by Jo Raven
“I’ll walk you out.” Wiping my hands on a towel, I hurried to her side. Tonight, I was in a rush, and her slow and measured steps pushed the boundaries of my patience.
“I knew the original owner of this building,” she informed me as we made our way slowly past the register.
“Did you?”
“Oh, yes. He was one of the first merchants on this block. A handsome devil too, that one. Very popular with the women.”
“What did he sell?”
“Shoes.” She laughed softly to herself. “I’m sure he was responsible for a lot of empty wallets.”
I bet. I feigned interest as best I could as we reached the exit. “How did you two know each other?”
Clear gray-blue eyes peered up at me from beneath heavy eyelids, and I realized that, despite how many days she had marked off on the calendar or the age showing through the wrinkles in her face, this woman was anything but frail or elderly. “A story for another time, hmm? Thank you again for allowing me to use the restroom.”
I nodded, smiling as I watched her go, and then closed up behind her, flipping the sign on the door to closed.
Hurrying back to the kitchen, I rushed through the last of the cookie batter that still needed to make it into the oven, scooping tablespoon-sized mounds from the mixing bowl and dropping them onto a cookie sheet. They were double the size I normally made them, but to hell with it. According to the clock, I had exactly twenty-two minutes and ten seconds to wrap it up and shut it down, and the cookies would take up about half of that.
I was doomed. Doomed!
Dinner at Amy’s had resulted in an unexpected event: Ken asked me out on a date. That was five nights ago. My first real date in months—okay, years—and I was running behind.
Since Ken’s shift at the station ended at eight, we agreed that he would meet me at the bakery. For the sake of desperate women everywhere, I was closing early, but that didn’t save me from having to prepare some of the goods I would need upon opening Saturday morning. During today’s morning and afternoon lulls, I had whipped up batter for marbled cupcakes, cheesecake brownie bites, scones, banana nut muffins, and was now finishing up the chocolate chip cookies. It had been a busy week, and if this pattern of business continued, I didn’t want to risk falling behind.
Ken said to dress warm and comfortable. Having brought a change of clothes with me, I quickly stripped down in the attached half bath located in the back and stepped into a fresh pair of jeans and my favorite Got Chocolate? hoodie, all the while wondering where the heck he was taking me.
It was precisely three minutes until eight when I heard the knock at the front door. Tapping the center of one of the cookies to test its firmness, I yanked the oven mitt back on and pulled the two trays out. Tossing them on the counter, I sprinted from the kitchen. “Coming!” I called.
Ken stood under the short awning surrounded by a blanket of night and illuminated only by the incandescent yellow street lights, waiting patiently with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. I slowed as I approached, trying not to appear too harried. Hot damn, he looked good. Dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans that hugged a pair of powerful-looking thighs, and a leather coat unzipped to reveal a thick black hoodie underneath with the word Walleye across the chest, he was too cute for words.
When he saw me coming, his face lit up and I felt a little twinge of excitement as he canvassed me with his eyes. I was on full display as I reached out to unlock the door. “Shit! One sec.” I cursed myself when my mitted hand fumbled with the locks. Tucking one hand under my arm, I tore the mitt off and smiled ruefully as I opened the door to let him in. “Sorry, mitten hands.”
“Casualty of the job,” Ken replied with a smirk. He caught me off guard when he leaned in, slipped an arm around my waist, and bent to kiss me on the cheek. “You look beautiful, and smell sweet, like sugar,” he commented, dipping his head to sniff my neck. Scenting Ken’s own unique blend of spice, musk, and smoky undertones, I nearly fainted. The man was delicious in every way. “Ready to head out?”
His quick transition allowed me to dodge the compliment. Turning away, I led him back toward the kitchen. “I just pulled some cookies out of the oven. Let me just get them put away and clean up a bit, then we can head out.”
Ken posted himself in the doorway and watched as I took a spatula to the trays, clearing the cookies and placing them into a container to be stored overnight. “Those look fantastic. They smell even better.”
