For the Bite of It (11 page)

Maybe he’d try baking some new cupcakes. Infuse different flavors into the old recipes.

It was close to Halloween and he’d already perfected the pumpkin and spice ones. What else was there? Pecans? It might make a nice segue into Thanksgiving.

But instead of holiday-flavored cupcakes he found himself creating a batch of chocolate ones with a decadent gooey dark chocolate center. All for one hard-headed cop with a chocolate fixation. Filling the paper holders with the batter, his mind wandered back to that glorious night with John.

It was clear John was no newbie to male sex but it was also evident John’s brand of sex with men was of the wham-bam variety. But John had learned fast, been oh-so-willing to make it last like Vince wanted, to repeat the act over and over through the night. His cock twitched just thinking about John’s hands on him. That noise John made in his throat before he came, something between a grunt and growl, had topped any concerto Vince had heard.

As he poured the batter into the cupcake trays, he envisioned John spread-eagled on the bed as Vince licked his way up, then down that fabulous buffed chest. What he could have done with a tub of frosting didn’t even bear thinking about.

The dark brown mixture flowed over the top of the tray and onto the counter.

“
Dio.
” His sigh could have blown papers off his desk all the way to the Tempe Police Station.

Vince scraped the mess off the tray and into the trashcan. With a stern admonition to himself, he poured the rest of the batter and slid the tray into the industrial oven.

He set the timer, poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced into the front of the shop. Of course, when he needed a distraction, every cupcake lover in Tempe had something else to do. He carried his steaming drink over to a café chair and brooded.

Brooding was something Vince did very well. In fact, Angelo had insisted Vince’s snow-bound cabin in the Italian Alps encouraged his black moods and should be avoided.

He squinted out at the bright sunshine. Yeah, a guy could get tired of too much sunshine. At his cabin, winter snows adorned the landscape for over half the year. And the temperature stayed an ass-crack away from freezing most nights. Fur-lined rugs, blazing wood fires, and hot, mulled cider wine or rum punch—he could envision John straddling him, his sweat-coated body gleaming in the glow of the fire.

Maybe it was time to take a break. Let Greg handle the bakery, call in a favor with Angelo to check in every so often, and take off for his beloved cabin. There, the trees surrounding the house made a toasty cocoon, dappling out the sun, twilight shadows twining the lodge all day long. Add a log fire and his music and it was a perfect setting for brooding.

He winced as a dark-blue SUV pulled up to the bakery and bumped the sidewalk. Inside, small heads bobbed and the female driver tried to hold back a small terrier from hurling itself against the windshield, while her long sandy ponytail swung like a branch in a windstorm. When the passenger door of the SUV opened, she gave up the battle and unbuckled herself, nearly falling out the door as she scrambled to keep a boy from shooting out of the car.

Greg had left the bakery door propped open since business was slow. The smell of baking cupcakes usually enticed a stray passer-by or two.

Vince listened in growing amusement as the driver scolded her son for trying to get out of the car before she did.

“Johnny, how many times have I told you to wait for me?”

“But, Mom, I didn’t get out.”

He had a point since all he had done was open the door. And it stumped his mother for all of two seconds.

“You were going to. I don’t want to hear any more about it,” she insisted, resorting to a mother’s age-old fall back. “Get that dog’s leash, please.”

Vince watched the drama unfold. Finally, mom, her three kids who resembled stair-steps in height, and a shaggy white and gold terrier made it into the bakery.

Dogs rarely liked him, smelling the animal predator in him where humans could not. Right on cue, the pet started yowling, straining against its leash, as if being pursued by a horde of cats hell-bent on revenge.

“Oh damn. I’m so sorry. I should have asked if it was all right to bring the dog in.”

She sounded so agitated Vince didn’t have the heart to tell her to take the dog out. But it was obvious nothing was going to get accomplished between the barking pooch and the kids trying to placate him.

“You three,” she glanced around the bakery. “Sit over there.” She pointed an authoritative finger at an empty table.

He expected the kids to ignore her but apparently either her voice or her hand did the trick. All three shuffled off to the chairs. The littlest one couldn’t quite make it up onto the seat.

“May I help?” asked Vince waving a hand at the kids.

