Week 34: Precious Fire by Mary Manners

Precious Fire (Diamond Knot Dreams #3)

 

 

Blurb:

 

Claire McLaughlin, weary of running a corporate rat-race, dreams of pursuing her passion to bake sweet confections. So when former college roommate Lila Brooks asks for her help with catering services at Diamond Knot Dreams Bridal Boutique, Claire grabs the invitation with both hands.

Ryan Kendrick has returned home to Clover Cove to raise his step-brother following the death of their grandmother. Hired to renovate the Town Square, he rents office space on the second floor of Diamond Knot Dreams and soon succumbs to talented Claire McLaughlin’s sweet confections—as well as the blue-eyed beauty herself.

As their romance blooms, so do the shenanigans of Diamond Knot Dreams' meddling spirit, Ellie. Will her antics help to draw Claire and Ryan closer together, or bring the blossoming romance to a grinding halt?

1st Chapter:

 

 

           Claire McLaughlin hummed along to the country tune drifting from the radio as she carefully laced the top tier of a wedding cake with delicate plum-colored bows made of fondant. The cake was coming along nicely, and she was sure her client, Laura Dixon, was going to be pleased with the finished product. A few final touches, and the cake would be ready for delivery. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. Five o’clock had already come and gone, and she’d worked since seven-thirty that morning without so much as a lunch break.

            A dull ache had set up along Claire’s lower back and she redirected her thoughts to draw attention from the niggling pain. She was truly blessed to be designing wedding cakes here at Diamond Knot Dreams—with two of her best friends in the world as partners—instead of cooped up at Crown and Barrow, managing the office of an attorney who appreciated her about as much as the dust on the soles of his polished shoes.

Since Claire had arrived in Clover Cove a few weeks ago, orders for her confections had been pouring in. From sugar-dusted, peach-stuffed popovers to lemon cookies and fudge-filled mini cupcakes, clients could not seem to get enough. Even now, she had a batch of lemon blackberry mini tarts sitting on the butcher-block cooling table, just waiting to be sampled.

            If only Lila would return from her afternoon appointment with the obstetrician, Claire could rope her friend as a guinea pig who might offer some feedback. She was still in the process of tweaking her recipes and creating a menu to be posted on the Diamond Knot Dreams website, so she welcomed the opinions of those she trusted. That included Avery, who had stepped out for a moment or two to see her new husband, Jason, at the photo gallery next door. Avery was a marketing genius who would upload the menu as soon as it was ready.

            Diamond Knot Dreams…Claire could hardly believe she’d arrived to Clover Cove from Nashville to partner with Avery and Lila, her former college roommates and best friends for the better part of a decade. The bridal shop had expanded by leaps and bounds since Lila first spotted the neglected turn-of-the-century Victorian house that had gone into foreclosure just over three years ago. She’d snatched up the property. Her husband, Morgan Holt—who at the time was not yet her husband but had quickly fallen hard for her—had performed the restoration that had transformed the Victorian into a beautiful, functional showplace that drew brides-to-be from surrounding towns in droves.

            “Claire, you have a visitor.” Jodi Stiles, their part time college receptionist, poked her head through the doorway. Springs of curly red hair framed cornflower-blue eyes and porcelain skin smattered with freckles. “It’s Ryan Kendrick. He said he spoke on the phone with you this morning concerning the vacant second-story office space we have for rent.”

            “Oh, yes.” Claire recalled the slow, southern drawl of Ryan’s voice and how the warm and inviting tone had melted her insides. “Sure. Send him on back and we can talk while I finish this cake, if he doesn’t mind me working through our conversation.”

            “Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind at all. I’ll fetch him.” Jodi smoothed a hand through her hair. No matter how hard she tried, the curls refused to be tamed. “And, just for the record, I don’t think you’ll mind the interruption to your work here either. Ryan Kendrick…well, let’s just say he’s awfully easy on the eyes. Even better, he’s not here for a bridal appointment—if you get my drift.” She offered a saucy little wink. “I mean, he’s not with a fiancé or anything. He’s—”

“Yes, I get your drift, Jodi, and thanks for the four-one-one.” Claire placed the final fondant bow on the wedding cake and added a trio of sugar flowers set off to one side, affording ample space for bride and groom statuettes to be added upon delivery and set-up. “But I’m not looking for a romantic relationship at this point in my life. I have too much on my plate, literally, here at Diamond Knot Dreams. And besides…”

Claire let the words trail off. How was she supposed to explain the fiasco with Dan to Jodi, and why should she even bother to try? The entire debacle was in the past—though not far enough behind her that the memory of Dan’s acerbic words didn’t occasionally resurface to sting like a paper cut that hasn’t fully healed.

