Bingo.

Max drilled her with his gaze. “You spoke with our competitor?”

She shifted her feet. “Well, yes, he approached me to introduce himself. He was quite polite and nice and wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

“I bet. Think back to your conversation. Did you tell him we were featuring that dessert?”

“Absolutely not. He was chattering about an uncle who visited Italy and loved a certain pastry and wanted to know . . .” She trailed off. A spark of pity cut through him at the sudden realization and horror on her face. “Oh, no.”

“He wanted to know the name and if we were going to serve it. Right?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t believe I fell for his ruse. He seemed so genuine. He told me his uncle was sick and would love to taste the dessert again, and I said we’d be serving it at the opening.” He waited for her to duck her head, but she met his gaze head-on. “I’m sorry. I really screwed up.”

With another employee, he would’ve ripped them apart and let them stew for a few days. He opened his mouth but causing Carina any more stress was impossible. Her raw honesty when she made a mistake only made him ache to cross the room and hug her like in the old days.

He kept his distance and his head clear. “I know.” He paused and studied her face. “Carina, do you like working here?”

She tightened her lips. “Yes. I’m sorry I messed up, but Michael’s counting on me. I’ll do better.”

Her beautiful chocolate eyes filled with determination. The need to comfort strangled him but he kept his feet rooted to the floor. “I know Michael wants you to eventually run La Dolce Maggie. You’re dedicated and smart—I never questioned those qualities about you, cara. But is this what you want?”

The flash of doubt was quickly buried. “Of course. This is what I trained for. I don’t intend to let my family down.”

Pride cut through him. The woman before him held more loyalty and work ethic than anyone he’d known. Still, he remembered her creativity and longing to paint. Remembered her mother hanging her work in the kitchen and being surprised at her talent. “You never answered my question. Is this what you want?”

She sank white teeth into the tender flesh of her lip. He remembered plunging his tongue between those ruby lips and devouring her. Max held back a groan of sheer misery. “This is all I have,” she said softly.

He tipped her chin up and studied her face. Why would she say something so odd? Endless choices stretched ahead of her. Michael may have hopes she’d sit at the helm, but his friend would back her if she insisted on a different path. Venezia pursued a career in fashion, and Michael always boasted of her talent and individuality.

He sensed her heart had never belonged to the business industry like Julietta’s. In his gut, she belonged somewhere else. He just wasn’t sure where.

A quick tap on the door pulled his attention. Jim peeked his head in, earbud firmly in place. “Boss, we got a problem. Michael needs you to get over to the waterfront location. There’s some type of mix-up with the supplier, and the chef is freaking out.”

“Won’t a conference call handle it?”

“Nah, this one needs a hands-on approach.”

“Fine. Tell Michael I’m on my way and I’ll report back to him later.”

“Got it.” Jim disappeared. Max shrugged on his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase. “Let me fix this and we’ll talk more later. Cover me while I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

He flew out the door and made a note to dig deeper later.

* * *

Two hours later, Carina worked her way through her paperwork pile as she manned Max’s desk. The events of the morning still bothered her, but she decided to push through and make up for it. One screwup shouldn’t make her beat herself bloody. Everyone made mistakes in the beginning—isn’t that what Max and Michael consistently told her?

She flexed her neck back and forth and tried to concentrate on the endless array of numbers filling up the computer screen. The phone buzzed.

“Yes?”

The secretary’s voice came over the phone. “Robin is here to see Max.”

“From Robin’s Organics?” she questioned.

“Yes, he says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in, please.”

The man who entered had shaggy chestnut hair, muddy brown eyes, and ruddy cheeks. He wore a red shirt with ROBIN RULES scrawled across the front, and jeans with a hole in them. Not the typical business-suited executive from one of their most important suppliers. Definitely a man who got his hands in the muck. She rose and shook his hand. “I’m Carina Conte. Max isn’t here at the moment. May I help you?”

A muscle in his eye twitched. “I have to discuss a problem with you, Ms. Conte. I hope you can help me.”

“Carina. And I’ll certainly try. Let me pull up your account with us.” She tapped a few keys and read over the history and current notes. “You’ve worked with us a while now, since La Dolce Maggie opened. Am I correct?”

“Yes. We’ve always held a solid reputation for the best organic fruit in the Hudson Valley. But we’ve been having problems with the Newburgh location. The figs and raspberries were delivered late. The chef told me this morning he’s dumping our account.”

Carina frowned. “The chef doesn’t have the final say in that—we do. Is this a first occurrence?”

He winced. “No. It’s happened a few times over the last month.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied him. Tapped her pencil against the edge of the desk. “When suppliers run late, we can’t make our pastries. That’s a serious problem.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to come in person and tell you what’s going on.” He cleared his throat. “My son has been driving the truck and I started him in the business. He did well for a while, he just graduated college, but lately he got involved in the wrong crowd and—” Robin broke off, then pushed on. “He’s been on drugs. Stealing money. Not doing the deliveries. I assumed everything was fine and never checked.”

Her eyes softened with sympathy. She longed to reach out and take the poor man’s hand, who was obviously hurting over his son. “I’m very sorry. What are you going to do?”

