Must Love Frosting: Must Love Diamonds Series, Book 1

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Asher rinsed the dish in his hand and set it in the tray to drain. “Do you know where he’s going this time?”

  She shook her head as she scraped off another dish into the garbage. “It’s classified. As always.”

  He gave her a nudge with his elbow when she handed him the platter. “We’ll keep the prayers coming for his safe return.” They didn’t keep in touch on a regular basis, but whenever Dev came home, it was like no time had passed.

  Elena pulled him down for a quick buss on the cheek with a murmured, “Gracias, mijo,” then did a quick sign of the cross before reaching for the next dish.

  It was almost forty-five minutes later that he noticed through the window guests were starting to depart and reluctantly took off the apron to dry his hands. “I suppose I better go out there and say a few goodbyes with everyone else.”

  That is, if Loyal had decided to hang around and—he checked the clock—Merit wasn’t down in the wine cellar.

  “Thank you for your help,” Elena said.

  “It was entirely my pleasure.”

  “And everyone thinks Merit is the charmer.” She stuck one hand on her hip, giving him a grin as he swiped his tux jacket off the chair and backed toward the party. “I’ll save you a container of cake in the usual place.”

  Grinning, he crossed his hands over his chest as a silent thank you, blew her a kiss, and spun around on his way through the doors. His mouth watered just thinking about the decadent desserts and addicting frosting to go with each one. His pulse quickened just thinking about the delicious redhead who’d created them.

  She doesn’t believe in love.

  The quiet voice in his head gave him pause, but a vivid recollection of her unzipped dress and bare back muted the cautionary reminder as he stifled a groan of longing. He had an overnight bag upstairs because he’d planned to stay the night so he could spend some time with Loyal, but even knowing the background behind his brother’s outburst, annoyance still simmered for the shot he’d taken at Roxanna.

  Better he go home tonight than stay and risk saying something he’d later regret. Tomorrow’s family brunch would be soon enough to deal with Loyal again.

  CHAPTER 11

  Honor vented her restless resentment as she viciously stirred her second batch of cupcakes by hand, her favorite ceramic bowl hugged against her chest while she turned to peer through the glass door of the oven.

  Almost done.

  She spun back to the island on the ball of her foot as a loud knock on her front door sounded over the music streaming from her portable speaker. She startled so hard, the bowl slipped in her arms, and she made a desperate grab to keep it from shattering on the floor.

  Geezus.

  She darted a glance at the clock on the wall. 1:13 a.m. Who could that be at this time?

  Her pulse stuttered, fingers tightening around the wire whisk handle as she debated ignoring the knock. Unfortunately, thanks to her lights and music, there was no denying she was home and awake.

  She turned the music down a few notches before easing toward the door. A glance outside revealed no car in her driveway or on the street. Through the decorative glass panels on either side of the door, she could only see the shadow of the person on her front porch.

  She stood on her side, too short for her peep hole, worrying her lip in indecision. She didn’t have any pets because hair and wedding cakes didn’t mix, but right about now, a great big dog sounded like a good idea.

  Or a big, strong man. With dark hair and—

  Nope. Give her the dog any day. A German Shepherd with a ferocious bark.

  Another knock made her flinch before she barked, “Who is it?”

  “Asher Diamond.”

  Surprise rocked her back on her heels, her heart suddenly high up in her throat for a whole different reason. A frantic glance down at her faded gray T-shirt and black leggings made her realize she was clutching the bowl of chocolate batter for dear life. Letting go of the whisk, she raised her hand to her hair. She hadn’t even brushed through it when she got home. Just gathered it up into a ponytail and then twisted it into a haphazard bun. And she’d washed off all her makeup.

  This was so not fair. He could be covered in dirt and grease and still be hot as hell. But of course, he wouldn’t be after his parents’ party, so it was doubly not fair.

  “What do you want?”

  “To apologize.” There was a beat of silence, then, “Hopefully not through the closed door.”

  Man, come on!

  “Please?”

  Fine. She’d give him a few seconds to apologize, and then he could leave. Short and quick so there would be no time to drool over the man.

  Or throw herself at him.

  As she started to swing the door open, she caught a glimpse of his dress shoes and black pants when the timer started beeping. “I’ll be right back. I gotta get those.”

  Honor hurried back into the kitchen, deposited the bowl of batter on the island, shut off the timer, and grabbed her pot holders. In the middle of pulling the lemon blueberry cupcakes from the oven, the sound of her front door closing registered, followed by the unhurried tread of Asher’s shiny black shoes on the hardwood floor.

  So much for short and quick.

  “It smells like heaven in here,” he commented.

  She turned around and nearly dropped both pans in her hands. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in six feet plus of oh-my-God-I-want-him-now. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead, he sported that rugged five-o’clock shadow, his tux jacket was gone, his bowtie hung undone around the unbuttoned collar of his snow-white dress shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned, muscled forearms.

  Annd, so much for not drooling.

  He stopped on the opposite side of her kitchen island. “You do know it’s after one o’clock in the morning, right?”

  Recovering a fraction of her sanity, she set the cupcakes on the counter before reaching back to shut the oven door. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I just got home and saw your lights on.”

