A Fine Romance (18 page)

God, if only she knew the effect she had on him, no matter what clothes she wore. Already his dick pressed against the fly of his pants with the insistence of a battering ram. “Your bra is sexy. Every perfect inch of you is beautiful. But we’re about to get messy, and you’re wearing white.” Before she could ask questions, he’d flicked open the clasp and slipped the straps down her arms. Then he leaned her back, her head landing on the soft stack of towels he’d placed there as a pillow.

“What are you up to, Sam?”

“Close your eyes and you’ll find out.” The minute she obeyed, he pulled a squirt bottle out of the pan of warm water on the stove. He soooo wanted to stand out from any other guy who’d been lucky enough to see her naked. For their first time, by-the-numbers sex wouldn’t be enough. Sam intended to give her an experience she’d never forget.

With the same careful precision he used to create the intricate basket weave designs on wedding cakes, he squeezed the warm, melted chocolate onto her breast in a heart shape. Then he opened his mouth around that creamy mound and began to lick. The thick stickiness of the chocolate made him rasp his tongue a little harder as he swirled up, down and around. Every stroke lashed against her nipple, which instantly hardened to a delicate point. Mira locked her legs back around his waist.

“That’s...oh my...you know how to get me from zero to sixty in about one heartbeat,” she said breathlessly. “God, Sam, I feel it everywhere. Like you crawled into my bloodstream and are licking every inch of my body at once.”

“Good.” He was reduced, yet again, to monosyllables. With his concentration split equally between pleasuring Mira and not exploding like a virgin from the sheer sweetness of her, Sam couldn’t spare any brain power to talk. He squeezed out another fat drop of chocolate sauce, this time right on the pale pink tip of her other nipple. Sensitized at this point, she squirmed against him. Enjoying the view, he waited, and squeezed out another drop.

“Please, Sam,” she begged.

The flat of his tongue worked the nipple, back and forth. It only lasted a few seconds before she fisted her hands in his hair and yanked him up for a kiss. Her tongue darted into his mouth, seeking and swirling. Then Mira gasped. Her eyelids flew open.

“What is that?”

Crap. She was tasting the chocolate. He’d thought about using honey, but it was twenty times stickier and frankly, less fun. Sam had figured since he would be the only one licking the viscous sauce, Mira wouldn’t have to know he’d used the chocolate she’d loathed for so long.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” Ridiculously pleased, he picked up the bottle. “I make it myself. A special blend with extra vanilla and a kick of cinnamon.”

“Skip the ingredient list. Just tell me what it is?”

Had it been so many years she really didn’t recognize the flavor? Once he told her, would she be mad? “Melted chocolate sauce.”

“No. Seriously?”

Sam waggled the bottle in front of her nose. “I never joke about chocolate.”

She nipped it right out of his fingers. Then she tilted her head back and squeezed a long, steady stream right into her mouth. It could very well be the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. A throaty purr came from deep in her throat. “I hope you didn’t have plans for the rest of this bottle. There won’t be any left by the end of the night.” Mira captured his mouth. The sweet, dark aftertaste of his chocolate mingled with her own sweet flavor. It pushed Sam straight over the edge.

It only took one good yank to strip off her yoga pants. She toed off her sneakers while he stepped out of his slacks and ripped open the condom he’d strategically left at one corner of the island. As he slid it on, he planted his feet wide. “Mira, I don’t want to rush you.”

“Impossible. You primed me on our date at the Botanic Garden. You pushed me about twenty steps past ready in the elevator at the Cavendish. All I’ve done for days is think about getting you naked. I appreciate the thought, and the way you’ve reopened my eyes to the delights of the cacao bean. But what I would appreciate more than any tender foreplay or sweet nothings whispered in my ear is you driving yourself into me. Now.”

