Page 1 of Icing on the Cake

PROLOGUE

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Eisley

Twinkling lights illuminate the festive party venue, casting a warm and inviting glow over the roomful of invited guests. Handcrafted ornaments adorn the sparkling holiday tree, standing tall and regal by the crackling fire. Guests mingle and laugh as they catch up with old friends and business acquaintances while I stand quietly near the exit, planning my escape.

This is my first year attending the small business association’s annual holiday party. When I received the invitation, I thought it must be a mistake. I don’t conduct business through the typical brick-and-mortar model. I run my baked goods business from home, with my primary advertising stream coming from word-of-mouth referrals, the occasional social media post, and farmer’s market pop-up stands.

I’m out of my element, a bundle of nerves, questioning what I’m doing here, and then he walks into the room with a whoosh of brisk winter breeze in his wake. His sculpted physique, confident stride, and easy smile draw the attention of everyone in the room. His dark, tousled hair and strong jaw peppered with neatly trimmed stubble add to his rugged charm.

Goosebumps rush up my spine, splintering to my extremities. I shiver, but far from succumbing to winter’s cold. Warmth bubbles in the pit of my stomach, stirring my nervousness to a fever pitch. I’m captivated by his mysterious appeal, no longer contemplating my early departure. Instead, my mind reels with delicious, dirty thoughts I have no business entertaining.

I follow his every move, rapt with attention. He extends his hand to a fellow partygoer, and as if by extension, I feel his firm caress against my skin. My pulse quickens as I inhale a quick, gasping breath.

Holy Moses. If my body reacts like this from afar, what would it be like up close and personal with his hands on my body?

The room spins as he casts a glance in my direction. Fiery heat bursts through my bloodstream when his piercing chocolate-brown eyes meet mine. His lips quirk into a seductive smile, and my insides quiver, melting into a puddle of buzzing neurons and frayed nerves.

He excuses himself and makes his way through the crowd, shaking hands while flashing his magnetic smile. I watch in awe at how easily he charms each person he meets as he works the room, drawing ever closer to where I stand on the fringe of the room. When I realize he’s striding toward me, I temporarily panic and retreat to the doorway I’d previously considered my early exit. I stare as he stalks toward me, stricken with embarrassment, wishing I could melt into the wall.

“I’m Beau,” he says, extending his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t.” I stand rigid, unable to process what’s happening inside my body as my nervous system goes berserk. The man takes my breath away.

Beau’s smile widens. His eyes dance with mirth as he gently takes my hand, prompting me into movement.

“I’m–uh, I’m–Eisley,” I stammer as my body reacts to his masculine charm. “Eisley Holland. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Beau says with an easy drawl that lures my heart into an erratic pitter-patter. “Mistletoe.”

He glances upward, and I follow his gaze to the bundle of greenery hanging overhead. My heart lurches to a full gallop as he towers over me, dwarfing me with his size. He draws his fingertip along my jaw, then lifts my chin with the crook of his finger.

“May I?” His deep voice trickles through my veins like warm honey, melting me from the inside out.

“It’s bad luck if we don’t.” My heartbeat lodges in my throat, and I fear swooning could be detrimental to my health.

His eyes darken as I tremble, captured by his large personality and charm. His lips brush against mine, featherlight and full of confidence. The toe-curling kiss is full of panty-melting fire and heat. I’m completely smitten and utterly in love with the feel-good pheromones racing through my body, all due to one man and his glorious, talented lips.

But the moment of a lifetime is short-lived. We’re interrupted when a gentleman taps Beau on the shoulder. He releases my lips, sending my body into immediate withdrawal.

“I enjoyed meeting you, Eisley.” Beau holds my gaze for a second longer, then turns his attention toward the bothersome man who interrupted the best damn kiss of my life.

The man pulls Beau into conversation and eases him into the crowd. Beau never looks back. I watch as he greets more guests, wishing I were as comfortable in my skin as he is. We’re polar opposites. He’s the center of attention, and I’m an eternal wallflower.

He’s out of my league, and I’m out of my freaking mind for thinking there was anything more to that kiss than keeping up with a silly holiday tradition. I do what any reasonable woman would do after experiencing the kiss of a lifetime. I savor it, tuck it into my memory bank, and slip out the back door before I embarrass myself further.

Get it together, Eisley.

CHAPTER 1

6 MONTHS LATER

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Eisley

The reception hall erupts into a spontaneous clatter of applause as Grace and Tom, the bride and groom, take to the dance floor. A hush sweeps over the crowd as the intro to “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran begins to play. Guests surround the parquet tiles, cocooning the lovebirds in a cloak of love and friendship as they take their first steps as husband and wife. I’m heartened that the newlyweds opted for a traditional first dance instead of a showy, choreographed number. That kind of dance is fine, but it lacks spontaneity.

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