Cassie tucked the cell phone between her shoulder and her ear as she scooped the last of the cream cheese frosting into a pastry bag. Multitasking was a necessity when it came to her tenth straight hour in the kitchen. Not to mention it was Olivia’s third phone call of the day. Honestly, she worried about Cassie more than her own mother did and that was saying something. Then again, maybe she was just secretly hoping one of the calls would find her basking in a post-coital glow, powdered sugar hand prints pressed firmly into her thigh and a satisfied smile plastered across her face. Yeah, fat chance of that. The only basking Cassie was going to be doing was in a hot bath, and even that was severely behind schedule. But icing the tray of replacement cupcakes was the last thing on the day’s list. With any luck she’d be in the tub before midnight.

“Have you eaten anything today?” her best friend asked. Olivia knew her better than anyone else in the world, which meant she already knew the answer to that question. Asking was just her way of showing concern. Cassie was just about to answer when Olivia added, “And no, frosting does not count as a food group.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Hardly.” Olivia laughed. “How is old Judy doing?”

“Good, I guess.” One by one Cassie squeezed intricate swirls onto the rows of miniature cupcakes. “I’ve barely seen her.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Jude we know and love,” Olivia said, hitting the nail on the head. Growing up, Cassie’s mom had been what some would call a helicopter parent. And while part of her understood her mother’s need to “hover” and protect, another part of her wanted to break free and live her own life. Which was why when it came to choosing a college, and then later a job, she’d focused on options that had offered at least a fifty-mile buffer zone.

“No kidding. But she’s been pretty much glued at the hip with Emily’s mom.”

“Full schedule of hat events?”

Cassie frowned. “Hat events?”

“You know, teas, brunches, that sort of thing.”

“Exactly.” She gave a small laugh. “Plus, she probably figures she’ll never be the mother-of-the-bride so might as well make the most of the mother-of-the-groom thing while she’s got the chance.”

“Will you stop it? And stop changing the subject too. Back to the food. Tell me you’ve at least had a sandwich or something?”

Cassie piped a spiral pattern onto the last cupcake. “I haven’t even left the building and there’s not much here that isn’t sugar based.” She set the pastry bag on the counter and dipped her finger through a streak of frosting that remained on the side of the bowl. At least it was cream cheese, she thought as she tasted it. A bit of dairy had to count for something.

“I should have ordered you a pizza. I could have requested they send their hottest delivery guy. Maybe he could have helped get your weekend started.”

Cassie rolled her eyes even though she knew the reaction would be lost over the phone. Didn’t matter really, Olivia was only joking about a fling with a pizza delivery guy—at least she hoped she was only joking. Although to be fair, there had been a hot stranger in Cassie’s kitchen, he just hadn’t stuck around long enough for there to be action against the refrigerator or anywhere else for that matter. Although not from a lack of invitation.

What in the world had she been thinking? They’d exchanged what, maybe four or five lines of conversation? And all of them had been directions. Well, except for the part where she’d inadvertently gone all sex kitten and offered him a taste. Cassie cringed. She didn’t know which was worse, her cheesy pick-up line or the fact that it had worked. Scratch that, the worst part was how pleased she’d been when it did. She had no idea where all that had come from. The words just sort of bubbled up and out of her mouth before she’d even had time to consider them. But the fact remained that when they had, Cassie’d felt more alive than she had in months. Years, maybe. Suggesting a casual encounter with a handsome stranger was a page out of someone else’s life, not hers. Yet there was no denying the fact that it had been downright liberating. She’d felt sexy and wanton and totally free. Perhaps there’d been a floozy trapped inside her all along and she’d been suffocating the poor thing beneath turtleneck sweaters.

“Nothing wrong with pepperoni and mushroom served with a side of—”

“How is it you can make every situation sound like a setup for a porno?” Cassie asked. Her words were laced with laughter but in reality it was taking everything she had to block out the image of Mr. Georgia Baseball Cap holding a pizza while wearing nothing but a smile.