“You’re way too serious for me, Claire. You need to loosen up…have a little fun. Your non-stop work ethic and holier-than-thou morals are a real relationship-killer. Can’t you ever let loose and embrace a bit of excitement and adventure?”

Dan’s idea of fun, excitement, and adventure didn’t seem to match hers. So, their time together eventually became a losing battle of wills. In the end, Claire grew weary of the fight. Dan had beaten her to the proverbial punch, breaking off the relationship before she had the chance. Sure, his rejection stung a bit—more than Claire would care to admit—but ending things now was infinitely better than the caustic alternative of making a life-changing mistake with a man who had proven he’d never fully respect her.

Plus, he had a temper that seemed to grow by the day, one that led Claire to hoist a very big red flag high overhead.

“He was a jerk,” Jodi said simply, as if reading Claire’s mind. “And you deserve better than Dan Maldorf could have ever offered. We all do.” She shook her head emphatically. “So, I’ll send in Mr. Tall, Blond, and Scrumptious. Who knows…?”

“Good grief, but you’re incorrigible.” Claire had to laugh, though, as she spied the tray of lemon blackberry mini tarts, settled like spangled Christmas lights all in a row on the cooling rack. “You wouldn’t happen to want to sample one of these little beauties, would you, and give me an idea of what needs to be tweaked…more lemon, less sugar, more blackberries or a dash of powdered sugar?”

“Of course I would.” Jodi eyed the confections with such a pitiful look of longing that it nearly broke Claire’s heart. “But they are definitely not on my list of diet foods, and I have to work on this freshman forty.” She patted her ample thighs to emphasize the point. She was now a college junior, and those forty pounds seemed to be putting up a great resistance to her weight-loss regime.

“Yes, I know. It’s going to take some time, but you can do it. Hang in there.”

“Thanks. It’s not easy.” Jodi frowned as if she wanted to believe the vote of confidence, but wasn’t quite convinced. “Cutting out sweets and walking three miles a day, rain or shine, may very well kill me, but I’m determined not to give up this time. Chocolate macaroons and fudge ripple ice cream will just have to wait.”

“Yes, they will. You keep plowing ahead.” Claire patted her own belly, conscious of the fact that she’d missed her morning run. She’d have to make up for it with some time on the treadmill tonight. “Anyway, I think I just found my guinea pig.”

            “Your what?”

            “Never mind.” Claire moved to the sink and rinsed remnants of sticky-sweet sugar from her hands. She dried with a paper towel, then smoothed a hand through her hair and added a swipe of gloss to lips that had grown dry as crepe paper from a day spent bathed in the heat of the oven. “Just send in Mr. Kendrick.”

            “Will do. But just to warn you, Ellie’s been a bit restless today.”

            “Ellie?”

            “Yes, our elusive friend who putters in the attic. I call her Ellie, because it just seems to fit. She’s been a bit out of sorts today.”

“Really? We have a few odd noises around here, a couple of misplaced objects and you’ve given that a name—Ellie?

“Yes, that’s right. Ellie. And she’s wound up today.”

“Good grief.” Claire rolled her eyes yet played along. “How so?”

“I was with a client when suddenly we both heard the music box—you know, the one that Avery found—playing from Lila’s office. And then something crashed along the landing near the attic stairs. After the client left, I went to investigate and I found these.” She drew a trio of rose petals from the back pocket of her khakis. “The entire attic smelled like roses, though there’s not so much as a bush or bouquet anywhere around there. I think Ellie put them there, somehow. I know it sounds crazy, but…”

            “Yes, that’s impossible, Jodi.” Claire took the petals anyway, and held them to her nose. The scent was unmistakable and still quite strong. “Avery was rummaging around up there early this morning, looking through the boxes and sorting things. She must have stumbled across these and dropped them.”

            “I suppose that’s more plausible than my theory. But, after so many years, why would they still smell as if they fluttered off a bloom this morning?”

            “I have no idea. But you make a good point.”

            “Score one for me.” Jodi snatched the petals from Claire’s fingers, kept two and tucked the third into the pocket of Claire’s apron. “I’m telling you, Ellie’s restless. And you know what that leads to....”

            “Don’t be ridiculous.” Claire knew the tale. Both Lila and Avery had found true love upon entering—and working—at the Victorian. Modern lore chalked that up to some kind of spiritual meddling by the daughter of former owners, who, as legend had it, still pined for her lost love. But Claire was a pragmatist at heart, and she was having none of it. “Besides, even if there is the slightest hint of truth to the tale, I’m completely immune to romance. I’ve had my fill of dating and broken promises for the foreseeable future.”

            “I’ve heard that tune before—from both Lila and Avery. And you know what happened to each of them.” She waggled a finger and then turned on her heel with a mischievous grin that rankled.

