earlier today. They’re ready to move forward on this ASAP.”
“Damn, they’re that eager to cut us that fat advance check?” Malik asked.
“More likely they’re eager to jump on the bandwagon of the Brothers Who Bake blog,” Carter said. “Can’t say I blame them.”
“My entry with the white chocolate, macadamia and pineapple cake bars had over five thousand hits,” Malik bragged.
“That’s a good recipe. We need to include that one in the book,” Drake said, grabbing a pen and steno pad from a side table. “We also need to figure out who will write which portions. It makes sense for Carter to do the entire section on cake baking and decorating, since that’s his specialty. Malik, you’re the guy who does brownies, cookies and bars.”
“Hey, I do more than just that,” Malik said with an affronted frown.
“We all do more than just one thing,” Drake pointed out. “And we’re all going to have some input into everything that goes in the book. But I think for the first pass, we should work with our strengths.”
“Have they set a deadline yet?” Carter asked, thinking about his own timetable. He knew he would have to make a decision about the job in New York sooner rather than later, and with the You Take the Cake competition coming up, and the mystery that was Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes now occupying every bit of space in his brain, his mental plate was full.
“Once we sign the book contract, we have six months to get the first draft to them,” Drake said. “And that includes detailed recipes and photographs. I think the smartest way to tackle this is to brainstorm the recipes we want to include in the book, and clear an afternoon so we can bake them. We hire a photographer to come in and take all the shots, and it’s done.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Carter said.
“So, we’re definitely doing this, right?” Drake asked.
“I’m in,” Malik said.
“Hell yeah,” Carter added. “With the blog, this book and You Take the Cake, Lillian’s is about to hit the big time.”
He just wondered if he would be around to see it all happen.
* * *
Lorraine used the pad of her thumb to fill in the white space on the canvas. She was working with charcoal today. It was a medium she rarely used, but the somber shades of gray matched her melancholy mood.
It never ceased to amaze her how rapidly things could go downhill.
Last night had started out practically perfect. Carter had been the ultimate flirt, but also the consummate gentleman, to the point of almost charming her right out of her panties.
Almost.
Thank goodness she had not succumbed to her body’s craving. In the light of day, without the romance of a fancy dinner and Carter Drayson’s deadly charm clouding her judgment, Lorraine knew that going home with him last night would have been detrimental to the image she’d cultivated over the past five years, not to mention the delicate trust she’d been able to build with her parents.
For that alone Lorraine was grateful to the photographer who’d snapped those photos last night. But that was all she was grateful for. She resented the complete disregard for her privacy, and with the emergence of additional online social media, it seemed to get worse every year.
She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could keep her identity hidden from Carter any longer, and the thought left her heartbroken. She could usually count on at least a few weeks of being able to just be herself before she was forced to don the Hawthorne-Hayes mantle. Carter would treat her differently; men always did once they discovered she was heiress to part of her family’s jewelry empire.
“They can keep their empire,” she said as she swiped the charcoal across the canvas with violent strokes.
The guilt that followed was immediate and stinging in its intensity.
She had enjoyed the type of life many people dreamed of. She’d attended the best schools, dressed in the best clothes and had visited more than
“Damn, they’re that eager to cut us that fat advance check?” Malik asked.
“More likely they’re eager to jump on the bandwagon of the Brothers Who Bake blog,” Carter said. “Can’t say I blame them.”
“My entry with the white chocolate, macadamia and pineapple cake bars had over five thousand hits,” Malik bragged.
“That’s a good recipe. We need to include that one in the book,” Drake said, grabbing a pen and steno pad from a side table. “We also need to figure out who will write which portions. It makes sense for Carter to do the entire section on cake baking and decorating, since that’s his specialty. Malik, you’re the guy who does brownies, cookies and bars.”
“Hey, I do more than just that,” Malik said with an affronted frown.
“We all do more than just one thing,” Drake pointed out. “And we’re all going to have some input into everything that goes in the book. But I think for the first pass, we should work with our strengths.”
“Have they set a deadline yet?” Carter asked, thinking about his own timetable. He knew he would have to make a decision about the job in New York sooner rather than later, and with the You Take the Cake competition coming up, and the mystery that was Lorraine Hawthorne-Hayes now occupying every bit of space in his brain, his mental plate was full.
“Once we sign the book contract, we have six months to get the first draft to them,” Drake said. “And that includes detailed recipes and photographs. I think the smartest way to tackle this is to brainstorm the recipes we want to include in the book, and clear an afternoon so we can bake them. We hire a photographer to come in and take all the shots, and it’s done.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Carter said.
“So, we’re definitely doing this, right?” Drake asked.
“I’m in,” Malik said.
“Hell yeah,” Carter added. “With the blog, this book and You Take the Cake, Lillian’s is about to hit the big time.”
He just wondered if he would be around to see it all happen.
* * *
Lorraine used the pad of her thumb to fill in the white space on the canvas. She was working with charcoal today. It was a medium she rarely used, but the somber shades of gray matched her melancholy mood.
It never ceased to amaze her how rapidly things could go downhill.
Last night had started out practically perfect. Carter had been the ultimate flirt, but also the consummate gentleman, to the point of almost charming her right out of her panties.
Almost.
Thank goodness she had not succumbed to her body’s craving. In the light of day, without the romance of a fancy dinner and Carter Drayson’s deadly charm clouding her judgment, Lorraine knew that going home with him last night would have been detrimental to the image she’d cultivated over the past five years, not to mention the delicate trust she’d been able to build with her parents.
For that alone Lorraine was grateful to the photographer who’d snapped those photos last night. But that was all she was grateful for. She resented the complete disregard for her privacy, and with the emergence of additional online social media, it seemed to get worse every year.
She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could keep her identity hidden from Carter any longer, and the thought left her heartbroken. She could usually count on at least a few weeks of being able to just be herself before she was forced to don the Hawthorne-Hayes mantle. Carter would treat her differently; men always did once they discovered she was heiress to part of her family’s jewelry empire.
“They can keep their empire,” she said as she swiped the charcoal across the canvas with violent strokes.
The guilt that followed was immediate and stinging in its intensity.
She had enjoyed the type of life many people dreamed of. She’d attended the best schools, dressed in the best clothes and had visited more than
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