The Hand-Picked Bride

She blinked. Just when she’d been ready to pigeonhole him, he’d surprised her again. She hesitated and shrugged. If he was interested in bakery items, far be it from her to discourage him. Customers were what she lived for.

“Would you like to try one?” she asked.

“Yes, I would,” he said, reaching for his wallet. “Let’s see...how about a slice of cheesecake. And a Napoleon. And one of those cherry tarts.”

She blinked and started to laugh. “All three?”

He grinned and nodded as though he were glad she was showing signs that she might warm up eventually. “All three.”

She shrugged, amused but at a loss. “Do you want me to box them?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll try them here. Put them on separate plates, please.”

Now she was completely confused. It seemed a little early in the morning for gluttony, and he really didn’t seem the type. Then a possible answer occurred to her.

“Oh, do you have friends with you?” she asked, craning to look behind him. There were others on the street. The place was beginning to come to life. But there was no one who looked as though he or she belonged to this strange man.

“No,” he said, confirming her original judgment. “There’s only me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh.”

The man wanted three pastries and that was what he should have. She glanced back to make sure Kevin was busily playing with his blocks, then pulled out three paper plates and went to work, picking out nice specimens and setting all three plates on a tray. He put a few bills down on the counter and took the tray from her, murmuring his thanks. Taking the plastic fork she’d provided, he took a bite of the cheesecake and rolled it around on his tongue. She leaned back against a stack of boxes with her arms folded, watching curiously, as his eyes seemed to get a very distant look. Either the man loved cheesecake or he was a very discerning connoisseur.

When the bite was finished, he prodded the confection with the fork, examining the crust, mashing the creamy center through the tines in a way that made her wince. Then he turned to the Napoleon and did the same to it before popping a large bite into his mouth.

She frowned, toying with the idea of saying something to him about his unusual way of eating, but before she had a chance, Kevin threw a block out of the playpen and she bent to retrieve it. When she rose again, she turned and found the man breaking apart the cherry tart as though he might find something sinister hidden in its depths. She handed the block to her son absently, frowning as she watched the man put a taste of the tart in his mouth and narrow his eyes. He looked as though he were listening to something she couldn’t quite hear, and as she watched, she had to hold back a flash of annoyance.

What the heck was he doing, anyway? Didn’t he have any respect for decent food? She bit her tongue. After all, he’d bought the pastries. She had no right to complain about the way he ate them. But she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

Oblivious to her emotions, he looked at her again, nodded with a trace of a smile and put the plate down, reaching for a napkin. “Thanks,” he said as he wiped away a few crumbs. “Great stuff.”

She stepped forward and looked at the tray in dismay. He’d had one bite of each and done a lot of damage along the way. “That’s it? You’re not going to finish them?”

He let out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? I’d turn into a bowling ball if I ate whole portions.” He tossed his napkin into her trash can.

“Listen, I work with food. I have to test it all the time. And I’ve got to say, these are some dam good pastries.”

She looked from him to the demolished plates again, still at sea. “I...I’m glad you like them.”

He nodded, thinking. “I do.” He looked her up and down, assessing more than her baking abilities. A smile lit his eyes and he nodded as though agreeing with something he’d just thought of. “Listen, how would you like to come work for me?”

“For you?” She drew back suspiciously. She hadn’t expected anything like this. “Doing what?”

“Believe it or not, I need a pastry chef.” He pulled out his wallet again and found a business card to show her. “I’ve got a restaurant, the Max Grill in Pasadena. Our pastry chef quit last month and we’ve been making do with a local bakery.” He gestured toward her wares. “I like what you’ve got here. How about giving it a try?”

She studied the card to keep from meeting his gaze. The Max Grill. She’d heard of it, though she’d never eaten there. Her budget ran more to fast-food hamburger stands.

“I don’t think so,” she told him, holding the card out to him. “Thanks anyway.”

He smiled at her, bemused. She didn’t trust him. He could see it in her spectacular eyes, sense it in her body language. He’d never seen anyone like her before and he had an instinctive feeling that he shouldn’t let her slip out of his life without at least thinking it over.

