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Sugar Rush
Elaine Overton
For bakery owner Sophie Mayfield, life is getting sweeter by the minute. She's managed to keep her family's cherished business from being acquired by mega-grocery-chain Fulton Foods. And her new employee Eliot Wright is as appealing–and oh-so-chocolate-fine–as he is hardworking and talented.But then Sophie discovers that Eliot isn't exactly who he says he is. And she's sure he's hungry for only one thing: her boutique bakery's bottom line. Now a love-struck Eliot will have to do whatever it takes to win back Sophie's trust–and prove that he truly is her Mr. Right….
Eliot leaned closer, his soft musk cologne drifting into Sophie’s nose
She tried to focus on the dough they were kneading, but her eyes kept drifting to his profile as he moved his face right beside hers. She watched with a dry mouth as he leaned forward to collect more flour from the big bowl, the muscles in his biceps flexing with the motion. When did they start building bakers like this, she thought?
Pounding the dough with more flour, he wrapped his hands around hers and continued to knead. “See? You’re getting the hang of it…that’s it.”
Sophie tried to focus on the dough and not the man behind her. Beside her. Surrounding her.
“Push…pull, and turn.” His soft breath was tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. “There you go.” He spoke like a patient coach, and she wanted to form something wonderful out of the dough just to satisfy him.
“See, I knew you could do it.” He turned and looked at her, bringing their lips within inches of each other. His minty breath was warm and she found herself licking her dry lips, which brought his eyes straight to her mouth.
They continued to stare at each other, neither breaking eye contact for even a moment. Unable to stop herself, she licked her dry lips again and it seemed to be some kind of a signal to him, because he leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers.
ELAINE OVERTON
Elaine Overton resides in the Detroit area with her son. She attended a local business college before entering the military and serving in the Gulf War.
She is an administrative assistant currently working for an automotive-industry supplier, and is an active member of Romance Writers of America. You can contact her via e-mail at her Web site, www.elaineoverton.com.
Sugar Rush
Elaine Overton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
First, to my Lord and Savior, thank you for the many
everyday miracles you provide me with. So much of
what you do goes unrecognized. To God be the glory!
To my readers, I don’t know how you all do it, but you
always seem to write me those wonderfully encouraging
e-mails just when I need to hear it most. Thank you all
for your continued support.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read El and Sophie’s story. I’ve been wanting to do a mistaken identity story for a long time. I’ve always found something intriguing about the idea of falling in love with someone, learning all about them at a core level and yet finding out that you really know nothing about them on the surface.
I hope you have enjoyed getting to know the Mayfield Bakery family—Mama Mae, Wayne, Dante and Lonnie—as much as I enjoyed creating them. I love hearing from readers, so feel free to e-mail me at Elaine@elaineoverton.com, or write me at P.O. Box 51565, Livonia, Michigan 48151, and let me know what you thought of the book.
Until next time,
Elaine
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Prologue
Galveston, TX
Sitting on the deck of his beachfront home, Alberto Montagna was having second thoughts about accepting his new assignment. Although in truth it was more than second thoughts, it was more like the seventieth time he’d told himself to call his agency and tell them to rescind his acceptance of the offer.
It seemed so unfair that he, Alberto Montagna, one of the greatest bakers of all times, was reduced to accepting an assignment in some small-town bakery whose only appeal was its lack of appeal.
You must hide, his lover, Carlotta, had said. My husband is a powerful man with a fierce temper, she’d said. He will destroy you in both name and body, she’d said.
Of course, the greatest problem was that she’d not said any of this soon enough! Actually, she’d said it after they’d made love and with the forenamed husband storming up the stairs toward the bedroom.
Alberto absently rubbed his puffy cheek. Good, he thought, the swelling was finally going down. Lifting his lightweight tunic he checked the red, sore patches covering his flat midsection. They, too, were starting to heal.
He shivered, remembering the beating he’d received at the hands of Max Gonzales. Each punch had felt like a stone being pounded against his body. But the beating had not been enough.
Just as Carlotta had predicted, Max Gonzalez had dedicated himself to making sure Alberto could not find a job at any decent bakery or restaurant in the tristate area. Alberto had been seriously considering packing up his house and moving to Europe when his agent, Tom, had told him about a little bakery in Tennessee.
