CHAPTER TEN
“LET ME GET this straight. You and Willow aren’t really engaged, but you want to be, because suddenly you love her?” Ben paced his living room like a caged tiger. “What the hell is really going on, Zane? You show up last night looking like hell and ask for a place to crash. You make me wait until the morning so you can process whatever’s happened. And now you give me this load of crap?”
Zane had come straight to Ben’s after leaving Willow last night, but he hadn’t been able to think straight, much less figure out how to break the news to Ben that he’d been lying to him and was in love with his sister. Now, leaning against the back of Ben’s couch, where he’d been for the last twenty minutes as he explained to Ben what had happened, he still wasn’t sure what to say. He splayed his hands. “I know how it sounds. But it’s the truth, Ben. I needed to clean up my reputation. Willow agreed to help.”
Ben grabbed Zane’s shirt with fisted hands, seething through gritted teeth. “You asked my sister to lie for you?”
“You think I don’t want to pound the shit out of myself for this?” He knocked Ben’s hands away. “I’m an asshole, Ben. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Willow’s never asked a damn thing of you. Why her? Out of all the women in this world, why ask her to lie for you?”
“Because that’s what we do. We ask each other to do outrageous, unreasonable things, knowing we will.” There was no way Zane would give up their secret, so he gave Ben the only thing he had to offer.
The rest of the truth.
“Because I love her, man.” He dropped down to a chair at Ben’s bar.
Ben paced again. “You don’t know the first thing about love. I know you, remember? I know about your revolving bedroom door. You might be able to fool my sister, but you can’t fool me.”
“I’m not fooling her. I’ve owned up to everything I’ve done. I’m not hiding my past from her, Ben. Willow knows exactly who I am. She always has.” He pushed to his feet, too restless to sit still. “I want her in my future.”
Ben scoffed.
“You don’t know everything about me, Ben. Did you know I’ve kept in touch with Willow all these years? That I’ve asked her to meet me somewhere every fucking month for years? She never took me up on it, but that didn’t stop me from asking her too many times to count.”
“You don’t even know her anymore, Zane. You’re fooling yourself.”
“Am I?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Or am I finally doing what I should have done years ago? I know it’s crazy, but it’s true.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
Ben closed the gap between them. “Yeah. Why? Why do you love her?”
“Do you even know your sister? She’s smart as hell, more determined than any person I have ever known, and she’s funny, Ben. She makes me laugh, and she irritates the hell out of me with her snarky comments, but it’s the best kind of irritation, you know?” He sank down to the bar stool again. “And she’s sweet and real, and I don’t know, man. You’re asking me to explain something people have been trying to figure out forever. Love is crazy and unreasonable. And you’re right. I don’t know the first thing about it. But I’m going to figure it out.”
Ben crossed his arms, setting a steely gaze on Zane again. “Did you purposefully not mention her looks?”
“What?”
“You didn’t mention her looks even once.”
Zane shrugged. “She’s beautiful, but what does that have to do with anything? You asked why I love her, not if I thought she was pretty. Jesus, Ben. She’s a baker, and we all know how much she loves sweets. She could gain a hundred pounds and I’d still love her. What’s your point?”
Ben sank down beside Zane, shoulders slumped. “I think you just made it.”
“Now you’ve lost me.”
“God, you’re thickheaded sometimes.” Ben glared at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve talked about how hot women were. Never once did you mention anything real about a single one. I thought you were incapable of seeing past a woman’s looks. I honestly was worried that you’d end up like one of those old guys who marry a twentysomething, money-grubbing piece of arm candy.” His glare softened. “I believe you, man. So what’s your plan?”
“I’m going to win her over. No matter what it takes.” Zane smiled, knowing he’d taken a solid first step. “I sent her ten dozen roses. That should help ease the tension.”
Ben laughed.
“What? Women love roses. That’s like Romance 101.” He’d given her a single rose the night they’d first slept together, and she’d swooned.
