No, no, no, no, I chant to myself as Leo approaches the table. He holds out a hand. I glare at it. He frowns. “Come on, Pop Tart, you’ve danced with every other man in this room tonight. I think it’s my turn.”

I set my champagne glass down on the linen cloth. “I think I’d rather gnaw off my own hand.”

“Ouch. That hurts, Poppy. It really does.”

“I’d consider chewing off my leg, too, but I may need them both to run away.”

“Oh, you are on fire tonight,” he says in that annoyingly husky tone that makes my lady parts tingle. “Such a shame you’ll be going back to your bungalow alone.”

I scowl. “Screw you.”

“Well I was only asking for a slow circle around the dance floor, but we can absolutely work screwing into the equation.” Leo licks his lips, and I shiver. I want to die. This cannot be happening. I can’t be attracted to the man whore. I just can’t. “Come on, Poppy, don’t let my little brother upstage me. Please?”

“Well, since you begged so nicely,” I say, placing my hand in his. He wastes no time in pulling me to my feet and leading me out onto the dancefloor.

Leo tugs me close—too close. Far closer than I’m comfortable with, and while I’m there pushed up against his big, firm body, I can’t breathe. He effortlessly moves us around the floor, and my cheeks burn when I catch a glimpse of our reflection in the huge windows overlooking the garden. We make a handsome couple. No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“You should know I’ve never needed to beg for anything, Pop Tart, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to now.”

My mouth gapes. What is he saying? This is not a thing that can happen. We are not crossing over to the dark side.

While I’m freaking out, Leo whisks us to the ballroom entrance, a small closed-in foyer separated by white gossamer curtains with two sets of doors leading into and away from the reception. Thank God, because I’ve never needed to flee a room full of people so fast in my life, and I’ve been in some pretty awkward situations.

He didn’t mean what he just said. It’s the island, or the salt water. It’s the magic of weddings—they make everyone crazy. It’s . . .

Leo leans in. My eyes grow round as saucers. The music dies away, and the sounds of the guests vanish as he grabs the nape of my neck and pulls me to him.

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. My mouth parts with a sharp intake of breath, and then his lips are on mine. His tongue tangles with mine, and me? Well, I do what any insane woman would do when a fine, god-like specimen shoved his tongue in her mouth. I shove mine in his right back. I wrap my leg around Leo’s hip. His hot hand slides beneath my thigh, pulling me closer. The anger, the heat, the passion between us is everything. All consuming.

Our kisses deepen. My hands sink into his hair, and I can’t get close enough. And then it dawns on me . . . I’m kissing Leo. After all this time and tension between us, the barbed comments, the bickering, and the anger have all led to this one place, and . . . Oh my God, I’m kissing Leo.

I shove away from him, but my foot gets tangled with his and my arms pinwheel as I attempt to stop myself falling. I reel back. Leo reaches out, and then we’re falling, fumbling, stumbling to the ground, only my ass doesn’t hit hardwood but something wet and soft and much more smooshable. I glance at the ceiling, panicked and praying that this is all just some terrible nightmare. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, shit.” Leo. Freaking. Nass. The man who’s tormented me since we were kids in high school. The man who drove a wedge between the groom and me. The man who puts the whore in man whore, and who doesn’t believe in marriage, true love, or even a second date leans up on his elbows and looks upon me with the sort of hunger akin to a wild lion’s. Well, Simba be damned. This little lioness is about to show him the meaning of fear.

“GET. OFF!” I shove at his chest. Leo scrambles to his feet and offers a hand to me. I sit up, slap it away, and hiss, “What the hell did you do?”

“What did I do?” He straightens, and surveys the crime scene around me. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one laying in five pounds of buttercream.”

“It’s ganache, you ass.” I shake my head. Leo chuckles. He freaking chuckles. “I’m sorry, but I don’t find any of this funny.”

“Well that’s because you’re not looking at it from the right angle.” He tilts his head as if he’s trying to get a better look at my lady bits. I snap my knees together so I’m not giving him a show, then—not without a few attempts on the Slip ’N Slide—I finally get to my feet. Frosting flies from my hands all around the small room as I make like Taylor Swift and shake it off.

“Oh my God, I’m ruined. This is . . . I’m never gonna work again. That promotion is going to go right out the window and I’ll have to resign. I’ll wind up alone, a crazy cat lady who ruins weddings.”

“Okay, Pop Tart, breathe.”

