Page 120 of Not Your Average Vixen
She dipped her wooden spoon into the warm caramel and drizzled it over the decadent dessert, putting on the final touch.
She did her best to disregard his provocation, but the man was hard to ignore.
She cleared her throat. “If you can’t tell, I’m engaged in some serious caramel application, mister. You do not want to upset a woman wielding a spoonful of hot, sticky deliciousness.”
He leaned in, all cat-eyes and chiseled cheekbones. “Bridget Dasher, you make baking a real turn on.”
She felt her cheeks heat as he moved in a fraction closer. She’d never look at caramel the same again.
“If you’re not going to play with my balls, then you have to let me kiss you,” he said, his voice a low, sexy whisper.
She threw another glance at Delores and Tanner. They weren’t even twenty feet away!
“Right now? Right here?”
This man made her a tingly, lip biting mess. Again—a dangerous thing to be while working with hot, sticky deliciousness.
Gah! She had to nix the hot, sticky, delicious thoughts, or else she might not be able to stop herself from doing a lot more than just kissing this baking scoundrel.
His gaze flicked to their kitchen companions. “They won’t even notice. Look, Delores is in the zone with those little chickens.”
“Cornish hens,” she corrected with a giggle.
Soren shrugged. “Cole calls them little chickens, so that’s what I’m sticking with. And we both know there’s a good chance Tanner’s hit the gummy bears today. He wouldn’t notice if Santa’s sleigh plowed through this place.”
She stifled another laugh and shook her head. “I’ll have you know that Tanner is stone-cold sober. He promised that he wouldn’t bring any of his specialmedicinaltreats to the mountain house. I think I freaked him out that night I ate half the bag.”
Soren blew out an exaggerated breath. “Yeah, you freaked out a lot of people that night. If it wasn’t for me, you probably would have ended up in the Kringle detox unit.”
She lowered her voice. “I was not that bad, and I highly doubt there’s a Kringle detox unit.”
He eyed her skeptically. “You had a conversation with an egg, Bridget.”
She rested the spoon in the copper pot and leaned against the counter. “I’ve never met an egg I didn’t like.”
He picked up a dish towel and draped it over a carton of eggs sitting on the counter.
“Why did you do that?” she asked as he carefully covered the entire container.
He leaned in, and his breath tickled her ear, sending a charge of heat through her body. “So, we can agree that nobody, not even your little egg friends, are going to catch us.”
She swallowed hard. More of his sexy voice, and she’d be the one ransacking Frosty for another six condoms.
Yep, they’d been busy last night.
“I can see why you’re so successful. You’re hard to turn down,” she replied.
“It’s my specialty,” he rasped.
Holy hot sticky caramel surprise!
That voice would be her demise.
She threw another glance at Tanner and Delores. Soren was right. The cooks were busy with the meal prep and not paying a lick of attention to them. And while she and Soren hadn’t discussed the future, they had adopted an unspoken no PDA rule. In front of the Abbotts, the mountain house staff, and her sister, they’d continue on as Birdie and Scooter, cordial combatants—not Bridget and Soren, the vixen and the sex god. She’d tell Lori everything after the wedding. But until then, the maid of honor best man cliché hookup scenario would stay on the down-low.
“All right, I will agree to a kiss. But first, you have to agree to my terms.”
That cat-like glint was back in his green eyes. “The vixen’s playing hardball. I like it. Shoot.”
