Page 7 of Tempting Mr. Knightly

“Sometimes you’re terrifying.” Lucy meant it as a compliment.

“I can be,” Tessa said. “And I want you to handle all the desserts; my team will handle the rehearsal dinner catering. Full menu.”

“Full menu. For how many?”

“Two hundred, give or take. The Beauchamps are involved, so the guest list keeps growing.”

“Two hundred.” Lucy’s mind was already running numbers. Ingredient costs, prep timeline, staff hours. “That’s a serious job, Tess.”

“Yes, and I want the best.”

Lucy leaned against the counter. Her back ached from four hours of baking, and the ache was familiar and good. “Tess. I’d love to. You know I would. Tell me the details and I’ll get it all worked out.”

“There’s a planning meeting this Thursday. There at the bakery, if that’s okay. I want to talk through the menu in person.”

“Of course. Besides, this is my turf, and I work better here.” She grabbed a pen from the register and flipped open the scheduling notebook she kept beside the cash drawer. “Thursday at ten. Who’s coming?”

“Ronan, Gabriel, Devney, and me.” Tessa paused. The pause lasted one beat too long.

Lucy’s pen stopped. “Who else?”

“And Knox. He’s the best man. He’s managing the budget.”

The pen pressed hard enough against the paper to leave a dent. Lucy stared at the scheduling notebook and willed her heartbeat to stay even. It beat high in her throat instead. She was a professional. She ran a business. She’d dealt with difficult clients, impossible timelines, and a Brooklyn health inspector who’d once questioned whether her sourdough starter constituted a “controlled fermentation environment.” She could handle one man at a planning meeting.

“Lucy? You still there?”

“I’m here. Knox is fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“You said fine three times.”

“Because it’s three times fine. We’re adults. We can sit in a room together and discuss cake flavors without incident.”

“Can you, though?” Tessa’s tone was gentle, and gentle from Tessa was dangerous because it meant she’d been thinking about this.

“What you saw was a temporary lapse in judgment brought on by champagne and poor lighting.”

“The lighting was excellent. I picked it myself.”

“Tess.”

“I’m not pushing.” Another pause. “But your name keeps coming up. He doesn’t change the subject like he should.”

“Coming up how?”

“How you’re doing. Whether the bakery is busy. Normal things that sound casual unless you know Knox, in which case they’re the equivalent of a five-alarm emergency.”

“He’s making conversation. Billionaires do that. They network. It’s compulsive.”

“He’s not networking, Lucy. He asked Ronan what kind of flour you use.”

“What kind of flour?” she repeated, because her brain needed a moment to catch up.

“Ronan didn’t know. He Googled it.”

“He what?”

“He looked it up. It’s on your website.”