“Don’t call me Pop Tart,” I shout, then lower my voice so as not to draw any of the revelers from the ballroom. I point my finger in Leo’s face and a chunk of frosting flies off and lands right next to his mouth. His tongue darts out to lick it away, and my breath catches. “This is all your fault.”

Wait. Back up. Hold on a goddamn minute here. My breath shouldn’t catch when I’m with Nass the Ass. It shouldn’t . . . I’m not . . . oh my God. What is he doing?

Leo takes hold of my hand, and sucks my finger into his mouth. I make a sound halfway between a gasp of horror and a moan, and he releases my finger with a pop and leans in.

For the second time in as many minutes, time slows down. Leo moves in slow motion toward me, and I swallow hard.

A loud British screech comes from the doorway and Katherine is there with the stupid earpiece in her ear. Leo pulls her into the foyer and closes the doors to the reception area, then stalks across the room to the entryway and shuts those doors too. I’m locked in a room with my archenemies and a ruined wedding cake. I can’t breathe. I can’t . . .

“What did you do?” Katherine screeches.

“Keep your voice down,” Leo says. I glance between the two of them, and suddenly, I’m feeling strangely lightheaded. My legs go out from under me, but Leo moves like a bolt of lightning, crossing the room to hold me upright. I’m not sure why. All I really want to do is sink into the ruins of that cake and cry myself to sleep—while I eat the frosting, because it would be an awful shame to waste it. 

“Did you do this on purpose?” Katherine demands.

“What?” I hiss back.

“I know Chase left you at the altar, but would you really stoop this low?”

“Hey, this wasn’t her fault,” Leo says.

“No, it wasn’t,” I agree. “It was yours.”

“Sure,” Katherine says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Because that makes sense as to why you’re the one wearing the cake.”

“He kissed me,” I protest.

Katherine dials a number on the screen. “I don’t care.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Jacinta. Who else?”

I shake my head, and grab her arm. My hand is covered in frosting, so it slips off easily, leaving a smear of ganache in its wake. “Oh my God, you can’t call her.”

“Uh, yeah, I can.” She raises the phone to her ear. “Jacinta, we have a code red. I repeat, this is a code red.” There’s a beat of silence, and then Katherine launches into a tale about me deliberately sabotaging this wedding and ruining the cake. She thrusts the phone at me, and I grapple for purchase with my slippery hands and hold it to my ear. “She wants to talk to you.”

“I didn’t intend to ruin it, I swear.”

“Poppy, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” Jacinta’s voice comes through the receiver, and it’s not the tone she usually takes with me but then again, it’s not every day I ruin the cake at one of her weddings. I’m getting fired for sure. “Please don’t fire me. I know. I messed up bad. So bad. Colossally bad, but Jacinta, please, I can fix this. I don’t know how, but I—”

“Stop talking,” she snaps, and I do because she gives good boss voice. “I like you, Poppy. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear, but if it gets out that my second ruined the cake—a cake my clients spent thousands of dollars on—I will be ruined. Which means that you, too, will be ruined. Now, I’m sure you didn’t intend to destroy their wedding cake. I know it’s not in you to do that. I’ve also seen how you look at the best man.” Jacinta sighs. My eyes widen, and I turn away from Leo, hoping like hell he didn’t just hear that. “So, if I’m correct—and I suspect I am because when am I ever wrong? I can honestly say that he had something to do with this. I don’t believe it was intentional from either one of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that we now have a ruined cake, and around an hour before said cake is cut. So, find a way to fix it or you’re fired.”

“I-I won’t let you down, Jacinta.”

“I’m hoping you’re right, because both of our livelihoods depend on it,” she says, and hangs up. Katherine snatches the phone from me and walks out of the foyer into the main building, the door slamming closed behind her.

Leo takes a step toward me. “What are you going to do?”

I stare at the big, dumb, jerk who caused this entire mess, and I shake my head. I have no freaking clue.

“Give me your suit jacket.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Hand it over before I run this through your heart,” I say, grabbing one of the frosting-covered dowels from inside the cake.

Leo flinches and removes his jacket, passing it to me. I glance at the tag. Armani. No wonder he didn’t want to hand it over.

I slide my arms into each hole and shrug it on. It’s miles too big but I stomp through the doors that Katherine exited only moments ago and hit up the first bellman I find. He agrees to tidy the mess as quickly as possible, even suggesting to post an attendant inside the ballroom so they can divert any guests wishing to sneak away.

I hold my hand out to Leo, and he stares at it. “Wallet, now.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t wanna.”

“Leo . . .”

“Why do I have to take care of this shit?”