No wonder he’d fallen so hard for this woman. Sam anchored his hands on her hips, tugging her a little closer to the edge of the island. Locking eyes with her, he entered in one smooth, slow stroke. Mira bowed off the marble with a long moan. He drew back, practically seeing stars from the soft tightness she squeezed around his dick in warm pulses. Again he drove into her, sinking into her welcoming, perfect fit.

This time when she arched up, she stayed, planting her hands flat on the marble to steady herself. The position allowed Sam to latch on to her breast and suck in rhythm to his strokes. The combination of seeing her luscious breasts, tasting them and losing himself inside her stoked the fire inside him past all control. Faster and faster he pumped. Mira answered him with breathy little cries and pants, locking her ankles together on his back and meeting every thrust.

“Sam, oh, you’re amazing. It feels so... I can’t wait...” Her head dropped back and she let out a satisfied scream as he exploded inside her, waves of rippling pleasure washing over him. Before the last inner pulse subsided, Sam gathered her close and kissed her the rest of the way to senseless.

“Wow. I mean, wow!”

Sam agreed one hundred percent. “And that was just my chocolate sauce. Wait til you see what happens when you taste my whiskey caramel sauce.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Looks like I’d be smart to test every flavor.”

“Fine by me.” Sam loved it when laughter and fun could be a part of sex. With one last kiss, he disentangled himself. Walking over to the sink, he disposed of the condom in the trash can and blew out the candles. “If you want something a little more substantial, though, I’ve got dinner ready for us.”

Mira gave a dramatic gasp and made an exaggerated show of covering her mouth with her hands. “You mean even though you’ve had your way with me, you still want me around the rest of the night?” she teased.

Beginning to root in his belly was the certainty he’d want Mira around a lot longer than just one night. “You bet. Except, I’ve left you super sticky. How about we go to my place and we can take a shower? You’d be amazed at how good I can be with a bar of soap.”

“Talk about the ultimate walk of shame. What am I supposed to do—walk through the city topless?”

Other men ogling the beauty of all her parts? Especially the ones he’d just paid tribute to so lovingly with his hands and mouth? Sam hated the thought. “I’ve got a short commute. Down the hall and up the stairs.”

“You live over the bakery?”

“Yeah. So I hope my new neighbor doesn’t plan on throwing any all-night raves.”

“No promises. But if I do, you’ll at least get an invitation.”

Sam decided to come back for the dinner plates after their shower. He had high hopes it would be a long one. “Leave your clothes for now. I’ve got a robe you can wear.” After helping Mira off the island, he guided her up the narrow wooden stairs. He paused at his front door. “Remember, you told me to stake my claim. I just followed directions.” Either she’d go nuts for it, or think he was the cheesiest idiot ever born. In which case she’d probably make a nervous excuse and avoid him like the plague from here on out. Sam held his breath and pushed open the door.

Candles flickered on every surface. On the low coffee table, he’d created a heart out of his white meringue cookies. In the middle, the cookies spelled out M + S. At least, he remembered doing it. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Mira, naked next to him. How did he get so lucky?

“I guess, to prevent any misunderstanding, you had to spell it out for me?” She shot him a sly, sassy look from beneath her lashes.

He barked out a laugh. “Yep.”

“Message received.”

Chapter Thirteen

“When do I get to meet the sexiest man alive?” Helen asked, clattering a whisk against the glass mixing bowl at a steady rhythm.

Mira lifted her head, grateful for the excuse to look away from her laptop. She still hadn’t unlocked all the quirks in the new inventory system. Two solid hours of staring at spreadsheet gridlines had a killer headache cued up and waiting to attack. Even her fabulous new high-backed stool didn’t cheer her any longer. “Um, I don’t know. Is this a trick question? Is your book group taking a field trip to a strip club?”

“My book club?” Helen hooted. “I’d bet most of them don’t even watch their husbands strip anymore. The mere sight of man flesh might set them off into a hot flash cycle.” As usual, she wore an impeccably tailored St. John suit—today’s was burnt orange—and never splashed so much as a flake of flour on it.

