Before he left, a cream-colored clump of frosting on the cake knife hailed his addiction. The silky-smooth, sugary indulgence melted on his tongue, triggering another involuntary throaty groan.
“You like the cake?”
The husky-soft female voice sent a jolt of physical reaction through his body. He sucked the remaining frosting from his thumb as he spun around. “I love the—”
His voice froze when he saw the woman he’d been avoiding all evening. Gleaming red curls in a sexy, messy pile on top her head, sparkling green eyes brightened by the luxuriant emerald of her dress, and the sensual curve of glossed lips all combined for a triple threat without the safety filter of his camera lens.
“Cake,” he finished as he lowered his hand. “Have you had a piece?”
Humor warmed her smile, as if his answer pleased her. “I’ve tasted it.”
To combat the flustering effect of that smile on his racing pulse, he dropped his gaze. Her dress revealed an alluring hint of cleavage before skimming along the rest of her curves. The high, strategic slit along her right thigh gave him a glimpse of one of the shapely legs he’d appreciated from across the street earlier that day.
The top of her head barely reached his chin, and without heels, her petite height would no doubt stimulate a man’s protective instincts. His were fired up and ready to go right now—until he realized he’d given her a thorough once-over as if he were a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks and she was a freshly grilled steak.
Or a slice of Honor Hartman wedding cake.
Asher cast a casual glance around for the boyfriend. Nothing like another guy—or two if he counted the proposer on the lawn—to put his mind back where it belonged.
Instead of the blond boyfriend, he caught sight of Roxanna, shaking her head while waving her hands in a strange circular motion in front of her. She started making some other gestures, none of which made any sense. He shifted his gaze to his brother standing next to her, but Merit just shrugged with his palms up.
What the hell? You’d think a psychic could communicate better.
“You’re the photographer, right?”
The question brought his gaze back to the woman in front of him. Her green eyes had flecks of gold around the irises. The right one had an intriguing freckle next to the pupil that made him want to lean in for a closer look.
He managed to stay right where he was as he replied, “Guilty. Actually, I was pulling double-duty today; Shawn and I have been friends since the second grade.”
“Ah, got it.”
When her gaze dropped slightly, his pulse leapt with the realization she was staring at his lips. He quelled the urge to lick them even as her eyes darkened the slightest bit. A heady thrill of anticipation shortened his breath, and then she lifted her hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of his mouth.
A spark of electricity transferred from her skin to his. Asher automatically lifted his left hand to cover hers, but she’d already pulled back. He had a split-second glimpse of cream-colored frosting before her lips parted and her tongue darted out to lick the sweet confection from her thumb.
A molten tsunami of heat shot straight to his groin as their gazes locked once again.
Her eyes widened. A fierce blush camouflaged the freckles on her cheeks and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just did that.”
Smiling to put her at ease even as his body tightened with primal hunger, he swiped the back of his hand across his tingling lips to remove any remaining frosting. “No problem.”
“Occupational hazard, I guess.”
He cocked an eyebrow at the odd comment, trying to muddle through the lust fogging his brain.
“I can’t help but taste,” she explained with a cute, sheepish grin. “Um, when I’m baking, I mean.” She gave a roll of her eyes and another smile. “Not that I’m baking now, obviously, but when I am, I can tell by the taste of the batter if it’s missing something. Everything has to be just right.”
Batter?
Asher turned to eye the cake.
No.
“Oh, no—don’t worry, the cake is safe,” she quickly assured him. “I don’t lick my fingers and put them back in the bowl. I always wash my hands. Well…almost always.”
The admission brought his gaze back to her as the dread in his gut mushroomed.
She laughed and cringed at the same time, her hands rising to press against her red cheeks. “I’m going to shut up now. Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“How is it you know Shawn and Miesha?” It was a dumb question. He already knew the answer. He didn’t want her to confirm it, and yet he hadn’t been able to keep from asking on the off chance he was wrong.
Please be wrong.
She lowered her hands to her sides as she said, “I designed the cake.”
Shit. “You’re Honor Hartman.”
Her smile faltered at his flat statement. “Guilty.”
His lewd libido jumped up and kicked the romantic sap’s ass while he imagined this real life version of Honor Hartman across the street from his house, in the kitchen wearing a skimpy apron—and nothing else.
“Son-of-a-bitch.”
Chapter 3
“Excuse me?”
Honor’s shocked, offended question was spoken to the man’s back as he strode for the exit. She blinked when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rude disappeared out the door, realized her jaw hung ajar, and snapped it shut on a disbelieving laugh.
The outright rejection stung after he’d seemed interested. Hell, at one point he’d seemed more than interested—right after she wiped the frosting off his lip and his amber eyes darkened beneath the wavy locks of near-black hair falling over his forehead. Everything inside her had gone on alert, her breath seized in her throat, and her already racing heart stumbled in her chest. With the way she’d been single-mindedly focusing on her business the past year, the visceral reaction had knocked her totally off-balance.
Speaking of which, she still couldn’t believe she’d touched his mouth and then licked the frosting off her thumb!
