Mocha Pleasures. Pamela Yaye
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“What’s his story?”
Grace told Bronwyn what she knew about Jackson, which wasn’t much, and noticed the expression on her friend’s face morph from excited to skeptical.
“Single, fine and successful?” she drawled. “There must be something wrong with him.”
“You mean besides that fact that he has a monster-sized ego?”
Bronwyn’s giggles skidded to a stop and her eyes widened with interest as Jackson stopped at their table. “Well, hello.”
“Good morning, ladies. Care to sample one of my Peppermint cheesecake bites?”
“Absolutely,” Bronwyn cooed, helping herself to one of the round minicakes.
Stuffed, so full she couldn’t move, Grace shook her head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Bronwyn popped the dessert into her mouth, declared it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted and stuck out her right hand. “I’m Bronwyn Johansson, and you’re Jackson Drayson. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Everything Grace told you is true.”
Laughing together, Bronwyn and Jackson shook hands.
“It’s true what they say. Beautiful women do travel in packs.”
Bronwyn smiled so brightly she lit up the entire bakery. Grace tried not to gag. Surely, her friend wasn’t impressed with his pickup lines. But, sadly, she was. Silent and wide-eyed, she couldn’t believe her friend was flirting shamelessly with the bad-boy baker. Amused, Grace sank back in her chair and enjoyed the “Bronwyn and Jackson” show.
“You’re a great baker,” Bronwyn announced, her tone full of awe., “Your wife is one very lucky woman.”
“I’m not married.” His gaze slid across the table and landed on Grace. “But that could change any day now.”
Heat singed the tips of her ears and flowed through her body. Jackson made her hyperventilate, caused her thoughts to scatter in a million directions, and there was nothing Grace could do to stop it.
“I haven’t found Mrs. Right yet, but things are definitely starting to look up.”
“Describe your ideal woman.”
Grace kicked Bronwyn under the table, but her friend continued chatting a mile a minute.
“Don’t be shy,” she said, reaching out and patting his forearm good-naturedly, as if they were lifelong friends. “I love playing matchmaker, so let me help you find your soul mate.”
Jackson rested the wooden tray on the table. “That’s easy. I know exactly what I want.”
“Do tell. Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Bronwyn, don’t encourage him,” Grace implored, speaking through dry, pursed lips.
“I want to hear this. Go ahead, Jackson. I’m listening.”
His stare was bold and raked over her body with deliberate intent. “She’s five-ten, give or take a few inches, with mocha-brown skin, hourglass curves and legs like a Vegas showgirl.”
Oh, my goodness, he’s talking about me! Grace resisted the urge to cheer. Pride surged through her veins as she sat up taller in her chair. Fire and desire gleamed in his eyes, radiating from his chiseled six-foot body. Grace didn’t speak, kept the leave-me-the-hell-alone expression on her face, but when Jackson flashed his trademark grin her heart smiled. It must have appeared on her face because he looked pleased with himself, as if he’d developed an antidote for an incurable disease. He sat down in the empty chair beside her, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to kiss him.
“I know just the girl,” Bronwyn said, vigorously nodding her head. “Want her number? It’s 206-621—” Pop music played from inside her gold Michael Kors purse and she broke off speaking. Singing along with Taylor Swift, she retrieved her BlackBerry and checked the screen. “It’s my Pooh Bear! Jackson, keep Grace company until I get back. I won’t be long.”
“My pleasure,” he said, pouring on the charm. “Take your time.”
Her breakfast forgotten, Bronwyn surged to her feet and strode off.
“You look amazing. Do you model for Gucci, or are you just a huge fan of their clothes?”
“Surely, there’s someone else in here you can hit on,” she said with a nod toward the cash register. “How about that cute young barista with the curly hair? She’s always staring at you, and I’m sure she’d be flattered by your pickup lines.”
“I don’t spit lines. Just the truth.”
Seeing her cell phone light up, she glanced down at the screen and read her latest text message. Of course. It was from her dad. He wanted to know how things were going, but Grace decided not to respond. Not with the enemy sitting so close.
“When are you going to let me take you out? You know you want to.”
“I grew up here,” she said, “so there’s nowhere you can take me that I haven’t been to a million times before.”
“Try me. When we go out on Saturday night, I’ll knock you off your feet. Literally.”
“Are you always this cocky?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I have reason to be. I’m a pretty cool dude!”
His facial expression tickled her funny bone. Grace didn’t want to laugh, tried to swallow it, but it burst out of her mouth. Damn him! Why did he have to be funny and ridiculously hot?
“I love your laugh. It’s as captivating as your smile.”
“You wouldn’t be flirting with me if you knew who I was.”
“Ya think?” he said, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze full of interest. “Try me.”
“I’m your worst enemy.”
“Is that so, Ms. Nicholas? I prefer to think of us as colleagues, not rivals.”
* * *
Grace choked on her tongue. Oh, hell no!
The fact that Jackson already knew who she was and had been flirting with her anyway made her mad, but more than anything she was disappointed. All this time, she’d thought she was pulling one over on him, but he’d been pulling one over on her! Swallowing hard, Grace reclaimed her voice and asked the question racing through her mind. “You know who I am? But I never told you my last name. How did you figure it out?”
“Google. Twitter. Facebook. There are no secrets in this day and age. A few clicks of my mouse and I knew everything I wanted to know about you...”
Jackson spoke in a tone so seductive her nipples hardened under her fitted teal dress, and her thighs quivered. It took everything in her not to crush her lips to his mouth and steal a kiss. The man was long, lean and ripped, and Grace imagined all of the delicious things they could do together. Dirty dancing. Skinny-dipping. Tantric sex. Stunned by her lascivious thoughts, she tore her gaze away from his face and took a moment to gather herself.
“I like the quote you posted on your Facebook page this morning and couldn’t help wondering if it was about me. ‘Don’t be afraid of change. You may lose something good, but you may gain something infinitely better.’”
Everything in the bakery ceased to exist, faded to the background. Mesmerized, Grace listened to Jackson with growing interest, realized she’d been too quick to judge him. He was wise and insightful, and to her surprise she agreed with everything he said.
“There is no reason for us to be enemies. In fact, we could probably help each other. There is plenty of room for more than one bakery in town, and to prove it I’d be more than happy to give you a behind-the-scenes look at how things work at Lillian’s.”