Chapter Five
The next evening, Hunter made his way through the crowded chamber of commerce meeting hall, eyeing the long table of potluck dishes set out on festive red tablecloths. People actually cooked things for this? There were homemade pasta salads and mysterious casseroles sprinkled with . . . cornflakes. God. Platters of unevenly cut vegetables with dip. Plates of cookies, some singed around the edges from being left too long in the oven. It was an unorganized mishmash of food. No rhyme or reason to any of it.
The only notable dish was a three-tiered, china serving platter near the center of the table. Delicate pink cupcakes topped with edible flowers dusted in crystalized sugar were artfully arranged on each tier. They were exquisite, and nothing like the other dishes. Hunter had a pretty good idea who might have brought them. He casually scanned the room for the mysterious baker.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had attended a potluck. As a finance investor and owner of upscale restaurant properties, parties like this just weren’t common. Not now, and certainly not when he was a kid. His parents would have been insulted. They’d have called it gauche and blue-collar. Even after their divorce, they’d have still agreed on that. In his mother’s opinion, if a party wasn’t catered by the best, it wasn’t worth having.
But laughter and music filled the air, and although Hunter generally shied away from large social parties, there was an easygoing warmth about the crowd that couldn’t be denied. It was odd. Like everyone had known one another a long time. Like they were family. He had expected the chamber of commerce gathering to be more subdued and formal. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn the suit.
“There you are, Mr. Kane,” said a stocky man who had to be in his eighties. Sam Norton, the commerce committee chairman, had the jovial, ruddy complexion of a man who was no stranger to a strong glass of scotch. He had long since lost most of his hair, but his comb-over was still going strong. All fourteen strands of it.
Hunter held out his hand. “Mr. Norton.”
“Call me Sam, everyone does.” He gestured to Hunter’s suit, grinning. “Look at you all gussied up. Here, we only dress like that if we’re going to a wedding or a funeral. But you do look mighty dapper. I’d wager there’ll be a wedding in your future soon, if the ladies here have any say in it.” Sam hooted with laughter and took a swig of his drink.
Hunter nodded in resignation. Next time, he’d skip the suit. Maybe he’d burn it, just to be safe.
“Look here,” Sam said, leaning closer. “I’ve been wanting to ask about your new restaurant and café. Any plans to serve steak dishes? Gary Sawyer’s butcher shop is one street over from you and he has the best sirloin prices in town. You two should talk.” He held his glass of bourbon up to Hunter in salute and winked, downing the rest of it.
An upbeat song came on over the large speakers set up at the far end of the hall, and several people laughed and grabbed partners to dance. Hunter glanced up at the entrance and Sam’s words suddenly faded into the background.
Goldilocks stood near the door. She was in a lively conversation, laughing at something another woman said. Her golden ringlets hung loose tonight, and she wore a knockout black dress that stopped at her knees, hugging her in all the right places. And there were so many right places. Hunter swallowed hard. Damn, she was gorgeous. It was really too bad she had taken such a dislike to him. Not that he needed to be entangled with a woman, God only knew. But still, it was tough to be on the receiving end of someone that alluring when they only wanted to shoot daggers at you.
She had been so angry at him yesterday when he intruded on her private lunch spot. Granted, he’d been barking orders at Jerry on the phone, but he’d been waiting on that Chihuly glass order for weeks, and he was so frustrated when Jerry said their designer wanted to change things at the last minute. Still, it wasn’t an excuse to be rude to her. If he could go back and do it over, he would.
Sam nudged him with his empty glass. “I see you’ve noticed Ms. Holloway. As sweet as her cupcakes, that girl.” He leaned forward and said with a hiccup, “The Holloways are special, you know.”
“Are they?” Anyone could see by looking at her that she was special. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, although objectively speaking, no one could argue that. It was something else. She glowed with a warmth and vitality that made others around her fade in comparison.
“Yes, yes,” Sam said, nodding. “They’ve always been special. Most people don’t believe it.” He tapped his temple with one gnarled finger. “But I know better. I knew her mother and grandmother. The Holloway women. They have talents.”
Hunter glanced back at Emma. If rocking a little black dress was a talent, then she had it in spades.
“Magical talents.” Sam hiccupped again. “You know, spells and the like.”
Hunter stared at him in surprise. The man was deeper in his cups than he realized. “I see.” But he really didn’t see. What was Sam getting at? Visions of the old shows Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie floated through his mind. He could just imagine her in some sexy sixties getup, and his mouth kicked into a wicked grin. “Are you saying she’s a witch?”
Sam pursed his lips and frowned into his empty cup. “Well, not exactly. At least not the kind who do bad things.”
“What a shame.” He could think of a few naughty things he might like to—
“Eh?”
Hunter cleared his throat. “What’s her name?”
“Emma. Emma Holloway. She has a way with charms, that one. Her grandmother had kitchen magic, rest her soul, and Emma takes after her with the baking. All the Holloway women have some kind of gift. Just born that way.”
Hunter’s curiosity peaked. A family of beautiful, magical women sounded like something out of a storybook. Impossible. But if anyone could make you believe in fairy tales, it was Goldilocks over there. “Are there many of them?”
Sam looked surprised. “Well, no. Not anymore. Aside from her cousin, Juliette, Emma is all that’s left. Her grandmother died a while ago and now Emma takes care of the Holloway house and runs the cupcake shop by herself.”
Hunter blinked at the vision before him. She was the incarnation of warmth and light, from her genuine smile to the way she touched people when she talked. He had never seen a woman who radiated that much kindness. It seemed wrong, somehow, that she would be so alone. No wonder she was so distraught about his new restaurant opening up. That shop was her legacy; all she had left.
