“You mean you want to be skinny, because you’re already the best-looking woman I’ve seen in a very long time.”
Her eyes widened and her pretty face flushed with color. The guileless reaction instantly endeared her to him. It also told him she hadn’t been told what a knockout she was nearly often enough.
Brandi cleared her throat. “That’s very flattering, but I still have a goal to meet,” she said. “And the smells coming from your place are driving me bonkers. Look at me, I’m standing here in my pj’s at three in the morning practically begging you to turn your oven off.”
“Smells that good, huh?” Adam couldn’t suppress the big grin spreading across his face.
She frowned. “Better.”
Adam was exhausted. He’d initially planned to hold off making another cake, incorporating Brandi’s suggestions, until after he got some rest. However, the knowledge his baking had such an overwhelming effect on her instantly revitalized him. He stepped over to the walk-in pantry and retrieved a clean, bibbed apron from the hook inside. He pulled it over his head and washed his hands at the sink.
“What are you doing?” Brandi asked.
Adam retrieved two cake pans and deftly coated them with butter and a dusting of flour.
“Making a cake.” He pulled a roll of parchment paper from a drawer. “Have a seat. I’m sure you’ll want to taste the results of your suggestions.”
When he looked up, Brandi was still standing and she didn’t look pleased.
“The whole point of my coming here was to get you to stop.”
“Can’t do that.” He began assembling ingredients on the kitchen island countertop.
“Why not?” She paused and looked around. “Come to think of it, why are you up at this time of night cooking, anyway?”
“I’m preparing for a competition.”
“What kind of…?” She bumped her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Of course, it has to be a chocolate competition.”
Adam nodded. “More like the mother of all chocolate competitions. Pastry chefs come from all over to compete in the International Chocolate Pastry Competition.”
“So you’re a pastry chef?”
“Amateur.” He unwrapped a block of chocolate, placed it on a dry cutting board and began chopping it into small chunks with the edge of a serrated knife. “But last week I managed to win a chocolate pastry competition, and now I’m preparing to represent North America in the international event.”
“If the smells coming out of here are any indication, I’m not surprised you won.” Brandi’s eyes flitted back to the croissants and tarts. “Still, weren’t you intimidated by all those chefs with culinary degrees and years of experience?”
Adam shrugged. “I compete in the self-taught chef division, so I’m on somewhat equal footing with everyone else. Anyway, the competition was sort of a lark, and I didn’t think much about the competing aspect. I was just happy to be there.”
“And now?”
It means everything, Adam thought. “I quit my job to focus on the international competition, which pissed off just about everyone I know.” He measured out sugar, cocoa and an assortment of other ingredients and dumped them into a metal mixing bowl. “So I have a lot riding on the outcome.”
In the short silence, Adam reviewed the rewards of the competition. The grand prize for the winner of the amateur chef division included full-color spreads in both Gourmet and Cuisine et Vins de France magazines, a guest appearance as a judge on a Food Network dessert competition show and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in business start-up money.
While he could have easily pulled the money from one of his accounts, the prestige and exposure that came along with the other prizes were invaluable.
“I think it’s a gutsy move,” Brandi said.
Adam did a double take, not quite believing his ears. He’d heard his decision of late described in many ways. This had been the first favorable one he’d heard from someone besides his grandmother.
“Then you’re definitely in the minority.” He placed the metal bowl underneath a stainless-steel stand mixer and turned it on a low setting.
“So what was your old career?”
Adam hesitated a moment, silently debating how much to reveal. It appeared Ellison was just another surname to her. She hadn’t mentioned awareness of the parent company of the popular brands of detergent, dish soap and paper towels she used in her everyday life, and Adam wanted to keep it that way, at least for now.
“I worked for a household-goods company.”
Brandi wrinkled her nose. “Sounds dull. No wonder you quit,” she said. “How’d you get stuck in that job?”
Adam threw his head back and laughed. Her honesty was as fresh as her beauty. She also managed to sum up in one word how he’d felt each morning he’d donned a suit and tie and headed to work to pursue his father’s dream for him. Stuck.
“Long story short, it was chosen for me.” He braced his hands on the countertop. “How about you? What do you do for a living?”
“High school teacher.”
“Enjoy it?”
She shrugged. “I’m good at it, and I love the kids.”
He raised a brow. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Like you, it’s a long story, but let’s just say it wasn’t my first choice of career.”
Adam was curious, but didn’t press. He was going to enjoy getting to know his neighbor. This place was turning out to be an even better investment than he’d thought.
A growl sounded, again coming from the direction of Brandi’s stomach. He looked across the kitchen island at her and followed her gaze to the tarts and croissants he’d made earlier.
“You realize how ridiculous you’re being, right?”
She abruptly turned away from the pastries. The expression on her face reminded him of a kid caught with a hand elbow-deep in the cookie jar.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her stomach rumbled noisily, and he raised a brow. “Oh, I think you do,” he said. “I also think it’s silly for you to refuse food you obviously want and you’re more than welcome to enjoy.”
