The Sweetest Thing Read online

  Quentin undid the buttons on his chef’s coat, pulled his arms out of it, and tossed it into the front closet. Exhaustion had finally caught up with him and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. Troy had shown up earlier than anticipated and with his brother holding it down he knew their family’s business was in good hands.

  Miss Alice had surprised them during the lunch hour, dropping in to check how they were all doing. After they had all feasted on specially made sandwiches of rich brioche bread, grilled chicken, cheese, and fresh avocado, she’d insisted on taking Harper shopping for some warmer winter clothes. Troy had teased him unmercifully as he’d stared after the two women.

  “I hear you and Harper are getting along nicely,” Troy said.

  Quentin shrugged his broad shoulders. “We don’t have any reason not to get along,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “I think you like her.”

  He cut an eye at his big brother, not bothering to respond.

  “I think you like her a lot,” Troy stated.

  Quentin shook his head. “It’s not like that. We just have a lot in common and she’s just been a really good sport about things.”

  “Okay,” Troy said, giving him a look.

  “It’s not like that,” Quentin insisted.

  “Not like what?”

  “Like what you’re trying to insinuate.”

  “I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything.”

  Quentin flipped a dismissive hand at his brother as he continued to pack cookies into their signature food bags.

  Troy changed the subject. “Rachel called me earlier.”

  Quentin rolled his eyes. “Why do you keep entertaining her nonsense?”

  “I’m not entertaining anything. I just gave my business partner and family friend a shoulder to cry on. She was very disappointed you didn’t go home with her last night.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Not in so many words but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines.”

  “When you consider all the time you two spend together, I don’t know why she doesn’t fixate on you instead of me.”

  “You’re nicer than I am. She knows if either one of us is going to settle down sooner than later it would be you.”

  “I don’t know about all that.”

  Troy shrugged. “Pop was the one who said it. I was just repeating it.”

  Quentin smirked ever so slightly. “Whatever.”

  Troy rose from his seat, the rear office his destination. He tossed his brother a look over his shoulder. “Rachel said she saw how you were looking at that woman.”

  “Rachel doesn’t have an ounce of good sense!”

  Troy laughed. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I saw how you were looking at Harper too, and so did everyone else,” he said. “I’m just saying!”

  Before Quentin could respond Troy disappeared from his view. Reflecting back Quentin shook his head. He hated admitting that Troy and the others were right. He had been looking at her. And he couldn’t seem to get Harper out of his thoughts. The funeral had been difficult enough and suddenly having her there in their space was even harder and for the reasons he would never have imagined.

  He’d realized quickly that she was hurting just as much as he and Troy were. Maybe even more because she’d not been blessed to have had Pop be a father to her the way the old man had been a parent to them. So after dropping his reservations, melting some of the initial tension between them, he’d been able to open himself to knowing her better. He was quickly discovering that there was much about Harper Donovan that he liked. There was also much about Harper Donovan that was testing his sensibilities. Harper excited him and despite wanting to resist the feelings, he was instead intrigued by them because no woman before her had ever had him feeling so enlivened.

  He suddenly yawned, stretching his body lengthwise. The upstairs was warmer than normal, the heat from the ovens below adding to the temperature. Dressed in nothing but a T-shirt and denim jeans, he pulled the shirt over his head, tossed it to the floor, and dropped his body down on the living-room sofa. He untied his boots and kicked them and his socks off his feet.

  It was hot and without giving it a second thought he stood back up, unzipped his pants, pushed them over his hips, and stepped out of them. Dropping back down, he leaned his torso against the plush pillows and stretched out his limbs. He only needed a quick nap. He reasoned that he had more than enough time to get back into his clothes before Miss Alice returned Harper to their home.

  As he thought about the woman again a smile crossed his face. There was something about Harper that suddenly had him questioning every aspect of his life: trying to figure out what it was he was missing, what it was he needed, and why it was so important for him to figure out now.

  At the memory of her standing in the doorway, her seductive attire teasing every one of his senses, his member hardened into a rod of steel. He slipped both of his hands past the waistband of his briefs. One hand wrapped warmly around the length of his manhood and gently stroked it. The other cupped his testicles, his fingertips teasing the tight flesh. His blood was surging and he was enjoying every sensation that was sweeping through his body. Fondling himself felt too, too good and all he could imagine was what it might be like if it were Harper’s touch and Harper’s hands and Harper’s body that were bringing him to ecstasy.

  But it wasn’t Harper and he had no business thinking of her like that. He blew a deep sigh. It took every ounce of energy he had remaining to stop doing what he was doing, unable to fathom an outcome that didn’t include Harper lying by his side.

  His breathing was heavy and labored and when he was finally able to catch his breath, his temperature dropping back to a semblance of normal, he rolled over onto his side, pressing his face into the pillows. Minutes later, unable to resist a second longer, Quentin fell into a restful slumber, images of Harper pulling him into his dreams.

  Harper couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so thoroughly entertained. Miss Alice had kept her laughing from the moment the two women had stepped out onto Beale Street until the moment they returned.

