Page 64 of Under Daddy's Spell

Lunch consisted of grilled brats topped with sauerkraut and caramelized onions on the soft, warm pretzel buns he lauded. The sides were crispy fries and a tasty caraway seed slaw. Jordan wolfed his down and chased it with a dark German beer they had on tap.

When he caught her watching him consume this carb fest, he protested her scrutiny. “Don’t judge. I had a rough night.”

“I say that a lot. How do you think I got to be a real head turner?”

When he froze, eyes wide, a fry he’d pilfered from her plate halfway to his mouth, her laughter rang through the near-empty German restaurant.

They sat in a booth with Jordan sliding in on her side. It was quiet at first, but, as the noon hour approached, any intimate discussion vanished as the place filled up.

Even so, he was attentive, stayed close with either his thigh or shoulder constantly brushing against her, or he took her hand in his, on or below the table. He didn’t seem to care which, unafraid of PDA. When he held the butter mint they brought with the check to her lips, she opened for it, and he followed it with a warm, minty,more than the lunch crowd was probably used to seeingkiss.

When he escorted her inside, he took advantage of her unoccupied storeroom and turned her into his arms. His mouth claimed hers again. Since they had privacy, his hands were under her skirt and inside her panties, cupping her bottom. And he didn’t refrain from testing out his no-bra theory.

By the time he ended it, her heart was racing, her nipples were tight, and she didn’t doubt she’d spend the afternoon wishing she kept a change of underwear at the store.

“Dinner is at your place tonight,” he reminded her, seeming as reluctant to part as she was. “What do you like?”

“I’m too full to think about food. Surprise me.”

“That I can do.” His fingers sank into her hair, and his mouth brushed hers lightly, lingering long enough for his tongue to lick the length of her kiss-swollen, tingling lower lip. “I don’t want to go, but I should let you get to work.”

But he still didn’t release her.

“See you tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, coherent sentences still not coming easily after his befuddling kisses.

He moved away slowly, and, when she didn’t collapse in a puddle at his feet, which amazed her, turned to leave. Tessa’s gaze followed him, taking in his strength, his effortless grace for such a big guy, and the way his jeans molded to his magnificent ass.

At the door, he glanced back, catching her staring.He grinned but didn’t call her out on where her eyes and thoughts had wandered.

“I almost forgot. The guys want more brownies.”

“Oh, good. Angie will be thrilled. Do they know they’re low carb like her muffins? Should I ask her to make more of those? Maybe blueberry this time. They’re her most popular item.”

“No. Just the brownies for now,” he replied.

To Tessa it sounded too quick, and she thought she saw a muscle jump in his cheek.

“I brought a dozen peach muffins over on Saturday. Didn’t they like them?”

“The guys hoovered through them. You can’t leave food at the gym. By the time I got to them, there was only one left.”

He hadn’t answered her question or explained the twitching muscle in his face. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“No one wants to hurt Angie’s feelings, but the consensus was they tasted kind of wonky. Maybe it was the peach?”

“Wonky... Huh? I’ve never known anyone who didn’t like her muffins. Peach or otherwise.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? Not everyone likes bacon, either. But the brownies are perfection. I had three last week, so I’m glad to hear they’re not loaded with sugar.”

“Tell the guys they’ll have a fresh batch before the end of the day.”

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Then he winked, and still grinning, was gone.

Practically floating, and no longer minding his nickname for her, which had stuck evidently, she pushed her book cart to the front of the store to resume her restock.

Angie, who was refilling her bakery case after the morning and noon rush, glanced up at her through the glass. When she stood, still holding the tray of cream-cheese-frosted cinnamon rolls she’d been transferring to a tiered cake stand, she arched a brow knowingly. “From the look on your face, and the beard burn on your cheeks, I’d say lunch with the hot gym owner next door went well.”

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