“I don’t, as it happens. Why, are you famous?”
He studies me, apparently trying to decide whether I’m lying. “Are you here as part of the children’s auction? A schoolteacher, maybe?”
I snort. “God, no. I’m terrible with kids. I wouldn’t know which way up to hold a baby.”
His lips curve up. “Are you someone’s plus one?”
“Nope. Totally here on my own merit. Mainly because nobody will have me.”
“I don’t believe that,” he scoffs.
“Believe what you like. My boyfriend dumped me last night, so…” I glower at my glass, then have another big mouthful of the drink.
“His loss, my gain,” he says softly. “I’m very sorry.”
I shrug. “He was an opinionated wanker, and I’m glad to be rid of him.” Except I’m not. I miss him terribly, which makes his rejection and abandonment even harder to handle.
Feeling morose, I study the plates of complimentary appetizers and cakes on the bar, choose one of the tiny cupcakes, and bite into it. Ooh, the frosting is soft and creamy. Yummy.
Caesar watches me eat it. Then he says, “You’ve got some frosting…” He taps his upper lip.
I run my tongue across my top lip to try and remove it. “Is that better?”
“No…” He studies my mouth. “May I?”
My heart leaps into action, crashing against my ribs as if it’s playing a glockenspiel. I nod, and he lifts a hand. Gently, he cups my chin, his fingers resting on my neck, and brushes his thumb above my top lip.
His touch brings goose bumps out all over my skin, and my nipples tighten in the bodice of the dress.
He removes his hand and looks at the small blob of frosting on his thumb. Then he inserts it into his mouth and sucks it off.
His gaze lifts to mine. I’m speechless, and I can only stare at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“No… it’s okay… I’m just fighting the urge to pick up the other cupcakes and smear the frosting all over my face.”
That makes him laugh. “Come on,” he persists, “tell me your name. I have to be able to call yousomething.”
“Then call me Cupcake.”
He grins. “All right, Cupcake.”
“What shall I call you?”
“Sir?”
My lips twitch. “I’m not calling you sir.”
“Then… Commander? Captain?”
I giggle. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
We both laugh and help ourselves to another cake.
“So come on,” he says, biting into his, “tell me something about yourself. Why are you here tonight?”
“I had an invite.”