  Imagining him driving around in his Camaro made her mouth water even more. She turned back to move the individual cupcakes from the pans to cooling racks as she asked, “And it seemed like a good idea to walk on over?”

  He leaned forward to rest his elbows and forearms on the island, putting the two of them at eye level. “I wanted to apologize for what happened. Since you were up, sooner seemed better than later.”

  She kept her gaze on her task. If she focused on busy work, she wouldn’t focus on him, because sure as shit, one look up and she’d get lost in his gorgeous eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. I don’t blame people for things that aren’t their fault.”

  “Still. I am sorry. Rox went a little overboard.”

  “A little?” She scoffed and started stuffing empty liners in the pans for the next batch. “She accused me of jinxing my cakes and breaking up happy couples in front of everyone. Some of the guests had asked for my card—and then there’s your parents and your sister. She was going to hire me for her wedding cake, but I can guarantee you that’s not going to happen anymore.”

  A quick glance through her lashes caught the grimace on Asher’s face.

  “You don’t know that,” he said.

  He wouldn’t convince anyone with that weak argument, least of all her. “I saw Celia’s face. No way she’s going to hire me now.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “That’s not the point. You shouldn’t have to talk to her.” Renewed anger surged as she finished the liners and reached for the bowl of batter. She set it down again with a thump and glared at him. “What the hell did your friend Rox mean when she said, ‘I felt it when I touched her’?”

  He hesitated a few seconds. “She’s psychic.”

  She snorted softly at that little gem, but then saw Asher’s jaw tense. Recalling his defensive reaction to his brother’s comments back at the party, her eyes widened. “Oh,
wow, you’re serious?”

  And wow, he actually believed in that kind of hocus pocus?

  “She owns a shop down on Aspen Street.”

  Honor saw the street in her mind’s eye. “Lift Your Spirit?”

  “That’s her.”

  Her irritation faded slightly while she began ladling the chocolate batter into the liners. Roxanna owned her own business. So maybe not quite the whack-job his brother accused. “I’ve never been in there, but my sister loves that shop.”

  Glory and her friends met for coffee and then went to have their auras read every so often. Their mom had gone with her a few times, too.

  “You should check it out sometime,” Asher suggested.

  She arched her eyebrows in disbelief.

  He winced even as a hopeful smirk quirked his lips. “Too soon?”

  “Way too soon. Besides, she might put a hex on me.”

  “She’s a psychic, not a witch,” he admonished, shifting to sit in one of her island chairs, his deliciously defined forearms still resting on the counter.

  She noticed a scar on his left arm, thin, white, and jagged. A thought about how he got it quickly morphed to, were those gym muscles, or work muscles? Cameras weren’t that heavy to give photographers that much of a workout, were they?

  And his hands. Large, clean, with neatly trimmed nails. After a few peeks she still couldn’t tell if they’d be soft or rough against her bare skin. The knuckle brush against her back as he’d zipped her dress earlier had left her fantasizing both possibilities.

  “May I ask you something?”

  That voice. Mmm. Yum.

  But, his hesitant tone had her risking an upward glance. Her stomach flip-flopped at the unexpected intensity in his amber eyes. If it was going to be that serious of a question, she wanted to tell him no. Wanted to tell him to go home across the street, and yet she also didn’t want him to go anywhere. The conflicting emotions were as messed up as her common sense right now.

  Before she could think of a reply that didn’t sound bitchy or cowardly, he asked anyway. “Was she right?”

  Good. Not so serious. I can handle this.

  “Of course not.” Honor scoffed. “I definitely do not jinx my cakes.”

  “I meant about you not believing in love.”

  Well, crap.

  His voice was serious again, and her heart thumped hard against her ribs. She kept her gaze downcast and kept ladling. “That’s a pretty personal question, and we’ve only just formally met.”

  He pushed up from the seat to stand at the island as if preparing to leave. “You’re right. Forget I asked.”

  “Who doesn’t believe in love?” she said defensively. “I mean, I love my parents, and my sister and my brother. My two nieces.” She gestured toward him with the ladle full of chocolate batter. “And my best friend and her son.”

  “Okay.”

  There was something that sounded suspiciously like disappointment in his voice. She finished filling the liners, set the batter bowl aside, and turned to open the oven door as she asked, “Would it matter? I mean, say…hypothetically…I didn’t believe in love love. What would it matter?”

  “It seems odd you’d choose to bake wedding cakes, of all things, if you didn’t believe,” he replied while she moved back and forth to put the second batch of cupcakes in the oven. “Hypothetically speaking.”

  “It’s a business. I’m a designer first and foremost. What I believe shouldn’t matter as long as I create what the client wants.”

  Closing the oven door, she pivoted back to set the timer. She pulled up short when she saw Asher had come around to her side of the island. Taken-aback, she watched his hand lift from her mixing bowl to his mouth. That drool she’d feared earlier threatened to make an appearance as he sucked chocolate batter from his finger.

  “Mmm.”

  “Hey.” Her voice rang sharp out of self-preservation. “Only the baker gets to do that.”

