“Tempting. But I think we can be more creative than that.” A moment later, she felt his finger brush her lips. “Taste.”
When she didn’t open, he ran his finger along her lower lip, waiting for her to lick it off. “That taste like buttermilk to you?”
“No.” It tasted like foreplay, and suddenly all she could think about was that all-night-long kiss he’d promised but never delivered on. “It still doesn’t solve the consistency problem.”
“One thing at a time,” he teased. “All we need is a pro to tell us how long to set the timer.”
“The video said to do it by sight,” she explained. “So why don’t you just tell me when it’s ready?”
“You’ve got everything you need right here,” Hunter said, pressing forward, his hands slowly working their way around her waist, hisnose burying itself in her hair, and it felt like a solution she could get on board with.
In fact, this was an adventure she was more than ready to take. Sex with Hunter would be more exciting than cupcakes, frosting, and a trip around the world. Talk about expanding her horizons.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He whispered back, low and sexy in her ear. “Looking for something. Be patient.”
She didn’t do patience. Even better, she had a map she could give him that would lead to all her somethings. But his fingers seemed to have internal GPS, because they were on a direct path to her big something and Mackenzie held her breath. They slid lower and lower, until—
“Found it.”
Mackenzie wanted to argue that “it” was a few inches lower and dead center, but his fingers were back on the move, headed north, away from the promised land, and—he grabbed her cell.
Then—poof—his fingers were gone. Leaving nothing but a wave of quivers and need in their wake. “What are you doing?”
“Being supportive,” he said, sounding way too amused. “Now stand still. I needed your phone to download this new app. It’s still in the beta phase, but it is supposed to replace all the apps you have in one convenient, voice-activated bundle.
“Just tell me what you want it to call you.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know: Sweater Cupcakes.”
“Sweater Cupcakes?” she asked.
“First thing that popped into my head.” More fiddling, and then he spoke slowly. “How long does it take to whip cream?”
A computer-generated voice filled the room. “Here is what I found, Sweater Cupcakes. It will take approximately four minutes to whip cream using a hand mixer, ten minutes using a whisk.”
“That’s incredible,” she said, taking her phone.
“It’s a search engine that will convert any text to speech, and if you take a photo of an object, it will tell you what it is. You just have to push the center button on your cell. Like this.”
The camera-phone shutter sounded, followed by, “Lucerne heavy whipping cream. Half gallon.”
“It will also tell you the difference between a yellow peach and a white peach, so you don’t have to rely on the produce guy to know where things are,” he said. “All you have to do is take a photo of the sign in the bin and it will read it to you.”
He pushed the button again, and her phone recited the brand and flavor of cake mix.
A warm zing flittered through her body over his thoughtfulness.
“Wow,” she said, completely touched. “Where did you find this?”
“I know a guy.”
“You know a guy who told you about it? Or you know a guy who built it?”
“I know a guy,” was all he said, as if what he’d done was nothing more than make a phone call. “I was testing out some of the tools for the visually impaired. Some are okay, but most of them sucked, so I asked a buddy for help. He says this has every function you’ll ever want. It can tell the difference between a five-dollar bill and a hundred, gets up-to-the-minute bus routes, and can even tell you when your bus is arriving.”
“Hunter, this is ...” She trailed off, the emotion too thick to continue.
“Useful?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “I looked at the apps you had and figured this could be more useful. I say give it a shot. If you don’t like it, no biggie, we can just try something else.”
