Sweet Surprise (12 page)

“When Jana called and asked if you had everything you needed, I gave it some thought. And I figured you probably wouldn’t have enough space, even with those cabinets. I thought you might need some kind of centerpiece for special displays. If you didn’t, there wouldn’t be an issue. You could just toss the table.”

“Toss it?” Her forehead crumpled. “Are you serious? It’s beautiful. And perfect and . . .” She looked up at him, and he completely got lost in the pleasure in her eyes. “I’m very touched that you’d even think of it.”

“Thank Jana. She made the call.”

“I’d rather thank
you.
”

Everything inside him warmed. Even his stupid, locked-up heart did some kind of crazy flip thing. Initially, he’d fought the foolish notions Jana’s call had pushed into his head. He’d battled against the idea that if he made something for the shop, he might have a chance to see Fiona again. And then he had to remind himself that he didn’t
want
to see her again.

He couldn’t see her again.

Seeing her made him want her.

Made him want her bad.

The instant he’d pushed all intelligent thought from his head and began to plan the intricate table design, he had to admit he’d lost his mind.

The week had been long and arduous, the work shifts extra busy, the rescues many. At first, he hadn’t been able to figure out why there seemed to be so much commotion out in the world until he’d looked up and seen the full moon hovering over Texas like a big beacon of crazy. No one really understood why the moon seemed to affect people the way it did and made them do stupid things. It was just fact. Maybe that was why he’d joined the masses of the walking lunatics and once again found himself standing in front of temptation.

Earlier, when he’d walked through that back door and caught her unaware, humming along with the radio, looking like a complete dream in her Lucky jeans, My Little Pony “Flashprance” tank top, and her ponytail swaying against the backs of her bare shoulders, he should have left the table out in the back alley with a note and taken off.

But noooo.

He had to step right in the middle of exactly what he’d been trying to avoid–his serious attraction to this woman.

“Will you help me move the jars over to the table?” she asked.

“Sure.” Hell, he’d help her get anywhere she wanted to go. In the meantime, they moved the gumball-filled jars to the table.

“Hmmm.” She stood back and with her chin cupped in her hand, made an observation. “I need to put things at different levels to make it more appealing.”

“I . . . actually thought of that too.” Oh, God. Now he totally sounded like a girl when the issue really was that he was trying to please a girl. He went out to his truck and came back with the finishing pieces.

“Pedestals!” Those blue eyes lit up again. “They look like cake plates, and they’re perfect for–”

“Your cupcakes.” He watched as she stacked one of the two pink pieces on top of the other, creating a tower effect. Then she placed the apothecary jars in a perfect combination to set off the entire design.

“And they’re perfect for boxes of Annie’s chocolates and packages of Sabrina’s notecards.” She clapped her hands together. “How can I ever thank you?” Unexpectedly, she launched herself into his arms.

Surprise lit him up like a Fourth of July firecracker. God, she smelled so damn good–like sweet, warm woman, and the promise of something incredible.

He wanted to kiss her.

Really kiss her.

He wanted to run his hands all over her soft, smooth skin. To give her pleasure and sink into her slick, hot body over and over until neither of them could remember their names.

Blue eyes looked up into his face as though she was just as surprised as he to be in his arms. The passion in those eyes also suggested she might not mind diving off the erotic cliff with him.

With her firm breasts pressed into his chest and the rest of her luscious body snug against the front of his jeans, desire–hot and gripping–ripped through him, and he completely lost his mind.

Instead of dropping his hands or using them to set her away, he used them to pull her in tighter. Her sugar-sweet scent filled his senses as he lowered his head and claimed the mouth he’d been dreaming of for months. She returned the passion full force. Wrapping her arms around him. Running her fingers through his hair. Arching against him and feeding him hungry, wet kisses that destroyed his will and obliterated his common sense.

Anyone could look through the window and see them.

He didn’t care.

Without a thought for reputation or backlash, he backed her against the counter and lifted her up on top, all without breaking the kiss. She wrapped her slender legs around his hips and drew his erection against the crux of her heat.

One touch.

That’s all it took, and he knew–instinctively–they’d be like fire and gasoline if he could just slide those Lucky jeans down her legs and slip into her eager body.

