Chapter 4

Two weeks had passed since the fire, and I’d managed to scrub down the kitchen and move the burned pieces out back, for inspection by the guys from the insurance company. They still hadn’t been by to check it out, and I couldn’t wait longer to officially launch the bakery.

Luckily, the firefighters had managed to save the wall before it had gone up in flames. Most of the damage was contained to a small section and I worked around it. Looking at it gave me a pang of sadness. I hoped all of my dreams hadn’t gone up in smoke along with one of my ovens.

I’d already iced this morning’s feature and set them out in the glass shelves. My assistant, Tess, was hard at work making a second batch. Last week’s launch had gone off without a hitch and we’d gotten plenty of customers in the first week of work.

I stood behind the counter and admired the cupcakes. Red Velvet Raptures with cream cheese frosting and Dark Decadence with gold sparkle sprinkles twinkled in the morning sunlight. I grinned and rubbed my hands together. Today would be a good day. It had to be.

The bell above the door tinkled and an old woman entered. She had a sky-colored hairdo and a sweet smile. “Hello, dear, how are you today?”

“I’m well thanks, Mrs. Atkinson, and how are you?” One week and I already had a regular. It was awesome. The whoop of excitement in my belly translated to a wide smile on my lips.

“I’m wonderful, just wonderful. I’d love a few of the red velvets. Rapturous Red Velvet, I mean,” she corrected with a wink.

I grinned and nodded before bringing out the specially designed boxes which had the bakery’s name printed across the top in gold foil, then packed in the cupcakes and rang them up behind the till.

Mrs. Atkinson accepted the box with a lick of her lips and handed over the cash. “You keep the change dear, these cupcakes are worth every penny.” She shuffled out, grasping the box in her wrinkled hands.

Even the elderly loved the concept of my cupcakes. I couldn’t believe it. I’d thought the more staid members of society would’ve been upset by it, but they weren’t at all. The older the customer, the more they seemed to get a kick out of Temptations.

Everybody had a naughty side, apparently. Even Mrs. Atkinson.

I giggled at the thought and smoothed my hands over the counter. It was still early, the time between the early morning work rush and the brunch hour was pretty quiet.

I scratched my chin and moved to go help Tess in the kitchen, but the unexpected tinkle of the bell stopped me in my tracks. I plastered a smile on my face for the next customer as I swung back around. A flush stole up my neck and settled into my cheeks. I gasped out loud, then clamped my mouth shut in embarrassment at my reaction.

Six months of celibacy was knocking on my vagina.

The hottest guy I’d ever laid eyes on stood about ten feet in front of me, hovering in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if the Red Velvet Raptures would bite. He shoved his hands in his pockets as his eyes drifted over the décor, landing on the crystal centerpieces.

It was true that Temptations catered to a more feminine clientele, but my cupcakes were delicious and he’d figure that out. Once he tried one. If he tried one. The rigid pose of his uncertainty outlined the angle of his broad shoulders and straining biceps against the sleeves of his North Face coat.

Just when I thought he’d turn to flee the girly environment, he unzipped his coat. I blinked rapidly in a futile attempt to clear my head and tore my gaze away from his chest, the ripple of abs visible beneath the thin, white cotton.

“Hi,” he said and flashed a smile with perfect white teeth and dimples. Oh my God … dimples. “I’m told you’re good with cupcakes.”

I swallowed twice. “I — uh, yeah. You could say that.” Come on, what was wrong with me? I had to get it together. He was hot, divine actually, but I couldn’t let that get in the way of business. With my new customer.

“Great,” he replied, then sauntered forward a few steps. He pulled his massive hands out of his jean pockets and placed them on the countertop. “What are these?” He pointed.

I stared at his dark brown hair, the stubble on his chin, the straight nose and clear blue eyes. Like the sparkle of the ocean on clear day. “Pardon?” I breathed.

“These, over here. What are they?” He spoke it as a command more than a question, but the skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement. At my bemusement.

I shook my head and followed his finger. That perfect finger attached to that perfect hand. A flash of what that hand might be able to do raced through my addled brain. Somehow, I found the words to answer. “They’re Red Velvet Raptures,” I replied.

“Sounds delicious,” he said and I watched his lips form the word. Full and lush. Lips made for kissing. And other things.

Okay, I was in serious depraved mode, but it wasn’t every day I saw a guy who looked like this. He was fit, but not in that body builder kind of way. He was more lean muscle — balanced, and his eyes were a little close together. The blue eyes that twinkled like the sunbeams in July.

I liked that. There was also a scar on his chin. I wondered how he’d gotten it and was about to ask when I suddenly realized how inappropriate that would be.

Shit. I needed to stop this …

“Would you like one?”

“I’m pretty certain one wouldn’t be enough,” he replied. “It’s never enough.”

I bent to reach one of the boxes, but he caught my hand and stopped me.

Electricity sparked across my skin and my breath hitched in my chest. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. No quirky remarks or questions. Just breath. And desire.

He stared at my lips, as he tilted his head to one side, exposing the line of his jaw. God, how I wanted to reach out and touch it. Touch him. Run my fevered fingers across every plane of his face. “What’s your name?”

“I, uh,” I stammered. What was my name? I would’ve told him, but he’d pretty much reduced my brain to mush and my body to a liquid pool of lust.

“I’m Gabe.” He said it, and it was the best syllable I’d ever heard.

Gabe.

“Allegra,” I whispered, staring at his hand on mine. Heat prickled down my spine and spread through to my core, pooling wetness in my lacy panties before we’d even been properly introduced.

“I’m sorry?”

The way he said that made my skin sensitive. I pictured his lips whispering over my collarbone, kissing and licking their way to the exposed valley of skin above my V-neck. Then, he’d use one of those perfect fingers to pull the fabric down and …

“My name is Allegra,” I said, louder this time.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, “I’ve heard good things about your bakery.”

I had to stop this. I had to get free of his iron grip because he’d driven me to a place I didn’t like to go. I wouldn’t go. Not again.

Not ever.

I slipped my hand from beneath his and deliberately broke the spell, and he raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll get the cupcakes for you.” I got a box out and slipped two of the Red Velvet Raptures inside, then taped it closed and rang it up.

He handed me the money, but didn’t take his change or the box.

“Allegra.” My name fell from his lips, and he licked them shortly after he said it.

I stood and held the box out. Waiting. For him to take it. For something else. I was so bemused and pissed at my body’s traitorous reaction to his physical closeness that I just wanted him gone. Never to return. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah, actually,” he replied, finally taking the cupcakes. “A … date. Drinks? Dinner? Walk in the park? Whatever would make you happy.”

You.

“What?” I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip. “Sorry. I’m busy.” I had to cut this off before it got too far. I wasn’t ready for anything with anyone. Not a fling, and certainly not with a man who had the potential to reduce me to a puddle of quivering desire at the mere sight of him.

“I didn’t say when,” he said as his face burrowed into a frown and he clutched the box to his torso.

“I’m always busy. Brand new business. Fourteen hour days.” I stammered the excuses sounding ridiculous even to my own ears. I had to get away from him before I went up in flames of mortification so I waved my hand and fled to the kitchen. The double doors swooshed shut behind me, blocking off any more sightings of ‘Mr. Holy Shit That Man Is Fine’.

I hid in the kitchen until I heard the bell ring. He was gone.