Page 42 of A Taste of Trouble

“We've enjoyed your company immensely, handsome,” Austin slurred.

“Agreed. It was nice to have someone else to talk about sports with,” Brett added.

“I talk about sports,” Austin interrupted.

Brett groaned. “You talk about sports clothing and how men look in said clothing.”

“It's not my fault that the football uniform was the single greatest fashion creation of the twentieth century.”

“I'm partial to baseball myself. All those strong thighs and tight butts.” Patti squeezed her hands in the air in front of her.

Jake laughed. “What's your favorite uniform, Liv?”

That was a no-brainer. But it wasn't exactly a uniform. And it was funny that Jake fit the profile. “Hockey players in their suits before and after the games.”

There was a beat of silence at the table while everyone focused on Jake's suit, then Austin asked, “Jake, did you by chance play hockey?”

“I'm from London. Of course I played hockey.” He winked, and Liv's insides fluttered.

“I think I'm going to call it a night. Just going to run to the bathroom first.” She stumbled back and her chair screeched across the wood floor as she retreated.

She gripped the sink and stared at the coward in the mirror. Why did this man make her so afraid to go after what she wanted? Why did he make her forget everything else she needed to get done? She had a million things to think about this weekend before she opened the doors of Cupcake! on Monday—more like a million minutes of worrying to do until Monday—but all she could think of was stripping off his clothes and having her way with him.

But this had to be the last time she gave herself permission to think about Jake Miller. Tonight she would go home, use his beautiful body one more time in her dreams, and leave him in the past. A conquest never conquered. A desire never achieved. A man too hard to attain.

Liv had hoped he'd already be gone when she returned to the table. But when she stepped through the bathroom door, that thought was crushed. Jake leaned against the wall, one leg at a ninety-degree angle, his arms folded across his chest. His chiseled muscles bulged through his dress shirt. He smiled at her with such enthusiasm, like it had been years since they last saw each other. Not two minutes ago, when they were secretly stealing glances across the table.

Stunned by his presence, she forgot to walk the full way through the doorway, leaving the heavy wood to smack her on the ass. She vaulted forward, right into his arms.

“You're a clumsy one.” He laughed as he held her awkwardly. He pulled her up onto her feet and steadied her in front of him.

“Thanks. I think it's all the alcohol.” Not really. She could barely get the liquid down because of her nervous stomach. “What are you doing, standing all by yourself?”

He reclaimed his position against the wall. His eyes roamed her body. “I was just waiting for someone.”

“Oh.” She could see the slight pull in the front of his pants. She could barely put a sentence together. “Me?”

He grunted, a caveman-like sound, and when he lunged she jumped.

He rested his hands on her hips, moving her back, away from the door, trapping her against the wall with his pelvis. She could hear her friends laughing in the background. Did they know what he was up to?

He had the same clean scent. His intentions were clear. The intensity of his stare said it all. So did the stiff bulge pressing against her stomach.

His hands tightened against her hips. They were both panting, skin moist from the contact of their heated bodies. She hoped he couldn't feel her heart pounding. Everything about his body language told her that he was going to kiss her, and when he slid one finger under her chin, her stomach fluttered with excitement.

His eyes met hers. “Do you think I would have spent hours sitting with you if I wasn't interested in you?” His breath was like liquid heat caressing her sensitive skin.

The rest of the world fell away. There was no bar, no loud classic rock playing in the background, no pine scent wafting from the swing of the bathroom door. Just the sound of his low rasp sending her into oblivion.

His lips skimmed the contours of her face. Lucky she was near the wall, or she would have slumped to the ground the minute his hands touched her. She let the strength of his body take control.

“Maybe I'm just clueless.” She let out a small giggle. “Clumsy and clueless.”

“And a comedian.” He pressed his lips flush against her neck. She couldn't stop the low groan that escaped. It was primal. Hungry. If he asked her to strip right at this moment, she would. She would do anything to satisfy the urges that had taken over her body.

“Our two weeks is up,” he whispered. “And you need to take me home with you tonight.”

Hell yes! “I do?”

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