“And how many porns have you watched exactly?”

“One.”

Olivia snorted. “Fifty Shades of Grey was not porn.”

“Well it sure wasn’t PG-13.”

“Okay, grandma.”

Cassie sighed. Olivia was right. And more than sounding like she was eighty years old, she felt like it too. How in the world had her life become so boring? It wasn’t always like this. In college she’d had fun. Granted, not as much as some of the other kids, but then again they weren’t all pursuing a combined degree on an accelerated schedule. Still, she used to be more fun than she was now. Even hard-working college Cassie, who was the only twenty-one year old with an IRA, cut loose from time to time. But aside from the bachelorette party weekend she’d spent in Vegas with Olivia, she’d become a droll version of even her former self, something she hadn’t thought possible. Her professional life might have taken a definite turn for the better, but her personal life was in desperate need of resuscitation.

For a brief moment there had been a tiny flicker of a spark. When her handsome stranger had dropped his gaze to her mouth, she’d felt her heart begin to race; and when he’d dipped his head and she’d felt his warm breath against her lips, her knees had nearly buckled. But instead of claiming her mouth with a kiss that would have no doubt left her reeling, he’d waited, his eyes searching hers as if asking a question. Yes. Yes was the answer. Whatever the question.

But then the stupid fire alarm went off and, just like the last batch of cupcakes, Cassie’s fantasy went up in smoke. Even the memory shot a pang of disappointment through her belly.

She’d have thought a little distance would have brought a little clarity, but instead of coming to her senses and being relieved at narrowly dodging the walk-of-shame express, Cassie found herself filled with nothing but regret. If only she could somehow rewind time . . .

“How much more do you have to do?”

“Hmm?” Cassie asked. She’d been so distracted by her salacious thoughts, she hadn’t heard a word Olivia had said.

“You were thinking about sex.”

Cassie’s face flamed as though she’d been caught in the act. “Was not.”

Olivia laughed. “Don’t bother denying it, that little squeak in your voice was a dead giveaway.”

Damn. Cassie could never keep anything from Olivia. She could read her like a book. Although to be fair she wasn’t thinking about sex per se, more the lack there of, something that seemed to occupy her thoughts far too often lately.

“So how much longer?”

“Till I have sex? Not looking good. But I could go for that pizza.” Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

“No, how much longer till I can spring you from jail?”

“Oh, um, well I just finished the last of the cupcakes so—”

“Wait, I thought you said you were wrapping those up the last time we talked?”

Cassie braced for an overreaction, then confessed. “Had a bit of a fire.”

“What?!”

“Long story, but it doesn’t matter because everything’s fine and I’m all caught up now.” She spoke quickly, in the hopes of preventing Amateur Detective Ramsey-Grant from digging any deeper. “Tomorrow I just have to finish up Matthew’s cake and put the finishing touches on the wedding cake.” The fondant adornments were already made, which meant all she had to do was frost and assemble the three-tier cake. “So I should be good to go long before the rehearsal.”

“Great, because I was hoping to steal you away for a mani-pedi.”

“That might be cutting it close, but let me see how much I can get done. What time are you getting here?”

“Sometime late tomorrow morning. Cole keeps insisting we take the private jet but I think it’s a colossal waste of fuel. I mean, what is it, like an hour-long flight?”

“Not sure. I drove.” Cassie washed and rinsed the pastry bag, turning it inside out to dry. “But since when do you give up that easily?” Olivia and Cole took arguing to a whole new level, an art form really. It was what brought them together in the first place and it was definitely what kept them in a state of constant attraction. Cassie couldn’t imagine a fight being such a turn on, but for her best friend and her husband, a good argument was the ultimate foreplay. Most of the time the topic was inconsequential—to them it was about the thrill of battle—but in this case the subject at hand was the environment, something close to Olivia’s heart. Cole must have made one hell of a case to get her to go along with him on this one. Cassie smiled to herself. That, or it was one hell of an orgasm.