“Because you were the dumbass who got us into this mess, and you’re going to get us out.”

His brows shoot into his hairline, but he hands over a soft caviar-print leather wallet and I glance at the engraved logo. Also Armani. Well, now it’s ganache-covered Armani, but I’m sure it’s delicious.

I open the wallet and take out two one hundred-dollar bills and hand one to the bellman. “One for now, and you’ll get the second when you’ve kept them away from that disaster area.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, tucking the Benjamin in his pocket.

I hand Leo’s wallet back and head for the exit. He follows close behind. “What are you doing?”

“I’m changing, because I can’t exactly walk back in that room covered in frosting.”

“Good point. So, I’ll just come with you, and you can get naked, and—”

“You’re lucky I’m not killing you right now, but I’m not letting you out of my sight until you fix what you broke.”

“What I broke?” His tone is incredulous. “If I recall it was your ass sitting on their cake, not mine.”

“You pushed me.”

“No, you pushed me. It’s not my fault you fell over your own feet.”

“You kissed me,” I hiss.

“Yeah, and you kissed me back.”

I sigh, because he’s right and I know I won’t win. Not against Nass the Ass. “It doesn’t matter. You were the one who leaned in.”

“Yeah, and you were the one who wrapped your hot little thighs around me.”

“Okay, it was one leg, and I didn’t really wrap it around you so much as I just kind of rested it on your hip.”

“Oh, you wrapped it. I could feel your grumpy cat trying to get closer to my cock.”

“Will you please stop talking?” We head outside to the bungalows, and I remove my shoes so I can walk faster. I have around an hour before everything turns to shit. I don’t have my phone with me on account of it being on the table where I left it when Leo asked me to dance, so I can’t call Katherine and get her to stall, which is why I need to be in and out. “Can you walk faster? You’d think with legs as long as yours, you’d be a bit quicker than you are.”

“Geez, Pop Tart. If I’d known you were in such a hurry to get me alone in your bungalow I would have just come last night. Oh wait, I did come last night.”

I gasp and turn to glare at him. “Tell me you did not masturbate while I was sleeping beside you. On second thoughts, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“I didn’t, but I did whack it in your bathroom after I put you to bed.”

“Oh my God, there is seriously something wrong with you.”

“Yeah, it’s called Poppy Porter Is A Giant Pain In My Ass And Yet I Can’t Seem To Stay Away. Which leads me to ... why the hell am I here if we’re not getting naked?”

“Because I need help getting out of this hideous dress.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say so?”

“Like I could get a damn word in edgewise with your big mouth.” I stop in front of my door.

“Hey, speaking of mouth, remember that time you put yours on mine and shoved your tongue inside?” His breath stirs the tendrils of hair that have come loose from my chignon as I fish the keycard out of my bra, slide it in the lock, and step inside. “Wanna do that again?”

Yes. God help me, yes. Now that I have him alone in my bungalow all I want is to shove him down on the bed and take advantage on him.

What is wrong with me? It must be the residual high from last night’s cough medicine and champagne combo. It has to be, because the most infuriating man I’ve ever known just shoved his tongue in my mouth and successfully ruined my best friend’s wedding, and I want to bury his boner inside me. “No. Not ever.”

“Okay, well, I’d be an idiot to believe that. Because ten minutes ago I figured out your problem isn’t with me—it’s with the fact that you want me just as much as I want you.” He snakes his arms around my waist from behind and kisses the nape of my neck.

A ragged breath leaves my lungs, but I shrug out of his embrace and attempt to remove his jacket. It doesn’t budge. It’s stuck with all the ganache, and I can’t get it off.

Leo moves toward me again. “Do you want me to help you out of your clothes or not?”

I sigh and allow him to grab my lapel. He slowly peels the jacket from my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor in a heap. I swallow hard as I glance up at him. He trails a finger over my collarbone. I’m just about to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing when he lifts it to his mouth and licks the frosting off. I let out a deep, shaky breath and turn, lifting my hair so he can undo my dress. His hands are insanely warm against my flesh. The silk fabric is stuck to my back, and I might love cake, but I don’t love it this much. Leo’s hands trail lower as he unzips me. He attempts to slide the material off my body, but I clutch it close to my chest and whisper, “I can take it from here.”

“You know it’s really rather cruel of you to allow a man to unwrap a gift, and not let him enjoy what’s on the inside.”

