Page 1 of Cupcake of the Month
Chapter 1
“Why do I suspect that a game called Cupcake of the Month has nothing to do with baked goods?” Jordan accepted a glass of white wine from the mustard yellow-tuxedoed server and ignored the text vibrating her clutch on the round table in front of her. Even the loud chatter at the fundraiser couldn’t drown out that annoying buzz.
Lana let out a laugh that twinkled like her shimmering gold gown under the strings of white lights. The dress set off her brown skin, and her black hair cascaded in waves over her bared shoulders. “This is what you do. Drop hints, flirt, smile at the server and watch who reacts so you know your competition. And when he chooses you…”
“You take home a…” Jordan gestured to the waitstaff. “Cupcake?” Since temporarily moving to Georgia at the beginning of summer, she hadn’t tried to meet anyone. The literal dessert sounded much better than getting tangled in a relationship.
“For a night. It’s a fresh batch at each function. Some of them are definitely worth baking again.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Some of them get stale.”
This game wasn’t Jordan’s style, even considering her competitive nature. She’d be returning home alone. Home currently meaning her room in the renovated stables behind her friends’ Inn at Fountenoy Hall.
“Take this one, for example,” Lana murmured as a server approached a group near them. “Eager eyes. Maybe too eager, so he’d be an easy pick for a newbie. Young enough to still have energy after a few grueling hours serving at a party.” The man in question gestured over the tray with his left hand. “Oh, wait, no. Foul. Tan line on the third finger.Imbicil. He must think we’reblind.”
When he came to them, Jordan took the offered spinach pastry anyway. Lana shooed him away, and he moved on to the other guests.
Jordan leaned toward her friend. “The servers are in on it? All the servers?”
Round tables with orange cloths dotted the space at the Robillard Youth Club, and servers poured copious amounts of alcohol, turning the after-school hangout into an adult party.
Lana always knew how to have a good time, and being her plus-one to her many social engagements was a nice change from helping at the Inn and running errands for Wendy and Brandi. But this game was a new revelation for her.
“If they’re not, they learn pretty quick. Either a coworker tells them or they respond positively to the flirting. Avoid the ones whose smile is perfunctory. They’re not into it.”
“You’ve never played this game around me.” The wine in her glass moved ever so slightly, courtesy of her vibrating phone. She continued to ignore it. “I haven’t even seen a scorecard. Or a calorie counter.”
“I’ve been hesitant to let you try your hand at baking,” Lana said. “I’ve been the reigning champion for a while, but with your big doe eyes and flawless, creamy skin, you’d barely have to smile and men would line up to be in your batter.”
Jordan rolled her big doe eyes. “Right.”
“See that guy in the corner?” Lana nudged her arm. “The one with those burn-my-clothes-off wicked smile?”
Jordan took a sip of wine and looked where her friend pointed. And then took a larger gulp and squinted through her glasses. Oh, no. Not here. Not him. Not Josh Lukasik.
The ugly tuxedo couldn’t hide his feline grace or the power in his lean body as he presented a tray with dark brown nuggets. Really, he could have been holding a platter of dungbeetles topped with toe jam and be as edible in this decorated gymnasium as when she saw him last. Which was naked, in her bed.
She swallowed hard, unable to stop her body’s heated response to seeing him again.
He glanced her way, and the tray took a precarious dip before he righted it. He probably hadn’t expected to see her any more than she had expected to see him. Didn’t matter. She had sampled this particular cupcake eight years earlier and had committed to a strict no-Josh diet ever since.
“He’s okay, I suppose.”
“Just okay?Ay, Jordan, you need to clean your glasses.” Lana shook her black mane. “I’m practically drooling over here.”
Jordan shrugged and tapped her fingers on the smooth tablecloth, averting her eyes and fighting the impulse to beat a hasty retreat. If she left now, he’d know it was because of him. She couldn’t have that.
Her phone vibrated again. She should silence the damn thing.
“You know if you don’t respond to that text, whoever it is won’t stop,” Lana said.
“I know.” If she started checking the communications from her lawyer, she wouldn’t stop until she had uncovered every little detail of information and picked apart every nuance of unwritten meaning. There was no point in continuing to ruin an already less-than-perfect evening with her pending litigation.
Movement caught her eye. Josh had disappeared behind a group of people, and she let herself relax. A different server approached them with a smile. “May I interest you in a shrimp and grits cup?”
The staple of the South. Jordan took one.
Applause rippled through the crowd and she turned to see who had caused the commotion. A woman with flaming red hairwaved from the doorway, smiling at those who clapped at her appearance.
“Oh, I didn’t know Erica McGraw was coming tonight,” Lana said. “Good on her, a politician showing up at a local fundraiser without sending a press release.”
