Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (20 page)

“Oh, my
God
.” Polly laughed and draped her arms around his shoulders again. “You are such a cynic. You’re going to be one of those old curmudgeons sitting on your front porch, shaking your fist and yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off your lawn.”

“Good thing I met you first then, huh?” Luke brushed his thumb rhythmically across her collarbone. “Maybe you can save me from that fate.”

“As long as I’m on your schedule,” she murmured, “I’ll save you.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. As they indulged in another long kiss, she felt as if she were spiraling upward into sugar-laced clouds, her whole being filling with sweetness, rainbow sprinkles, and an emotion that felt remarkably close to happiness.

DESPITE THE FACT THAT POLLY
hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, she sailed right through her test on aerated confections and nougat, successfully completed a pectin jelly exercise in her Jellies and Gummies lab, and learned about two new tax exemptions she could claim in her tax preparation class.

By the time she arrived at Wild Child to take over the afternoon shift from Clementine, she was feeling both productive and still all loosely warm from her night with Luke. She was sore in an entirely pleasant way, and it seemed as if thick, rich honey had replaced the blood in her veins. Not to mention her mind kept drifting off to replay the taste of his hot cherry-vanilla kisses, the glide of his big hands over her skin—

“You could take him to the Renaissance Fair.” Mia held up her cell phone triumphantly, waving it at Polly from a table where she was sitting with Ramona and Tom. “Now that is a man I’d love to see decked out in velvet breeches and a waistcoat.”

Polly tried to picture it and failed. The images of Luke in her head were all about crisp, tailored suits or just his long, muscular body stretched out above her . . .

She shivered, pressing her legs together and trying to focus on filling éclair shells with chocolate cream. Though she would happily jump right back into bed with him for the rest of the weekend, she did want them to have some fun that wasn’t sex-related.

“There’s a UFO meet-up and watch in Davis next Monday,” Tom offered.

“Or you could bring him to my fortune-telling group on Friday.” Ramona flicked one of her dreadlocks over her shoulder.

“Maybe you could get his-and-her massages,” Mia suggested. “Or take him for a spa day. Soothe in Indigo Bay gives detoxification baths using mud from a volcano in Cartagena.”

“Luke could just fly to Cartagena and go skinny-dipping in the volcano, if he wanted to.” Polly spooned more cream into the pastry bag. “Besides, I have to do things that don’t cost too much since I don’t want him to both advise me about the bakery and pay for dates, especially since
dating
was my idea. I thought I’d take him to the Snowflake Club for the Riders concert on Saturday night.”

Mia looked doubtful. “Snowflake skews a little young for him, doesn’t it?”

“He’s thirty-three, not fifty-three,” Polly said, vaguely insulted on Luke’s behalf.

“I’m just saying you might want to consider something more sophisticated.” Mia rose and approached the display cases, peering at the rather sparse offerings.

“He’s the sophisticated one, remember? I’ll bet he hasn’t been to a club in ages.”

“Neither have you,” Mia reminded her.

True. But this whole thing with Luke had started as a way for her to get back out into the world, and she was doing exactly that. So good for her.

Her phone buzzed, and she took it out of her apron pocket. A text lit up the screen:

L. STONE:
How did the CEO feel without his peach?

POLLY:
Hungry?

L. STONE:
PIT-iful.

POLLY:
I have to break up with you now.

L. STONE:
I’d never sign off on that request.

POLLY:
Are you at work?

L. STONE:
In a board meeting.

POLLY:
And you’re texting me?

L. STONE:
Under the table.

POLLY:
Omg. I’ve made it to the boardroom under the table. Maybe next time I’ll make it into your lap.

L. STONE:
Any time you want. My lap is reserved for you.

“Earth to Pols.” Mia waved her hand in front of Polly’s face. “You’re out of doughnut holes.”

“Oh, sorry.” Polly slipped her phone back into her pocket and refocused on the empty baskets. “I’ll fry you up a batch. Can you watch the counter?”

Mia went around the counter to wait for non-existent customers while Polly returned to the kitchen. She grabbed a bowl of dough and dropped spoonfuls into the fryer. As she waited for the dough to crisp, she indulged in a memory of Luke’s fingers trailing down her spine, as if he were memorizing each of her vertebrae while he pressed his lips to the hot hollow of her throat and . . .

She jerked herself back to attention and fished the doughnut holes out of the fryer. After draining them and sprinkling them with powdered sugar, she brought them out to Mia.

“Yum, thanks.” Mia plucked a doughnut hole out of the basket and bit into it. Her eyebrows rose. “Wow. What did you do differently?”

“What do you mean?” Polly put a few on a plate and brought it over to Ramona and Tom.

“New recipe?” Mia indicated the doughnut hole as she chewed.

“No.” Polly frowned. “Why? Do they taste different?”

“Yeah, they’re better, actually. Lighter.”

“It’s just the regular batter.” She selected one for herself and took a bite.

A crisp, sweet flavor flooded over her tongue alongside a light airiness that reminded her of the
pâte à choux
dough for éclairs rather than doughnut batter.

“Wait a second.” Polly went into the kitchen and peered into the stainless steel bowl sitting beside the deep fryer.

Well, that explained it. How had she not noticed she was frying the wrong dough?

Because you were too busy remembering Luke Stone ravishing your body.