The kisses grew hotter. Breaths mingled. Desperate to touch, he reached beneath the thin cotton tank top, and caressed her luscious, smooth curves. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers met her bare skin. His fingers searched higher until he filled his hand with her satin-covered breast. A deep, gratified groan rumbled from his throat.

And then she was gone.

“Stop.”

He blinked.

No other word in the English vocabulary could halt a man in his tracks like that particular four-letter word. Unless it was followed by a particular six-letter word.

“Please.”

Yep.

That was the one.

He stepped away. Battled for composure.

Yet one look at her moist, tasty mouth made him want to pull her right back into his arms and finish what they’d started.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. But I can’t.” she said. Regret darkened those once brightly blue eyes. “I just . . . can’t.”

Her visible distress drilled him into the lowest level of hell. He didn’t question why she’d backed off. He simply gave her a nod and did the manly thing by taking the blame. “My fault.”

“Mike . . . you don’t understand.” She held out her hand, beckoning.

But sanity had returned.

There was no going back.

Chapter 8

T
wo hours and counting.

The gorgeous hand-painted sign Reno Wilder created now hung on the front of the ancient building on Main Street.

Sweet Surprise Bake Shop
.

Now open.

Well, in a couple of hours anyway.

The shop’s pink-and-green confectionary décor was light and charming. The aroma of banana toffee, salted caramel, maple bacon, peanut butter and jelly, and red velvet cupcakes scented the air. Everything looked as it had in the dream Fiona had shared with her Gma G so many years ago.

At the prep table, while Fiona finished frosting two dozen spiced chai latte cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and topped them with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a chocolate straw, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming.

Opening day for
Sweet Surprise
was the fruition of the dream she’d had since she’d been a teenager. Along with that dream came worry. She feared her cupcakes would be dry, or the frosting would either be too sweet or not sweet enough. She feared no one would show up. She feared the opening would fail, and she’d fall flat on her face. Just the idea had kept her pacing the floor for the past two nights.

Oh, who was she kidding.

For those two nights, while she’d wrestled with the worry of opening her shop, her concern had been dogpiled by her absolute mortification at the way she’d thrown herself at Mike.

Naughty Fiona had exposed herself and shredded all the good intentions Reasonable Fiona had worked so hard to maintain. She’d thought she’d had that sinful alter ego locked down for good. But no. Put a tempting, amazing, gorgeous man like Mike in front of her, and the hooker stilettos came out like a pair of claws. Humiliation burned her face even now.

“Quarter for your thoughts.”

Fiona looked up and glanced across the prep table, where Sabrina loaded red velvet cupcakes topped with red jimmies and a fresh raspberry onto a glass-domed pedestal. Fearful–and also hopeful–of not being able to handle the big crowds all by herself, Fiona had asked her friend for the favor of her help today.

“My thoughts are probably only worth about a penny,” she said, arranging her completed cupcakes on a paper, lace-covered silver tray. “A tarnished one at that.”

“The blush on your face says different.” Sabrina’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “With that fireman hunk in your life, I’ll bet you’ve got all kinds of racy thoughts flying through that noggin.”

“There is no fireman hunk in my life,” she insisted. Especially not with the way she’d lured him in, turned him on, then shut him down like a total tease. And let there be no doubt, she
had
turned him on. That bit of information had been largely evident based on the change of fit behind the zipper of his Levi’s.

She could take all day to explain her reasons for her actions. The truth remained, Mike made her forget who she was, who she’d been, and who she wanted to be. He made her want to live in the moment, strip off her clothes, and just lose herself in all his good looks, solid muscle, and delicious manliness. He made her want to ditch her vow to take things slow the next time she found an interesting man. He made her want a whole lot of things that probably weren’t very good for her. Yet still, she wanted them. Wanted him.

“You really are amazing,” Sabrina said with a shake of her head. “You know that?”

“Awww. Thanks.” Fiona sighed. “I think you’re amazing too.”

“And obviously you don’t recognize sarcasm when you hear it.”

“I recognize it. I just choose to ignore it.” Fiona pointed to the tray of maple-bacon cupcakes. “Can you take care of those while I do the banana toffee?”

“You should be
doing
that fireman hunk.”

“Let it go, Foof.”

“Can’t.” Sabrina shook her head, and her chestnut ponytail swung across her back. “I’ve appointed myself your
get-laid fairy godmother
.”

“My
what
?”

Sabrina opened her mouth to repeat herself.