“Not you, though. I bet you’d sit in the front row waving a fistful of dollar bills.”

“Why be stingy? For a good set of abs, I’d stuff a fiver down their G-string.”

Mira thought, for about the millionth time, how she’d lucked out with Helen. Here it was, Sunday morning, and she’d come in to create one last test batch of focaccia to kick off the preview week. Mira didn’t have to wrestle her spreadsheets in sullen silence, and now they were talking about rock-hard abs? They might not have any customers yet, or earned a single dollar, but already A Fine Romance had eclipsed every other job to be her best managerial experience. She sure hoped the store survived the possibly slow first few weeks to give her a taste of the real thing. Of course Mira wanted the store to succeed for Ivy’s sake, and because she believed in it. But at this point, she also really wanted it to take off because it was flat-out so darn much fun.

“It’s never too early for Daphne and me to start planning Ivy’s bachelorette party. If you’d like to sample some high-class male, uh, entertainment, you’re welcome to help us.”

Helen threw a towel over the top of the bowl and set it near the heat vent to rise. “Thank you for the lovely invitation. But I was asking about my new fellow employee, Hays. I hear he’s hotter than a stack of fresh pancakes.”

Imagery she abso-freaking-lutely did not need. Pancakes made Mira think of syrup, and that led her thoughts straight to Sam. Sam’s tongue. Sam’s fingers smearing things on her for his tongue to lick off. Best to derail that train of thought before her eyes crossed in joy at reliving those moments.

“I won’t bother to ask where you heard that little nugget. I’ve accepted the fact you know everyone and everything.” Mira switched over to email. A steady stream of responses to their grand opening party came in every day. It both soothed and excited her to add names to the RSVP list. Sort of the same reaction she got trying out a new hairdresser. Or trying to cool her tongue with too big a margarita gulp after accidentally chomping on a jalapeño. “Hays is undeniable eye candy. Also as charming as a gigolo and better at upselling than a used car salesman. He’s the total package.”

Helen slid open the doors to the display case, fussing with things for the fifteenth time. She’d moved a cluster of grapes down a shelf, then switched the order of the camembert, Brie and smoked gouda. Mira figured the constant rearranging wouldn’t stop until the first customer asked for a chunk of cheese. “I hate that I keep missing him. Good thing he’s coming on full-time soon. But I can absolutely tell the difference he’s made in the store already.”

“Oh, you noticed he rearranged the fragrance display?” The shelf of mix-your-own perfume scents now sat on the wall between two windows, protected from the damaging heat of the sun by a wide column of bricks. Blown-glass flowers balanced near their namesake bottles. Mira didn’t know if the flowers or perfume would sell out faster, but she anticipated barely being able to keep both in stock.

“No, I noticed you look like you caught up on your sleep. The complete set of luggage that shadowed your eyes for the past few weeks is finally gone.”

Mira bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Definitely a case of quality over quantity. She and Sam had averaged a total of maybe three hours a night of sleep in the past week. They’d been in bed. Well, in the bathtub, shower, on the couch, back to his pastry island to sample two more of his dessert sauces, and then back to bed. At the end of each workday, Sam acted as desperate to get his hands on Mira as if she’d been stationed in Antarctica for eight months, instead of on the other side of the door for eight hours.

Not that she minded. Sam excited her more than any other man she’d been with, and she could not get enough of him. So the immediate, gotta-have-it-now hunger sex happened fast and hot. Once they hadn’t even made it up the stairs to his apartment. Then they’d have dinner. Talk, laugh, catch up on all the little things about each other’s lives they’d missed in the past three decades. It cracked her up to learn that Sam refused to let his father take the training wheels off his bike until his tenth birthday. He made up for the lost time, using a secondhand bike to explore the countryside mile after mile during his time in Europe. She loved picturing the stubborn, scared little boy who’d turned into such a secure, strong man.