Belatedly, she turned and swept her gaze around the room. Hopefully, no one else had noticed the intimate gesture. Sam wouldn’t be happy if she goofed everything up after they’d carried their charade through the entire evening.
She did some unnecessary arranging of the sage green napkins while thoughts of the photographer crowded back in, along with a twinge of disappointment. Obviously, he’d heard of her, but what had he heard about her that sent him running for the foothills? He’d looked distressed when she confirmed she’d baked the cake.
Maybe it was the finger-licking?
No. She hadn’t mistaken the smoky flare of desire in his gorgeous eyes. And she’d never met a guy who didn’t find that somewhat of a turn on—even if she hadn’t done it intentionally.
Still, she wondered at his abrupt departure. She didn’t think it was the tall brunette she’d seen him with—they acted more like friends, or siblings. They hadn’t even danced once.
Hmm. The rare man she dated more than once or twice didn’t usually run away until after they met her mom. Much as she loved her mother, Honor silently agreed with anyone who had the nerve to declare her certifiable. As for her dad, well, no one had ever stuck long enough to meet him.
You’ve never kept them around long enough.
True. But better to leave than be left. A fact she witnessed up close and personal with her mother four times now. And each time, her mother fell apart until she found the next man to take care of her. Until he didn’t. Made it a little hard to buy into the whole I love you ‘til death do us part thing when exposed to that kind of carnage over and over.
Honor sighed and scooped up a finger-full of frosting like she’d seen the sexy photographer do. No matter how many cakes she made, she still loved the decadent butter cream.
Too bad sugar doesn’t solve man problems.
Problems? She stiffened her spine as the thought tr
iggered a spike of annoyance. The man’s snub wasn’t a problem—it was a blessing. Right?
Right.
Well…maybe.
Honor sighed. Okay, fine. She didn’t have time to date at the moment, but some fun with the hot photographer would’ve been a nice change from twenty-four-seven work. She wasn’t a one night stand kind of girl, but man, it had been a while, and with a guy like that, rules were meant to be broken.
“Hey, Sweetie Pie.”
She jumped at the male voice directly behind her.
Nope, she was going back to the snub definitely being a blessing. She had enough man problems. Make that friend problems. More like issues—or situations, or…whatever.
Sam’s arms slid around her waist to pull her back against his broad chest. As she considered who might be watching, suddenly the past few minutes made sense. He—the photographer—had seen her with Sam all night.
A new wave of disappointment rushed forward. Wasn’t that just her luck? Now she wanted to run after the guy and explain, but of course, she couldn’t do that.
Why did I let Sam talk me into this?
She turned around in her friend’s arms and leaned back a few inches. “We both know Penny’s gone already so ease up, Romeo.”
He dipped down to kiss her nose with a grin. “Her mom is still at the bar, and I can feel her sister’s glare stabbing between my shoulder blades as we snuggle.”
“What about the bride and groom?” she asked with a discrete glance past his shoulder. “I know they’re your friends, but I can’t afford to jeopardize my business with this little break-up scene.”
“They left after the Grand March so it’s not going to ruin anything for them. It’s the perfect time.”
Too bad they couldn’t have done it half an hour ago. Before she met the hot photographer. Maybe he would’ve offered her a shoulder to cry on.
No. Forget him.
“All right, then,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Let’s do it.”
Honor took a deep breath and pushed against his chest. Sam tried to grasp her arms, but she twisted free and strode toward the main entrance. His footsteps shadowed hers, and she threw a disgusted look at him over her shoulder. He gave her an awkward smile and reached to take her hand in his. She yanked her fingers away and kept walking.
“Honey—”
She whirled around to glare at him and felt a couple of her curls tumble loose. “Don’t try to make up for it now.”
With a self-conscious look toward the bar, Sam took her arm and attempted to usher her toward the door while speaking in a low voice. “Let’s go outside.”
“No. Right here’s fine.” She forced her voice louder. “Everyone saw what you did.”
“What did I do?” Sam asked, looking genuinely confused. Good.
“You couldn’t take your eyes off Penny all night.”
“And I suppose you hitting on that guy over by the cake was okay?”
Honor lifted her eyebrows.
“Yeah, that’s right, I saw you.” Sam winked to soften his accusatory tone.
Her face warmed. “He had frosting on his chin—big deal. At least I wasn’t staring at my ex all evening.” She shoved a curl behind her ear and crossed her arms. “It’s obvious you still have feelings for her.”
“She was in the bridal party—”
“Are you still in love with her?” Honor made sure her voice trembled with just the right amount of heartbreak. It wasn’t hard. She’d heard the emotion in her mother’s voice many times.
Sam’s cheeks flushed, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as his injured gaze locked with hers. Oops…too much? They hadn’t scripted this part, and he obviously hadn’t expected her to go that far. But the whole public breakup had been his idea, and it seemed to fit in the scene.
“Are you?” she pressed, despite a prick of guilt.
Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his expression rigid as his jaw clenched. “I refuse to have this conversation here.”
