by Jennie Marts
“Because he’s my brother. And I love him. And it’s what I do. I can always make more money. But he’s the only brother I’ve got. And he’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s a great guy. Charming and funny and sweet, most of the time. He just gets drunk and loud, and sometimes I think he likes to fight.”
“Sometimes I think I like to fight, too.”
Somehow she didn’t have any trouble believing that to be true. “Is that what got you into trouble tonight?”
He laughed. “Yeah. You could say that. And because I’m an idiot.” His laughter faded, and he sighed. He pushed himself up, supporting himself with his arm and bringing his face within inches of hers. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about you. What’s your name, angel?”
His face was close enough to smell the hint of whiskey on his breath, but she was too captured by the crystal blue color of his eyes to pay attention. She swallowed. “Gabby Davis.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Owen.” He grinned, and her insides did another funny flip. Sliding his finger through a spot of frosting she’d failed to wipe away, he glanced at her before licking the chocolate into his mouth. “So tell me, Gabby Davis, why are you covered in amazing tasting chocolate frosting?”
“Because someone bumped into me and smashed a platter of cupcakes against my chest.”
“I love cupcakes.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he somehow made the simple statement sound sexy.
She tried not to look at his lips. “I do, too. So much so that I have my own cupcake shop. It’s called Simply Sweet.”
He smiled. “Simply Sweet? I like it. That’s cool. It seems right for you. Do you make anything besides cupcakes?”
“I make all sorts of delicious desserts.”
A naughty grin curved his lips. “How delicious?”
She couldn’t help it—she smiled back—and let herself enjoy the easy flirting.
This was the most fun she’d had all night. Heck, probably the most fun she’d had all month. She spent so much of her time focused on work that she didn’t have time for things like flirting or dating. Or actually having a life.
So what if she let herself enjoy the drunken attention of a crazy-hot hunk for a few minutes? His brother would be here soon, and she’d never see the guy again. Why not enjoy the surreal moment and have a little fun?
She grinned at him, brazenly lifting a tiny dab of chocolate to her lips, and lowering her voice to a sultry level. “So delicious that they melt in your mouth and can bring a grown man to his knees.”
He laughed again. But this time it was a husky laugh, soft and full of playfulness. Leaning closer, he lifted his free hand and gently swiped at the bottom of her lip with the side of his thumb. “You’ve already brought me to my knees, Gabby Davis, and all you had to do was smile.”
She swallowed, unable to breathe, unable to think. Lost in his eyes, in the closeness of his body to hers, lost in the moment. He was just some guy. Some guy that she’d just met and would probably never see again.
So why did this moment feel like it could really mean something? Like instead of just looking into her eyes, he was looking into her soul—and actually seeing her. The real her—the dreamer. The one who still listened to sentimental love songs and cried at sappy chick flicks. Who believed in romance and love at first sight.
With the slightest shift, his face was just a fraction of an inch closer, his lips a whisper away from hers. “Do you taste as good as you look?”
Frozen—she held her breath—afraid to move. The scent of chocolate mixing with his masculine aftershave swirled around her as if casting a spell. A spell of lust and spontaneity and the power to ignore every single bit of reasoning that told her not to let the guy she just met in the women’s restroom kiss her. The incredibly gorgeous guy with the ice-blue eyes that held a mixture of charm and sorrow.
The spell must have worked, because he leaned in, his lips grazing hers, and instead of using her standard Gabby Davis practical logic, she closed her eyes and kissed him back. And oh, Lord in Heaven—what a kiss.
His lips were soft but demanding as he took her mouth—teasing and savoring. He tasted like whiskey and chocolate, and she sank into the kiss, enjoying the delicious tingling of desire that shot through her body.
The scruff of his whiskers brushed her skin as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Heat coursed through her, and she reached up, digging her fingers into his messy blond hair.
His arm tightened around her waist, and she felt his strength as he pulled her closer. Everything about him was solid and hard and so utterly masculine. She felt powerless—swept up in his embrace as his lips continued to tease and tantalize her mouth.
A soft moan escaped her as his free hand cupped her cheek then slid across her ear and tangled in her hair.
A knock on the door broke the spell, startling them both, and they split apart.
Gabby tried to catch her breath as the door opened and another tall, insanely gorgeous man walked into the bathroom. He was obviously Owen’s brother; the resemblance was evident except Bane’s hair was black compared to Owen’s blond.
They had similarities, but were light and dark shades of each other—the same strong muscular build—the same sturdy jaw line. Except Bane’s was now set in anger as he approached his brother and knelt on the floor. “Damn it, Owen. What kind of mess did you get yourself into this time?”
Owen grinned up at his brother. “A delicious chocolate one.” He jerked a thumb at Gabby. “This is Gabby. She makes cupcakes, and I’m pretty sure she might be an angel.”
Bane offered her a smile. A smile filled with the same easy charm as his brother’s. “Thank you, Gabby-who-might-be-an-angel.”
“Seriously, she smells like chocolate,” Owen told him, his voice slurring a little.
“You smell like booze. How much did you have?”
“I don’t know. I stopped counting.”
“You know you’re not supposed to be drinking.”
