Alva squeezed his hand with surprising strength, even as her eyes glittered. "I am so excited, I simply can't wait to spread the news about your show being filmed right here! In our very own cupcake shop!" She beamed at Lani. "Imagine!"

"Imagine," Lani echoed with a faint smile, and far less enthusiasm. Okay, without any enthusiasm. But she didn't exactly leap in to dissuade Alva from her excitement or her stated mission.

Baxter took that as a positive sign. Though he was already grasping at the slenderest of straws if he could interpret anything about Leilani's current demeanor as a positive sign.

"Wait until I tell Beryl! Dee Dee and Suzette will be beside themselves, now!" The bells jingled as Alva made her merry exit.

Baxter wouldn't have been surprised if the spry little thing had clicked her heels and skipped across the small town square. She'd have been quite the vision in her matronly pumps.

"How dare you."

Baxter turned back to face the heat, thinking he'd taken far, far worse in his climb up the ladder, toiling in downright volatile kitchens the likes of which Leilani couldn't possibly even imagine. He was no stranger to battle.

Yet, one look at her intractable expression, and he felt at a slight disadvantage. If they ever created Iron Pastry Chef, she'd win the contest hands down on glower ability alone.

"I do apologize," he said, moving a step closer. "Heartily, in fact. I'd intended to talk with you this morning, but we got rather-"

"You got," she corrected. "I was working, minding my own business. Literally."

Baxter studied her more closely and realized she wasn't angry-well, she was angry-so much as flustered, which probably explained at least a percentage of her annoyance. The woman he'd worked with, taught, and been consistently amazed by, had never once been flustered. Not that she'd shown outwardly at any rate. At that moment, Lani was anything but the serene Snow White, whistling, so to speak, while she worked. Rather more like the dark queen. With something to hide. Namely, the reason she was flustered.

Interesting. And so unlike her.

He walked toward the counter, determined to get to the root of it. "I was going to say sidetracked," he finished, smiling and determined to simply brazen it out. If she really was angry with him, she was going to have to back it up with an explanation. And if he was making her nervous ... then he wanted to know more about that.

"If you'd wanted a meeting, you should have called ahead and scheduled one," she said, talking faster, with more heat, the closer he got. "You come in, unannounced, and throw off my entire morning schedule-"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and sincerely. He thought it was probably the latter part that abruptly ended her tirade. He had meant it. He wanted to be amused by her flustered demeanor, rattle her out of it, so they could both calm down and get on with things. Instead, he found it bothered him. More so because he was somehow the source of it.

It truly was the oddest thing, this protective feeling he had. A delightful Snow White she might normally be, but with that steel in her spine, he was equally certain she could handle all seven dwarves and the evil queen, with one hand strapped behind her back, and a smile on her lovely face. In fact, she often had, he thought, when he considered what the kitchens had been like at Gateau during a service crush.

"That's why I came early, during prep. My intent was to get a word with you, in private. To discuss all of this before it became news."

"Odd then, that you planted a story announcing your arrival in this morning's local newspaper. Dwight Bennett is a good editor, but even he's not that good. He's not exactly keeping his ear to the ground so he can break the latest news in television entertainment. Why bother being stealthy and discreet, when hitting me broadside, in front of my customer base, will guarantee you get what you want? Alva is out there right now, telling God and everyone-"

"You didn't stop her."

"The National Guard couldn't stop her."

Baxter tried to stifle the smile, but having met the tiny tornado, he thought Leilani likely had a point. "Then I'll apologize for making my intentions known to possibly the worst gossip on the island. I didn't intend for that to pop out of my mouth as it did, but her enthusiasm was contagious and I simply-"

"Got carried away? Baxter, ever since your show debuted, you have women screaming at you all the time-and not in a bad way. Entire throngs of women get more than a little excited just by being within viewing distance of you. You're surrounded by adoring fans every single day. And night, I'd imagine. You come off as this unassuming but incredibly appealing guy, who is somehow sweetly earnest and passionately alpha all at the same time. Throw in the accent, and you're like ... the Hugh Grant of baking. I get that they can't help themselves. But surely you're used to it by now. So, it's a bit of a stretch to think one tiny senior can throw you off your game."

He got hung up for a moment on her surprising description of him. Was that how she really saw him? Quite flattering in some respects, especially considering the scowl presently creasing her brow. But ... Hugh Grant?

"As you noted, she is quite the tiny senior." Baxter stopped at the opposite side of the counter from where Lani stood, arms still folded. "But you have a point. Maybe it was instinct, just put it out there, gain the advantage."

"Well, that's hardly a-what did you just say?"

"I said, maybe you're right, and I instinctively played to the advantage that presented itself. I didn't mean to, it wasn't premeditated, but that doesn't negate that I did it. Or that I'm sorry I did. It was impulsive, and out of line."

