The Sweetest Thing (4 page)

Quentin’s head waved from side to side. “Good night, Rachel,” he said as he pushed her away, guiding her into her car. And then he turned, heading back toward the family’s business.

“When you’re ready to go back to your hotel room just let me know,” Troy said, easing out of the silence that had dropped down onto the table inside.

“Thank you,” Harper responded. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be a problem if I stayed upstairs in my father’s apartment.”

Troy’s eyes darted from side to side as he pondered her request. “I don’t see why not,” he said finally. “I mean, it is yours now.”

“I just want to start going through his things,” she said. “Maybe get to know more about him.”

Troy nodded. “I’m sorry you never had the chance to know Pop the way we knew him. He really was a special guy.”

Harper sighed. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”

“How old were you the last time you saw him?”

“Five, maybe six. He and my mother hated each other. I got caught in the middle.”

Troy’s head continued to bob up and down against his thick neck. “If you want we can swing by the hotel, check you out, and bring your things back here.”

“Thank you,” Harper intoned. “You’ve been very nice. I don’t think your brother likes me though.”

Troy smiled. “That’s not true. This has just really been hard on him. Pop was the only parent he has ever known. He was four when our mother left and we never knew our father. Pop literally saved our lives.”

Harper had already been feeling bad, but she suddenly felt even worse. Her head waved from side to side. “I am so sorry! I owe you both an apology. I really didn’t stop to think about how this was affecting the two of you. I’m usually not so self-absorbed.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. We’ll get through it. We just have to lean on each other,” Troy concluded. They both looked up as Quentin reentered the building, locking the front door behind him. The man met her stare as he walked into the room but he snatched it back just as quickly. Harper dropped her own eyes down to the table, nervous anxiety filling the pit of her stomach. Quentin moved back to the table and took a seat beside his brother. Miss Alice rejoined them.

“So what can I do to help?” the older woman queried.

Quentin shook his head. “Not a thing, Miss Alice. We’re all cleaned up in the kitchen. I’m going to finish up out here and then start getting ready for business tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep the bakery closed for the rest of the week?” Troy asked. “It’s only two more days.”

“No. I need to keep busy and Pop would have a fit if we didn’t open back up for the weekend,” Quentin answered.

“Well, it’s your decision.” Troy pushed himself up from the table. “I’m going to run Harper over to the hotel to get her things. She wants to stay upstairs while she’s here,” Troy noted.

“In Pop’s place?” Quentin questioned, his tone voicing surprise and disapproval.

“Is that a problem?” Harper asked.

“No, only . . . it’s . . . I . . .” he stammered, then leaned back in his seat and said nothing.

Troy interjected. “I’m sorry, Harper, I don’t know what I was thinking. There really isn’t any problem with your staying upstairs but since Quentin is usually here in the bakery all hours of the day and night he sometimes crashes in Pop’s guest room. I’m sure he just doesn’t want to intrude on your privacy.”

“Not sometimes. Most of the time,” Miss Alice interjected. “Quentin don’t stay no time at all at his apartment. I still don’t know what you bought that place for. Seems like a waste of perfectly good money ’cause you sure ain’t moved out of your daddy’s house yet.”

The two brothers shot each other a look and Troy gave Quentin a quick shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s not a problem,” Quentin said, his jawline tightened for the umpteenth time. “I’ll figure it out.”

Harper shook her head. “I’m not trying to cause you any inconvenience and it doesn’t make sense for you to have to figure it out. Just do what you usually do and I promise to stay out of your way.”

“Are you sure it’s not going to be a problem?” Quentin asked as he met her gaze.

She shook her head and smiled, her stare locked with his. “I’m sure.”

After wishing her grandmother a good night, Harper dialed Jasmine who answered on the first ring.

“You know I need to get to bed early and you’ve kept me waiting all damn day,” her friend chimed. “Are you okay?”

Harper smiled into the receiver. “I’m hanging in there.”

“Did you call Mama Pearl?”

“I did. I actually just hung up with her.”

“Good. She was worried about you, too. How was the funeral?”

“Depressing, but I met my father’s two sons.”

“What?” Jasmine exclaimed.

Harper could just imagine the expression on the woman’s face. She laughed heartily. “My father has two sons. Foster kids that he raised.”

“I bet you were just peaches and puppies when you found out,” Jasmine said sarcastically.

“I handled it very well actually. I didn’t foam at the mouth or spit nails.”

“Not much you didn’t!”

“I didn’t!”

“So, are they younger or older than you? Are they cute? Rich? Give me the four-one-one!”

