Christmas Comes to Main Street by Olivia Miles Page B

but this was something much different—and better. Cream cheese and something like chocolate coated his mouth. Not too sweet, the texture perfect.
    â€œThese are my red velvet cream cheese candy canes. I’ve already sold three dozen since I opened this morning,” Kara said proudly before glancing shyly away.
    â€œYou have a good business model,” he said after finishing the cookie.
    Kara perked with interest. “Well, that must be good news. Here I thought you’d be full of more ideas for improvement.”
    â€œWell…” Nate regretted the word as soon as he saw her expression fold. He lowered his coffee mug before he’d had a chance to take a sip and set it down on the nearest counter.
    â€œWell what?” Kara leaned a hip against the center island and folded her arms across her chest, accentuating the curve of her breasts through her pale pink sweater. Her lips were pinched, her nose pert, and he didn’t think he’d seen her look cuter.
    He held up a hand. “Look, I’m a management consultant. I tend to spot opportunities for improvement everywhere I go.” Other than the inn, he had to admit. His aunt ran that place with the expertise of a veteran, and it showed. She was a perfectionist, like Kara. The difference was that Kara was new to this and, possibly, in over her head. “I didn’t come here to insult you, I promise. You have a beautiful shop, you make damn good cookies, and you probably have a concrete business plan in place.”
    Kara blinked. “What do you mean by a business plan?”
    Nate stifled a groan. Of course. She hadn’t taken out a loan, hadn’t needed one. No one was backing this place. She’d sunk her own money into it. She hadn’t needed to pitch her idea to anyone, hadn’t needed to prove that she could make it a success.
    He gritted his teeth. Reminded himself for the umpteenth time,
Say nothing
.
    â€œI can tell you want to say something,” Kara cut in. She lifted her chin, her gaze steady. “Go on.”
    Nate pulled in a breath. Since she’d asked for it… “I think… I think you might serve yourself better by hiring some part-time help.”
    She snorted. “That’s all you’ve got?” She shook her head, laughing to herself as she walked over to the back of the room, where the rows of gingerbread houses were kept. “Of course I need part-time help. The only problem is that help doesn’t come free.”
    â€œYes, but…” He frowned, suddenly wondering if he’d misread the situation. But no. His aunt had specifically said that Kara had used her inheritance to start this business, and she’d as good as admitted it herself when she admitted to not having a business plan.
    Kara turned. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to hire someone to help me out. Especially around the holidays. But for now, that’s not in the cards.”
    He wanted to tell her it would never be in the cards if she drove away business by trying to juggle too many parts of the business. She should focus on what she did best: baking. She was one hell of a baker.
    He couldn’t resist. He reached for another cookie, cocking his eyebrow when she caught him. “May I? I’ll pay.”
    Her expression softened. “You may. And it’s on the house. Now, speaking of houses…”
    She carried the gingerbread house from last night’s bazaar to the center island and carefully set it down. It was even more charming than he remembered it, made even better by the thoughtful additions she’d made to the decorations. She’d even placed a pear tree in the front yard, complete with a little partridge.
    â€œHow did you make this?” he marveled, bending for a closer look. He was astounded to realize that if you looked through the windows, she’d actually decorated the inside of the house as well. The walls were painted,