The Gingerbread Man (Sinful Sweets Book 1) Read online

  "Can I help you?" A blond man approached her from behind the counter, one of the tell-tale Gingerbread Man shirts peeking out from beneath his apron. He looked strangely familiar like a niggling thought of a remembered dream of someone she'd known in another life.

  This was the man she'd seen from a distance from the window of her shop. And he was cute. If only he weren't the enemy. Even underneath the crisp white apron and snug tee shirt, Celeste could see his fine physique. The breadth of his shoulders and the muscular build of his arms made her wonder what they would feel like wrapped around her.

  Oh my God. Get a date.

  Even better—

  Get a vibrator.

  The man was the enemy.

  Heat gathered in her face, and she was very glad that cartoon thought bubbles weren't a part of everyday life. The man was too smoking hot for words. His lips were soft and sensual, and the little crinkle in the corner of his eyes told her he wasn't a young untried kid. She guessed he was about thirty-five.

  So why did she have the impression she'd met him before?

  Huh.

  Celeste hesitated. On one hand, she didn't want to buy into their program, but on the other hand, she needed to size up the competition—and quickly. And she needed to get her mind off of Mr. Sexy Apron.

  "I'll take six of your cookie exchange offerings."

  The man beamed at her, his twinkling blue eyes jovial. "Absolutely. Which flavors did you have in mind?"

  Across the top of the glass pastry case, he handed her a laminated menu card complete with pictures and descriptions. His fingers brushed hers, and a warm tingle spread down her hand.

  Chapter Four

  Charles’ hand reverberated with the contact of her hand touching hers.

  Did she really not remember him? It had been a whole lot of years and he didn’t exactly look like the kid she knew in school, but still.

  He knew her the minute he saw her at the grocery store the day he got back into town. He started to call out to her when he caught sight of her in the produce section but after he’d recovered from his loss for words, she had already vanished into the store.

  Since then, he’d forced himself to think about the bakery. Weeks later and now here he was standing in front of her and she looked at him like she’d never seen him before in her life.

  “We have oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, Ghirardelli chocolate wafers with hazelnut mousse, mint brownies, cranberry orange bars, crispy chocolate wafers, peanut brittle, peppermint bark, peppermint fudge...just to name a few.”

  Focus. On the cookies. Not on wanting to hold her down while you see if she's got anything on under that sweater and jeans, and if her lips tast as good as they look.

  “I’m not sure.” Her teeth tugged on her lip and all of a sudden his jeans got a little too tight for comfort.

  “I could get you one of each and you could try them.”

  Alarm shot across her features. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I’m sure they’re expensive.”

  “It’s on the house.” God. He really had lost his mind. It was a good thing Cally was out of hearing distance.

  She tilted her head as if she were trying to size him up.

  “Do I know you? You seem so familiar.”

  “My sister and I have only just gotten back in town.” He conceded, reaching for a box. Grabbing one of each cookie without really looking at what he was doing, he laid them in the box, his gaze locked on hers.

  God, she looked exactly the same. Her eyes still radiated warmth and her hair was a luxurious mane he wanted to bury his fingers in.

  He’d almost succeeded all those years ago but he’d been too stupid to see a good thing for what it was worth. As for the friends he’d had in school…it was funny. These days he could barely remember their names.

  But Celeste had been branded in his memory.

  “Would you like to try one of our signature gingerbread cookies or cupcakes? The maple syrup glaze will knock your socks off.”

  “Ummm. Sure. I guess so. If you don’t mind.”

  He didn’t mind at all.

  “I can run some fresh ones over to you when they’re finished later.”

  “Sure.” She nodded.

  “Where do you want them delivered?” Did she live in the same house? He’d almost blurted it out but didn’t want to freak her out. Especially since she was looking at him like she’d never seen him in her life.

  But he was going to make her remember. Even if it took all season. He’d waited this long.

  Chapter Five

  He was going to deliver gingerbread to her. In addition to whatever box he was building for her behind the counter.

  "Wow." Celeste raised her eyes and fought the internal debate over whether he wore boxers, briefs, or nothing at all under those jeans. "You make all of these here?"

  “We do.”

  “That’s impressive.” She conceded, the smile that turned up her lips feeling traitorous but for some reason the warmth of his gaze made it seem like the right thing to do.

  God. She could fall into those eyes and never come out again. Before she could drown, she tore her eyes from his and stared unseeing at the card listing all the cookies in her hand.

  "You don't remember me, do you?"

  Celeste ripped her gaze from the card with the cookie descriptions.

  "What?"

  "You and I were in a few classes together in high school. I asked you to the prom, but you never answered me."

  Memories swirled in the back of Celeste's mind. It was him. She remembered it distinctly. The clique of football players standing there and him asking her to the prom. She’d known it had to be a joke. No way in hell was she going to be humiliated any more than she already was. As one of his friends snickered in the background, she bolted and ran back to the bakery. Her job gave her enough to do. What did she need with a boy complicating her life, even if it was Charles Meyer?

