Page 30 of Cupcake of the Month
He stabbed a few meatballs and glared at her, his eyes piercing. “It had nothing to do with you.”
“I never said it did.”
He nodded as if that was the end of the conversation. She waited for him to speak again, but nothing else came out of that infuriating mouth.
“You’re the one who said I should own my decisions, and I finally decided to get an answer as to why you snuck out of my apartment and left me. Just left me, without a word or text or anything. I’ve got it now. You’re just an asshole.”
She spun and strode away from Barb’s booth. The squeak of shoes followed, with Josh moving behind her with his cat-like grace. He grasped her arm and led her toward a door marked for vendors.
He would have stopped, she knew, if she dug in her heels, but her body overrode any sense of pride. She followed, almost running along with the length and speed of his strides. He pushed open the door and stopped behind it, his breath coming hard and fast.
His breath fanned her skin, his face inches from her own. His full lips paused millimeters from hers before closing the scant distance.
Oh, God. He tasted even better now than he had eight years ago. She twisted her fingers in the waves of his hair, enjoying the softness. His lips feasted on hers as if she was an exotic delicacy, nibbling and tasting and savoring. He backed her against the wall, their bodies perfectly aligned, the heavenly feel of his taut muscles against her. His hands ran along her ribs and down her skirt, leaving a trail of heat to her core. She squirmed againsthim, wanting that feeling all over.
Footsteps squeaked down the hall, along with someone whistling. Jordan froze, and Josh lay his hand on her head, letting her hide in his shoulder until the person entered the event.
Oh, God. This was a mistake. The fire and chemistry meant nothing without trust. Jordan took a step back, fighting to control her breathing, and pushed him back with a hand on his chest. His heart pounded hard against her palm.
Her traitorous body may be ready to take a risk but there was still too much of the unknown. Too many bakers in his kitchen. Too much still unanswered between them.
She turned on her heel and fled back into the event without saying a word.
Chapter 6
Josh kept his face impassive as Jordan escaped into the convention hall, the click of her shoes echoing down the hall until they disappeared into the cacophony. He was such a fuck-up. What the hell had he been thinking?
That one was easy to answer. It was the hot, raw energy that had passed between them. The sensual way she moved against him. The craving that consumed him any time she was near.
The memory of her that kept him company on lonely nights.
Life would be easier if Jordan was still angry and avoided him instead of setting his world on fire every time they were together. A pang of longing shot through him. She deserved so much more than a man who turned on those closest to him. Yes, his mom and stepdad were the ones who embezzled the money. But it was his testimony that convicted them.
He was supposed to be loyal to his family, and instead he turned on them like a starving dog fighting for a scrap of meat. It was why he had to take such care with Zach, to prove he wasn’t a selfish bastard like Marian and Clint.
He slunk back to Barb’s booth, unease tightening like a fist in his belly. A group of women passed and he ducked his head, recognizing some of them from catering, ones who flirted and sized him up and wanted to get into his kitchen.
“So, who’s she?” Barb placed fresh meatballs on a tray when he returned.
“Jordan Shoenover.” Josh added a cucumber and carrot garnish, then gathered the tray and stepped in front of the booth.
Barb’s hands kept moving in sure, steady motions. “She’s not one of your regular bakers.”
“She’s not a…” Josh took a deep breath. “Never mind.”
A surge of patrons visited the booth as the event wrappedup, clamoring for the last few morsels of chicken meatballs. He managed a grin at Barb over their compliments. Not bad for a home-grown chef who had learned by instinct instead of attending a secret-agent cooking school.
Finally the last few guests of Plates of Macon strolled out the door of the convention center. The music quieted and a hum of conversation took over the space. Noise levels rose as they stacked their pots and pans and filled travel containers. Josh and Barb traded samples with the Greek and the vegetarian booths next to them, earning appreciative nods and giving them in return.
Once everything was cleaned up and the leftovers packed, he helped Barb load the van, still feeling Jordan’s body pressed against his own. At this rate, he was going to need a cold shower when he got home.
“That’s the last of it.” Barb slammed the van door closed and gave an exaggerated scan of the parking lot, moving her entire body as she surveyed the nearly deserted space. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Josh followed the path of her eyes but saw nothing that would cause concern, only other caterers packing their vans and talking among themselves. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no one in a fancy car waiting to take you home.”
After kissing Jordan, after feeling her soft skin, thoughts of other women left a lead ball in his stomach. “I’m pretty wiped. Between Fountenoy Hall and catering, I didn’t get much sleep this week. Mind taking me home?”
