Company Ink (2 page)

“Here’s our girl.” Her boss beamed. “Violet, show Ben how you ice a nine-inch, three-layer cake in less than four minutes.”

Ben gave Violet an interested smile. “Less than four minutes?”

“Care to time me?” She pulled a stopwatch from beneath the counter. While part of her couldn’t wait to show off, another part of her prayed she wouldn’t stare the hot general manager in the face and drop the cake.

He took the stopwatch from Violet and glanced toward Wynne. “She’s confident, I’ll give her that.”

Wynne nodded with a proud smile. “Watch her.”

“Go ahead, Ben,” Violet pressed with a smile that may have been more flirtatious than she intended. “Start the clock.”

“Don’t you want to set up first?”

She shook her head but stood close to the cooling rack with her hands reaching for a large metal sheet pan, on which sat three vanilla cake layers . He regarded her with a mischievous grin as he clicked the stopwatch. Without a word, she slipped on a pair of food-safe, latex gloves and went to work, her motions fluid and quick as she grabbed the sheet pan that held all the cooled cake layers and placed it on the counter in front of her. She then grabbed a decorating turntable, a bucket of chocolate buttercream, and a fresh icing wand. On top of the turntable, she placed a cardboard cake round, then a doily, and then a dollop of icing followed by a cake layer. The turntable spun beneath her expert hands as she continued.

Icing, cake layer, icing—she felt eyes on her from all around, but it didn’t sway her concentration. She swirled, smoothed, and swiped until her cake was a delicious tower of vanilla and chocolate flavors. With a final flourish, she looked up. People watching from the display window smiled, nodding and gesturing their admiration from outside. She looked to Ben, who gave her an impressed grin as he stopped the stopwatch.

“Three minutes,” he remarked, although she suspected he was trying hard to avoid sounding too enthusiastic. “That’s amazing. And it looks beautiful. How long did it take for you to learn that?”

“The technique? Not long. But I’ve been baking and decorating for pretty much my whole life, so this all comes naturally to me.”

Wynne patted Violet’s shoulder affectionately. “I have to get down to the office to check in on that paperwork. Why don’t you and Ben spend a little time together? You can show him the ropes.”

Violet stripped off her gloves and placed her hands on the counter, dropping her head as she stifled a giggle. Rope-showing techniques definitely came to mind, though none of them had anything to do with decorating cakes. Brushing those thoughts aside, she simply nodded in response and grabbed another set of cake layers that had finished cooling and were ready for icing.

When she faced Ben, she noticed he was examining the cake closely. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she ended up being rewarded with a dizzying whiff of his cologne. The smell of Encounter by Calvin Klein filled her nostrils, and her eyes closed involuntarily. He remained in position as he looked over the cake and muttered compliments, totally unaware of the effect he was having on her. And when his arms brushed against her, butterflies rose in her tummy as pure electricity passed between them.

His body went rigid, and he leaned in ever so slightly.

He must have felt it too.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she thought she heard Ben inhale.

“You smell like cupcakes,” he said, looking down at her with a spark of lust in his eyes.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. Violet became very aware of the fact that he was watching her mouth.
Am I wearing gloss today
? she wondered wildly as they remained frozen in place. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a couple of onlookers watching through the window with both delighted and scandalized expressions. Forcing herself back to reality, she cleared her throat and focused on the cake she’d just iced.

“Yeah, well,” she answered, “like I said, I’ve been baking forever. I guess my skin eventually absorbed a little batter.”

Ben forced a laugh, and Violet followed suit to lighten the mood, all the while silently begging for someone, anyone, to come over and get involved in the conversation. How the hell was she supposed to train this human tower of sexy without getting distracted by his crystal-blue eyes and the fact that he looked absolutely edible in casual dress?

