The Sweetest Thing Read online

  Looking around the room her gaze rested on Quentin and Troy. The two men had been standing together in conversation when they were joined by a very attractive woman. The stunning redhead was dressed in a black silk pantsuit and designer pumps. Her thick waves were pulled back into a loose ponytail that hung down her back and showcased her porcelain complexion. There was no missing how she casually clutched Quentin’s arm or the adoring gazes she kept tossing his way. Harper couldn’t help but wonder if there was something romantic between them. Miss Alice caught her staring.

  “That’s Rachel. Don’t pay her no never mind.”

  “Excuse me?” Harper responded, feeling as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  Miss Alice pointed where Harper had been staring. “That woman you were eyeing over there with the boys. That’s Rachel Harris. Rachel is Troy’s law partner. She was also your daddy’s attorney. I’m sure she’ll come over and introduce herself in a minute. She’s had a thing for Quentin since they was kids but he don’t see it. And, if he does see it, he don’t want it!”

  Miss Alice laughed heartily. “Rachel could drop it buck naked and I don’t think Quentin would give her an ounce of his attention. I done told her time and time again Quentin is not the man for her. Neither one of them boys is. She’ll learn one day though,” Miss Alice professed.

  As if she knew she was being talked about, the woman named Rachel turned in their direction, the two brothers following on her high heels. As they reached the table Quentin pulled a seat out for Rachel to sit and moved to the other side of the table to the empty chair beside Harper. Harper smiled politely as Troy made the introductions.

  “Harper, this is Rachel Harris. Rachel, this is Pop’s daughter, Harper Donovan.”

  “We spoke on the telephone,” Rachel said, as if Harper needed to be reminded.

  Harper nodded. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss. Your father was an extraordinary man.”

  “So you say.” Harper’s response wasn’t meant to be insolent but her tone indicated that she didn’t necessarily agree. The moment was suddenly awkward.

  Caught off guard, Rachel shifted her gaze around the table. Troy shrugged as Miss Alice reached out to pat the back of Harper’s hand. Quentin’s expression was indifferent as he fought not to take offense at Harper’s attitude. Rachel turned her gaze back to Harper. “How long are you planning to stay?” she asked.

  The entire table turned to stare at her in anticipation of her answer. Harper looked from one to the other. “To be honest, I was hoping to settle my father’s estate as quickly as we can. I have a business I need to get back to.”

  “Really?” Quentin suddenly questioned, the comment capturing his attention. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a professional wedding and event planner. I’m committed to five events next month so my schedule is pretty tight.”

  “Wow! Five weddings in one month! That must be quite a successful business,” Rachel chimed, something in her tone striking a nerve with Harper.

  Her response was terse. “My business partner and I are very proud of our accomplishments,” Harper said, feeling like the redhead had just tried to insult her.

  Rachel responded with a low “humph!” and Miss Alice tossed them both a look, her eyebrows raised.

  Troy laughed. “I can’t imagine five men dumb enough to get trapped like that.”

  Miss Alice shook her head. “Just ’cause you don’t believe in holy matrimony don’t mean it ain’t right for other people.”

  “Miss Alice, do you mind my asking why you and Mr. Everett never got married?” Rachel questioned.

  “Neither one of us was the marrying kind. When we got on each other’s nerves he went his way and I went mine. It served us both well. I didn’t have to kill his old behind for acting a fool!” She laughed warmly and everyone gathered laughed with her.

  The rest of the evening, people strolled in and out enjoying the fellowship as they shared memories of Everett and his antics. Clearly, Harper thought to herself, the man who had left her and her mother behind was not the man everyone else in the room had known.

  As the crowd began to thin, Miss Alice rose from her seat to kiss and hug the last stragglers. Rachel eased into the vacated seat beside Harper. “Obviously we can review the details of your father’s will at any time. But if it’s okay with you, let’s plan to meet in my office first thing Monday morning. Tomorrow is one of the bakery’s busiest days so it’ll be hard to pin those two down. I also imagine you’re probably exhausted and I know this day hasn’t been easy for any of you. It’ll give you a little time to recover.”

  Harper nodded her head politely. “Monday will be fine. Thank you.”

  Troy and Quentin echoed her sentiments. “That’s fine. Whatever is good.”

  “Harper, please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything before then. The boys have my number,” she said. The smile she tossed Harper was syrupy sweet but Harper wasn’t impressed, finding nothing authentic about it. Rachel looked from Troy to Quentin. “Mr. Elliott, can I get you to walk me to my car, sir?”

  Quentin cut an eye toward Troy who gave him a mischievous grin.

  “She was talking to you,” Troy said, his comment directed at his brother.

  Quentin’s eyes narrowed as he tossed Troy a look back. He took a deep breath. “Not a problem,” Quentin muttered as he rose from his seat. As he eased past Harper he dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “Excuse me for a minute. I’ll be right back,” he said, neither woman missing the gesture. As she nodded in response, Harper returned the look Rachel was giving her.