“Listen, just come by one day this week and take a look at our setup,” he suggested, avoiding taking back the card. “I think you’ll like what you see.”

She was shaking her head, but he didn’t let her get a word in. “I’ve got two big commercial baking ovens. They can be yours every morning. Just think of the things you could try there that you’ve never been able to do before.” His smile was contagious. “Come on by and give us a chance. And after you fall in love with the place, we’ll talk. We’ll negotiate your salary. I pay pretty decently.” He jerked his head toward the playpen. “You might even be able to afford to get a baby-sitter for the kid.”

Her head snapped around and she gazed at him levelly. Baby-sitting for her kid, indeed! As if she would let anyone else raise her child for her. Wasn’t that just like a man? Suddenly it all seemed much too familiar. Sure, get the kid out of the way so they could get to know each other better. Where had she ever heard that before?

“I’m afraid I can’t help you out,” she said stiffly, dropping the card into her trash, since he wouldn’t take it back.

He watched her defiant gesture with a slight frown. “You won’t even come take a look at the place?”

She held her head high and gazed at him across the bridge of her nose. “No.”

His frown deepened. “Do you have some other job? Besides this, I mean.”

He was awfully persistent and she looked toward where Mandy was selling pretzels to a young boy. She might have to call for reinforcements if he kept this up. “Let’s just say my family obligations rule it out.”

His face cleared. “Ah, I see. Your husband wouldn’t approve?”

She merely smiled, and just as she’d suspected, his eyes clouded over and he seemed to lose interest fast. She’d seen him look at her empty ring finger before and he did so again now. But he shrugged and began to back away.

“Well, in that case,” he said smoothly. “I won’t bother you any further.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but he was already turning from her and she couldn’t remember what it was going to be anyway. She watched him stop by Mandy’s pretzel stand and buy one of the twisted pieces of bread. She was tempted to take offense when she noticed him munching on it. After all, he hadn’t finished her pastries, had he?

Hey, stop it, she scolded herself immediately. If you’re going to be jealous of something like that, you might as well give it up.

He turned and caught her watching, waved the pretzel at her and started off, while she flushed, wishing she’d turned away sooner. Clenching her jaw with new determination. she went back to setting up her counter, carefully avoiding a look in his direction again and a moment later, Mandy hurried over.

“What happened?” she asked, her eyes bright. “That man I just sold a pretzel to—he was over here talking to you forever. What did he want?”

Jolene looked up at her friend and roommate and sighed. “What do you think? He actually thought I would fall for the old offer of a job trick. He said he ran a restaurant and needed a pastry chef. Can you believe it?”

Mandy frowned, considering carefully. “You turned him down?”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

Jolene put a stack of napkins into the holder before answering. “Because he’s a guy.” She glanced at her friend, then toward her child. “And I know all about guys. I’ve been down that road before.”

“I know, but...” Mandy frowned, biting her lip.

She tried another vein, hoping to make it clear. “You should have seen how quickly he backed off once he thought I was married.”

Mandy’s frown only deepened. “But you’re not married.”

Jolene pushed her hair back impatiently, turning away. No, she wasn’t married. But she might as well be. “I know that,” she said quickly. “But he doesn’t. And once he heard that, he was out of here like a shot.”

Mandy raised one dark eyebrow, surveying her friend with a glint of amusement. “Maybe he’s a gentleman.”

“What?” Jolene gave her an outlandish look. Gentlemen didn’t hang around offering jobs that didn’t exist.

But Mandy smiled, liking her idea. “Sure. Once he found out you were already spoken for, he decided to back off.” She gave her friend a teasing grin. “He just couldn’t bear to tempt himself any further.”

Jolene threw up her hands. “Oh, puhlease, Mandy,” she said, though she had to admit, in her secret heart, such a scenario pleased her, too.

Mandy shook her head and flopped down on the camp stool Jolene kept behind the counter. “Well, there’s only one problem with your theory. In point of fact, he asked me if you were married. And since I didn’t know you were giving him that impression on purpose, I told him the truth.”

The two friends stared at each other, then both started to laugh.

