Page 28 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

Chloe snorted. ‘My mother would drive anyone insane.’

‘Not quite what I meant.’ He grinned into his beer. ‘She’s become a friend.’

‘I’m surprised.’

‘Since your father died, I’ve done the odd job every now and again for her. Helped her through the death admin.’

‘She could have asked me.’ Chloe’s voice was tight. ‘And she had Hannah.’

‘Hannah had the kids to deal with and was grieving, too. I was here. Dulcie’s a good friend of my mum’s. Suppose it was natural to turn to me.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Although if you could have seen me poring over the paperwork this afternoon, you’d wonder why.’

He heard her suck in a deep breath and shake her head as if to get rid of something. ‘Not your strong point?’ she asked eventually.

‘Most definitely not. Give me a surfboard and some big waves any time. That sort of stuff does my head in. Don’t find it easy at all.’

A smile flickered at the corner of Chloe’s mouth. He admired how full her bottom lip was. Too temptingly kissable. ‘I’m good at it.’

‘Of course you are.’ He nudged her gently, shoulder to shoulder.

‘I could have a look sometime, if you like?’

‘You would?’ Nik was amazed.

‘I like using that part of my brain. And, as I say, I’m good at it. Probably would only take me an afternoon or so to lick it into shape.’

Nik ignored the implied criticism. It was justified. He clinked his pint glass with her wine. Or would have done had they not been plastic. The glasses gave off a faint, vaguely wet thunk instead.

‘Great. It’ll give me something to do. I’m bored,’ she admitted.

‘Bored. How can you be? You’ve done nothing but rush around ever since you got back, beach cleaning, tackling the bakery.’

Chloe screwed up her face. ‘I like to be busy. Got a lot of energy.’

Another image crowded Nik’s brain. Of Chloe being busy and energetic with him. Naked. In a bed. Stop! he implored the pictures in his head. This is not doing me any good. It’s not helping at all.

Michael Jackson had long since finished. A few people had begun to dance around the firepit, their bodies bathed in the flickering orange and red glow. ‘Into the Groove’ started up.

‘Would you like to dance?’ He knew she’d refuse but he’d blurted it out in desperation. It was too intimate sitting here, lounging on a hay bale, the straw poking into the back of his legs. Half of him wanted to stop thinking about her. Half of him needed to pull her to him, to feel her against the length of his body.

‘Why not.’ She drained her wine, put the glass on the grass and stood up decisively. Turning, she extended a hand. To his astounded face she said, ‘What’s the matter, Nik? Scared?’

He was. He was terrified. But he refused to show it. Remember, play it cool. ‘Of Madonna?’

‘Of me.’ An amused smile played about her lips.

He stood, looking down at her. ‘I’m not scared of you, Chloe.’ Putting an arm around her slender waist, he pulled her against him, quickly, with force. She uttered a surprised squeak. At that precise moment the music changed. ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ dripped like honey from the speakers. Instantly everything slowed to a sensual rhythm. Dancers entwined, whispers were promised, seductive. ‘Ah,’ Nik said awkwardly. ‘Perhaps we should sit back down?’

She lifted her arms and placed them around his neck. He could feel the fullness of her breasts pressing against him. He stifled a groan of arousal.

‘Oh, you don’t get out of it that easily, Surf Boy,’ Chloe said. Standing on tiptoes, she whispered into his ear. ‘Dance with me.’

CHAPTER 15

It was very early on Sunday morning. Chloe was in the bakery prepping the paint stuff ready to give it its new look. The others had yet to appear. She hadn’t switched on Pammy’s ancient and battered transistor radio, preferring the quiet of the morning.

She crouched on the floor, stirring the tin of Golden Yellow thoughtfully. The colour was bright and cheerful and would warm up the selling and café area. Eventually, she planned on adding highlight notes of turquoise, maybe in the awning if she ever got one. She always thought the colours summed up Cornwall. Turquoise for the sea and sky and gold for the sun and sand. Perhaps she should add white as a highlight – to represent the froth of the surf. It was funny how places had colours. London was all steel-grey buildings and red buses. Devon deep green, blue and sensual clotted cream.

The stirring slowed to a stop as her thoughts drifted to last night and being in Nik’s arms. She supposed it was funny that the classic eighties smooch song had begun as soon as they’d agreed to dance. She didn’t know what had come over her. She hadn’t been drunk. It had been something to do with the atmosphere of the evening, and stupidly, the revelation that Nik was RNLI. Growing up by the sea she knew the vital role lifeboat crew had. Of course, Nik volunteered. He spent his days near or in the water, it made perfect sense. And, to her, it made him heroic and honourable. The men she’d known in London had been gym-honed but cerebral. Using their wit and cleverness to get ahead of anyone else. To win the game. Nik had revealed himself to be different. He put himself in danger on behalf of other people. And, being Cornish, she knew only too well the danger the sea could pose. She shivered as she felt his strong arms around her waist again, pulling her to him. His body had been warm and hard and exciting. The infatuation, or crush, or whatever it had been at school, was returning, only now it had an added layer of depth. One laced with the thrill of adulthood. Shaking her head, she began stirring paint vigorously. Nik had been perfectly friendly, perfectly polite and completely, implacably reserved. His Swedish heritage, or just the way he was? Either way he gave little away. She had no clue how he felt about her. And besides, she remonstrated with herself, remember you’re not staying around long to find out. Get the bakery going, get a job in the city and get the hell out of Dodge, girl.