No. Oh, no. She definitely couldn't let him into the bakery. That would be even more dangerous than simply having him in town, aware that she lived here now, as well.
She opened her mouth to say so, linking her arms across her chest to let him know she had no intention of changing her mind, when Brian stopped her. Touching her shoulder, he tipped his head, signaling her to follow him a few steps away, out of earshot of Marcus.
"Miss Mason. Vanessa," he said, dropping formalities. "Think about this. Please. I know Mr. Keller is your ex-husband-although I had no idea when I set up today's meeting. I never would have asked him to come here if I had-but if he's willing to invest in The Sugar Shack, as your financial advisor, I have to recommend that you seriously consider his offer. You're doing all right at the moment. The bakery is holding its own. But you'll never be able to move forward with your plans to expand without added capital from an outside source, and if worst comes to worst, one bad season could cause you to lose the business entirely."
Even though Vanessa didn't want to listen, didn't want to believe Brian was right, she knew deep down that he was. The Sugar Shack might be her livelihood, but smart financial planning was his. She wouldn't have begun working with him in the first place if she didn't think he knew what he was doing.
Casting a glance over her shoulder to be sure Marc couldn't overhear their conversation, she turned back and whispered, "There's more at stake here than just the bakery, Brian." So much more. "I'll let him look around. Let the two of you talk. But no matter what kind of plan you two come up with, no matter what offer he might make, I can't promise I'll be willing to accept. I'm sorry."
He looked none too pleased with her assertion, but he nodded, accepting that she would only be pushed so far where Marcus Keller was concerned.
Returning to Marc, Brian informed him of her decision and they started forward again, toward the main entrance of the bakery. The heavenly scents of freshly baked bread, pies and other pastries filled the air the closer they got. As always, those smells caused Vanessa's stomach to rumble and her mouth to water, making her hungry for a piping-hot cinnamon roll or a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Which probably explained why she hadn't quite managed to shed all of her baby weight yet.
At the front door, she stopped abruptly, turning to face the two men. "Wait here," she told them. "I have to warn Aunt Helen that you're in town and explain what's going on. She never particularly liked you," she added, aiming her comment directly at Marc, "so don't be surprised if she refuses to come out while you're here."
He shot her a sardonic grin. "I'll be sure to keep my horns and tail hidden if I run into her."
Vanessa didn't bother responding to that. She was too afraid of what kind of retort might spill from her mouth. Instead, she spun and pushed her way into the bakery.
Keeping a smile on her face and cheerily greeting customers who were sipping cups of coffee, tea or cocoa, and enjoying some of her and her aunt's most popular baked goods, she hurried to the kitchen.
As usual, Helen was bustling around doing this and that. She might have been in her seventies, but she had the energy of a twenty-year-old. Up at the crack of dawn each morning, she always went to work immediately, gathering ingredients, mixing, rolling, cutting, scooping … and managing to keep track of whatever was in the ovens, even three or four different items all set at different temperatures for various amounts of time.
Vanessa was a fairly accomplished baker herself, but readily admitted it took some doing to keep up with her aunt. Add to that the fact that Helen helped her man the counter and take care of Danny, and Vanessa literally did not know what she would do without her.
The squeak of the swinging double doors cutting off the kitchen area from the front of the store alerted Helen to her arrival.
"You're back," her aunt said without bothering to look up from the sugar cookies she was dusting with brightly colored sprinkles.
"Yes, but we have a problem," Vanessa told her.
At that, Helen raised her head. "You didn't get the money?" she asked, disappointment lacing her tone.
Vanessa shook her head. "Worse. The investor Brian has me meeting with is Marc."
The container of sprinkles fell from Helen's hand, hitting the metal cookie sheet and spilling everywhere. Not a disaster, just a few cookies that would turn out sloppier than usual. And whatever didn't look appropriate for sale could always go on a plate as an after-dinner treat for themselves.
"You're kidding," her aunt breathed in a shocked voice.
Vanessa shook her head and crossed to where Helen stood rooted to the spot like a statue. "Unfortunately, I'm not. He's outside right now, waiting for a tour of the bakery, so I need you to take Danny upstairs and stay there until I give you the all clear."
Her fingers moved at the speed of light as she undid the knot at Helen's waist, slipping the flour-dusted apron over her head and tossing it aside. Her aunt immediately reached up to pat her stack of puffy, blue-washed curls.
Rushing across the room, Vanessa paused to stare down at her adorable baby boy, who was lying on his back in a small bassinet, doing his best to get his pudgy little toes into his perfect pink mouth. As soon as he saw her, he smiled wide and began to gurgle happily, sending a stab of love so deep through Vanessa's soul, it stole her breath.
Lifting him up and onto her shoulder, she wished she had the time to tickle and tease and coo with him. She loved running the bakery, and was very proud of what she and Aunt Helen had managed to build together, but Danny was her pride and joy. Her favorite moments of the day were those she got to spend alone with him, feeding him, bathing him, making him laugh.
Pressing a kiss to the side of his head, she whispered, "Later, sweetheart, I promise." Just as soon as she could get rid of Marc and Brian.
Turning to her aunt, who had come up behind them, she handed the baby off.
"Hurry," she said. "And keep him as quiet as you can. If he starts to cry, turn on the TV or the radio or something to try to cover it up. I'll get rid of them as quickly as I can."
"All right," Helen readily agreed, "but keep an eye on the ovens. The pinwheel cookies only need another five minutes. The baklava and lemon streusel cake will be a while longer. I set the timers."
Vanessa nodded her understanding, then with Helen bustling off to hide Danny in the small apartment they kept over the bakery, she pushed the now-empty bassinet across the kitchen and into a back storage room. Grabbing an extra white tablecloth with blue and yellow eyelet lace trim, she used it to cover the large piece of telling furniture.
Leaving the storage room, her gaze darted left to right and up and down, searching for any remaining signs of Danny's presence. A few stray items, she might be able to explain … A rattle? Oh, a customer must have left it-I'll have to put it in the Lost and Found.
A handful of diapers? I keep those on hand for when I watch a friend's baby. Yes, that sounded plausible.
A half-full bottle in the fridge or a prescription of ear drops in Danny Keller's name from a recent infection? Those might be a little tougher to justify.
She used a clean towel to brush away some of the worst of the spilled sprinkles and grabbed the pinwheels from the oven to keep them from burning, but otherwise left the kitchen as it had been when she'd walked in. Then she pushed back through the double swinging doors into the front of the bakery … and ran smack into a waiting Marcus.
Two
Marc's arms came up to seize Vanessa as she flew through the double doors from the kitchen and hit him square in the chest. The impact wasn't hard enough to hurt, although it did catch him slightly off guard. Then, once he had his hands on her, her body pressed full-length along his own and he didn't want to let go.
It had been a long time since he'd held this woman. Too long, if the blood pounding in his veins and the heat suffusing his groin were any indication.