“Not Willow. She can’t stand the sight of them.”
“Aw, hell.” Zane bolted for the door.
He had walked the eight blocks from Willow’s apartment to Ben’s house last night, and now he sprinted down the cobblestone streets toward the bakery.
“Hey, Zane.” Aurelia Stark, the woman who ran the bookstore, waved as he ran past. “Congratulations!”
He waved back and picked up his pace, skidding as he rounded the corner onto the main drag. A crowd of people milled around beneath the pink awning at the entrance to Sweetie Pie Bakery, spilling over to the sidewalk in front of Bridgette’s flower shop, Secret Garden. Two of Zane’s security guys flanked the entrance to the bakery.
He slowed to a walk, noticing several people carrying pink Sweetie Pie Bakery bags and long-stemmed red roses. A tall blond woman pushed through the doors carrying a pink box and a single rose. Anxiety prickled his limbs. Was Willow giving away the flowers he’d sent her?
“There he is!” the tall blonde yelled.
The crowd converged on Zane like a swarm of bees, waving pieces of paper and calling out his name. Zane drew upon his inner actor, forcing the man who wanted to reach his woman down deep so he could win over the crowd as quickly as possible. He squared his shoulders and flashed a practiced smile. He’d mastered faking it until he made it and moved on to made it, and needed to fake it until he could get the hell out.
“Give Mr. Walker some room, please.” Jacob Seton, the head of his security detail, formed a beefy barrier between Zane and the crowd, while Mort Penner, the other bodyguard, manned the door to the bakery.
A redhead thrust a newspaper past Jacob’s arm. “Can I get your autograph?”
Zane grabbed it and scrawled his name, hurriedly moving on to sign a handful of others. Every time the bakery door opened, he caught a glimpse of another customer carrying a rose, tightening the knots in his gut. He needed to see Willow.
A man walked out of the bakery carrying a rose, and Zane’s blood pressure spiked. What the hell was going on? He was done. He gave Jacob and Mort the secret nod, and the two burly men formed an impenetrable wall around him.
“I appreciate you stopping by, but that’s all I’ve got time for. My fiancée awaits.” His gut and heart warred with the statement as he quietly and quickly gave his security team instructions to ensure this type of thing didn’t happen again, and made his way into the bakery, which was almost as packed as the sidewalk.
The bell above the door chimed, and Willow popped up from behind the glass pastry display. “Hi, I’ll be ri—” Her smile tightened, and his hope plummeted.
She returned her attention to ringing up a purchase for a stout gray-haired woman. “Okay, hon. We’ve got two Loverboys and one blueberry muffin. Hopefully this will bring a smile to your granddaughter’s face. I’m so sorry to hear about her broken ankle.”
Zane kept his head down, hoping not to cause a ruckus as he had out front. He stuck close to the wall that adjoined Secret Garden. The archway between the two shops had no doors. The lights were out in the flower shop, and a single chain hung from one end of the archway to the other with a pretty hand-painted sign that read, WE’RE BUSY PLANTING SECRETS. PLEASE COME BACK TOMORROW. Had these shops been in LA, there would be impenetrable locked doors separating them. Zane smiled to himself. He’d wanted to get out of Sweetwater so badly when he’d graduated high school; he’d never recognized how monumental trust was in the community.
Zane inhaled the delicious aroma of fresh-baked pastries and the heavy floral scents of the roses. Sunlight streamed in the storefront windows, casting a warm glow over several round tables and on the self-service coffee station lining the far-left wall. He stole a glance at Willow, who stood behind the register at the right end of the counter. She was smiling at her customer, listening intently to something the woman was saying, and it was clear that she was trying not to meet his gaze. He took a moment to look around. The bakery was decorated in true Willow style, upbeat with a vintage flair. Distressed mint and pink cabinetry below wide glass displays spanned almost the full width of the store, with a walkway on either side. He knew Willow baked the items she sold each morning, and the cakes, muffins, and pastries were nearly sold out already. Behind the register were built-in shelves boasting packages of bakery paraphernalia wrapped with pretty pink and green bows. The original hardwood floors and elegantly detailed white crown molding gave the bakery a charming feel. The roses he’d sent were proudly displayed at each end of the counter and on several of the tables. Maybe Ben had it all wrong and she didn’t hate them after all.
