I poured myself my second glass of wine and took a sip before I placed the chocolate cake in the double oven of the restaurant’s state-of-the-art kitchen.

"You know what's damn sexy, woman?"

"What?" I asked, almost dizzy at being able to spend this much time with him alone.

He eyed me with an adorable half crooked smile. "A woman who knows her way around a kitchen."

I patted my own back, proud of my creation and excited to have him take a taste. "I can't cook anything but cake and breakfast, so don't be too impressed."

He chuckled and dropped the rag he was holding in the oversized double stainless steel sink. What surprised me was the hands-free automatic faucets that turned on by sensor.

I took in his state-of-the-art kitchen. It must’ve cost thousands to build out this place. I could practically see my reflection against his appliances. Against the wall spanned a multi-unit range with a combination of gas burners, a griddle, a wok burner, and a fryer. Overhead there was a full-length hood to provide maximum ventilation and a wall rail for gadgets and utensils.

There were multiple ovens, and while Cade had tried to explain the functionality of each one, I couldn't remember. There was one to keep the food warm, one to bake items, and a smoker.

One thing I knew, I was in absolute heaven using all of his restaurant style gadgets.

"I would’ve loved to be a cook in my former life," I sighed.

He frowned as if it was the easiest wish I could’ve asked for. "Why don't you?"

With the spatula, I cleaned up the side of the silver bowl and licked the icing off it. "I don't know. I like real estate, too."

He grabbed the spatula and licked the other side of it. It was the sexiest thing. Almost like we were kissing but not touching.

"You like real estate or do you like pleasing your parents?" His tone was light, though I couldn't help but be a tiny bit offended, which forced my attention back his way.

"Both," I said honestly. "I like real estate and running Armstrong Realty, and, yes ... I like making them happy. They're my family." I'd grown up watching my father help my grandfather build up the Armstrong empire. I had always wanted to grow up to be him, to be my father, to build and create. And in a way, maybe that's why I liked making cakes, too. I enjoyed the art of creating.

"I understand about family." He approached my mixing bowl and watched me as I meticulously cleaned the bowl with the spatula.

I wanted to pry. I wanted to push him so badly and find out about her. "Do I remind you of her? Your sister, Candice?" I had sensed this when he’d mentioned the sound of my voice.

"I don't think of you in a sisterly way if that’s what you're asking." He let out a low laugh and averted his eyes so I couldn't read them. "But the good things, the things I want to remember. The parts where she wasn't drunk and high all the time." His broad shoulders heaved as he breathed. "The way her laughter filled a room, her goofiness, the way she was before ... The parts I miss; you remind me of those parts."

He dropped his head, and torment clouded his vision. "I hated seeing her toward the end. She was so doped up on coke that she was a totally different person—a person I hardly recognized." One shaky hand ran from the top of his head, down his face. "I don't want to think of those parts. I want to remember her before that stuff. The person I knew and loved."

He straightened when the timer dinged in the background, indicating that our cake was cooked, and, sadly, our conversation about his sister was over. As he strolled to the stove, I focused on her name on his forearm, written in black curlicue letters.

After he pulled the cake from the oven, a waft of chocolate filled the air, making my stomach grumble.

He placed the cake on the counter, and I proceeded to fill the pastry tube with icing. After allowing the cake to cool down, I began my favorite part of the process—decorating the cake.

"You know you bite your lip whenever you're thinking too hard."

"What?" I stopped midair, the pastry tube in my hands. I was showcasing my cake decorating skills, making pink rose flower petals along the edge of the frosted chocolate cake. "Oh, I never noticed. Must be a family thing. Tene does it, too."

My hands moved toward the cake with purpose and a creative flair. One more rose and I'd be finished. "Tah-dah!" I backed away, smiling as I wiped my forehead with my forearm, careful that my frosting-covered fingers didn’t touch my face.

"Impressive." He inched forward and eyed the cake with a seriousness that made me laugh.

"What? Is it not up to par, Mr. Ryder?"

"Hm." He rubbed his forefinger and thumb across his chin, as though he was thinking mighty hard.

"I want to see you do better," I countered, placing one light hand on my hip. "What do you know about decorating cakes?"

"I went to culinary school for two years,” he said, shocking me. “I'm a certified chef."

"Oh." My smug smile left my face.

"Did you think I just owned a bar?" He cocked an eyebrow. "When I knew that this was what I wanted to do, I had to master the whole process."

Suddenly the thought that I was really being judged didn't sit well in my stomach. "Well, what's wrong with it?" I tilted my head, noting the perfectly made pink roses with the decorated border outlining the edge of the cake.

"It's missing something."

"What?" I tapped my fingertips against the counter, feeling impatient. When I picked up the pastry tube again, he shook his head and took out seven candles.

My shoulders relaxed, and a smile sat heavily on my face as I waited patiently for him to set up the cake. In one row, he set two candles. Right underneath that row, he set the rest of the five candles. Twenty-five. A quarter of a century year old.

As he lit each candle, my smile widened. I'd waited for this moment all year, for this new beginning, this new wish. Last year, I had wished for my father's health. This year, I decided I'd wish for something for myself.

