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Authors: Alicia Roberts
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she ever agreed to share that suite with him? She’d grab her luggage tonight and move back to her smaller room. She was thankful she’d stopped that kiss in time.
Chapter Six
By the time Lea got back to the suite, it was late.
She’d gone out with her girlfriends for drinks after the dinner, and though she’d only had a couple of cocktails, she’d had a great time. It was only hours later, when they were all saying goodbye, that she realized she had no option but to sneak into the suite and grab her luggage. Hopefully, at this strange hour, Adam would be asleep.
She opened the door to the suite quietly, and was immediately assaulted by the smell of hot chocolate cake. Adam was sitting quietly at the dining table, doing something on his laptop, and the whole place reeked of a delicious bakery.
“What’s going on?”
The surprise was evident on her face, and she wondered if Adam looked a bit relieved to see her.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m baking a cake.”
She looked at him like he’d just sprouted horns. “You’re baking,” she repeated in disbelief, “A cake. At this hour.”
“Yep.”
He was busy working at something on his laptop, as he waited for the cake to be done, and barely glanced up at her. “Where’ve you been, by the way? It’s late.”
He sounded vaguely annoyed, and this pissed her off.
“It’s none of your business,” she said. “You’re not my mom.”
Adam cracked a thin smile and looked up at her again. “Do you want some cake?”
She shook her head in despair. If she’d thought Adam was strange, she’d been mistaken – he was extremely strange.
“Who bakes a cake in the presidential suite?” she wondered out loud. “Has that oven even been used before?”
His grin was wider now, and that posh accent made a re-appearance. “Why, my dear,” he said, “The President prefers to eat food prepared only by his personal, Michelin-starred chef.”
Lea bit back a smile and headed towards her luggage.
“Have a slice before you leave,” he said. “It’s almost done and it’s too large for me to finish.”
“Why’d you make it, then?”
“I like baking. Reminds me of my Gramps.”
“Oh.” The surprises never ceased. “So he baked?”
“All the time. And cooked and basted and roasted. He taught me that a man should know his way about the kitchen – if you’re gonna eat, eat well, was his motto.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Was he a chef?”
Now it was Adam’s turn to look surprised. “No. He just liked food. He was a school-teacher.”
“Oh, did he retire?”
“No.” Adam paused. “He died three years back.”
Lea felt like kicking herself for asking the wrong thing. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Adam smiled. “That’s ok. He had a long and happy life, and he got to see most of my success, so that makes me happy.”
“Were you two close?”
“He practically raised me. And he taught me how to make cakes – this one’s triple chocolate…”
Lea grinned. “Ah, what the hell. I love desserts.”
“Really? I thought maybe Park Avenue Princesses didn’t eat sugar or something.”
She refused to rise to the bait. “No way, I love my sugar. My cousin Mel’s a baker, she usually supplies me with my hit of pastries and cakes.”
She winked broadly, and Adam felt something stirring inside him. What was he doing with her so late at night, he chided himself. Why had he asked her to stay for cake? He must be an idiot.
He ignored the part of him which was scolding him and said instead, “Mel sounds cool, tell me more about her.”
Lea shook her head. “No, tell me more about your Gramps, what was he like?”
“Sure you want to know?”
She nodded, and he moved to the couch, and settled down opposite her. He hadn’t told anyone about his grandfather in a long time, and he actually enjoyed this chance to talk about him.
His grandfather had raised him because his mom had been a shitty parent. There was no
Chapter Six
By the time Lea got back to the suite, it was late.
She’d gone out with her girlfriends for drinks after the dinner, and though she’d only had a couple of cocktails, she’d had a great time. It was only hours later, when they were all saying goodbye, that she realized she had no option but to sneak into the suite and grab her luggage. Hopefully, at this strange hour, Adam would be asleep.
She opened the door to the suite quietly, and was immediately assaulted by the smell of hot chocolate cake. Adam was sitting quietly at the dining table, doing something on his laptop, and the whole place reeked of a delicious bakery.
“What’s going on?”
The surprise was evident on her face, and she wondered if Adam looked a bit relieved to see her.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m baking a cake.”
She looked at him like he’d just sprouted horns. “You’re baking,” she repeated in disbelief, “A cake. At this hour.”
“Yep.”
He was busy working at something on his laptop, as he waited for the cake to be done, and barely glanced up at her. “Where’ve you been, by the way? It’s late.”
He sounded vaguely annoyed, and this pissed her off.
“It’s none of your business,” she said. “You’re not my mom.”
Adam cracked a thin smile and looked up at her again. “Do you want some cake?”
She shook her head in despair. If she’d thought Adam was strange, she’d been mistaken – he was extremely strange.
“Who bakes a cake in the presidential suite?” she wondered out loud. “Has that oven even been used before?”
His grin was wider now, and that posh accent made a re-appearance. “Why, my dear,” he said, “The President prefers to eat food prepared only by his personal, Michelin-starred chef.”
Lea bit back a smile and headed towards her luggage.
“Have a slice before you leave,” he said. “It’s almost done and it’s too large for me to finish.”
“Why’d you make it, then?”
“I like baking. Reminds me of my Gramps.”
“Oh.” The surprises never ceased. “So he baked?”
“All the time. And cooked and basted and roasted. He taught me that a man should know his way about the kitchen – if you’re gonna eat, eat well, was his motto.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Was he a chef?”
Now it was Adam’s turn to look surprised. “No. He just liked food. He was a school-teacher.”
“Oh, did he retire?”
“No.” Adam paused. “He died three years back.”
Lea felt like kicking herself for asking the wrong thing. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Adam smiled. “That’s ok. He had a long and happy life, and he got to see most of my success, so that makes me happy.”
“Were you two close?”
“He practically raised me. And he taught me how to make cakes – this one’s triple chocolate…”
Lea grinned. “Ah, what the hell. I love desserts.”
“Really? I thought maybe Park Avenue Princesses didn’t eat sugar or something.”
She refused to rise to the bait. “No way, I love my sugar. My cousin Mel’s a baker, she usually supplies me with my hit of pastries and cakes.”
She winked broadly, and Adam felt something stirring inside him. What was he doing with her so late at night, he chided himself. Why had he asked her to stay for cake? He must be an idiot.
He ignored the part of him which was scolding him and said instead, “Mel sounds cool, tell me more about her.”
Lea shook her head. “No, tell me more about your Gramps, what was he like?”
“Sure you want to know?”
She nodded, and he moved to the couch, and settled down opposite her. He hadn’t told anyone about his grandfather in a long time, and he actually enjoyed this chance to talk about him.
His grandfather had raised him because his mom had been a shitty parent. There was no
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