“Wrist slap, that’s all. I’ve been trying to protect her from the worst of it. She’s really talented and the company needs her. I do, too, she’s been a big help to me. So I really didn’t want to see her swing for one mistake, even a bad one.”
Angela unclenched her jaw. “You are very sweet.”
“She brought me brownies. I’ll do anything for a woman who gives me brownies. Or—”
“How old is this woman you’d do anything for?”
“I was going to say, or a woman who gives me cupcakes.” He spoke gently. “There is only you, Angela. Believe me. “
Pleasure and sheepish relief poured over her like warm honey. She leaned back in her chair and grinned lovingly at the ceiling. “Really?”
“Re-e-ally.” His voice took on a suggestive tone that made her smile harder.
“Am I pathetic for making you tell me?”
“You were hurt by a schmuck, Angela. It will take time to trust me.”
The rest of her tension fled from the oncoming rush of goopy happiness. Daniel had understood her neuroses instead of blaming her for them. Imagine that. “I think I need to ask for something else, a little more reassurance.”
“Go ahead.”
“Well…” Her grin turned naughty. “If I told you I was sitting in my office in a miniskirt with no underwear on would that make you think about Rebecca?”
His breath hissed through his teeth. “Um…no.”
“And if I told you that my hand was slo-o-owly making its way down between my legs, would you be interested in that image?”
He groaned. “Angela, I have to go to a meeting in three minutes. I don’t think it would be appreciated if I walk in with the Eiffel Tower in my pants.”
“No?” She had to turn the phone away so he wouldn’t hear her laughing. “Mmm, I’m spreading myself wider. Wide open for you, Daniel. Can you picture that?”
“Yes. Yes.” His frustration was obvious. “You are torturing me.”
“Gosh, I am so sorry.” She waited a beat before giving a sexy moan.
“What now? What?”
“I just put my finger inside myself,” she whispered. “Ohh, now two fingers. In and out. It’s warm, slippery and so tight in there.”
“I’ll get you for this.”
A knock at her office door shot Angela up in her seat. Alice. Gah! “Yikes, someone at the door, gotta go. When do I get to see you next?”
He chuckled. “Karma in action. I’ll be over tonight. Larry got back to me on your pastries, and we should—”
“He did?” She stood and held up her hand at the window to let Alice know she’d be another second. “What’s the word?”
“We’ll talk about it tonight, okay? You have to go, and I do to.”
“Daniel…”
“All hope is not lost. I’ll be over after closing. ’Bye.”
Honestly. Angela put down the phone. He couldn’t just say thumbs up or down? Though maybe there wasn’t a final decision yet.
She opened her door. “Sorry, what’s up, Alice?”
“Scott needs help out front.”
“Sure.” She saved the schedule document—lavender éclairs still on it—and hurried out to the front, where Scott was finishing with one customer and five more waited.
“Who’s next?”
Scott jerked his mane of black hair toward a young man, handsome in an unusual way—slightly heavy, dark features, hooded eyes, kind of a sexy Italian cherub.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” He was looking at her intently, as if he knew her, while he didn’t look at all familiar. “Uh. I’d like to buy some cookies?”
“Sure.” She gestured to the trays in the display case. “Any favorites?”
“Not…really.”
“An assortment maybe?”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay, yeah.”
“How many?”
“Uh…two dozen?”
She nodded and pulled out a box, thinking he was acting like his mom sent him to buy something and he was scared of screwing it up. His mom or maybe a dominatrix girlfriend. If you do this wrong, Paolo, there’s serious punishment happening tonight. “Two dozen, coming up.”
“And cupcakes, too.”
“What kind?” She finished packing the cookies and laid them on the counter. “How many?”
“Oh.” He frowned, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Two dozen?”
Angela almost giggled. Paolo didn’t know how many or what kind. He was getting his bottom paddled for sure. “Assorted flavors?”
“Yeah. Well…make it three dozen. I guess.”