“Please, if you don’t mind. I’ll just put Coco in the car.”

Vince strode to the table and bent over the toddler. Big, blue eyes blinked up at him, and a mobile mouth revealed a gap-toothed smile.

“May I help you sit down, Miss?” asked Vince with a wink.

She nodded, her head bobbing like on a wobble-stick. He lifted her up and set her on the cushioned seat.

“Fanks,” she trilled.

That, he presumed was her version of gratitude. “You’re welcome.”

He glanced at the two boys but they had clambered up and seated themselves. Judging from the growling, mom and dog had stayed to watch.

He gave her a thumbs-up and retreated behind the counter. The long-suffering mother ran out, stuffed the dog into the car, and rolled the window down enough so it could stick a snout out. She turned to watch the silver Jeep pull up beside her.

John! Oh, why now?

Was this a personal visit or another interrogation? He watched as John unfolded his solid length from the vehicle and gave the woman a one-armed hug. They knew each other?

The mystery was resolved once John entered the bakery. Neither man had time to worry about greeting each other before the kids launched themselves at John with glee. So this was the younger sister and niece and nephews.

“Sorry about all that. I’m Julie by the way.” Mom had come up to the counter and stuck out her hand. “You know my brother, John, right? The kids wanted him to come and help choose cupcakes for the party.”

Vince shook hands not knowing how to stem the flow of her words. He was utterly distracted and captivated at the sight of John cuddling his niece in the crook of his arm.

“Ahem!” The loud throat clearing forced Vince’s attention back to the woman in front of him.

“You’re quite right. Yes, I met John a while back.”

He met her amused gaze and couldn’t help smiling back. “Sorry, I’m Vince, by the way.”

She shot him a questioning look mixed with the sparkle of mischief. Vince tried to ignore the prickle of warning that tingled on his neck. What was she up to?

“I know who you are. My brother recommended this place. He thinks your cakes are awesome.”

Vince only heard mumbling after the words brother and awesome. John had recommended his bakery? Joy, irrational in proportion to the event, suffused him, making his toes curl.

“I can see you like him, so how well do you…er…
know
him?”

Shocked, Vince was betrayed into muttering. “Well enough.”

“In the biblical sense?”

Holy hell! He understood her knowing gaze. And she didn’t condemn either of them.

“I was a year behind John in college. Of course, I knew what he was doing,” she added in a low voice that wouldn’t carry to her family. “Although he won’t admit it to me, I also know he’s a stubborn idiot.” She leaned on the counter with the air of settling in for comfortable conversation. “You never answered my question.”

Vince liked her wide smile and friendly manner plus the fact she was obviously on his side, but he was not going to discuss his sex life with her. He chuckled. “I’m not answering that. So you want to order cupcakes?”

She gave him an adorable pout. “The strong, silent type I see,” she teased. “Fine, but don’t think I’m giving up. The minute I saw you, I just knew. John has never recommended any place to me before.” She peered across at the cupcakes on display. “Are these all the kinds of cupcakes you have?”

“I have a catalogue you can browse through.” He glanced at the table where a mini-boxing match had begun between the boys with John playing referee. “Would you like something to eat while you wait?” He nodded towards the children and John.

“I suppose I’d better keep them occupied. I wouldn’t usually bring them but I thought they might have fun picking out the cupcakes.”

“Of course. If you want to head off any injuries at the pass, I’ll bring your order out to the table.” He grinned to let her know he was playing along. “So what will it be?”

With a roll of her eyes that was achingly familiar, she grinned back. “Thanks. We’ll have two chocolate cupcakes for the boys and for Ally…anything with sprinkles.”

“Milk?” Vince suggested.

“Only if you have cups with lids, or you’ll be wiping up spills till the evening.”

When he carried the tray back to the table, there was an intense debate about baseball versus football-shaped cupcakes. Vince dragged up another square table to make room for the group. The kids were well-mannered and dug in after another chorus of thank you’s.

At last, Vince had a chance to really look at John. John glanced up and his gaze touched Vince’s, then skittered away.

Vince sighed. He was getting too old for these morning-after games.

“Hi. John.” He placed the still-warm chocolate cupcake in front of his lover of one night.