“You know what’s worse? Taking liberties with a woman you have no right to take. Like that kiss. It almost always ends in disaster.” I walk toward the bathroom, content to let him stew on that, but there’s just one problem. These bungalows are built for couples, meaning there’s no lock on the door. I need to shower to rid myself of all this frosting, but Nass the Ass is in my room and while I may already be halfway there, I have no intention of getting naked in front of him. Again. The only thing I can do is keep him busy. “Will you grab that black lace gown from the closet?”

He gives me a wicked grin. “Are you trying to distract me, Pop Tart?”

“That obvious?”

“You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer, babe, but don’t worry. I’m not gentleman enough to care if you don’t want to get naked in front of me. Besides, I saw everything last night, and I do mean everything.”

“Such an asshole.”

“Admit it—that’s why your wildly attracted to me, isn’t it?”

I close the door, run the water and hop in, though it’s barely heated up yet. I could do with a cold, harsh dose of reality. I wash my body as quickly as I can without ruining my makeup and then I turn and see Leo standing outside the shower stall.

“Oh my God.” I shut off the water, and attempt to cover my body from view. “You’re such a creeper.”

“Guilty,” he says, holding my towel out to me. I snatch it off him and cover myself, but it’s not nearly protection enough. “Got your dress.”

“Great, now get out.”

“Fucking cock tease.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you went all Psycho on me and stood outside the shower to watch. Should I be worried about that bulge in your pants?”

“Oh, it’s definitely not a knife. More like a sword, a broadsword. Of the meat variety.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re fucking sexy as hell.” He takes a step toward me, but I raise my hand in a warding gesture. I can’t remove the other one because it’s the only thing keeping my towel in place.

“We need to fix this.”

“Can we do it after we fuck?”

“Can you just leave so I can get dressed?”

“You don’t need me to unzip you?” He shakes his head. “I mean, zip you up?”

“Oh, yeah, actually I do. Turn around.”

He rolls his eyes and gives me his back. “You know I just saw everything two seconds ago, right?” When I don’t respond, he adds, “So how exactly do we fix this? It’s not like there’s going to be another cake lying around, and the one you smashed isn’t going to get fixed any time soon.”

“Well, if someone hadn’t tried to rape my mouth, we might not be in this predicament.”

“It’s not rape if it’s consensual, Poppy.”

“You didn’t know it was consensual.”

“Yeah, I did. You were giving fuck-me eyes long before I put my mouth on yours, and I believe it was you who shoved your tongue in my mouth first.”

“Um, no, it wasn’t,” I protest. Leo turns around, probably hoping to get another eyeful, but he’s out of luck. He frowns, confirming what I suspected. “Can you do—”

“Can I do you? Yes,” he mutters. “All fucking night, and like you’ve never been done before.”

I ignore the shiver that runs the length of my spine. “Just do me up please.”

“God, you’re such a fucking killjoy. I’m beginning to see why you’re single.”

His gaze rolls over me, taking in my sheer Ellie Saab gown with a low whistle. “Jesus, Pop Tart, you could kill a man with a dress like that. All the blood in my body just travelled straight to my dick.”

My gaze dips to the appendage in question. I gulp. “So, um ... we should—”

“Fuck?”

“Go ... we should go.”

He chuckles and heads for the door, pulling it open for me. “Ladies first. Though, you might want to walk on ahead of me. I’d hate for you to feel my broadsword pressing into your back.”

I roll my eyes and slip into my heels before stepping out into the balmy heat. “You’re not that big, Leo.”

“Hey, he’s a grower, not a shower. Like Pinocchio.”

“Oh, so he only gets long and hard when you lie?”

He cringes. “Okay, that was a shitty analogy. I’ll admit it.”

I laugh. “It really was, but you’re forgiven on account of all the blood rushing to your penis and making you stupider than you were before.”

“Stupider? Ouch, Pop Tart. You really know how to hit a man when he’s down. Say, speaking of being on your knees, you wanna try and alleviate our little problem?”

“Our problem? I fail to see how this is our problem.”

“Trust me, you in this dress makes it our problem. You know you’re not wearing any underwear, right?”

“I can’t wear underwear with a dress like this. I’d have a visible panty line.”

He tilts his head to the side to check out my ass. “Right now, you have visible everything, and I’m having a hard time controlling my visible boner.”

“Oh my God, you’re like a small child.”

“A small child with a boner? Something about that sounds pedophilic.”

“Can we just focus on finding a way to fix the damn cake?”

