Absently working the sign post back and forth, her focus remained on the man as he wheeled his bike into the garage. Only when he disappeared did she notice the back of what looked to be a blue Camaro SS. She would recognize that rear end anywhere, and man, would she love to get a look at that car up close. Yesterday, she’d nearly drooled when she’d watched that ’57 Chevy that had driven by.
Maybe she should walk over and introduce herself. The car could be the perfect ice-breaker.
Just then, the guy came back out of his garage without his sunglasses, and Honor’s stomach bottomed out as she sucked in a gasp of surprised dismay. Even with a dark shadow of scruff on his jaw, she recognized the photographer from last night—hard to forget that unsmiling face.
She quickly returned her attention to the stubborn post, shoving hard, then jerking the wood back toward her while her entire body flushed with heat.
Un-freakin’-believable.
She fought the urge to turn and go back into her house immediately. Not only would the retreat be too obvious, but she didn’t run away from anything.
Then again, if she got the damn post out, she’d have a valid reason to go back inside and avoid acknowledging the jerk.
There was a good inch of wiggle room on each side by now. Bending her knees slightly, she braced her shoulder under the part that held the sign, then pulled up with her hands while pushing with her legs. The wood bit into her shoulder, but the post rose a few inches. Another forceful shove back and forth loosened it some more as she spotted Hot Photographer Neighbor Guy walking down his driveway, water bottle in hand.
Seriously? He’s coming over after being a jackass last night?
Maybe he was going to apologize now that he realized they were neighbors.
He better apologize.
Resentment from last night fueled her second attempt on the post. The four-by-four burst free more suddenly than she expected, and the momentum threw her off balance. She stumbled under the weight before landing on her back in the wet grass, hugging the wood for dear life.
A few blinks to clear the stars from her vision brought a pair of amber eyes into focus overhead. The heaviness of the sign lifted from her body, and then her neighbor crouched at her side. Her fingers twitched with the desire to reach up and brush aside the damp hair tumbling over his forehead. She fisted her hands against the odd urge.
“You okay?” he asked.
She pushed up to sitting and realized too late the move put her very, very close to his face. A deep, shaky inhale to calm her nerves ended up being an even bigger mistake. Mind-muddling waves of heat radiated from his body, infused with the scent of sweat, citrus, and morning sunshine. Up close, with his shadowed jaw and sexy hair, he looked good enough to eat for breakfast.
Too bad he didn’t have more frosting on his lips—this time she’d be tempted to lick it off. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Time slowed. She swallowed hard, and could’ve sworn he did, too.
And did he just move closer?
Honor lifted her gaze to his and suddenly drawing a breath of air into her tight lungs was impossible.
Who needs frosting?
He shifted his attention past her, to her house. When his gaze returned, his eyes were cool and shuttered. Any awareness she may have imagined disappeared as fast as the man had last night.
She clenched her fingers in the cool grass as his stinging rejection flooded back. Sheesh. One look into his mesmerizing eyes and how quickly she forgot.
He shifted away from her, and when he held out a hand to help her up, she pretended not to see it. If looking into his eyes could so effectively mess with her common sense, touching was absolutely out of the question.
Once on her feet, she turned awkwardly for a glimpse of her wet shorts while forcing a smile into her voice. “I’m fine. The only thing hurt is my pride.”
“And your leg.”
Honor twisted back around as he knelt in front of her. His palm closed around her calf as he leaned in closer. The thrill of his warm touch was tempered by the sight of blood trickling down her shin and a sudden stinging sensation in her leg. She braced a hand on his shoulder for balance, then had to fight the urge to run her fingers over firm muscles and heated skin.
“It’s just a small scrape,” he pronounced. “But you’ll want to wash it good.”
His fingers flexed ever so slightly, then left a trail of tingles down her calf before he pulled away and stood in front of her again.
Surprised by his doctorly advice, she murmured a soft, “I will. Thanks.”
He nodded. He looked ready to say something, but again, his gaze focused behind her.
What the heck was wrong with her house? She glanced back with a frown, but didn’t see smoke or anything else to set off alarm bells. When she turned back, her neighbor was already at the curb, scooping his water bottle up off the ground to head back across the street.
“Don’t forget to fill in that hole,” he instructed over his shoulder, his tone brusque. “Someone could break a leg.”
So much for an apology. What the hell?
She glared after his back for a frustrated moment before lifting the realty sign. After plunking it against the front of her garage, she covered the hole with a large rock from her landscaping until she could find some dirt to fill it in later, then went inside to wash the scrape on her leg.
Finally, she transferred her simmering hostility for the man across the street to the boxes in her living room. While setting up her kitchen, she went over both meetings with the testy photographer in her head. She still didn’t even know his name, for heaven’s sake.
He may have confused the hell out of her, but she wasn’t some naïve little virgin. No way she’d only imagined the sexual chemistry zinging between them. The air practically crackled with electricity whenever their eyes met. Yet, each time she would’ve encouraged him, he’d stepped back and put distance between them. Lots of distance.
“You’re Honor Hartman?”