"Well ... okay, then." The bluster went out of her.

But not, he noted, the fluster. If anything, she seemed more jumpy than before.

"So, just tell me what the bigger picture is here," she implored. "There has to be an agenda. I'm not stupid."

"Far from."

"Thank you."

"What is it I've done to anger you? I honestly don't have a clue."

"I'm not angry, I'm just-" She stopped when he simply folded his arms in a mirror pose of hers. She took an audible breath, let it out slowly. "It's ... complicated. And you're right. I'm not being fair to you. I'm sorry for that. I'm not usually like this."

"Again, far from." He smiled then, relieved they were finally getting back to some semblance of normalcy.

But she didn't smile in return. And the slightly lost look she'd had that morning, after he'd kissed her, was back. He thought that might be worse.

"I guess it's just ... I don't understand why you'd come here and turn my lovely new life upside down." She lifted one hand, palm out. Her quiet intensity proved more provoking than her frustration. "And please, don't use that line you tried this morning. I worked next to you for three years, and ran Gateau's kitchen for you for another year after that. You never once showed so much as a sliver of interest in me other than purely professional that entire time. We've agreed that I'm not stupid, so don't come here, into my place-my place, Baxter-and expect me to believe you suddenly can't live without me. Personally, or, for that matter, professionally. It's insulting, and ... well, also not fair. I don't deserve some silly game. I deserve a straight answer."

"It seems neither of us is getting what we want today." Baxter kept his arms folded. "Did it occur to you that your refusal to believe me is also insulting? The one who should be angry here, is me. Other than not sending advance word, which I couldn't do due to the network's paranoia over secrecy issues, I haven't done anything wrong that I know of. I am, in fact, offering you a really great opportunity."

"That I didn't ask for, or need. If I wanted to advance my cause on Sugarberry by using you or Gateau, I'd have done it already. I'm building something different here. On my own."

"Leilani-"

"You should have asked me first, Baxter, before planning anything here, with or without me or my shop. I know I'm not in charge of the island, or your show, or you, but there are literally thousands of places you could have chosen. But you chose the one tiny little piece of land where I happen to live, and make my living. You had to know it was going to upend my life to some degree, no matter how altruistic you thought your gesture might be. Considering the working relationship we had, you owed me a heads-up, at the very least, networks be damned."

"I-"

"You should have just been honest and up-front about ... whatever it is that made you come here. And no, I don't consider a local write-up intended to generate anticipation for your show on the very morning you arrive, crew in tow, an acceptable advance notice. I'm sorry-I am-but I'm not interested in anything you have to offer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do while it's not busy. I hope you don't mind seeing yourself out."

Of my life, she might as well have added. She'd said her piece quite sincerely, but it was equally clear she'd hardly be crying into her milk and cupcakes if she never saw him again.

"Don't you want an answer to your question?" he asked mildly enough. She, of all people, would know him well enough to understand he was on a fast simmer now, as she'd been earlier. "As you noted this morning, I didn't come here because I need you to continue making my life a professional success."

"My point exactly."

"My point as well." He leaned against the counter and watched her struggle to keep her stance and not put additional space between them. For someone who'd spent the better part of four years glued, almost literally, to his elbow, her behavior was just plain odd.

"Despite my actions this morning, I'm not going to attack you, you know. You don't have to be so jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy. I'd just like to get back to work."

He leaned closer and she instinctively took a step back, banging up against the counter behind her, setting all the trays on the racks to jiggling.

"Jumpy. I'm just curious why. I've never known you to be nervous around me before."

"I was always nervous around you."

His eyes widened at that. "Since when?"

"Since I had the opportunity to learn from someone as brilliant in the kitchen as you."

"Ah, professional nerves then. You hid them well."

She shrugged. "I wanted the job, and I wanted your respect." She hugged her arms a bit more tightly around her, drawing his gaze to the front of her apron.

"You had both. Always." On closer notice of her apron, he said, "Is that-?"

"The Mad Hatter," she said. "I told you, I have a collection."

"You collect aprons?"

"Since I was little and my mom taught me to bake." When he smiled, she arched a brow. "Some find it charmingly quirky."

"You never wore any to Gateau."

"Shocking, I know. Because I'm certain the staff would have greatly appreciated the humor in them."

His smile twitched wider at that. "You have a point, I suppose. I must say, this dry side of you is surprisingly appealing. What does it say?" He nodded toward her apron front.

She lifted her arms away so he could read the script that accompanied the copy of an original pen and ink art rendering of the Hatter seated at a long table, holding a tea cup aloft.