“Maybe we should start with cupcakes,” she continued. “They’re just over here … ”

She pivoted to the left at the exact same time he pivoted to the right; an awkward moment of silence extended between them as they were caught standing kissably close for the second time in less than five minutes. Violet thought herself a tall girl at five-foot-nine and a half; Ben towered over her in a way that she’d never quite been exposed to before, and it was unnerving. Refusing to meet his eyes, she ended up staring at his chest. Her heart thumped madly; she hadn’t realized he’d removed his tie. A button had come undone, revealing a sprinkling of hair and a peek at his strong chest. She glanced upward through her eyelashes and realized that not only were Ben’s eyes on her again, but he looked as flustered as she was.

I have no time in my life to get distracted by you, Ben Preston,
she sighed inwardly.
This guy can’t be the reason I let myself down.

She took a step back. “How about you grab an apron from downstairs? Make sure you put on a hat or a hairnet.”

“Yeah, good idea. I’ll be right back, Violet.”

She gripped the counter for dear life as her knees went weak at the sound of his voice practically crooning her name. Day one with the new general manager was already proving to be a disaster—she’d known Ben less than an hour and already wanted to slather him in buttercream. She pressed her hand against her forehead, only to groan when she realized that not only did she slap a small glob of icing onto her face, but she’d also need to change gloves again.

• • •

Ben came home to an empty apartment and his landline ringing off the hook. He dropped his jacket on the floor and strode to the corner of the floor where his phone sat. He checked the caller ID, then scoffed as he picked up.

“You know I have a cell phone, right?”

“I tried your cell phone earlier; it kept going straight to voicemail,” a young female said. “Mom was afraid you committed suicide.”

Ben sighed, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down to sit. “I’m sure Elena would like that. We’re still technically married, so she’d get everything.”

“Seriously, bro. How are you?”

He smiled to himself as he imagined his sister, Lisa, sitting cross-legged on his mother’s couch with a worried look on her face. She was nearly ten years younger but very protective of him and, in many ways, one of his closest friends despite their age difference.

“Really, Lis, I’m fine. And how are you? Still living at home, I see,” he teased.

“Hey, back off. I’m in college and working. Mom’s not getting rid of me until I’ve got my master’s.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you’re at any risk of Mom throwing you out anyway. You’re the best cook in the house.”

“How about you? It’s been weeks. Are you moving back home or what?”

“I’m staying here in the city. I decided I’m not going to let Elena run me out of here. This is my place, my money paid for it.”

Lisa was silent for a moment. “Ben, she came by today.”

The news startled him; he pushed off the wall and sat straight up. “She went to the house? What the hell for?”

“She came over to say goodbye apparently, or that’s what she wanted us to believe. She had tears in her eyes, parting gifts, and everything.”

“Well, she’s got the award for best actress in the bag.”

“She definitely does. But,” Lisa paused again, “that wasn’t all she said.”

He let out a sigh. “I’m not gonna like this. All right, what did she say?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad. You don’t need any more stress … ”

“Lis, there’s no way that anything involving Elena isn’t going to piss me off, okay? So just spit it out.”

“Fine, fine. She was also telling us that you’re mentally disturbed and you’d been emotionally abusive the entire time you two were together.”

Speechless, Ben felt his blood begin to boil immediately. All those times he’d come home with flowers and woke up the next day to find them in the garbage. After a while, Elena never let him touch her and often coordinated her returns home with times she knew he’d be asleep. All the lies, all the tricks—what it came down to, ultimately, was that Elena played him for a fool. His head began to throb; he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ben?”

“What did Mom say? Why did you actually call me?”

“I called to make sure you were okay, I swear!”

He could feel the bile rising in his throat. “Do you actually believe her?”

“No, I know she’s lying,” Lisa insisted, “but Mom sort of ate it up. Elena told her that you threatened to kill yourself if she didn’t come back.”

“Shit, are you serious?”

“I managed to calm Mom down after she left, but she’s worried about you. She’s afraid you’re gonna hurt either yourself or Elena.”

Ben’s head dropped as he clutched the phone tightly. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Bro, I know she’s lying. And I’m sure Mom knows, deep down, that Elena’s full of crap. But you gotta be careful. I don’t know, but I think that piece of trash is out for blood.”

