Sugar Rush by Elaine Overton

give it a hell of a try. How else can we grow? The market we’re in is saturated. There are dozens of small neighborhood bakeries in this area. But Fulton has a monopoly on all the larger contracts.” She counted off on her fingers. “The schools, hospitals, municipalities. If we can just get these first few contracts fulfilled to each client’s satisfaction, we can start building some reputation equity. Does that make any sense?”
    His eyes had narrowed on her face as he listened intently. “Yes, sorta like a fighter training to move into a different weight category. Light to middle, middle to heavy.”
    She laughed. “Exactly! That’s a terrific analogy. And that’s where you come in.” She looked directly at him. “If we are going to be a premier bakery, we need a premier chef.”
    He nodded, looking down at the floor. “I’m flattered, but I must admit that I don’t see the need. Mama Mae’s pastries are exceptional. The quality and taste could compete with anything Fulton puts out.”
    Sophie glanced at the door. “My grandmother is a talented baker, but she’s not a young woman, El. She’s getting up in age, and sometimes she…sometimes she forgets things. We are really going to be under the gun in the next few months, and I don’t want that kind of pressure on her.” She reached over and laid her hand on the big recipe book. “I was hoping you could take a look at her book and learn the basics as well as some of the fancier designs she doesn’t really do on a daily basis. And we’ll incorporate those into our new menu.”
    El’s eyes came up to hers in surprise. “You want me to learn her recipes?” He glanced at the door. “Is she okay with that?”
    Sophie smiled. “Look, I know where you come from must be ultracompetitive, and bakers would probably kill before revealing their recipes. But my grandmother bakes and cooks because she loves it. Truth is, she’d probably give the stuff away if she could.” She shook her head. “There is not a competitive bone in her body. I only ask that you not share her recipes. My grandmother may not care one way or the other, but those recipes are the lifeblood of this bakery. Without them we would be destroyed.”
    El nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
    He understood, she thought. “Good. Now is there anything you would like from me?”
    El stood. “No, that pretty much covers it.”
    “Oh, wait!” She reached across the desk and picked up a manila folder. “I need you to fill out the contact sheet and tax forms. And your health insurance information is inside, as well.”
    “You offer medical benefits?” he asked, opening the folder.
    “Yes. Didn’t Tom tell you that?”
    “Yes—of course. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He glanced through the pages. “It probably cost you a fortune with such a small staff.”
    She shrugged. “It ain’t cheap, but I owe it to them. I owe it to you.”
    Eliot just looked at her for several moments, and she had no idea what he was thinking. It wasn’t like the flirty little look he’d given her earlier. This look was more like he was trying to work something out in his head. Although she had no idea what. “Everything okay?”
    He nodded and held up the folder. “I’ll read it over and bring it back tomorrow.”
    “Oh wait.” Sophie reached over and tried to pick up the recipe book, but it was too heavy. “Did you want to take the recipe book with you to look over tonight?”
    He stared at the book for several long seconds, just the way he’d stared at her, and finally shook his head. “No, I’ll look it over later.” He started to leave again, and paused. “Um, I may not be in tomorrow.”
    She started to protest but held back. The man had just arrived in town. Of course he would need some time to get himself settled. As much as they needed his skills, it was only fair to give him some time.
    “Sure, no problem,” she said. “And El, again, welcome. I know this is not the type of environment