He guessed. Maybe the dominatrix girlfriend was having a party, and Paolo got to play serving-boy.
“Any pastries?” She gestured to the international section. “We have an assortment over here that—”
“No, no, I don’t want any of those.” He spoke as if they smelled bad. Angela pressed her lips together, making an effort to keep looking pleasant. Not his fault, but she could definitely use a vote of confidence in her recipes right about now. Especially if Slatewood didn’t come through. “How about some of those brownies?”
Two dozen cookies, three dozen cupcakes, four dozen assorted brownies, a dozen each scones, muffins and cinnamon rolls later, she was hoping this guy came back often. “That it?”
“That’s it.” He was still staring at her, and she was pretty sure she didn’t look like a dominatrix.
“There you go.” Angela handed him the pile of boxes stacked in a paper shopping bag bearing the bakery cornucopia logo. “Come again.”
“I’d like to.” He backed away a few steps, smiling at her, before he turned and left the shop.
“Someone’s crushing on you,” Scott murmured next to her.
“Yeah, what was that about?” She smiled welcome at her next customer, her favorite, Marjorie, today dressed in a rich yellow softly tailored suit with matching raincoat, the sunshine Seattle had been irritatingly without this month. “Hi, Marjorie. Ready for your muffin today? Cinnamon roll?”
“I can’t live without your cinnamon rolls.”
“Cinnamon roll coming up. Did you want to try any pastry today? Another fruit tart?”
“No, thank you, dear.” She looked concerned and a bit confused, shaking her head. “If I may say…?”
“Of course.” Angela handed her the roll in a waxed bag. “You may say anything.”
“Those pastries.” She gestured to them with a gaunt ringed hand. “They aren’t quite— They lack passion.”
Angela didn’t understand, but this was the second time someone had dissed her international selection in the past ten minutes, and she was not amused. Not today, when Daniel had already declined to talk about the outcome of Slatewood’s decision. It felt like a bad omen. “They lack passion?”
“Yes.” Marjorie smiled, handing over exact change. “That’s it. You’re not in love with them. Thank you.”
“You’re…welcome.” Angela looked at her carefully. Were her eyes more vague than usual?
“Hmm.” Scott rang up another order as Marjorie walked out. “I think a few brain cylinders misfired there.”
“I worry about her.”
“You worry about everything. Thanks for saving me. Looks like it’s calmed down.” He handed the customer staring warily at his earring assortment his change and a receipt. “And one makes five. Thank you, come again.”
Angela brushed a grain of chocolate off his shirt and headed for the back. “If you need me again let me know.”
“Yo, Angela.”
Angela turned around. Jack, holding a folder, looking uncharacteristically animated, came in. “Hey, Jack.”
“Got a minute?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” She beckoned to him. “Come on back.”
He followed her into her office, greeting a startled Alice with a hug and José with a high five and back slap.
Angela closed the door behind him. “What’s going on?”
�
�I had to show someone. Look at this.” He handed her a series of photographs.
Angela studied them. A woman. Long, dark hair, beautiful exotic features. Arms extended, leg lifted, she was dancing. Or doing Tai Chi?
“She’s beautiful.” More than beautiful. Radiant, with a soulful elegance that was hard to define. Impossible to look at her and not wonder who she was, where she came from, what she was thinking. “Captivating.”
“Yes. Yes.” He paced Angela’s office, which was so small, the pacing consisted of two steps in either direction. Either he was going to get dizzy or Angela was. “She’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” She handed the photographs back with a teasing smile. “Are congratulations in order?”
“A perfect model for the new series.”
Angela frowned. “This is the girl next door?”
“No. No.” Jack stopped pacing, thank goodness, and pushed his hand through his hair. Angela had never seen him this worked up. “I’ve redefined the whole series. She made me see it in an entirely new way.”