Sooner rather than later, Helen would probably figure out Mira and Sam’s relationship had progressed to the sleepover stage. But for now, Mira wanted to play it cool. Otherwise, she’d end up gushing about Sam all day, and the damn spreadsheets would never get straightened out. “I feel much better. Relaxed. Rejuvenated. Like a walking ad for a day at the spa.”

“Glad to hear it. I was worried about you.”

“Thank you. Truly, I appreciate the concern. But I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. I’m all good.” The words rang so true to her. Her dream job (well, her third try at a dream job) had turned out to be better than she’d hoped. A man she couldn’t in her wildest dreams have hoped for delighted her on a nightly basis. Life was so good for Mira, she had no choice but to worry about when the other shoe would drop. That worry scratched at the back of her subconscious like a pimple lurking just under the surface, about to erupt in all its oozing, painful protuberance.

Helen came around to eye the display case from the front. Also for the fifteenth time. “So when will you trot out Hays to amaze and astound me? I need to give my daughter incentive to come home over her Thanksgiving break. He sounds just delicious enough to be the perfect bribe.”

“Hays wanted to be here this morning, but I ordered him to stay home. Next week will be busy and stressful as we tweak things during the soft opening. He started work here about two seconds after I hired him, without any advance notice. I knew he needed a day to deal with the rest of his life before I lay claim to him twenty-four-seven.”

“Do you plan to take your own advice?”

“When we wrap it up here in a few hours, I have nothing more on my schedule than to go home and soak in a bubble bath. Maybe see if I can prop my eyes open long enough to crack a book.” All true, but only because Sam was off to his regular poker night. Clearly the women needed their answer to poker night. Next time it rolled around, Mira vowed to rally everyone to go out, wear stupidly high heels and sip fruity vodka drinks at a trendy bar. Or possibly just go for sushi. She didn’t want to turn into one of those women who pined for her man. Even though she was doing exactly that, staring blankly through the crystal vase display case.

Annoyed with herself, Mira clicked on the next email. She skimmed it in two seconds, then went back and read it a second time. The third time around, to her utter shock, the two-sentence message still read the same. Funny thing about waiting for the other shoe to drop—she never had to wait very long.

“Helen, did I miss a news report? Did Hell freeze over recently?”

“Oh, you mean the draft creeping under the front door?” Helen walked to the front of the store and ran her hands against the floorboard. “Some good weather stripping should fix it. I can ask Dan to rummage through the basement and find some for us.”

“Probably a good idea.” Mira knew she should make a note on her seemingly endless to-do list. Anything to do with her list always calmed her—reviewing, adding, crossing off items. Instead, she got up and paced the width of the store. Her hands clenched and unclenched around the hem of her faded purple Northwestern sweatshirt.

On the turn, her sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floor. The harsh sound jolted Mira to continue speaking. “But I meant in the actual sense, not just today’s cold spell. Hell freezing over, earth turning backward on its axis. Somebody went back in time, stepped on a fire ant and now everyone has an aardvark for a pet and the Tooth Fairy stars in an action movie series.”

“Not last I checked,” Helen said slowly. “Of course, I don’t get out to the movies much. Dan hates listening to an entire theater of people chewing on popcorn.”

Damn. Any one of those possibilities would’ve been better than the reality sitting on her computer screen. Mira squeak-turned again. “What about that Mayan apocalypse thing? Did it happen already? Is it coming up? That could explain it.”

“Explain what? Oh my goodness, will you sit down and tell me what has you so lathered up?” Helen grabbed her shoulders. After a quick squeeze, she steered Mira back to the stool at the checkout counter.

“This email.” Mira tapped her fingernail against the screen. “It makes no sense. Listen to this: ‘Coming for your store’s grand opening. Can’t wait!’” She tapped her fingers again, rolling into a nervous drumbeat. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Weren’t the RSVPs at fifty yesterday? I’ll go out on a limb and assume that means we’ve got at least fifty-one now.”

