Most of the time I’m pretty okay with having a limited circle of friends. Born and raised in a small town, and the owner of a small business, I have very little time to go out and meet new people.

Which was just fine with me most of the time, but on a day like today when I needed a few tasters for the possible cakes for the biggest job of my short career, I didn’t have many to choose from.

Vivi couldn’t make it because she’d spent all night writing, and had to make it up to her family, which I understood. Completely. Maddie had a sale at the store, which meant she would be at the shop all day and probably late into the night. That left my only remaining, and newest friend. Magenta, who was already ten minutes late. I picked up my phone with my eyes glued to the black forest gateau, hoping the whipped coconut cream held up in the heat of the kitchen. “Yo, what’s up?”

“Magenta, where are you? You were supposed to be taste testing my cake samples today!”

“That’s why you’re freaking out on me?” Magenta laughed, the buzzing sound in the background telling me she was working. Right. Now.

“Uh, yeah! Why the hell else would my voice be so high that only dogs can hear it?”

She snickered, snickered at me. Like this was some kind of joke. “Maybe because you’re a little high strung, and could use a cocktail? Or two.”

“Magenta!” I said in a warning tone. She was at least one hundred times tougher than me, but with the way I was feeling, I knew I could take her.

“Calm down, Trish, I didn’t forget. But I am in the middle of changing a misguided tattoo so I’m sending a replacement.”

“A replacement? Who in the hell-,”

“Don’t worry about a thing, girl. Now I’ve gotta go. Save me some cake, I’ll swing by later.”

“Later! There is no-,” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence before the call ended abruptly. “Dammit!” This is what happens when you don’t take enough time to live a full, well balanced life. Now I was stuck with three miniature wedding cakes in black forest, pink champagne and ginger cinnamon spice.

The wedding was exactly eleven days away, and Kerry hadn’t been able to make up her mind about which of the cakes she liked best, though I guess I should be grateful she’d narrowed it down to these three in Vegas. Which meant I was either going to be incredibly busy making three separate four tier wedding cakes along with a few beignet towers for good measure, or I would make the wrong choice and ruin my reputation in one fell swoop. “Fuuuuuck!”

The ringing doorbell stopped my tirade before it really got started, and with an annoyed grumble, I marched to the door and yanked it open. “What…you! What are you doing here, Mason?”

He wore a smirk as his forest green gaze raked over my appearance, which I hadn’t bothered with because it was just supposed to be me and the girls. I knew exactly what he saw, a flower dusted blue tank top and my denim skirt that had a glob of chocolate on the right pocket. My blond hair was a mess with wisps flying all around my head and my skin was flushed from the overheated kitchen, and maybe a little bit from half a bottle of wine that came from the case Crosby had sent in thanks for the engagement party desserts.

“I’m here to be your official cake tester, Cupcake. Magenta sent me in her place.”

“Why?” I know I sounded ungrateful, but what in the hell was she thinking, sending him of all people? Sure, we’d had some incredible sex in Vegas and over most of the continental United States, but that didn’t mean anything. Not to me, and certainly not to Mason, who’d all but become invisible in town.

“Because she’s finishing up a big job, and then Vivi finally decided on a tattoo and she wanted some privacy. Is that a problem?”

Damn right it was a problem. But I was a professional. And desperate, which meant I had to be a big girl.

“Nope, no problem at all.” Even though being this close to him only reminded of the way he’d kissed me until my panties had soaked all the way through. Overheated. And horny as hell. “I just need an objective opinion. I know you have no problem telling me what you really think, so if you haven’t been eating sriracha today, you’ll do.”

He took a step inside, closing and locking the door without taking his laughing green eyes off me. “Aww, Cupcake, you tryin’ to make me feel special?”

“Nope.” I made sure to put an extra pop on the ‘p’ to make sure Mason got the hint, that I wasn’t pining away for him or wishing for more. I mean I wouldn’t say no to another ride, but I wasn’t holding my breathing. Or hoping for more.

He laughed behind me, following me into the kitchen where he took up too much space. So much space that I could barely move without touching him, or without feeling like I was touching him. Even when he wasn’t touching me, his presence, his big body was all around him. The heat of his body was too much, and I stuck my head in the fridge just to cool off a minute.

“Where do you want me?”