When he set the lighter down, he stood right beside me and shook my shoulders. "Happy birthday, Angel." The corner of his mouth tipped up into his signature crooked smile.

"You're going to sing, right?"

He shook his head and let out a giant laugh, one that would’ve shook his belly if he had one, but the only part of his anatomy that shook was his chest. "I don't sing."

I playfully pointed a finger in his direction. "It's my birthday, and for my wish, I command you to sing."

The candles were going to burn out if he didn't do it soon.

I gave him my sweetest smile, the one I used on my father when I was playing cute and wanted something. "Please."

His smile disappeared, and just when I thought he was going to shut me down, he started to sing. "Happy … Happy birthday … to you.” His voice was curt and broken. Boy, did he sound horrible, but the gesture was so terribly sweet.

I motioned my hands for him to continue, though he looked like he was in pain. "Happy ... birthday to you." His face turned beet red. My gosh, the big muscled, tattooed bar owner was blushing. I didn’t think I'd ever smiled so big. My cheeks hurt.

"You're not done," I teased. "Seriously, the wax on the candles is melting." I motioned with my hands again.

"Happy birthday, dear Angel. Happy birthday to you." The last words rushed out of him so fast, I almost didn’t catch some of the words. "Turn around and make a wish."

He walked behind me and held my shoulders as I closed my eyes, just like I do every year. Tene and my whole family made fun of me about how I acted like a child for my birthday. I had a million wishes; too many to count. But today, I only had one. I inhaled deeply, thinking of this one wish, and blew out all seven candles, releasing my thoughts and energy into that one breath.

"Thanks," I said, turning around to face him. "I was afraid I wasn't going to do that this year."

His hands dropped to my upper arms. "I wasn't about to let that happen." His thumbs grazed my bare skin, and my whole body warmed, my pulse quickening and my mouth drying up from his touch. The air shifted with tension like a thin string wired with electricity. His stare flickered to my lips, which caused a hunger deep in my belly to overpower all of my senses. My knees felt weak as I angled toward him and tilted my head.

He leaned in, and I gave in just an inch. I should’ve wished for a kiss. A kiss that could never have been forgotten because, once I kissed this man, I doubted I'd ever forget it.

His eyes fell to half-mast, and when he inched closer, my pulse pounded loudly in my ears. He was about to close the gap between us ... so close. Closer ... closer.

Too close. Too soon. Too much.

I straightened as the thoughts awakened me from my trance, which forced him to still.

He was only going to kiss me, nothing else. But the last guy I’d kissed had been Roland. And our first kiss led to many kisses. Many kisses that led to me falling deep in love with him. And that love had led to heartbreak. I could see how things could escalate between Cade and me, and I couldn’t get emotionally attached and have my heart broken again. A slew of emotions bubbled in my chest, causing me to clam up.

"I think ..." I lost any ability to think or speak or function as I gazed back up at him. "I think we should eat cake." It took me a second to recollect myself. I backed up, away from him and turned to said cake.

He stood there for a second, silent. I wondered what he was thinking as I took the knife on the counter and busied myself by cutting the cake into pieces. I separated two plates and set a piece on each one. I was afraid to see his reaction, to see the longing on his face that was mirrored in mine. Because even though I was crazy nervous, and my thoughts were a jumbled mess, I couldn’t deny what I felt. I longed for this man.

He approached the counter. "Chocolate cake. My favorite." There was no huskiness in his voice, so I turned around and was awarded with his sexy crooked smile. My nerves relaxed at the sight of him.

"My favorite, too."

He dipped his fingertips into the chocolate and smeared my cheek with it.

My mouth dropped open, my lips curling into an 'O'. "I can't believe you just did that."

He chuckled and smeared chocolate on my other cheek.

I blinked. "Oh, you want to get dirty, huh?" I said, chin out, body ready to rumble.

His smile was blinding. Not the crooked, half semi smile I was used to, but a full-on grin. "Dirty is my middle name."

I wiped the chocolate from my face and licked my fingertips. His eyes flashed.

Good.

"You're going to get it." I stepped out of my heels. My fingers swiped at my other cheek, and I brought the chocolate to my lips.

With stealthy quickness, he rushed toward me, spread chocolate on my forehead, then hopped away.

My feet shuffled a step back. I didn't think it was possible to be shocked twice in such a short time frame, but I was. "You did not just do that." My smile widened, and my feet drummed on the floor, ready for my next move.

Full teeth were on display. God, it was the hottest thing on this man—a full-on smile, all teeth. I laughed, and just as fast as he approached me, I dipped my hands into a big chunk of the cake, feeling the squishy, sticky cake and frosting fill most of my hand, then I slammed him in the face.

My actions surprised me, or maybe the fact that he was too slow to dodge them. I stilled in my spot, wide-eyed and blinking. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry." The cake covered his eye, some falling on his cheek. I grabbed the white cloth napkin behind me and stepped toward him to help him clear off some chocolate, but in the next second, he reached behind me, and, with a handful of cake, coated my face.

"I'm sorry, too." He belly laughed, looking like a little boy, and I wondered what kind of silly antics he did as a child.

