A Moment of Bliss

by Heather McGovern

  “Can you blame us? Look at these.” He stood next to her, close enough that their arms bumped together.

  Along the prep table, normally used by the sous chef, Wright had lined up five single-layer, round cakes. He wiped his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder. “I hope you guys like them.”

  “I’m sure we will.” Sophie elbowed him before pointing to the first one. “Are both of those chocolate? Because I’m here for the chocolate.”

  Wright went down the line of cakes, pointing at each. “I put them in the order they should be tried, for the palate. I didn’t bother with traditional wedding cake, since that was eighty-sixed from the start. This first one is caramel cake, next is hummingbird cake with cream cheese frosting, then just a few layers of the mile-high vanilla and chocolate cake, and finally bourbon chocolate cake with brown sugar and caramel frosting.”

  “That last one already has my vote.” Sophie wiggled her fingers as Wright sliced a small piece from the first cake and placed it on one of their fine-dining plates.

  “For the full effect,” he explained.

  They each got a plate and tried the first cake at the same time. A chorus of “mmm” and “yum” filled the air. Madison looked over at Roark as she chewed. She leaned in to whisper, her breasts brushing his upper arm. “How are we going to choose if they’re all amazing?”

  He’d be satisfied taste-testing the rest of the day and drawing out any decisions, if it meant cake on his plate and Madison pressed against him.

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”

  Next up was the hummingbird cake; fruity, nutty, and creamy. They had a few bites of each until they’d tried them all. Roark was twice as high as the sky on a sugar rush, and firmly in the hummingbird-cake camp.

  “Yep. I’m sticking with my vote for the bourbon and chocolate,” Sophie offered, finishing off her slice.

  Madison looked over the cakes, still picking at the hummingbird. She waved her empty fork in the air. “The bourbon and chocolate is my favorite too, but it’s so rich for an entire cake. I like the caramel, but I’m afraid it would be too . . .”

  “Boring?” Sophie ate another bite of chocolate.

  “Yes.”

  Roark put his plate and fork down with a clang of finality. “The hummingbird cake. That is your wedding cake. It’s delicious, textured, known as a Southern treat . . . it’s the obvious choice if you want something memorable.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with him.” Devlin licked his fork clean. “The hummingbird cake is so good, makes you want to smack somebody.”

  Sophie paused with her fork on the way to her mouth. “Y’all would think that. Guys don’t know cake.”

  “A guy baked these cakes!” Dev laughed and poked her full cheek.

  She flicked a bit of frosting at him in retaliation.

  “Guys,” Roark said, calling them down. It’d been so long since Roark heard his brother laugh, he’d forgotten the sound, but they needed to concentrate on making a decision.

  Madison leaned over to look at Devlin. “You make a good point though. Wright is the creator. Wright, which do you think is the best choice for a wedding cake?”

  Wright studied all of the cakes before glancing at Sophie. “I tend to agree with Roark and Dev. You can’t go wrong with a hummingbird cake. It’s a crowd pleaser.”

  “Told you.” Roark smiled at Madison, full of pride at his choice.

  Sophie set her plate down. “But I don’t like nuts in my cake.”

  Dev chuckled, so she dug him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Or what if someone has a nut allergy?” Madison tapped her fork against her lips.

  “You could have both,” Roark suggested. “Have hummingbird as the main cake and do the chocolate bourbon as a groom’s cake. No nuts.”

  “That’s a lot of work to put on Wright. He’ll have enough to do as it is. I’m not sure two wedding cakes—”

  “I don’t mind,” Wright insisted.

  “Yeah, and besides, I usually help with events and catering.” Sophie eyeballed the chocolate cake. “If it means having chocolate cake at the reception, I’ll work overtime.”

  Madison worried at the inside of her cheek, sucking it in. “You don’t think the two will clash? Maybe it’s too much cake.”

  Sophie shook her head. “That sentence doesn’t even make sense. Too much cake?”