“It’s our anniversary,” Olivia explained. “And he wants to celebrate this one at thirty-five thousand feet.”

So it was the promise of an orgasm. Or many. “Another anniversary, already?” Cassie didn’t even bother to hold back on the teasing tone, although truth be told, the transformation in her friend, not to mention her stuffed-shirt husband, was downright . . . inspiring. Olivia Ramsey had gone from a jaded, all - work - and - no - play anti-romantic to a lovey-dovey let’s-celebrate-every-monthly-milestone sap. As for Cole, he’d been all work and all play, although in Cassie’s opinion it was the wrong kind. But all that changed after a walk down the aisle with Elvis and Angus Young. Complete with a Priscilla Presley / Bride of Frankenstein makeover for the bride, Cole and Olivia’s wedding had been outrageous even for Vegas. Cassie wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen the photos Cole had snapped with his phone, but it was all true. As was the fact that the two love birds were dangerously close to being sickeningly sweet, even for a romantic pastry chef such as herself.

“Mmm-hmm, nine months.” The smile in Olivia’s voice was impossible to miss.

“You should have told him you wanted to recreate the day it all began,” Cassie said, referencing the commercial flight where Olivia literally fell into Cole’s lap. “Isn’t it only the mile-high club if you do it in a cramped airline lavatory?”

“As hot as that sounds . . . not! I think he’s a bit more interested in passing the time in his jet’s master cabin.” She lowered her voice. “He told me he bought these soft restraints that run under the mattress. Sort of a step up from tying me to the bedpost with my panties.” Olivia giggled, a sound Cassie still wasn’t quite used to hearing from her previously subdued friend. “Guess you could say he’s raising the bar. Oh! Speaking of bars . . . last week he brought home this spreader bar and—”

“TMI!” Cassie shouted.

Olivia laughed. Sometimes Cassie wondered if the stories she recounted were true or if she embellished them for effect. Either way, she certainly elicited a reaction. “All right, get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Night-night,” Cassie said, before ending the call and tucking her cell phone into the pocket of her jeans. She’d just picked up the tray of cupcakes and was headed toward the refrigerated case when a shadow in the doorway stopped her dead in her tracks. She stumbled and swayed and for the second time in as many hours nearly had to restart the last batch.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” her handsome stranger said. “The front door was open and I could see the light was still on so . . .”

She’d left the front door unlocked? That wasn’t like her. Then again, she hadn’t exactly acted much like herself all night. And she had been quite distracted by the near fire, not to mention the near kiss.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I shouldn’t have left the door unlocked, but I’m glad that I did. Not that I would have wanted someone to break in, but then you wouldn’t have been able to get in and then you wouldn’t be here, standing in the kitchen with me.” Good grief she was a babbling fool. Cassie took a calming breath in an attempt to stop her motormouth, but there wasn’t much she could do about her racing heart. There was just something about him, something magnetic and dangerous and irresistible all at once. It was a devastating combination that made her feel jittery and excited and more turned-on than she could ever remember feeling in her entire life, even counting the time Robert Pattinson appeared at her local mall to promote the release of Twilight. That had been so intense she’d nearly fainted, something she was embarrassingly close to doing again.

“I’m glad you came back,” she finally said in a softer, calmer voice.

In the shadows her stranger looked even more mysterious than he had before, a fact she wouldn’t have thought possible. But when he stepped forward and the light caught his eyes, all thoughts left her but one: their unfinished kiss.

His gaze fell upon her face before taking in the rest of her in a long sweeping glance. Nothing seemed to go unnoticed, from the stray curls of hair that brushed against her neck to the way the apron pulled across her breasts to the way her jeans hugged her hips. There was so much heat behind those brown eyes, her body sprang to life in a tingling warmth in their wake. “Burning the midnight oil I see.” His voice was rough, betraying the effect his once-over had had on him as well.

“Have a large order to fill for the weekend.” She smiled, then nodded down at the tray she still held in her hands. “Plus, I had a few cupcakes to remake.”