Her mouth tightened. “I already told you…”
“Yes, I know.” Adam checked the cake batter. “You’re starving yourself for your sister’s wedding.”
“Which brings me back to the reason I knocked on your door in the first place. I’m hoping we could find some kind of middle ground.”
“I don’t think there is one,” he said. “Until I perfect my entries, I expect to be working on them day and night.”
“Then my coming here was a total waste of time.”
Brandi’s frown morphed into a full-out scowl, and Adam realized his chances of getting her to go out with him were nil. He switched off the mixer. This was probably the last time she’d talk to him anyway, so he had nothing to lose by telling her exactly what he thought.
“The truth is I wouldn’t help you even if I could. It’s refreshing to see a shapely woman with an hourglass figure. Frankly, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help you to minimize a body I can’t keep my eyes off.”
Her mouth fell open, and her brown eyes narrowed, suspicion glinting in their depths. “So what are you, one of those chubby chasers like on that TV reality show?”
Adam paused for a moment trying to figure out what she was talking about, and then realization dawned. He threw his head back and laughed.
“No.” He shook his head, still laughing. “I’m just a normal guy who appreciates a woman with a few well-placed curves.”
Adam walked around the kitchen island where Brandi stood and sat on one of the stools she’d refused. He picked up the flakiest, most chocolate-infused croissant off the pile. The very one he knew she’d been ogli
ng.
“I also hate to see you deprive yourself of something I’d be delighted to give you.”
Brandi continued to glare at him. Then her gaze fell to the croissant and she licked her lips.
“No, thanks,” she said, but he could feel her resolve wavering.
“Come on, join me,” he coaxed, patting the stool beside him with his other hand. “Stop trying to resist the irresistible.”
Her back stiffened. “Oh, I can resist, all right,” she said. “Just watch me.”
Adam watched as she spun on the heel of her slipper and made her exit.
He took a bite out of the croissant and chewed. It was for the best, he told himself. His focus needed to be on the competition, not kissing that sexy mouth of hers until he made her moan for him the way she had over his chocolate.
Chapter 3
Brandi stifled a yawn with her fist.
“Are we boring you?”
“Of course not, Mom.” She silently cursed Adam for keeping her up all night. Thanks to him, she’d been forced to endure an entire morning of shopping with her mother and sister on nearly zero sleep.
It had been a mistake to go next door, Brandi fumed. A chocolate-scented condo was bad enough. Now she had to deal with the knowledge that only a thin wall separated her from the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
“Stop trying to resist the irresistible.”
His deep voice echoed in her head while an imagination-fueled vision of him feeding her chocolate played through her mind. In her fantasy, she didn’t attempt to resist, and sweets weren’t all he was offering.
“Brandi!”
Jolene Collins’s voice yanked her away from the chocolate-dipped-strawberries-with-her-nearly-naked-neighbor fantasy back to reality. “Stand up straight and spin around so we can see how this one looks on you.”
Brandi winced at her mother’s annoyed tone. She indeed deserved it and the disapproving frown, but for a different reason than her mom intended. She should be thinking up ways to avoid the man next door, not casting him as the leading man of her daydreams.
She turned slowly on the raised platform, while her mother and sister sat on the bridal salon’s floral armchairs scrutinizing the fit of yet another dress. Brandi averted her eyes from the three-way mirror as she rotated, not needing her reflection to confirm how absurd she looked squeezed into the red sequined mermaid-style dress. Not to mention the humongous bow riding her ample bottom.
Her mother was impeccably outfitted in a gray sweaterdress and matching suede boots that made her appear a decade younger than her sixty years. She leaned forward in her chair and surveyed Brandi, before exchanging a sidelong glance with Erin.
“Reject pile?”
Her sister nodded and turned to the beleaguered salon attendant, who scurried off for more dresses.
“I don’t know, Mom,” Erin whined. “Ashley, Taylor and Tiffany are still really upset about not being bridesmaids, and they’re my best friends.”
Jolene patted her youngest daughter’s hand, and a pang of longing lodged in Brandi’s chest. She’d always envied their special mother-daughter bond. Brandi tried to be good to her mother, but they’d grown apart in the years since Brandi’s father died.
Like Jolene Collins, Erin was petite and pretty, and together they were a striking pair. Next to them, Brandi, who favored her late father’s side of the family, felt like an elephant clomping alongside two swans.
“We’ve already been over this, honey. You and Maurice only got engaged on Christmas Eve and expect me to pull together a decent wedding by Valentine’s Day, this Valentine’s Day. No wedding planner would take on the job, and I barely have time to plan as it is. There isn’t time to corral a bunch of bridesmaids into fittings and such.”
“Yeah, I know.” Erin sighed.
“I tried to convince you to wait until summer,” their mother said. “You’ll have your nursing degree and Maurice would be done with his residency.”
Erin shook her head. “Everybody gets married during the summer. I want a Valentine’s Day wedding.”
“Well then, you’ll just have to settle for your sister as maid of honor.”