  Roark looked at the hummingbird and chocolate bourbon cakes beside each other. “I think they’ll complement one another, in looks at least. Try tasting them, one right after the other.”

  Madison stared down at her empty plate. “I ate all of my chocolate.”

  “Here.” Roark picked up his plate, still containing most of his slice. He cut off a bit with his fork, making sure to get the proper cake-to-icing ratio. “Try a bite of your hummingbird again, and then try my chocolate.”

  Madison cut off a bite of the hummingbird cake and tried it.

  “Now, this one.” Roark held out his fork.

  Madison opened her mouth and he slipped the bite of cake between her lips. She smiled as she chewed, her eyes closed and her chin tilted back.

  A vivid memory of her unfurled before him, from their run: her head tilted back, eyes closed before she met his gaze, tiny moans of pleasure, and then she cried out with her climax.

  Roark cleared his throat and put his fork down. Between the sugar rush and erotic thoughts of Madison, he was going to need another run or a cold shower, or this could get embarrassing.

  She finished chewing and opened her eyes with a sigh. “They’re delicious together. Rich, yes, but these cakes say unique, a one-of-a-kind wedding. You’re right. It’s so annoying.”

  Roark smiled, reaching for her and touching her arm before he realized what he was doing. He dropped his hand and glanced around; the rest of the kitchen had gone silent. Three sets of eyes homed in on him and Madison.

  “Okay.” Sophie smiled, gazing over at them. “I vote for both. Two cakes are always better than one, anyway.”

  Wright slapped his hands together and picked up the dirty plates. “Perfect. I’ll do three tiers of hummingbird and a double tier for the groom cake. Anybody want more before I wrap them up?”

  Everyone groaned, but Sophie nabbed what was left of Roark’s chocolate cake before Wright could get it. “Dev and I will help clean up.” She winked at Roark. “I’m sure you and Madison have stuff to take care of.”

  Once they were outside of the kitchen and alone, walking toward his office, he leaned into Madison. “She definitely knows.”

  “I told you.”

  He opened his mouth to say he’d make sure she didn’t get the wrong idea about what it meant, but he clamped his lips shut. “I have a serious sugar high right now,” he said instead.

  “I feel like a slice of cake with two legs. Two sugar encrusted legs.”

  “I’m not sure if that was supposed to turn me on, but it kind of is.”

  Madison bumped his arm. “No. I mean, I’m a walking sugar rush. What would you say your blood-sugar level is right now? Five hundred?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Roark turned to her, making his eyes as wide as he could.

  Her laugh washed over him, making him even giddier, riding high on the sweet wave. Then, brilliance struck.

  “You know what would help burn off a sugar high?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe. But I don’t think I’m capable of either right at this moment. Especially not running. The other . . . maybe later?”

  “I wasn’t going to say run.”

  The smile that crept across her face was a delight. “Do not say the other right now, because I’m too—”

  “We should go swimming.”

  Madison blanched. “You should have your head checked. It’s barely seventy outside.”

  “It’s seventy-five degrees. Midday September is still warm. Indian summer. It’s supposed to be almost eighty on Friday.”

&nbs
p; She shivered, even though they were in the cozy reception area. “But it’s down in the fifties at night.”

  “This wouldn’t even be a polar plunge, and those are good for you. Healthy. You’re a runner. Come on.”

  “Yeah, but . . . cold. And I don’t have a suit.”

  Roark arched an eyebrow. “Who said you needed a suit?”

  With a giggle, she pinched her lips together, but she was giving him a yes or no answer.

  “Unless you’re too chicken to try it.”

  She lowered her chin, giving him that glare. “I bet you used the chicken challenge all the time growing up, didn’t you?”

  “Some.” He’d used it on his brothers all the time. It always worked on Dev, never on Trevor, but it was worth a shot on Madison. As competitive as she was, a challenge didn’t exist that she’d be called too chicken to try.