Her handsome stranger ran a hand back through his hair and when it fell forward in a perfectly tousled mess, she wanted to reach out and touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked, and to imagine what it would feel like clutched between her fingers in a moment of unbridled lust. Cheese and rice, she was a hot mess.

“Yes,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “My fault really. I was, after all . . . distracting you.” The expression on her stranger’s face was contrite and yet at the same time not the least bit sorry. Although to be fair, neither was she. In fact if she was honest with herself what she was most sorry about was that their moment had been interrupted.

“Which is why I’m here actually.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “It is?”

“Indeed. Least I can do is offer my services. Hank Green,” he said, bowing with a flourish. “Your humble servant, mademoiselle. Ready to work.”

Despite the fact that a part of her had hoped he’d been referring to the distraction and that what he’d actually meant was that he was there to finish the kiss he’d nearly started, there was no denying the charm of a man willing to roll up his sleeves in the kitchen. For Cassie it was almost better than foreplay. Add to that the infectious grin, and she was dangerously close to becoming a puddle on the bakery floor.

“I might look like a bloke who doesn’t know his way around a kitchen, aside from making a mean bowl of cereal. But I’m a fast study.”

Fast. Fast and furious. Fast and furious against the refrigerator. Or maybe he could just spread her out on the stainless steel counter, lower his head to her—

“What’s next on the list?”

Jeez Louise. Forget cooking foreplay, she was halfway to the finish line all on her own. But instead of taking him up on his offer and seeing if one thing might lead to another, Cassie opened her mouth and words came out as if on autopilot. “Umm, actually, I’m done for the night,” she said. “This is the last batch of replacement cupcakes.”

It was official, she had zero moves. That or she’d spent so much time with inanimate objects she was actually starting to lose her mind. An unbelievably hot stranger was at her doorstep offering to help her in the kitchen. What sane woman would tell him she was just about to lock up? No wonder she hadn’t had sex in nearly two years.

To her relief, Hank Green wasn’t giving up so easily.

“There has to be something else on the list.” He glanced around the nearly spotless kitchen until his gaze fell on the bowl of oversized strawberries visible through the refrigerator’s glass door. “What about those, are they good to go as you say, or do they need to be dipped and drizzled?”

A small giggle bubbled up from deep inside her. “Dipped and drizzled?”

“Covered with chocolate and then decorated with little zigzags or sprinkles of some sort?”

“Fan of decorating confections are you?”

“Actually more a fan of eating them.”

“So more consumer than manufacturer?”

“Precisely.” His face darkened with sensual promise. “Although I do consider myself somewhat of an expert when it comes to consuming delicacies.”

Cassie couldn’t help but wonder if they were still talking about frosted fruit. A delicious tingle ran down her spine at the realization that, lack of modesty aside, her handsome stranger was probably quite proficient in many areas, none of which involved stand mixers and convection ovens.

“So, am I hired?”

The word “yes” blinked in front of her eyes like an old-fashioned movie marquee but before she could answer he sweetened the deal. “I’m a very hard worker and I require no pay.”

That darn dimple made another appearance along with the smile from earlier in the day, the one that Cassie was quite sure got him out of trouble or into it, depending on his mood.

“Well,” he said, “other than perhaps a kiss.”

“A kiss?” she squeaked. Honestly, she sounded like Peter Brady going through puberty.

He nodded. “Mmm-hmm, to finish the one we started earlier.”

The bulbs on the mental marquee flashed so quickly, one of them popped.

Cassie swallowed to find her voice then placed the tray of cupcakes on the counter and gave him her sweetest, most indulgent smile. “So let me get this straight. A near kiss resulted in a batch of burned bakery items, which you are now offering to help replace in exchange for completion of said kiss?”

He grinned. “Has a nice symmetry to it, don’t you think?”

She straightened her shoulders. “You’re assuming I was going to allow you to kiss me in the first place.” She might have been about to spontaneously combust, but she didn’t have to come off as a totally sure thing. Oh, who was she kidding? Pheromones were probably rolling off her in waves.