Brandi stepped down from the platform and inched her way toward the dressing room’s changing cubicle, her movements restricted by the tight-fitting gown.
“This is a disaster,” Erin said after Brandi was behind the cubicle door and presumably out of earshot. “All of the cute dresses look horrendous on her. Brandi’s wedding was a hot mess. Now she’s going to ruin mine.”
Unfortunately, Erin was terrible at whispering. So was their mother.
“Lord knows she was all boobs and behind before, but since Wesley took off…” her mother said.
“She must have gained at least thirty pounds,” Erin hissed. Twenty, Brandi silently corrected, wishing the dressing room had an escape hatch.
Brandi pushed open the cubicle door and walked back out to the mirrored area. “I don’t want to spoil this for you,” she told her baby sister. “You can ask one of your girlfriends to stand in as your maid of honor. I’ll be happy to sit with the guests while you and Maurice exchange vows.”
Erin’s eyes lit up. “You’d really do that for me?”
“Of course not,” their mother interjected. “Don’t be ridiculous, Brandi. How would it look if you weren’t in your own sister’s wedding? After your fiasco, I refuse to be publically humiliated again. I’ve only recently been able to show my face at my women’s club meetings. This wedding has to be perfect.”
The rustle of fabric signaled the attendant’s return, putting an end to the debate.
“I know you specified all-over sequins, but I took the liberty of bringing another style for your sister to try,” the attendant told Erin. “It’s a compromise, but should give you the look you want for your maid of honor as well as flatter her curves.”
“But I want…” Erin started to protest.
“Let her try it on, sweetheart.” Their mother cut her off. “This is the third shop we’ve been to, and we have several other appointments scheduled for this afternoon.”
“I don’t know, Mom,” Erin hedged.
“Valentine’s Day is just five weeks away. We don’t have a moment to waste.”
“Oh, all right,” Erin relented.
Brandi took the red dress from the attendant and headed back to the dressing cubicle. She slid the zipper down the side of the sequined bodice and slipped it over her head. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when the chiffon skirt slid easily over her hips and thighs.
She tugged the zipper upward before it caught at the halfway mark. A glance in the mirror revealed an inch-wide gap of skin stood between the zipper’s teeth.
“What’s taking you so long? Don’t tell me this one doesn’t fit, either.” Her mother tried to push open the cubicle door, but fortunately Brandi had had the foresight to latch it. “We don’t have all day. Your sister has an appointment with the baker this afternoon.”
“Come on,” Brandi begged, tugging at the zipper.
Holding her breath, she gave it one last yank and mouthed a silent prayer when it finally closed. It was a snug fit, but the style was more forgiving than the others she’d tried on.
She opened the cubicle door to find her mother standing in front of it with her arms crossed. “What on earth possessed you to lock the door? There’s nobody here but family.”
That’s exactly why, Brandi thought. “Sorry,” she said aloud.
“Well, let’s see what you look like,” Jolene said.
Brandi stepped up on the raised platform and ventured a peek at the mirror. Amazingly, the sequined, strapless bodice flattered her generous bustline.
Not bad, she thought, double-checking the flanking mirrors. An empire waistline gave the illusion of
a narrow waist before the dress released into a swirly skirt.
“Ahhh, this style is much better on you,” the attendant said. “You look beautiful.”
Brandi thanked her before glancing over at her mother and sister.
Her youngest sister gasped at the sight of her and her face broke out in a grin. “That’s it! We’ve finally found the dress. What do you think, Mom?”
Their mother’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized her from head to toe. “It looks a little tight to me.” Jolene stepped up on the platform and tugged at the dress’s ruched waistband. “Can you breathe?”
“It’s fine, Mom,” Brandi said.
“I don’t know, Erin. Looks to me like she needs to size up.” Their mother ignored Brandi’s protest. “It’s a close fit at best, and I expect in the weeks before the wedding, she’ll only get bigger.”
Erin flashed Brandi an apologetic look. “Just to be on the safe side,” she said.
“I’ll just pull one in the next size up for her to try on,” the attendant said.
“Make that two sizes bigger,” Jolene added. “I don’t want any last-minute snafus.”
“No, wait!” Brandi called out before she could stop herself.
Conversation halted, and the attendant stopped midstep. Brandi watched as three pairs of eyes fixed upon her.
“A larger size won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’m on a diet, and I’ve enrolled in an exercise class. In a few weeks, I’ll be wearing a smaller size, not larger.”
“Hmm.” Jolene’s lips remained pursed.
“It’s a boot camp class,” Brandi explained. “It’s only been a week, and I’m sore all over, but I’m determined to get this extra weight off.”
Her mother looked unimpressed. “It’s nice that you’re trying, dear, but you do realize the wedding is just five weeks away.”
Brandi nodded. “I do, and I’m still buying this dress.”
Jolene rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. “Okay, but I’m going to pay for one in the larger size myself, just in case…” Her voice trailed off, but the unspoken “you fail” echoed in Brandi’s head.
Taste for Temptation (Kimani Hotties) Page 3