“He checked into rehab. He won’t work for me again, I promise you. I’m asking to give me a pass on this and let me continue with the Newburgh location. My company has a solid reputation and I don’t want to lose La Dolce Maggie as an account.”

Carina skimmed the reports and noted the history with Robin’s Organics. No real problems until a few weeks ago. As the man waited for her decision, she dimly noted what Max and Julietta would do in this situation. They’d be empathetic but professional. Probably ask for a discount for the mistakes. Most definitely make their displeasure known. But she wasn’t either of them, and her gut told her Robin had been put through enough without her busting his balls.

“I’m going to need to guarantee my chef there that he will encounter no more late deliveries. Can you promise me this?”

“Yes. I’ve already hired someone new that I can completely trust. There will be no further mistakes.”

“Understood. I will take care of this, and we’ll start with a clean slate.”

Relief flickered over his face. His eye gave a final twitch as he rose to shake her hand. “Thank you, Carina. I really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck with your son. I know your heart is probably broken, but I’m sure you’ll do everything possible to make sure he comes out okay. Having family to count on is half the battle.”

He nodded jerkily and left the office.

She sighed, her heart aching for the man. Bringing children into the world was such a risk of love. She gave him credit for his courage and honesty.

Another hour passed as she updated spreadsheets and waited for Max.

He strode into the office, obviously in a temper. Not that his smooth looks betrayed a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his pressed iron-gray suit. His purple tie was perfectly knotted and never askew. But his features were tight with displeasure, and his eyes snapped blue fire as he dumped his briefcase on the desk.

“We have big problems. I need a meeting with Robin’s Organics.”

Uh-oh.

Carina rose from his chair, walked in front of the desk, and leaned against it. She kept her voice smooth and controlled. “Robin already came to see me.”

Max jerked his head up. “What are you talking about? When?”

“He came while you were at the waterfront. He’s been late with his deliveries over the past weeks and he was afraid he’d lose our account. I had a long talk with him and we fixed it. There should be no further issues.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. The musky scent of his aftershave hit her. “I just listened to an endless tirade from our pastry chef who insisted I dump this account. What was his excuse?”

“His son has been giving him problems and they’re short-staffed.”

Max lifted one brow in scorn. “How is that my problem? Did you threaten him? Get us a discounted price for his screwups?”

Temper bit her nerves. “I didn’t feel that was necessary, Max. He’s been working for us for years and we’ve never had previous problems. We all go through personal problems, and relationships in business are the foundation. Giving him a lecture or insisting we get a deal wasn’t the right move this time.”

His fuse was getting shorter. He cursed and raked his fingers through his hair. Carina hated the way the waves just fell back in perfect form. Was he even human? How can such a living, breathing Sex God be created in such form? The memory of his hands lifting her up and slamming her against the wall caused tummy flutters and a throbbing wetness demanding satisfaction. She concentrated on his hard-assed behavior instead.

“Relationships are important, but suppliers respect strength. If you let him get away with this once, he’ll know it can be repeated. Once again, you’re being too soft. You need to man up and take the heat.”

Her fists clenched at his condescending tone. “Man up?” she asked softly. “This has nothing to do with being soft—it has to do with building trust. He trusts us to give him this free pass, and that inspires loyalty and a desire to never let us down again. Business 101, Max. Maybe you need to take a refresher course.”

He took a few steps until they were face-to-face. Her breath came in shallow pants and she tamped down on the swirling array of emotions ready to explode. The hell if she’d lose her temper in front of him in the office. It was time he realized who he was dealing with.

“Maybe you need to tell our chef to forget about the fig tarts for his party tonight. How about that?”

She rose on tiptoes and flung her head up. “Maybe you can man up and tell him we make the final decisions at La Dolce Maggie. He’s a temperamental asshole and always has been.”

His lips twisted in a snarl. “He makes outstanding food.”

“He makes up for his height issues by being mean and making ridiculous demands. You’re just coddling him.”

He reached out and grabbed her upper arms. His face was so close to hers she saw the wicked curve to his lower lip, the sexy stubble clinging to his jaw, and the burn in his blue eyes. “I’m the boss, and I make the final decisions.”

“Too bad you’re not making the right ones.”

His breath rushed hot over her mouth. Her lips parted. Those fingers bit deep into her arms as he struggled with his temper. “You’re getting a little mouthy for someone who’s supposed to be in training.”

Desire slammed into her hard and fast. Her nipples pushed against the sheer silk of her blouse and begged for the naughty bite of his teeth. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “So make me shut up.”

He hesitated for a moment. Spit out a curse.

And slammed his mouth over hers.

The kiss was hot and fast and demanding. His tongue surged between her lips and thrust deep while he lifted her up and set her on top of the desk. She opened wider for him and clung to his shoulders. Her skirt rode up high on her thighs and she scooted toward the edge to part her legs wider. He caught her frantic motions, pushed the material up to her waist, grabbed her ankles, and wrapped them around him.

Carina fell into the kiss as an array of sensations dampened her panties and made her crazy for more. He devoured her mouth like a starving predator intent on destroying his prey whole. His hand squeezed the sensitive flesh behind her knee, then slid up toward her white lace panties. He caught her moan and nipped at her lower lip, bathing the swollen flesh with his tongue. “I need to touch you,” he rasped out. “I need—”