“Never mind.” Fiona held up her hand. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“You can’t make up for the bad choices you made in your previous life by being celibate and wearing a crown of goodness over your head.”

“I know I can’t make up for my mistakes. I’m not trying to.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“Not make any more. Isn’t it obvious?”

Sabrina looked up from crumbling bacon bits over the maple buttercream. “It’s obvious you need to get laid.”

“That’s exactly what I
don’t
need. I’ve been there, done that. Is it too much to want a man to fall in love with me before I kick off my underwear?”

“No. But what
is
too much is you closing yourself off to the possibility of finding a man who can fall in love with you because you’re too chicken to take a chance.”

“Boy, this is supposed to be a happy day for me.” She slammed a baking pan into the sink. “I’m finally opening my own shop. I’m my own boss. Life is looking good. I don’t remember ordering up a slice of ‘your life is a pathetic mess, let me throw it in your face’ this morning when I woke up.”

“Not throwing it in your face.” Sabrina sniffed as though
her
feelings were hurt.

“Really? Because that’s what it feels like.” Oh, God. Did she seriously just do a head wag?

“No, what it feels like is the truth.” Sabrina pulled an opening-day pink apron off the coat hook and tied it around Fiona’s waist. “And the truth always hurts.
I’m
not trying to hurt you.
I
want you to be so happy I can’t stand looking at you. But you’re never going to be ooey-gooey-syrupy-sweet content until your life is complete. You’ve made a great start with your recent move and opening this shop. You have an adorable daughter. But you go to bed alone. Every. Night.”

“I don’t need a man to be happy,” Fiona protested. “Or the reminder that my nights are dull and lonely.”

“I know. But you, my friend, deserve a man who looks at you with such love he can’t stand to blink. I just don’t understand why you keep yourself wrapped up so tight you won’t give anyone a chance.”

“First of all, I can’t believe we’re discussing this
again.
But if you want honesty? Okay. Here’s a great big old wallop of it.” A heavy sigh pushed from her lungs. “With my track record and the horrible things I’ve done . . . really, who would trust that I can keep myself on the straight and narrow when
I’m
not even sure I can?”

“Okay. This is me . . .” Sabrina pointed both index fingers at herself. “Trying not to smack you for that monster-sized ridiculously lame-ass comment. You’ve proven yourself over and over. There are plenty of men out there who’d be thrilled if you looked their way. And I can guarantee that hunk of a fireman wouldn’t mind taking you on.”

“Pretty sure he’s got better sense than that.” Especially after what she had pulled a couple of days ago. “Plus, he’s probably got fireman groupies all over the place. You know, like those rodeo-buckle bunnies or hockey-puck bunnies. What would they even call a fireman groupie, a hose bunny?” Fiona imagined a hose bunny wouldn’t give him a great big erection, then coldly send him out the door. A hose bunny would behave just like Naughty Fiona. Reasonable Fiona might not come close to the “bunny” classification, but she rocked the desperate-single-mom category.

“He’s probably with a different groupie every night,” she insisted. And a man who looked as yummy as him should be. “Probably can’t even recall their names the next morning.”

“How do you know?”

Fiona shrugged.

“
¡Chica!
I
never
thought I’d see
you
prejudging someone.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah. You are. And shame on you.”

“Sabrina–”

“For all you know, he could be the perfect choirboy who takes care of the elderly and serves meals to the homeless.”

That made Fiona laugh.

Mike Halsey had the look of a sinner, not a saint. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Give him a chance.”

“He’s not interested.” At least not now.

“
Mierda.
Give me a better reason than that.”

“He’s a hottie fireman who also happens to be Jackson’s best friend.”

“So get over that. And . . . you’d best do it quick.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .”

“Come on, Foof. Playing coy doesn’t suit you.”

“Okay. Because I called him and extended a personal invitation to your grand opening. There. Now, go ahead and have your little . . .” She waggled her hand. “Freak-out.”

“Oh my God!” Fiona’s heart slammed into her ribs. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Gritting her teeth, Fiona wondered if a little blood would hamper her opening-day sales. Because as sure as Hannibal Lector enjoyed fava beans and nice Chianti, she felt like murdering Sabrina before the doors even opened. “Why would you do that?”

“Because he helped you put this place together. Because it was a nice thing to do. Because
you
should have done it.” Sabrina folded her arms and nearly stomped her foot. “And because someone around here–who shall remain nameless–looks at him like she wishes he was laid out on a table, stripped naked, and covered with buttercream frosting.”

