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  “Put me down, Ben. Now.”

  He set her down, and Violet gave him a stern look before reaching back and slapping him across the face. He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he accepted her reaction. He then nodded. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

  Violet folded her arms and spoke calmly. “This is obviously not working out. I’ll ask Wynne for a transfer by the end of the week.”

  Without another word, she walked past him and threw the office door open. The night manager, Jamie, stood at the threshold, a shocked expression on her face.

  “Vi, was that you? I heard a scream.”

  “I thought I saw a mouse under my desk. But it was just a hat.”

  Violet made her way through the prep area without waiting for the night manager’s reply. Up the stairs to the main floor she headed, past the cupcake counter and onto the sales floor. She was pulling her cell phone out of her pocket as she ignored the floor supervisor calling her name. The phone was to her ear as she pushed past the crowds of tourists, and there was no turning back as she tugged on the front entrance and headed into the open air.

  “Hey, it’s Vi. Still up for dinner tomorrow?”

  • • •

  Friday flew by in a haze for Ben. The pace, while he’d managed to keep up without getting overwhelmed, had kept him far too busy to have anything more than a yes/no conversation with Violet. And he knew he owed her more than that. A bridge had burned between them after he’d dominated her the day before, and it hadn’t taken more than an hour for him to realize that he messed up and would’ve given anything to take back what he’d done in the heat of the moment. In fact, he had spent the entire day waiting to hear from Wynne, who would certainly have a problem with her protégé wanting to transfer out of the company’s flagship location.

  The call from Wynne never came, however. Had Violet changed her mind about leaving? On more than a couple of occasions, he caught himself watching her at the icer’s station from the registers, hoping he hadn’t destroyed any shot he had of building something good with the bakery by pissing off the one girl he’d been excited about working with from the moment he met her.

  His entire commute home to his Upper West Side condo was spent thinking of her, wondering how he could possibly turn things around. Even after showering and heading back out to meet Tommy at Hiro Sushi, he couldn’t shake the thought of her upset or his own feelings of guilt that followed.

  Ollie’s Hiro Sushi was a small, chic but casual Chinese/Japanese restaurant located less than a couple of blocks from Ben’s building, tucked away on the corner of Freedom Place and West Sixty-Eighth Street. As he followed the waitress to his table, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the irony. He and Elena had spent many nights huddled in a random booth around a bottle of wine, making out between courses like a couple of lovesick teenagers. Now he was here waiting for his attorney to arrive so that he could discuss the details of his divorce, along with a strategy to stop the woman he’d once loved from destroying his life.

  He’d already drained one whiskey and had been swirling the second in its glass for what felt like a long time before his phone finally rang.

  “Bro, it’s Tommy. Where are you?”

  “Exactly where I told you I’d be,” Ben answered. “At Ollie’s, waiting for you.”

  “Shit. I’m guessing you didn’t get my message, then.”

  Ben fought off the frustrated sigh that threatened to escape. “That’d be a fair assumption.”

  “I’ve got a pretty hefty emergency with another client,” Tommy said. “They pay by the hour and your case is pro bono, so … ”

  “I get it. So why are you calling?”

  “To check in. And to make sure you’re not pissed at me.”

  “I wasn’t when I thought you were coming.”

  Tommy groaned. “Come on, bro, I’m sorry. I have bills to pay, ya know? I followed up with my contact to make sure I’m not missing anything from Elena’s camp, and it’s cool. Nothing’s changed yet, at least not for the worse.”

  “Elena’s camp,” Ben repeated. “What kind of assault is she building, anyway? And who’s your contact? Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention their name.”

  “I can’t yet,” Tommy replied quickly. “The person I’ve been chatting with could destroy Elena’s case against you, and I’m still in the process of wearing them down. If it got back to her that I was working on someone so close, it’d destroy everything.”

  “This is all way too Mission Impossible for me. What happened to the days when a guy and girl could just get divorced and call it a day?”

  “No one told you to marry a delusional lunatic, pal.” Tommy chuckled, his voice hardened and reminiscent of a gangster film. “She’s built you up in her mind to be some sort of monster, and she’s made the act of divorcing you into some sort of conquest. I’ve read some of her statements and trust me, bro—you don’t want to know.”

  “But I do! Why haven’t I seen these papers yet?”

  “Would you trust me, please? I’m handling this … You don’t need any more of the stress.”

  “Dude, we need to talk about this.” Ben ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m tired of the secrets and the sheltering. I feel like you’re pulling me through a minefield with my eyes closed.”

  “All right, Ben, you win. I’ll show you everything,” Tommy conceded. “Except my source. I can’t risk Elena finding out.”

  “Fine, that’s a deal,” Ben agreed. “But I’ll tell you what, if you can get me out of this with little to no collateral damage, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Tommy laughed. “Don’t paint yourself into any corners, buddy. But you know I’ve got your back.”

  “All right, I’ve got a Scotch to nurse.” Ben sighed. “Maybe I’ll drink myself stupid and stumble back to my place. Lord knows I’m close enough to make it.”

  “Yep, that’s healthy. Just be careful, all right? Try to avoid doing anything stupid.”

