Page 99 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Stone took another sip of coffee, grimaced, and sat the cup back on its saucer. Rubbing his temples, he looked down at the glossy magazine shining up at him from the table and longed for another cup of the Hawaiian coffee he had yesterday at Sydney’s. Headache. Not enough sleep.

Needed triple-octane caffeine. Suddenly, he questioned why in the hell he had traveled all the way to Harbor Falls, North Carolina in search of a damned scone.

Again, his gaze flipped over the magazine cover and settled on the words at the bottom.

Best Scones of the South, the tagline read, page 52.

That’s why.

After last night’s fiasco, he’d pretty much decided to leave Harbor Falls and Sydney Hart and the lovely orange scone behind. Time to get his ass back to Atlanta where he belonged. He had even packed his bags this morning and had them sitting by his Lodge room door. He was ready to head out but had decided on a hearty, mountain breakfast before he did.

He was resigned. Nothing more here for him to do. It was time to give up his hair-brained scheme of somehow sleuthing the recipe away from the lovely Sydney.

Stupid thought.

With a tinker of glassware and muffled voices, he lifted his gaze from the magazine to the scene through the doorway of the dining room to another room set up for a meeting. Through that door, he could see the back of a woman—tall, blonde, thin—who wore a sky-blue chef’s apron and sported a long ponytail down her back. A familiar blonde—the same woman who was the center of his attention lately.

Sydney Hart.

A strange stirring settled in his gut.

He really did like the looks of the woman. Tall and thin, with sea blue eyes that could knock the socks off most men. She was busy, always busy, and focused so intently on her work.

Probably part of her success. She was determined and a bit assertive. He, of all people, knew that it took that kind of business sense to make it out there in the world.

No doubt, she had worked hard to make a name for herself. He admired that in a woman. In anyone. And he admired that in her.

Which was another reason why he should leave. Why this cock-eyed plot had possessed him, he wasn’t quite sure. He was still dumbfounded that he had carried it through this far.

He wasn’t used to losing, and he wasn’t used to not owning the title of Best Scones of the South, himself.

She turned, and he dropped his gaze a little. After a moment, he slowly looked back up again. She bustled about, placing pastries on a platter, straightening sugar packets, and checking on the silver-plated coffee maker on the table. He supposed this was why she and the other woman were baking so much yesterday. Looks like they were catering in breakfast.

He sniffed.

Would she have more scones?

Could he?

No.

Stone fidgeted in his chair and glanced back to the magazine. Absentmindedly he thumbed through the pages to page 52 and saw Sydney’s smiling face staring back at him. In one hand, she held an orange scone, with the other, she was shaking the hand of the magazine editor.

And behind her, was the sign that sported the coveted words that usually hung over his bakery door.

Best Scones of the South.

According to Southern’s Best magazine, that is.

No.

Right then and there, he decided. It wasn’t time to leave Harbor Falls. It wasn’t time to give up his quest. It was time he got down to business.

Time to romance the scone.

Or seduce the chef.

Whichever came first.

****

“The coffee is good but not as good as yours.”

Startled at the voice over her shoulder, Sydney jumped and turned at the same time.

“Oh! Wha—?”

Half a tray of homemade donut holes skittered to the floor. “Dammit!”

The spicy scent of his aftershave made her dizzy. Dropping to the floor, she made a futile attempt to scoop up rolling and escaping donut holes into her apron.

“Here, let me help with that.”

Large hands reached around hers and scraped a few stray donuts off the floor, then gently placed them in her apron.

She glanced up.

“Thank you. Um. Steve?”

He didn’t have his ball cap on for the very first time she’d seen him.

“It is Steve, right?”

He stood and gave her a hand. She took it and straightened to stand, still holding her apron bottom cradling the ruined donuts.

“Yes, I’m Steve.”

“No hat.”

A hand went to his head.

“Oh. Yeah.”

He smiled, and her heart did a little pitter-patter. Were those green eyes he sported beneath those dark, hooded eyebrows? Yesterday, she’d thought them brown.

Definitely green.

With little crinkly wrinkles around the corners. Nice.

“Thanks for the ride last night and getting me out of jail. I think I owe you.”

She relaxed a bit.

“No problem. Matt gets all up in arms sometimes. You know, small town, not much going on, have to earn your cop keep.”

He nodded.

“Still, it was nice of you to go out of your way...”

“I was happy to do it.”

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I was wondering when I could cash in on that rain check.”

Rain check. Right. Sydney bit her lip.

I swear on my fanciest spatula...

His eyes captured hers and held. For whatever reason, she didn’t want to look away. She was magnetically and electrically drawn to him. Like they were polar opposites trying to connect their, well, poles.

“Mornings are really busy for me,”

she blurted out.

“Can you come by around two this afternoon?”

Smiling, he nodded.

“Yes. It’s a date.”

Then he was gone, and Sydney was left holding an apron full of donuts and wondering two things—why she had caved so easily and what would she wear when he came by? It’s a date.

No. Just a tour of her bakery.

She did actually, sort of, like this man, though.

How was that possible?

And she did want to see him again. You know, to find out if there was anything at all between them. You know, other than baking. And such.

Hell.

She was glad to see him again.

Suzie Hart or no Suzie Hart.