Willow picked up a vase of roses and handed it to the elderly woman. “Give her these, too. If the sweets don’t do it, these sure will.”
“Oh, Willow. Bless your heart.” The woman turned with a pleased smile and carried the vase out the door as another customer stepped up to the register.
What the hell?
AFTER A SLEEPLESS night spent wishing Zane had stayed one minute and telling herself he’d done the right thing by leaving the next, Willow had come to work at 5:00 a.m. tired, confused, and longing to see the man who had singlehandedly turned her entire world upside down. She was in no mood for the flock of women who had invaded her bakery with the sole purpose of getting a piece of her fake fiancé, the man who was currently stalking her with a predatory look in his eyes. Lord help her, the man was brutally compelling in his tight, faded jeans, which hugged the assets that had doled out so many orgasms last night she’d lost count.
“How are you today, ca—Leah? What can I get for you?” Great, she’d almost called her cake pops! Willow often thought of her customers by what they ordered rather than their names. She tried harder to concentrate on her friend and ignore her fluttering stomach.
“I’ll take a box of cake pops for Lisa’s teacher, please,” Leah said. “She just found out she’s pregnant.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” Willow turned to grab a box, and Zane stepped behind the counter, snatching it off the counter with a puckish grin. She forced a smile for the sake of her customers and lowered her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Helping my fiancée.” He held the box as she filled it with cake pops.
“You’ve turned my life into a circus,” she whispered. He leaned closer, and her traitorous nipples peaked to attention.
“I’m sorry, Wills. Since when do you hate roses? I was trying to apologize.”
She’d loved the note he’d included with the flowers. I’m about as imperfect as they come, but my love for you is real. But the roses had reminded her of the one he’d given her all those years ago, and she’d had trouble fighting the troubling emotions that came with the memory.
“Since you know when,” she finally answered.
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and it killed her to see the hurt that followed. She wasn’t being fair. Not now that she knew the truth about what had really happened back then.
Willow rang up Leah’s order. The diamond ring turned as she used the register, slicing into the side of her middle finger as it had been doing all morning.
“Zane Walker,” Leah said breathlessly, a blush rising on her cheeks. “I’ve seen every one of your movies.”
Willow fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Zane stifled a chuckle and slid an arm around Willow’s waist. “I hope you enjoyed them. I’m gearing up for my most important role yet, as this beautiful woman’s husband. I’m truly a lucky man.”
Husband? Her insides fluttered. He sounded so sincere she wanted to throw caution to the wind, pretend everything was perfect, and live in that fantasy forever. But she’d tried living in a fantasy once before, and it had backfired. Big-time.
For both of us.
If they were going to really give this a shot, she needed to make sure they were communicating honestly. No more secrets, no more tricks. Were they capable of that? And what about when he went back to his life in LA? Long-distance relationships weren’t easy, and everyone in LA knew him to be just that. Easy. As if Zane were inside her head, his angry confession rushed in. You broke me.
“How’s it going, Mr. Gray? What can I get you?” Zane asked the next customer, drawing Willow’s attention from her befuddled thoughts.
“Morning, hon.” She smiled at Martin Gray, and knew chocolate chip muffins were on tap. Martin reminded Willow of Robert De Niro, with beady eyes and an ever-present twitchy smile, which made him look like he was always on the cusp of making a joke.
“Good morning, Willow. You look beautiful today.”
Always the flirt. “Thank you.”
