Yep. He was still there.
“Not you,” he dismissed me easily, focusing a little too intensely on my mouth. There was a twinkle in his eyes that reminded me of Christmas morning or the last day of school. “I was referring to this little beauty.”
Nimble fingers nabbed the precious cupcake out of both my hand and mouth with such finesse I almost didn’t believe it was happening. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes—or LSD-inspired imagination, as I hadn’t ruled that out yet—then I doubt I’d have felt the cupcake being taken at all.
“You can’t just rush into someone’s mouth like that. They need to appreciate every granule of your sugary goodness,” he lectured while giving my cupcake a stern look.
I gaped, recalling my earlier web search on schizophrenia and deciding it couldn’t hurt to get a doctor’s opinion. Hallucinations were one of the main symptoms.
Then I watched in a dumbfounded mixture of revulsion and fascination as this cape-wearing baked-goods thief proceeded to make love to my cupcake with his mouth.
His tongue eased out before slowly licking across the same dollop of buttercream icing I’d had my own tongue against just moments earlier. In third grade, we would’ve considered that kissing.
From the way his eyes turned half-lidded as he took the slowest bite known to man—with a moan that made my toes curl—I’d go ahead and say we might as well have cleared second base.
“Oh my God.” I wasn’t sure if I breathed it or prayed it, but nothing about this felt real. Maybe Teresa had knocked me out when I’d tried to attack the cupcakes, and this was a concussion-inspired dream.
My borderline moan snapped Mr. Magician out of his baked-goods-lovefest as he finished off the last bite and sucked on a piece of the wrapper. His gaze shot up, and he had the audacity to look surprised that I was standing there to witness such an intimate scene. But realization hit as he lowered the empty wrapper and gave me his full, far less risqué attention.
“Actually, the name’s Finn,” he said, accompanied by an icing-covered smile. Playful green eyes took in my face, and something told me this was honestly the first time he’d really taken notice of me since confiscating his new lover. “But you can call me whatever you want, as long as it keeps including ‘oh’ and ‘my.’ ‘God’ was a nice touch, too.”
I was beginning to wonder if arrogant males were native to Southern California.
“What about ‘cupcake’ and ‘thief’?” I asked calmly while eyeing the empty wrapper in his hand and trying to remind myself that there were other cupcakes in the world. It wasn’t worth getting attached to just one. “Would those be suitable?”
“Oh, shot to the heart.” Finn clutched his chest theatrically. Smiling eyes gleamed down at me. “Dessertandthe most flattering of pet names. Is your name, by any chance, ‘The Perfect Woman’?”
My blood boiled.
“My name is none of your business. The only thing you should be worried about right now is that you stole my cupcake,” I said, trying not to raise my voice but feeling entirely validated in my growing anger. “A cupcake that I was very,verymuch looking forward to.”
“As you should have.” Finn smiled before licking the last crumbs of fluffy white cake off his fingers. I wanted to cry.
But another part of me was itching to lick them off myself. I blamed my sweet tooth. Or hormones. Maybe both.
“I’m so happy you enjoyed it,” I said flatly. I leaned back against the van in defeat as I tried to recall the difference between self-defense and cold-blooded murder. Maybe I could claim he was attacking me instead of reaching for the cupcake? “How… how did it taste?”
I didn’t want to punish myself further, but I had to know.
The handsome magician grinned, so open and happy that I kind of wanted to punch him in the face. “Absolutely divine. Possibly the best cupcake I’ve ever had in my life.”
Definitely wanted to punch him.
I settled for frowning. “Yeah, well, you have icing on your lips.”
“Really?” Finn’s brow rose, and he leaned forward as his eyes dipped to my mouth. “Care to help me get it off?”
Anger overrode the hormones.
“Oh, sonowyou’re willing to share some of the cupcake?”
He shrugged innocently, but there was nothing virtuous about the glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”
“You are absolutely shameless,” I said with a half-hearted scoff. But he was more impish than creepy, which made part of me want to come out and play. “Don’t let the cupcake overhear you talking to me like that. You might hurt her feelings.”
“Don’t worry, she’s in a better place now.” His grin was all male as he patted his stomach. “And I think her last memories were fond ones.”
“Yes, I’m sure being licked to death is a wonderful way to go,” I said. Then the words caught up to me and my cheeks heated. I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?”