Claire stiffened her spine and her heart against any sort of unseen forces. She refused to fall, yet at the moment she felt slightly off-kilter. She slipped a hand into her apron pocket and touched the smooth layer of rose petal. The odd feeling had to be due to the long work day, nothing more. She was calorie deprived as well as dehydrated. She went to the refrigerator and found a bottle of water. One generous swallow, and the world seemed to right itself once again. “There…that’s better.”

“Sure, it is.” Jodi paused in the doorway. “Now, I’m going to fetch Mr. Kendrick. You might want to take another sip or two of that water before I send him back.”

Jodi retreated into the foyer. A flurry of murmurs ensued, and then heavy footsteps sounded along the length of hallway outside the small kitchen.

            “Excuse me?” The male voice carried a rich, now-familiar southern drawl. “Do you have a moment?”

Claire lifted her gaze to find that Jodi’s description of Ryan Kendrick was right on the mark. He stood tall, blond, and lanky in a muscular sort of way. His blue-gray eyes mirrored an afternoon autumn sky while his easy smile drew her in and held tight as sugar glue. Claire’s insides melted and swirled like warm butter in a bowl of mashed potatoes. She raised the water bottle to her lips and drained it dry, hoping her tongue would untie itself.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” He continued when she failed to speak. “Ryan Kendrick. I called earlier…about the office space?”

            “Umm…” Claire’s thoughts suddenly went mushy. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m Claire McLaughlin. Would you like to be my guinea pig?”

 

****

 

“Would I like to be your what?” Jason raked a hand through his hair.

            “Let me explain.” Claire headed toward the edge of the table and lifted what looked like a miniature slice of heaven from a baking tray. “Will you sample this for me and tell me what you think?” She lifted what looked like a very small fruit-filled pie from the tray, placed it on a napkin, and handed it to him. “It’s a lemon blackberry mini tart.”

Jason drew his gaze from the delicious-looking sweet to study her. Her eyes were the darkest shade of blue, like the sea following a summer storm. Rosy cheeks were framed by wheat-blonde hair that spilled like a gentle waterfall to her shoulders. Though she might be considered petite, she was nicely-rounded in all the right places—even if the bubblegum pink, flour-dusted apron concealed most of those appealing curves.

His nerve endings suddenly sizzled and snapped as if he’d been caught in a lightning storm. Because he couldn’t form a completely coherent thought, he pointed to the object in Claire’s hand.

            “Excuse me? What did you say that is?”

            “Just try it and give me your honest rating—one to ten. Don’t hold back. I can take any criticism you might dish out.”

            “Well, I’ll say it looks like a ten.” And so, in his humble and purely male opinion, did Claire. Never one to turn away any food laced with sugar—especially one that was obviously homemade—Ryan obliged. He took a generous bite and an explosion of flavor washed over his taste buds. A low moan escaped his lips as he finished it off. “That was easy. One hundred and ten.”

            “What?”

            “I rate your tiny piece of heaven one hundred and ten—one hundred for the food and ten for the service. That smattering of flour across one of your cheeks merely serves to add to your cuteness factor.”

“Did you say cuteness?”

“Uh huh. And that…”

“Lemon blackberry mini tart.”

“Pure heaven.” Ryan lifted his fingers to his mouth and kissed the tips in Mama Mia fashion. “Brava. It’s beyond delicious.”

            “You really think so?” Claire scooted over to the fridge door, checking her reflection in the stainless steel. Frowning, she tore a paper towel from the roll over the sink and swiped the offending flour from her cheek before turning back to face him. Yes, she had the cuteness factor in spades. “Are you sure?”

            “Well, I could try another, just to be one-hundred percent convinced.” He slanted his lips to form a playful smirk. “You know…quality control and all that.”

            “Of course.” Claire’s gaze narrowed slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “There are plenty, and they shouldn’t go to waste.”

            “I’m kidding.” Ryan caught her hand as she started to lift a second tart from the pan. “I don’t need a second helping to know they are perfect. Did you make them?”

            “I did.”

            “And that wedding cake?” He motioned to the three-tiered, sugar-infused beauty.

“Yes, I made that, as well.”

            “You’ve got quite a gift.” Ryan rounded the table, eyeing the cake with admiration. “And if those tarts are any indication, I’ll wager the cake tastes just as good as it looks.”

            “I’d like to think so.” Claire took an extra-large delivery box from the shelf, assembled it as if she could do so in her sleep, and set it on the table beside the cake. “And I hope Laura Dixon and her husband-to-be like it, too. Do you mind if I package this before I show you the office space we discussed on the phone this morning?”

            “Not at all.” If it was up to Ryan, he’d watch her work all day. There was a unique energy, a cross between ballet and hip hop, in her movement. He leaned back against the counter and drank it all in. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

            But he’d text Caleb anyway, to say he might be just a little delayed picking him up. He didn’t want his step-brother to worry. He drew his phone from his pocket and shot off the text without taking his eyes from Claire.

