Trust Me by Laura Florand

Author:Laura Florand [Florand, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: AOS Publishing
Published: 2017-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Jake Adams sure did run fast when things started to get intimate, didn’t he? Lina thought the next day as she spread a pastry cream infused with orange blossom water on a crust of ground walnuts and almond flour that had been lightly sweetened with date sugar, combined with a faint hint of cinnamon.

She should have been offended, and possibly she was, but what was a hot affair without a dose of angst?

It might be terribly French of her, but she’d take being the woman in a screwed up love affair over being the woman in a screwed up terrorist plot any day.

She made the pastry cream as erotic as she could. As lush and full of sensual promise as was humanly possible. Her hands were starting to warm after her latest bout with a recalcitrant dragon. She’d finally gotten the damn thing to fly upright, but when she tried to make it roar it looked as if it was sticking its tongue out at her. Either that or trying to “French” kiss her, which probably just about figured for a French dragon.

(Meanwhile, maybe her dragon could give a certain American a few lessons in kissing. Because he hadn’t kissed her once. That would teach her to get involved with someone from a country so hung up about kissing they had to blame even that on the French.)

She sliced barhi dates so fine each slice was translucent. They were in the rutab stage at this time of year, only partially yellow, crisp like an apple. Later they would get softer, sweeter, more mellow, earning their honeycream nickname. But she wanted to try them now. Be the first pastry chef in Paris to truly exploit all that dates could be, in all their stages.

She placed each translucent slice carefully at an angle to the riverlike curving base of cream and gazed at that, dissatisfied. Maybe more fanciful? The slices arranged like a flower here at the edge, just so, a blossom of difference, of the unexpected. For the vast majority of her clients, the first time they ever bit into a date at this stage of maturity would be at her tables.

If she got the chance. The restaurant was going to stay closed through August, the traditional vacation month for non-tourist restaurants anyway, which would leave only a very short window for barhi dates in this stage to still be available.

She gazed at her dessert, frustrated by how sweet it looked. How smooth. It looked like a damn lie.

She poured a sheet of caramelized sugar, let it harden, and then smashed it, picking the shards of it and sticking them at dangerous angles into the base of custard cream where they glowed with amber in the light.

Better. Now she needed to do something completely different with the original flowing river form of the base and with the barhi date flower, though.

Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, didn’t recognize the number, and ignored it. Her publicist was supposed to field media requests, but sometimes they got hold of her private number.

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