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Another knock made her flinch before she barked, “Who is it?”
“Asher Diamond.”
Surprise rocked her back on her heels, her heart suddenly high up in her throat for a whole different reason. A frantic glance down at her faded gray T-shirt and black leggings made her realize she was clutching the bowl of chocolate batter for dear life. Letting go of the whisk, she raised her hand to her hair. She hadn’t even brushed through it when she got home. Just gathered it up into a ponytail and then twisted it into a haphazard bun. And she’d washed off all her makeup.
This was so not fair. He could be covered in dirt and grease and still be hot as hell. But of course, he wouldn’t be after his parents’ party, so it was doubly not fair.
“What do you want?”
“To apologize.” There was a beat of silence, then, “Hopefully not through the closed door.”
Man, come on!
“Please?”
Fine. She’d give him a few seconds to apologize, and then he could leave. Short and quick so there would be no time to drool over the man.
Or throw herself at him.
As she started to swing the door open, she caught a glimpse of his dress shoes and black pants when the timer started beeping. “I’ll be right back. I gotta get those.”
Honor hurried back into the kitchen, deposited the bowl of batter on the island, shut off the timer, and grabbed her pot holders. In the middle of pulling the lemon blueberry cupcakes from the oven, the sound of her front door closing registered, followed by the unhurried tread of Asher’s shiny black shoes on the hardwood floor.
So much for short and quick.
“It smells like heaven in here,” he commented.
She turned around and nearly dropped both pans in her hands. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in six feet plus of oh-my-God-I-want-him-now. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead, he sported that rugged five-o’clock shadow, his tux jacket was gone, his bowtie hung undone around the unbuttoned collar of his snow-white dress shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned, muscled forearms.
Annd, so much for not drooling.
He stopped on the opposite side of her kitchen island. “You do know it’s after one o’clock in the morning, right?”
Recovering a fraction of her sanity, she set the cupcakes on the counter before reaching back to shut the oven door. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I just got home and saw your lights on.”
Imagining him driving around in his Camaro made her mouth water even more. She turned back to move the individual cupcakes from the pans to cooling racks as she asked, “And it seemed like a good idea to walk on over?”
He leaned forward to rest his elbows and forearms on the island, putting the two of them at eye level. “I wanted to apologize for what happened. Since you were up, sooner seemed better than later.”
She kept her gaze on her task. If she focused on busy work, she wouldn’t focus on him, because sure as shit, one look up and she’d get lost in his gorgeous eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. I don’t blame people for things that aren’t their fault.”
“Still. I am sorry. Rox went a little overboard.”
“A little?” She scoffed and started stuffing empty liners in the pans for the next batch. “She accused me of jinxing my cakes and breaking up happy couples in front of everyone. Some of the guests had asked for my card—and then there’s your parents and your sister. She was going to hire me for her wedding cake, but I can guarantee you that’s not going to happen anymore.”
A quick glance through her lashes caught the grimace on Asher’s face.
“You don’t know that,” he said.
He wouldn’t convince anyone with that weak argument, least of all her. “I saw Celia’s face. No way she’s going to hire me now.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t have to talk to her.” Renewed anger surged as she finished the liners and reached for the bowl of batter. She set it down again with a thump and glared at him. “What the hell did your friend Rox mean when she said, ‘I felt it when I touched her’?”
He hesitated a few seconds. “She’s psychic.”
