Page 27 of The Scent of Intuition
“Here we have almond torte,” Nick said as he picked up a plate with a square cake entirely covered in meringue and sugar-glazed almond slices. He set it down, and cut a few pieces to serve everyone.
The nutty aroma of marzipan enveloped Bea’s senses, and she liked the combination of the brittle meringue and the crunchy bite of the burned almond slivers. “This is delicious,” she said.
“Yes, but look at the decoration on this one,” Pippa said with sparkling eyes as she lifted a narrow but tall cylindrical cake. “He used a little of my last pineapple and has enough for another larger layer of cake if we choose this.” Pippa cast Alfie a warm smile. “He sent his compliments for your rose oil and said it was a lovely balance to the tang of the fruit.”
“Rose and pineapple?” Andre licked his fork clean and held out his empty plate. “I’m ready to form an educated opinion on the combination.”
“Certainly you are,” Nick chuckled.
“It does look rather pretty.” Bea admired the rippled creamy edge and the piped rosettes around the perimeter of the cake. Miniature pink marzipan flowers were set between the rosettes, and chocolate leaves stuck out from the sides. The top was a shiny layer of a bright yellow mousse, likely the pineapple.
Sliced, the cylindrical creation revealed about twenty thin layers of cake and alternating yellow and pale beige custard. It was a work of art.
When everyone had a piece on their plates, Bea set the edge of her fork onto the yellow cream. It sank through the layers effortlessly, and she lifted her fork to her mouth just as the faint scent of rose cream reached her nose. She tasted the tangy pineapple first. But what she felt most of all was a shiver down her back. Alfie was watching her.
*
There was nocake, not even the pretty ones with creamy rosettes and sculpted marzipan, that could rival the beauty standing no more than three feet from him. Bea had let out a moan and an elegant little sigh when she first tasted the almond torte. But when she licked her lips and opened her mouth for the pineapplecake, Alfie knew he’d lost his wits. It was the only logical explanation, since envying a piece of cake was stupid.
Nonsense really.
Yet Alfie couldn’t peel his eyes off her mouth.
At first, she touched her lower lip to the yellow mousse and darted her little pink tongue out just long enough for Alfie to turn rock-hard instantly.
He looked to Andre and Nick, hoping they’d be busy with the cakes as he shifted uncomfortably, restrained by his tight breeches.
But Andre gave him a knowing look.
Alfie turned away, but his gaze was drawn back to Bea’s mouth. He was a mess by now, ogling her like a starving man.
She took a tiny bite from one of the marzipan flowers on her fork, then she tilted her head and licked the bottom drop of the heavy cream off before it fell from her fork. Alfie observed the elegant curve of her neck, and with his eyes, he traced the wispy curl that lay so lightly on her skin as if it had landed there with the lightness of a down feather.
Alfie’s infatuation with her wasn’t going anywhere. He’d have to learn to manage it.
Andre elbowed him.
“Ouch!” Alfie mumbled but Andre shook his head in admonishment. It didn’t matter anymore, for Alfie was lost in the beauty of Bea’s sensuous mouth.
Her lips were moist and pink.
She chewed and closed her eyes. Even her fanned dark lashes were beautiful.
“Good cake?” Alfie croaked, trying to stop her from moaning lest he have to take an ice bath to cool himself off.
She blinked at him, her face flushing that adorable shade of pink. “Delicious.” Her voice came out raspy and a bit hoarse.
And even…seductive. Who knew that wedding cakes could be the thing that undid him?
Chapter Eleven
After the decisionto choose the pineapple and rose cake for the wedding was made, Alfie informed Bea that her order was ready. She followed him to his apothecary shop while the others went back to their usual business. Alfie secretly cherished the opportunity to be alone with her again—before the prince swept her off her feet and whisked her away to a faraway country. This time, he knew, he wouldn’t be so lucky as to be the apprentice catering to her. His place in life was in their London practice, with his friends.
“This is what I promised.” Alfie slid a fluted vial with a light-rose golden glow from the liquid inside illuminating the delicate grooves running vertically along its form. The glass stopper fit snugly to preserve the precious contents. “I have warmed it, and the scents all come together quite harmoniously.”
Bea took the vial and pushed the stopper down with her thumb. Then she looked at the small bottle in her hand and at Alfie, then back at it. Of all the containers, flasks, and boxes in his apothecary shop, he thought sadly, the one in her hand had the power to alter her life. And his. “What if it works?” she whispered.
He wasn’t sure whether he should answer, but his heart lurched when her eyes searched his for something he mustn’t give. But he couldn’t stop himself.