  Madison looked around the great room, and then glared back at him, her mouth set. “I’m not going anywhere near water without four or five towels and blankets. And a heat source.”

  He grinned, even as inner doubt niggled. This was a lot of trouble to go through for something that wasn’t a “thing.” They didn’t have to go swimming together. They didn’t have to do anything together, and yet here he was, working to convince her that spending more time with each other was a good idea.

  “Don’t grin at me like you’ve won this battle. I haven’t said yes yet.”

  “I can tell Sophie we’ve gone to . . .”

  “Meet with Brenda, the florist, in town?”

  “Yes.” He snapped and pointed at her. “Good one. So, that’s a yes?”

  “No.”

  No was probably the smart option here. They should each take care of their ever growing list of responsibilities and spend all afternoon neck-deep in work. If they happened to fall into bed again later tonight, great. If not, that would have to be fine too. It shouldn’t matter.

  This was all going to come grinding to a halt soon. Why go through the trouble of a little day trip away, even if it did hold the possibility of some amazing outdoor sex? In the end, what was the point?

  Madison glanced around again, chewing at the corner of her mouth. She was thinking about it.

  Roark let another cluck build, low in his throat, before taunting her with chicken noises. There might not be any point to taking her away and spending a little extra alone-time with her, but he was still going to try his damnedest to do it anyway.

  Madison clamped her hand over his mouth. “We’re going skinny-dipping, just to shut you up.”

  He grinned behind her fingers. “I’ll meet you at my car in fifteen minutes.”

  “Ten. And I’ll meet you at my car.”

  “I’ve seen your car. There’s no way it’ll make it. We’ll take my truck.”

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  “But you can drive.”

  Madison eased her mouth closed and dropped her hand. “Deal.”

  Screw worrying about putting too much into this “not a thing” thing they were doing. So what if Madison would be gone in a week and half? That gave him more reason to soak up every moment now. If this was all going to end soon, he’d enjoy every bit of it while he could.

  Chapter 17

  She hoped she looked patient, waiting outside by Roark’s truck, because she sure didn’t feel it. Inside she simmered with the need to know where he was taking her, but more than that, why she’d agreed to go.

  This wasn’t her. Madison Kline did not go skinny-dipping, period, much less with a business acquaintance, in the middle of the day, in September.

  It’d been over a decade since she’d gone swimming with a guy. At the time, it’d struck her as romantic. She’d thought it was love, but she was nineteen and still stupid as hell. Look where believing in love had gotten her. Once again, she’d been left, all alone in the world, nowhere to call home and no one to call . . . well, just plain no one to call.

  This swimming trip was not romantic. It’d be fun and sexy and that’s it. Even though it shouldn’t be happening at all. Acting like a teenager again, giddy at the prospect of running off for a couple of hours together. She had work to do, and for her most important clients to date. What the hell was she thinking?

  “You ready?” Roark strolled up beside her.

  No. She was in no way ready for any of this. “I’m driving.” She held out her hand for the keys.

  Roark climbed into the passenger side of his big, black truck while she pulled herself into the driver’s seat. A huge, olive-colored duffel sat between them.

  “What’s all that? Besides the requested towels.” She nodded to the bag and started the truck.

  “Some stuff. Don’t worry about it. We’re going to take a right out of the parking lot and head down the mountain.”

  Madison gave the mysterious bag and the bag’s owner another look before backing out. “Dear god we’re up high. Do you drive over other cars on a daily basis or is it a weekend hobby?”

  “My truck isn’t that high. You’re used to sitting on the ground in your itty bitty sports car.”

  “I do not sit on the ground. I drive a normal car.”

  “Ha!”

  She kept both hands on the wheel but turned her chin enough to glare at him. “What do you mean, ha?”

  “You drive a convertible that tops out at over two hundred miles per hour. It’s not a normal car.”