Leo’s quiet for once, and I hope like hell it’s because he’s dialing the Maldives version of Uber Eats and ordering us a new cake. “Okay, I know you’re some kind of cake freak who bought her apartment only because it’s in prime location to Magnolia Bakery, but seriously, it’s not like back home. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. A house is not just going to fall out of the sky and land on the bitchy bridezilla.”

I stop dead, and turn to face him. “Leo, you’re a genius.”

“I am?” He glances suspiciously at me. “I mean ... I am, but what specifically are we celebrating my genius over? Because I’m pretty sure murdering the woman who stole your ex-fiancé at her wedding is still illegal in the Maldives.”

“I’m not going to kill Claire, and there may not be a Magnolia Bakery here, but it is the number-one destination for wedding-cations.”

“Wedding what?”

“Come on. Just follow my lead.” I grab his hand. I’m not sure why, but I don’t let go as I lead him toward the hotel.

When me make it to the reception, Katherine accosts us. “Where the hell have you been? Jacinta said you were supposed to fix this mess and suddenly you disappear to what? Have sex with Thor here?”

Leo laughs. “Thor? That’s a first. I do have a heavy magical hammer though, so ... I guess it’s not too much of a stretch.”

“I have a plan,” I tell Katherine.

“Then you better start talking. I have wedding guests complaining about not being able to leave the room via the main exit.”

“I need you to stall.”

“What?”

“Please, just half an hour.”

She shakes her head and folds her arms across her chest. “You better fix this, Poppy. I am not going down for your mistake, and if I don’t make partner it’s all on you.”

If she doesn’t make partner it will likely be because she isn’t as good at this job as I am, but I don’t say that because I can’t afford to draw any more attention to us and we’re almost out of time.

“I accept full responsibility for ruining the cake,” I say. I can’t help but notice that Leo raises his brows skyward and I want so badly to punch the big lug in the face, but I refrain because I’m going to need my hands if this goes according to plan. “Now please, will you just go?”

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“Absolutely.” I gently nudge her in the direction of the ballroom.

“Come on,” I say to Leo once she’s gone. “I might need you to punch someone for me.”

“What?”

I don’t bother answering. He’ll find out soon enough.

I stalk toward the hotel reception. The man operating the desk is young, probably no older than twenty-five, and he watches me with his mouth hanging open as I stride toward him. This dress has that effect on most men. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t bring it for that very reason.

“Hi,” I say in my sexiest tone of voice. I glance down at the man’s name tag. “Tigre—wow that’s a great name. Are you from the island?”

“I’m from Boston, ma’am.”

“Oh, go Cubs.”

“That’s Chicago.”

“Right.” I give him a sheepish smile. His eyes roam my chest. Nass the Ass clears his throat behind me. “So, I’m one of the planners for the wedding taking place in the great hall, and I need to fetch something from the kitchen. Would you be a doll and tell me where I might find it?”

“I can have something brought out for you if you need, ma’am?”

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I’m looking for something very specific. One of the cake toppers took a tumble and he’s probably back in the fridge. It won’t take me long to find it.”

“Well, normally we don’t allow guests to wander the kitchen.”

“Please? It’s an emergency.”

“Her ass is gonna get fired if she doesn’t go. Isn’t that right, baby?” Leo makes a show of grabbing said ass and squeezing. I smile, resisting the urge to turn and sock him one in the nose.

“That’s true,” I say, moving away from his grasp, but he pulls me back against him and wraps his arms around my waist as he nuzzles my neck. My skin turns to gooseflesh and my nipples poke out through the thin lace of my dress. Tigre notices too, it seems. So I take the opportunity to finally get what I came for. “The kitchen?”

“Uh, it’s down the hall. Turn left at the bank of elevators, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much,” I purr, feeling the first strains of guilt because I hope that he doesn’t get fired. As soon as we’re down the corridor and out of sight, I turn on Leo. “What the hell was that?”

“Just playing my part. Although, was I supposed to punch him? I couldn’t tell with your mixed signals.”

“Mixed signals?”

“Yeah. What was with the lowered voice? Were you afraid your parents might hear you?”

“I was flirting with him.”

He screws up his nose. “That was you flirting? You’re terrible at it.”

“Well, you weren’t helping, grabbing my ass and making me ...” Woah, there lassie. It’s not like you can tell him he turned you on with that wicked mouth of his. “You practically assaulted me in front of him.”

He shrugs. “I thought we were trying to make him jealous.”

“Why? The point was to get into the kitchen, not have us locked up for indecent exposure.”

“I think you might still be at risk of that.” Leo’s gaze slides down to my nipples that are poking at my dress. I cover my chest with my arms folded across it. He laughs, and I stalk off toward the kitchen.

