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Yes, suddenly it was very important to me that she fall in love with me.
“One bite for each of us,” I said. “As part of the experiment.”
She stared at me another long moment, and I wondered if she could tell I was undressing her in my mind. I couldn’t seem to stop the image of her naked beneath me. Or on top of me. Any position would do as long as I could run my hands over those curves and make her cry out with pleasure.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ve probably eaten hundreds of these muffins over my lifetime and never once have they made me fall in love with someone.”
“Then how do you know they work?”
“Almost every couple in my family fell in love after the man ate the muffin.”
The man. So it was all about me. But had they’d fallen in love with the woman who baked it. Was that the connection?
It didn’t matter. I’d convinced Tinley to try it. She turned back to the muffins and put one on a plate for me.
“We can share,” I said. “No point in wasting an extra muffin you could sell tomorrow.”
She grabbed two plastic forks and turned toward me, holding them out. I reached forward and took one of the forks, our hands making contact in the process. One slight touch of her bare skin against mine and I wanted more, so much more. But I had to stay focused here.
I put my hand on the plate to steady it and sliced a generous section with my plastic fork. It was a lot harder than it looked. The shaved-off section of the muffin plopped down on the plate, leaving me to try to scoop it up. Finally, I got enough on my fork to get a decent taste and lifted it to my mouth.
My eyes involuntarily shut as flavors exploded in my mouth. I’d swear it was the same berry scent I’d inhaled when I first leaned toward her. Did she smell like her muffins? Maybe that was by design.
I swallowed and opened my eyes again, smiling. “Perfect,” I said. “Now it’s your turn.”
She watched me another long second like she expected something to happen. Were the effects instant? Because I felt no more or less in love with her than I’d been before. I wouldn’t call it love. Infatuation, maybe. A desire that ran deeper than anything I’d ever known, definitely.
Love was a big word. Love took time.
She took a bite, keeping her eyes on me as she chewed and swallowed. It was like she was trying to prove nothing would change. And nothing seemed to change.
Damn, I’d been hoping for magic. It was silly, I realized now. But it wasn’t that I believed the muffin actually did anything. It was the power of suggestion at most. But this magnetic pull I’d been feeling for her had nothing to do with the muffin. It’d been there all day.
“Do you want the rest?” she asked.
I shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”
I took the plate, setting the plastic fork down on it. Enough of that nonsense. I picked up the muffin and bit into it, letting the crumbs fall onto the plate. It might be bad manners, but the muffin was good. It was moist and flavorful without sacrificing that crispy glazed top that was the best part of a muffin, if you asked me.
“You said you made these Monday?” I asked.
“Sunday afternoon. Sorry if they’re a little dry.”
I shook my head. “They’re perfect.”
Her smile lit up her face, making me remind myself to compliment her baking as often as possible. I loved seeing her like this.
Love. There was that word again. Was the muffin doing it?
“I hope you’re going to make more,” he said. “I’ll really talk them up to the guys.”
Her eyes widened. “That might be too much.”
“There are only seven of us. Too many to make?”
I glanced at the box. It looked like it would hold a good dozen.
“Too many guys getting all lovestruck at once. There’s a shortage of single women in this town, remember?”