  She watched as Quentin rounded the table to help Rachel into her fur-trimmed, wool coat. As she eyed them she felt something like jealousy ripple through her spirit. The sensation was unnerving and she reached for a swallow of the iced tea in her glass to stall the energy. Glancing back toward them she watched as Rachel gave Miss Alice a warm hug good-bye before she and Quentin stepped out into the late-night chill, disappearing out of sight.

  Rachel linked her arm through Quentin’s as she leaned her body against his. “How are you holding up?” she questioned as he maneuvered the way to her car.

  He cast his eyes down to look at her. “I’m fine, Rachel,” he answered, his expression stoic.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “You don’t need to be,” he said. “I really am okay.”

  They came to a stop beside her silver Cadillac XTS. Rachel nodded, pausing for a brief moment. She turned to face him, pressing her palms against his broad chest. “If you want, you can come stay with me tonight,” Rachel said. The invitation hinted at offering him more than comfort as she brushed her hand along the line of his profile, an index finger lightly brushing his lower lip.

  Quentin gently grabbed her wrists and held them. “I appreciate the offer,” he responded, “but tonight’s not a good night, Rachel.”

  “There never seems to be a good night for you, Quentin.”

  “That’s because you and I don’t have that kind of relationship!”

  “We could. I’m not saying we should get married or anything but we could be great friends with benefits,” she intoned. “You know how I feel about you. We have history, Quentin!”

  Quentin sighed. He reached for the driver’s-side door and opened it. “Please be careful going home,” he said as they locked eyes.

  There was no missing the disappointment on her face. Quentin shook his head from side to side. “I swear, Rachel. You and I have this conversation at least once a week. Can we not do this today of all days, please?”

  Rachel hesitated then nodded her head. “I didn’t mean . . .” she started.

  Quentin held up his hand to stall her comments. “Don’t worry about it.”

  A heavy silence dropped down between them. Quentin was still holding the car door open for her to get inside. He looked past her shoulder and tossed a hand up to wave
good-bye to friends who were finally heading home. Turning back to the bakery he peered through the windows, noting that nothing remained of the crowd inside Just Desserts, his staff beginning to clean up. “I need to get back inside,” he said finally.

  Rachel nodded. “Before you do, what do you think about her?”

  “What do I think about her who?” he asked, knowing full well she was referring to Harper Donovan.

  Rachel’s hand flew to her waist, her stance tightening. “Don’t play games. I was referring to Harper.”

  “I don’t think anything about her,” he said, avoiding the stare she was giving him.

  “You must have some opinion,” the woman persisted.

  “What’s your point, Rachel?” Quentin asked. “What does it matter? I’m sure once we finish settling Pop’s affairs she’ll head back to Louisiana and that’ll be it.”

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Why are you snapping at me?”

  “I wasn’t snapping,” Quentin snapped a second time.

  An air of tension replaced the awkward silence that had dropped down over them earlier. Rachel had not missed the look in Quentin’s eyes as he’d sat talking to Harper, questioning her about her business and sharing his opinion about the relationship between clients and vendors in the wedding industry. She had often wished for Quentin to look at her that way. She blew a deep sigh.

  Stepping closer to him she wrapped her arms around his waist, her head dropping to his chest. “I’m going to miss Mr. Everett,” she said, hoping to elicit some compassion from the man.

  Quentin’s head waved from side to side. “Good night, Rachel,” he said as he pushed her away, guiding her into her car. And then he turned, heading back toward the family’s business.

  “When you’re ready to go back to your hotel room just let me know,” Troy said, easing out of the silence that had dropped down onto the table inside.

  “Thank you,” Harper responded. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be a problem if I stayed upstairs in my father’s apartment.”

  Troy’s eyes darted from side to side as he pondered her request. “I don’t see why not,” he said finally. “I mean, it is yours now.”

  “I just want to start going through his things,” she said. “Maybe get to know more about him.”

  Troy nodded. “I’m sorry you never had the chance to know Pop the way we knew him. He really was a special guy.”

  Harper sighed. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”

  “How old were you the last time you saw him?”

  “Five, maybe six. He and my mother hated each other. I got caught in the middle.”

  Troy’s head continued to bob up and down against his thick neck. “If you want we can swing by the hotel, check you out, and bring your things back here.”

  “Thank you,” Harper intoned. “You’ve been very nice. I don’t think your brother likes me though.”

  Troy smiled. “That’s not true. This has just really been hard on him. Pop was the only parent he has ever known. He was four when our mother left and we never knew our father. Pop literally saved our lives.”

  Harper had already been feeling bad, but she suddenly felt even worse. Her head waved from side to side. “I am so sorry! I owe you both an apology. I really didn’t stop to think about how this was affecting the two of you. I’m usually not so self-absorbed.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. We’ll get through it. We just have to lean on each other,” Troy concluded. They both looked up as Quentin reentered the building, locking the front door behind him. The man met her stare as he walked into the room but he snatched it back just as quickly. Harper dropped her own eyes down to the table, nervous anxiety filling the pit of her stomach. Quentin moved back to the table and took a seat beside his brother. Miss Alice rejoined them.

  “So what can I do to help?” the older woman queried.

  Quentin shook his head. “Not a thing, Miss Alice. We’re all cleaned up in the kitchen. I’m going to finish up out here and then start getting ready for business tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep the bakery closed for the rest of the week?” Troy asked. “It’s only two more days.”

