Jeweled Dreams (Diamond Knot Dreams Book 2) Read online

“I’ll fetch him.” Jodi offered a spunky little wink, one she’d probably practiced on occasion in the bathroom mirror. “And, just for the record, I don’t think you’ll mind the interruption to your work here one tiny bit. Ryan Kendrick…well, let’s just say he’s awfully easy on the eyes and he’s not here for a bridal appointment—if you get my drift. I mean, he’s not with a fiancé or anything. He’s—”

  “Yes, I get your drift, Jodi, and thanks for the four-one-one.” Claire placed the final fondant bow on the wedding cake and added a trio of sugar flowers set off to one side along the top affording ample space for bride and groom statuettes to be added upon delivery and set-up.

  “But I’m not looking for a romantic relationship at this point in my life. I have too much on my plate, literally, here at Diamond Knot Dreams. And besides…”

  Claire let the words trail off. How was she supposed to explain the fiasco with Dan to Jodi, and why would she even bother to try? The entire debacle was in the past—though not far enough behind her that the memory of Dan’s acerbic words didn’t occasionally resurface to sting like a paper cut that hasn’t fully healed.

  “You’re way too serious for me, Claire. You need to loosen up…have a little fun. Your non-stop work ethic and holier-than-thou morals are a real relationship-killer. Can’t you ever just let loose and embrace a bit of excitement or adventure?”

  Dan’s idea of fun, excitement, and adventures didn’t seem to match hers and so, it became a losing battle of wills. In the end, Claire grew weary of the fight. Dan had beaten her to the proverbial punch, breaking off the relationship before she had the chance. Sure, his rejection stung a bit—more than Claire would care to admit—but ending things now was infinitely better than the caustic alternative of making a life-changing mistake with a man who had proven he’d never fully respect her.

  “He was a jerk,” Jodi said simply, as if reading Claire’s mind. “And you deserve better than Dan Maldorf could have ever offered. We all do.” She shook her head emphatically. “So, I’ll send in Mr. Tall, Blond, and Scrumptious. Who knows…?”

  “Good grief, but you’re incorrigible.” Claire had to laugh, though, as she spied the tray of lemon blackberry mini tarts, settled like waiting soldiers all in a row on the cooling rack. “You wouldn’t happen to want to sample one of these little beauties, would you, and give me an idea of what needs to be changed…more lemon, less sugar, more blackberries or a dash more of vanilla extract?”

  “Of course I would.” Jodi eyed the confections with such a pitiful look of longing that it nearly broke Claire’s heart. “But they are definitely not on my list of diet foods, and I have to work on this freshman forty.” She patted her ample thighs to emphasize the point.

  “Yes, I know.” Jodi was now a junior, and those forty pounds seemed to be putting up a great resistance to her tactics. So, who was Claire to throw up a roadblock to her dieting plan? “It’s going to take some time, but you can do it.”

  “Thanks.” Jodi frowned as if she wanted to believe the vote of confidence, but wasn’t quite convinced. “It’s not easy. Cutting out sweets and walking three miles a day, rain or shine, may very well kill me, but I’m determined not to give up this time. Chocolate macaroons and fudge ripple ice cream will just have to wait.”

  “Yes, they will. You keep plowing ahead.” Claire patted her own belly, conscious of the fact that she’d missed her morning run. She’d have to make up for it on the treadmill tonight. “Anyway, maybe I just found my guinea pig.”

  “Your what?”

  “Never mind.” Claire moved to the sink and rinsed remnants of sticky-sweet sugar from her hands. She dried with a paper towel, then smoothed a hand through her hair and added a swipe of gloss to lips that had grown dry as crepe paper from a day spent bathed in the heat of the oven. “Just send in Mr. Kendrick.”

  “I will, but just to warn you, Ellie’s been a bit restless today.”

  “Ellie?”

  “Yes, our elusive friend that lurks in the attic. I call her Ellie, because it just seems to fit. She’s been a bit out of sorts today.”

  “How so?”