Flat on your back. “Just have a seat at the table.” Taking a deep breath, I pulled the water filter pitcher from the fridge and set it on the table beside the wine. “Drink water between each slice to clear your palate and give me your honest opinion.” At least I could count on Mason to do that much.

He frowned, biceps flexing as he crossed his arms over his chest and pushed the chair on its back legs. “Isn’t this something you should be doing with Kerry?”

“Yes, but she’s on her way back to LA right now and she won’t be in the city until the week of the wedding. Narrow it down to your two favorites, and I’ll overnight them to her for the final choice.”

Mason whistled and shook his head. “Overnighting the cakes. Isn’t that risky?”

“Normally, yes. But I have a service that specializes in food delivery so I’m not worried about it.” It would cost a pretty penny, but for what Kerry and Crosby were paying me, it was well worth it. “Ready?”

He nodded and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Ready to eat your delicious cakes? Bring it on, Cupcake.”

I smiled, surprised his little nickname didn’t rile me up the way it usually did. I handed him the pink champagne first because the flavors were mildest. “Each of the cakes is gluten free and vegan, but I’m willing to bet you won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I believe you.” Mason lifted his fork, poised to dig in as soon as I slid the slice in front of him. “Come to daddy you pretty little thing.”

“Do you need a moment alone?” I quirked a brow at him in amusement, though secretly, I was pleased at his reaction. It never hurt to hear how good someone found your food, and it was especially nice when the person in question excelled in picking out your flaws.

“Maybe. I’ll let you know once I get my mouth on her.”

I didn’t know if Mason was trying to be purposely provocative, but his words took me right back to the jet, to his mouth on my core, kissing my pussy like it was what he was born to do. My nipples beaded first, and then my breasts grew heavy at the images replaying in my mind.

“Cupcake?”

I blinked a few times until the kitchen was back in focus. “Don’t call me that.”

“Then don’t look at me like that.”

“I wasn’t looking at you,” I insisted even though I really couldn’t be sure, but I would die before admitting as much to him. The man didn’t need any more ammo against me.

“You were. You were looking at me like you were thinking about the last time I had my mouth on you.” He grinned knowingly. The ass. “It’s okay, I was thinking about that too. About licking this pink champagne frosting off your pretty pink puss-,”

“Don’t say it! Just…eat.”

“Exactly.” His self-satisfied smile made me want to smash his face into the plate, but I couldn’t. I was on a very tight schedule, and not even Mason with the magnificent mouth would deter me.

“Cupcake, this is incredible.” It must have been because he finished the slice in three bites and reached for another.

“Not yet,” I told him with a smile to soften my harsh tone. “You can have seconds when you’ve given me your impressions.”

“Okay.” Mason let out a long breath, his green gaze settled on the rest of the cake with longing. “Promise?”

“To make things easier, I’ve given you a card to rate the overall taste and texture and then you can write down what you think. I’ll wait.”

“Wow, this is a lot.”

Uptight. High strung. They were words I’ve heard before, at least a dozen times in the past week from Magenta, but I had to be. Aunt Becca left me with her legacy and I had to do her proud.

“I know but please do it this way.”

With a smile and wink that I felt all the way down to my toes, Mason picked up the pen and began to write. And write. And write. Every dozen seconds, or so he would glance up at me and then the cake, like it was what motivated him to keep going. “All right, Cupcake, feed me.”

“This is-,”

“Black forest cake. I love black forest cake.” His lips parted into a smile unlike any I had seen from him since he came to Belle Musique. I’d seen his flirtatious smile. The sweet smile he used on most of the seniors in town, and even the slightly wicked smile he used on the feistier older women in town. And yes, even the mocking smile he seemed to reserve just for me. But this one, it was equal parts heat and happiness, and it transformed his face from ruggedly handsome to holy hot damn I want of piece of that hot. “Love,” he said again and used his fork to cut the slice in half, eating the entire thing in under ten seconds. Again, Mason grabbed the pen and began to scribble furiously. “Tell me how you came to own a bakery in this town, Cupcake.”

I blinked at the casual way he asked the question, like he wanted to know the answer. But we both knew he didn’t want to know. “Why?”

Mason looked at me with a frown darkening his handsome features. “Because I don’t know much about you.”