He shifted uncomfortably as the upbeat tempo changed to a softer, slow song.
Sam grabbed him by the elbow. “Come, let me introduce you.”
Before Hunter could respond, Sam hollered across the crowd, “Emma! There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She glanced up, her smile faltering. For a moment she looked as though she wanted to bolt, then thought better of it. Lifting her chin, she stood her ground as they approached.
“Emma Holloway, meet Hunter Kane,” Sam said jovially.
She crossed her arms. “We’ve met.”
“Wonderful.” Sam seemed oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. “I’d wager the two of you have a lot to talk about. Hunter’s building the new restaurant, you know. Say, have you tried one of her cupcakes yet?”
“I have,” Hunter said carefully. He still remembered how angry she had been when she found out he actually ate them.
“Oh, splendid! Which one did you give him, Emma? It’s very important, you understand.” Sam nudged Hunter with his elbow. “Was it ‘Sweet Dreams’?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Emma. “Or ‘Raspberry Kiss’?”
A shadow passed across Emma’s face. “I gave him ‘Sweet Success.’” She looked suddenly tired and resigned. It was a terrible thing to see on such a vivacious face, and Hunter wanted to make it go away.
Sam let out a booming laugh and slapped him on the back. “You couldn’t ask for a better welcome to Pine Cove Island than that. ‘Sweet Success,’ indeed. How perfect. Especially since you two will be sharing the contract for the summer festival kickoff.”
Hunter watched the color drain from Emma’s face as Sam mumbled something about refills and teetered off in search of another drink.
* * *
Emma felt like a fish that had just been yanked out of the water and tossed into a frying pan. Hunter eyed her with what seemed like genuine concern, except how could it be? He was singlehandedly ruining her business, and her life.
She forced her voice to sound casual. “Did Sam just say we would be working the summer festival together?”
“Yes, Haven will have its grand opening on the day of the festival.”
Haven. Even the name of his restaurant sounded egotistical.
“So they decided it would be good for publicity if I was part of the planning,” he continued. “The board made a unanimous decision a few days ago. Didn’t you get the letter in the mail?”
Emma thought of the small stack of unopened mail she had on her kitchen table. For the past couple of days she had been like an ostrich with its head in the sand. She wouldn’t open anything that looked like a bill or an official document. She just needed a break from all the bad news.
“I must have missed it,” she said as breezily as she could manage. God, how could it get any worse? She and Hunter, planning and coordinating a full day of catering for hundreds of people.
He shrugged. “They wanted to try something new this year. Said it would be a good idea to have us co-cater the event, since we have somewhat complementary venues. You could sell your cupcakes, and my place would offer French croissants and pastries, espresso, that sort of thing.”
A dull ache began spiraling through Emma’s head. She needed a glass of water. Make that one-hundred-proof whiskey. She didn’t want to try something new. The summer festival was one of her largest money-making events of the year. Sharing the contract with him meant sharing the profits. If she didn’t make her sales quota, then she could just kiss her beloved home good-bye.
She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home in her house, where she could wallow in misery alone. She pasted a grin on her face. There was no way in hell he was going to see her break down.
“Hey, do you want a drink or something?” he asked.
She nodded mechanically. Smile and pretend. “That would be great.”
He turned away, weaving through the crowd toward the concessions table. When he was far enough, she whirled and bolted toward the door, not slowing down until she reached her car outside.
The misty night air cooled her overheated cheeks, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes for just a brief moment. What was she going to do? Another obstacle in her path. Ever since Hunter Kane had come to town, her problems seemed increasingly insurmountable. And now this.
She pushed back her frustration and took a deep breath. No, it would be okay; she would figure something out. She had to. If only he would leave and take his fancy new place with him. Juliette’s “Go Away” cupcake idea seemed more and more appealing by the second.
Emma rummaged through her purse for her keys.
“I don’t think you’ll find any drinks in there.”
She spun around to see Hunter standing behind her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Typical. Rats were sneaky like that. “I changed my mind. Not thirsty.”
“Look, Emma,” he said softly. There was that voice again, all smooth melted chocolate and honey. “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot here. I don’t want that, and I’m sorry I disrupted your lunch yesterday.”
Yeah, right. He wasn’t sorry. The only reason he was being nice now was because they were being forced to work together and he needed her.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I was dealing with a major issue at work and I wasn’t at my best.”
Excuses. Excuses.
“But that’s no excuse.”
Whatever.
He placed a hand on the roof of her car. “Why don’t you meet me tomorrow around eleven and we can discuss the details about catering for the summer festival? It’s only one month away and I could use your expertise. I hear you did it on your own last year.”
So now he wanted her expertise, did he? Well he’d be ice skating in hell before that ever happened. “Yup,” Emma said as she slid into her car, “I sure did.”
Hunter stood back as she started the engine. “So, tomorrow then?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Your plan. Too bad I won’t be a part of it.
He gave her a slow, devastating smile and she forced herself to look away.
* * *
On the highway, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The memory of his sexy smile still lingered in her mind. She yanked out her cell phone and dialed Juliette’s number. He wouldn’t be smiling for long.
“Hello?” Juliette’s voice sounded muffled from sleep.
“Let’s do it,” Emma said in a rush.
“Um, whoever you are, I’m flattered, but I prefer men.”
“Not funny,” Emma said impatiently. “Come on, Jules, it’s me.”
“Oh, good,” she said through a yawn. “Cuz that would’ve been an awkward conversation.”
“Listen up. Summer solstice, you and I are combining our magic.” She gripped the steering wheel tightly. “We’re making that cupcake.”
Juliette squealed in delight and Emma had to hold the phone away from her ear. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.
Game on. Hunter Kane was leaving town, and never coming back.