“Oh, brother, now I feel like an idiot,” Jolene admitted, shaking her head. Her attempt at a tough shell had melted away in an instant. It hadn’t been a very comfortable fit anyway.

“So I guess maybe his job offer was on the level,” Mandy suggested.

Jolene shrugged. “Maybe.” But she turned away and began another chore, as though it hardly mattered in the end.

Mandy was silent for a while, but finally blurted out, “You’re nuts. You know very well we’re not making it. The rent is eating up all the money we make here. We need something else.”

Jolene winced, knowing her words were true enough, but hating to face facts just yet. “All we need is a couple of good days...”

“A couple won’t do it,” Mandy told her bluntly. “A month of good days might get us by. You’ve got Kevin. We’ve both got the rent to pay and food to buy. We’ve got to do something to get more cash coming in. I’m thinking about going back to the factory....”

Jolene spun to face her friend. “Oh, Mandy, no. You hated that place.”

Mandy shrugged, and Jolene knew her friend was fighting back tears. She had hated the factory, though she’d been a supervisor. The place had been a garment shop, full of immigrants who couldn’t get anything better, and the boss had pushed her to push them to the limit. Jolene knew Mandy would rather do almost anything else than go back there. Still, it was pretty clear they weren’t making it the way things were going now.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Mandy said softly.

The two of them had met a year before when Mandy had moved her pretzel machine next to Jolene’s booth. They’d quickly become good friends and they’d moved in together to save rent money from overwhelming them. Mandy was wonderful with Kevin and the three of them formed a nice little family. The only fly in the ointment so far had been Mandy’s boyfriend, Stan. Try as she would, Jolene just couldn’t hit it off with him and she really resented the way he treated Mandy. But his photography business had really picked up in the past few months, leaving him less time to hang around their apartment, so the waters were a bit calmer.

However, she had to admit it was time to face facts. They weren’t making enough money to make it from month to month. Something would have to be done. Jolene looked at Mandy’s miserable face and she threw her arms around her. “We’ll think of something,” she said, the urge to comfort sounding just a little desperate. “Just give it a few more days. Something will come up. It has to.”

Mandy shook her head. “It hasn’t so far. We’ve got to do something. And we’ve got to do it now.”

Jolene closed her eyes and hugged her friend more tightly. The image of Grant Fargo swam into her mind and she sighed. It was too bad he was so attractive. And it was very lucky such things didn’t get to her these days. She’d learned her lessons early and she knew what it was like to steel herself against temptation.

“Okay,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything.”

Kevin, ignored too long, let out a shriek and both women turned toward him.

“They certainly start at a young age, don’t they?” Mandy muttered. And both women laughed.

Three

Grant took in the banquet room at a glance. Decorated for a baby shower, pink and blue teddy bears floated down from the ceiling and fluffy white swans cruised down the center of the long table. He nodded approvingly.

“You did a great job putting this together,” he told the tall, elegant woman standing beside him.

“Thank you, boss,” Michelle answered gravely, her green eyes and carefully coiffed auburn hair advertising her Irish heritage. “We aim to please.”

He laughed. “You aim to take over the world, and we all know it,” he teased her. “I keep thinking I’ll walk in here some morning and find out you now hold the papers on the place.”

Her smile was pleased, but she demurred. “You know I wouldn’t do that without consulting you first,” she teased back.

His answering grin faded as his thoughts took in their past together. “You’re a good friend, Michelle. You know I never would have made a success of this place without you,” he told her solemnly. “Without you and Tony giving me moral support when our dad died, I never would have taken this on. I wouldn’t have had the guts.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t exaggerate, darling,” she told him in a motherly tone. “You always had more guts than all the rest of us put together.” She shook her head when he looked about to speak and turned to another topic. “By the way,” she mentioned casually. “How is your brother these days?”

“Tony?” Grant gave a quick thought to his once irascible older sibling. “Tony, as usual, could use a life.”

Michelle flashed a smile in his direction, but she didn’t pause as she counted out the change for the cash register. “Couldn’t we all?” she murmured.

