Page 25 of Partnering with the Artist

He winks. “Something to remember me by while we’re apart this evening. As you kiss the frosting, imagine that kissing me might be half so enjoyable—it wouldn’t be, of course, but a little delusion is good for romance. Which we are concocting. Rather successfully.” He pinches his chin. “I think.”

Um. Yes. Very successfully. Already a thousand times more successfully than Harry ever did, and we weren’t faking. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Brow rising, he murmurs, “She didn’t deny making out with the cake this time… Cake makeouts confirmed? More at seven.”

A giggle escapes me. “Quit it. You’re too much.”

“On the contraire, my sweet. Beside your exquisiteness, I am naught. A fly. A gnat. A mere blade of grass, brown and wilting, sent hither and thither at the whim of the wind.”

Given the regal way he carries himself, it is hard to imagine he has self-esteem issues. Even though he talks like this, he also callednormal people“peasants” about thirty minutes ago, so…

I think I’ll refrain from slipping therapist business cards into choice locations of his bedroom for another week. Yup. Good plan, Mae.

Finishing up my cake, I say, “Is there anywhere else you think the wind’s blowing you today?”

He stands before I can scoot out my chair and helps me up. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”

“I’m not sure how well this cake will survive in the car…”

Amusement tints his eyes as we head toward the cashier desk at the front of the establishment. “Am I being stood up…for a cake?”

“No.” I look elsewhere, cradling my styrofoam container securely in my hands. If I trip before getting safely to the car, I will sacrifice myself for this parcel. No questions asked.

Zakery’s eyes burn against my face the entire time he’s paying. Unconvinced, he hums. “We can take your precious cake home before our next stop.”

So thereisa next stop. I glance at him, projecting curiosity as the cashier returns his card.

“I was planning to take you to the craft and fabric store so I can get you whatever you might need for your dress. I don’tknow how long it takes to make a gown suitable enough to complement your radiance, so I want to make sure you have as much time as is possible.”

The craft and fabric store, he said?

My grip indents my foam to-go container.

He’s taking me tothe craft and fabric store?

His gaze trails my face as he returns his card to his wallet. “We don’t have to, of course. I can tell you’re very eager to have some alone time with your cake.”

“No.” Whoa there. My voice soundedveryfunny just now. I clear my throat and try again. “No. No, we can totally go to the craft and—” I clear my throat again. “—fabric store. My cake can wait.Happilywait, even.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am so very positive.” That I want to do anythingbutabuse the power he’s bestowing upon me. I wouldnevertake advantage of his credit card in order to get pretty things. I have a task. A selfless task. I cannot embarrass him at the Creator’s Ball. I must make certain to create a gown befitting a Bachelor brother’s date.

(I am going to make the fluffiest, most elegant, most princess dressever.)

Pink. Ribbons. Bows. Tulle. Crinoline.

The options areendless. As endless as this man’s card limit, I betcha.

Ah, shucks… I think I am going to abuse this. Big time.

Zakery holds his eyes to mine while I drift off into magical—plausibly maniacal—places. At last, he says, “I fear for my life.”

Deranged, I chuckle. “Fabric store.”

“Indeed.” Looping an arm behind my back as he pops his wallet back in his pocket, he escorts me outside. “Just you, and me, and yards and yards of fabric. Howromantic. We’re killing it at this dating thing. Go us.”

Unbidden, I shiver.

---