Forever Starts Now

by London, Stefanie

  “Sure.”

  “The icing looks good.”

  “We call it frosting here, Mr. Australia. And it is good.” She used a spatula to scoop some of the thick, glossy white substance into a triangle-shaped bag fitted with a silver nozzle. “Italian buttercream was always my favorite. She can be a tricky mistress, but the results are worth a little extra effort and care.”

  Monroe piped the frosting in steady, plump swirls on the top of two of the cupcakes. It was fascinating to watch her work, her wrist giving a light flick at the end of each swirl to create a perfect little peak. Then she dusted the tops with what looked to be tiny pieces of some kind of brittle or caramel. Or maybe it was a special salt. Then she stuck a pretzel stick into a small white marshmallow and placed it on top.

  “It really does look like a hammer,” he said as she handed it over. He turned the small cake around carefully to inspect it from all sides.

  “If I was making them for an event, I would airbrush the marshmallow silver and gray so it looked more like a hammer. But for freebies, I think these will do fine.” She peeled down the pink paper cup until the side of the cupcake was exposed. It looked soft and delicious. “See, a good cupcake is all about texture and ratios. You want the right balance of frosting and cake. The cake should be light and springy, not too dense. It has to be moist without being underdone. And the frosting needs to be silky smooth, with no graininess from the sugar as well as being the right amount of sweetness to balance the other flavors.”

  She bit into the side of the cupcake, not being delicate about it but getting a good amount of both frosting and cake.

  “Hmmmm.” The sound that came out of her mouth was the most sensual thing Ethan had ever heard and it shot through his system like a bullet. “That’s delicious, if I do say so myself.”

  Ethan followed her lead and found himself making a similar noise. “That’s bloody good. I could eat this every day.”

  Monroe glowed at the compliment. She’d ended up with a tiny dot of frosting on the tip of her nose, and Ethan didn’t even think for a second before his hand reached out to capture it. She laughed and handed him a piece of paper towel to wipe his hand clean. As she did, their fingertips brushed and Ethan would swear something crackled in the air between them.

  This woman surprised him.

  “You’re very talented,” Ethan said. He took another bite of the cupcake and it was every bit as delicious as the first. “This is as good as any cake I’ve had from a professional bakery or cake shop.”

  She lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “Following a recipe isn’t hard.”

  “But you’re not following recipes, are you? You’re creating them.”

  Her dark eyes lifted up to his and he saw something shift in their depths. “Don’t you go saying I need to turn my hobby into a business, I get enough of that from my family and Big Frank.”

  “I don’t think enjoyment needs to be capitalized.” He polished off the last piece of the cake and enjoyed every single crumb of it. “But I have to question why a woman with so much talent would then go on a reality show if there was no ambition to take it further. If it’s just a hobby, why compete?”

  “At one time in my life I needed the external validation,” she replied with a shrug.

  Ethan wasn’t buying it. It seemed like a canned answer since it was clear she’d been asked about this a lot. And really, nothing he had to say—words from a stranger, really—would change her mind.

  “You really think a Thor costume and cupcakes are going to save the diner?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head, and he caught the sadness rolling off her. “But I have to try. I figure you were able to fill the seats, right? Now we just need to get people to buy.”

  “I thought you hated the diner being overcrowded and busy?”

  “Overcrowded with people spending five dollars and then sitting there for several hours. That’s not how you make a successful business.” She popped the rest of the cupcake into her mouth and balled up the paper liner, tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Ethan did the same. “I guess I was happy cruising for a while, making small changes and thinking that would be enough. Clearly it’s not. And frankly…”

  She wiped her hands down the front of her apron and his eyes tracked the movement. Then she reached for the ties behind her waist and released them so she could slip the apron over her head.

  “Frankly,” she repeated. “I don’t want any more upheaval in my life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve lost my mom. I watched my dad go from an active, spritely man to struggling to deal with reduced mobility in his leg and foot. I lost my husband and the life I thought I’d signed up for. I lost…my future.”

  “If you’re alive, you haven’t lost your future, Monroe.” He shook his head, rejecting the idea. “If you’re still drawing breath, then you still have a chance to make your life what you want it to be.”

  “That’s very poetic.” She sighed. “And it’s clear you’re one of those people who’s completely driven by your desire to achieve a goal.”

  “Why do you say that?” He wasn’t going to deny it, because it was 100 percent true. But he was curious to hear her response.

  “You put your whole life on hold to come to America in search of your father based on little more than a name and an approximate date of death. It’s…” She shook her head. “Who does that?”

  “Someone who thinks the truth is important.”

  He wished he could hear the thoughts swirling around in her head. But why did he feel so compelled to connect with her? To prove that she didn’t have to worry about him hurting her like others had?

  What she feels is none of your business. This is a fake relationship.

  And yet…

  He was thinking about agreeing to wear that stupid Thor suit to help her out. He was counting down the days until they were stuck in a creepy haunted house together because he thought it would be romantic. He was thinking about her more and more. Even more than what he was supposed to be thinking about.