Any girl in the world was entitled to a free pass for making a mistake while thinking about getting hot and heavy with CEO Stone.

“I used the wrong dough,” she explained, returning to the front counter. “That was the
pâte à choux
I fried, not the doughnut batter.”

“Happy accident.” Ramona reached for another one. “You should sell these too.”

“I’ve used similar dough for French crullers,” Polly said, “but those are ring-shaped like actual doughnuts.”

She put the bowl on the counter next to the pastry bag and the tray of éclairs she’d been filling. Out of curiosity, she picked up one of the fried éclair balls and piped a bit of custard into the center before popping it into her mouth.

Wow. Her senses exploded with the taste of rich, creamy chocolate combined with the crisp airiness of the pastry.

“Try this.” She filled more of the fried éclairs with custard and handed them to Mia, Ramona, and Tom.

All three ate the confections, their eyes growing wide with appreciation and surprise.

“Delicious.”

“Amazing.”

“A little eggy,” Mia remarked. “But if you tweak the recipe, you’ll be on to something.”

The wind chimes over the door jingled. Polly’s heart gave a little leap at the thought that Luke might be coming to pay her a visit. Instead what looked like a geeky special ops force entered.

The five men were dressed in black trousers and black polo shirts bearing an insignia on the breast, and one of them—a tall, square-jawed guy with glasses who wore an impassive expression—was carrying a tablet and a briefcase.

“Polly Lockhart?” He extended a business card. “Gavin Knight, Knight Security. Luke Stone asked us to conduct a security risk assessment of your establishment.”

The men behind him were already skulking around, checking the door locks and windows and muttering to each other.

“Go ahead.” Polly took the card with a slight sigh.

She really didn’t want to be indebted to Luke any more than she already was, but damn the man for being
right.
Wild Child had needed a security upgrade for months now. Heck, it had needed
security
.

“We’ll need access to your computer later today.” Gavin Knight removed his glasses to peer at her with penetrating blue eyes. “We’ll start with the physical assessment.”

“Sounds fun,” Mia remarked.

Gavin Knight regarded her blankly. “Are you an employee here, ma’am?”

“No, sir.” Mia slid her gaze over the security guy’s rather broad shoulders. “But I am a
miss,
not a ma’am.
”

Polly threw her friend a “really with the flirting?” look.

Mia shrugged and mouthed,
“I’m bored.”

Gavin returned his expressionless gaze to Polly. “Ms. Lockhart, we’d also like a list of your employees to assess staffing security levels.”

“I only have one employee,” she said. “I assure you she possesses a
zero threat
security level.”

“We still need her information, ma’am.”

“She’ll be in tomorrow morning, if you want to talk to her yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gavin Knight gave Polly a short nod before setting his briefcase on a table and opening it to reveal a high-tech laptop.

“Can I offer any of you some coffee?” Polly asked.

“No, thank you, ma’am. We’re here to work.”

She left them to it. Mia, Tom, and Ramona polished off the rest of the fried éclair balls and gave Polly their opinions on what the pastry needed to make the launch from
delicious
to
out of this world.

As the security team continued to work, Polly went back to the kitchen to experiment with the
pâte à choux
she normally used for the éclairs. She tested and fried several recipes, then put each batch on a separate plate and filled them with the chocolate custard.

She brought the plates to the front counter. Tom had left, but Ramona was conducting a tarot card reading for Mia.

“Attention, please, gentlemen,” Polly called to the security guys who were still prowling around the bakery, writing on their notepads, inputting things into the laptop, and still doing a great deal of muttering. “Since you’re all experts on assessment, I’d like you to assess these different pastry recipes, please.”

The men looked up, glancing from her to their leader, Gavin. He frowned.

“We don’t offer pastry assessments, ma’am.”

“You can start now.” Polly nudged one of the plates toward a blond man who was crouched beneath the cash register, fiddling with the wires. “Just taste them and tell me which one you like best.”

With an audible sigh, Gavin nodded at his team. The men approached the counter and sampled the different offerings, making noises in their throats and looking up at the ceiling as they chewed, swallowed, and assessed.

“This one.” The blond guy pointed at the first plate. “Light, airy, and rich without being overly sweet.”

“Agreed,” another dark-haired man said. “Nice chocolate flavor too.”

“Two is a little saltier,” a third man remarked. “The extra salt pairs well with the chocolate, but the first one is crisper. I’d go with one too.”

Polly marked three votes for the first plate as Mia and Ramona came over to sample and offer their opinions. After more discussion, they agreed that number one was the winner.

“Mr. Knight?” Polly gestured to the plates.

Looking faintly irritated, Gavin stood up from the laptop and came to taste the different pastries. Unlike the other men, he wasn’t quite as methodical, eating them in swift succession before nodding at the now-empty plate number one.

“Agreed,” he said. “Number one. Back to work, men.”

The security team dispersed and resumed their tasks. Gavin picked up a napkin to wipe the chocolate off his mouth.

“Are they cream puffs?” he asked.

“They look like hot security guys to me,” Mia remarked, eyeing the blond man.

Polly grinned. Gavin Knight did not.

“I mean these.” He gestured to the remaining pastries.

“They’re a combined doughnut and éclair,” Polly explained. “I invented them by mistake.”

“Do you sell them?”

“Not yet.”

“Best cream puff I’ve had in a while,” Gavin remarked, before adding in a deadpan tone, “I do declare.”