“Wow. Jack, this is great.” Angela was mystified. Jack hadn’t ever shared work stuff with her like this. Unless he was excited about this woman for personal reasons. Which wouldn’t be surprising given Jack’s history and the woman’s looks. “When do you start shooting the series?”
“Oh.” He looked uncomfortable. “I haven’t approached her with the idea yet.”
He hadn’t. “Who is she?”
“Uh.” He made a face. “I don’t know yet.”
“Huh?” Angela narrowed her eyes. “Have you actually spoken to this woman?”
“Not exactly.”
Angela gaped at him. “My God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before. Jack Shea is intimidated by a woman.”
“Ha!” He snorted. “Hardly.”
“Scares your balls tiny, does she?”
“Angela!” Jack cracked up in earnest, something he let himself do too rarely. “There are few things funnier than coarse language coming out of that sweet mouth of yours.”
“You’re changing the subject.” She handed the photos back to him. “What do you do, hide in the bushes and take pictures of her?”
“I jog through the park every morning. She’s there Monday, Wednesday and Friday, 8:00 a.m., like clockwork. This is the first time I had my camera with me.” He sat down on the second chair in her office, holding the pictures in his lap, gazing at them. “She defined what I wanted. She made it all clear. Everything about the project I’ve been waffling on for weeks came to life in a flash. No doubts, no hesitation. That’s when you know something is really right.”
If that were true, Angela was in trouble. She had doubts and hesitations about pretty much everything. “I’m thrilled for you, Jack.
“All that was missing was seeing how the camera would like her.”
“No problems there.”
“But now she matters.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “And if I approach her, a complete stranger who, yes, has been taking pictures of her from the bushes, figuratively, anyway, and ask her to model for me…”
Angela winced in sympathy, inwardly loving that mighty Jack was unsure how to handle a female. Probably the first time in his life. “Yeah, the creep factor would be high.”
“It’s funny, you can be so sure you’re on the right path, but sometimes instinct starts telling you you’re wrong. If you ignore that voice, you’re screwed. If you listen, Fate has a shot at showing you the direction you should have chosen from the beginning.” He shook his head, chuckling, face guarded. “I know, don’t tell me. I sound like a New Age wacko.”
“No, not at all.” Well, maybe a little. But his words had disturbed her for another reason.
They sat talking a few minutes longer, Angela trying to help him decide what to do, feeling more and more anxious and upset. She didn’t want to hear how a vision could turn out to be completely wrong. She didn’t want to hear that Paolo wasn’t interested in her pastry or that Marjorie thought it lacked passion.
Daniel was due in two hours; she wanted to hear that her dream was a big piece of chocolate-lavender éclair, already in the bag.
* * *
ANGELA HAD JUST emerged from her tiny trickle of a shower when the knock came on her door. Must be one of the gang. Daniel would have to buzz from the front of the building.
“Who’s there?”
“Pizza delivery.”
She broke into a grin. Daniel after all. Someone must have let him up. Of course she could give him a key to the building, so if he wanted to—
Yikes. Even as the idea gave her romantic side a thrill, her sensible side shut it down in a big hurry. Way too soon for that.
She yanked open the door and got a buzz of pleasure seeing his handsome face, blue eyes the color of the sky not a single Seattle resident had seen all week long, body in jeans and a Rise Against T-shirt, a pizza box balanced on one hand. “Hello, pizza boy. Mmm, hope it’s hot and good.”
“Well…” His eyes traveled down her towel-covered body. “Something else around here certainly is.”
Angela struck a pose. “See anything you like?”
“I think so. But I’ll need a closer look.” He backed her into her living room, colorful with cookbooks, art prints and bright rugs over hardwood floors, set the pizza on her coffee table and took her into his arms, kissed her deeply, over and over, until she was clinging to him, weak-kneed and breathless. “So far…I like everything.”
“Yes?”
“Except this.” He unwrapped the towel and let it drop, scanned her body leisurely. “Much better.”
“You think?”
