“How is your ankle?” he asked politely.
“Much better, thanks.” She limped over to the coatrack, removed her blazer and donned the comfortable lab coat.
“I gave Mr. Bentley a tour of our facilities,” Edmund announced.
“I see you raided the production line,” she teased. “Enjoy your breakfast, gentlemen. I’ll gather my supplies for the day.”
“Piper, these caramel doughnuts are the most wonderful things I’ve ever tasted,” Edmund declared, wiping a corner of his mouth. “If Harriet knew I was eating these, she’d have my hide.” He shook his head and grunted.
She smiled at her boss, knowing he was laying it on thick for the sake of their guest. “Your secret is safe with me, Edmund.” She noticed Rich studying Mr. Bentley unobtrusively and started in surprise.
Her assistant glanced her way, flushed, then straightened. “Speaking of having someone’s hide, Prickett will have mine if I don’t help with the morning inspection.” He headed for the door, adding over his shoulder, “I’ll check in with you later, Piper.”
“Well, Mr. Bentley,” Edmund said, wiping the sugar from his hands, “I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Ms. Shepherd.”
Stepping into the deep supply closet kept her from hearing Mr. Bentley’s response, only the muffled sound of his deep voice. The voice of a confident, rich, successful, powerful man. Despite her vow, she couldn’t argue with the fact that her hands shook and her heart raced at the thought of spending the next few days with Ian Bentley, ring or no ring. Which simply demonstrated how desperate she was, she realized with disgust, trying valiantly to concentrate on the task at hand.
Tall shelves crammed with nonperishable ingredients towered over her—white sugar, brown sugar, powdered sugar, white flour, bread flour, wheat flour, baking soda, salt, dark cocoa, white cocoa butter, peanut butter, assorted nuts, marshmallow creme, fudge sauce, caramel sauce, strawberry sauce, raspberry sauce and an exhaustive list of other goodies. The fragrance alone tickled every taste bud in her mouth, and simply inhaling was worth a good fifty calories or so.
She gathered a handful of spices and flavorings and tossed them into a sturdy metal cart, which doubled as a step stool, along with five pounds of flour and five pounds each of white and brown sugar. She had several ideas, but she knew her banana-cream pudding would knock Mr. Bentley’s socks off.
Her train of thought led her to imagine other articles of his clothing being knocked off, but she immediately put on the brakes and reviewed necessary ingredients in her head. So absorbed was she with her mental shopping list that when she heard his voice behind her, she froze.
“My, my, there are all kinds of tempting things in here.”
Piper squashed down erotic thoughts, steeled herself and turned. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his broad chest. She managed a shaky smile. “Pick something you like and I’ll add it to the cart.”
His smile was slow and pulse-pounding. “Well, Ms. Shepherd, I wouldn’t stop you from climbing on.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Once you find a marriageable man, don’t wink, tease, flirt or otherwise let him know you’re interested.
PIPER SQUEEZED a plastic bottle of banana syrup so hard, the top blew off and ricocheted between the metal shelving twice before rolling to a stop by the toe of her shoe. She replayed Ian Bentley’s words in her mind. “Excuse me?” she asked, buying time. After all, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself—either way—if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
Mr. Bentley straightened, cleared his throat and pointed to her injured foot. “If you need to take the weight off your ankle, feel free to take a seat on your cart. I’m in no hurry.”
His gray eyes were innocent, and Piper felt weak with relief. The mild painkiller was playing tricks on her. “Oh.” She bent to retrieve the wayward lid. “No, I’m fine,” she lied. Fingers of pain probed her ankle even as she loitered in the closet, lusting after an unavailable man. Determined to focus on her bonus, Piper stood erect and replaced the lid on the bottle. The provocative shape of the hand-friendly, tapered container made her nervous, so she deposited it abruptly into the cart. “I—I hope you like the recipe I have in mind for your new dessert, Mr. Bentley.”
He shrugged and glanced around the room. “You’re the expert. And I’ll eat just about anything sweet…unless it contains bananas.”
Piper stopped and stared. “Bananas?”
He nodded. “I like them, but unfortunately, I’m allergic.”
“Allergic,” she parroted. “Imagine that.”
His wide shoulders rose in a shrug. “And I have to admit—anything chocolate is bound to get my attention.”
“Chocolate,” she repeated, already picturing the hives, the swollen eyes and the thick tongue she’d develop from all the tasting. “That’s…great. Nobody does chocolate like I do chocolate.” Reluctantly.
He grinned, looking boyish and outrageously appealing. “Terrific. Of course, if you feel compelled to make something with bananas, go ahead.”
“But you just said—”
“I don’t believe in depriving the buying public simply because I can’t indulge. I try my best to ignore cravings for things I shouldn’t have.”
Piper gazed into his eyes and swallowed. Was he referring to this, this…attraction between them and his status as a married man? Or was she reading too much into his words because of her own sudden awareness? “I wouldn’t want you to, um, suffer.”
His eyes darkened and he leaned toward her almost imperceptibly. “Some things are worth the consequences, no matter how dire.”
Just as her knees weakened, the fluorescent light caught the glint of his wedding ring, sobering Piper. Even if the man wasn’t taken, he emanated too much sexual energy for her comfort level. But under no circumstances would she become involved with a married man. A flush of embarrassment climbed her neck—she was so naive when it came to men that she couldn’t even be sure if he was baiting her for an affair or simply informing her he’d break out in a rash if he ate bananas.
Thankfully, Mr. Bentley saved her from responding. He glanced away and drew himself up, breaking the moment—if indeed there’d been one. “I’m more interested in the aesthetic appeal of your recipes, the marketability and—” he smiled tightly “—the cost, of course.”
Feeling like a ninny, Piper grabbed a canister of white and dark cocoa and added them to the pile. Then she gripped the cart handle with sweaty hands and headed toward the door. Her best hope to diffuse the sexual tension was to minimize their time together—she’d get rid of him as soon as possible and work overtime until the project’s completion. He’d be on his way back to Chicago in no time, after he’d signed a contract for the most decadent chocolate dessert she could concoct, of course. “We can discuss the recipe in the lab,” she suggested, frantic to get some distance from the man.
“Let me take that,” he offered, reaching for the handle of the cart.
She glanced down to maneuver around Bentley’s expensive-looking shoes. “That’s all right—”
His fingers brushed hers, nudging her hand aside. For some reason, the touch seemed more intimate than either time he’d lifted her into his arms. She pulled away so quickly, she nearly threw herself off balance. Then she sidled past him as gracefully as she could with her clubby ankle, and indicated her favorite work counter, where he parked the cart.
Keenly aware of him following her, Piper crossed the checkerboard black-and-white tile floor to the coffeemaker. She poured herself a cup of black decaf coffee and refreshed his cup as well. Striving for nonchalance,