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I nearly retch. “Why would I do that to chocolate?”
He tosses his head back and laughs. “Why wouldn’t you is the better question. Earl Grey is one of the few things that can make chocolate even better. Someday I will bring you one of the finest Earl Grey chocolate bars.” He takes a beat to let his gaze hold mine. “It’s my favorite. I’m helpless before it.”
He’s talking about chocolate, but it feels like he’s talking about me. The way he stares. The way his eyes linger on my face.
My chest swoops.
And, once again, temptation strikes.
The desire to kiss this man is powerful, but I find the will to resist.
I stop in front of my apartment and turn to Weston, the gorgeous and potentially-not-evil owner of the shop across the street. “So, you didn’t plan to lure me in with sex and then commit heinous acts of corporate espionage? I mean, you are the competition. And I’m not just talking about the Mr. or Mrs. Sweet thing. Your shop is literally right across the street, primed to siphon away my business.”
He looks stunned, as if no such thought has ever crossed his mind. “I honestly never thought about it that way.”
“What way did you think about it?” I ask, legitimately curious. “You saw a well-established dessert shop already here and decided to open another one?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing really. There are cupcake shops and ice cream parlors all over the neighborhood. They all seem to be doing well. I suppose I figured there was enough room for a pie shop and a cozy nook for tea, scones, and finger sandwiches. But truly, it wasn’t something that concerned me. For good or ill, it never entered my mind.”
I sigh, nibble my bottom lip, and sigh again.
West cocks his head and lifts an expressive brow my brother would envy. It’s a brow that says, “can we be friends now?”
And I guess friends seems the way to go.
“Yes,” I say to the most-likely-not-evil West. But sadly, that doesn’t change things for us. Our businesses might end up harmoniously co-existing, but we’re still adversaries.
I know myself. Another date, another time with him, and I’ll lose sight of my priorities. Sweetie Pies is my focus. The Mrs. Sweets competition is my big goal. Anything else with this man will distract me.
“Yes, you believe me?” he asks.
“I believe you, but I don’t think we should keep that lunch date. Not when we’re going to be pitted against each other in the heat of battle.”
He grins that charming, sexy grin of his. “I don’t know. We faced each other on the field of battle the other night and ended up getting along just fine.”
“Scrabble is different,” I say. “Scrabble is a game. This is business. Serious business. I assume you agree, or you would have dropped out of the contest by now.”
He sobers. “It’s important to my sister that I compete. And, upon closer thought important to me too.”
“I completely understand,” I say, pain flashing in my chest. I do understand, but that doesn’t mean I have to like being forced to turn my back on the first guy to make me feel beautiful and desirable in so long.
But this is part of being a business owner who puts her work family’s needs first.
I stick out a hand. “May the best baker win.”
His fingers curl around mine and squeeze, sending longing dancing across my skin. And then he pulls me into him, and my breath rushes out as my breasts collide with his chest.
I start to pull away, but I don’t want to. I want to give in. I want to be kissed again. I want to know if his beardless kisses are as delish as his bearded ones.
Then, his hand is cradling my head, and his lips are on mine, and he’s kissing me the way he kisses me—like I’m delicious and delightful. Like I’m the last bite of warm raspberry trifle smothered in melting ice cream and he’s determined to savor every little scrap of me.
His tongue teases against mine, then strokes, making my breath come faster and my arms twine around his neck like vines seeking the steadiness of a sturdy stake to climb.
And yes, I want to climb him. I want to jump into his arms, wrap my legs around his hips, and order him to my bed, posthaste.
Clean-shaven West kisses as spectacularly as bearded West.
But that’s the problem.
I could drown in these kisses. I’m not a hater, I’m a lover, and having a lover like him will turn my brain to pear mush.
He pulls away and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Just a goodbye kiss. For good luck,” he says in a husky voice.
Damn. His voice melts me too.
Yes, it’s best I didn’t issue any ill-advised invitations to take him to bed. I need to rest and focus, not get lost in West’s kisses.