"YOU'RE NEVER TOO OLD TO HAVE A TEA PARTY," he read out loud, then smiled at her. "I rather agree. You make a charming and somewhat more quirky Alice than I'd have expected. I seem to recall Alice spent the better part of her time being irritated and flustered, too. Perhaps if I'd come bearing tea and crumpets, with a bewildered, bespectacled white rabbit clutching a pocketwatch in his paw, you'd have been more willing to give me the time of day."

He saw her fight the smile, and unrepentantly grinned at her.

She lost the battle and even snickered a little, but was clearly disgusted with herself for it, and not at all happy with him, despite the smile that continued to hover around her mouth. "You're incorrigible. You know that and you use it against the defenseless. Absolutely, positively shameless." She lifted a warning finger. "Just because you made me laugh, don't get any bold ideas that I'm going to hand my shop over to you and your production team. I don't want the craziness of your world coming into mine that way. And that's not to say I'm even buying any of the story you're selling."

He edged his weight onto the counter and lifted his hands out to the side. "What other reason could I possibly have?"

"I haven't the vaguest clue," she said. "And that's what bothers me."

"It's not remotely possible to you, then, that I'm speaking the truth? About missing you? Being here for you?"

She resettled her folded arms on her chest. "If you missed me, you have an odd way of showing it. Other than the congratulatory flowers, which you sent from the entire staff at Gateau, I've not heard a single thing from you in any way since I left New York. Not that I thought I would, but given this big pronouncement of yours, that seems a bit unusual. If this is a sudden realization for you, I can think of a whole list of ways to get my attention, all discreet and personal, not to mention more intimate. Not one of those ways includes dragging your entire television crew down here so you can beam your show to the whole wide world from my little country island kitchen."

He started to speak, then realized she had, yet again, a solid point. He dug his hands in his pockets. "Some would see the gesture as quirky and charming."

Her lips twitched again. "Seriously, with that. Cut it out."

"Oh, I'm quite serious," he replied, then made her eyes go wide when he braced his palm on the flat countertop and hopped over to her side in one quick maneuver.

She immediately backed up, and kept backing up, as he straightened and moved toward her. "You know what else is quirky and charming?" he asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question? Baxter, really, what do you think you're-stop!"

"No," he said quite succinctly. "You know what I think? I think you're still nervous, only it's not professional in nature."

"Maybe because you're suddenly stalking me?" She backed around the L-shaped display cabinets, then quickly realized she'd backed herself into a corner as this path led to the wall comprising the far side of the shop.

He continued his approach. "I wouldn't have to stalk if you'd stop running away."

"I'm not running, I'm ..."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You're ... ?"

She ran out of room when her back hit the small stainless steel sink mounted to the wall behind the end of the side display case. She bumped up against it, and braced her hand behind her to steady herself. "Baxter-"

"Leilani." He didn't stop until he was almost hip to hip with her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Testing my theory." He leaned in closer.

Her eyes went wider ... and her pupils wider still. And ... definitely not in fear.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he murmured.

"You-don't do it, Baxter. I-there are windows. Lots of them. Right over there." She flung a hand in the general direction of the front of the shop, taking out a silver napkin holder as she did so.

"You've never been clumsy before, to my knowledge. I seem to be wreaking a bit of havoc on your natural grace and poise."

"The windows," she repeated. "With people. On the other side. Looking in. And seeing-"

He reached up and stroked a finger down the side of her cheek. Her lips parted on a little sigh. But it was when she moistened the bottom one with the tip of her tongue that his suspicions were completely confirmed.

He slid his fingers to the side of her neck, until her skittering pulse was right beneath his fingertips. "You're not afraid of me, Leilani."

"No," she agreed, the word more of a whispered rasp. Her gaze dipped to his mouth. "I'm not afraid of you."

He lost the battle-if he'd ever been seriously waging one to begin with. He'd just needed a sign that he wasn't alone in this. He cupped the back of her neck and lowered his head, craving a taste of that moist bottom lip more than he'd craved even the rarest of Belgian chocolates.

At the last possible second her gaze flew up to his. "I am afraid of being the center of nasty rumors again. And ... and of the ugly gossip that will make my work suffer, this time threatening my shop. And making me feel like ... like ... I did. Before. All over again. It was one thing in the city, Baxter. But I work where I live now, and it's a very small place. Surrounded by people I know and care about. So, don't do this to me. Not now. Not here. Please."

He couldn't have imagined anything she might have said that could have shifted the mood more swiftly, or had him pulling himself up so abruptly.

But that did it.

He lifted his head, his gaze pinning hers. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." She pushed at his chest, and he lifted his hands and moved away. Anything remotely playful in the tension between them was definitely gone.

"Explain it to me." He moved further back, then leaned against the case, shoving his hands in his pockets. No defensiveness on his part, just honest concern. And complete mystification. "Please. I truly don't understand. But I want to."

She held his gaze, then sighed, looked down, and muttered something under her breath he couldn't quite make out. It sounded like "why now?"