  “Normal for me then.” Madison turned right and drove them down the mountain. She could do this. A little time away near the end of the day didn’t mean there were any new expectations or added pressures between them. They’d be swimming, for crying out loud, and she was making something out of nothing.

  The only real issue was taking the time away from work.

  “I have about a million things left to do before I can call it a day.” She came right out and said it.

  “I know. Me too.”

  “Taking an hour off to go swimming isn’t a good use of our time.”

  Roark shifted in his seat to look at her, his arm slung over the back of her seat. “Then I guess we’ll have to make good use of our time.”

  She caught the mischievous look on his face. “In an hour? I was with you last night, remember? There won’t be time to swim and—”

  “Get frisky al fresco?”

  She tossed her had back and laughed. “You’re a nut.”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t get it though. You like a good laugh, you obviously enjoy joking around, but you glare at your family if they cut up too much. Why don’t you ever lighten up around them?”

  Roark shrugged again. “I do sometimes, but when we’re working, we’re working. Joking is for later.”

  “But they’re your family and aren’t you always working? No one is going to judge you for joking around with them.”

  “I know, but . . . it’s complicated.”

  “Must be. Since you think Trevor’s irresponsible for taking a sabbatical in Peru, yet you’re blowing off work, midday, to participate in an arguably illegal activity?”

  “Kind of sounds like you’re judging me,” he quipped.

  And maybe she was, but she didn’t look down on him for being serious. She merely liked seeing the happy, freer side of him as well. She bet his family would too.

  “Okay, first of all, Trevor took off to Peru months ago, with no indication of when he’ll be back, if he’ll be back, why he was going, or where else he’s going. We haven’t heard a word from him. He could be dead on the side of the road, and what can I do to help him way over here? Not a damn thing.”

  She glanced over. “Who says you have to help him?”

  “You’re kidding, right? With Trev, he’ll need someone to bail him out of whatever he gets into, and who else is there?”

  Roark sounded like a mother hen. His agitation about Trevor was from worry. He cared about his youngest brother and didn’t like that he was off somewhere outside of Roark’s reach.

  She cou
ldn’t imagine having anyone worry about her like that. Her mother never worried about her when she was kid; forget fussing over her well-being as an adult. She’d showed Madison the door at eighteen and that was it from mommy dearest.

  “Plus, there was no purpose to Trevor’s trip.” Roark lifted his hand and let it flop back down on the headrest. “He went for the hell of going. Our little day trip here will take all of a couple of hours and I know the purpose. I have a goal. That makes it a whole different ball game.”

  “You have a goal?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And that is?”

  He tapped his fingers on the driver seat. “I told you last night. Seducing you. I thought that part was self-explanatory.”

  She chewed on her smile. “That’s what this is?”

  He lifted his hand toward the road. “These are my keen skills of seduction. Take you off somewhere secluded and we both get naked. The chance of sex increases exponentially. Are you not swooning already?”

  Her laughter filled the truck’s cab. “Oh, I’m mid-swoon right now.”

  “Take a left at this stop sign.” Roark pointed ahead. “And yes, I’d be annoyed as all get-out if Devlin took off for the afternoon and didn’t tell me where he was going, but the difference is, I get all my shit done. No matter what, I do my job. Dev? Eh. It depends.”

  Madison flicked the turn signal and slowed to a stop. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to say anything. To say something meant learning even more about Roark and who he was. Learning more about him would lead to liking him even more. But noticing a thing and not stating her opinion on the thing was not her style. “Then you’re aware you’re pretty tough on your siblings?”

  Roark worked his jaw and pointed left. She took the turn but waited silently for the next mile or so. He could try to dodge her observation, but try was all he’d do. She’d sit quietly if that’s what it took for him to answer.

  “I’m aware,” he finally said into the silence.

  She kept her mouth shut, having learned long ago that if you wanted people to tell you something, the best thing you could do was shut up.

  He sighed and shifted in his seat. “I guess old habits are hard to break. I don’t know. Veer right up here.”