Her stranger’s eyes glimmered. “I do like a challenge.” He reached for an apron that hung on a hook by the door. “Give me an hour.”

“To seduce me?”

“No, the hour is for dipping the strawberries. I only need five minutes for the seduction,” he said matter-of-factly.

On other men such a declaration would have come off as cocky. But on him the confidence he exuded not only worked, it worked well. Despite his casual attire, another button-down—a pale green and white stripe—paired with a darker denim and no baseball cap, there was an air of authority about him. This was a man who wasn’t used to hearing the word “no,” and if the hum vibrating deep within her was any indication, he wasn’t likely to hear it tonight either.

“So do we have a deal?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Cassie placed her hand in his and the same spark from earlier passed between them once again. “Deal.”

“Excellent.” Her stranger brought her hand to his lips, pressing them ever so softly against her skin. Then he looked up and flashed a grin that made her want to forget all about the strawberries and go straight to the unfinished kiss. “Where do we begin?”

He slipped the top loop of the apron over his neck and began to tie the strings behind his back. The image of Mr. Sexy Confidence in a red gingham apron was too much and although she tried her best to stifle it, another giggle escaped her lips.

Hank looked up at her from beneath the soft brown hair that had fallen across his brow. “Mocking the help?” He tsked in disapproval but his face was lit with a warm smile.

“Sorry,” Cassie said, trying her best to regain her composure. “It’s just . . . well, red is a good color on you.”

“Just trying to protect my clothes.” A playful gleam filled his eyes. “I could take them all off if you prefer? Although I imagine that might break a few of your health codes.”

“No, no,” she stammered. “The apron will do just fine.”

“Good, because I am rather partial to the little ruffles,” he said, flicking his finger at the eyelet that trimmed the top of the apron. “Okay, now that I’m properly suited up, where do you want me?”

Dear Lord, were there five more loaded words? Where did she want him? On his knees in front of her, hovering over her, looming behind her . . . and those were just the positions that popped into her mind. Something told her that her stranger could conjure a few she’d never even thought of, and at the moment she was game to try them all. “Where did she want him?” wasn’t the question. More like where didn’t she.

“Right there is fine,” she said, pointing to the large sink against the wall as she made her way to the refrigerator. She pulled out the bowl of oversized strawberries, and brought them to the sink along with a colander. “You can wash these while I get the chocolate sauce ready. Just be sure to pat them dry.” She handed him a roll of paper towels. “If there’s any water left on them it will make the chocolate get all bumpy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hank said with a tiny salute.

Cassie left him to his chore and went about the kitchen gathering the items she needed for—what was it he called it? Ah yes, dipping and drizzling. It wasn’t lost on her that Hank, while taking his job very seriously, never took his eyes off her. At least not for very long. She did her best to give him a show worth watching, letting her hips sway a little more than necessary as she walked by or arching her back a little more than normal as she reached for something on a high shelf.

Mutual appreciation aside, they made a good team, and within just a few minutes they had a colander of washed and dried strawberries and two bowls of perfectly melted chocolate.

“I usually like to get the fruit to room temperature before I coat it,” she said as she assembled everything on the large stainless steel island in the center of the room. “But I think they will be fine.”

Hank joined her, watching with great fascination as Cassie placed two trays on the counter, one in front of each of them, then lined them with parchment paper. “Do I sense a bit of competition?” he said, eyeing the two workstations she had created.

She laughed. “No, I just thought it would be easier if we each had our own space.”

“Afraid I’ll distract you again?” The look he gave her was almost identical to when he’d been about to kiss her. Only this time the glimmer in his eyes told her he wanted a lot more than just one kiss.

“Perhaps.” She set the bowl of milk chocolate in front of him. “I’ll use the white chocolate and then we can switch for the drizzle.”

Hank stretched his arms out in front of him, cracking his fingers as though he was about to sit down at a piano. “So how does this go then?” he asked.

