Have Your Cake (4 page)

“But where does that put you?” He leaned on the countertop, closing the distance between them to command her attention. She seemed to want to look away. The sight of her heartbroken browns was far too compelling to walk away from.
Damsel in distress.

“I don’t know. Matthew’s I guess. I used to babysit that kid. I’m sure he’d take me in for a few days. I could work off the stay by tinkering in the garage a bit. I haven’t worked on a car since changing the oil. The dirt could help me get my creative thoughts going.”

He chuckled. “You work on cars and bake cakes. Is there anything you can’t do?”

She turned her sight skyward. The cheek on the corresponding side of her face plumped up in a half-smirk before she shook her head and restored her visage to normal. “Um, haven’t found anything yet.”

Asher took a breath. Every part of him was comfortable with his next proposal. “Tell you what.” He flipped his body to lean his back against the island, crossing his arms over his chest. Cyana’s stare slid down his long form. A smile etched his mouth. The subtle pause of her gaze on his crotch caused the pink of her tongue to moisten the gloss of her lips. Her palms curled slightly on the countertop. She abruptly cast her attention to the floor. A rush of gentle breath left her. Oh yeah. His body hummed. He’d gladly offer himself up for a pleasurable touch fest with her. Satisfied with the obvious mutual attraction he continued, “Why don’t you stay here and wait for them?”

Her gaze jumped to his with surprise. “What? Oh no, Asher. I couldn’t. You’ve already agreed to cover the tow. I can’t put you out for three days.”

“You have to.” He shrugged during his pause. “Now, I may not know you all that well. But, I can’t rest knowing a young lady like you came all the way from Chicago alone, got stranded and left the Milway with no place to go. What I gathered from your end of the conversation is Matthew doesn’t sound like the type of guy to leave a beautiful woman with.”

A smile played in her stare. “Now, how do I know I can trust you? At least I know Matthew...a little.”

Asher raised his palms to the ceiling. “I’m trusted with the safe keeping of this place. I like to leave things better than I found them, but I’d say you have no room for improvement.” He paused, noticing her gaze dart to the floor. She’d taken his innuendo exactly the way he intended it. He continued before she put too much thought into the meaning of his statement, “If anything happens to you while you’re here, then it’s on me. How much trouble could you be?”

Her lids narrowed. “More than you think, mister.”

He chuckled. “Think about it. If the room upstairs can’t convince you by the time the tow truck arrives, then I’ll let you go.”

“You said the upstairs wasn’t finished.”             

“Three of the seven rooms are. I’m sure I can spare one.” He enjoyed watching her nibble her lower lip while she thought it over.

“Okay. Let me see the room.”                                                       

C
yana woke to the smell of Asher. He’d graciously given up his bed and changed the sheets for her. Still, the warm scent of male musk lingered, imprinted into the mattress. The high thread count in the Egyptian cotton sheets slid against her skin, reminding her of the neglect she’d suffered over the years. The influence of his fragrance on her dreams didn’t help soothe the heat bubbling inside. Her nipples were firm under her tank. She adjusted the thong sticking to the dew of her sweet spot. With a stretch, she sighed against the firm luxury pillows.

Asher.
She smiled at the wicked dream which woke her in ecstasy. It’d been a long time since she had that sort of dream. Never had the guy in them been someone she met before. This dream hunk was clearly Asher. All southern twang and rough hands; whispering in her ear, rubbing her breasts and mound until she melted into a puddle of orgasmic bliss. Folding her lower lip into her teeth, she wouldn’t waste the high in her imagination. She trailed a touch around her breasts and down her belly before gliding the stroke into the elastic of the pajama bottoms.

Cyana didn’t bother with the shower after her morning satisfaction session. Forty minutes of me-time was on order considering the long hours spent in the car yesterday. She washed her hands and dressed.
The dining area downstairs had highly polished hardwood floors, making her feel like dancing. She grabbed the CD player, yoga matt and headed down the grand staircase, admiring the long chandeliers shimmering on either side like waterfalls. Setting up, she pressed play and started to move.

The dance was a great warm-up. Then came fifty pushups, crunches, squats and a variety of leg lifts used to fight the genetic hip spread she was destined for. Afterwards, she’d be ready to take on the world.

A
sher was out in the workshop at the far back of the property before the sun started to rise. He could have said he was making up for work lost on the wedding canopy but he was ahead of schedule on it. His thumb glided over the curve of the notch he carved and sanded down in the column. It caressed the hardened pad of his thumb, gently molding his flesh to its smoothness. He sighed against the touch of the wood, closed his eyes as the vision of chocolate dominated his mind.

Soft breath over his skin, lush lips pressed against his and silken temptations under his palm were a luxury he hadn’t indulged in a long time. The rosy and milky skin he’d grown accustomed to faded into a rich brown. His cock pulsed. The heat crept up his neck. His lips parted and dry tongue licked for the salt of her flavor. His palm tingled for the weight of her breasts, the touch of her hips; the squeeze of her ass.
Cyana. Damn.
He shoved a hand through his overgrown mane, opening his gaze to reality.

