But on the heels of that worry came the image of Amanda sittingalone at the bar. With it, the attraction she’d been denying. She wasn’t in thebusiness of pursuing clients, but it was nice to know that part of herself—thepart that felt immediately and intensely drawn to a woman—wasn’t brokenentirely.
Chapter Nine
Quinn pulled into Amanda’s driveway and cut the engine.She’d been equal parts elated and conflicted when Amanda offered to make dinnerfor their rescheduled meeting. Elated because it meant time with Amanda, not tomention a home cooked meal. Conflicted because she worried Amanda feltobligated. Oh, and because she had no business being elated.
She took a deep breath and gathered up her bag and the revisedplans she wanted to review before handing things over to Joss. For some reason,having them, having a reason to be there other than dinner with Amanda, madeher calmer. She shook her head. That was the problem with so many iffy, if notdownright bad, dates. They had her on edge about spending time with anattractive woman.
Work. She was here for work. Nothing more, nothing less. At leastwhen it came to work, she knew what she was doing.
She repeated the sentiment to herself as she climbed the porchsteps and rang the bell.
When Amanda answered the door in a pair of jeans, a paisley top,and flats, she relaxed. So not a date. Even if the smile Amanda offered wasenough to make her wish it was.
“Hey. It’s so good to see you. Come on in.”
“Likewise. Thank you for inviting me.” She took in the details ofthe entryway and living room—many of them the original craftsman design—andnodded her approval. “You’ve got a great place.”
“High praise coming from an architect.”
Quinn frowned. “I’m not a snob.”
Amanda smirked. “Oh, I hope you are at least a little. I’m anincorrigible snob when it comes to baked goods.”
The comment made her like Amanda even more. “I won’t confess myLittle Debbie habit to you then.”
“And I won’t tell you about the original molding sacrificed formy kitchen reno.”
Quinn nodded. “Deal.”
She followed Amanda down the short hall to the kitchen. Itdefinitely had the look and feel of a recent high-end remodel. Still, it wasn’tgarish or modern or too out of step with the character of the house.
“I spend enough time in here that I let myself get exactly what Iwanted.”
“I find nothing to take issue with.” She really didn’t. It almostmade her wish she cooked.
“Are you just saying that so I’ll feed you?”
She chuckled at how close the question cut to her line ofthinking. “Maybe.”
Amanda laughed and even though they absolutely were not on adate, Quinn made a mental note to try to get her to do it again. And againafter that. “Don’t worry. I never promise to feed someone then take it back. Ithink it’s part of the mom code.”
“Oh, good.” Quinn set her things down on the table. “Still, Ihope you didn’t feel obligated to make me dinner.”
“Does wanting to do something nice count as feeling obligated?”
She sure hoped that wasn’t the case. “Not necessarily.”
Amanda lifted a shoulder in a way that might be flirtatious. “Idon’t bail on meetings, especially if someone has gone out of their way to showup at my bakery. This feels like the least I could do for making youreschedule.”
Quinn offered a shrug of her own. Any lingering disappointmentwas overshadowed by the dinner invitation. For the dinner as much as thecompany. “It happens to the best of us.”
“It’s kind of you to say so.”
“It’s easy to be generous when a beautiful woman is making medinner.” Her cheeks flushed. Did she really just say that?
Amanda bit her lip but didn’t seem to mind the compliment. “I’llremember that.”
A bolder woman would take it as invitation. Quinn wasn’t quitethat, at least not these days. “So, what are we having?”
“Coq au vin. It can simmer while we go over the plans, which Ifigured we should do first.”
She had a point, especially since that was the reason for meetingin the first place. “Sounds perfect.”
“Can I pour you a glass of wine now?”
The offer of wine made her think maybe Amanda didn’t considerthis strictly a business meeting. “Only if you’ll join me.”
“Well, if you insist.” Amanda pulled a bottle from the fridge andpoured two glasses.
Quinn accepted her glass and lifted it. “Here’s to reschedulingin style.”
Amanda touched her glass to Quinn’s. “I’ll drink to that.”
They sat at the table and Quinn unrolled the plans. After gettingAmanda’s approval on her more radical design, she’d worked out a more detailedplan. Still, she wanted Amanda’s input, especially on the layout for thekitchen. “I’ve done a handful of kitchen spaces, but none with your exact uses.I did some scouting for best practices, but I think you should drive theprocess since you actually spend time there.”
“You say that like it’s unusual.”
“For the owner to also be the head chef? Yes, it’s unusual.”
Amanda gave her an exasperated look. “It’s not some Michelinstarred restaurant. I’m not a head chef.”
Quinn studied her, looking for something unspoken. “I wouldn’thave pegged you for false modesty.”
“My cakes could make a grown man cry they’re so good. It hasnothing to do with modesty.”
The retort came with a straight face and not a second ofhesitation. Had she not found Amanda attractive before, it would have tippedthe scales. “Point taken.”
They talked through Amanda’s ideas for the different workspaces—baking, decorating, and the new lunch service. It was good she askedbecause it wouldn’t have occurred to her roasted garlic should never share thesame work surface as modeling chocolate. She made copious notes and penciledthings directly on the plans. Amanda did, too. In under an hour, they hadenough ironed out to take the plans to Joss and the zoning board.
Quinn rolled up the oversize sheets of paper, securing them withrubber bands. “Do we get to eat now?”
“Hungry?”
“I wasn’t, but I’ve been smelling that chicken for the lastforty-five minutes and let’s say I’m pretty happy with myself for not droolingon your blueprints.”
Amanda laughed. God, she really did have an incredible laugh.“You could have