  “I was with a client when suddenly we both heard the music box playing from Lila’s office. And then something crashed along the landing near the attic stairs. After the client left, I went to investigate and I found these.” She drew a trio of rose petals from the back pocket of her khakis. “The entire attic smelled like roses, though there’s not so much as a bush or bouquet anywhere around there. I think Ellie placed them there. I know it sounds crazy, but…”

  “Yes, that’s impossible, Jodi.” Claire took the petals anyway, and held them to her nose. The scent was unmistakable and still quite strong. “Avery was rummaging around up there early this morning, looking through the boxes. She must have stumbled across these and dropped them.”

  “I suppose that’s plausible. But, after so many years, why would they still smell as if they fluttered off a bloom this morning?”

  “I have no idea. But you make a good point.”

  “Score one for me.” Jodi snatched the petals from Claire’s fingers, kept two and tucked the third into the pocket of Claire’s apron. “I’m telling you, Ellie’s restless. And you know what that leads to....”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Claire knew the tale. Both Lila and Avery had found true love upon entering—and working—at the Victorian. Modern lore chalked that up to some kind of spiritual meddling by the daughter of former owners, who, as legend had it, still pined for her lost love. But Claire was a pragmatist at heart, and she was having none of it. “Besides, even if there is the slightest hint of truth to the tale, I’m completely immune. I’ve had my fill of dating and broken promises for the foreseeable future.”

  “I’ve heard that tune before—from both Lila and Avery. And you know what happened to both of them.” She winked once more, and then turned on her heel with a mischievous grin that rankled.

  Claire stiffened her spine against any sort of unseen forces. She refused to fall, yet at the moment she felt slightly off-kilter. She slipped a hand into her apron pocket and touched the smooth layer of rose petal. The odd feeling had to be due to the long work day, nothing more. She was calorie deprived as well as dehydrated. She went to the refrigerator and found a bottle of water. One generous swallow, and the world seemed to right itself once again. “There…that’s better.”

  “Sure, it is. Now, I’m going to fetch Mr. Kendrick. You might want to take another sip or two of that water before I send him back.”

  Jodi retreated into the foyer. A flurry of murmurs ensued, and then heavy footsteps sounded along the length of hallway outside the small kitchen.

  “Excuse me? I’m Ryan Kendrick.” The male voice carried the now-familiar southern drawl.

  Claire lifted her gaze to find that Jodi’s description of Ryan Kendrick was right on the mark. He stood tall, blond, and lanky in a muscular sort of way. His blue-gray eyes mirrored an afternoon autumn sky while his easy smile drew her in and held tight as sugar glue. Her insides melted and swirled like warm butter in a bowl of mashed potatoes. She raised the water bottle to her lips and drained it dry, hoping her tongue would untie itself.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” Ryan continued when she failed to speak. “I called earlier…about the office space?”

  “Umm…” Claire’s thoughts suddenly went mushy as watered-down grits. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m Claire McLaughlin. Would you like to be my guinea pig?”

  ****

  “Would I like to be your what?” Jason raked a hand through his hair.

  Claire headed toward the edge of the table and lifted what looked like a miniature slice of heaven from a baking tray. “Will you sample this for me…and tell me what you think?” She lifted what looked like a very small pie from the tray with a spatula, placed it on a napkin, and handed it to him. “It’s a lemon blackberry mini tart.”

  Jason drew his gaze from the sweet to study her. Her eyes were t
he darkest shade of blue, like the sea following a summer storm, and framed by wheat-blonde hair that spilled like a gentle waterfall to her shoulders. Though she might be considered petite, she was nicely-rounded in all the right places—even if the bubblegum pink, flour-dusted apron attempted to conceal those appealing curves.

  Because he couldn’t form a completely coherent thought, he pointed to the object in Claire’s hand.

  “Excuse me? What did you say that is?”

  “Just try it and give me your honest rating—one to ten. Don’t hold back. I can take any criticism you might dish out.”

  “Well, I’ll say it looks like a ten.” And so, in his humble and purely male opinion, did Claire. Never one to turn away any food laced with sugar—especially one that was obviously homemade—Ryan obliged. He took a generous bite and an explosion of flavor washed his taste buds in the most glorious way. A low moan escaped his lips as he finished it off. “That was easy. One hundred and ten.”

