Zora went silent. She blinked, and her heart was still pounding, but now it sounded like slow motion thuds coursing through sludge. “How? What? That’s nine months away! I thought you said it would be like a year or so?”
“Normally, but with the demand for blended exotic food, they’re rushing it to publishing.” She hesitated and Zora could feel the other shoe was about to drop. “We actually don’t have until November. They technically need it by the end of May in order to meet the six-month printing deadlines.”
Now Zora dropped to the steps and let it all sink in.
Two months. No, less than two months. It was almost April. She had sixty days to work out her niche, think of a catchy title, and decide which recipes to include. Then she needed to figure out the nutritional information for each ingredient. She also needed professional photos, which Oli could do, but, still… This was crazy. Insane.
“I…I don’t even…”
Was it going to be impossible? Had she set herself up for the impossible?
“Zora, breathe.”
“I’m here, but I think I am dead. How… Just, how?”
Leanne’s voice was measured with a calming quality to it, which was uncharacteristic for her. “I want you to breathe. Then, when your heart decides it doesn’t want to come out of your chest, sit up, get up off the floor, and get to it. Take the weekend. Gather all the photos and recipes you sent me and decide on the best ones. Then cook. Do this over and again, and don’t forget to have fun while you’re doing it.”
Zora was nodding, but the words were not computing.
“When I talk to you on Tuesday, you’ll tell me all of your ideas, and we’ll work on the magic for your awesome Creole-Mexican fusion cookbook. Got it?” For all of her usual crazy, bubbly antics, today, Leanne sounded like a badass business woman.
If Leanne believed in Zora, she figured it must be possible.
She wasn’t sure how to go about it just yet, but she could cook. Somehow, the cooking would have to get her there.
“Yeah. Got it,” Zora said, doing her best to come off as confident.
They disconnected, but Zora was still staring off into the distance. It was the best worst news ever.
In a daze, she stood and dragged her feet toward Mike and the car.
“What’s up?”
“A really great publisher bought my book,” she droned.
Mike tilted his head to the side. “I thought selling your book was a good thing.”
“It is. It’s just I only have about forty-five days to put it all together and make it amazing or risk never getting another deal.” She was still shaking her head as she spoke, trying to make sense of it all.
This was definitely a “be careful what you ask for” moment.
Mike shuffled toward the car, but then he looked back at Zora with those damn sexy green eyes, and…it was a very good thing he kept walking away.
“Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said supportively. Then he bit his bottom lip. “You of all people know how to lean in. When you didn't find a seat at the table, you built your own. I’m not worried at all.”
That makes one of us.
He was adorably sweet, and she almost lost it. Zora bit back the overwhelming urge to hug him. Jump his bones. Joy warmed her from within and it buoyed her spirits. “Thanks. It means a lot that you have faith in me.”
Stay strong. He’s just being a good friend. Nothing else is happening here.
Except her heart was knocking around in her chest and a tidal wave of emotions washed over her—endearment, irritation, happiness, fear, and worse of all, desire.
“Let’s take your car. I’ve just got to get my wallet out of the driver’s seat.” Mike patted at his pants pockets. “I’m pretty sure it fell when I moved the car out front earlier.”
Zora sneezed and gave herself a mental “attagirl.” She hadn’t completely imploded yet. Given the shit storm that was her life at the moment, it was a wonder she hadn’t broken any of her rules and lunged for his totally kissable, sweet-talking mouth.
They were friends. Plain and simple. Why couldn’t she get that through her thick head? They were two people who supported each other with pep talks when the impossible became reality. There was no Netflix and chilling or cozying up in the living room. If anything, she found a rather creative and hot way to accept the sexual tension without acting on her feelings for him.
A smug smile spread on her face.
She crossed into the street to round the car toward the driver’s seat. At the same time, a bright yellow sports car sped by, nearly hitting her. Mike, the sexy-ass hero of her supposedly repressed dreams, jumped into action. He pulled her into him and they fell against the hood of the car.
“Are you okay?” he asked scrutinizing every inch of her body.
They were so close.
Too close.
Mike’s hazy green eyes bore into her, riddled with worry and…heat.
Physically, she was okay, but her mind was scrambled. With all the excitement over the book and the way her skin blazed wherever Mike’s hands touched, she couldn’t focus. Her hips were pulled tight against his. Her breasts were pressed into the hard wall of his chest. They were both breathing erratically.
“I think so,” she finally said.
He was hard and muscly all over. Zora felt his hand curl into a fist around the thin fabric of her shirt, and a shiver coursed through her. She felt like she might come apart if they were touching much longer. He smelled of a woodsy spice and sweet vanilla. It was so intoxicating, she couldn’t help closing her eyes and inhaling.
When she opened them again, his cheeks were flushed, and desire darkened his irises.
Have mercy.
Zora wished he weren’t so good-looking. Maybe then she could turn away, and her heart wouldn’t flip.
Mike was both familiar and foreign all at once.
“Zora.” His voice was a whisper, but its deep timbre burrowed down and settled in the pit of her belly.