I smiled. “Are you asking to sample my goods?”
I caught Ken’s moment of surprise. Yes, Kenny boy, I am naughty. What are you going to do about it? He straightened. “Are you offering?”
Assuming I wasn’t crazy or in need of glasses, the look Kennedy was giving me was jam-packed with sin. Even in the glaring overhead lights and standing five feet away, I could see that darkness in his blue eyes had intensified, like M&Ms melting in my mouth—smooth, rich, creamy, and decadent. Oh, hell, if I didn’t look away now, I was going to send myself straight into an orgasm.
I cleared my throat, searching for my voice. “Come on over and get some.” Right hand to God, I didn’t mean that to sound like another come on. Kennedy was smiling as he moved up behind me and reached around my shoulder to select one.
With his first bite, he moaned, and the deep, husky sound made my knees knock together. I could just imagine him in my bed, drawing the same noises from him as we got all sweaty and out of breath. Oh my. “I was right, these are fantastic.” Kennedy held out the half-eaten cookie. “Here, you have to try this. The chocolate chips are still melty.”
“I baked them, remember? I already know what they taste like.” Closing the container on the remaining cookies, I slid them into the pantry for tomorrow. When I turned back, Kennedy was watching me with a look on his face that I couldn’t describe. He took two slow steps, planting himself in front of me.
“I thought chefs are supposed to sample their food?”
“They are. Why do you think my thighs are so thick?” I patted them for proof. I wasn’t fat. I wasn’t even technically overweight, but it hadn’t always been the case, and I still had a little extra meat in places I would rather have none. I blamed sampling.
Touching the cookie to my lips, Kennedy said gruffly, “I like a little extra cushion on a woman.”
Holy Jesus on a pogo stick, my mind shot straight into the gutter. Kennedy’s crooked smile told me that he knew that I knew that he knew what he was doing, and he liked it. He liked setting me off-kilter. Unfortunately for him, I could give as well as get.
Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I held his eyes and watched them heat up as I parted my lips and took the cookie into my mouth, inch by inch, letting the melted chocolate coat my taste buds. My teeth sank into the tender dough and I moaned softly, letting my eyes slip closed as I tilted my head back and chewed. Eating, no matter what it was, could be made sexual, and since I enjoyed food in all its forms, I was a queen when it came to seduction.
Apparently, Kennedy thought so, too. “You, um…” He looked pain stricken as he watched my mouth move. “You have…” His finger inched up, and then stopped short, hesitating.
“Yes, Kennedy?” I asked huskily.
“You have chocolate on your lip.” His voice was rough, but quiet, like he was having a tough time getting the words out. I could tell he wanted to do something about it, but I beat him to the punch.
Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I ran my tongue over it, removing all traces of chocolate. “All gone?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled and he nodded.
“You were right, Ken, that cookie was fantastic.” I winked and stepped away. Mission accomplished. “Ready to go?”
Seeming to snap back to reality, Kennedy blinked hard and stepped back to allow me to pass. “Ladies first.”
As we stepped outside, Kennedy waited for me while I took a moment to lock up. Flipping the locks, I caught his reflection in the glass and realized that he was st
aring at me, watching my every move. It made me feel sexy, desired. I decided that it was my favorite feeling in the world. Clipping my keys to my belt loop, I turned and smiled as I stepped up beside him. “So, where are we headed? Dinner? Movie?”
Twining his fingers together with mine, Kennedy led me toward a sparkly clean white SUV with a monster crash bar mounted on the front. It was a beast, and the perfect complement to this brawny firefighter. The lights flashed and Kennedy opened the passenger door. “I had something a little more exciting in mind.”
I climbed in before looking at him. “Exciting? I hope you don’t mean the backseat of your car,” I said, hitching my thumb over my shoulder, “because I’m more of a back row of a theater type of girl.”
