Sugar Rush by Elaine Overton Page B

quit. Say you quit.
    “I just left.” Truth be told, Eliot himself wasn’t sure why he didn’t quit. That would’ve been the best way to close any loose ends and have no additional questions asked.
    “Well, there! You see?”
    “Uncle Carl, I will not—”
    “Yes! You will.” Carl leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk. “Take as much time as you need. Move in if you have to, but get that book.”
    “Why this desire for their recipe book? Yesterday all you wanted was to put them out of business.”
    Carl stood straight. “That was before I actually tasted their product. I was out at Centerfield yesterday to talk to the head-mistress and try to get the contract back. She let me sample one of their pastries.”
    “And?”
    “Andit was damn good!” he snapped.
    “Why not just let me deal with it my way, through negotiation? I’m sure we can come to some kind of an agreement with them.”
    “Why should we, when we’ve got an inside man? You can just stroll out the door with the recipe book.”
    Eliot could only imagine what his uncle would say if he knew he’d had that opportunity already and passed it up. “I don’t know, Uncle Carl.” He thought, refusing to admit how appealing the idea of seeing Sophie again really was. “The first time was a fluke, and I got away with it. But this time…if I’m caught, we are opening ourselves up to all kinds of legal repercussions.”
    His uncle’s eyes narrowed in a familiar way. “Not if you do it right.”
    Eliot steepled his fingers on the desk. “You’re asking me to stealfrom these people.”
    A nasty grin came across Carl’s face. “Like you haven’t thought of it already. Don’t play with me, boy. I know you too well.” He huffed. “I’m just surprised you haven’t done it already.”
    Eliot felt the slight trace of shame wash over him at the truth of the words. “I’ll think about it,” he said, eager to be rid of his uncle.
    “No, you’ll do it. If you ever expect to sit in my chair, you’d better grow a pair and be prepared to do what must be done.” Carl turned and started to leave. “I expect updated reports of your progress.”
    When Eliot was alone again, he turned to look out the glass window overlooking downtown Memphis. His stomach twisted in knots as he considered how low he was willing to go to sit in his uncle’s chair.
    Carl knew how to get to him. He’d always known. Everything from the most effective ways to punishment a sensitive boy to all the many evil ways to tempt a man. Carl knew the most coveted prize in his possession, as far as his nephew was concerned, was control of Fulton Foods.
    It was the goal Eliot had spent his whole life working toward. Every aspect of his life had been built around the expectation that one day his uncle would turn over the reins. In his mind, it was the perfect vindication for the childhood he’d lost the day he moved into his uncle’s home.
    He’d always thought of himself in two parts. Just as history was divided in two parts—B.C. and A.D—his memories were divided into life Before Memphis and After Memphis.
    And until today he’d held the Before Memphis part of himself well under control. But something about that small-town bakery and the people there called to that young boy. He knew part of it was Mae and her warm and generous spirit. But part of it was Sophie and all the contradictions she presented.
    She was a sharp-minded businesswoman, but she was still trusting enough to let a total stranger walk out the door with their recipe book. She was professional and a fully capable manager, but the woman in her had instantly responded to the man in him. She made him think of what he could have been if he’d continued to be raised by his loving parents.
    But despite the way he felt when he was with her, Sophie Mayfield and her bakery were nothing more than a bump in the road on his way to the top. That was all he could allow her to be. He’d worked too long and hard to