Turning to Zane, he said, “I’ll take two chocolate chip muffins, please. It’s no wonder the ladies came out of the woodwork. I’ve lived here all my life and never seen half those women. I guess it’s not that often the star quarterback comes back for a visit.” A hearty laugh rumbled out of his lungs.
Willow chuckled. Zane winked at her, and her belly fluttered again. She was as bad as she’d been as a teenager with a crush.
“I assume you’ve heard our happy news,” Zane said to Martin.
“Sure have. I wondered who was going to sweep our Willow off her feet. But don’t you even think about whisking her away from here, son. I need my Sweetie Pie muffins.”
Carrie Warren reached over the counter, distracting Willow from her eavesdropping. She had gone to school with Piper and was about as gossipy as they came. “Let me see the ring, Willow. Oh my goodness. That is huge! Just gorgeous.”
Willow thought of Carrie by what she resembled, not what she ordered. She was a lemon tart: sweet-looking, but one bite was often overwhelming. She glanced at Zane, catching his eye. “Yes, well, everything Zane does, he does big.”
“I want all the details,” Carrie gushed. “How did he propose?”
Curiosity shone in Zane’s eyes, and Willow recalled the story he’d concocted about the proposal. “It was beautiful,” she said, and a smile crawled across Zane’s lips. She loved his smile, and it killed her to know how much she’d hurt him last night with her confused reaction. She turned back to Carrie before the longing she felt poured out of her mouth. “But I’d like to keep the details of our proposal private. What can I get for you?”
She felt Zane’s gaze burning into her as she filled Carrie’s order, but there was no time to stop and try to clear the air. The bakery was slammed, and she and Zane worked in tandem for the next few hours. Zane poured on the charm to each and every customer, touching Willow every time they passed in the narrow space behind the counter and whispering sexy innuendos until she sported an irrepressible, bordering on ridiculous, smile.
Now he was helping the last customer, a young brunette Willow didn’t recognize, while Willow wiped down the tables.
Zane called across the shop, “Hey, babe. I need a good whipping.”
Her mind went straight to the gutter. Whipping? Are you into that? Am I? No. No way. Her eyes darted to the customer, who was giggling. Only then did Willow notice the box of éclairs in Zane’s hand. Oh, thank goodness.
After topping the éclairs with whipped cream, which brought more sexy innuendos than should be legal, she rang up the customer and locked the door behind her after she left. She felt Zane’s presence before his arms circled her waist from behind, and his soft, warm lips touched her neck.
“We make a good team, Wills. Let me be the frosting on your cupcake.”
Yes, yes, yes. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong. They needed time to talk before she could fall under his spell again. But first she had to get started on Louie’s cake. A flicker of panic rose in her chest. Bridgette was probably furious with her for not calling last night.
“I can’t think about frosting your cupcake right now. I haven’t even made Louie’s cake yet. The place has been a zoo since early this morning.”
He turned her in his arms, and his seductive gaze bored into her. “Hi. Remember me? The guy who told you he loves you?”
Only he could make her laugh when she was so stressed. “I remember.”
“My security guys got rid of the reporters.”
“Yes,” she said as firmly as she could, trying to claw her way back to having some modicum of a backbone. “But the people in town wanted to congratulate me, and I have no idea where all those girls came from, but they obviously wanted to get an eyeful—and probably much more—of you. I changed my mind. I don’t want national exposure. It sounded good. Actually, it sounded too good to be true, but it’s a big pain in the butt. I should have had time to make Louie’s cake, but I haven’t had time to breathe.”
“Then I’ll help you. And all of this stuff will die down by tomorrow. I’ve already taken care of it. It happens every time we film in a new place. Fans come from neighboring towns to get a look at celebrities. I hate it, too, Wills. I hate it more than you could ever imagine. But it’ll be over quick, especially without the media hounds feeding them articles every day.”