The crease between his brow deepened and she was about to pull away but before she could, his mouth was on hers. His strong arms tightened around her waist and she opened her mouth in response, letting him in. His tongue searched her mouth, and she tasted him. It was a kissed steeped with lust, and a little too much time passed.
Zora’s stomach was tied up in knots.
A wave of nostalgia washed over her as her mind flickered between the past and present. She was boneless and whimpering for everything she couldn’t say—everything she’d waited too long to say.
Mike deepened the kiss, and her moan sounded strained to her own ears as he gently ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. As she leaned into his touch, the juncture between her thighs tightened.
What are we doing?
This was wrong. They were supposed to be just friends. Mike was her brother’s best friend. Mike was also the only guy who made Zora risk losing herself.
This broke so many rules.
“What are we doing?” she asked between breaths, desperate to understand how they’d gotten here.
He caressed the back of her head and her neck adoringly. “I’m kissing you.” He smiled into her mouth, softly nipping her bottom lip.
In the moment, she wanted him more than ever. With each press of her lips, she was letting go. The thought of losing herself paralyzed Zora. Her shoulders went stiff, and though her mouth was still gloriously attached to Mike’s, her heart stopped cold.
When it began to beat again, the spike of adrenaline made it feel like it might explode. All at once she was dizzy and weak in the knees. As they painstakingly pulled apart, Zora got lost in the tug-of- war of her emotions. How could she be begging for the kiss never to end on the inside, and at the same time need it to be over to confirm her feet were still on the ground?
“Mike…” she trailed off as she breathed his name and forced a smile.
How many years had she waited for this to happen again—to feel the soft pressure of his lips and the s
weet taste of his tongue as it glided against hers?
His smile widened as he reached for the driver’s side door. “Let me get this for you. Or, should I drive?”
His eyes were lit up like the Fourth of July, but how was she to make any sense of it? Over the years, she’d been spectator to the parade of women Mike showcased and discarded. It was silly, insane really, to believe she was an exception to his rule. He was a clever man. How easily she’d walked into the trap—the magic, the spell he put her under, the way he so easily turned on the charm.
“Sure. You can drive.”
I’m in no condition.
Zora felt the flickering weight of his stare on her as Mike zigzagged through the streets toward his house to quickly drop of her things before going to Bite-Sized. His comfortable lean and their easy conversation made it apparent Mike was enjoying this new dynamic between them. He was completely oblivious of her growing unease. A few blocks from the house, he shifted from the conversation from the book deal into talk of the Chessington building purchase—something about Arnold rescheduling, and another company, Easton Investments.
As they came to a stop at a red light, he turned to her. “Maybe you can help me tonight, and then we can celebrate you.”
With the new expedited timeline for the book, Zora couldn’t think of a worse time to go back down this road with Mike. She couldn't afford to waste time on a fleeting fantasy.
Still, it was on the tip of her tongue to nod and tell him, Yes, of course I’ll help you. I’ll be and do whatever you want because you’re gorgeous and funny, and deep down, I know the real you.
Instead of spewing her love-starved guts, she peered out the window and watched as a wave of people crossed the street. One of them caught her eye. She was a pretty brown-skinned woman wearing bright red lipstick. She was tall, and her ebony hair fell around her shoulders. She wore a floral sundress and looked at Zora with familiar, kind eyes. Then, the woman smiled, and for a brief moment, Zora saw her mother.
Don’t give up on yourself, her expression pleaded.
Zora swallowed and tore her gaze away.
Before she could take it back, the words were out. “Actually, I can’t. I have a…date tonight,” she said. She tried her best not to notice how Mike stiffened.
Chapter Fourteen
Mike
Mike rolled down the window, and the cool mid-March air rushed into the cabin of Zora’s car. It washed over him, cleansing and fresh as he turned down his street, but it did little to clear the new tension wedged between him and Zora. They’d exchanged less than five words since she revealed she was going on a date later in the evening. It was eating him alive, but this was exactly the karma he deserved for showing up to the game a day late and a dollar short.
He’d waited all this time to kiss her, and now it didn’t matter.
She’d made her choice and he needed to respect it. All he could do was keep his head down and make it through the next month or so. He’d give her space and concentrate on work. That was all there was to it.
Still, a fire blazed inside him.
His face, neck, and ears were impossibly hot. His jaw tightened under the weight of his clenched teeth, and every time he opened his mouth, his throat burned with the fear of what might come out. He couldn’t look at Zora, let alone conjure up the right words.
She sneezed.
“Bless you,” he offered.
She sniffled. “Thank you. I promise, it’s just allergies.”
He pulled the car to a stop in the driveway and put on the emergency break. Why hadn’t he done the same with his body earlier?
What was it that made me think crossing this line was a good idea?
“Listen, Mike…“ Zora spoke softly and the weight of her stare set his skin afire, but he heard pity in her tone.
“It’s fine. Let’s just get your stuff into the house.” Mike hated his curt tone, but he wasn’t in the right headspace to hear her out.