Cassie picked up a strawberry and leaned closer as she held the fruit over his bowl of melted chocolate.

“It’s quite simple,” she said, dunking the strawberry into the bowl then giving it a quick twist as she drew it back out. “All in the wrist really.” The lump in her throat made her voice sound husky and deep and more like a phone sex operator than a pastry chef. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she had to go and tell him it was best with a little wrist action.

It was unlikely her comment went unnoticed, but mercifully her stranger said nothing. Instead he merely picked up a strawberry and mimicked her actions. “Like this?” he asked, dipping it ever so slightly into the warm chocolate.

“Yes, but deeper. Don’t be afraid to get your fingers wet.” Crap, she did it again. She’d been trying out a little subtle flirtation with the swaying hips, but now it seemed as though she’d gone all porn star, at least the audio portion.

Beside her Hank stilled, but once again said nothing. Cassie tried her best to focus her attention on the task at hand but she couldn’t resist a sideways glance at her handsome stranger. She watched as he dipped the fruit deeper into the chocolate before lifting the dripping mess out of the bowl.

“Just be careful of the dangly bits,” she said.

He cut his eyes at her and she felt a warm blush spread across her face.

“I meant the excess chocolate.” She was basking in her quick recovery when she stuck her foot so far into her mouth it was amazing she could still speak. “If you swirl the end you get a nice finish.” Christ on a cracker, forget the Barefoot Contessa, she could star in a new show called the Slutty Gourmet. What in the world had gotten into her? She couldn’t have made this stuff up if she tried, and yet for some inexplicable reason double entendre had become second nature.

A low groan rumbled deep within Hank’s chest. “It’s possible you’ll be the death of me, Little Vixen.”

Cassie had to bite her lip to hide her smile. B-list audio porn star or not, whatever she was doing was working. Still, there were a lot of strawberries to dip in chocolate that wouldn’t stay melted for very much longer. Her spontaneous combustion would have to wait until after the work was done, which meant it was probably best to change the subject. Quickly.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Hank dropped the next strawberry completely into the bowl. “Um, I help run our family business.” He stole a glance at her as he rescued the drowning fruit. He shook the excess chocolate off before placing it next to the others on the parchment. “Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation.” Cassie smiled. “Obviously you know my profession.” She nodded to the trays of food. “And truth be told I was half afraid of what was going to come out of my mouth next if we kept going the way we were.”

“So you weren’t trying to drive me crazy with naughty innuendo?”

She laughed. “Not intentionally, no.”

“Too bad.” He winked. “I was quite enjoying it.”

“Good to know. But for the sake of these desserts I thought maybe I should switch topics.” Cassie swirled her last strawberry through the creamy chocolate, causing Hank to do a double take.

“You’re done?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question seeing as her half of the strawberries had all been dipped and placed in neat rows to dry.

“Occupational advantage,” she said. She leaned her hip against the counter and settled in to watch him work. “What sort of business?”

Hank cleared his throat. “Imports and exports.”

“So you move things in and out?”

His eyes flared. “I thought you were done with innuendo?”

She felt a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “Oh, I didn’t mean . . . I only meant . . .”

“You’re beautiful when you blush.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And you’re correct. I move things in and out. Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, but I’ve found it’s more about the angle, I mean route.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Finding just the right spot makes it all the more rewarding.”

A moment passed before Cassie’s head cleared enough to form a complete thought. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered. “At the innuendo I mean.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the century? Hank’s description had made every nerve in Cassie’s body come alive. And the way his gaze had shifted from her eyes to her lips? Finished assignment or not, she’d been sure he was about to claim his payment. But instead of kissing her, he merely reached for the next strawberry and began rolling it through what was left of the milk chocolate.

“There, task completed.” He placed the last of his strawberries on the tray and turned to face her. She assumed he’d be ready for his reward, but the expression on his face was more amusement than lust.

“You have a little . . .” He gestured toward his brow.