  Miss Alice had regaled her with stories about her father and about Quentin and Troy. “Don’t turn your back on them two scamps!” she’d cajoled. “They like to play practical jokes. You can’t trust ’em, especially when they get real serious-like. That only means that they up to something.”

  At the end of their afternoon together Harper had learned a few family secrets and had come back with a warmer jacket, a few sweaters, and four pairs of designer shoes that would not serve her well at all if indeed it did ever snow. By the time Miss Alice dropped her off in front of the bakery all she wanted was something hot to drink, another one of those chocolate cookies, and a nap.

  “Hey there,” she chimed as she passed through the kitchen.

  Troy tossed up a hand in greeting. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m doing really well. What about you?”

  He nodded with her. “I can’t complain.”

  “Are you sure about that? You seem to be holding up really well but how much is that for everyone else?”

  “I’ve had my moments,” Troy said with a nod of his head, “but I try not to let anyone see them.”

  “It’s not a bad thing if you do.”

  “I know, but I’ve always had to be the strong one for Quentin, even when Pop was there to be strong for the two of us. It’s hard to come out of big-brother mode, especially during a time like this.”

  “I didn’t grow up with any siblings but I think I get it,” she said with a soft smile. “So where is that brother of yours?”

  Troy pointed toward the second floor. “In the guest bed probably. I don’t think he’s slept at all this week.”

  She nodded. “I’ll make sure I don’t disturb him,” she said. “I think I’m going to go get a nap myself.”

  Troy nodded. “I’m sure I’ll still be here when you wake up,” he said. “I’m behind
on the paperwork and the quarterly taxes need to be paid.”

  “I’ll get out of your way, too.”

  “Get some rest. We can do dinner later when you two are up and feeling better.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said as she maneuvered herself and her bags up the back stairwell.

  Closing and locking the door behind her Harper eased her way through the entrance foyer. She heard Quentin before she saw him, his deep snores vibrating through the home. She navigated her way to the family living space and peeked into the room. Sprawled across the living-room sofa, Quentin lay with one leg tossed up and resting against the back of the sofa. The other rested on the floor. There were pillows supporting his back and his head was tossed back, wedged in an awkward angle between those pillows and the sofa’s side. One arm was folded over his eyes and forehead and the other hand was cupped between his legs.

  Harper stood staring, completely awed by the beauty of him. His bare chest was broad and muscular, the sinewy tissue clearly defined and smooth as a baby’s butt. His abdomen showcased some serious hard work in the near-perfect six-pack he’d clearly spent some time working on. His legs were strong and sturdy, like the solid limbs of an ancient tree. And he had very big feet. Combined with his more-cream-than-coffee complexion, he was male perfection in all of its glory. Her gaze moved back to the hand between his legs, the mere thought of what might be hiding beneath his large palm heating her senses.

  Heat coursed out of control through Harper’s body. She suddenly had an overwhelming desire to strip naked, to feel his skin pressed tight against her skin. Harper was suddenly shaking, her body almost convulsing at the sheer thought of how pleasurable that might be. She turned abruptly and headed into her father’s bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Dropping her bags to the floor she pulled off her coat then took a seat against the edge of the bed. Her breathing was heavy, coming in quick gasps as she struggled to take in oxygen. Her thighs were pressed together like a vise was locked around them, her buttocks clenched tightly. She cupped her hand over her mouth, a smile fighting to steal past her fingers. She shook her head, trying to fight off the overwhelming sensations as she took one deep breath and then another.

  Harper stood up, sat back down, and then stood up a second time. Her eyes widened. She took another deep breath, a wide grin lifting her full lips. Reaching for her handbag she dug through the contents for her iPad. Tiptoeing back into the family room she eased her way to Quentin’s side and engaged the camera feature on the device. A series of photographs later Harper crawled beneath the covers of the king-size bed and pulled the sheets up over her naked body.

  One by one she flipped through the images she’d taken of Quentin. For a brief moment she considered deleting them but changed her mind as she continued to salivate over just how beautiful the man was. The more she stared, the more Harper became carried away.

  She drew her hand across her breasts, her fingertips gliding past her belly button. Her back arched when she touched herself, her fingers moving between her slender legs. Harper was desperate for release as her hand danced against her heated flesh. She bit down against her bottom lip to keep from screaming out Quentin’s name, because she wanted to scream and his name was on the tip of her tongue. But fantasizing about Quentin’s hands and his touch wasn’t enough. She suddenly clasped her legs together tightly, clenching her hands into tight fists at her sides, fighting to stall the rise of desire that was sweeping through her.

  She sucked in air, one deep breath and then a second, before turning onto her side. She took one last look at the screen image of Quentin, then powered off the device. As deep sleep overcame her, her last thoughts centered on him, her imagination fueling her dreams. Closing her eyes she slowly drifted off to sleep, wondering if Quentin could ever be persuaded to make her wanton fantasies come true. The prayer was on her lips as unconsciousness finally took her.

