Page 31 of Silver Seconds (Tempted in Texas)

"Didn't realize the sunset tasted so fruity."

I lean over to wash the fruits in the sink. "Well, what else would it taste like? Besides, that's how you get the sunset colors."

"And the last flavor? Let me guess—pineapple upside-down cake with apple buttercream and mixed berry filling?"

"Are you finished?"

Over my shoulder, I hear him chuckle again. "Never."

Involuntarily, I smile to myself. Enjoying the back and forth we're having, despite my worry.

"It's actually a lemon chiffon cake, ombre style," I say.

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see. It's the one I'm most excited about, and I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

* * *

The restof our baking session goes much the same way.

Despite his jokes, Brett does everything I ask quickly and well. I have him start to mix the buttercream base in one of the stand mixers, and even when I ask him to grind up the freeze-dried strawberries in the food processor, he does so without question.

And the whole time we work, I find myself catching glimpses of him when I think he's not looking.

He's impossiblenotto look at.

The width of his shoulders beneath his shirt. The way his pants stretch against his thighs. The waves of his hair at the base of his skull. Things I haven't thought of doing with a man in years suddenly come back to me. Like a part of myself I thought had been lost was really just hiding, locked deep inside. And Brett has a key to unlock it.

But that's all this is. Attraction. Looking. Wanting. There are plenty of other things in my life that I wanted but never got to have. What's one more addition to that list?

As the thought settles into my mind, I can feel my sadness blooming once again. But I have to believe this. It's the shield I've learned to protect myself with. An exoskeleton of survival I've built up in my mind. Without it, I could lose all I am. All I've worked so hard to be.

These words slither into my mind, my wants and my base desires wrestling each other endlessly. As I pour the hot coffee into my chocolate batter, I step back, intending to grab the jar of mayo, when I suddenly feel him at my back.

I must have been too distracted to hear him approach, to realize his closeness. My rear connects with his lap, my back with his chest. His heat shoots through me, his tantalizing male scent playing around my nostrils.

I freeze, but he just laughs again, stepping back. “Sorry,” he says. "Didn't mean to stand so close. I was just curious."

Words have escaped me. I can still feel the warmth of his body on my back. It was such a brief touch, but it's been stamped on my skin.

"So that's the chocolate cake," he says, leaning past me to look into the bowl and thankfully, not at my flushed face.

I force myself to breathe again. "Yep." My voice sounds strained. I try to clear my throat.

"But you put coffee in it." Finally, he does look at me, eyebrow raised. "And it's not meant to be coffee-flavored?"

"Nope," I say. Baking. Talk about baking. "Pouring hot coffee into the batter actually helps boost the chocolate flavor. They won't taste coffee." I grab the jar of mayo.

"Does the mayo do that, too?" he asks, peering at the jar in my hands.

"Adding a bit of mayonnaise actually keeps your cake moist once it's baked," I explain.

"I guess that makes sense. Mayonnaise is just eggs and oil," he muses thoughtfully. He sends me another of his smiles, and I feel myself quiver inside. "You're pretty clever. This has been a lot of fun."

As he helps me slide the filled cake pans into the oven, and I'm still looking for a distraction, I ask him, "Hey, Brett? You said you used to bake with your mom?" If I get him talking about something else and not teasing me so much, maybe I won't feel so tempted.

"Yeah. I did say that."

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