            “In that case, I’ve got a few other confections that I’ve been working on—fudge-filled cupcakes, hand pies stuffed with strawberries and cream, raspberry lemon coconut panna cotta tarts—”

            “Excuse me? English, please.”

            “Here, I’ll show you.” Claire’s light laughter fluttered like confetti as she crossed the kitchen and disappeared into a walk-in cooler. She exited a few moments later with a silver tray filled with a collection of sweets. She set the tray on the counter, crossed to a cabinet, and then returned to hand him a crystal dessert plate and a fork. “Go ahead, fill your plate and enjoy.”

            “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Ryan made his selections. Each sample brought sheer delight as his taste buds danced a lively tango. He lifted his gaze to connect with Claire’s. “You’re killing me.”

            “That’s certainly not my intention.”

            “Nonetheless…” Ryan finished off the treats, then set his plate and fork in the sink. “I’m your biggest fan.”

            “Well, I’m thoroughly flattered.” She flashed a smile that arrowed straight to Ryan’s heart. “Thank you.”

            “No…thank you.”

Claire turned her attention to the wedding cake seated on the table. “Would you mind to give me a hand with this so I don’t have to pull Jodi from the reception area? I think she’s with a client.”

            “Sure. It’s the least I can do.”

            “The tiers are over-sized—they’re made to serve a three-hundred-plus crowd—so the cake’s a bit heavy and unwieldy. It took more time to prepare than I anticipated, so toppling it just might catapult me into an epic crying jag.”

            “No worries, I’ve got your back.” Ryan stepped up to the table and nestled in beside her. Careful to follow her lead, he lifted a corner of the silver-toned disc that the cake sat upon. Elevating the disc just an inch or so from a metal stand that resembled a turn-style, he and Claire slipped the cake to the right and then gently lowered it into the box.

            “Mission accomplished.” Claire dusted her hands on her apron. The spicy floral scent of her perfume was an appealing contrast to the sugary-sweet aroma emanating from shelves of baking extracts. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You don’t have to deliver it, do you?”

            “No. Lila has a dedicated crew for delivery and set-up, thank goodness.”

            “It looks like you’ve got some cleaning up to do.” Ryan surveyed the arsenal of baking sheets, spatulas, plastic bags filled with icing and all sorts of decorating paraphernalia. There was lots of other stuff, too…stuff that until now he had no idea existed and couldn’t possibly name to save his life. The closest to homemade cake he’d ever baked came out of a box. Toss in a few eggs, add some oil, and stir it all together before dumping it into a pan and cooking it until the room smells so good you can’t stand waiting another minute. Frosting was optional. “Would you like a hand with the clean-up, too?”

            Already, he was rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt and wondering where she stored clean aprons.

            Yeah, he had it bad. She did something to him, and already he was under her spell. He didn’t quite know what to make of it.

            “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll get to it later.” Claire unlaced her apron, balled it into a bundle, and tossed it into a basket in a laundry closet off the kitchen. “You’ve been kind enough as it is.”

            When she turned back to face him he noticed that the baby-blue scoop-necked T-shirt she was wearing complemented her rosy cheeks and blonde hair. He’d never seen a woman quite as beautiful, flour-dusted and all. He wondered if her lips tasted like the powdered sugar she’d used to garnish the lemon blackberry tarts and figured he’d have to make it his mission to find out.

            Suddenly, he wanted to ask her out in the worst sort of way. “Claire…?”

            “Yes?” She crossed toward him, her perfume coming back into the range of his olfactory senses. Suddenly he stood tongue tied. He’d never been tongue-tied in his life. He merely shook his head, dazed as a catfish caught in a net.

Claire waited a moment. Realizing he wasn’t going to complete the thought, she offered, “I’d better show you that office space now. I’ve delayed you long enough.”

            Oh, but he wouldn’t mind to be delayed by her a bit longer. He jammed his hands deep into his pockets and cleared his throat, coaxing the return of his voice.

            “OK, then. Sounds like a plan.” But not the plan he wanted. Now, he wanted more. Conversation…a meal together…a date.

            Ryan followed Claire from the kitchen, through the great room where Jodi was showing a client invitation samples on the desktop computer in the reception area, and up a sweeping staircase to the second floor. As they reached the landing, the scent of roses blossomed.

“It smells lovely,” Ryan inhaled. “Like I’ve come home.”
 

            “Oh, it’s just Ellie,” Claire murmured. “Playing tricks again.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Thanks so much for joining me this week. I hope you've enjoyed this peek into my Diamond Knot Dreams series. Please leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. Winner will be announced Monday, August 28.

 

Good Luck!