“So, what exactly is our plan here?”

“We’re going to steal a wedding cake.”

Leo stops in his tracks. “What?”

“There’s a wedding here in two days. No one in their right mind would wait this long to have their cake brought across from the main island in case of bad weather.”

“And that means?”

“That there will most definitely be another cake in that kitchen. Likely in the cooler, but we can work with that.”

He searches my gaze. “We’re really going to do this?”

“What part of ‘my job is on the line’ did you not understand, Leo?”

“But what about the other couple?”

I stare in disbelief. “Oh, now you grow a conscience?”

He shrugs. “Well you’re the one who was banging on about how important the cake is.”

“And that’s exactly why we have to fix this mess.”

“Right.” While Leo is looking at me as if I’ve just lost my damn mind, the door to our left swings open and a tiny Maldivian man exits the kitchen. He gives us a surprised look and hurries on his way. He’s about half the size of Leo—on a good day—but he’ll have to do. I glance at Leo. He stares blankly back. I widen my eyes and nod in the man’s direction as he walks down the corridor. Leo gives me that slack-jawed stupid face, and I gesture wildly to the man and then make like I’m slicing my throat.

“Are you crazy? I’m not murdering a man over cake,” he hisses.

“Not murder him, just ... you know, steal his clothes. Put the sleeper on or something.” I wave my hand.

“Put the sleeper on? What am I, James Bond?”

“You wish. I’m sorry but in what universe could Nass the Ass be James Bond?”

His brow furrows. “That’s what you call me? Nass the Ass?”

“Can you just do something, please? He’s getting away.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” He holds up his hands. “We’re in a busy hotel.”

“Oh my God, do I have to do everything myself?”

“When it comes to killing a man over a cake, then yeah, you’re on your own.”

I stalk down the hall at a clipped pace. The man from the kitchen is almost at the end of the corridor, but thankfully he appears to be texting on his phone. He stops, his head bent low, and I pounce, jumping on his back like a monkey and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Leo curses from behind me, but I don’t have any breath to respond because I’m busy fighting with the tiny Asian man who probably knows karate now that I think about it. Leo yanks me off him and puts the man in a chokehold, pulling him back down the corridor as the man struggles in his grasp, his face turning beet red. “Get the door.”

“What door?”

“Any door, Poppy. Any fucking door.”

I push against the door closest to me. It’s a small supply closet. The tiny chef is no longer struggling, but has gone lax in Leo’s arms.

Leo lays him down on the ground, gently. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Um, hello? ‘Ruined wedding cake’ ringing any bells?”

“So you thought you’d jump on some poor, unsuspecting bastard on his break, and what? Demand he take us to the kitchen when he wakes?”

“No, dumbass.” I fold my arms across my chest. “We’re stealing his clothes.”

“You are out of your goddamned mind.” Leo leans forward, getting in my face. I get all up in his right back.

“Maybe, but I’m a desperate woman.”

“Does getting this promotion mean that much to you?”

“It’s not just the promotion. I’m going to lose my apartment if I don’t get it.”

“What?” He straightens.

I let out a huge puff of air. My shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m broke, Leo.”

“Then ask your parents for money, like everyone else in Manhattan.”

“No. I’m not doing that. They already think I’m flushing my education down the toilet. I will not give them the satisfaction.”

“But you’ll risk going to jail for a cake?” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, there are better ways to go about this. I’ll give you the money. Or you can move in with me and Jas.”

I just glare at him. He nods, as if accepting that as the worse idea he’s ever had. “Are you going to help me with this or not?”

Leo sighs and gives me a resigned smile. “Alright, my little evil mastermind, we’ve come this far. What exactly are we going to do now?”

“Strip him.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’m sure as hell not taking off a complete stranger’s clothing,” I say, matter-of-fact. “You do it all the time. It should be easy for you.”

He narrows his eyes. “First of all, I undress strange women all the time, not men, and I’m a little insulted by that, Pop Tart.”

“Yes, well, the truth hurts.” I gesture to the man. “You’re wasting time, and he isn’t going to strip himself.”

Leo scowls and mutters something under his breath that I don’t quite catch, though I’m pretty sure it was close to ‘her pussy better be made of fucking unicorns and rainbows for all this shit’. I decide to ignore that comment, because my pussy is made of unicorns and rainbows, and he’ll only get a closer look at the majesty of my lady bits if he can make it through a whole evening without being a total jerk.