“Probably because you don’t want to know, Mason. You’ve been here for months and you’ve made no effort to get to know me. Just because we had sex, now you feel compelled to ask.”

He stared at me like snakes were growing out of my hair. Which to be fair, could actually be happening since I didn’t bother to comb my hair today.

“It’s not like you tried to get to know me either.”

“That’s not true. The first few times you came into Belle Bean, I asked where you were from and you grunted at me. Then I asked if you bought the building on Third and Jubilee, and you looked right through me. So yeah, I did try. But I also know how to take a hint.” Mason stared at me so long I squirmed uncomfortably and went to the final cake. “Okay, this is ginger and cinnamon spice. Same thing.”

I waited for him to dig in, but he didn’t. Instead those green eyes seared through me. “I came here from Chicago, but I spent years building my tattoo portfolio in Vegas and LA, plus a few more cities around the country.” Then, like he hadn’t said a damn thing, Mason dug into the last cake.

While he wrote, and my gaze focused in on his tattoo covered forearm, noticing for the first time that Mason was a lefty.

“I was raised by my Aunt Becca after my mom died. I came to Belle Musique and never left, other than the odd vacation or two.”

“I’m sorry about your mom. We lost our dad to a convenience store stick up. He went out to get some milk for our cereal and scared a tweaker.”

“Oh Mason, I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

He flashed a wistful smile as he shrugged. “It is, but he was great while he was here. ” I admired his ability to see life in that way, because every day I cursed the cancer that stole my mom from me. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just surprised that you’re so…Zen about it.”

He grinned and slid the cards across the table. “I’m a Zen kind of guy, Cupcake.”

That made me snort a laugh, because Mason was so intense that he could be damned intimidating. “Maybe several layers below the surface,” I told him and slid another slice of black forest cake his way. “Why tattoos?”

“Why not?” Under normal circumstances I might have felt some kind of way about him ignoring me, but the way he tucked into that black forest cake was so satisfying I couldn’t feel anything else.

“Well you’re clearly a talented artist so what made you choose tattoos over another medium for your art?”

“Talented?”

“I’ve seen your forearms, Mason. And I’ve seen Crosby’s body art too.” My lifelong crush on the rocker meant I’d seen a lot of his skin, very up close and in gigantic posters. Life-size cardboard cut outs of the ink covering most of his body.

“Aww, Cupcake, you think I’m talented.” I rolled my eyes, and he laughed around another huge hunk of cake. “I actually went to art school and made it two years, before I realized that I hated the New York art scene and hell, the art scene in general. Then I met this guy, Gus Van Der Holden, who was a fantastic tattoo artist. He let me apprentice with him, and grow as an artist. Allowed me to find my own style and grow. Crosby was the first high profile tat I did, the one on his back.”

“The sexy angel with those incredible wings?” God, the fantasies I had about scratching my nails down that tattoo.

“Yep, that’s mine.”

“That is a great piece of art, Mason.”

“Thanks, Cupcake.” He looked down longingly at the last piece of black forest cake and I slid it in front of him.

“Want some wine? It’s the good stuff, at least I assume it is because Crosby sent a case of it.”

“Hell yeah.”

I poured us both a glass, and took a seat across from him, looking down to read his impressions of the cakes. “Mason, you can’t pick all three cakes.”

“Why not? They’re all very good. I’d take a slice of each at the wedding.”

My skin flushed with warmth. “Thank you, but that’s not exactly helpful.”

“Okay fine. My favorite is the black forest, but I’m not sure it’s a wedding cake, although the red and black might be perfect for the lead singer of Hard Five.”

“Well that was…not helpful at all, Mason. Thanks.” I raised my glass in toast to him with a smirk and downed the entire thing.

“Send all three to Kerry and see what she says. They’re good, Cupcake and I’d eat them all.”

“Wow, that’s like five or six compliments in the space of, two hours? Has it really been that long?”

Mason nodded, and covertly tried to pull the pink champagne cake his way. “Ready to kill me yet?”

“Surprisingly, no. But you are overdue for an insult, and I might get a little weirded out if you don’t do it soon.” The truth was that after spending this much time with Mason and getting to know him, I disliked him a little less than I did when I woke up this morning.

The bigger problem was that I wanted him so much more than I did when I woke up soaked in sweat with his name on my tongue.