“Fifty-two,” Mira corrected with a slow shake of her head. “It’s from my parents.”

“Oh. Oh! How wonderful.”

“No. Unless you mean, how wonderfully crappy.”

“Mira, they’re your parents. They love you.”

“They love the idea of the continuation of the grand tradition of the Parrish name. That’s a direct quote, by the way, from a card they sent me for my high school graduation.”

Helen grabbed her still-drumming fingers with both hands and gave her a look overflowing with sympathy. “Some people aren’t great at showing their feelings. It doesn’t mean they don’t have them. So your parents aren’t huggers. And yes, it hurts when they never call, and forget to email. It doesn’t diminish the fact that they’re proud of you. How could they not be full to bursting with such an amazing daughter?”

“I used to ask myself that on a daily basis.” Mira knew she sounded as bitter as the peel on a grapefruit. The kindness in Helen’s brown eyes only made her yearn all the more for parents who’d treat her like family, and not like a piece of stock to be framed and handed down. She pulled her hands away.

“You’ve got to give them a chance to make up for all the times they let you down in the past.”

“No. That can’t be the reason why they’re coming. There has to be a reason that involves the Parrishes. Some way they profit from this visit.” Mira twisted the store key chain around her finger like a ring. And it hit her. “It’s because of my birthday. Their lawyer probably reminded them I’ll turn thirty in less than a year. God knows I’m nowhere close to becoming a millionaire. What if they’re bringing a prospective husband for me?”

“Then our guest list goes to fifty-three, and I consider ordering another case of champagne. Mira, stop panicking. I know you told me about that ridiculous caveat in your family trust, but times have changed. No one is going to shove a husband down your throat. This isn’t medieval Europe.”

Shoving back the stool, Mira paced again, this time going the length of the store instead of across. It meant dodging a few display cases, but being able to take long strides worked off more of her tension. “How did they even find out? I didn’t tell them. I thought we were only getting local coverage with the papers. Even if we got a bump in recognition because of Ivy’s appearance on
Planning
for
Love
, the news wouldn’t be big enough to catch their attention overseas.”

“I did it.”

“Did what?”

Helen stepped directly into her path. “I emailed your parents an invitation to the grand opening.”

Her brain couldn’t begin to process the logistics of such a thing, let alone the ramifications. “How? Most of the time, I’m not even sure what time zone my parents are in, let alone which continent.”

“You don’t fly that far under the radar. Knowing your last name, it didn’t take very long for me to match you with Edgewater Aggregate. I sent the invitation to your parents via the main company email. I suppose an accommodating flunky somewhere along the line passed it on to them.”

She’d never thought of that. Of course, Mira rarely felt the urge to contact her parents. Anymore, that is. Years of unanswered letters, calls and emails had finally impressed the message they didn’t want to touch base with their only daughter into her psyche, like thermal embossing on the finest invitations. “But, why? Why did you do it? Why breach my privacy?”

“You need them.”

“Hardly.” Mira needed a tetanus booster. She also needed the entire city of Chicago to ignore the snarky story the paper did on her and still come check out the store. She needed to figure out how to keep from falling head over heels for the strong, silent and smokin’-hot boy next door. What she didn’t need popping back into her life were two people who cared more for money and status than for their own flesh and blood.

Helen cleared her throat. “Mira, I’m serious.”

“So am I. You think this is a coincidence? That out of the blue, less than a year before I’m supposed to finally prove my worth as a member of this family, they decide to come visit my store? To judge me? And undoubtedly to find both it and me lacking?”

“If they do, then they would be the ones who are lacking. Perhaps I overstepped. It’s always been easier for me to act first and ask forgiveness later.”

Surprise and confusion vied for first place in her emotional horse race, but anger tinged with betrayal was coming neck and neck around the turn. Whether as an employee or a friend, Helen had one hundred percent overstepped. No perhaps about it. “You interfered in my private life.”