When Leo finally has the man’s pants and jacket off, he looks to me for what I assume is further direction. “You need to put them on.”

“Me?” He shakes his head. “Oh, no. I’m not wearing some strange dude’s clothes; besides, they won’t fit me. They’d fit you. Haven’t you always wanted to get into a chef’s pants?”

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “I’m not wearing a strange man’s pants.”

“Well, neither am I, so it looks like we kidnapped and knocked out this nice gentleman for no reason.”

“Please, Leo?” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes. He screws up his face, and I’m not sure if that means he’s succumbing to my cuteness, or if he’s repelled because I look like a Muppet. Either way, I keep begging. “Pleeeeeeease?”

He exhales loudly. “You owe me.”

“Okay, sure.”

“No, I’m serious. You’re gonna owe me big time.”

I cringe. “Like how big ... exactly?”

“Ben-Hur kind of big.” His eyes smolder as he takes a step toward me.

I place a hand on his chest, halting him from coming any closer. “Ben-Hur?”

“Another shot at that kiss. One where you don’t pull away, and we see what happens.”

“What?” I shake my head and back up, but the room is only so big, and the space between us isn’t far enough. “No. No way.”

“Then no cake, which also means no pro—”

“Fine. One more kiss, but not until we pull this off.”

“Done,” he says, unfastening his belt and the button of his suit pants. I watch on, mesmerized. Leo raises a brow at me and gives a half-smile. “Not gonna lie, Pop Tart, if you’re going to stand there and watch me undress, I might be taking that kiss sooner than you planned.”

I avert my gaze, then I cover my eyes with my hand just to ensure I don’t accidentally peek.

“I can’t wear this,” Leo says. “I look ridiculous.”

I remove my hand from my face. Leo looks like one of the Lost Boys who grew out of his clothes too quickly. His chest appears to be restricted by the jacket that was loose on our Maldivian friend, and it looks as if he’s been poured into the pants. There isn’t enough fabric to cover his calves. I press my lips together to keep my laughter at bay, but it bursts free anyway.

“Right, deal’s off.”

“No,” I gasp, attempting to rein in my laughter. “I’m sorry. I’m—” I lose it again. Leo is not impressed. He glares at me as I wipe the tears away from my face. “I’m good.”

“I can’t go in there like this.”

“Of course you can, and we probably only have a few minutes left before he wakes up, so let’s get to it.”

“Goddamn, woman. Are you this demanding in bed?”

“Oh, I’m far more demanding in bed. You should just give up on any dreams of us sleeping together because there is no pleasing me. Come on.” I gather his discarded suit and poke my head through the door. The hall is empty, so I sneak out and carefully open the first door I find. Tossing Leo’s belongings inside, I follow him toward the kitchen. As we enter, there’s a small room with basins and several signs depicting people washing their hands. I glance at the line of chef’s jackets hanging on hooks just inside the door. Leo shoots me a look that says he’s going to murder me. I shrug and allow him to go first, but I make sure my voice is loud enough for the other kitchen staff to hear. “I already told you, I need that cake now.”

“Err . . .” Leo looks flustered. I widen my eyes and give him the ‘get with the program, idiot’ stare. “Right, but you can’t be in here.”

“You listen to me, buddy. If I don’t deliver that cake right this second, my bride is going to have a meltdown the likes of which you’ve never seen, so get to it.”

“Okay, just um—”

“Ugh.” I turn to the other chefs and shake my head. “Where do you keep the wedding cakes? I need it now.” A young chef closest to us raises an arm and points to a large cool room at the back of the kitchen.  “Thank you. Finally, someone who’s not incompetent.” I grab Leo’s lapel and say, “You. Show me.”

“O-o-okay,” he says, heading for the cool room. With my back ramrod straight and my brain sounding off alarms about how this will never work, I follow close behind.

Once we’re inside, I find it. There in the corner sits a huge three-tiered blush and gold-leaf cake. I glance around, searching through the cooler’s contents, then I snag a tub of vanilla buttercream from off the shelf.

“Leave them some money,” I say.

“What?”

“Leave them some money.”

Leo’s brow furrows. I swear it’s like this man is more and more confused every time I open my mouth? “Why?”

“So they can afford a new cake.”

“So, what? Like, one hundred bucks?”

I give him an impatient look. “Add another zero.”

“A thousand dollars for a cake? That’s insanity.”

“It’s like I don’t even know you,” I say, shaking my head. “Now, pull out your goddamn wallet, leave them a big old chunk of cash, and let’s get out of here before anyone discovers the unconscious man in the room across the hall.”