He leaned against the counter, watching her with a thoughtful frown. “No, I really mean it about Tony. You and me, Michelle, we’re not the marrying kind. We’ve been there and done that and learned to avoid it. We know how to have our fun without entanglements and commitments. But Tony...” He grimaced. “Well, he’s got the kid and all and it’s making him nutty. He’s like a mother hen these days.” His frown deepened as he remembered his brother coming to the door in an apron with huge red apples painted all over it the last time he’d appeared unannounced at his door. “Damn it all, he needs a wife.”

Michelle nodded as she filled a bin with nickels, putting them in neat stacks. “Is there anyone on the horizon right now?” she asked him.

Grant shook his head. “Naw. He doesn’t even date. His whole life is wrapped up in his daughter, Allison. Ever since Mary died...” He glanced at Michelle, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground when criticizing his brother’s response to his wife’s death two years before. “Well, for the first year or so, you could understand it. I mean, Mary was wonderful and I think, if he hadn’t had Allison to take care of, he might have died, too. You know? His life just seemed to come to a stop.”

Michelle’s green eyes clouded. “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember.”

Grant nodded. “But now it’s time to move on. He needs a new woman in his life. That would turn things around, get him back in gear. If only I could find him someone...” His eyes brightened. “You know, I saw this girl the other day...” His voice trailed off as he thought of her.

Michelle looked up curiously. “What girl?”

“Hmm?” He met her gaze and realized he’d left her hanging. “Oh, this girl at the Farmers’ Market. I tried to hire her as a pastry chef but she turned me down.” He nodded slowly, thinking hard and coming to a decision. “You know, now that I think about it, she’d be perfect for Tony.”

“Who? This girl at the Farmers’ Market?”

“Why didn’t I realize this before?” He grew more excited about the idea as more details came to him. “She’s cuter than heck and she can cook and she’s got a kid, too.”

“Grant...”

He threw out his arms, amazed at how obligingly accommodating life could be. “I mean, how perfect can you get? They could have one of those...what do you call them? Blended families.”

Michelle laughed, looking as though she was tempted to give his dark hair an affectionate ruffle. Luckily she held back the impulse, but her tone was teasing. “Whoa there, pardner. Don’t you think you’re getting the cart before the horse? They haven’t even met yet and you’ve got them knitting booties together.”

He gazed at her earnestly. “What do you think, Michelle? What would happen if I tried a little matchmaking? Come on, you know Tony almost as well as I do. What do you think?”

Michelle hesitated, shaking her head as she studied his face. “I knew Tony once,” she admitted softly. “But ever since he came back from college with Mary on his arm...”

“Oh, come on. That was years ago.”

She raised a wise eyebrow. “Exactly my point.”

She began refilling saltcellars on the tables and he followed her, reaching out to open one for her. “So he got married and broke up that old gang of ours,” he murmured, handing her the empty container. “That doesn’t erase all those years growing up in the canyon and chasing each other around Lincoln Elementary.”

She turned to go to the next table, but a smile was beginning to tease the corners of her mouth.

He noted it and grinned, adding another recollection he knew she would share. “Or going to Mary Engle’s birthday party and ending up in her fishpond.”

She managed to force back her giggle but she couldn’t resist adding her own memory. “Or taking the bus down Lake Avenue from Eliot Junior High to go to the Rose Bowl Café for orange freezes,” she remembered reluctantly as she poured out another stream of white crystals.

He nodded his approval as he dropped into a chair right under where she was working. He had her now. He was going to need some expert female advice if he were going to match his brother up with a wife, and Michelle was the best manipulator he knew. “Or ditching high school,” he went on, adding another memory to lure her in, “piling into Tony’s old Chevy and heading down to Chavez Ravine to watch the Dodgers play in the World Series.”

“Gosh, we really did have fun in those days,” Michelle agreed, smiling broadly at last. Looking down at him, she shook her head. “Remember the beach parties at Lacuna?”

He nodded and rose, snagging a thorn-shaved white rose from the vase on the table and tucking it behind her ear. “Cruising Hollywood Boulevard with a car full of kids on a Saturday night?”