Yes, she was, damn it, and what was wrong with that? They’d never met before last night—she damn sure would’ve remembered meeting him—so what was his problem? By his own admission, he loved her cakes, so that couldn’t be the issue. And her apparent relationship with Sam didn’t cover the surprised dismay in his voice when he confirmed her name.
Maybe he knew someone she’d gone out with? Someone who’d received the brush off? Some guys gossiped as much as women did, so it wasn’t a totally crazy idea that he could’ve heard her name at some point. What was crazy though, was after running into him last night, she found out they were neighbors this morning.
Setting the box in her arms on the island counter, she rested her hands on the open flaps. Hmm—maybe that was the issue. Maybe he knew her name from the real estate agent. In that case, his brush off would be understandable. Prudent, even. Because, really, no matter how hot the attraction, a fling with the guy across the street from her brand new home would be stupid when she planned to be here much longer than any relationship would last.
Disappointment filled her sigh as she dug into the box to get back to work.
She was unpacking the last box of kitchenware when her cell phone rang shortly after one p.m. Swiping it off the counter, Honor glanced at the caller ID before answering and turning on the speaker.
“Hey, Jim…how’s it going?”
“I’m freaking out.”
She rolled her eyes at the phone and unwrapped a plate before reaching for another. “Try to relax. You’ve got a whole week yet.”
“Not anymore. I’ve decided to do it tonight, and I need to see you right away.”
She faced the phone, a plate in each hand. “Wait, slow down. Tonight?”
Geez. First Bryan yesterday, now Jim today? Had the stars somehow mystically aligned to make this the perfect weekend to propose, or were her clients trying to drive her crazy?
“Yes, tonight.”
“But I’ve got your tickets for the Rockies next Saturday, and
the jumbotron guy knows to display the question in the seventh inning stretch.”
Not terribly original, but Jim’s girlfriend was a baseball fanatic, and he’d insisted she’d love it. Especially when the flowers, chocolate, and champagne arrived after she said yes.
“Heidi’s parents invited us to some ballet in Denver next Saturday. I couldn’t say no without her suspecting something.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders drooped as she set the plates on the counter. “That is a monkey wrench.”
“Yeah.”
Bracing her palms on the kitchen island, Honor frowned out the window, her mind racing. “I’ll tell you what, give me a few minutes to make some calls, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re the best.”
She smiled briefly. “Don’t jinx me, Jim.”
“Whatever you come up with will be great. But can we meet to go over the details, please? You know I need the face to face interaction.”
Her attention honed in on the house across the street where her neighbor sat on his front porch, bare feet propped on a chair, laptop across his thighs. He lifted a hand to his mouth and took a bite of food while poking at the keyboard with his other hand.
“I’m in the middle of unpacking,” she told Jim. “I’m a complete mess.”
“I’ll come to you. Please?”
She reminded herself if Jim walked away happy, any referrals he sent her way would help pay for her new home. This particular arm of her business was all based on word of mouth. “All right. I’ll text my address once I’ve got everything set up.”
They disconnected, and she dialed Alex—the jumbotron guy, and also her ex-brother-in-law. Thank God Glory had had an amicable divorce.
She didn’t even realize she was staring across the street until her neighbor tossed a crumpled green napkin on the table beside him, downed half a glass of milk in a couple swallows, and then lifted another chunk of food to his mouth.
Cake. He was eating the extra pieces of cake that he’d taken home from the wedding last night. Her cake.
Honor smiled as a light bulb flicked on in her head. Ha! It was so obvious. The way to this man’s heart was definitely through his stomach.
Well, not that she actually wanted to get to his heart, but she did want to be friendly with all her neighbors. And if he loved the marble wedding cake with butter cream frosting, he would roll over panting for her sea salt caramel and triple chocolate pudding cake.
Oh, God, no. Get that image right the hell out of your head.
“Hello?”
Alex’s voice on the other end of the line snapped her back to reality. She had a proposal to rescue before she could even think about making her neighbor pant.
Geezus. Rein it in, Honor!
“Hey, Alex. I need your help.”
CHAPTER 5
A sher hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Honor Hartman since he walked away from her last night. Then he did the same thing again this morning. It had been a shitty move, but he was having a hell of a time keeping himself from picturing someone else’s fiancé baking cakes naked—even if she was two-timing the guy.
The redhead had haunted his dreams, trailed along on his ten mile bike ride, and was waiting for him out on the curb when he got home. One touch on her leg confirmed her skin was as soft as it looked—and he was in trouble.
Especially when the chemistry sparking between him and the sexy cake baker nearly had him leaning in to kiss her right there on the lawn—with her fiancé probably watching from inside. After Brie’s betrayal, he wasn’t about to knowingly be that scumbag of a guy, which meant his best bet was to avoid the attraction by staying the hell away from her.
Out on his front porch after lunch, he started preliminary work on Shawn and Miesha’s wedding album, only to discover way too many shots of the woman he needed to stay the hell away from. Grimacing with annoyance, he switched over to his shoot from the nature preserve for Colorado Conservationist magazine. They’d requested proofs for a number of articles, as well as for their website.