I narrowed my eyes, meaning war now. “Okay, I see how it is." I swiped at my face and pieces of chocolate fell from my cheek to the ground.

He bounced from side to side, like a boxer in a ring, knowing I'd get him next. And I would.

When my hands picked up the whole cake, he jerked back. "I don't think that's playing fair."

"Mmhmm." I advanced toward him, the cold of the tile floor against my bare feet. A sneaky smile creased my mouth, the kind that Tene used to throw me when we fought.

He maneuvered behind the center stainless steel table separating the room, separating us, separating himself from the cake shower I was about to give him.

"You think you can catch me?” he dared me. “I think you might be too slow."

My mouth dropped open, and I barked out a laugh. "That's what you think."

He flexed his muscles, causing the intricate tattoo that went up his forearm to tighten. I ran to catch him, but he flitted to the other side, the table still between us.

"You,” I laughed. “I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your face." I whipped a handful of cake across the room, hitting him in the chest.

He peered down at his shirt with a glob of glowing frosting on it. "I happen to like this shirt. My mama gave me this shirt."

"It's an ugly shirt," I goaded him.

His eyes narrowed playfully. "Are you telling me my mom has bad taste in shirts?"

I lifted my chin in defiance. "Yes. Or maybe it's the person, not the shirt."

He took off his shirt, and I swore; I almost dropped the cake. Seeing him shirtless was glorious, and gosh darn it, I forgot we were even in a cake match.

"You all right over there?" he asked too innocently.

"Ahh," I stammered. No words. A mural of black ink etched half of his chest, trailing to both shoulders and up his neck.

"Ahem." His smile told me he knew I was ogling him.

Right. Carrying on.

I hurled more cake in his direction, this time hitting him straight in the face, and his look was epic. His eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"I'm sorry?" My voice didn't sound apologetic one bit. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

His smirk tightened, his face amused but oddly filled with purpose as he charged toward me.

"Ahh ... no!" I rushed to the other side of the table. Where he moved, I countered, as far away from him as possible.

Then he planted his feet apart in a wide stance, determination set in his shoulders and my pulse quickened. "One way or the other, I'm going to get revenge, Angel."

Well, crap, then.

His voice was playful, but I wouldn't want to get on this man's bad side.

I didn't know what came over me, but I fisted more cake and chucked it at him, hitting his neck.

He growled, but in the next second he darted toward me, grabbed the cake from my hands and slathered it all over my face as though he was giving me a cake facial.

I squealed under all the frosting.

"You said you loved cake," he laughed. He had me backed up against the wall, but that didn't stop my determination.

I coated his bare chest with chocolate. "My birthday is over." Slapped it against his back. "Thank you for everything."

We were inches apart as I pushed the whole cake that he was holding into his face.

He could barely see, and I couldn't stop laughing. My fingertips lathered it through his hair like shampoo while tiny giggles escaped me.

He wiped his face clean, and then it was a full-on cake fight. Cake was everywhere. He stuffed it down my top and in my hair. "Happy birthday, Angel." He slathered cake on my neck as he pushed me up against the wall, anchored me, supporting all my weight.

"I'm dirty." My voice was hoarse, and my pulse beat erratically against my wrist.

"I like you dirty," he growled.

Suddenly, the air shifted, all amusement gone. His lips parted, and his eyes filled with lust.

My sticky hands slipped around his bare back, right by his backside. "Now you're dirty," I whispered. The sensation of warmth flooded my body.

He pushed against me, and I could feel his hardness against my stomach, which caused a dizzying current to run through me. My legs parted to cradle him, my skirt hitching up. His hands moved down to my bare thighs, and his fingertips made a sensual path up my legs until he was holding me up against the wall by my ass.

He rocked into me and his hard length pressed against the wetness of my panties. "You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" He rocked into me again, and a small moan escaped my mouth. He skimmed his nose down my cheek to the crook of my neck, where he licked the span of skin. "And because it's your birthday, I'm going to lick you clean." The warmth of his tongue set my skin ablaze.

All self-restraint disappeared as I tugged at the top of his hair and slammed my lips against his. Pure ravenous fire ignited between us, an inferno heating my body, all from the touch of his lips and the swirl of his tongue. He licked and flicked and bit my tongue in a long, lulling tempo that made me heavy with want and dripping in desire. I moved against him, loving the friction of our bodies. And it wasn't nearly enough.

One hand moved to the apple of my ass, and when he pushed me against him, my lips lost contact with his, and I trembled with pleasure.

"You like that?" He rocked into me farther, and an explosive current ripped through my body. My aching breasts rubbed against his bare chest, and my whole body sizzled against his.

He moved against me, creating this sensual friction that made my insides want to combust. "Angel ... I want you so bad." He rested his forehead against mine, his breathing labored and hot against my skin.

My pulse beat in every part of my body and my nerves were raw in the best possible way. "Well, take what you want," I whispered.

A hunger so strong, a thirst in the deepest part of me that I thought was gone, abruptly emerged as he lifted me and led us down the hall and to the freight elevator to take us to his apartment.