Gabby looked from Owen to his brother. Why was he not supposed to be drinking? Was Owen an alcoholic? An addict like her brother? Was Bane actually the dark counterpart to her—the one who always showed up and carted their drunk sibling home?
Bane shoved his hands under Owen’s arms and pulled him up. “All right, let’s get you out of here. And hope no one sees you. We don’t need any more trouble.”
What kind of trouble had Owen caused? She wished she could ask, but she didn’t want to pry. If anyone knew anything about family secrets, it was her. And she didn’t want to cause Owen, or his brother, any more embarrassment.
She stood up, brushing the remains of the dried frosting from her chest. She could only imagine what a mess she must look like to Bane—frosting smeared across her wrinkled front, kiss-bruised lips, and unruly hair that only moments before had been tangled in Owen’s large hands.
Owen leaned against him, throwing his arms around his brother in a bear hug. “I’m sorry, Bane. I know I screwed up. It was all my fault.”
Bane clapped him on the back as brothers tended to do. “It’s all right, buddy. We’ll figure it out later. Let’s get you out of here.” He glanced at Gabby. “Thanks. I appreciate you calling me.”
“Of course. Do you need my help getting him to your car?”
“No, thanks, I’ve got him.” He lowered his voice. “I hope we can count on your discretion though. I’m sure you can understand why we’d prefer to keep this incident quiet.”
Um…no, she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand a single dang thing about this whole night. She didn’t understand how her brother had ended up in jail again, and she sure as heck didn’t understand how she ended up making out with a gorgeous mystery man on the floor of a hotel restroom.
Who was this guy? It didn’t matter. She was sure she’d never see him again.
She smiled up at Bane. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t be telling anyone about this.” Except maybe her journal. Dear Diary—tonight I kissed a r
idiculously hot guy with huge muscles who tasted like whiskey and chocolate, and now I will never see him again. Awesome night.
“Thanks, Gabby.” Bane pulled open the door of the restroom and checked the hall. “Neither of us need any more bad publicity right now.”
Owen hung his head in shame. “Yeah—the Bannister boys don’t need any more bad press. They’ve got enough, thanks to me.” He looked up at her and offered her a lopsided grin. “Thanks, angel. I might be piss drunk, but I won’t forget tonight.”
A flush of heat crept up her cheeks, and she gave them a little wave. “I won’t either. Bye, Owen.”
“Okay, the coast is clear. We gotta go while the hall is empty.” Bane gave her another charming grin. “Thanks again for calling me, and we really do appreciate you keeping this out of the press.”
They slipped out the door, and Gabby leaned against the sink. She wouldn’t have any problem keeping this out of the press. First of all, she had no idea who either of those guys were and secondly she had no idea how to even get something in to the press.
She wished she did.
Then maybe she could get her own business into the press and not have to scrimp and save another two thousand dollars for advertising.
Spying her lost elastic band on the corner of the counter, she grabbed it and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She sighed, letting go of the bizarre events of the last half an hour and thinking about the busy night she still had ahead of her, cleaning up after the party and bailing her little brother out.
The brother who made her laugh, made her crazy and had always told her to be careful what you wish for.
Chapter Two
A bolt of pain shot through his head at the sound of the crack as Owen drew his stick across the ice and shot the puck at the goal. And missed.
Figured.
This was how his whole morning had gone.
He thought punishing himself by hitting the ice and getting in an extra practice would be good penance for his actions of the night before. But only a few guys from the team were skating this morning and being in the hockey rink wasn’t working its usual magic.
All it was doing was making his hangover worse and contributing to his overall grouchiness.
He’d woken up with a pounding headache and dried frosting clumped in his hair. Rolling out of bed, he’d groaned at the memory of what a fool he’d made of himself the night before.
It wasn’t all completely clear, but he had vague memories of being dragged into the women’s restroom by a blonde named Brittany—or was it Bridget?—didn’t matter—he’d never see her again. She was expecting a party, but all he’d felt like was a party pooper. Which was unusual for him.
He just wasn’t interested in what she had to offer—which was also unusual. Because she had plenty to offer.
But last night, the only party he’d been interested in was a pity party—for himself. All he’d wanted to do was drown his sorrows with too many shots and try to forget the last few days.
The last few days when he’d screwed everything up. For himself. And his brother.
He didn’t drink very often. The sport—and his coach—didn’t put up with excessive drinking or partying. And he’d been taking pretty good care of himself lately, eating clean, working out more, and keeping the parties and the alcohol in check.
Until last night.
Although it could have been worse. He could have done more damage if Bane hadn’t shown up and gotten him home. As the oldest brother, Bane had always been there when he got into trouble—which was often.
But now—thanks to him—Bane wouldn’t be around anymore to get him out of scrapes or even to just go grab a beer with.
He cursed his own stupidity again as he skated off the ice. He needed a hard workout and a shower. Then he needed to begin to make amends for his actions the night before.
Bane would be easy. He could take him a pizza, and Bane would forgive him for getting his butt out of bed in the middle of the night to drag him home.
But his second task might be a little harder.