“I don’t do that!”

Sabrina’s laugh fell somewhere between a pig snort and a donkey bray, and she let it fly. “Deny. Deny. Deny.” She clamped her hand over Fiona’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy sexual appetite,
mi novia.
You just have to be careful how you use that weapon.”

“I’m thirty-one,” Fiona insisted. “I know all about birth control. Not that I’ve needed to worry about that for a long time.”

“Not talking about that. I’m talking about letting nature take its course. There’s a pattern, you know. You meet a guy. You go out a couple times, get to know each other a little.
Then
you can jump his bones.”

“Sorry. This girl is keeping her feet on solid ground.” For the most part.

“You know, your only problem with Jackson was you did everything in reverse. Not that I blame you. He’s very hot.” Sabrina fanned herself. “All you have to do is slow it down this time. Find out if he’s the right guy
before
you jump him.”

“Hello. Earth to insane woman in my kitchen. I am
not
jumping anyone.”

What Sabrina said made sense but did little to relieve the panic rising in her throat.

“Well, that’s too bad. But if you change your mind . . . he said he’d try to be here after his shift ends this afternoon.” Sabrina carried her tray of sampler cupcakes to the front of the shop, and said over her shoulder, “So you might want to practice a few hurdles or maybe even the pole vault before then.”

After the other day, Mike would most likely steer clear of her. And she wouldn’t blame him one bit. However, Fiona gave some thought to what Sabrina had said.

The concept seemed simple enough.

The only kink in the situation was
her.

Nothing she’d done in her life had
ever
been simple.

“H
ell of a shift.”

Sunrise blossomed in a fiery show as Mike stopped in the station parking lot on the way to his SUV to toss some paperwork inside. He turned to find Jackson coming up behind him with a look on his face that either showed signs of exhaustion, or he was pissed.

“Yeah.” Mike rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension curled up in a knot between his shoulder blades. He noticed the duffel in Jackson’s hand. “Not sure we’ve had the alarm go off so consistently before. Shift’s not over till noon. You bailing early today?”

“That I am.”

Parked next to him, Jackson hit the door lock on his key fob, opened his truck door, and tossed in his duffel. Then he turned and leaned back, crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes.

Mike figured it was too much to hope the narrowed-eye thing was just a squint against the bright sunshine.

“You avoiding me, Hooch?”

“Hardly. We just pulled a twenty-four-hour shift together.”

“Right. And we hardly spoke two words that weren’t work-related. Something you want to tell me?”

A sweat broke out on the back of Mike’s neck.

Where to start?

That he was highly attracted to the man’s ex-wife and that it was practically killing him to keep his distance? Or that two days ago he’d given in and kissed the hell out of her? Or that if she hadn’t put on the brakes, he’d have slid her pants off, wrapped her sexy legs around his waist, and slid into her right there on the top of her cupcake-shop counter. Where anyone and their dog could see and would ruin her reputation as a respectable woman.

Jesus.

Time to come clean.

The Cliff Notes version anyway. Because not even he was ready to face the idiotic moves he’d recently made.

“Your mom called in my charity debt by having me help Fiona move in the rest of her things and get them organized,” he said. “She also asked me to build some cabinets for the cupcake shop.”

“Oh. Well, thank you for that.”

The lines at the corners of Jackson’s eyes smoothed out, and Mike wanted to sigh with relief even while guilt fisted around his throat.

“That’s really nice of you,” Jackson said. “Between finishing my own house and planning the wedding, I’ve been tied up. So has Reno, with mom and Charli working on opening their antique-and-design shop. And we haven’t seen much of Jesse since he and Allison tied the knot. But he smiles a whole hell of a lot more now. And that’s saying something.”

“Good to be a newlywed I guess.”

“Fiona’s grand opening is today.” Jackson opened the door to his truck. “You coming by?”

That would be a big hell no.

He might have made a vague commitment when Sabrina called with a personal invitation, but he was pretty sure Fiona wouldn’t want him there. When he and Fiona had parted, she’d made it clear he’d overstepped the line. Even if she’d done a hell of a job kissing him back, Mike knew, for a myriad of reasons,
they
could never happen. She was his best friend’s ex, and he was just too fucking broken.