  “I make no promises.”

  As Ben wrapped up the call, he spotted something shiny out of the corner of his eye. The shiny something happened to be a silver bangle, but it was the arm to which it was attached that made his heart skip a beat. Violet? He set his phone down without looking, dangerously close to dropping it in his glass. What was Violet doing in his neighborhood? It occurred to him that he had no idea where she lived.

  Her eyes darted nervously around the restaurant, and his stomach churned as he dropped his head to avoid being seen. Maybe she’s meeting someone, but here? Mercifully, the waitress approached as he struggled to get his thoughts together, batting her eyes and smiling.

  “Can I get you another Scotch, sir?”

  He twisted in his chair so that the waitress was directly in front of him. “Sure. Why don’t you tell me what you recommend?”

  Ben hardly heard her launch into details about their top-shelf product. He smiled up at her and nodded, all the while peeking around the waitress to glance at Violet, who seemed thoroughly engrossed in the menu her server had placed at her table.

  “Sir?” Whoops. He hadn’t heard her stop talking.

  “You know what, I think I’ll just stick to what I’ve got here,” he replied, feeling guilty. “But thanks.”

  He eyed Violet from across the restaurant, carefully keeping his head tilted toward his glass. He noticed she was tense and obviously nervous—her hands, knotted together, practically tapped out a rhythm on the table as she sat with her eyes closed and took deep breaths. A small twinge of jealousy that he refused to acknowledge set up a knot in the pit of his stomach. Hot date, huh? He tossed back the last sip of his second Scotch just as the waitress served up his third, whisking the other glass away without so much as a word. Violet’s server approached her table with a smile but was turned away with a nervous shake of the head as Violet buried her face in her menu.

  He had gone through his third drink and was just being brought another when Violet’s deme
anor finally changed. She repeatedly checked her phone, alternatively staring out the window, fiddling with her silverware, and looking through her menu. Then, with a final check of the phone, her shoulders slumped. Ben grabbed his own and looked at it; an hour had gone by. And he’d been watching her like a stalker for exactly that long. With a frown, he realized that Violet had been stood up. His brow furrowed as he watched sympathetically—she stared hard at the tablecloth in front of her, and Ben could tell that she was willing herself not to cry. And before he could stop himself, he was out of his chair and fast approaching her table.

  “Violet?”

  She looked up with a startled expression. “Ben? What are you … ?”

  “I live in the neighborhood,” he said casually. “Just stopping in for dinner. Do you live around here?”

  She took a breath before replying, “No, not at all. I was, um … I am meeting someone.”

  “Oh.” He nodded, feigning ignorance. “I’m guessing they’ll be here any minute then?”

  “Actually,” she sniffed, standing, “I think I’ve been stood up. So I think I might just … ”

  He held out a hand to stop her from grabbing her purse. “Wait, would you maybe ... ? Do you think you might want to have a drink?”

  Violet froze, obviously surprised by his abrupt invitation. Ben, frankly, was about as stunned by his offer as she looked. But he couldn’t leave her there by herself—the disappointment on her face and the embarrassment in her eyes knocked him for a loop. Compared to the strong cake-queen persona she always had on display for him at work, this current vulnerability took him by surprise, and his heart immediately went out to her. One drink can’t hurt. Maybe I can send her home with a smile.

  “I mean,” he continued, “before you go, of course. Come on, I owe you one.”

  “That’s really nice of you, Ben,” she answered cautiously. “But I think I’ll just … ”

  Ben stepped around her and pulled her chair out slightly, gesturing toward it. “Come on, just one. At least let me ease my conscience.”

  Violet heaved a sigh and took the chair he offered, scooting with its movement as he tucked her back into the table.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked as he took the seat across from her.

  She folded her hands in her lap. “The house Merlot.”

  “That’s a heavy red for the summertime,” he remarked. “You like big wines, I take it?”

  She nodded. “I’m not much of a connoisseur, obviously. But I like my wine to have a punch, I guess. The Chardonnays and the Pinot Grigios just aren’t my thing.”

  Ben smiled. “I can respect that.”

  He called the waitress over and ordered another Scotch for himself and a glass of Merlot for her. Violet gave him an impressed look, a teasing grin stretching across her face.

  “Talk about heavy drinks for the summertime. I’d be sweating like an animal if I had what you’re drinking.”

  Slightly offended, he frowned. Was she putting the walls back up? “I wasn’t judging your choice of wine, was I?”

  “No, and I wasn’t either … I was just … I was just saying.” Violet dropped her head with a small, embarrassed smile.

  “So, Violet”—he was careful to use her full name as she had corrected him so many times before—“do you live anywhere near here?”

  She shook her head. “Washington Heights. Well, I’m right at the border. I was just down here meeting someone for dinner.”

  “Ah, the dummy who stood you up.”

  She bit her lip nervously and nodded. “Yeah, that guy. It’s fine, though. He won’t get another shot now.”

  The hard anger in her voice as she dismissed her potential suitor made Ben cringe a little, and he laughed in spite of himself. “Wow, remind me not to get you angry.”

  Violet tilted her head to one side, finally looking good-natured. “You already did, remember?”