Tom suggested he take the job, lay low and allow Max Gonzalez to cool off. Perhaps if he waited six months or so, then he could return to his beloved Texas. It was a good idea. But, the closer it came to the time to commit, the more he began to reconsider his options.
Just then his cell phone rang and he answered. “Hello?”
“Alberto, my love. I have left Max.”
Alberto sat up in his chair. It was difficult to hear over the noise in the background. “Carlotta?! Is that you, my angel?”
“Yes, I’m at the airport in Houston. My flight to New York leaves soon. Can you meet me there? At our special place?”
Despite pain in all parts of his body Alberto shot to his feet. “I’ll be there by midnight, sweet darling.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, her sultry voice sending an erotic thrill throughout his whole body. “And, Alberto, be careful.”
Chapter 1
Memphis, TN
Carlton Fulton stormed down the long, plush-carpeted corridor leading to the office of the chief financial officer of Fulton Foods. It was midafternoon on an unusually hot May day and the roll of documents twisted in his tight, knuckled fist was moist with the sweat of his hand. His full lips were stretched taut against his somber brown face. Seeing the vein throbbing at his temple, his employees hurried in every direction away from him.
Without knocking he threw open the double doors to the executive suite that matched his in size and comfort. The startled secretary inside bounded to her feet.
“Good morning, Mr. Fulton.” She forced a smile, but he could see the fear in her eyes.
“Is he in there?” he practically growled, nodding toward the closed oak-paneled door behind her desk.
“Um, yes, sir. Should I let him know—”
Before she could finish, Carl stormed by her desk and slammed open the door. He walked to the edge of the desk, behind which a young man sat, distracted by a phone call.
The young man on the phone was his nephew, Eliot Wright. Eliot bore such a striking resemblance to a younger version of Carl that many people assumed he was Carl’s son and not that of his only sister.
The younger man glanced up with a puzzled expression. In answer to his unspoken question Carl held up the crumpled papers in his hand. Eliot slightly lifted an arched black eyebrow, his expressive brown eyes showing nothing more than mild curiosity.
Even in his fury, Carl found he was impressed by his nephew’s unflappability. Eliot had changed a great deal over the years, Carl thought with pride. He was a strong, forceful man who got the job done no matter what it took, no longer the timid little boy who almost wet himself when asked his name. Carl took full credit for the transformation.
“Look, Steve,” Eliot said into the receiver. “Something has come up. Just let me know when you get the meeting set up.”
Carl tapped his foot rapidly, depleting what little patience he had as he waited for the call to end.
“All right, try to make it sometime this week. Talk to you later.” Eliot returned the phone to the cradle and sat back in his high-back leather chair. “Morning, Uncle Carl. I would say good morning, but it’s obviously not.”
“It certainly is not!” Carl tossed the balled-up papers on the desk. “This is the third major account we’ve lost to that little hole in the wall. The third, Eliot! What are you doing about this?!”
Eliot picked up the papers and attempted to unmangle them as much as possible.
His eyes glanced over the pages and a low “Hmm” was his only answer as he read through the discharge letter from one of their major accounts. “When did you receive this?”
“This morning—by e-mail, no less! They didn’t even have the decency to call and tell us they were canceling the contract.” He leaned across the desk to point out something in the e-mail. “See that?”
Eliot’s brows crinkled in confusion. “That can’t be right.”
“You better believe it is! Morningside, those smug bastards, wanted us to know just how much they were sticking it to us.”
“No wonder Mayfield Bakery got the contract. That’s an excellent bid.” Eliot muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Carl only glared at him in response.
Realizing his mistake, Eliot flipped through the few pages. “I mean, Morningside is a four-hundred-bed nursing home.”
“I think you’re missing the point,” Carl hissed through his teeth, trying not to reach across the desk and strangle his nephew.
Eliot continued to read, seeming to have forgotten Carl’s presence, but Carl knew despite his nonchalance his nephew didn’t miss anything. And he had the uncanny ability to comprehend a complicated situation in a matter of minutes.
