And he was beyond terrified.
Unlike last weekend, he made sure he was fully dressed and clean before she arrived at the bakery. When she knocked at the back door, coolly composed and gorgeous as ever, he immediately waved her inside while his heartbeat echoed in his damn ears.
Then he shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets before she could see them tremble with nervousness. Thrust his chin toward the relevant worktable instead of speaking, so his voice couldn’t waver.
“Hi again,” she said, and he grunted in response.
Not a good start. She already had doubts about his communication skills. Silence and caveman sounds would only confirm them.
He’d do better the rest of the day. He had to. No choice.
Before he managed to grasp the right words, though, she was already speaking. Already moving toward today’s setup, the thighs of her own jeans swishing together with each step. Only to slow to a halt once she saw the only uncovered item on the table.
“A blindfold, huh?” She turned on her sneakered heel to face him. “Are we mini-golfing today? Or did you decide to takeCosmo’s suggestions this go-round?”
He replied without thinking. Immediately regretted it.
“If I’d listened toCosmo, there’d be a bed,” he told her, then inwardly groaned.
Shit. Now he was thinking about Dearborn naked in bed. Even more than usual, and that was damn well saying something.
“I’m sure not all their suggestions involved beds. There are always walls. Chairs.” Her head tipped toward his setup, and her eyes met his boldly. “Tables.”
Holy crap.
He sucked in a hard breath. Made himself think about workplace sanitation guidelines. The health inspector’s last visit. How he’d be unable to escape memories of fucking Molly every time he came to work if they did it here.
“Like you’d know.” Deep breathing wasn’t doing the trick. Neither was impending middle age. Something about Dearborn made his dick stand up and take notice. Always had. Probably always would. “Lay good money you’ve never read a goddamn issue ofCosmoin your life.”
“Then you’d lose that money.” When he raised a skeptical brow, she rolled her eyes. “I’ve had dentist appointments of my own, Dean. Occasionally, my choice was eitherCosmoorPeople, and I was freaking tired of hearing about some minor celeb’s”—she crooked her fingers—“‘weight loss journey.’ But reading about blowjobs always made the time pass more quickly.”
He choked on thin air. Began coughing violently.
Moving to his side, she thumped his back helpfully. Even though she knew exactly what she was doing to him, and why he couldn’t accept her implicit offer.
When he caught his breath, he stared at her balefully. “You’re a piece of fucking work, Dearborn.”
Her lips quirked in a self-satisfied smile. “Well, some of those waiting-room articles were also about how to”—crook, crook—“‘drive your man crazy.’ I just chose to take that concept in a slightly different, more literal direction.”
“You sure as hell did.” He shook his head at her, then pointed tothe table where the blindfold and multiple amorphous lumps covered with clean dishcloths rested. “Sit.”
“Woof-woof,” she said, but plunked that fine ass down on one of the two stools he’d placed beside the table. She looked up at him expectantly, and Jesus H. Christ, he wanted to kiss her so goddamn much.
He jutted his chin toward the silk band and all the lumps. “Blindfolded taste test. AnotherCorporations Todaysuggestion.”
Her dark brows rose. “Really? That sounds more likeCosmomaterial.” She paused, idly drumming her fingers on the table as she considered things. “Also like potential ground for lawsuits and sexual harassment claims. All those CEOs and middle managers are surely old enough to have visited a Blockbuster. Did no one ever rent9½ Weeks? Or at least secretly watch it on late-night Skinemax while their parents were out of town?”
“Told you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Managerial types? Kinky as hell.”
Her big blue eyes blinked up at him. “You’rea manager.”
Yeah, he guessed he was. Wouldn’t necessarily call his preferences kinky, but... wait. “Quit causing trouble, Dearborn. Less sex talk, more trust building.”
Her hands raised in surrender. “Fine, fine. Just making light conversation.”
“Bullshit.” He produced his reminder list from his jeans pocket. It crinkled as he unfolded it. “Okay. Here we go. You’re blindfolded. I feed you crap. You—”
“Not literal crap, I presume?”