He brushed past her, and for the second time in ten minutes, a man walked away from her.
Chapter 4
Honor donned a black tank top, zip-up sweatshirt, and cut-off jean shorts before heading straight for the coffee pot in her brand new kitchen. With a steaming cup of crème brûlée roast in hand, she wove through the pile of boxes the movers had deposited in the living room yesterday afternoon before the wedding.
Mae was coming to help unpack tomorrow after her son’s tee-ball game, but as soon as Honor had her coffee, she planned to get as much done today as possible. Between being a single parent to six-year-old, Ian, and operating her own construction and remodeling business, her best friend worked even more than Honor did, and it had been ages since they’d been able to sit down and visit.
Out on the sunlit porch, she curled one bare foot underneath her on the swing, pushed with the other, and sipped her coffee pensively. Sam still refused to answer her calls or texts. Yes, it was early, but she wanted to apologize as soon as possible. They were only supposed to make his ex jealous, not shout out to everyone and her sister that he was still in love with the woman.
Honor ran a hand through her damp hair, hoping he’d forgive her. The question had slipped out because she wasn’t sure Penny was worth all the heartache Sam had gone through. Then again, after watching her mother’s fourth divorce and her father’s third, the whole concept of soul mate love seemed absurd. But, she now realized, that was for Sam to decide, not her.
She dated for fun, occasionally enjoyed the opposite sex for obvious reasons, and then she moved on before anything got too serious. The only life-long commitment she planned to make was to her business and her mortgage.
Tracing her gaze up along one of the massive, rustic wood porch columns, she rejoiced in the fact this house was all hers. She’d fallen in love the moment she saw the internet listing a month ago. Wraparound porch—with a swing. Two stories, three bedrooms, two baths, lush, green lawn with mature trees in the backyard—all in a quiet, suburban neighborhood.
One drive down Hopewell Lane, and the place had called to her soul like a man never had. She’d felt it in her bones—for the first time in her life she could have a real home.
Her brother Joshua had gone over the financials, all the while pointing out the impracticality of such a large house for just her, but she’d weighed it from all sides and was confident in her plan. The gourmet kitchen with double ovens meant she would no longer have to pay a percentage of her profits to use the kitchen in the bistro across from her old city apartment. Better yet, no more third shift baking because that was the only time the ovens were available.
With more time available, she could bake more cakes, which would easily offset the couple hundred more per month between her house payment and what she’d been paying for rent. Not to mention, padding her calendar with bookings wouldn’t be a problem if she landed the Diamond wedding.
No, when she landed Celia Diamond’s wedding.
She took a sip of her cooling coffee and sent a quick prayer heavenward. Rumors were circulating that Governor Mark Diamond was planning a run for the United States Senate. Crafting the cake for his daughter’s big day would showcase her work to the upper echelons of Colorado’s social and political elite.
One cake could boost her up to the next level and get her another step closer to her ultimate goal of opening a shop with an actual storefront.
The bride had loved two of the three custom designs she’d emailed, but the real test would be Saturday night, when she provided four cakes for the governor’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. It was the equivalent of a paid taste test, with the added bonus of Mrs. Diamond inviting her to attend the party as a guest.
Her stomach flipped with a combination of excitement and anxiety as she thought about the opportunity to mingle and network, even though it was a whole week away.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she leaned her head back to let the peaceful morning soothe
her nerves as a cool breeze skimmed over her skin.
Hmm…heaven.
After another moment, she forced herself to move her butt. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t sit out here all morning. Not if she wanted Mae to actually relax and eat pizza with her and Ian instead of the two of them one-handing their lunch while unpacking all her stuff.
She started inside with her empty cup when her gaze caught on the For Sale/Sold sign still in her yard. The realty company was supposed to have come by to remove it yesterday.
Leaving her cup on the railing, she headed down the front porch steps. Cold dew slicked her bare feet, making her shiver as she skimmed across the grass to the edge of the lawn. Grasping the wood post with both hands, she tried to pull it from the ground. It didn’t budge. The sign was set deep into the earth; no cheap posters and wire here.
Honor pushed one way, pulled another, and succeeded in gaining about a quarter inch wiggle room. Unfortunately, when she tried to pull the post out, it still wasn’t enough.
Waggling it back and forth some more, she glanced up as a bicyclist zoomed around the corner on a black mountain bike. The guy slowed as he approached, and though she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her with those mirrored sunglasses, she offered a friendly smile and half-wave. His fingers lifted slightly in response before he made a sudden turn into the driveway of the house across from her.
She watched with increased interest as the garage door rose. Looked like she’d get to meet her first neighbor.
Please let him be nice.
Her gaze traveled over his athletic build as he got off the bike and reached up to remove his helmet. Black shorts and a black sleeveless T-shirt emphasized broad shoulders, trim hips, and very nicely defined arms, ass, and thighs. He hung the helmet on a handle bar and shook his head before reaching to run his fingers through dark hair that was a little longer on top compared to the sides and back.
Must Love Frosting Page 2