  This was him. Oh. My. God.

  She took a step back. "I do remember you." Celeste's lips curved up in a smile. "I haven't thought about school in forever. Did you guys move away? I haven't seen you around."

  And you're just as cute as you were then.

  Charles nodded. "Our parents moved us into the city and started up a bakery. We followed in their footsteps. Both of them are gone now, and we wanted to come back to a simpler life. Calypso is looking for a teaching job, but for now she's helping me keep things going."

  "Wow."

  "Yeah." Charles smiled. "It's nice to see you again. Especially after all this time. I should have stopped by to say something to you long before now. It's been so crazy with moving in and now the carnival. You have to take these. On the house."

  “Oh, I couldn't do that."

  "No. I insist. In the city we were known primarily for our gingerbread cookies. But here we’ve branched out into cakes, and several other things."

  Yeah, she thought with a jealous flicker. She’d noticed. And so had her customers.

  Celeste nibbled on her lip and let her gaze scroll down the list. It felt weird to even be here. Like her parents would be rolling in their grave weird. She should be back at her own shop rolling out dough for her own cookie exchanges. Or something.

  Except a good bit of her customer base was here, and she had to find out what was so exciting. The screens were cool. The gingerbread village in the window was completely amazing. And Charles was mega hot. But what about the food? Twinkling blue eyes aside, she was here on a mission.

  Chapter Six

  So she did remember him. That was something. Charles hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but as she stood there in front of him, his resolve to let her take her time weakened.

  “Here is a box of some of our most popular selections.”

  "Wonderful."

  Charles wrapped them up in bright colored paper and plastic wrap. With each new bundle of cellophane cheer, he tied a copy of the recipe and slipped all of them inside the box.

 
"Why do you do that?" She asked.

  He glanced up at her from his task. "Do what?"

  "Give out your recipes? How will you stay in business if people know how to make everything?"

  It was a valid question. He’d found the answer when his family’s bakery was at its boom time in the city. People had a connection to you if they had your recipe. They didn’t always make it at home, but would most often come back to the bakery to see what else was new or what they hadn’t yet tried.

  It was a win, win situation.

  But he knew from experience that not all businesses were under the same model.

  Calypso wanted to halt the practice when they moved here, but Charles had insisted. He’d printed up cards with recipes for every cookie and cake in the house.

  He’d even looked into getting a cookbook made for next Christmas. All the little flourishes added something to the place and he wanted to keep the unique style going.

  Online orders were starting to roll in and he had a line on a woman in town to start making gingerbread man quilts and dishtowels to go along with the bakery’s chosen theme.

  And he had been speaking with some of the largest distributors about making their bakery one of their preferred vendors.

  Now here he was talking to Celeste. Everything was working out better than he thought it would.

  He just had to win her over.

  “I love getting people to feel like they are part of the family. Recipes do that.”

  “But what if it’s off limits?”

  Ah here it was. Now they were getting someplace. He just had to make sure it was where he wanted it to go.

  Chapter Seven

  Charles smiled. "Like your family's strudel recipe?"

  "What?" Celeste's pulse hammered in her throat. That strudel recipe was a closely guarded secret. No one outside the family ever got close to it. Ever. Not even her friend, Grace, who helped keep things going when she was away. Like now.

  So why the hell did he mention it?

  "I've heard wonderful things from the customers about your strudel. I'd love to have a copy of the recipe sometime. From one baker to another, it helps if we stick together. I was hoping to get something started with you for the cookie exchange this season, but time got away from us, and then the carnival started." He handed her the festively wrapped cookies in an attractive red box shaped like a sled. "I hope you enjoy these."

  Celeste accepted them woodenly. He wanted her family recipe. That's what this whole ruse was about. What else did he want? He'd already stolen most of her customers, putting her livelihood at risk, and now he wanted her most prized possession, too?

  Anger burned as bright inside of her as the light from one of the holiday angels sitting on the tiny patch of lawn out front. She wanted to scream at him to take his stupid cookies and shove them where the sun didn't shine. His perfect smile mocked her, like he was completely oblivious to the war going on inside of her.

  And why the devil did he have to be so sexy standing there in that stupid apron? Why did he have to come back? Because for a second there she'd wanted him. Just like she did all those years ago, and she hated herself for it.

  Fuck.

  Celeste balled her hand into a fist.

  How dare he stand there like nothing was wrong? Like he didn't have a clue what he'd done to her?

  She lifted her chin and looked Charles in the eye.

  "You can keep them."

  The box slipped from her fingers, the brightly colored packages of cookies rolling onto the floor. Without a word, she turned and stalked away from the pastry case. The wintry screens provided a chill visual effect for the ice forming over her heart.

  Why had they moved back here? Why did they have to ruin the business her family had spent decades creating? They counted on the carnival to bring in the regulars and the tourists, and now with The Gingerbread Man place right on the parade route, no one even remembered that The Strudel House bakery existed.

