Her beautiful chocolate eyes filled with determination. The need to comfort strangled him but he kept his feet rooted to the floor. “I know Michael wants you to eventually run La Dolce Maggie. You’re dedicated and smart—I never questioned those qualities about you, cara. But is this what you want?”
The flash of doubt was quickly buried. “Of course. This is what I trained for. I don’t intend to let my family down.”
Pride cut through him. The woman before him held more loyalty and work ethic than anyone he’d known. Still, he remembered her creativity and longing to paint. Remembered her mother hanging her work in the kitchen and being surprised at her talent. “You never answered my question. Is this what you want?”
She sank white teeth into the tender flesh of her lip. He remembered plunging his tongue between those ruby lips and devouring her. Max held back a groan of sheer misery. “This is all I have,” she said softly.
He tipped her chin up and studied her face. Why would she say something so odd? Endless choices stretched ahead of her. Michael may have hopes she’d sit at the helm, but his friend would back her if she insisted on a different path. Venezia pursued a career in fashion, and Michael always boasted of her talent and individuality.
He sensed her heart had never belonged to the business industry like Julietta’s. In his gut, she belonged somewhere else. He just wasn’t sure where.
A quick tap on the door pulled his attention. Jim peeked his head in, earbud firmly in place. “Boss, we got a problem. Michael needs you to get over to the waterfront location. There’s some type of mix-up with the supplier, and the chef is freaking out.”
“Won’t a conference call handle it?”
“Nah, this one needs a hands-on approach.”
“Fine. Tell Michael I’m on my way and I’ll report back to him later.”
“Got it.” Jim disappeared. Max shrugged on his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase. “Let me fix this and we’ll talk more later. Cover me while I’m gone.”
“Of course.”
He flew out the door and made a note to dig deeper later.
• • •
Two hours later, Carina worked her way through her paperwork pile as she manned Max’s desk. The events of the morning still bothered her, but she decided to push through and make up for it. One screwup shouldn’t make her beat herself bloody. Everyone made mistakes in the beginning—isn’t that what Max and Michael consistently told her?
She flexed her neck back and forth and tried to concentrate on the endless array of numbers filling up the computer screen. The phone buzzed.
“Yes?”
The secretary’s voice came over the phone. “Robin is here to see Max.”
“From Robin’s Organics?” she questioned.
“Yes, he says it’s urgent.”
“Send him in, please.”
The man who entered had shaggy chestnut hair, muddy brown eyes, and ruddy cheeks. He wore a red shirt with ROBIN RULES scrawled across the front, and jeans with a hole in them. Not the typical business-suited executive from one of their most important suppliers. Definitely a man who got his hands in the muck. She rose and shook his hand. “I’m Carina Conte. Max isn’t here at the moment. May I help you?”
A muscle in his eye twitched. “I have to discuss a problem with you, Ms. Conte. I hope you can help me.”
“Carina. And I’ll certainly try. Let me pull up your account with us.” She tapped a few keys and read over the history and current notes. “You’ve worked with us a while now, since La Dolce Maggie opened. Am I correct?”
“Yes. We’ve always held a solid reputation for the best organic fruit in the Hudson Valley. But we’ve been having problems with the Newburgh location. The figs and raspberries were delivered late. The chef told me this morning he’s dumping our account.”
Carina frowned. “The chef doesn’t have the final say in that—we do. Is this a first occurrence?”
He winced. “No. It’s happened a few times over the last month.”
She leaned back in her chair and studied him. Tapped her pencil against the edge of the desk. “When suppliers run late, we can’t make our pastries. That’s a serious problem.”#p#分页标题#e#
“I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to come in person and tell you what’s going on.” He cleared his throat. “My son has been driving the truck and I started him in the business. He did well for a while, he just graduated college, but lately he got involved in the wrong crowd and—” Robin broke off, then pushed on. “He’s been on drugs. Stealing money. Not doing the deliveries. I assumed everything was fine and never checked.”