Harper laughed again. “Older. Quentin is thirty-one and Troy is thirty-five. Both are very cute and they run my father’s bakery. Quentin is the pastry chef and Troy manages the books.”

“How cute is
very
cute?”

Harper paused, reflecting on the two men. Cute didn’t adequately describe either one of the brothers but it didn’t seem appropriate to tell her best friend that Quentin Elliott was the most delectable man she’d met in a very long time. And she definitely had no intentions of sharing that Quentin had her feeling some kind of way whenever he was near. Just thinking about him suddenly fired a ripple of heat through her feminine spirit.

She shook her head, squeezing her pelvic muscles to stall the sensation. None of it made an ounce of sense to her. She wasn’t even sure she liked the man, his prickly personality not overly encouraging. He had barely cracked one smile since they’d met and if it hadn’t been for the one or two questions he’d asked about her business, she would have sworn he’d already written off getting to know her. But then she’d caught him looking at her and his stare had fired her nerve endings.

She had no business lusting after a man she’d just met and definitely not at the funeral of the man they both considered a father. Her grandmother would have been mortified. Mama Pearl had not raised her to be so scandalous. This was almost as bad as when her own mother, Janie, had pulled Ben Flattery aside at his wife’s funeral, intoning that if he ever needed “anything” all he had to do was call. Janie had completely ignored the fact that everyone could see where her hands were resting as she did. The memory reminded Harper of all the other reasons she despised funerals.

She finally responded. “They’re nothing special.”

“Okay, what are you not telling me?” Jasmine questioned, knowing her all too well.

“I’ve told you everything, Jasmine. They both seem very nice. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Uh-huh,” her friend said, nodding into the receiver as if Harper could see her. “So can you hook a sister up?”

“Desperate much?”

“I’m not desperate at all. In fact, I have a date this weekend, so there!”

“A date? With who?”

“Mike Something-or-other. He’s Pastor Hill’s nephew’s cousin’s son from Atlanta, coming in for the Saxton wedding.”

“And you have a date with him?”

“Yep! We plan to hang out on Sunday.”

“Have you even seen him?”

“No, but he sounds like a dream come true over the telephone. His voice is so damn sexy he made me cream in my panties just saying hello.”

“You are so nasty!” Harper exclaimed.

Jasmine laughed with her. “On a serious note, the band cancelled for the Moore party next month.”

Harper tapped her palm against her forehead in frustration. “No, no, no! That’s not good. She insisted on that band. She said they were her husband’s favorite.”

“The lead singer has to have an operation or something. They returned their deposit and gave me a few referrals, so I’ll call Mrs. Moore and run them by her tomorrow.”

“No, call Carl first and run the list by him,” she said, referring to the musical technician they often turned to for advice. “He’ll be able to tell you which ones are worth our time. Then call his first choice and make sure they’re available. If they can do the party and they are willing to commit, call Mrs. Moore and tell her we found her a wonderful replacement and for her not to worry. If you give her too many options she will back and forth you to death and then we won’t have a band at all for her party.”

“Will do.”

“I need to get back there. I’ve got too much work to do. And it’s freezing here. Do you know they’re actually expecting snow this weekend? Snow, Jasmine. I hate snow.”

“When do you think you’ll be heading home?”

“The attorney is doing the will thing on Monday so I’ll figure it out after that.”

“Well, don’t worry about work. We really do have it under control. And go buy a winter coat. Sounds like you’ll need one.”

Harper shook her head from side to side. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Get some rest,” Jasmine intoned. “Love ya!”

Harper smiled. “Love you, too!”

Harper had been in a deep sleep when she was suddenly startled out of a nightmare. Her heart was racing, beating heavily in her chest. Her eyes skated around the unfamiliar room as she struggled to get her bearings. When she suddenly remembered where she was and why she was there, she took a deep breath and then a second to calm her nerves.

The first morning rays of the new day shimmered through the blinds that covered the windows. Peering through the slats Harper got her first glimpse of the snow that had been predicted the day before. Quentin and the weatherman had been wrong. Mother Nature had barely left a dusting of frost behind. Since he’d been so adamant, she couldn’t wait to tease him, maybe break down that chilly personality of his. Thinking about the man suddenly made her smile. Despite her initial reservations, there was still something about him that she found intriguing. There was suddenly a knock on the door, Quentin standing on the other side as if he had somehow read her mind.

“Yes?”

“Good morning,” Quentin called from the hallway. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” Harper answered. She skipped over to the door and pulled it open. “Good morning.”

“I heard you moving around and . . .” Quentin was suddenly speechless, his mouth agape. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he clearly hadn’t expected to have Harper standing half-naked in front of him.