Cassie ran her fingers across her forehead until they caught on a gooey clump of chocolate. For the love of God, it was like she was living some middle school nightmare. What was next, toilet paper stuck to her shoe?

“Here, allow me,” Hank said. He reached for the towel she’d left on the counter and gently brushed it across her forehead. But instead of clean, dry cotton on her skin, all Cassie felt was more moist goo. “This was the towel you wiped your hands on, wasn’t it?” he asked, realizing a moment too late that he’d only made things worse.

One thing was certain, this was most definitely a game two could play. Cassie lifted a brow but said nothing. Instead she merely dipped her fingertips into the chocolate that remained in her bowl. Hank’s eyes narrowed as he realized her intent.

“You wouldn’t dare . . .”

But before he could finish his sentence she had dotted his nose with a dollop of chocolate. “Cute.” He reached up to wipe it, then popped his finger into his mouth. “And delicious.”

“Maybe I should try some,” she said. Her voice was husky and once again sounded nothing like her own. But instead of sampling what remained on her own fingers, inspiration struck her and she reached for his. Without taking her eyes off his, she slowly dipped his index finger into the chocolate before bringing it to her mouth. His lips parted as hers did, his eyes darkening as she slipped his finger into her mouth and gently sucked the chocolate from the tip. “Mmmm,” she hummed. “Delicious.”

He drew a sharp intake of air. “You’re full of surprises, Little Vixen.”

To him and her both. In all her twenty-eight years Cassie had never been so bold with a man. Then again, she’d never felt so uninhibited before either. Maybe it was the anonymity or the fact that she was so far from home. This temporary environment not only afforded her the opportunity to step into someone else’s bakery, it allowed her to step into another life. She could be someone else entirely. Someone who wasn’t a nerdy, overachieving, overworked and overstressed Chicago pastry chef with no time for men. Tonight she could be a carefree woman in a small town, enjoying a flirtatious banter with an impossibly handsome stranger.

Still, as exhilarating as it was, this was a role she was unaccustomed to and although she was enjoying their game, its effect was heady. Her stomach fluttered and her skin tingled, and if she’d been wearing heels her legs would have no doubt wobbled. As it was she was finding herself a bit unsteady in her Keds. So as much as she wanted to lean in closer, for a moment at least, she needed to retreat.

“I better put these away,” she said. She picked up the tray of strawberries and headed toward the fridge. She was quite sure her stranger was tracking her every move, but when she closed the door and turned around she realized he was right behind her.

She met his dark eyes and all at once she was transfixed, unable to look away even if she wanted to. It was as though he could see right through her, past the uncertain exterior to the woman who deep down had always wanted more, even if she’d been too afraid to admit it. Her protective shell had far more than cracked, it had completely crumbled under the sheer weight of his stare.

“I believe you have proved me a liar,” he said.

“I have?”

“Mmm, I told you I only need five minutes to seduce you, but our work has been done for nearly ten.”

That was where he was wrong. It might have only taken ten minutes to close the deal, but the seduction of Cassandra Miller had started the instant he’d walked through the door. And more than that, it was working. Because in that moment Cassie was ready for anything. Judging by the look on his face, her stranger knew it too.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and a fission of exhilaration ran through her. Never in her life had she felt so alive, so completely sure of what she wanted. This, this was exactly what she wanted, but more than that, it was exactly what she needed.

Hank dipped his head and touched his lips to hers, softly at first, as if she might break or run or just vanish into thin air. But then his lips parted and she felt the warm, wet stroke of his tongue as he deepened the kiss.

His fingers rested on her hips, barely touching her, and yet she felt as though she were melting into his hands. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She wanted to feel the weight of him against her, to know he was as affected by her as she was him. He pressed against her and she felt the shape of him, hard against her softness, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been that way, if this perfect man had wanted her this whole time as badly as she’d wanted him.

When he broke their kiss, she was more than ready for whatever came next.