  He lowered his hand, offering a sheepish grin that was way too cute and sexy at the same damn time. The only way she kept from smiling back was by reminding herself his crazy psychic friend had cost her his sister’s wedding. But even then, it was a struggle when his gaze captured hers.

  As seconds passed, the twinkle in his eye shifted and sharpened, turning burnt amber into more of a hot, melty honey brown.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Only he didn’t sound at all remorseful. Didn’t act it either when he reached to swipe inside the bowl again.

  It was almost empty, so it wasn’t like it was a big deal, but she’d just told him not to do it. She started to protest, but lost all ability to speak when he leaned in close to offer her his chocolate covered finger. Heat seared through her body at the dawn of his challenging, mischievous grin. Plus, he still smelled as amazing now as he had earlier in the evening.

  When she didn’t move, he pointed out, “You did say only the baker gets to taste test.”

  Oh, God, how she wanted to lean forward and lick that batter from his finger. Problem was, that would have her imagining licking batter off other parts of him, and thoughts like that were liable to make her combust right here in her kitchen.

  And then who would take the cupcakes out of the oven?

  Who the hell cares?

  CHAPTER 12

  A sher’s heart hammered in his chest as he waited for Honor to decide if she was going to take his bait or not. It wasn’t a smart move, seeing as she’d pretty much admitted Roxanna was right—hypothetically—but he couldn’t resist getting closer, pushing her to surrender to the undeniable chemistry sparking between them.

  She was simply too damn appealing with those skin-tight leggings, messy, just-out-of-bed hair, and her fresh scrubbed face with a dusty smear of flour camouflaging the freckles on her right cheek.

  The chocolate batter slowly crept down toward his knuckle and she still hadn’t made a move. The exact moment he started to lower his hand, she grabbed his wrist and leaned forward to lick up the drip, then wrapped those pretty lips around his finger.

  Her tongue curled around the tip, her gaze locked with his the whole time. When she swallowed, the erotic pressure of her tongue pressing his finger to the roof of her mouth made him go from semi-hard to hard as steel in the space of one shallow breath. He pulled his finger from her mouth while lifting his other hand, then cupped each side of her face as he bent down to capture her lips.

  She rose up to meet him, her mouth eager against his, her hands grasping his forearms while he walked her one step back to press her against the island. Her soft, breathy moan was barely audible above the music in the background, but he felt the warm sigh against his lips. He echoed the sentiment, then slid his tongue inside her mouth, licking deep, seeking her heat.

  She tasted of chocolate, of course, but as he tangled his tongue with hers, he kept getting a hint of some decadent, elusive, irresistible sweetness that had him craving more. Just like the cakes she baked, one taste of the woman proved addicting.

  He lowered his hands to her waist for a quick lift that planted her butt on the counter. His mouth smothered her small gasp of surprise as she gripped his shoulders. When he moved in closer, her knees bumped into his stomach. He ran his palms down along her thighs, then grasped above her knees to spread her legs and step between them.

  All of a sudden, her knees gripped the sides of his hips, keeping him from getting too close. He bit back a groan of protest when she pushed against his shoulders. Her breath was as uneven as his as she drew her hands away from him to tangle them together in her lap. While shifting his weight back, he noted longing, dismay, and confusion chase across her face before her green gaze met his.

  Resisting the animalistic urge to crush her to him, he gently flexed his fingers on her knees. “What?”

  She smiled, but it faltered fast as she dropped her gaze to his chest. After a deep breath, she said, “We’re neighbors.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Then you should und
erstand why this isn’t a good idea.”

  He frowned. “Just because we’re neighbors?”

  “Not only that, but it’s a large part of it.”

  Asher slid his palms to the counter on either side of her legs and braced his weight on the heels of his hands. “Why?”

  The question came out as more of a demand than he meant it to, sparking defensiveness in her expression.

  “Because it is.”

  Softening his tone, he argued, “Because it is has never been a good reason why in the history of all reasons why, Honor. I’m going to need more than that.”

  She narrowed her gaze and stiffened her spine. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “You’re right, you don’t,” he agreed. “But let’s get something straight right away. I like you. I’m insanely attracted to you—have been since the first moment I saw you—and unless I’m way off base here, I think it goes both ways.”

  You were off base with Brianna.

  Yeah, well, Honor was not Brianna. She was so far from that bitch they might as well be opposite poles of the earth. In fact, arousal still dilated Honor’s pupils to the point the freckle in her right eye was barely visible. Interest like that couldn’t be faked.

  “Oh, really?” Her eyebrows arched. “Are you a jerk to all women you’re attracted to?”

  Reminded of how he’d walked away from her the first two times they met, he shot back, “No, just the one I thought was engaged. And while I will apologize for being an ass, it was the only way I could stop myself from kissing you when I thought you belonged to another man.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. That insane attraction he’d mentioned ignited in a split second. The edge of the counter bit into his palms as he struggled to keep from moving in for another kiss.

  She shook her head the tiniest bit, as if fighting her own internal desires. Then she drew in a deeper, more deliberate breath while lifting her chin. “None of that matters, because if we go too far now, it’ll be too awkward living across the street from each other when things are over. This is my home now, and I don’t want anything to mess with that.”