they appealed to the romantic in you.’
‘But why would you think that? I thought they were perfectly nice and above-board.’
‘She doesn’t blink—at all—when she lies, and his eyes slide to the right. Trust me, they were playing you.’
‘Huh...’ Ellie wrinkled her nose. ‘Are you sure?’
Of course he was. He’d interviewed ten-year-olds with a better ability to lie. ‘So, what are you going to do?’
Ellie stood up and shrugged. ‘Make them their cake, of course. Let’s go.’
Of course she was. Jack sighed as he followed her to the back of the bakery. She was going to produce a stunning, complicated cake in five days and their guests would be impressed, not knowing how she’d juggled her schedule to fit it in.
‘I’m beginning to suspect you’re a glutton for punishment,’ Jack told Ellie as she pushed through the stable door leading to the back of the bakery. And a sucker too. But he kept that thought to himself.
She threw a look at him above her shoulder. ‘Maybe—but did you notice that they didn’t ask for a price?’
He hadn’t, actually.
‘And that order form they signed—at the bottom it states that there is a twenty-five per cent surcharge for rush jobs. Pure profit, Jack.’
Well, maybe not so much of a sucker.
Ellie walked over to a stainless steel table and tossed her sketchpad onto it. She scowled at the design they’d decided on. ‘There’s a standard surcharge for rush jobs,’ she admitted. ‘But I really don’t need the extra profit.’
‘And now you’re angry because they played you?’ Jack commented.
‘I was totally sucked in by Paula’s big blue eyes, the panic I saw on her face. Will played his part perfectly as well, trying to reassure her while looking at me with those help me eyes!’
‘They were good. Not great, but good.’
‘ Arrgh! I need the added pressure of making a wedding cake in five days like I need a hole in my head!’
‘So call them up and tell them you can’t do it,’ Jack suggested.
That would mean going back on her word, and she couldn’t do that. ‘I can’t. And, really, couldn’t you have given me a heads-up before I agreed to make their damn cake?’
Jack cocked his head. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know! You’re the one who is supposed to be so street-wise and dialed-in... Couldn’t you have whispered in my ear? Kicked my foot? Written me a damn note?’
Jack’s lips quirked. ‘My handwriting is shocking.’
‘It is not. I’ve seen your writing!’ Ellie shoved her hands into her hair. Her shoulders slumped. ‘Useless man.’
‘So I’ve been told.’ He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, his expression suddenly serious. ‘Sorry. It never occurred to me to interfere.’
She looked at him, leaning back against the wall, seemingly relaxed. But his eyes never stopped moving... He hadn’t said anything to her because he was an observer. He didn’t get involved in a situation; he just commentated on it after the fact. She couldn’t blame him. It was what he did. What journalists did.
She would have appreciated a heads-up, though. Dammit.
Ellie heard a high-pitched whistle and snapped her head up, immediately looking at the back section of the bakery, where the production area flowed into another room. Elias, one of her head bakers, stood at the wide entrance and jerked his head. Something in his body language had Ellie moving forward, and she reached her elderly staff member at the same time Jack did.
‘What’s wrong, Elias?’ Ellie asked when she reached him.
Ellie felt Jack’s hand on her lower back and was glad it was there.
Elias spoke in broken English and Ellie listened carefully. Before she had time to take in his words, never mind the implications, Jack was also demanding to know what the problem was.
‘One of the industrial mixers is only working at one speed and the other one has stopped altogether,’ she explained.
‘That’s not good,’ Jack said.
‘It’s a disaster!
‘But why would you think that? I thought they were perfectly nice and above-board.’
‘She doesn’t blink—at all—when she lies, and his eyes slide to the right. Trust me, they were playing you.’
‘Huh...’ Ellie wrinkled her nose. ‘Are you sure?’
Of course he was. He’d interviewed ten-year-olds with a better ability to lie. ‘So, what are you going to do?’
Ellie stood up and shrugged. ‘Make them their cake, of course. Let’s go.’
Of course she was. Jack sighed as he followed her to the back of the bakery. She was going to produce a stunning, complicated cake in five days and their guests would be impressed, not knowing how she’d juggled her schedule to fit it in.
‘I’m beginning to suspect you’re a glutton for punishment,’ Jack told Ellie as she pushed through the stable door leading to the back of the bakery. And a sucker too. But he kept that thought to himself.
She threw a look at him above her shoulder. ‘Maybe—but did you notice that they didn’t ask for a price?’
He hadn’t, actually.
‘And that order form they signed—at the bottom it states that there is a twenty-five per cent surcharge for rush jobs. Pure profit, Jack.’
Well, maybe not so much of a sucker.
Ellie walked over to a stainless steel table and tossed her sketchpad onto it. She scowled at the design they’d decided on. ‘There’s a standard surcharge for rush jobs,’ she admitted. ‘But I really don’t need the extra profit.’
‘And now you’re angry because they played you?’ Jack commented.
‘I was totally sucked in by Paula’s big blue eyes, the panic I saw on her face. Will played his part perfectly as well, trying to reassure her while looking at me with those help me eyes!’
‘They were good. Not great, but good.’
‘ Arrgh! I need the added pressure of making a wedding cake in five days like I need a hole in my head!’
‘So call them up and tell them you can’t do it,’ Jack suggested.
That would mean going back on her word, and she couldn’t do that. ‘I can’t. And, really, couldn’t you have given me a heads-up before I agreed to make their damn cake?’
Jack cocked his head. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know! You’re the one who is supposed to be so street-wise and dialed-in... Couldn’t you have whispered in my ear? Kicked my foot? Written me a damn note?’
Jack’s lips quirked. ‘My handwriting is shocking.’
‘It is not. I’ve seen your writing!’ Ellie shoved her hands into her hair. Her shoulders slumped. ‘Useless man.’
‘So I’ve been told.’ He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, his expression suddenly serious. ‘Sorry. It never occurred to me to interfere.’
She looked at him, leaning back against the wall, seemingly relaxed. But his eyes never stopped moving... He hadn’t said anything to her because he was an observer. He didn’t get involved in a situation; he just commentated on it after the fact. She couldn’t blame him. It was what he did. What journalists did.
She would have appreciated a heads-up, though. Dammit.
Ellie heard a high-pitched whistle and snapped her head up, immediately looking at the back section of the bakery, where the production area flowed into another room. Elias, one of her head bakers, stood at the wide entrance and jerked his head. Something in his body language had Ellie moving forward, and she reached her elderly staff member at the same time Jack did.
‘What’s wrong, Elias?’ Ellie asked when she reached him.
Ellie felt Jack’s hand on her lower back and was glad it was there.
Elias spoke in broken English and Ellie listened carefully. Before she had time to take in his words, never mind the implications, Jack was also demanding to know what the problem was.
‘One of the industrial mixers is only working at one speed and the other one has stopped altogether,’ she explained.
‘That’s not good,’ Jack said.
‘It’s a disaster!
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