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Smiling to put her at ease even as his body tightened with primal hunger, he swiped the back of his hand across his tingling lips to remove any remaining frosting. “No problem.”
“Occupational hazard, I guess.”
He cocked an eyebrow at the odd comment, trying to muddle through the lust fogging his brain.
“I can’t help but taste,” she explained with a cute, sheepish grin. “Um, when I’m baking, I mean.” She gave a roll of her eyes and another smile. “Not that I’m baking now, obviously, but when I am, I can tell by the taste of the batter if it’s missing something. Everything has to be just right.”
Batter?
Asher turned to eye the cake.
No.
“Oh, no—don’t worry, the cake is safe,” she quickly assured him. “I don’t lick my fingers and put them back in the bowl. I always wash my hands. Well…almost always.”
The admission brought his gaze back to her as the dread in his gut mushroomed.
She laughed and cringed at the same time, her hands rising to press against her red cheeks. “I’m going to shut up now. Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“How is it you know Shawn and Miesha?” It was a dumb question. He already knew the answer. He didn’t want her to confirm it, and yet he hadn’t been able to keep from asking on the off chance he was wrong.
Please be wrong.
She lowered her hands to her sides as she said, “I designed the cake.”
Shit. “You’re Honor Hartman.”
Her smile faltered at his flat statement. “Guilty.”
His lewd libido jumped up and kicked the romantic sap’s ass while he imagined this real life version of Honor Hartman across the street from his house, in the kitchen wearing a skimpy apron—and nothing else.
“Son-of-a-bitch.”
CHAPTER 3
“Excuse me?”
Honor’s shocked, offended question was spoken to the man’s back as he strode for the exit. She blinked when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rude disappeared out the door, realized her jaw hung ajar, and snapped it shut on a disbelieving laugh.
The outright rejection stung after he’d seemed interested. Hell, at one point he’d seemed more than interested—right after she wiped the frosting off his lip and his amber eyes darkened beneath the wavy locks of near-black hair falling over his forehead. Everything inside her had gone on alert, her breath seized in her throat, and her already racing heart stumbled in her chest. With the way she’d been single-mindedly focusing on her business the past year, the visceral reaction had knocked her totally off-balance.
Speaking of which, she still couldn’t believe she’d touched his mouth and then licked the frosting off her thumb!
Belatedly, she turned and swept her gaze around the room. Hopefully, no one else had noticed the intimate gesture. Sam wouldn’t be happy if she goofed everything up after they’d carried their charade through the entire evening.
She did some unnecessary arranging of the sage green napkins while thoughts of the photographer crowded back in, along with a twinge of disappointment. Obviously, he’d heard of her, but what had he heard about her that sent him running for the foothills? He’d looked distressed when she confirmed she’d baked the cake.
Maybe it was the finger-licking?
No. She hadn’t mistaken the smoky flare of desire in his gorgeous eyes. And she’d never met a guy who didn’t find that somewhat of a turn on—even if she hadn’t done it intentionally.
Still, she wondered at his abrupt departure. She didn’t think it was the tall brunette she’d seen him with—they acted more like friends, or siblings. They hadn’t even danced once.
Hmm. The rare man she dated more than once or twice didn’t usually run away until after they met her mom. Much as she loved her mother, Honor silently agreed with anyone who had the nerve to declare her certifiable. As for her dad, well, no one had ever stuck long enough to meet him.
You’ve never kept them around long enough.
True. But better to leave than be left. A fact she witnessed up close and personal with her mother four times now. And each time, her mother fell apart until she found the next man to take care of her. Until he didn’t. Made it a little hard to buy into the whole I love you ‘til death do us part thing when exposed to that kind of carnage over and over.
