Page 8 of Twisted Contract

“No, you shouldn’t have, but since you did, you will follow through. Enough said. Be a good girl like you’re supposed to,Claudia.” That was all that needed to be said because there would be hell to pay otherwise.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say to no one since he hung up on me. I set the phone down, wanting to cry. His dismissal feels like a deep blow to the chest, as if the wind just got knocked out of me. Sometimes I wish I had the courage to speak my mind and move on from him, cutting the only family member I have left out of my life, but it’s as if I can’t break through that last vestige of a familial bond. Maybe one day I’ll have the strength, but today isn’t that day.

Wiping away the warm wetness from my face, I hear the alarm go off on my phone, alerting me that it’s time for my clients to be arriving any minute now. I set up the taste-testing samples, and then I go in the bathroom to look over my appearance. Even though I’ve been baking all morning, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t present my best self to them. I yank off the hair net and give my amber waves a brush out before setting them up into a high ponytail. Grabbing a lint roller, I run it over my clothes. My top screams creative professional, so I hope they don’t take me too lightly—but I suppose they’re here for my cakes and Nora’s a sweetheart, so it should be less pressure.

I take a deep breath and remember that I’m a baker, not a model or an office professional. My light pink kitten sweater and black leggings with white gym shoes should be just fine. I give myself one more look in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom.

Just then, there is a knock at the door. It’s a man in a suit, but the sunlight is beaming in so I can’t see who it is. My guess is that it’s Mr. MacNamara. I open the door and I’m floored—inappropriately so.

“I’m here for the taste testing.”

“Please come in, Mr. MacNamara.” I look around him and see that he’s alone.

“Thank you,” he says, stepping inside my shop, making it feel so much smaller.

“Where is Nora?” I ask, closing the door behind him and locking it.

“She couldn’t make it. I thought she contacted you already,” he says. My mouth falls open, and I’m distraught. This whole thing is pointless. I check my phone, and I do have a missed call and a voicemail. It must have come in while I was in the kitchen trying to ignore my father’s calls.

Chapter Four

Connor

Fuck. I thought my eyes were deceiving me from outside, but she’s got to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s not even wearing a lot of makeup. Who the hell let her walk around looking so damn beautiful and talented? I watched her from the window long before she realized I was there. Hell, I don’t know if this place has exterior cameras, but I arrived earlier than the scheduled appointment and saw the door was closed. Scoping it out, I damn near thought of all the reasons to kidnap her ass even though I was only here for the cake—and she had a nice piece of cake.

She wasn’t open for another two hours. This is a special meeting they scheduled, and I’m the lucky fuck to be getting her all to myself. My dick is so damn hard I could cut the glass in front of me, but I need to go inside before I freak her out. I grab the door handle and feel like I could tear it off in a heartbeat. I take a cool, calming breath and enter the shop.

She opens the door and her mouth falls open, but then she quickly masks the lustful attraction. I know why when she asks for my sister-in-law. She’s made the assumption that I’m Jack. The naughty girl doesn’t want to upset her client.

“Good morning,” I say, giving her a crooked smile with my hand out to her. She blushes and remembers her manners, sticking out her delicate hand. I take it and caress it gently.

“Good morning, sir.” God, the soft, delicate feel of her skin on mine shoots up my spine, but I do my best to ignore the instant arousal. I’m here on business. Perhaps I’ll take her business card and call her for a date another time.

“I’m here for the MacNamara appointment,” I say, cocking my brow while keeping her hand still tightly locked with mine.

She quickly yanks it away and wipes our connection off on her pants. Fuck. Why does it make me harder?Deny all you want, beautiful.That refusal may actually make me want her more. “Oh, yes. You must be Mr. Jack MacNamara. Where is the soon-to-be Mrs. MacNamara?”

“She couldn’t make it this morning, and I’m not Jack. I’m Connor, his brother.” I quickly correct that misguided notion so that she and I aren’t on different pages. Is that why she pulled away from me?

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were…because of the wedding plans, and this is a big deal to them.” That sexy blush that covered her pale cheeks is back, staining them red. It clashes with her pink kitten sweater, but I wouldn’t be offended if she removed it. Damn, my mind is rushing to places it shouldn’t. My brother trusted me with an important task. I can’t just bend the cake designer over and fuck this whole thing up because she’s got me rock hard.

“Well, they trust me to do a good job.” I lean in and brush my hand over her heated cheek. I was right; she’s either got the best makeup money can buy, or she’s not wearing any on her delicate skin. “Are you a little warm?” I ask.

“I’ve been baking all morning. Sorry,” she says. It’s a mix of the truth and a lie at the same time. I love it. Don’t be too vulnerable with me because I’ll take advantage of it, sweetheart.

“Why don’t we get this cake thing started, Miss…” I want all her details directly from her sugary-sweet, glossy pink lips.

“Claudia Murphy,” she answers. She bites her bottom lip like it’s a secret or something.

“Well, Claudia, please.” I wave my hand and she walks past me, giving me a perfect view of her heart-shaped ass, and I swear she adds an extra sway to her walk. Fuck. I bite down on my knuckles, wanting it to be her ass. Wow—I’m about to grip those cheeks like a sick fucking pervert if she gives me a hint of an invitation.

“So, Mr. MacNamara.” She’s nervous. I’m not sure if it’s the situation or me. Perhaps it’s both.

“Call me Connor,” I insist, crowding her space.

“Connor, we have several varieties of flavors. Nora didn’t have a favorite because she wanted to taste them, and she said something about pleasing John? I’m assuming she meant ‘Jack’ in her text. Autocorrect, you know.” She giggles, and normally that would annoy me about a woman, but from her it’s sexy.

“No, she means John. He’s my younger brother and he has autism, so she wants to get a flavor he’ll like.”

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