  “You got me there, Violet.” Ben slumped in defeat, and she let out a peal of delighted laughter.

  “Call me Vi.”

  Their eyes locked, and a warm stretch of silence extended between them as the server placed their drinks in front of them. Once again, it may as well have been day one. Glad that he hadn’t decided to call it an early night, Ben found his appetite—among other things—returning. And, if he were being honest with himself, Violet was certainly a great alternative to an early, whiskey-sodden bedtime.

  Six

  Three hours, dinner, and quite a few drinks later, Violet was surprised to have learned as much about him as she had in this short span of time. They’d traded life stories over truly scrumptious dim sum and a shared plate of lo mein. Their check sat unattended on the table between them. She drained her umpteenth glass and licked her lips while she studied him. Her tummy jumped as he watched her quietly.

  “Well, forgive me for saying so,” she remarked, “but Elena sounds like a nut job.”

  “As does Steve. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “So am I.” She nodded, waving for the server. “And I’m sorry you had such a cold-hearted witch for a wife. If I had been in her shoes, things would have been a lot different.”

  Yikes. Maybe that was a little too forward for a girl who’d only been friendly with him for the equivalent of a full day. Too late to hold her tongue now. She looked up at Ben self-consciously; his smile had widened.

  “Don’t get shy on me now, Vi. This is easily the most open and fun conversation I’ve had in … years.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Oh, come on, Ben … years?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got no reason to lie. I’ve had an absolute blast hanging out with you tonight. And honestly? I don’t want it to end.”

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, grinning boldly. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  He brought his glass to his lips. “Like I said, I’ve got no reason to lie.”

  Ben continued to watch her, his gaze playfully dark as he drained his glass. She hadn’t expected her night to turn out like this, but here she was. And where it was headed was obvious, at least in her mind. She bit her lower lip again, butterflies setting up camp in her tummy and sending tiny bolts of lightning through her veins. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, amused by just how unready she was for all of this.

  “Oh man, I hate to do this,” she said, “but I have to go. I just really—I can’t.”

  Ben paused and nodded. “I get it. But can I see you again?”

  She stood slowly, and he followed suit. Was he being a gentleman, or was he just too drunk to realize what he was doing? He approached her with a flirtatious smirk, his steps resembling a cowboy’s swagger that had the potential to drive her crazy. She ran a hand through her untamed tresses, grabbing a handful as she laughed coyly.

  “You mean like at work … boss?”

  Ben dropped a rather large bill onto the table with a chuckle, and Violet pretended hard not to notice the tremendous tip he was leaving as he led her away from the table. “Oh, I was hoping that wouldn’t come up tonight.”

  “How could it not come up? You’re my manager; I’m your production supervisor.”

  “We’re two people who seem to get along a lot better when we’re not at the bakery.” Ben placed one hand directly on her back as he reached forward and held the door open for her with one strong, deft arm. “But you’re right. It might be a problem—I’ve never been interested in a co-worker before.”

  Violet strolled toward the curb, her head swimming from the copious amounts of wine she’d imbibed. A happy giggle escaped her lips, and she nearly clamped her hands over her mouth. “Me neither.”

  Oh no. A twinge of panic rushed through her as their arms brushed together. Ben was her boss; getting involved with him was a bad idea, period. This should have been an easy decision. Instead, Violet felt like she was being tugged in opposite directions by both arms.

  She watched as he took long strides to the curb, his long and graceful body extendi
ng outward as he hailed a cab. He was wearing a black v-neck tee shirt and dark blue jeans, and she noticed for the first time that his blond locks were perfectly mussed. Maybe it was the Merlot goggles, but Ben Preston was more gorgeous than she remembered. A cab came screeching to a stop in front of them, and she immediately regretted saying she had to leave. She dropped her head with a sigh and stepped toward the cab, looking up to say goodbye. To her surprise, Ben was closer than ever and still taller by a large amount despite the fact that she was standing on the curb and he was in the street.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “You’re … really tall.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ben sniffed playfully.

  And you smell like heaven. But all she could mutter was, “Like, really tall.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  Violet could feel her cheeks burning as she watched Ben examine her face carefully. The world around her seemed to fall into a haze; the only things left were his ice-blue eyes, chiseled jaw covered in a half day’s growth, and that far too tempting mouth.

  Ben reached out, touching her jaw with a gentle, slightly callused fingertip. “Vi?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The cab is here.”

  Thoroughly embarrassed, she took a careful step off the curb. “Ben, it’s been … ”

  “It has.”

  She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Will you … ?”

  He smiled warmly, curving his finger beneath her chin. “Tomorrow.”

  Her heart raced and her breath grew short—they may have connected to the point that he was actually reading her mind. What the hell is going on? Before she could declare to herself for the second time that night that this wasn’t like her, Ben tilted her chin upward. Her lips parted involuntarily and, without another word, his mouth closed over hers. The kiss was gentle, unassuming … genuine. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and her entire body was humming by the time he pulled away from her.

  Violet closed her eyes, dropping her head with a sigh as her indecisiveness came to a crashing halt. It may have been completely unlike her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she didn’t speak now, the opportunity may never present itself again.