“I just wanna get on with my life.”

His statement was met with silence; he knew his sister didn’t know what to say. Then again, he didn’t expect her to. No one expected this bomb his soon-to-be ex had dropped on him, not even Lisa, who, from day one, always seemed a little put out by his ex-wife’s presence. And Elena’s proverbial kick to the groin had been more than he was prepared to deal with, at least for tonight. Suddenly, the news of a new job and an unexpected spark of attraction with someone seemed like nonsense.

“Look, I’ve gotta go,” he said. “But you should come out and spend some time with me. Give me a couple of weeks to furnish my place again, and you’ll see I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. But okay. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, good night.”

He hung up the phone and trudged toward the master bedroom, where a raised air mattress sat waiting for him. He stopped at the fridge for the last beer before finally calling it a night. In the bare walls of his bedroom, he kicked off his shoes and pushed them against the far wall, where the dresser once stood. Placing the beer bottle on the floor next to the mattress, he pulled his shirt off and hung it on one of the ten hangers Elena had left in the closet. The emptiness of the room contributed to the lousy feeling that radiated through his body, but tomorrow would be a new day. Sleep might take hours at this point, but the beer would at least help get Elena out of his head.

• • •

Violet sat sideways on the couch next to her best friend, Ella. It was a rare weekend; they were finally taking a Saturday to stay home in their pajamas with a bottle of wine and a couple of John Hughes flicks.

“So tell me all about this new general manager! Where did he come from?”

Violet ran her hands down her face with a flustered giggle. “Damned if I know! But he’s so much yum, I can’t stand it.”

“It’s been way too long. Steve almost broke you, girl.”

Violet let out a sigh of agreement. From ages fourteen to eighteen, Violet had been absolutely smitten with the adorable football player. Even as a teenager, he had a type of definition to his body that would have made men twice his age jealous. They had always been friends but, despite how much she liked him, she was never able to build up the courage to tell him. And though she landed her first boyfriend at sixteen, she’d still crushed. High school ended, her relationship ended, and she never stopped dreaming about Quarterback Steve.

But their paths hadn’t crossed again until Violet was wrapping up an associate’s degree in business management and looking for a new adventure. On a whim, she signed up with her high school alumni association as part of her internship requirements. It was during an alumni mixer that she ran into Steve. He was pouring himself a Scotch and soda; she was working the hors d’oeuvre table.

He was starting a career with the coaching staff of the New York Jets at just twenty-one. And at twenty, she knew he was everything she wanted in a guy. But their love didn’t last, and an unhealthy obsession made him hard to quit. The level of drama over the six years they were together left her heartbroken, nearly financially broken, and inexplicably damaged. And while she’d felt unable to trust or rely on the opposite sex, she knew the experience had left her stronger, even though she was technically still healing. That was when Violet decided to use the rest of her grandmother’s money to do what she should have done from the beginning. She threw herself into culinary arts and restaurant management—and piles of pastry flour and batches of marzipan quite literally brought her back to life.

She looked to Ella with a smile. “I haven’t actually crushed in a long time. It feels nice.”

“You certainly were the crush queen.” Ella laughed. “But it’s nice to see you back. You’re gonna go for it, right?”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s my manager!”

“There’s nothing wrong with dipping your pen in the company ink!”

Violet shook her head, standing up to pour herself another glass of wine. “No, sweetie, everything is wrong with dipping in the … ugh, I don’t even want to say it!”

“Come on, Vi! What harm can it do?”

Violet let out an exasperated sigh before saying, “Are you the devil or something? I’m busy trying to build my empire, and you want me to hit on management?”

“For starters,” Ella replied with a wink. “From the sound of things there’s a lot more heating up in that bakery than just the ovens! And besides, you only live once.”

Violet grinned despite her best attempt at being dramatically shocked. “I can’t take you sometimes. The worst thing I could possibly do is hit on Ben Preston.” She carefully sat back on the couch, her wine glass lifted to her lips. “Sure, he’s built like a demigod. And his tush looks amazing in khakis.”