He dropped suddenly to his knees, and before she could register what he was doing, his tongue was between her legs, tasting her. The shower had made her skin more sensitive, and the arousal was such that she swayed and grabbed at his shoulder. He responded by gathering her firmly in his arms, head making a lazy circle as he licked her.
“Daniel.” Her eyes were practically rolling back in her head.
“Mmm?”
“Bedroom?”
“Later.”
She moaned and lowered to give him better access as he slid a finger up inside her, then followed her crevice to the back, where he painted a slow circle in a place she’d never been touched before.
Oh, my. “That is… Oh. Daniel.”
“You like that?” he whispered.
“Yes. Yes.”
The pressure continued, his mouth explored more boldly, his lips manipulating her clitoris until she felt the climax building, holding her thigh muscles so tight they were trembling. With a sudden furious burst she exploded into orgasm, collapsing over him as the wave swept through her, his strong arms stopping her fall.
He let her come down, one gentle tongue sweep at a time, then kissed her inner thighs, her curls, her abdomen, long lovely farewell kisses, before he stood. And made Angela shriek.
She’d been a limp, ecstatic dishrag draped over him. Now, suddenly she was in a neat fireman’s carry, giggling madly on the way to her—
“Bedroom. Now.” He made a very respectable caveman. She liked that about him. Especially when he dumped her rather carelessly onto her blue-and-white bedspread, took his clothes off, rolled on a condom at the speed of sound and lunged over her.
Oh, she loved his skin on hers, loved the masculine weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. Her legs opened eagerly under him; she was plenty wet and he slid in easily, dug his arms under her and continued his caveman assault with no pretense at finesse.
Cavemen, as Angela was rapidly finding out, really turned her on. There was something wildly exciting about the forceful, urgent way Daniel was riding her. She responded automatically, letting out a hoarse cry, bucking against him, determinedly holding onto the last piece of her sanity this time, to keep her from the abyss that had nearly swallowed her at his place.
Daniel thrust a final time, body tight, face contorted in bliss as his climax swept
through him. She loved watching this man come; his ecstasy sent an intense sexual thrill through her, almost as if she were climaxing again herself.
“Angela.” He was still breathing hard, blue eyes seeming to glow out of his face. “That was…mmm.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She smiled tenderly, lifted her head for another long, lovely series of kisses that made the familiar ache start in her chest. Was he feeling it, too?
It didn’t matter. Angela would concentrate on staying whole, and staying happy. Right now she was both.
Daniel pulled out, to their simultaneous sounds of regret, disposed of the condom and wrapped strong arms tightly around her, stroking her arm, her hip, making her feel like a cat in the sun. “How was your day?”
“Good. Busy.” She yawned and stretched against him. Meo-ow. “The counter went crazy a couple of hours before closing.”
She told him about Marjorie and then about Paolo, about his awkward indecision, about his huge order and, giggling, about her dominatrix-girlfriend theory.
Except Daniel didn’t seem to be laughing too hard. In fact, he wasn’t laughing at all. “That was my roommate.”
“Your—” She gaped at him. “But…does he know I’m me?”
“He does.”
His grim reaction surprised her. “Daniel, I’m sorry I made fun of him. It wasn’t a real insult to him, just a game of—”
“Yeah, I got that. It’s fine.”
Something still wasn’t right. “Why was he staring at me like that? Is he shy?”
“Jake?” Daniel laughed in a way that made it clear shyness was not one of Jake’s dominant qualities.
“Then why didn’t he introduce himself?”
Daniel swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk about today.”
Oh. She moved away from him, partly to focus better on his face, and partly because a self-protective instinct told her to, though she kept her hand firmly planted on his chest.
“Larry didn’t go for the pastries.”
“Ah.” She nodded through a quick hot rush of disappointment. “Not entirely unexpected. His niece?”
Daniel looked at her as if he were weighing his next words. “His niece, yes. But I think he also felt…well, what he said, was that yours weren’t special enough.”
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