Page 10 of A Gingerbread Romance

She leaned over to whisper into Nancy’s ear and ask just as the minute hand on the clock ticked eight, when suddenly, the door pushed open again.

A silent gasp escaped Greta’s lips. Because in breezed Jonathan, of all people, dressed to kill in a tailored blue suit. Her pulse picked up as he offered a confident hello to the group. But he hadn’t noticed her yet, since he’d headed straight to the person nearest the door, making friendly introductions. With the ease of a political candidate who’d just won his race, the man she’d dreamed about all night shook hands and began making his way around the room.

Greta’s pulsed raced. What was he doing here? This was a strange coincidence, wasn’t it? She wondered nervously how to behave with him in this setting. It wouldn’t look very professional to be too chummy, even though they’d just spent the evening together. She cleared her throat and prepared herself for one of the meet-and-greet handshakes he was offering.

Her brow lifted cautiously as he rounded the table and finally stopped next to her chair. She swiveled partly around until their eyes met, and his head jerked back, his brow creasing. His smile faded quickly. “Greta?”

* * *

“What are you doing here?”he whispered, leaning in towards her. The boardroom had been nearly silent when he’d arrived, but fortunately, the group had taken to chatting.

“Well, I was hoping you could tellme.” Her tone was hushed. “My grandmother received a letter at the bakery this week summoning her to this meeting, but she’s out of town, and I’m the owner now, so I came in her place.”

He frowned. “Wait—the Smithfield isyourbakery?” he said softly, trying to hide the alarm in his voice.

How had he missed the fact that Greta, whom he’d admittedly been thinking about all morning—let alone all night after he’d dropped her off—owned one of the businesses involved in the building sales?

“Yes, my bakery. I inherited it from my grandmother a few weeks ago.”

She hadn’t been very specific last night, although he’d asked her plenty of questions about her shop.

How had he not put two-and-two together? He’d known very well that there was a bakery involved in this deal. Why hadn’t he asked for the name of her store, just to be sure?

Greta was not going to like the topic at hand, then. Not at all.

And now, nor was he.

A pit formed in the middle of his stomach. Just this morning, he’d decided he’d call today and ask her out for dinner. A proper date, at a place with nice tablecloths and a menu that offered more than chicken fingers and fries.

And it wasn’t because Wade would want him to. He’d had a great time last night, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even if he wasn’t sure if he was ready formore.

He licked his lips, which had gone dry, and glanced around. He’d stopped too long in front of Greta already. The others would be wondering what was going on. “Uh, sure, let’s discuss this afterwards, Ms. Ross.”

As much as he wanted to explain, now wasn’t the time, and the meeting needed to begin.

Moreover, it didn’t look very professional of him to stand there and discuss a personal issue with one of his clients’ tenants. Let alone the woman who’d been making his blood simmer all night.

Jonathan glanced at Brett and Elaine sitting on the other side of the room. They were high rolling clients who owned what was becoming a very respectable portion of Baltimore’s skyline.

For the past two years, they’d been branching out into some of the small but thriving towns in Maryland to purchase real estate and renovate it, then move clients in who could generate much higher revenues and thus, afford a much higher rent. They’d recently set their sights on small town eastern Pennsylvania.

New Haven Falls was their first stop, and Jonathan had been given the opportunity to work the deal for them. There would be more in store after this if everything went well, according to his boss.Hit a home run, Jon. There’s too much riding on this deal for anything less.

Not that Jonathan ever delivered anything less. Still, no matter how careful you were, there were always wrenches that might be thrown into every deal. What mattered was how you handled them.

And everything had been running smoothly until he’d seen Greta’s stunning face in the boardroom.

She was no wrench, though. More like a lamb for the slaughter, knowing Brett and Elaine.

He shot her a look that she hopefully understood to be a heartfelt apology, then offered a hand to the middle-aged, red-haired woman sitting next to Greta. “Jonathan Olsen. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nancy Wright,” the woman said with a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Nancy wasn’t smiling, though, not that he blamed her.

He finished shaking hands with the rest of the group at the table. Even so, his thoughts raced. What were the chances the Smithfield Bakery was Greta’s? He’d been given the name of the owner—a woman by the name of Weber, wasn’t it? Was that the grandmother Greta had told him about?

To be honest, it’s been difficult.Greta’s words last night. Rising costs and a trickling consumer demand… His heart sank so far, he could feel it in his feet.

Because Greta’s costs were about to rise even further, and there was very little he could do about it.

---