“He tells me Lillian’s sells the best desserts around. I’m new to Chicago, so I’m still learning my way.”
“Well, let me give you the most delicious tour you’ll ever take in this city.”
Carter retrieved a small silver platter from behind the counter and picked out several sweets from the array of intricately decorated cupcakes, pies and Lillian’s famous petit fours.
As Lowell Thompson sampled a dark chocolate espresso cupcake, Carter explained that nearly every item could be made in miniature sizes, more suitable to cocktail parties and other catered events.
“You have an impressive operation going here,” the man commented.
“It’s been going for several decades, and it just keeps growing. These are our newest bestsellers.” Carter motioned to the shelves lined with Lillian’s latest hot item: ingredients for their most popular cookie and brownie flavors in prepackaged mixes that customers could bake at home. It had been his cousin Shari’s idea, and it was turning out to be a lucrative one. Even so, most of their customers claimed that no matter how hard they tried, the make-at-home desserts didn’t have that special Lillian’s touch.
“I’m running late for a meeting, but if you have some time later this afternoon, I’d like to return and discuss a few options.”
“Absolutely.” Carter retrieved a business card from his pocket. “Why don’t you log on to our website and look over our product offerings? If there’s something special you’re seeking, just let me know. We’ll work with you.”
Carter bade the man goodbye and turned back toward the kitchen, but he stopped short at the sight of a woman standing at the register talking to his cousin Drake. He’d never seen her in the bakery before. His gaze traveled over her soft yellow skirt and matching silk blouse, taking in every nuance. Even though the clothes were a bit stuffy for Carter’s taste, he had to admit that she wore them well. Damn well.
She was petite—couldn’t top more than five feet—with milky, caramel-colored skin and luxuriant light brown hair streaked with honey-colored highlights. She was what his grandmother would call a classic beauty.
And she came from money. No doubt about it.
Her clothes said it, but the bling in her ears and around her wrist practically screamed it.
After less than a minute of observing her, Carter had already sized her up. He could tell the kind of person she was simply by the way she held herself: regal, untouchable. Not his usual type of woman—the exact opposite, in fact. His usual type wore about eighty percent less clothing. But there was something about this one that made him want to ruffle her feathers.
Carter started for the counter, but halted as a mother who’d been picking out pastries with her young son cut him off. The little boy, who was holding a cupcake, walked smack into Ms. Prim and Proper, smearing icing all over the designer jacket she held draped over her arm.
Carter stood back and waited for the fireworks.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the mother exclaimed, grabbing the mushed cupcake from the boy’s hand.
Prim and Proper lifted the jacket to eye level, regarded the offending stain...and licked it.
Carter’s head jerked back.
“Mmm. That’s pretty good. I see why my jacket wanted a taste,” she said, smiling down at the little boy, who giggled in return. “But it looks as if you need a new cupcake.” She motioned for Drake to give the little boy another one.
Shock rooted Carter where he stood. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Neither had he expected a simple smile to transform her from reserved to...approachable. Very approachable.
Carter sidled up to the counter where she’d redirected her attention to Drake and a cake brochure she’d apparently brought in from one of their competitors.
“You made the right choice,” Carter said, motioning to the brochure.
She turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“The cakes here at Lillian’s are a thousand times better than what you’ll get over there.” He extended his hand. “Carter Drayson, one of the head pastry chefs. And you are?”
She hesitated for the merest moment before accepting his outstretched hand. Carter’s initial suspicion was confirmed: she definitely came from money. No way had this smooth palm ever engaged in a millisecond of physical labor.
“Lorraine,” she replied.
“It’s my deepest pleasure to meet you, Lorraine.” He executed a short bow. “Welcome to Lillian’s.”
“You mind, Carter?” This from Drake. “I’m trying to help Lorraine with her order.”
“What’s the occasion?” Carter asked. “Birthday?”
“Wedding shower,” Drake answered.
Disappointment shot through him. Well, that was fun while it lasted.
“My sister’s wedding shower,” Lorraine interjected.
Carter’s radar immediately went on high alert. She had been pretty quick to clarify that bit of information, and wasn’t that interesting as hell?
Deciding to temporarily dismiss the fact that Lorraine wasn’t his usual type, Carter retrieved the sample brochure from his cousin’s hand, earning an annoyed look from Drake.
“Nothing you’ll find at this place will be good enough,” he continued as he examined the brochure. He glanced at Drake, whose stare was downright murderous. As if Carter cared. His morning had suddenly taken an interesting twist. He needed to know whether there was something more lurking underneath Miss Prim and Proper’s stuffy outfit.
Although Carter still wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t his type. Was she? No, she definitely wasn’t his type.
Yet he felt the smile he normally invoked only when he was going in for the kill draw across his face.
“Your sister’s wedding shower deserves something more than a generic cake,” he continued. “Although even the generic cakes at Lillian’s are much better than anything else you’ll find in this city.”
“Carter, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Drake bit out.
“As a matter of fact, I do. In my office with Lorraine here. I think we need to put our heads together and come up with something extra special for your sister’s wedding shower.” He tossed the brochure in the trash behind the counter and motioned to Lorraine. “Follow me.”
She looked from him to Drake and then back at him.
“Come on.” Carter gestured. “It’ll be painless, I promise.”
Two well-arched eyebrows peaked over her expressive brown eyes. She directed her question to Drake. “Is it safe to follow him back there?”
“Depends on who you ask” was his cousin’s answer before turning his attention to another customer who had just walked through the door.
Carter led her down the hallway and into one of the two offices used for customer consultations. He offered her a seat before retrieving an order form from the cherry filing cabinet.
“So, what’s the theme of the shower?” he started.
“I’m not sure we’ve established a theme, per se. It will be your typical bridal shower.”
“What can you tell me about your sister? What are some of her hobbies?”
Lorraine’s shoulders stiffened defensively. “Why do you need to know about Trina’s hobbies?”
“So we’ll know what kind of cake would work best for her wedding shower.”
“I