****

The usual morning coffee crowd came and went. Around noon, business picked up again. It was a different crowd after lunch. People liked to grab up a large coffee to go, to take back with them to their downtown offices. By one o’clock, Sydney’s tummy was all a twitter, not so much from the fact that Steve was coming, but because she was hoping that Suzie would not pop while he was there.

After all, this was her business, right? Not Suzie’s?

Conveniently, she chose to forget about the oath.

Besides, she had never been totally convinced that Steve was any kind of stalker, but she was darned certain that he had something to do with the food business. Why else would he be here?

And this was her chance. Maybe her only chance. She had to take it.

Take a risk.

At a quarter of two, after she’d tidied the place and spruced herself up a bit as well, she glanced toward the street to see if she could see anyone approaching. Nope. Usually at this time of the afternoon, she was doing some prep for tomorrow morning’s baking. She supposed she could do that, pull out some ingredients and such. Get all her ducks in a row. That way she would look busy when he did arrive, and she would have things ready for in the morning.

She hustled back to the bakery. Every morning she made three types of dough: yeast dough for cinnamon rolls and pastries; quick bread dough for muffins of various kinds; and a batter for scones. She usually featured just one scone a day since she liked to play with her scone recipes, and it was too much to do several kinds each morning. The day before had been orange, today was Mountain Blackberry, and tomorrow morning would be Sugar and Spice.

She had her own secret recipes, and no one, not even Suzie, knew the exact ingredients.

She’d played with the measurements for months before she found the right combination.

Three separate prep stations were located around the kitchen, so she busied herself at each one by filling up the ingredients canisters in each workstation and pulling down added ingredients for the special items on the menu tomorrow.

Chocolate chips, vanilla, cinnamon, canned fruit, maple syrup, cane sugar...

She was so in her element that she did not hear the bells jingle on the door and jumped probably three feet into the air when she heard a man’s deep voice call out from inside the bakery.

“Ms. Hart?”

“What!”

At that moment, a cup of flour flew out of her hands, puffed up into a nice soft cloud in the air, and drifted all over her prep station.

And her.

“Well, shoot!”

She glanced down at herself, covered with flour.

Steve pushed through the door and rushed forward.

“I am so sorry. I thought you heard me come in. I didn’t mean to startle you!”

His hands were everywhere, wiping flour off her shoulders and brushing down her arms.

“Hazard of the business,”

Sydney mumbled. Then after a second, she shook herself out of her trance, and backed up.

“No worries. Let me just…”

Embarrassment set in like a house afire.

She raced to the back door and onto the concrete stoop, all the while calling herself three kinds of stupid. How would this food editor take her seriously if she were wearing half her ingredients instead of baking with them?

Dammit.

Bending at the waist, she shook her head and flour rained down to the painted concrete floor. She pulled her band out of her ponytail and fluffed her hair until it stopped giving up the flour. Then she righted herself, flipping her hair back over her shoulders. By that time, Steve was at her side.

She whipped off her apron in another flurry of flour, sending the cloud flying out into the alley. By the time he had joined her on the stoop, she’d managed to rid herself of most of the powdery stuff.

“I didn’t mean to startle you so,”

Steve began, stepping closer.

“I didn’t hear the bells.”

“You were busy. I should have waited.”

She watched his eyes. They were soft and caring. Not stalkerish at all. Suzie should just see his eyes, and then she would know…

He took another half-step closer and reached for her face.

“There is a little bit more…right…here.”

With a light touch, he brushed away some flour particles from the tip of her nose.

“And here.”

His fingertip moved to her cheek and swept over it like velvet. Again, he flicked away errant patches of flour from her cheek, then forehead.

“And here…”

and then finally, from her chin.

All the while Sydney simply stood and let him, unable to let go of the grip his gaze had on hers, unwilling to move lest he stop touching her so damned tenderly.

Little spritzes of candy-coated sparkles were dancing in her chest.

It was…nice.

His fingers lingered on her chin, and before Sydney knew it, he tipped her face up to his, leaned in, and dipped his head so that his lips could capture hers in one sweet, soft kiss that held promise of something not so sweet and soft in the future.

Like, sex. Hot and spicy sex.

Steve broke the kiss but kept his face close to hers and whispered.

“I’m not sure why I did that. Hadn’t been my plan.”

Sydney swallowed. “Oh?

“Uh-uh. It just came over me. I apologize.”

But he still hadn’t moved, and his eyes peered deep into hers.

“It’s, um, okay. I think…”

“Is it?”

She nodded.

He smiled broadly.

“Interested in dinner tonight? Let’s postpone the tour since you might want to take a shower and get out of those flour-covered clothes.”

“Oh? Yes.”

She looked down at herself.

“Of course.”

He nodded.

“We can discuss your scones then too.”

“Oh!”

Sydney stepped back, suddenly confused.

“Scones. Sure. Of course. Business.”

Steve stepped closer.

“If you want to call it that.”

He grinned.

“Pick you up at seven?”

Sydney blew out a little breath, uncertain of exactly what was happening here.

“Sure. I live upstairs so just come by the bakery. I’ll be waiting there.”

Stepping back now, Steve gave her a sexy half-grin, and said.

“Looking forward to it, Ms. Hart.”

“Call me Sydney.”

“All right. Sydney.”

Then he left and she finally released that giant, balled-up breath inside her chest. She was almost light-headed.

Breathe, Sydney, breathe….