  "Celeste!"

  She heard her name being called but chose to ignore it. Tears prickled against her eyelids, and she pushed her way through the doors and out into the chill winter air.

  Loud cheering met her ears as the parade-goers lined the small town’s sidewalks and watched the floats make their way down Main Street. Holiday music piped through speakers in the floats. Bright red and white poinsettias adorned the streets and displays. Any other time she would stay and watch, but now she needed to get out of there.

  It would be sensible to go back to the bakery, but she couldn't face Grace right now. There were some serious things she was going to have to consider, and if business stayed this slow, she was afraid of what might happen.

  The park. No one would be there now, during the parade.

  Celeste picked up the pace, wrapping the sweater around her tightly to fight off the chill. If she didn't get away from the sexy baker, she was going to say something she would regret.

  It didn’t take her long to span the distance, and soon she passed through the gates and headed for the path through the woods. It would calm her down until she could form a plan. Whatever that would be. Right now, she just needed to walk.

  Chapter Eight

  Charles watched her leave, the box of cookies crashing to the floor.

  Cold wind from outside whipped through the bakery as she tore through the doors and into the crowd of parade goers outside.

  “Good one, bro.” Calypso frowned at him as she came around the outside of the counter and started to pick up the box of shattered cookies.

  “I don’t want to hear about it.” He replied wearily.

  “Well, you’re going to.” Calypso stood, her eyes mutinous. “What did I tell you about moving back here? Celeste’s family has put everything into that place. And now, here we are taking what business the parade was going to give her.”

  “I’m not taking anything.”

  Calypso coughed. “Bullshit.”

  “I am not listening to this.” He pushed away from the counter and stormed back into the kitchen.

  “You will.” Cally appeared behind him, her eyes full of fire.

  “My love life is none of your business, little sister.”

  “Your love life?” Calypso gave an ugly laugh. “You don’t have one, unless I missed something pretty significant back there.”

  He glared at her, his lips tightening into a line.

  “You mooned after her in high school, but you were too much of a coward to be real without your jock buddies pulling the strings. She remembers that and so do I.”

  “Get off it, Cally.” He snarled, turning his back on her. Every word she said was true, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

  “You care about her?”

  “I wouldn’t have come back here if I didn’t.”

  “Fine.” Calypso grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “Then stop wasting time here. Get your ass out there and find her.”

  “I can’t lose her, Cally.” He whispered. “Not when I have a shot at making things right.”

  “I know.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “Now get out there and prove it to her.”

  Chapter Nine

  "Celeste!"

  Oh shit. He was following her.

  "Leave me alone," she snapped, stalking down the walkway that led into the nature sanctuary. Trees broke the bitter chill, and she found herself in a small alcove with a bench. The late afternoon was turning dark with the weather and the time change, but she was too mad to care.

  "I will not. You bailed on me once. You don't get to do it again." Charles trailed behind her, his eyes a veritable storm cloud. The apron was gone, leaving him in the gingerbread man tee shirt, a dark blue sweater with worn jeans, and brown work boots.

  Thunder rang out across the leaden sky, and the first drops of cold rain splashed against her face.

  God. How had he known she would come this way?

  “Are you stalking me?”

  “Hardly. If you gre
w up here, you went here to think. We all did.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Well, I’m leaving.”

  “Don’t walk away from me, Celeste. I came here to talk to you.”

  "Watch me. You come here and deliberately set up a bakery right down the street, wrecking my business, and have the nerve to get pissed when I walk out on you? Go to Hell." Celeste spun away and headed down the walkway.

  "Are you insane? It's starting to rain, and it's getting colder. Let's go inside and talk about this." Charles eyed the alcove and glanced up at the brooding weather.

  "Drop dead."

  Celeste walked faster, the pebbled path treacherous as the fat drops of water began to pour down in earnest. There was a greenhouse a little farther along the path to the lake. They grew poinsettias for the carnival.

  She blinked against the rain and wiped at her eyes. There. Ahead she could see the soft glow of the lights, and warmth.

  She picked up the pace, but her foot slipped, her ankle twisting as she fell sharply into the shells and pebbles on the trail.

  "Omfph!"

  The jagged shells bit into the skin of her hands, and pain throbbed in her ankle.

  "Are you okay?" Charles reached her, his eyebrows raised in concern, his jaw clenched tightly in irritation.

  "Just dandy, thanks."

  "Here."

  He wrapped his arms around Celeste and eased her to her feet. The warmth of him through the sweater made her lady bits come to attention. Her nipples pebbled against the thin shirt she wore. The damp sweater did little to stave off the chill. It was Charles. Unconsciously she leaned into him and sighed.

  "I can't believe how stubborn you are. I came out here to talk to you, not chase you into the woods."

  "Don't worry. You can help me to the greenhouse and walk away. Even better, you can leave town and take your bakery with you. We were doing just fine until you showed up."