“What a nightmare. I don’t know how you deal with that kind of attention. I’ve decided that I’m happy with my quiet, small-town life. If my days were all this busy, I’d have to hire people to help me. I like having a business where I can hang a sign on the door and lock up because I want to run an errand and not have to worry about people mobbing the place. I want to do more catering, but all I really want is to make Sweetie Pie into a bakery and bookstore.” Why was she suddenly a motormouth? She must really be nervous. “Aurelia’s here for the week, and I’m going to talk to her when I get a chance. So please nix the exposure except where we have to be seen together to clean up your reputation. Just please keep them away from the bakery.”
Aurelia Stark had been raised by her grandparents, who had owned the only bookstore in Sweetwater for more than forty years. She’d gone to school with Willow and had moved away after college. A few years ago, Aurelia’s grandparents had sold the bookstore when Aurelia’s grandfather had suffered a stroke and moved into a rehab facility on Long Island. Mick Bad, the attorney who purchased the building the bookstore was in, lived in New York City and had been looking for a small place in town to use as a weekend getaway. He’d gotten along so well with Aurelia’s grandmother, he’d kept the store intact on the first floor, in case Aurelia’s grandmother ever wanted to come back and run it, and used the apartment upstairs as his getaway. Aurelia came into town for a few days each month and opened the store to keep her grandmother’s dream alive. Willow hoped she could convince her to go into business together and combine the bookstore with the bakery.
“Already taken care of.” Zane leaned forward. “The exposure you’ve already gained, plus the catering for the set, should still help with getting your name out there. Even without the photographers hounding us, they’ll be around the set, and stories will still make the papers.”
She arched a brow. “Did I mention that I received an e-mail this morning from someone named Payton from craft services for the set? She’s sending over the breakfast menu tomorrow. She said they usually have bagels and pastries for breakfast, but apparently some of the crew members have special dietary needs.”
“Like I said, I’ll help.”
“I’m sure you have to study your lines and do whatever actors do.” She glanced out the window at the two security guards. She hated that they needed to be there, but she had signed up for this.
Zane slid a hand to the back of her neck, brushing his thumb over her skin.
“Come on, Wills. Let me help you bake Louie’s cake. Give me an inch.”
“You’ll take a mile.” Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “I’m good at taking more with you. But in all fairness, I can’t help it. Maybe I shouldn’t have let us go so far last night.”
“You? Ha! Aren’t you the cocky one? That was my decision, too.” She couldn’t stop her voice from rising, and the emotions that had bottled up over the last twenty-four hours rushed out. She swatted at a rose, sending several petals sailing to the floor. “And I don’t hate these!”
He crossed his arms, and despite her tantrum, he was perfectly calm. “You gave them away.”
“I was angry. Or . . . confused. I was something.”
Amusement rose from his smile all the way to his eyes. “I feel like I should apologize. But I’m not sure about which part. Asking you to lie for me, or realizing I’m in love with you.”
Her insides melted a little more. “Zane—”
“Hear me out.” He stepped closer, his masculine scent engulfing her as he touched her cheek. “It was wrong of me to ask you to lie, but if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have spent this time together. And there’s no way in hell I’ll apologize for my feelings.”
His touch was a heady invitation, drawing the truth like a serum. “I don’t want an apology.”
He lowered his chin in that devastatingly alluring way he had, and she fought the urge to go up on her toes and press her lips to his. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his mouth, remembering the firm press of it against hers, the openmouthed kisses he lavished on her neck, her breasts. Between my legs. Her body shuddered with the tantalizing memory.
“Are you going to tell me what you do want?”
His voice pulled her from her reverie. Feeling a little unsteady, and aware of the minutes ticking by, she headed into the kitchen. Her lair. The only place she felt grounded and confident despite whatever chaos went on around her. She began setting out mixing bowls and ingredients for Louie’s cake.
Zane followed her in. “Last night was agony, babe. I’ve gone over this a hundred times, trying to figure out where I went wrong.”
“Where we both went wrong.” She carried the flour to the counter and pulled a measuring cup out from beneath.