“Hi.” As if John couldn’t resist, his gaze flew up to Vincent’s face again, and lingered. With an effort, Vince dragged his attention back to Julie.

“You have to try these,” he murmured, placing a cupcake in front of her.

“God, don’t tempt me.”

“Oh but you must. It’s a special flavor made for John.” He avoided looking at him. “Try it,” he urged. “
Le Petit Mort
”.

John choked on his cupcake. Vincent took great pleasure in thumping the idiot’s back.

Julie laughed. “Oh, I’m so glad to have met you, Vince.”

She bit into the cupcake and sighed as dark chocolate oozed from the center.

“Oh, this is certainly to die for.” She cocked her head up at Vince. “Join us?”

John sat still, a silent gloomy presence, munching.

Vince dragged up a chair and sat, slinging an arm oh-so-casually over the back of John’s chair. His fingers grazed the short hair of John’s nape. His lover stiffened and taking pity on him, Vince eased his hand back.

“It’s Johnny’s birthday but since he had a say in picking the birthday cake for his brother, Jacob has demanded reciprocal rights,” Julie explained. “But there’s a disagreement, I’m afraid. You see, Jacob plays baseball and Johnny’s a die-hard football fan like his uncle.”

“The football ones are chocolate,” Vince contributed, in case that was a factor.

“Football’s lame,” Jacob informed his brother and took a huge bite of cake and frosting.

“Is not. Uncle John plays football.”

“No he doesn’t,” Jacob retorted. “That’s just touch football.”

“Guys, guys, enough,” John intervened. “The next one to interrupt the adults gets a time out.” The boys obeyed, giggling.

“I wish they listened to me like that,” Julie wistfully interjected.

Vince was distracted by a strange high-pitched sound that had been escalating. He glanced at Ally. She was twirling a finger in the frosting of her cupcake, frowning.

Julie noticed his look. “Her…er…version of singing.”

“Of course, how could I have not known?” Vince slapped his hand to his forehead. “Umm…what song are you singing?” he asked Ally.

“Mewwy had a wittef famf,” she told him, scooping frosting into her mouth.

“Ahh. That one.” He shot a helpless look at Julie, who hid her grin behind her fingers.

“Mary had a Little Lamb,” she muttered.

Vince hummed a few bars of the nursery rhyme so well known to human children, tapping a rhythm on the table and was rewarded with a vanilla frosting-enhanced smile.

Twenty minutes later, Vince stared at the remnants of cake crumbs and drops of milk. Bemused, he shook his head and bussed the table. Julie and her mini-entourage had left, leaving behind a strong suspicion she was up to something besides ordering cupcakes for her son’s birthday. John had left, as well, having hardly said a word but after devouring two cupcakes.

Vince fingered the paper on which she had jotted down her address accompanied by a completely unexpected invitation to Johnny’s birthday party next week. And, an order for a dozen cupcakes that her detective brother would pick up next week. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see Julie was playing matchmaker.

He rubbed the cheek where Allie had left a sticky thank-you kiss. Oh hell, this got more complicated by the hour. No way was he going to Julie’s house. He could just imagine John’s reaction.

Vince sighed with enough force to rattle the rafters on his mountain cabin.

His heart swelled with strange emotions until he thought it might burst. He had always imagined that one day he would have a family of his own. Children were revered in his culture. Now, with one single action of a year ago, every one of those dreams had vanished like wisps of smoke blowing in the wind. But he would never see his nephew growing up.

Nope, the white picket fence scene wasn’t for him.

He wiped the already clean tables, regret weighing his arms, his body. He stiffened as he sensed John behind him. He turned, hope blossoming despite how grumpy John had been earlier.

“You should have woken me up when you left.”

John cleared his throat. “I was in a hurry. Anyway, I have to run. I just came back to make sure you’re not coming to the party.”

Even though Vince knew it was the right thing to do, he was pissed to hear John didn’t want him there. “Why not?”

“Jesus!” John ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Julie is being silly. I…we…I mean for Christ’s sake, my
parents
will be there.”

Vince couldn’t resist. “Ah, too soon to meet the in-laws,
amante
?”