“Come up to my room,” Hank breathed. His lips moved over her jaw and down her throat, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses that left her aching for more. “I have a lovely four-poster bed that’s far too big for one.”

His room, his bed. Sex in his bed. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t want one wild night with this handsome stranger, but sex in a bed was so . . . so . . . normal. She’d done normal. And although normal sex was better than no sex, something told her that the man in front of her was offering good sex, and that was something that was long overdue.

Cassie blinked hard. She took a moment to gather her composure, but like her resistance it was currently scattered all over the bakery floor. Hmm, the floor would work just fine.

When she didn’t answer he pulled back, slipping a finger under her chin and lifting her eyes to his once again. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Her voice sounded as shaky as the rest of her. But it wasn’t from intimidation or nerves. On the contrary, for the first time in her life Cassie felt strong and fearless and brave. Still, something about this man made her tremble in the most delicious way.

His eyes glowed with a mixture of amusement and lust. “Believe me, luv, I’d like nothing better than to take you right here, against this door.”

Her heart hammered inside her chest. Did he really just say that? And in an accent that was nearly enough to finish her off? Who was this man who had come into her life as if a direct answer to Olivia’s outrageous suggestion? The images her friend had conjured two days prior flooded her senses. Oh yes, that was exactly what she wanted. Right then and there.

Lucky for her, Hank was a bit more aware of their surroundings. “But those windows don’t have any curtains,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “And I would hate for some random pub-goer to get an eyeful of your beautiful curves as he stumbled home.”

Sex god and a gentleman? This guy was too good to be true.

“Ask me again,” she said.

A momentary frown drifted across his face until realization took hold. He leaned closer and whispered roughly against her ear. “Let’s go up to my room, so I can make you come all night.”

Holy hell, that he didn’t have to offer twice. Cassie took his hand as she pushed away from the glass. In seconds she’d grabbed her keys and had them moving toward the door. She hit the light switch and quickly fumbled with the lock, a task that wasn’t made any easier by the fact that Hank’s lips were leaving a trail of wet kisses down her neck. “Done,” she said as the bolt clicked into place. She turned quickly, too quickly, and stepped right out of her shoe.

Hank glanced down at her footwear, smiling as he took in the sight of a pair of denim Keds embroidered with tiny hearts.

“They were a gift,” Cassie offered. No matter the holiday, her mother never failed to send her shoes. This particular pair was for Valentine’s Day. It hadn’t been lost on her that other women were getting heart-shaped boxes of candy or long-stem roses while she was marking the occasion with a pair of shoes from her mother. But at the moment none of that mattered because the man beside her was Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one.

“They suit you,” Hank said. He dropped to one knee to retrieve the errant footwear. “Seems the princess has lost her slipper. May I?” And if that wasn’t enough to make her feel like Cinderella, in the distance the clock on the town hall struck twelve.

“You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin are you?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. Instead he simply slipped the shoe onto her foot, then stood to kiss her again. Only this time he wasn’t soft and gentle. This time his kiss was raw and searing. Like he was starving and she was the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. She followed his lead, their tongues moving together until the heat that pulsed low in her belly turned into a desperate need.

“Let’s go,” he said. His voice was tight with a barely leashed restraint. “Before I have you naked on this staircase.”

Cassie stepped forward, but when she put weight on her foot she winced.

“Did you twist your ankle when you lost your shoe?”

She gave a quick nod. “Just a bit. It will be fine. Nothing that requires medical attention.” Or postponing the sex.

“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he said. Bending at the waste, he scooped Cassie up into his arms.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“I believe that should be quite obvious,” he said as he carried her up the wooden staircase.

Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck. The absurdity of the situation registered somewhere in the back of her mind—the chiming clock, the lost shoe, and literally being swept her off her feet—but she’d think more about that tomorrow. At the moment she had far more salacious thoughts on her mind. Because while her handsome stranger wasn’t Prince Charming, and she sure as hell wasn’t Cinderella, something told Cassie what lay ahead was a night fit for a queen.