Page 484 of The Christmas Wife

A weird look comes into his eyes. He rubs at his temple. “I’m here because my grandfather is the chairman of the Davenport group of companies, and he thinks your bakery would make for a good investment.”

“He does?”

“I’m yet to be convinced,” he sneers.

So that’s how it's gonna be, eh?

He glances toward the counter, taking in the various desserts on display, and his frown deepens. I follow his gaze and take in the tray of cupcakes displayed: Sp1cy Scene, Red Room, Velvet Ties, Purple Patches, Cave Wonder, The Vanilla Vajayjay, The Earth Moved. You have to admit, they’re innovative names for the treats.

I named the first one in jest, but it proved to be a hot topic of discussion among fellow spicy book readers like me. Before I knew it, I ended up naming all my desserts in a similar vein.

In fact, the dessert shaped like the backside of a woman and called Spanking New keeps selling out. And then my other hit, a chocolate cake shaped like a vibrator and called C1itasaurus. Yep, they loved that one. Also, another raspberry-infused one in the shape of a fig called Moist Goodness. And finally, the doughnut-shaped treat called—you guessed it—A1phah0le, which is always a hit when I cater at book events.

"Is this a joke?" He stabs his forefinger at the display.

A-n-d that was the absolutely wrong thing to say. No one insults my baby—my bakery, my dream—and expects to get away unscathed.

"I can assure you; they are popular amongst my customers."

He turns those searing eyes on me, and it feels like I’m looking into the coldest depths of a frozen lake. The surface seems able to bear my weight, but one wrong step, and I’m going to fall right through and never find myself again. I try to breathe, but all of the oxygen in the room has been sucked out by his presence. My pulse crashes in my ears, and my nerve endings are so tightly stretched, I fear they’ll snap any second. And when he stabs a hand in his pocket, pulling the fabric of his pants taut over that bulge between his legs, a slow thud flares to life between mine.

Icannotfind him attractive. Cannot risk acknowledging this chemistry that thickens the air between us. Not when I need his help to save my business. Not when I know who he is, and he’s definitely out of bounds. Forbidden. Sirens go off in my mind.Back away. It’s not worth taking on the humungous backlog of complications that’re going to come with having anything to do with him.

Then a look of boredom crosses his face. He yawns, and my pulse rate shoots up.

Strike out everything I felt earlier. It’s definitely worth taking on every challenge that comes with getting him to cough up money, because by god, he needs to realize the world doesn’t revolve around him. How can anyone be this full of himself? This insensitive.

Anger squeezes my chest. Adrenaline laces my blood.And how dare he turn the most important meeting of my life into…into…something that doesn’t merit even a few seconds of his attention?

"I’ve seen everything I need to see. Goodbye." He turns to leave.

Think! You need to say something to stop him. You cannot afford to piss off the one guy who might be able to help save your bakery.

"Wait, don’t you want to taste my wares?" I burst out.

He freezes mid-step. His shoulders seem to swell. The planes of his back rise and fall, and the jacket pulls even tighter.Is he going to burst out of his skin and go all Hulk on me?I swallow. And when he turns slowly and makes a growling sound at the back of his throat, I have to stop the yelp that almost spills from my mouth. Every single cell in my body has woken up and is doing the hula.Stop that. You can’t feel this drawn to this…to this arrogant beast who rejected you.

But I also need his help. I have to save my business from going bust. And if that means swallowing my pride, then so be it. I tip up my chin and straighten my back. "I… I mean, maybe you want to taste my Honey Pot?"Ugh. Didn’t mean it to come out like that.

His left eyelid twitches, and he seems one step closer to either having a breakdown or walking away. Neither of which is desirable.

"Oh, shoot. What I meant to say is, you’ll definitely like the Purple Patches." I point to the range of cupcakes showcased under the counter. "Or of course, you could try The C1itasaurus?"

"The whatasaurus?" He tilts his head. His gaze is, once again, fixed on my mouth. My thighs clench, and moisture laces the flesh between my legs. I push away the burst of awareness which seems to have stuck its claws into my skin. No way am I going to give in to his magnetism, which has only multiplied in the years since I last saw him. Especially not when his jerkhole factor hasn’t reduced either.

It's always been a mystery to me why I found his arrogance such a turn on. Now, I’m also reminded of how he always managed to get on my nerves. Not that it stopped me from throwing myself at him. A mistake I’m not going to make again. When I named that particular cupcake, it seemed like a stroke of genius. Having to pronounce it aloud in front of the Hulk, however, negates any laughs I’ve had about it so far.

"Uh, you know what I mean?" The color of my cheeks deepens and spreads to my chest. My entire body seems like it’s on fire.

"No, I don’t," he says in a low, hard voice.

I shiver. "You know that…that… pink pastry between the blue cakes that looks like…" I glance around, then slide open the glass door to the under-counter area. I pull on a pair of gloves, reach in and, instead of the C!itasaurus, slide one of the fig-shaped desserts onto a plate. I place it on the counter. "Actually, I think you should eat my Moist Goodness, and everything will be clear to you, and?—"

I hear a gnashing sound, and when I dare to peek a glance at Mr. Grouchy Face, the muscles of his jaw ripple.Oh no, at this rate he’s going to crack a molar. Or two.I blink rapidly, “Maybe we should start afresh?”

“Start afresh?” he asks in a tone that implies he’d rather have never met me.

Yeah, me too. Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury.“You know, pretend we don’t know each other. Pretend the last few minutes never happened?” Pretendthat kissis not seared into my brain, and into other parts of my body I’m not going to think about.

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