“We might want to massage the truth a little. Everyone loves sexual harassment.”
“I don’t think I can go there.”
“No problem. We’ll skip over the sexual harassment and go straight to the fact that you saved Dazzle’s Bakery, singlehandedly making it a success with your magical cupcakes.”
“It was doing just fine without me.”
“We’ll smooth it out with editorial.”
“Why me?” I asked him.
“I told you. I like your writing style. And you’re cute. You’re going to look great on television, and you’ll package up perfect. You’re a twenty-first-century Doris Day.”
“Lucky me.”
“Exactly,” Martin Ammon said.
He leaned close, and his strange pale blue eyes narrowed a little. “We’re going to spend some time together, Lizzy Tucker. I’m going to learn all about you. There will be no secrets.”
Eek.
“And now I have a surprise for you,” he said.
Crap. I didn’t need another surprise.
Ammon crossed to an elaborate silver and glass serving cart positioned against the wall. The serving cart held a single canister, which I now realized had my picture on it. Below the picture, in gold and black lettering, were the words LIZZY TUCKER GOODIES. Ammon lifted the lid of the canister and helped himself to a cookie.
“Mint chocolate chip cookies,” Martin said, holding the cookie aloft. “From page 101 of your manuscript. As soon as I read that page, I had to try the cookies to see if they were really as good as the recipe looked.”
“You made them yourself?”
“Don’t be silly. I had my chef make them. But I told him to follow the recipe exactly, no embroidering, no improvising.” He took a bite. “Fantastic,” he said. “These cookies will be the first in our product line.” He smiled so wide I was almost blinded by the brilliance. “Lizzy Tucker, you’re going to be rich beyond your dreams. We’re going to be an unstoppable team.”
I supposed this was good. This was sort of what Diesel wanted, right?
I gave him a forced smile. “Yep, we’ll be a team.”
“One
last thing,” he said. “The cupcakes. I probably wouldn’t have looked at your cookbook if I hadn’t eaten the cupcakes. They were wonderful. They made me feel happy. They were the best cupcakes I’ve ever had, and I fashion myself to be something of a cupcake expert. I had my chef make your cupcake recipe, but they weren’t the same. Did you leave out an ingredient?”
“I left out the magic.”
—
Diesel and Carl were in my kitchen eating cookies when I rolled in. Diesel was eating Double Stuf Oreos, and Carl was eating Fig Newtons.
“How’d it go?” Diesel asked.
“Okay, I guess. It was weird. Not what I expected.”
“How so?”
“He hated my idea for a cookbook, but he liked my writing style. And he thought I was cute.”
“And?”
“And he offered me a big bag of money.”