  “What?”

  “I rate your tiny piece of heaven one hundred and ten—one hundred for the food and ten for the service. That smattering of flour across one of your cheeks merely serves to add to your cuteness factor.”

  “Did you say cuteness?”

  “Uh huh. And that…”

  “Blueberry mini tart.”

  “Pure heaven.” Ryan lifted his fingers to his mouth and kissed the tips in Mama Mia fashion. “Beyond delicious.”

  “You really think so?” Claire scooted over to the fridge door, checking her reflection in the stainless steel. Frowning, she tore a paper towel from the roll over the sink and swiped the offending flour from her cheek before turning back to face him. Yes, she had the cuteness factor in spades. “Are you sure?”

  “Well, I could try another, just to be one hundred percent convinced.” He slanted his lips to form a playful smirk. “You know…quality control and all that.”

  “Of course.” Claire’s gaze narrowed slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “There are plenty, and they shouldn’t go to waste.”

  “I’m kidding.” Ryan caught her hand as she started to lift a second tart from the pan. “I don’t need a second helping to know they are perfect. Did you make them?”

  “I did.”

  “And that wedding cake?” He motioned to the three-tiered, sugar-infused beauty.

  “Yes, I made that as well.”

  “You’ve got quite a gift.” Ryan rounded the table, eyeing the cake with admiration. “And if those tarts are any indication, I’ll wager the cake tastes just as good as it looks.”

  “I’d like to think so.” Claire took a large delivery box from the shelf, assembled it as if she could do so in her sleep, and set it on the table beside the cake. “And I hope Laura Dixon and her husband-to-be like it, as well. Do you mind if I package this before I show you the office space we discussed on the phone this morning?”

  “Not at all.” If it was up to Ryan, he’d watch her work all day. There was a unique energy, a cross between ballet and hip hop, in her movement. He leaned back against the counter and drank it all in. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

  But he’d text Caleb anyway, to say he might be just a little delayed picking him up. He didn’t want his stepbrother to worry. He drew his phone from his pocket and shot off the text without taking his eyes off of Claire.

  “In that case, I’ve got a few other confections that I’ve been working on—fudge-filled cupcakes, hand pies stuffed with strawberries and cream, raspberry lemon coconut panna cotta tarts—”

  “Excuse me? English, please.”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Claire’s light laughter fluttered like confetti as she crossed the kitchen and disappeared into a walk-in cooler. She exited a few moments later with a silver tray filled with a buffet of sweets suitable for heaven. She set the tray on the counter, crossed to a cabinet, and then returned to hand him a crystal dessert plate and a fork. “Go ahead…choose one of each.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Ryan made his selections. Each sample brought sheer delight as his taste buds did a lively tango. He lifted his gaze to connect with Claire’s. “You’re killing me.”

  “That’s certainly not my intention.”

  “Nonetheless…” Ryan finished off the treats, then set his plate and fork in the sink. “I’m your biggest fan.”

  “Well, I’m flattered.” She flashed a smile that arrowed straight to Ryan’s heart. “Thank you.”

  “No…thank you.”

  Claire turned her attention to the wedding cake seated on the table. “Would you mind to give me a hand with this so I don’t have to pull Jodi from the reception area? I think she’s with a client.”

  “Sure. It’s the least I can do.”

  “The tiers are over-sized—they’re made to serve a three-hundred-plus crowd—so the cake’s a bit heavy and unwieldy. It took more time to prepare than I anticipated, so toppling it just might catapult me into an epic crying jag.”

  “No worries, I’ve got your back.” Ryan stepped up to the table and nestled in beside her. Careful to follow her lead, he lifted a corner of the silver cardboard disc that the cake sat upon. Elevating the disc just an inch or so from a plastic stand that resembled a turnstile, he and Claire slipped the cake to the right and then gently lowered it into the box.

  “Mission accomplished.” Claire dusted her hands on her apron. The spicy floral scent of her perfume was an appealing contrast to the sugary-sweet aroma emanating from shelves of baking extracts. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. You don’t have to deliver it, do you?”