  “I was about to get married,” he said, not exactly sure why he wanted her to know. “When my mum got sick, I was engaged. My fiancée had her dress all picked out and…we had so many plans. The house we were going to build, the family we were going to create, the dreams we were going to pursue together.”

  Monroe frowned, and for a second her eyes appeared glossy. But perhaps it was a trick of the light. “What changed?”

  “Sarah was a great woman. She was smart and ambitious, climbing her way up the corporate ladder and being an inspiration for everyone.” He’d loved her. Really loved her. “When Mum got sick, I decided to take a leave of absence from my work to move back home and support her. The company was great about it and Sarah was very supportive. She stayed in Melbourne and came down every weekend to see us. But…”

  He still remembered the day he broke her heart.

  “When Mum told me the truth about my father, something in me snapped. After the funeral was over I told Sarah I had to come here and find him. She thought I was joking at first.” He shook his head. “And then she was angry because she wanted our wedding to go ahead and she felt like I was pulling the rug out from under her. Everything we’d planned, I wanted to put it all on hold for an indeterminate amount of time. We fought and she gave me an ultimatum: if I chose to leave, then that was it. No wedding, no relationship.”

  “And you still left?”

  “I had to, Monroe.” For some reason, he wanted her to understand. He wanted someone to understand. “I had to find him. I had to say goodbye to the relationship I never got to have, to what could have been. I had to close the circle.”

  “I’m sorry she didn’t support you,” Monroe said softly. “Family is everything to me, so I know why you did it. I had to sacrifice things for my family, too. But inst
ead of leaving, like you did, I had to stay.”

  She came toward him, pressing a hand to his chest like she wanted to infuse him with her empathy. Like she wanted to connect. Ethan closed his hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against his palm. He breathed in the scent of caramel and sugar lingering in the air, and he took in the glory of her—the halo of ginger frizz that framed her face, the dark, mesmerizing eyes, and every one of her freckles.

  It had been a long time since he felt understood.

  And now that feeling had come from the most unexpected and wonderful place. This might be a fake relationship, but the desire and desperation flooding through his body right now was anything but fake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monroe wasn’t sure why she was feeling this way. Was it a sugar high? Some kind of hot guy magic? Or maybe she’d accidentally electrocuted herself and this was some kind of coma-dream?

  “I guess we’re not so different after all,” he said. Ethan’s blue eyes roamed her face and the pound of his pulse against her palm was surprisingly erotic. He was still holding her hand in place, and they were close.

  So close.

  “You’re not as grumpy as me,” she said with a laugh.

  “I don’t think you’re as grumpy as you think you are. You care about your family more than anything, you take care of your colleagues, you work hard and…well, you’ve helped me and I’m just a stranger.”

  “You don’t feel like a stranger,” she said, without thinking about what it meant. Without thinking that it might shatter a barrier between them that she desperately needed.

  But it was true. Ethan felt like someone she could have known her whole life—he was open, warm, self-effacing. He was exactly the kind of man she always dreamed of.

  “You don’t feel like a stranger, either.” He slipped one hand along her jaw, driving his fingers into her hair.

  The air snapped and popped around them and Monroe felt her eyes flutter shut in response, her body giving over to the need driving through her body. Giving over to him. When Ethan’s lips touched her own, tentative and gentle at first, and then harder and more searching, she melted into him. His strong arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close, cradling her.

  She kissed him back, her lips and tongue finding a rhythm with him, and for a moment she let herself believe in it all—that this meant something, that she had this life, this future, with a man like him. She let herself drown in the fantasy of it.

  Ethan backed her up and suddenly she was wedged between him and the wall of her apartment. She gasped as his body lined hers, hard everywhere. Solid and trustworthy and so, so decadent.

  “We didn’t talk about this,” she said, her head rolling back and a soft moan falling from her lips as he kissed her neck. “What are the rules?”

  “Ladies first?” His smile was wicked.

  “I mean…” It was so very hard to speak when his hands were on her hips, solid and splayed with the tips of his fingers brushing the skin underneath her T-shirt. It was torture. “We only talked about a kiss.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  His expression turned serious, but Monroe’s mouth popped open before her poor brain even had the chance to have a say. “No.”

  The lust in Ethan’s eyes was electrifying. He looked at her…

  Like she was beautiful.

  Like she was special.

  Like she mattered.

  And it had been a long time since anybody had looked at her like that. It was addictive—a sugary lollipop of emotion that made her want more, more, more. But her heart screamed out for protection.

  “This doesn’t mean we’re really dating,” she said, sliding her hands up and down his chest, delighting in the way his muscles felt under her palms. “This is still a fake relationship because we both need something from each other. Sex doesn’t change that.”

  He nodded and she couldn’t tell if he was insulted by her need to draw a line in the sand. But she’d fallen victim to loving a man she shouldn’t before—a man who was chronically unavailable. Who was willing to leave when she couldn’t.