“Bullshit, Wills.” He waved at the counter. “How can I help with this?”
She pointed to the refrigerator. “Think you can measure a cup of milk and break six eggs into this?” She pushed a bowl across the counter and began measuring the flour.
“I’m on it.” He tugged the fridge open. “I’m always happy to handle your jugs.”
“Only you could joke right now.” She tried to sound serious, but it rode out on another laugh.
“I wasn’t joking.” He smirked, and God help her, she loved his naughtiness. “Clearly this was my fault. One minute you were in my arms, and then I opened my big mouth and you were gone.”
She dumped the flour into the bowl and leaned over the counter, tapping the sides of the vanilla and almond extract bottles over his bowl. Her ring spun on her finger, scratching the inside of her middle finger again. She turned it right side up, and the damn thing spun again.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she snapped, annoyed with the ring, not him. She drew in a calming breath. “Don’t you think there’s a chance you’re just in the moment? And when the beautiful actresses and the rest of your Hollywood life roll into town, you’re going to realize I’m just a small-town girl who will never be what you’re used to?”
He looked up from where he was cracking eggs into a bowl with a serious expression. “No.”
“When you’re done filming, your life will get away from you again, and regardless of what you might or might not feel for me—”
“Jesus, Willow.” He came around the counter with a wolfish look in his eyes. “These are my feelings. I know what I feel, and I know what you feel, because I see it in your eyes. I feel it in your touch.” His voice went low, unleashing a whirl of passion in the pit of her stomach. She hated—and loved—that he had that effect on her with nothing more than his voice. No wonder his touch turned her inside out.
“You look at me like I’m a bucket of frosting and you want to dive in.” He stepped closer, stealing all the air from her lungs. “I gave up too easily back then. I should have said ‘fuck the guy’ you brought home and done this—”
His mouth collided with hers, as punishing and angry as it was sweet and provocative. Shivers of desire sliced through her as he delved deeper, crushing her to him. Her thoughts fragmented, and every ounce of her thrummed to life, pressing into him, craving more than one kiss could ever give. His hands circled her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter. He pushed between her legs, intensifying his possession and their kiss. Jesus, this kiss. It was a kiss for her hungry soul to melt into—and melt she did. He was an eagle soaring through the sky, and she was weightless, entranced by his intensity, completely and utterly lost in him.
He tore his mouth away, and she touched her burning lips.
“Yeah,” she whispered without thought. “You should have done that.”
“Then stop pushing me away and let me show you the man I can be, the man I will be for you.”
“You can try,” she said, struggling to beat her dizzying brain into submission. “But I’m warning you. I won’t fall for you just because you set my body on fire.”
He waggled his brows and pulled her closer, until she felt his hardness against her center. “I set your body on fire?”
“Oven,” she said to distract herself from the delicious man rubbing against her like a cat. She was so into him, poor Louie would never get his cake. “I need to heat up the oven.”
“I’m all for getting heated up.” He dipped his head, ravishing her neck with openmouthed kisses.
“Z—” We’re never going to finish baking Louie’s cake. She was pretty sure the words never made it from her brain to his ears.
He took her in another plundering kiss, chasing away more of her brain cells.
“Louie’s cake,” she panted out between kisses. “Need to bake it.”
“You bake, baby.” He lifted her from the counter and set her feet on the ground, then turned her toward the counter. He ground his hard length against her ass. “I’ll just . . .” He unbuttoned her jeans, slowly unzipping them from behind. “You’d better get mixing, or prepping, or whatever it is that needs to be done to get that little guy’s cake in the oven.”
She scrambled for the ingredients, trying to remember where she’d left off as he pushed his hand down the front of her pants, teasing her and nibbling on the back of her neck. She pressed her palms to the counter, trying to catch her breath. It was a losing endeavor.
“Finish up, sweet girl, so your big guy’s cake can get in your oven.”
She’d never made a cake so fast in all her life.