Page 96 of Christmas with the Denton Billionaires

“Already done.” They could both hear Chase’s phone ping.

“You rock! Thanks, man. I’ll let you know what she thinks.”

Chris drove back to the community center where the competition was being filmed. It was a pity the grievances he had with Mara couldn’t easily be solved with a double helping of potato salad and maybe some chocolate cake for dessert.

Parking the car, he looked around and didn’t see anyone else in the parking lot, so he took a few deep breaths. He needed to get his head on straight. Whatever had happened between him and Mara last night was a one-off. He was here to compete and win, and Chris had no intentions of settling for anything less.

6

MARA

Mara spent the rest of the second full day of filming feeling like a disjointed string puppet. Nothing clicked into place no matter how hard she tried. Things kept slipping out of her hands. The camera lenses seemed to sizzle on her instead of merely focus.

And Chris’s barbs had gone from snark to venom. And boy was he on a roll, much to the delight of everyone but her. Every time she made a mistake or fumbled something, he was quick with a comment, and she could feel the heat of his barbs and her embarrassment making her already red and sweaty face that much worse. It’d gotten so bad that during brief breaks, the makeup artist popped up in front of her with a smile and a powder puff to “tame the shininess.”

When she’d failed to secure the paddle before turning on the mixer, Mara had ended up covered, once again, in flour. She would have normally laughed it off and attributed it to nervousness, but Chris was quick to catch her mistake, calling her Casper, much to everyone’s glee.

It was like their sex the evening before had merely solidified his resolve to be an asshole to her.

In a way, it was good. Because it helped her not get moony eyed about their incredible sex on that very countertop over there. If she squinted, she could still see the outline of her butt cheeks in the flour. If only the camerashadbeen on, so that they could have immortalized one of her only insanely enjoyable sex experiences in life.

Sad but true. Chris was, and continued to be, the only man who’d ever gotten her off. Even after trudging through her twenties and dating as many respectable men as she could get her hands on, it seemed Chris was the only one who’d gotten the memo about female pleasure. And the asshole was damn good at it too.

Whether or not it involved white flour was an entirely different matter.

She rolled her lips inward to stop a laugh. This was not the time to break into laughter about their secret fuck fest the night before. Nobody had said anything to them about it, so maybe they were in the clear. No scandalized janitor tattling to the director or hints at impropriety showing up on social media. It wasn’t like Mara was going to share the information freely. Perhaps, in all his infinite celebrity wisdom, or malice, Chris had already taken care of it.

It was hard to tell with him. This was his world, truly. She was just a lone baker competing in it in order to make her dreams come true.

“Damn. Your foundation is looking good.”

Mara snapped her gaze up to find Dan standing in front of the countertops, smiling down at her first layer of gingerbread. “You think? It’s still pretty basic.”

“Nah. Nothing about what you make is basic.” Dan flashed her a toothy grin. The man was just as handsome as he’d been back in high school. But the time apart had left her feeling dull about him. Yes, it was nice to see him again, to see a friendly face in a sea of Chef Chris worshippers. But her heart didn’t skip a beat when his gaze flashed her way.

“I appreciate your confidence.” She sighed, propping her hands on her hips as she surveyed her totally-encroached-upon workspace. Chris was shouting orders to his team just a few feet away, and his barking bass made it hard to concentrate. “It’s nice to have somebody believe in me, honestly.”

“Oh, come on. This competition is in the bag for you.” Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets, glancing around before taking a step closer. “What are you doing later?”

She blinked, focusing on the gingerbread seam she’d been doctoring.He’s asking you out.The realization made her throat tighten. “Uh…”

“I want to take you out for dinner. So we can…you know…catch up.”

Something in his tone made it clear that “catching up” had more to do with sex than recounting where the last ten years of their life had gone. Probably a lot like the way she and Chris had “caught up” the evening before.

But that was too much catching up with one too many men. If she caught up with anybody…dammit, she still wanted it to be Chris. Besides, at least as of ten years ago, Dan had firmly been in the camp ofunsure about female orgasms.

“I’m going to be working late during the entire competition,” she said, grimacing. It was true. She just omitted the part about not wanting to “catch up” with him. “Maybe some other time?”

Dan frowned, shaking his head. “I’ll be heading back to New York City as soon as this is over for my next assignment. I only came out for this and another piece.”

Mara sighed and tilted her head back and forth as if she were trying to find a solution. “Well, that’s too bad. Why don’t you look me up when you’re back in town, and maybe we could do something then?”

Dan sent her a smile and rapped his knuckles on the countertop. With a hard glance at Chris, he headed toward the far edge of the multipurpose room where some of the other journalists congregated watching all the action.

Mara sank into thought as she collected the baked pieces of gingerbread prepared by her team. Saying no to Dan was easy, but she didn’t like how ready she was to say yes to Chris again. Not that he’d asked her—not that he even wanted to.

It was better that he was being cold to her today. Mara didn’t like mixing business and pleasure. Last night had been a weird fluke, spurred by her recent dry spell, and seeing Chris again dredged up all her old feelings for him. But that was it—nothing more. She needed to keep this what it was—a competition with a clear winner and a clear loser.

---