He might not remember everything about the night before, but he remembered the woman who had helped him. His angel. The one who was responsible for the frosting behind his ear. The one who smelled like chocolate and had a halo of long, toffee-colored, curly hair.
The one who looked like an angel but had devilish thoughts running through his head.
And the one he’d kissed.
That part of the evening he remembered.
And in clear detail. Clear, mind-blowing, hot-as-hell detail.
He didn’t know what in the heck had possessed him to kiss her. And he didn’t know why kissing her had seemed different. Special.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t kissed random women that he’d just met before. That was kind of his M.O. And he was sure that was what Bridget/Brittany was expecting last night.
But kissing Gabby was different. She was different.
Even in the brief time he’d spent with her, he knew she was different than the usual Barbies that threw themselves at him whenever he went out. The ones who were interested in being seen on the arm of a NHL player and hoping to get their picture in the press.
Gabby hadn’t thrown herself at him at all. Not even a small toss.
In fact, she’d acted like she had no idea who he was. Like she hadn’t seen all the recent articles about his reckless behavior—the philandering, the womanizing, and the way he carelessly spent money.
She’d treated him like he was just a regular guy. Had taken care of him without acting like he was a celebrity—which he wasn’t. He was just a jock who happened to be fairly good at the sport that he loved.
But she’d acted like she’d never heard of him. Which was surprisingly nice. To be treated like a regular guy. Albeit a drunk regular guy who was making a fool of himself.
He cringed as he recalled eating the frosting that he’d swiped off her chest. Which sounded much sexier than it really had been. He’d swiped it off the front of her shirt. Okay—it had been a little sexy. Especially when she’d licked that dab of chocolate off the end of her finger.
She had great lips. And amazing hair. And she’d been sweet too—and not just the frosting on her chest. She’d seemed like a genuinely nice person.
Too bad he was too drunk to make a good impression. She probably didn’t treat him like anything special because he hadn’t been special to her. She’d said she had to take care of her brother a lot. Maybe she just saw him as another idiot guy that couldn’t hold his liquor.
But that kiss had been special.
And he was sure she’d felt that too.
He’d remembered the name of the bakery—Simply Sweet—and looked up the address. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but he knew the area located in a suburb of Denver, and it was full of hard-working middle-class businesses. The kind of businesses that got by, did well enough to pay the bills, and had the respect and support of the neighborhood.
She’d seemed like one of those hard-working types of people. Her shop had good reviews and was rated highly in customer service and good product.
He already knew she made great frosting. And she tasted like chocolate. And smelled like vanilla. Geez, now he didn’t know if he wanted to make out with her again or just have her bake him a cake. Or both.
Yeah, it was probably both.
He pushed open the door of the locker room. She probably wouldn’t do either of those things with the impression he’d left on her last night. Not if she saw him as a playboy lush.
He needed to thank her for her help and her discretion the night before, then find a way to strengthen her opinion of him, to make a better impression this time around. He pulled off his glove and tossed it in his locker.
First he needed to find her.
***
Gabby raced through the living area of her apartment as she threw together the things she would need for the day.
It was Sunday, so the bakery was closed
, but she’d taken a big order for cupcakes and needed to use the kitchen to fill the order.
Plus, she wanted to get them finished this morning so she’d have time to take out the treat truck that afternoon and hopefully capitalize on the after-church crowd who typically purchased cupcakes to take home for dessert.
Her apartment was a little dated, but had the benefit of being located above the bakery so she didn’t have much of a commute to work and could use the bakery’s commercial-sized kitchen whenever she wanted. What it lacked in modern conveniences, it made up for by its location and the cheap rent. And really, dishwashers were overrated anyway.
Thor, her small Terrier-Chihuahua mix sat on the couch, his attention divided between her frantic movements and the images on the television she’d turned on to catch the day’s weather report. Thor’s furry brown head bobbed back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match.
She grabbed the box of cupcake wrappers that had been delivered yesterday, then stopped in her tracks as she heard the news anchor say a familiar name.
Snatching up the remote control, she turned up the volume and sank to the sofa as an image of the couple that had stumbled into the restroom the night before appeared on the screen.
Owen and Bridget, or Brittany—now she couldn’t remember which it was—were shown laughing in the club at The Crown Hotel, the table in front of them littered with empty shot glasses and a silver ice bucket holding a bottle of alcohol.
“Owen Bannister appears to be at it again,” the sportscaster said. “The Colorado Summit defenseman seems to be creating havoc this week both on and off the ice.”
The Colorado Summit? The National Hockey League team? He was a hockey player? That would explain his ridiculously muscled physique. But she didn’t think hockey players really had to worry that much about the press.
Apparently she was wrong.
“Owen, along with his brother Bane, make up the team’s scrappy defense, and fans have affectionately dubbed them the Brawling Bannisters,” the sportscaster continued. “But there’s not a lot of affection for them this week as it seems that one half of the pair is causing chaos on and off of the rink. Owen was spotted downtown last night throwing back drinks instead of punches. Buying drinks for the bar, he appeared to be celebrating instead of grieving the destruction of the dynamic duo. In fact, some would even call his behavior disorderly conduct.”