Page 10 of Perfume Girl
“The insurance company called me.”
“And you didn’t think to check on me?”
“They told me no one was hurt.”
God, what an asshole. “I refuse to sell the store, Damien.”
“Then write me a check and we’re even.”
“They took my formulas—”
“Why don’t we do this later?”
“Do what?”
“Talk about why you should sell the store.” His eyes narrowed and his expression looked like condemnation.
“I’m not ready to do that.”
“What did the police say, babe?”
“Don’t call me that.”
He shrugged. “Any leads?”
“No.” I glanced at his co-worker self-consciously, and then looked back at him. “They stole my Orris oil.”
“That’s expensive, right?” He lowered his gaze. “Well, how was the trip to Orlando?”
“It didn’t work out.”
Damien glared at his sous-chef. The man headed for the door, leaving us alone at last.
“So you didn’t get the money from licensing?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I had to reschedule the meeting with Anna Rosenthal.”
“You went all that way for nothing?”
I refused to tell him I’d lost my perfume. I was already feeling vulnerable because this was the man who had always made everything better—right up until he made everything worse.
“What are you cooking?” I asked.
“Beef Wellington…your favorite.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “You doing okay?”
“Not really.” I squeezed back tears.
He rounded the counter and got closer to me…too close…and that familiar waft of his soft cologne clouded me in memories.
He was wearing one of mine.
“It’ll be okay.” His touch turned into a caress on my upper arm.
“I need it to be.”
He dragged me into a hug and I felt the crush of his chest against mine—that familiar scent of home.
I peered up at him. “We were good together once, weren’t we?”