He still had no clue how he was going to do this. Before he’d kissed Zora, there was the unspoken lie they told themselves. They were “friends with a past,” but nothing more. Now, after the way they’d kissed, his body dispelled that lie. She had parted her lips and he swore he felt her tremble in his arms. Her heart and body called to him, and he answered back with every inch of his body pulsing and throbbing with the same need.
He hadn’t held back.
All of his chips were in the pot, and he’d lost the hand.
The truth would be living in the house with the lie—a loud, uninvited guest they could neither silence nor turn away.
Mike exited the car and went to unlock the front door while Zora pulled out a duffle bag, her purse, and a few small totes. In silence, they passed each other almost a dozen times as they emptied the car and its trunk. Meanwhile, Zora kept swearing she would stay out of his way. Each time she did, Mike gave himself a mental pep talk.
It’s only a month—two tops. You can do this.
All he needed to do was focus on something other than Zora.
As he returned to the car again for another load, she slammed the trunk shut. “I think that’s it.” She shot him a reassuring smile.
“Oh, okay. I, uh…haven’t really done much to the place yet, but let me show you around, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
First, he showed her to the guestroom where she would be staying.
“It’s a really nice place, Mike.”
“It’s not much, but it’s warm and comfortable. No termites or dry rot.” He flashed a smile and moved on to the bathroom, the laundry, and the storage closet for her suitcases, before briefly noting his bedroom was down the hall.
“You’ve seen the living room, so, really, the only thing left is the kitchen.”
“I’m sure it’s amazing,” Zora said. “Ev and Sophia said it was better than the one at the restaurant.”
The instant they weaved into the kitchen Zora just stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. She didn’t say anything. Her posture seemed to collapse.
“What?” Mike felt his shoulders tense. “Is it okay?”
“Oh, my god.” Her gaze seemed to cloud.
A smirk pulled at the corner of Mike’s mouth. Deep down, he’d hoped she would like his kitchen. It was partially the reason he’d offered to let Zora stay with him. She’d been his inspiration when it was being built. Every appliance and surface were top of the line. On some level, he’d imagined her someday making use of it.
“The kitchen is yours if you want to work on your cookbook. I know you said you were going to use the commercial kitchen at Cuisinette, but you’re welcome to use anything I have. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” She held her hand to her chest as she scanned the room. “I love it. It’s my dream kitchen.” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and she closed it again, glancing around and blinking rapidly.
Mike folded his arms and nodded.
“You have an 84-inch-tall column, side-by-side stainless steel refrigerator and freezer. That’s a seven-burner double oven convection dual fuel range and a wall-mounted range hood.” A smile fixed itself on her face. “There’s a wine reserve, for heaven’s sake.”
Her brows knitted together in confusion as if she could not possibly reconcile Mike having top-of-the-line appliances.
“I don’t get it.” Zora bit her lip and slowly stepped onto the tile. She shook her head slightly. “You don’t know anything about food except how to eat as much of it as possible in one sitting. So, tell me why you have this dreamy commercial kitchen?”
Amusement bubbled in his throat and he bit back a smile. He ironed out his expression, then squinted in mock seriousness as he propped himself up on the wood and steel swivel barstool. He was trying to figure out an answer he thought she would accept.
“It came with the house.” He shrugged.
They weren’t square yet, but it was the one answer that would set off her fuse, and right now he kind of wanted a little revenge. She
looked dazed and wounded, like life was horribly unfair and she might fall out in a tantrum. Her luscious pink bottom lip jutted into an alarmingly sexy pout that made him want to bite it, then suck it. Hard.
He sighed.
“But you don’t even cook,” she whined. “I’ll bet your refrigerator literally has a pickle jar—sans pickles—an ancient Chinese food carton, and two ketchup packets. This is just…cruel.”
What was cruel was their forced proximity.
How was Mike not supposed to want her when she was adorable, funny, and sexy as hell?
That wasn’t fair.
She opened the fridge and confirmed her suspicions. “Yep. See, I knew it.”
This time, he allowed himself to laugh. Mike watched a few seconds longer as she sighed and ran her hands seductively over the range.
“Hello, handsome. I’m here now. I’m going to get your fire burning, and you, you sexy, neglected thing…”
Mike tried not to be turned on at the sight of Zora groping the refrigerator. His cock hardened in his slacks, but he reluctantly ignored it and chose to focus on the one thing that could sober him quickly.
“So…where’s this ‘date’ picking you up?” Mike asked without looking at her. He fidgeted with his hands. The thought of her kissing another man the way they’d kissed today tore at his insides.
He couldn’t sit back and watch. He needed to do something.
“Oh, uh…right. I didn’t want to have him come here, so I gave him the address to the restaurant since we were already set to do inventory.” She shot him a wincing, pleading look, which Mike guessed to mean don’t be mad at me. “I told him I’d meet him there at eight o’clock, so we have plenty of time. Maybe we could leave in an hour?”
Mike nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
He turned and silently retreated to his bedroom where he fell onto the bed with his hands propped behind his head and his eyes closed. Outside, he heard cars rushing by, wind chimes in the distance, and a clock ticking. The whole world was in motion, but Mike’s had come to a screeching halt with Zora at its center.
The heart of the matter clawed at him.
Mixed Emotions Page 9