Her Christmas Pregnancy Surprise

“Pepper, this is Mike. I’m sorry to do this, but I quit.”

“Quit?” Not again.

“I just couldn’t say no.”

“No? To what? To whom?” She had a sinking feeling she knew who he was talking about, but she had to hear him say it. She needed the confirmation.

“The other bakery. They approached me when I was leaving work yesterday. They offered me a lot more money. And with the baby on the way, we need all of the money I can make. Pepper, if it wasn’t for that, I swear, I wouldn’t be leaving. Honest.”

She liked Mike. He’d been with her since she’d opened the shop. And even though she didn’t want to, she understood he had to put the needs of his family before his loyalty to her and the business.

She wished him well and hung up. So now she was short a baker and she had a party to prepare for...alone.

Not wasting any more time, she got to work.

CHAPTER TWO

THIS COULDN’T BE HAPPENING.

How had he let this slip through the cracks?

With the tinted rear windows of the car, no one could make him out. Simon was free to stare at the passing buildings and people hustling along the crowded sidewalk. The Polka Dotted Bakery was a place he’d thought of often in the past several weeks. He tried to tell himself that it was the fragrant and rich coffee that he missed, but it was something more than that. An image of Pepper laughing flashed in his mind. He recalled how her lush lips would part, lifting up at the corners, and her pinkened cheeks would puff up. But more than that, her eyes would twinkle and the green of her eyes reminded him of gemstones.

And then a much more somber memory rushed to the forefront—his last conversation with Pepper. There had been no smiles, no friendliness. She’d dumped him, dismissed him, had no use for him. That was something he was not used to, at all. He was the one who always ended relationships. Not the other way around.

“Pull over here,” he said to his driver.

He didn’t normally have a driver, but seeing as he was headed for the bakery and parking could be quite limited at this time of the day, he’d decided it would be prudent. He’d considered calling her on the phone, but he didn’t feel right about it.

Simon opened the car door and immediately the distinct nip in the air assailed him. The holidays were here and so was the winter season. He tugged at the collar of his black wool overcoat and pulled it close to his neck to keep out the chilling breeze. Not even the midafternoon sun was enough to warm him.

There had been so many times over the past several weeks when he’d wanted to swing by the bakery. He told himself that it was the cherry turnovers that he craved—not staring into the green eyes of the very beautiful baker.

And it didn’t help that when he suddenly stopped bringing the mouthwateringly good baked goods to the office it was noticed by his employees. When he got questioned enough about the lack of treats, he started going to the new bakery, though the service wasn’t nearly as friendly and the turnovers—well, they were dry and overly sweet. And though his staff didn’t say much, the number of leftover pastries at the end of the day said it all.

Though everything in his body wanted to turn around, he kept putting one foot in front of the other. The streets were decorated with garland and on each lamp post was a large wreath with a great big red bow. Shop windows had holiday displays. Some had Santa figurines and others Christmas trees. Everything to put the passerby in the holiday spirit—except for Simon.

However, when he reached the large picture window of the Polka Dotted Bakery, he slowed down. How could he not? The holiday-themed display was literally a work of art—all made out of baked goods.

It was a wintery scene, with a white tree with gingerbread ornaments trimmed with white frosting suspended from it. And beneath the tree was a gingerbread house. Not just four walls and a roof of gumdrops. Someone had gone all out, detailing not a one, not a two, not even a three, but a four-story house decorated with white and pale pink frosting. He didn’t have to guess. He knew it was Pepper’s work. She was quite talented, making the window shutters out of white frosting, and there was even a chimney.

He drew in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and opened the glass door of the bakery. When he stepped inside, he found it empty. Not one single customer. Sure, it was a little past three in the afternoon, but from what Pepper had told him, there were usually customers streaming in and out of the bakery all day long.

He stepped further into the shop to find the display cases completely full, as though none of the goods had sold that day. How could this be? Pepper, by far, had the best pastries in the city.

“I’ll be right with you.” Her voice was light and friendly, just the way he remembered it before things had spun out of control.

He turned to her, bracing for Pepper’s onslaught of angry words. She knelt down, placing something in the glass display case. When she straightened—when she saw that it was him and when she heard what he’d come here to tell her—he was certain her tone would change drastically.

And then she straightened with a smile on her face. Her beautiful long auburn hair was pulled back in a twist, pinned to the back of her head. When the lights hit her hair, the deep red highlights shone. Her bangs fell to the side of her face and a few wispy curls fell around the nape of her neck. Was this the real reason he’d come here? To have one more look at her—to drink in her beauty?

As recognition flashed in her eyes, her friendly demeanor vanished in a heartbeat, replaced with a distinct frown. “You.” Her green eyes widened with surprise. “What are you doing here?” Then she held up a hand as though stopping him from speaking. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just leave before someone sees you here.”

“Pepper, we need to talk.”

She shook her head. “If anyone spots you here, the press with be back. I can’t deal with them. Just go.”

He knew how bad the paparazzi could be when they were chasing what they thought was a story. “I’ve taken precautions so no one knows I’m here.”