Once he completed the magazine contract, he still had to sort the shots from his whitewater rafting trip the previous week, and plan his shot list for the Pike’s Peak climbing school the week after this. He had more than enough to keep himself busy, so why was he so damn restless?
Asher glowered through his lashes at the house across the street as his cell phone vibrated on the table. He nearly dove on the distraction. “Afternoon, Rox.”
“Afternoon, Ace. Did you have sweet dreams of your new neighbor?”
The too-perceptive question of the subject he was trying to ignore deepened his frown. Maybe he shouldn’t have answered the phone. “I’m not talking about my neighbor with you, other than to ask what the heck were you spazzing out about last night?”
“I was letting you know to be nice to her.”
He scrolled through a couple of pictures of a fox and her kits to find the right one for the magazine article. “And I was supposed to get that from your freaky psychic sign language?”
“Yeah, sorry, sometimes I forget you’re normal. Turns out she’s the one who bakes those cakes that give you mouth orgasms. How convenient is it to have her right across the street?”
“Not convenient at all,” he grumbled.
“What’d you two talk about?”
“She told me she baked the cake. That’s all.”
He wished that was all. Wished he didn’t have the memory of her feather-light touch on the corner of his mouth. Or the image of her licking frosting off her finger burned into his mind. It made him want to dip his finger in some batter and let her suck it off as those mesmerizing green eyes of hers widened with desire.
He bit back a groan and swiped to the next image on his laptop screen.
“Come on, it had to be more than that,” Roxanna pressed. “She and the cute blond guy broke up right after you left. Made a big scene, too, so I’m thinking you should go for it. Could be a match made in heaven.”
His pulse leapt at her words, but then settled right back to steady. “And screw the guy who proposed out on the front lawn?”
“Oh. Crap. I forgot about him.”
“Some psychic you are.”
“Hey. Anyway, forget the girl, then. I am psychic enough to know you already ate the cake you took last night.”
He’d finished both pieces for lunch. Even a day later and dried out on the edges it was still groan-worthy. “Any one of my brothers or sisters could’ve told you that without being psychic.”
“Well, they didn’t,” Roxanna retorted. “So if you want me to stop by tomorrow with the slab I wrapped up on my way out, you better be nice to me.”
“I thought you didn’t like the cake?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said something about it felt off. But clearly that doesn’t bother you, so, you gonna be nice or not?”
“Times like this, I’m glad you’re not normal.”
“Aw, you do say the nicest things.” Laughter echoed in her voice. “I’ll see you around ten.”
After they hung up, he managed to focus his concentration long enough to cross two items off his To-Do list before his phone rang again.
“’Lo, Mom,” he answered with a smile.
“Hi, hon. How was the wedding yesterday?”
“It was great. I was just about to work on the album. How was your dinner?”
“Good. Your father lined up some firm backing for the senate bid.”
The news wasn’t unexpected, but it produced a flicker of unease. Campaign years could get tough on the family. “He’s going to announce at the party Saturday, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Asher dusted his forefinger along the row of keys at the top of his laptop. “You sure you’re up for this, Mom?”
“I will never stand in the way of your father’s ambitions, Asher. He can do a lot of good for our country.”
“That’s not what I asked. I know it was hard on you last ti
me with all the negative campaign ads. A Senate run will garner national attention. The spotlight is going to be twice as bright and they’re going to spin every little thing they can to make Dad look bad, whether it’s true or not.”
“I know all this, Asher. I dealt with it last time. I’ll deal with it again,” his mom assured him. “Your father and I made this decision together.”
Like they did everything. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure.”
“And I love you for that. Thanks. But I actually called to see if you heard from Merit today, and to ask if you plan on bringing a date on Saturday?”
Both questions made him cringe. “I haven’t talked to Merit since last night. You know, he is twenty-five, Mom. He’s a big boy.”
“A big boy who doesn’t have a job, dates too many women, and doesn’t bother to let us know when he isn’t coming home,” she complained.
Dating was a generous way to describe Merit’s escapades. Her frustration was understandable, but seeing as his parents were the ones financially supporting most of his youngest brother’s bad habits, it was up to them to deal with the problem.
“You’ll have to talk to him before the campaign kicks off.”
“I will,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Or your father will. Right now, I just want to know he’s okay.”
“You never worry if I make it home at night,” he teased.
“Of course I do, but you have your own place. I don’t expect to see you at the breakfast table in the morning.”
“Even when Merit is home, does he make it to the breakfast table?”
“You have a point,” his mother conceded. “But he still sweet talks Elena into making him a plate in the kitchen, so at least I know he’s alive.”
“He’s alive, Mom. Probably hung over in a bed with one of the bridesmaids, but he’s alive.”
“Don’t be so crass.” Despite the admonishment, there was grudging humor in her voice.
“Just trying to make you feel better before I let you go.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all. And you didn’t answer my other question. Plus one or no?”
Must Love Frosting: Must Love Diamonds Series, Book 1 Page 3