  “No. I need to keep busy and Pop would have a fit if we didn’t open back up for the weekend,” Quentin answered.

  “Well, it’s your decision.” Troy pushed himself up from the table. “I’m going to run Harper over to the hotel to get her things. She wants to stay upstairs while she’s here,” Troy noted.

  “In Pop’s place?” Quentin questioned, his tone voicing surprise and disapproval.

  “Is that a problem?” Harper asked.

  “No, only . . . it’s . . . I . . .” he stammered, then leaned back in his seat and said nothing.

  Troy interjected. “I’m sorry, Harper, I don’t know what I was thinking. There really isn’t any problem with your staying upstairs but since Quentin is usually here in the bakery all hours of the day and night he sometimes crashes in Pop’s guest room. I’m sure he just doesn’t want to intrude on your privacy.”

  “Not sometimes. Most of the time,” Miss Alice interjected. “Quentin don’t stay no time at all at his apartment. I still don’t know what you bought that place for. Seems like a waste of perfectly good money ’cause you sure ain’t moved out of your daddy’s house yet.”

  The two brothers shot each other a look and Troy gave Quentin a quick shrug of his shoulders.

  “It’s not a problem,” Quentin said, his jawline tightened for the umpteenth time. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Harper shook her head. “I’m not trying to cause you any inconvenience and it doesn’t make sense for you to have to figure it out. Just do what you usually do and I promise to stay out of your way.”

  “Are you sure it’s not going to be a problem?” Quentin asked as he met her gaze.

  She shook her head and smiled, her stare locked with his. “I’m sure.”

  4

  After wishing her grandmother a good night, Harper dialed Jasmine who answered on the first ring.

  “You know I need to get to bed early and you’ve kept me waiting all damn day,” her friend chimed. “Are you okay?”

  Harper smiled into the receiver. “I’m hanging in there.”

  “Did you call Mama Pearl?”

  “I did. I actually just hung up with her.”

  “Good. She was worried about you, too. How was the funeral?”

  “Depressing, but I met my father’s two sons.”

  “What?” Jasmine exclaimed.

  Harper could just imagine the expression on the woman’s face. She laughed heartily. “My father has two sons. Foster kids that he raised.”

  “I bet you were just peaches and puppies when you found out,” Jasmine said sarcastically.

  “I handled it very well actually. I didn’t foam at the mouth or spit nails.”

  “Not much you didn’t!”

  “I didn’t!”

  “So, are they younger or older than you? Are they cute? Rich? Give me the four-one-one!”

  Harper laughed again. “Older. Quentin is thirty-one and Troy is thirty-five. Both are very cute and they run my father’s bakery. Quentin is the pastry chef and Troy manages the books.”

  “How cute is very cute?”

  Harper paused, reflecting on the two men. Cute didn’t adequately describe either one of the brothers but it didn’t seem appropriate to tell her best friend that Quentin Elliott was the most delectable man she’d met in a very long time. And she definitely had no intentions of sharing that Quentin had her feeling some kind of way whenever he was near. Just thinking about him suddenly fired a ripple of heat through her feminine spirit.

  She shook her head, squeezing her pelvic muscles to stall the sensation. None of it made an ounce of sense to her. She wasn’t even sure she liked the man, his prickly personality not overly encouraging. He had barely cracked one smile since they’d met and if it hadn’t been for the one or two questions he’d asked
about her business, she would have sworn he’d already written off getting to know her. But then she’d caught him looking at her and his stare had fired her nerve endings.

  She had no business lusting after a man she’d just met and definitely not at the funeral of the man they both considered a father. Her grandmother would have been mortified. Mama Pearl had not raised her to be so scandalous. This was almost as bad as when her own mother, Janie, had pulled Ben Flattery aside at his wife’s funeral, intoning that if he ever needed “anything” all he had to do was call. Janie had completely ignored the fact that everyone could see where her hands were resting as she did. The memory reminded Harper of all the other reasons she despised funerals.

  She finally responded. “They’re nothing special.”

  “Okay, what are you not telling me?” Jasmine questioned, knowing her all too well.

  “I’ve told you everything, Jasmine. They both seem very nice. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  “Uh-huh,” her friend said, nodding into the receiver as if Harper could see her. “So can you hook a sister up?”

  “Desperate much?”

  “I’m not desperate at all. In fact, I have a date this weekend, so there!”

  “A date? With who?”

  “Mike Something-or-other. He’s Pastor Hill’s nephew’s cousin’s son from Atlanta, coming in for the Saxton wedding.”

  “And you have a date with him?”

  “Yep! We plan to hang out on Sunday.”

  “Have you even seen him?”

  “No, but he sounds like a dream come true over the telephone. His voice is so damn sexy he made me cream in my panties just saying hello.”

  “You are so nasty!” Harper exclaimed.

  Jasmine laughed with her. “On a serious note, the band cancelled for the Moore party next month.”

  Harper tapped her palm against her forehead in frustration. “No, no, no! That’s not good. She insisted on that band. She said they were her husband’s favorite.”