A wide grin erupted on his face and Kennedy shook his head. “I have a feeling you’re gonna be trouble,” he muttered, then shut the door. As he walked around the front, I caught the subtle movement as he reached down and adjusted himself. Well, it seemed I was getting to him. Score one for me!
***
When Kennedy said that he had something more exiting planned, I never would have guessed it would be this.
I flinched as a puck smashed into the partition, right in front of my face. Had it not been there, I would be dead. I was certain of it. Scarier still was the giant on razor blades streaking toward me, his face brutal in a way that would give me nightmares for weeks to come. And he wasn’t alone. Just as soon as he hooked the fallen puck, a man from the opposite team slammed into him from behind. Their bodies crashed into the partition, rattling it. I watched in abject horror as his face was plastered to the plastic, blood smearing everywhere. I think I just witnessed my first broken nose.
“So, you’re a hockey fan?” I asked Kennedy, although by the elated look he wore and the way he roared aggressively in response to the fight that was currently breaking out on the ice below, it was a question that pretty much answered itself.
Dropping back into his seat, his face flushed from the adrenalin, Kennedy looked at me. “You’re not?” He asked this as if everyone was and if I said no, I would be the crazy person. Maybe I was. Sitting in a roomful of people screaming for blood and mayhem like it was their religion seemed a little on the crazy side if you asked me.
Reaching across his lap, I picked out a soggy nacho cheese covered tortilla chip. “I’m not really into sports.” Kennedy’s expression was one for the scrapbook. If I had one.
So many emotions passed over him—shock, disbelief, realization, and then determination. “It’s okay, we’ll work on it.” Picking up a chip that covered his fingers in cheese, he popped it into his mouth and winked at me. I realized two things in that moment. One: Dating Kennedy seemed to indicate that I was in for more of this—sports, blood, sweat, hot guys in spandex. Two: I just might be willing to make the sacrifice.
Reaching up, I skimmed my finger over the corner of his mouth in the same manner he had mine at Amy’s house, catching the bit of cheese smudged there. With a sweet—and what I hoped to was alluring—smile, I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked it clean.
Kennedy’s eyes stayed glued to the side of my face after that, so he didn’t see the guy with the stick race down the ice like his ass was on fire and make the goal, but I did. Throwing my hands into the air, I cheered along with everyone else. “Goal!”
This was turning out to be fun after all.
An hour later I was stuffed full of chips and cheese, cheap pretzels, and diet pop. I’d had enough carbs to drop kick me into a coma, but I felt good. Kennedy was taking the time to explain what was happening out there, like what a right and left wing was, and that the center was like a quarterback? The only thing I understood was that the goalie kept the puck out of the net. That job seemed pretty obvious, so I focused on him.
“This is like a man’s game, isn’t it?” I questioned Kennedy at one point when almost the whole of both teams threw down their sticks and started brawling.
“Yeah, but there are a lot of women here, too,” he pointed out, and he was right. A very large portion of the crowd was female, but I suspected that about half were the groupie type and the other half were like me—along for the ride.
I let the conversation rest and just enjoyed the game. By the time it was over, and Kennedy guided us safely from the packed building and out of the parking lot, it was going on eleven o’clock and I was sure I had never been more tired in my life. It took everything in me to keep my eyes open on the way back to my apartment and I half wondered how I would make it when it came time to crawl out of bed and open the shop in just a few short hours.
Chapter 5
“You look like shit.”
Those were the first words out of Dex’s mouth when he walked through the front door of Sweetest Temptations. I looked up from helping a customer, seeing my friend strut his stuff past the long line of patrons to my counter, the majority of them passing him dirty and curious looks. He looked hot in a pair of Converse, close-fitting black jeans, wide white belt and white t-shirt tucked in. His blonde hair was gelled into a sharp but befitting mock hawk and when he winked his baby blues at a couple of ogling women, I could swear I heard them swoon. Too bad they weren’t his type.