Leo chews his lip, then he pulls his wallet from his pocket and counts out several crisp Benjamins, leaving them on the shelf. Any wedding planner worth her salt would check on the cake as soon as she arrives on the island, so I have no doubt the kitchen will be getting another visit soon.  “You know you’re scary as hell when you’re mad, Pop Tart.”

“You should see me when I’m premenstrual.”

“You mean it gets worse?”

I smile sweetly. “Much, much worse.”

He grimaces. We grab a few tools on the way out and exit the kitchen with our goodies in tow. In the hall, I pull Leo into the room where I stashed his suit. It’s a smaller space than the one our wedding is currently being held in. I pull a table from the side of the room, and he sets the cake on it before I get to work, carefully chipping away at the gold-leaf tier. I grab the tub of buttercream, slide the knife in, and work the frosting until it’s soft and malleable. If I lose my job, maybe Magnolia Bakery will hire me. I’ve always wanted to know how they get that swirl in their frosting perfect each and every time. Too bad I’ve burned everything I’ve ever cooked.

I slap the frosting on the top layer of the cake and scrape off the excess, working the buttercream just enough so it warms the already set layer of frosting underneath. Then I scrape it right back so some of the crumb beneath is showing. I repeat the actions with the bottom layer and with a little tweaking to the middle tier, it’s a distressed, shabby chic cake just like the one Claire always wanted. It’s nothing like the cake Chase made me order, but perhaps today is a good day for him to learn that you don’t always get everything you want.

“Okay, what now?”

“Now, you get changed, and we carry this thing to the damn ballroom before anyone notices what the hell has happened.”

I turn to give him some privacy, but for some reason Leo finds this hilarious. Ignoring him, I open the door a fraction and peak out. The hallway is eerily quiet. “Looks like our friend’s still out cold. Do you think maybe we should tell someone he’s there?”

“No, that would lead to questions we don’t need, and possible jail time. He’ll be fine.”

I turn and glower at Leo. His shirt is open with his bow tie slung around the collar. I’m having a hard time concentrating on what he just said because the hard lines of his stomach are seriously distracting. He buttons up. I pout. He grins. I scowl, then I step forward and pull him closer by either end of the bow tie. His eyes turn molten. “Little eager aren’t you, Pop Tart?”

“I’m not trying to kiss you, dumbass. I’m helping you with your bow tie.”

“Well, that’s mighty nice of you, but can we do that after we kiss?”

“No. You haven’t upheld your part of the bargain yet.”

“I knocked some small Maldivian man unconscious, stripped him naked, and got in his pants. I’d say I upheld my part of the bargain several times over.”

“The deal was that you’d help me get the cake to the ballroom. Then you’ll get your kiss.”

“You should know, no woman has ever stopped at just one kiss with me.”

I loop one end of the tie over the other, and pull it tight. Somehow, I fight the urge to choke him with it. “I think I’ll find some way to resist.”

“You can’t.” He grins, taking my hand from his tie and pressing a soft kiss to it. “I’m irresistible. Everybody says so.”

I roll my eyes and jerk my hand away. I nod toward the cake to indicate that he should pick up the other side of it. He works his hands underneath the board and takes its full weight. I scurry over to the door and open it, and within minutes we’re through the lobby, and placing it on the fresh linen cloth covering the cake table at the entrance to the ballroom.

“Where have you been?” Katherine demands as I begin pulling blush roses from the vase on the table. I snap off the stems and arrange the lush heads on top of the cake. Now it’s perfect. Katherine takes the empty vase I hand her and passes it off to Leo. “Claire’s been in full bridezilla mode wondering why we’re holding her guests hostage and won’t let them through the doors.”

“I’ve been finding us a new cake.”

“That isn’t anything like the one they ordered.”

“No, it’s not. But it is the one Claire has wanted her whole life,” I say.

Katherine looks suitably pissed. She didn’t think I could do it. She didn’t think I could pull this off.

“You might want to call Jacinta back and tell her I fixed everything.”

“Why don’t we let the bride and groom be the judge of that.” She gives me an acidic smile and pushes the doors open. An angry army of wedding guests and flustered staff greet us.

I gulp, and glance at Leo before heading into the lion’s den. I promised Jacinta I would fix it. Given that we had to kidnap, assault, and strip a man naked to do it—not to mention piss off one hundred and thirty wedding guests in the process—I may have just made the entire thing worse. Either way, there’s nothing to be done for it now.