She grinned, touching the rose but leaving it where he’d put it. “Staying up all night on the sidewalk on New Year’s Eve to watch the Rose Parade?”

“And falling asleep before it came?”

They both laughed.

“The all-night gab sessions in your backyard?” he added.

“The proms at the Huntington Sheraton?” she chimed in, eyes narrowing as she remembered her slinky black velvet prom dress.

“It’s a Ritz-Carleton now.”

She frowned and waved as though to push reality away. “Don’t tell me that. I’m floating in the past.”

He sank into a chair at the table where they’d had lunch together and motioned for her to join him. “Well, float yourself over here and tell me what you think about my idea.”

She came, sliding in beside him, but her eyes didn’t smile. “To find Tony a mate?”

“Yeah.”

She looked him over with quiet affection. “If this person is so perfect, why don’t you snap her up yourself?” she asked him. “It’s about time you started getting serious again, don’t you think?”

Grant grimaced and looked away. Michelle was being very delicate and discreet. She hadn’t even mentioned Stephanie’s name. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in his family or circle of friends had mentioned her name since the divorce. Everyone assumed that the way she’d left had hurt him so badly, he couldn’t stand to be reminded. And for once, everyone was pretty much right.

Turning back, he flashed his friend a brilliant smile. “How can you say something like that? I thought you knew me better. I’m never serious.”

She covered his hand with her own and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe you should be,” she suggested softly.

He shook his head. “Not now. One Fargo brother at a time. And right now, I’m working on Tony. We’ve got to get him hitched.”

Michelle sat back and rolled her eyes. “I think you’d better forget it,” she advised. “If he figures out what you’re doing, he’ll kill you.”

He waved a forefinger at her. “Ah, but that’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it? I’ll be subtle. I’ll be tactful. I’ll masterfully manipulate events. He’ll never know what I’m doing until it’s too late.”

Michelle laughed, her white teeth glistening behind the slick Persian melon lipstick that was her trademark. The thought of this open-faced man pulling the wool over his brother’s eyes boggled the mind.

But before she could explain to him just how crazy this was, she saw his eyes change and saw him start to his feet, muttering, “My God, I can’t believe it,” and she turned to see a pretty young woman picking her way through the darkened restaurant, looking nervously from one side to the other.

Grant started toward her but Michelle followed more slowly. The woman was young, probably in her late twenties, and yet she had a youthful air that made her seem years younger. She was dressed in designer jeans and a pink sweater and her hair was in braids. This had to be the pretty pastry chef, and though she hid it behind a pleasant smile, unease hovered at the back of Michelle’s eyes. Here she was, the girl Grant had earmarked for Tony. Things were moving more quickly than she could have anticipated.

Jolene wasn’t sure what she was doing here. She’d turned a deaf ear to Mandy’s persuasion for two days, but this morning, when Kevin had banged his cup for orange juice and she’d heard herself explaining to him that there wouldn’t be enough money to buy things like that until after next Thursday, she’d realized she was just being stubborn. If the man needed a pastry chef, why not take the job? If it turned out her first instincts were right and he only wanted a date for the evening—well, if she could walk in, she could walk out. She was a grown woman. She ought to be able to handle it.

So here she was in this restaurant located at the edge of Old Town. It seemed nice enough. A decorator had worked hard to achieve just the right Southwestern flair. A large saguaro cactus stood brooding in the entryway and red tiles stretched as far as the eye could see. Desert palms appeared in clumps here and there, hiding tables and supply cabinets, and Mexican ceramics sat propped against faux-Navajo rugs.

There was someone working behind the bar and she started toward it, but before she got there, Grant appeared out of nowhere, heading her off at the pass.

“Hi,” he said, smiling at her, his gorgeous dark eyes shining. “I’m glad you decided to come take a look at us.”

She came to a stop, feeling just a bit awkward. A tall, elegant woman was walking up behind him and she glanced at her with a quick smile, then looked back at Grant.

“Is the job still open?” Jolene asked him abruptly.

He nodded, trying to stay serious but having a hard time hiding his reaction to her surprise arrival. “I’ve been holding it for you,” he fibbed, because after all, there hadn’t been any other applicants.