“We can’t all roll out of bed looking as fresh as a summer’s breeze,” I retorted as I cashed out the woman in front of me. “Have a nice day,” I told her pleasantly.
“True, I am naturally gorgeous,” Dex said as he moved to join me behind the counter. Scraping the stool I had taken to using whenever business was slow across the floor, he seated himself to my left, close enough to be engaged yet out of my way.
“If you call guy liner and hair dye natural.”
“Enrique says that I was born to be a blond. I can’t help that my genes robbed me of that.”
I laughed at his crazy talk. Dex was openly gay, but despite his cheekiness, he wasn’t flamboyant. He fell somewhere in between—playful, sweet, slightly feminine, but he could also be very take-charge and commanding when needed. He was the perfect balance, and if he were into girls, I would have snatched him up ages ago.
“Two apple tarts,” the next woman in line requested, and I turned to fill the order.
“So what brings you by?” I asked Dex.
He shrugged as I moved past him to the counter and punched numbers into the register. “It’s Saturday, and I’m bored. I thought I would check out your new place.”
“It’s noon and you’re already bored?” I questioned.
“I have high energy.” He shrugged. “And I missed my girl.” I jumped and gave a little squeal when he slapped my ass as I bent to grab a bag from under the counter.
The customer standing on the other side of it gave me a tight smile, unsure if they approved of our banter or not. I didn’t really care. It was my business and if I wanted to be spanked in full public view, then I would. I passed the bag over the counter and took the next order. “You can hang out here for a while,” I suggested. “I can put you to work. There’s plenty of stuff around here that needs to get done.” And I needed all the help I could get. Once again, I was swamped. Saturdays were looking to be my biggest money maker. Despite coming in early, I hadn’t had a chance to make it back to the kitchen since the doors opened that morning.
Dex glared at me, but I knew he wasn’t the least bit mad or irritated. “Yeah, sure. Where do you want me?” Dex stood, searching for a place to start.
“Do you know how to run a register?”
He eyed the ancient piece of machinery. “It’s not computerized?”
I shook my head. “Nope. You just punch the numbers like this,” I said, demonstrating as I input the total, “and hit total and, voila!” The register chimed and the drawer shot open.
“Looks easy enough.”
I walked Dex through a couple of sales, and then showed him where I kept the bags, boxes, and sanitary gloves. “I’m going to head back for a bit and get some stuff in the oven. Will you be okay out here?”
Busily working th
e register, Dex said over his shoulder, “I’m fine. If I need you, I’ll holler.”
With one last look at the line leading out the door, I turned and headed back to the kitchen. I had my work cut out for me today, and if the business I was pulling in here was any indication of what to expect for the future, I might need to start thinking about hiring on another person to help out. Maybe Dex would be willing to sign on for the job? With a mental shrug, I walked back to the kitchen and got to work.
An hour later, maybe more, since I tended to lose track of time when baking, I was forearms deep in double chocolate brownie batter when I heard knuckles rap against the open door. My head popped up, a spoon of batter I’d been sampling pressed between my lips, caught in mid-moan, to see Dex standing there wearing an amused smirk. “Yeah, hate to interrupt…whatever the hell it is you’re doing in here, but you have a special request.”
Pulling the spoon out of my mouth, I swallowed the lump of chocolate, noting that it could use a pinch more sugar, and shook my head. “I don’t take special orders.” Yet. I was too swamped, too early in the business and trying desperately to get a handle on the responsibilities I had now, to even begin considering taking on anything more. As awesome as the opportunity would be…Shit, no, I couldn’t trap myself by biting off more than I could chew.
“Oh, you’ll want to take this one.” Dex’s blue eyes held a devilish twinkle that was only strengthened by the wicked smile spreading across his face.
“Dex…” I sighed. Holding up my hands, covered in flour and cocoa, I arched my eyebrows. “Even if I wanted to, I’m in no condition to go out there right now.”