  6

  Harper awoke with a start. At first, she was totally disoriented, naked and shivering atop the mattress, the covers lost somewhere on the floor. Then, like a spring flood, the memories all came back to her. She looked for her iPad, the appliance having fallen to the carpeted floor and just as she reached for it, there was a heavy rapping at the bedroom door. She sat upright, thinking of the last time she’d swung it open. She grinned, suddenly wondering what Quentin might do if she repeated the encounter wearing only her birthday suit.

  Tempted by the possibilities, Harper rose from the bed. As she took a step toward the door, the knock came a second time. But this time it was Troy’s voice that called her name, asking if she were interested in dinner. Her disappointment was telling, painting her expression. She was grateful that he couldn’t see her face.

  “Thanks, Troy,” she called back, the door still closed between them.

  “As soon as you’re ready then, we can eat,” the man answered.

  Troy moved back down the hallway and returned to the kitchen. The beginnings of a late-night meal dressed the countertop and table: sliced onions, celery, and mushrooms filling a large bowl.

  As Troy searched the refrigerator, Quentin joined his brother in the kitchen, finally showered and dressed. A quick glance passed between the two men as Troy dropped pasta into a pot of boiling water. The decadent aroma of a highly seasoned cream sauce simmered in a saucepan.

  “Feeling better?” Troy asked.

  Quentin nodded. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, still not believing that it was already after ten o’clock. His brother had closed the bakery hours ago and was prepping their evening meal. Had Troy not wakened him he would probably still be asleep.

  “What time did she get back?” Quentin questioned, gesturing toward the upstairs bedroom. His voice was just a hint above a whisper.

  “Before six, I think. The crew was just starting the evening cleanup.”

  Quentin shook his head. “I can’t believe I fell asleep on the couch.”

  “And naked!” Troy added.

  Quentin laughed. “I wasn’t naked.”

  “You were lying around in your drawers. You were naked,” his brother said with his own chuckle.

  “Do you think she saw me? I mean, she really didn’t have any reason to go in there, right?”

  “She saw you.”

  Quentin shook his head, heat flaming his cheeks at the thought. “I don’t think so. She probably just went right up to Pop’s room and passed out. She didn’t see me!” he said, his tone hopeful.

  Just then Harper entered the room. “I saw you,” she said nonchalantly, tossing Troy a wink of her eye. “You were practically buck naked.”

  Troy laughed heartily.

  Quentin tossed her a snarl. “I was not naked!” he exclaimed.

  “Well, I liked your tighty-whities,” she said as she took the seat opposite him. “So much so I took a picture of them for posterity.” She leaned back, meeting his gaze.

  Troy pointed a finger at his brother and busted out laughing a second time. “I want copies,” he said teasingly.

  Quentin shook his head. “You did not take my picture,” he said, his teeth clenched.

  Harper smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Okay. If you say so, I did not take your picture.”

  He leaned across the table, his index finger waving in her face. “You better not have taken my picture!”

  Harper’s smile was wide and bright. “Okay!”

  “I mean it, Harper!”

  “I said okay!” she intoned, still grinning.

  Quentin shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, pretending to throw a tantrum. “I saw Harper naked this morning,” he said, shifting his eyes to look at Troy. “She opened the door and she was naked.” He stuck his tongue out at her, his own eyebrows arched sky high.

  Harper laughed, her eyes widening. “I was not naked. I just wasn’t fully dressed.”

  “Neither was I!”

  Troy shook his head as he placed a p
latter of fettuccine and a bowl of salad onto the table. “Do I need to move in here to chaperone you two? There’s a whole lot of seeing each other naked going on! Wait until I tell Miss Alice!”

  “Don’t you dare!” both Quentin and Harper chimed at the same time and laughter rang harmoniously through the room.

  Harper didn’t have a clue what time it was but she knew it was late. The trio had laughed and teased each other until almost two o’clock in the morning when Troy insisted he was going home to his own bed. She and Quentin walked him down and out to his car and as he pulled off, the first hint of winter started to fall from the sky.

  “Do you see that?” Quentin questioned.

  “See what?”

  “That,” he answered, pointing toward the sky.

  Harper looked up and the first flakes of new snow fell against her face. She smiled. “And?”

  “And it’s snowing! I told you I know what I’m talking about!” He laughed.

  Shaking her head Harper let him have his moment before she commented. “It’ll be gone by morning, I’m sure.”

  Before heading back up to the apartment, neither could resist sneaking into the sealed cookie container, filling a plate. Back upstairs, Quentin poured two large glasses of milk for them to drink with their treats.

  “What time do you have to start baking?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’ll prep a half batch of croissants in a little bit, but I’m thinking we won’t have a crowd tomorrow. If it snows like I think it will we probably won’t be open long. The city will shut down and except for an occasional walker who might pop in to get warm no one will be out.”

  She shook her head, her expression disbelieving. “Quentin, not to burst your bubble, but this is Memphis.”

  “Your point?”

  “It doesn’t snow in Memphis!”

  He laughed. “You’ll see!”

  The two talked for another hour before Quentin went back downstairs to work and Harper headed to bed. The conversation had been easy and light-hearted and both had enjoyed it immensely.