  Which was exactly what Ethan had done to his ex.

  And she understood his reasons—they were meaningful. Important. But he still left his fiancée behind and Monroe would never get left behind ever again.

  “Is that it? Negotiations over?” He brushed his lips along her jaw, one hand skating up over her rib cage to palm her breast as he pressed her against the wall.

  “Unless you want something?”

  “Just you, naked. Under me.”

  “You have a way with words. I bet it works a treat on most women.” She tipped her face up to his, needing to hang on to her defiance. Needing to hang on to her sharp edges and her walls and her prickly outer shell. Because the more time she spent with Ethan, the stronger the impulse was to shed those things…and she knew that was a bad idea.

  She needed those things.

  Without them, she would be exposed. The soft, squishy parts of her that she tried so damn hard to hide would be ready for Ethan to take his aim.

  His full lips tipped up into a devastating smirk. “It’s going to work a treat on you, too, Monroe.”

  Heat trickled through her system, flooding her veins with delicious, sparkling warmth. When Ethan lowered his head to hers, his hand slid up the side of her neck and his thumb caught the underside of her chin to push her head back. He swept his tongue into her mouth, pressing his hard body against hers and wedging her against the wall. He kissed like he meant it. Like he wanted to consume her.

  And she was pretty damn sure there would be a Monroe-shaped scorch mark on her living room wall when they were done.

  Fake relationship or not, there was no denying the very real attraction. Monroe felt it course through her veins, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She felt it in the tautness of Ethan’s muscles, like he was an animal coiled and ready to pounce. She felt it…lower, too.

  He thumbed her hardened nipple. “See, so quiet now.”

  “You always have a trick up your sleeve, don’t you?”

  He kissed down her neck, his fingers moving to the buttons running the length of the pretty top she’d found stuffed in the back of her closet, a relic from another time. He popped one open and then another, exposing her through the widening V of the fabric.

  “No tricks,” he murmured against her neck. “Because a trick implies you don’t know what’s coming and you, Monroe, know exactly what’s coming.”

  “Do I now?” Her voice was husky, lust-fueled. She sounded so unlike herself that if she were only listening to audio, she wouldn’t have recognized herself.

  “I’m going to take you to bed.” Another button slipped through its hole. Then another. “I’m going to keep you up all night. Then I’m going to buy you breakfast in the morning, like a good boyfriend does. And you’re going to love every second of it.”

  “That a fact?” she whispered.

  “Absolutely.” When Ethan looked up at her, his blue eyes gleamed with intensity. His pupils were wide with arousal and it made her want to drown in him.

  “Okay,” she breathed. “Yes. One night.”

  “No regrets.”

  Could she determine that in advance? Monroe wasn’t sure. But she nodded so he’d keep opening those silly, tiny buttons and keep kissing her.

  Victory danced in his eyes, but Ethan didn’t say anything else. Why bother? He had what he wanted. What she wanted, too. He lowered himself down her body, lips blazing a trail over her collarbone and down her chest. His fingers worked the remaining buttons and then he shoved the fabric aside and snapped the front closure of her bra open, exposing her to his mouth. A pleasant hum vibrated against her skin.

  “Yes.” The word hissed out of her, sizzling like water splashing a hot stove. She arched into him, her focus g
rowing fuzzy around the edges.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, his lips grazing her breasts.

  God, no. It had been so long since she’d had sex that it had fallen off the edge of Monroe’s attention. She hadn’t missed it, hadn’t craved it…not until Ethan had kissed her in Loren’s kitchen. Not until this mysterious man had swept into her life and stirred up all kinds of things she had hoped she’d never feel again.

  Her fingers threaded into his thick golden hair. The strands were soft against her palms, smooth and sturdy. Like him. She pushed his head lower—showing, rather than telling him what she wanted.

  A rough chuckle vibrated against her chest and her instinct was to push him away, to shrink with embarrassment. But his lips were around her nipple and sucked, his tongue flicking against her in a way that drew a moan right from the back of her throat.

  Her head fell back, knocking softly against the wall as her body turned molten beneath his touch. He scraped his teeth against her skin, gentle and yet the friction made fire race through her veins. How had she forgotten what this felt like? The need for more was a whisper in her bloodstream. Once he finished with one breast, he turned to the other, and she had to brace her hands behind her.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured, his face pressed against her skin. “I want to taste the rest of you.”

  “Yes.” The word was out before she even had time to consider what he was asking. Or what she was giving away. “Bedroom. Now.”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her room. It was modest, like the rest of this place. Borderline barren. Just a double bed with a simple gray duvet and a nightstand with a lamp that she’d found for five dollars at the thrift store. No pictures, no decoration. Even the view was nothing special—since she looked right at the brick wall of another building.

  Suddenly, she felt a little self-conscious even though she knew Ethan had been traveling across the country, with only a backpack to his name. But he came from more—the story about the life he’d left behind, the well-paying job in a big, fancy city, and the fiancée who matched him in drive and ambition.