  “No. Lila has a dedicated crew for delivery and set-up, thank goodness.”

  “It looks like you’ve got some cleaning up to do.” Ryan surveyed the arsenal of baking sheets, spatulas, plastic bags filled with icing and all sorts of decorating paraphernalia. There was lots of other stuff, too…stuff that until now he had no idea existed and couldn’t possibly name to save his life. The closest to homemade cake he’d ever baked came out of a box. Toss in a few eggs, add some oil, and stir it all together before dumping it into a pan and cooking it until the room smells so good you can’t stand waiting another minute. Frosting was optional. “Would you like a hand with the clean-up, too?”

  Already, he was rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt and wondering where she stored clean aprons.

  Yeah, he had it bad.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll get to it later.” Claire unlaced her apron, balled it into a bundle, and tossed it into a basket in a closet off the kitchen. “You’ve been kind enough as it is.”

  When she turned back to face him he noticed that the baby-blue scoop-necked T-shirt she was wearing complemented her deep blue eyes and blonde hair. He’d never seen a woman quite as beautiful, flour-dusted and all. He wondered if her lips tasted like the powdered sugar she’d used to garnish the lemon blackberry tarts and figured he’d have to make it his mission to find out.

  Suddenly, he wanted to ask her out in the worst sort of way. “Claire…?”

  “Yes?” She crossed toward him, her perfume coming back into the range of his olfactory senses, and suddenly he stood tongue tied.

  He’d never been tongue tied in his life. He merely shook his head, dazed as a catfish caught in a net.

  Claire waited a moment, and then realizing he wasn’t going to speak, she offered, “I’d better show you that office space now. I’ve delayed you long enough.”

  Oh, but he wouldn’t mind to be delayed by her a bit longer. He jammed his hands deep into his pockets and cleared his throat, coaxing the return of his voice.

  “OK, then.”

  Ryan followed Claire from the kitchen, through the great room where Jodi was showing a client invitation samples on the desktop computer in the reception area, and up a sweeping staircase to the second floor. As they reached the landing, the scent of roses blossomed.

  “Oh, there’s Ellie,” Claire murmured. “Playing tric
ks again.”

  Mary Manners is an award-winning author who has spent a lifetime exploring her joy of writing. She has two sons and a daughter, as well as three beautiful grandchildren. She currently lives along the sunny shores of Jacksonville Beach with her husband Tim.

  A former teacher and intermediate school principal, Mary spent three decades sharing her love of learning. While growing up in Chicago Mary worked a variety of jobs including paper girl, figure skating instructor, pizza chef, lifeguard, and nanny. Many of these enriching and challenging experiences led to adventures that add a touch of humor to her stories. Mary loves long sunrise runs, ocean sunsets, and flavored coffee.

  Connect with Mary at her website: www.MaryMannersRomance.com. “Like” her author page on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.

  More Titles by Mary Manners

  Honeysuckle Cove Series

  Sunrise at Honeysuckle Cove (Honeysuckle Cove #1)

  Beyond the Storm (Honeysuckle Cove #2)

  Honeysuckle Cove Secrets (Honeysuckle Cove #3)

  Showered by Love (Honeysuckle Cove #4)

  Moonlight Kisses (Honeysuckle Cove #5)

  Diamond Knot Dreams Series

  A Tender Season (Diamond Knot Dreams Prequel)

  Veiled Gems (Diamond Knot Dreams #1)

  Jeweled Dreams (Diamond Knot Dreams #2)

  Precious Fire (Coming Soon)

  Crystal Wishes (Coming Soon)

  Picnics and Promises Collection

  A Pocketful of Wishes (Coming Soon)

  Love at Christmas Inn Collection

  Love at Christmas Inn: Collection 1

  Heart’s Haven Collection

  Dance with Me

  Love Notions

  Designed by Love

  Babycakes

  Christmas Novellas

  Angel Song

  Christmas Wishes...Special Delivery

  A Splash of Christmas

  A Boulder Creek Christmas