As his light brown eyes took in the view, hers followed and she looked down to see what he was staring at. Harper’s dark orbs widened in disbelief as she realized in her excitement that she’d forgotten her bathrobe and was standing there in nothing but a black-lace thong and matching camisole. She suddenly slammed the door closed in his face. Stunned, both stood silent.

A few short minutes passed before Quentin knocked on the door a second time. “Harper?”

Harper shook her head from side to side then took a deep, deep breath. She reopened the door just enough to peer back into the hallway. Quentin was still standing there in awe. He met her doe-eyed stare and then grinned, his full mouth lifting into a magnificent smile. Wholeheartedly embarrassed, Harper flew into a fury.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

Quentin paused and then he began to laugh. The chortle was warm and full rising to a deep, belly-aching guffaw. His reaction infuriated Harper even more, her cheeks flaming a brilliant shade of red.

“What’s so damn funny?” she said, her hand clutching her hip as she hid behind the door.

He shook his head as he gulped for air, a tear rolling out of his eye. “You are,” he finally gasped. “Get dressed. I made you breakfast,” he said, still chuckling as Harper reslammed the door. As his laughter continued to echo off in the distance, Harper found herself smiling.

Damn, that woman is gorgeous,
Quentin thought as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Every muscle below his waist had hardened into steel as he reflected back on the encounter.

Her hair had been a tousled mass of loose curls and spiked locks. He imagined that she had simply pulled her fingers through the short length as she’d risen from bed. Sleep had still clouded her eyes but her cheeks were bright and there had been the most beautiful smile on her face.

The lace she’d been wearing had been sheer and he could see the outline of her nipples through her top, large dark areolas standing at full attention. Quentin had suddenly wondered what they would feel like between his lips, nubs of rock candy for him to savor. Then his gaze had dropped south to the slip of fabric that had barely covered the triangle of her pubic hair. It had taken every ounce of resilience not to trail his finger across the line of her body and twist one of those curls around his finger. And then she’d slammed the door in his face, wood just shy of slapping him in the nose.

Her reaction had been priceless and when she’d finally reopened the door, hiding behind the frame at a veiled attempt in modesty, there was nothing he could do but laugh. Laughing had made him instantly feel better, his spirit not as frozen as it had felt just days before. But his laughing had made her mad and for some reason, he found her being angry with him even funnier. Harper appeared to be a woman with a spirited personality and had she been any other woman he might have enjoyed that challenge.

He took a swift breath, fighting to stall the rising erection pressing hard against the zipper of his denim jeans. Thinking about Harper was proving to be a nuisance in ways he had not expected. As he took a sip of his morning brew he was hopeful that his body would return to a state of normalcy before the beautiful woman found her way into the kitchen.

Minutes later, as Quentin rose to pour himself a second cup of brew, Harper entered the room. As he turned to eye her she sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at him. This time she was modestly dressed in a white button-up blouse over a thigh-length navy blue skirt. Navy heels with shiny gunmetal stud accents and a silver-and-blue printed scarf draped casually around her neck completed her ensemble.

He smiled, shrugged, and gestured toward the coffeepot. “Would you like a cup?”

“Thank you,” she said as she dropped down onto a cushioned seat.

“Sorry about before,” Quentin said as he dropped a large mug onto the table.

“You still didn’t tell me what was so damn funny.”

He chuckled softly. “You should have seen your face.”

She tossed him an annoyed look. “I may have overreacted so I’m sorry as well. Let’s just forget it happened.”

Quentin nodded, knowing that he had no intentions of ever forgetting what he had seen. “Are you hungry? I have eggs, bacon, fruit, and fresh-baked croissants. Or if you want, I can make you something else?”

“No, that sounds really good. I’m anxious to try the croissants. Did you make them?”

He nodded. “I did. We bake them fresh every morning.”

“Is the bakery open already?” she questioned, glancing over to the clock on the wall. It was just past eight o’clock in the morning.

Quentin nodded. “We’ve been open since six-thirty, for the breakfast crowd. It’s in good hands though. We have a great staff. Trustworthy, dependable, always willing to go the extra yard. You met a few of them last night.”

Harper sipped her coffee while Quentin prepped her breakfast plate. “How long have you been here?” she suddenly asked.

Quentin set her plate, and his own, onto the table. “I was downstairs all night. When I came up I heard you. That’s when I knocked on the door.”

“Have you had any sleep at all?”

“I’ll get a couple of hours this afternoon. Usually I bake through the night and the morning, then rest in the afternoon. At night, after I close up the shop, I’ll start baking again. I grab a lot of naps during the day or whenever I can.”