Page 18 of Rafael

She paused mid-stir of a new batch of Motion Lotion designed to ease stiff, arthritic joints in her elderly customers like Donna LaDue. What had she just added to the recipe?

Focus.

She needed to get the ingredients right or she’d end up sending sexual stimulation lotion home with old lady LaDue.

Damn.

Because she couldn’t remember what she’d put in the pot, she dumped the whole batch down the drain and started over. What a waste of time and ingredients.

When she added each ingredient, she made a note on a piece of paper, forcing her mind to remain on task until the last item had been added.

Gisele made it through the batch of Motion Lotion and moved on to LP#9.

She’d lost half a dozen bottles of this product in the break-in. She sold a lot of Lip Plump #9 to the ladies. They loved it and swore it helped give them fuller and plumper lips.

By the time the sun appeared, Gisele had a dozen bottles of LP#9 and Motion Lotion lined up on her kitchen table. She’d have to make a visit soon to her grand-mère’s place on the bayou for more of the secret ingredients she used in both items.

Tired, but ready to begin the day, Gisele ducked into the shower for a quick rinse, then spent time taming her long black hair into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She took a little more time than usual with her make-up. Not to impress Rafael, she told herself. More to bolster her confidence for when she thanked him and escorted him to the door.

Soon, he’d be out of her shop and out of her life.

She should have been happy at that thought, but she wasn’t.

“He’s a ladies’ man. You don’t have time for his kind of nonsense,” she muttered as she left her apartment and descended the stairs.

Her hand was poised with the key to the shop when the door opened, and Rafael greeted her with a smile, a cup of coffee and a bag that smelled like fresh donuts. “Thought you could use some sustenance since you were up at three-thirty.”

So much for treading lightly.

She stared at the mug and the bag.

“Cinnamon latte with an extra dash of milk,” he said waving the cup under her nose. “And the bag contains a chocolate éclair. Both are from the Bayou Bakery.”

Gisele frowned. “How?—”

“I didn’t leave if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “Shelby called on her way to her early morning shift and asked if I wanted anything from the bakery. It gave her my order and asked her to pick up your usual.”

Her frown deepened. “You know my usual? What are you? Some kind of stalker?”

He laughed. “No. I jog in the early morning and saw you leave the bakery one morning with a coffee and a bag just like this. It’s a small town. I figured thewoman who ran the bakery would know what you liked.”

“Amelia,” Gisele nodded. “I don’t even have to order. She knows what I like.” She looked up into Rafael’s face. Moments earlier, she’d been intent on showing him the door. To do so now would be rude. “Thank you.” She took the coffee and the bag from his outstretched hands and carried them to the back of the store where she had a worktable and two chairs.

He could stay until she’d consumed at least half the cup of legal stimulant. Then she’d walk him to the door.

He followed her and held one of the chairs as she sank into it. Then he dropped into the other, wrapped his hand around another insulated cup of coffee and nodded toward a half-eaten jelly-filled donut. “They make the best jelly-filled donuts.”

Gisele pulled the éclair out of the bag and inhaled its rich fragrance. “Amelia trained in France. She can make some of the most beautiful French pastries.”

“Why isn’t she working in New York or New Orleans?”

“Instead of being stuck in a backwater town like Bayou Mambaloa?” Gisele sipped her coffee and closed her eyes as the warm liquid flowed down her throat and all the way into her belly. “She came here from New Orleans. Rumor has it she had a bad breakup or a run-in with another chef.” She picked up the éclair. “New Orleans’ loss and our gain.” Gisele took a bite from the éclair, glad to chew the sweet pastry. With a mouthful, she wouldn’t be expected to keep up the conversation. Which was a good thing, because the only thing she could think to say was to ask him why he’d kissed her.

“I was thinking…” Rafael cradled his coffee cup. “And maybe the sheriff already asked you... Is there anyone you’ve angered recently? Someone who might be carrying a grudge?”

She shrugged. “Not that I can think of.”

“A competing business wanting yours to fail?”

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