Page 44 of Cupcake of the Month
His body vibrated while his heart was about to storm down the hallway.
“Damn it,” he muttered. He couldn’t lose her a second time. “No one else.”
She stopped. “Just like that?”
He pushed himself away from the bar and covered the distance between them in a few swift strides. She waited, her eyes dark with a desire that flamed his blood. Her body trembled, and his responded in kind.
“Keep your damn hands away from your mouth,” he growled. “It’s mine.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. A purr of pleasure escaped her lips as he nibbled their contours, her soft body melding against his. He shifted to her neck. Need, want, hunger, all surged through him as he inhaled the citrus scent that remained distinctly Jordan.
Eight long years alone. Without her. This was his fantasy resurrected. Her hands caressed and massaged as they made their way down from his shoulders and crept toward his ass. The movement thrust him closer to her heat, rubbing his erection against his jeans. He didn’t mind one bit.
“I have to leave.” Jordan pressed a kiss against his cheek andspoke near his ear, sending a frisson of heat over his skin. “Come see me tonight after you’re done here. For a little dessert.”
Her words sent a cold splash to his system. He had to go home, spend time with Zach to prove he was a priority. Sunday dinners were important, even if Josh would get there late. Saying no to her would mean explaining. How he betrayed his mom and stepdad. How he ended up caring for his thirteen-year-old half brother. How his life had been a lie. So he only nodded, unwilling to upset the one bit of happiness he’d been able to glean.
She pressed a kiss against her finger and placed it on his lips before heading back to her room.
Fuck.
Since there was no other outlet at Fountenoy Hall, no hanging bag to beat up or book to pretend to read, he left the stables and channeled the surging energy into the kitchen. It was too early to start dinner service, so he dug into the contents of the pantry and came out with the flour and sugar. Duarte had dropped off some early lemons. Jordan might get the humor if he made cupcakes. Or she might take it as a message when he didn’t come back to spend the night.
Shit. He put the ingredients back.
Then took them out again. He could make a regular lemon cake instead.
By the time it was done and cooling, his body had returned to a manageable state and he started dinner service. He sautéed and seasoned and stirred. The fish was done and potatoes were almost finished roasting when Brandi entered the kitchen and he had to leave. He slowly stirred preserved peaches into a dipping sauce for the salmon.
“It all smells so good. Thanks for sticking around. Are you sure you can’t stay?” Brandi picked at her finger with her nail.
He pointed his chin to the counter. “The instructions areall written out. There’s no more actual cooking, only saucing and plating. And when every last bit gets eaten and they clamor for more, you can take all the credit.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a confident smile that hid his own wretched nerves. “I have faith you can do this, young Brandi.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not so sure.”
“I am. You’ll be fine.” He took in her wide, unusual eyes and her teeth nibbling at her lower lip and took pity. “But you can call me if you need anything.”
He went to get his backpack from the servants staircase, but it was glaringly bare. Damn. It was still in the stables.
He left the kitchen and crossed the expanse of grass. When he reached the door of the stables, he took a deep breath before entering.
Jordan sat in one of the recliners, her glasses low on her nose and typing on her laptop. The notepad sat next to her on the arm rest. Her feet were bare, and she ran one up her leg and back down with a lazy casualness. She glanced up and smiled.
Wild hunger built inside him, but he shoved it back down.
“Back so soon?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, ignoring the pain searing deep in his chest. How would she react if she knew how his disloyalty should have sent his mom and stepdad to prison? “I can’t stay. I forgot this thing I had to do.”
“Oh.” She pressed her lips together but her eyes searched his face. “A thing. That you had to do.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He swiped up his backpack and turned toward the door. “So, I’ll see you later.”
Chapter 9
Jordan swirled her mason jar of Belle’s whiskey as she sat on the plush, brown sofa in the Fountenoy Hall library during the drinks hour. Wendy sat next to her, holding the gold throw pillow, listening while Jordan told her of Josh’s earlier disappearing act.
Inside, her gut felt ripped apart. Guess he didn’t want to limit his menu choices, regardless of what he had said. She hadn’t been worth it eight years ago, and she wasn’t worth it now.
