Across from her, Leo slumped. His quick glance up at her exposed the worry etched in his face. The tiny candle highlighted the outline of his granite jaw and the shiny black of his hair. “My dad thinks the solution is getting married.”

Tessa choked on her wine. Hitting her chest and sitting up, she finally managed, “What?”

“Right? That’s what I said.” His tie was askew, and his five-o’clock shadow somehow made him look roguish and vulnerable at the same time.

“How would that solve any problems?”

He refilled their glasses. “My dad says this is a family restaurant and he needs someone in charge who’s a family man. He believes success is all about image.”

She considered that; in a small town like theirs, there was some truth to it, but it certainly wasn’t the only factor. “To me, success is all about the bottom line. And if I can’t find some way to improve our bakery’s bottom line, my mom’s going to have to sell it.”

He folded his muscled arms in a way that looked casual, but she could sense the tension rolling off him. “Is that such a bad thing? Selling?”

She nodded adamantly. “The bakery is over a hundred years old. It would break my family’s heart. And selling wouldn’t even give my mom enough money to live on for very long. I can’t imagine her getting a job doing something else…” She twirled her glass. “What will you do if the restaurant folds? I’m sure there are similar opportunities for you to turn businesses around in New York. Why do it here, where people are so set in their ways?”

He leaned forward, conviction lacing his voice. “Tradition and family mean something to me, too. I came back here not only to help my father but to work with him. I just need to convince him to implement my ideas. Those are what are going to save the restaurant.”

He sounded…superbly confident. But then, he always had been. “Well, nothing short of a miracle is going to save our bakery. It needs new accounts and more business. And I have big plans for my life that actually involve leaving town. But I can’t when everything is in the mess it is now.”

He reclined back again. “And where might you be going, Tessa Montgomery?”

With his wolfish grin, that sounded like there should be a sinister, toothy My Dear tacked on at the end.

And somehow, that made her smile.

Or maybe it was the wine.

She wasn’t going to get into the details of her life plans with him, but why lie? “I’ve applied to pastry school.”

“A rebel at heart.” He raised his glass.

Her face heated with a flush. He had no idea how against-the-tide it was going to be to get herself to pastry school. But she would do it. She had to.