“Do you ever sign things for charity auctions?” she asked.
“Sure, all the time,” I said. “Are you raising money for something?”
“It’s for the girl in class who asked you for a selfie,” she explained. “She volunteers. She asked me to ask you.”
I tried not to feel as disappointed as I did. For a brief moment I thought Grace was asking me for something, asking me to help her out with something. But no. It was for someone else.
“You can tell her I’m in,” I replied.
“If you’ll be at the next baking class, you can let her know herself. I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.” Grace wrung the cleaning cloth between her hands. “Will you? Be at the next class, I mean?”
“I guess it depends.”
“Depends on what?” she asked.
“On you.” I put my elbow on the counter and leaned back casually. “Why did you take off at the cafe?”
Her brow furrowed.
“I didn’t think you’d even notice,” she said.
“Of course I noticed.” I tried to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I thought we were having a fun time. Weren’t we?”
“You were certainly having a fun time with your fangirls,” she said.
“I didn’t think you were the jealous type,” I said lightly.
“I have no right to be jealous about anything,” she said. “And I understand that you need to please your fans. They’re important to your career. I get that. But…” She trailed off.
“But?” I prompted.
“It reminded me that I shouldn’t get involved,” she said. “That this whole thing is a bad idea.”
“What whole thing,exactly?” I asked.
“You know what I mean.” She waved a hand between the two of us. “You. Me. Us. This thing we’re playing at.”
“Who said I’m playing at anything?” I asked.
“If your friend hadn’t gotten hurt, this whole thing would have been a one-night stand,” she said. “You were buttering me up to take me back to your place all evening.”
She had me there.
“When I left, you could have just picked up another woman to bring home,” she said. “Hell, for all I know, you did.”
“I didn’t, for the record,” I interjected.
“But for some reason, you showed up here at my baking class and now there’s athingbetween us,” she said. “And I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“Excited?” I suggested. “Amazed? Flattered that a hot, famous rock star wants you?”
“Wow, I’d almost forgotten how humble you are,” she said, then her jaw snapped shut as she registered what I’d just said.
“I’ll admit it,” I said. “All cards on the table. I want you.”
I stalked forward until she was right in front of me, her back to the counter. She tipped her chin up to meet my gaze. I pressed my palms down flat on the surface, trapping her between my arms.
“Why did you run away?” I asked her.