Can't we talk some other time?" She gestured to
herself. "I'd really like to clean up—"

"You look adorable."

"Jace," she said in a warning tone, as he moved
closer.

"I still have that fantasy about you in an apron."

He was close enough now that she could smell his hot and
cold scent.
Sex on ice.

She shivered.

"That was a mistake, last time you were here," she
said.

He grinned. "What was?"

"You know exactly what I mean." She walked around
to the driver's side of her car, and looked at him over the top of the car.
"And it's not going to happen again."

He held up a hand.
"Whatever you say,
Carlotta."

"Right," she snorted, rolling her eyes.

Jace dropped his hand to the door handle. "Let's
go."

Huffing out a sigh, she opened the car and got in. She
couldn't leave him stranded. Of course, he was counting on that, which only
annoyed her more. She didn't like being manipulated.

She maintained a frosty silence on the way home, which
didn't seem to bother Jace at all.

When she stopped her car next to
Jace's
bike, she had to make an effort not to stare at it. It gleamed in the clear
sunlight, a dark beast whose very shape was designed to make it look like it
pulsed with power, even when at rest. Its siren call whispered to her.

Jace unfolded himself from her small car and walked over to
his motorcycle. A pang hit Carlotta, as she realized he'd taken her words to
heart, and was leaving.

But, rather than climbing on the bike, he opened the
carryall on the back and pulled out a thick file folder. What the heck was
that?

Jace hefted the folder. "Got some stuff I want to show
you."

Carlotta eyed him uncertainly. What was he trying to do now?
"Before you come in the house," she said, "I want you to know
that what we did last time you were here was—" She paused, looking for the
words that would be both accurate and believable. "It was for old-times'
sake." She held his gaze. "Not to be repeated."

Jace merely smiled and nodded toward her house. With a hand
at the back of her waist, he prodded her into action.

Annoyed at his silence, she added, "I'm sure you feel
the same."

"Nope."
Jace crowded
behind her as she reached the door. "I don't."

She pushed open the door, and entered her house. "I'm
not doing it again," she said firmly.

Jace followed her."I didn't come here for sex."

She stumbled, but caught herself immediately. His words rang
in her ears. He didn't want her anymore? "Then why are you here?" she
managed.

"I told you." Jace followed her down the hallway
to the kitchen. "I want to talk to you."

Carlotta dropped her bag on the kitchen table, and turned to
face him. And she knew she didn't have any self-discipline where Jace Burton
was concerned. His mere presence caused her body to quicken and soften in
readiness for him. From the day he'd asked for her virginity, and she'd granted
it, her body had belonged to him.

She'd managed to retrieve her heart when he left, or at
least she hoped she had, but her body still hummed in his presence like a
twanging guitar string. If he didn't leave soon, she knew exactly what would
happen.

"Okay," she said.
"Talk."
The sooner she let him say his piece, the sooner he'd leave.

Jace toed out a chair for her, pointed at it, and said,
"Sit."

He pulled out another chair for himself.

Carlotta wanted to remain standing just to thwart him, but
she was too tired. She sat down, propped her elbows on the table, and held her
face in her hands.

"Okay," she said. "I'm waiting."

Of course, he didn't sit, but remained standing, a tall hunk
of macho man, his blue eyes unusually grave. Carlotta shivered. His gaze alone
was enough to heat her.

When he walked slowly toward her, she had to resist the urge
to bolt.

He leaned over, still holding the folder, and pressed a kiss
to her lips, a tender kiss that spoke of something other than sex. Carlotta's
heart fluttered in question. What was he up to now? But before she could react,
he straightened, stepped away, and opened the folder. With a glance at her, he
thumped a stapled document down on the kitchen table. "I sold my condo in
Boston."