The thoughts of her sleeping down the hall plagued him through the night.
What the hell kind of spell did she put on me?
Whatever fever she’d given him grasped so deep in his chest he’d peeked in on her to make sure she was still there. The moonlight showing over her warmed his gut while her breathing had carried on a gentle snore to the doorway. Admittedly, his behavior was unsettling. He set the wood carving tools down and spread both hands flat on the workbench top. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head.

“It’s been a long time. That’s all,” he said.

The excuse was hollow. He’d passed over many gorgeous morsels on his real estate rise, but never had a desire to check on their wellbeing. His women had always been good for a romp in the sack, but money hungry and manipulative. Easy to throw away.

Not her. Cyana’s laugh plagued his senses. Her presence warmed his chest and peaked curiosity.
Who is she? How can I get more time to know her?

“I have to ask her out.”

T
he noise from a large truck close to the house greeted Cyana when she came down stairs from her shower. It was good to feel human again. Her body was still running hot from the workout.

Curious, she ambled towards the kitchen and opened the side door Asher pointed out the night before. She jumped back in surprise. A small flat bed truck was inches from the doorway. Scratching the exit off the list, she went further into the house towards the glass back doors leading to the yard. The long handle clicked and the door swung open with ease. The back porch was deep with a ceiling covered with decorative fans placed measured distances apart. The wooden beams of the floor were dark stained; naked of furniture. She smiled at the possibilities such a bare space presented the proper decorator before taking in more of the Milway’s features. She spotted Asher pacing in the distance with his phone pressed to his ear and focus on the lawn. Not wanting to rudely interrupt his conversation, she took a seat on the highest step which provided some shade from the sun.

He marched a determined line, reminding her of a lion on the prowl. His flannel shirt was buttoned all the way and tucked into his jeans. The denim curled around his lower half in a loose fit. She honed her vision onto the curve of his ass. He turned on his heels. She noted a belt buckle accenting his waist. Surprised, her gaze shot to his feet and confirmed he wore brown boots.

“A damn cowboy,” she muttered to herself. The sight warmed her thighs and tweaked her nipples. “He’s not your type.” Hands down, not what she found attractive. She took a long breath. “You ought to be ashamed, Cyana.” She gently scolded. “Get a hold of yourself.”

She raised her sight to the sky to change the scenery. The low ceiling was a mix of stretched grey clouds appearing like flat strips of construction paper with the upper ceiling bursting with puffy bright white clouds against loads of blue. It was going to be a beautifully humid day. Good thing she’d corn-rowed her hair.

Asher sat down, making her jump. The heat of a hard body brushed against her.

“Mornin’,” he said, “didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Good morning.” She spoke through her recovery, intent to glance at him but his rugged features captured her attention. He was staring off to the grass with his jaw set and twitching. His cheeks chiseled in a masculine curve. She pondered his lips a moment, full on the bottom and slightly on the top, but not as full as her own.
What would it be like to kiss him?
She blinked.
No, Cyana. No.

“Glad the mornin’s good for you, Love.” He finally spoke.

She smiled. “Shouldn’t you be calling me darlin’ or something like that?”             

He met her stare with confusion playing in his sights before he laughed, surveying his clothes. The question must have caught him off guard. “You like my get up, huh?”

“You a cowboy?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. Sorry to ruin it for you, Love. I’m just a good ol’ country boy. I can pretend if you want me to.” His lips turned in a delicious half-smile. He winked. His glare sparkled something devious.

Cyana felt like she could melt into a puddle of goo on the spot. She’d better leave that one alone if she wanted to get over this thing she was feeling for him.
Yeah, that’s it. I’ll call it, a “thing”, because crushin’ on white boys is sure to be trouble.
She glanced away, waiting for him to shift his attention back to the grass.

“What’s got you so hot this morning?”

“Hot?” he asked.

She peered at him. His ears were still red. “Yeah, someone pushed the wrong button? It sounded like you were giving them the third degree.”

“Oh, you mean what pissed me off?”

She laughed. “I see we have to work on your cowboy and sister-girl language skills.”

He threw his head back, laughing heartily. The irritation left his gaze completely once he shifted back to her. “Is that what you speak? Sister-girl?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” She feigned surprise by raising a hand to her chest.

“So the proper little lady I met yesterday?”

“Was my representative.” She held out her hand for a shake. “Hi, I’m the real Cyana.”

He chuckled taking her grip. “Howdy ma’am, I’m the real Asher.” He turned her hand over to kiss the back of it. “Mighty fine making your acquaintance.”

She laughed at their playful exchange. “Seriously Asher, what’s going on?”

“The tile came in for the kitchen this morning.”

“Oh, great.” She perked up with excitement.

She still hadn’t gotten to see the area the Huffing Kitchen would be working in.

“Yeah, well, when the manufacturer called to cancel yesterday, I didn’t flinch too much on the dent in the schedule. The plan was to have the floor laid today to cure, then grout and seal tomorrow before the big appliances arrive. I had the whole damned project streamlined.” He stared back at the lawn. She noticed the spark of his earlier frustration etch across his face. He took a moment to stretch his long body out so his legs went down the steps and his torso to the landing. He used his elbows to prop himself up.

Cyana caught a glimpse of the sun beating off his buckle. Instinctively, her sight went lower to the fat wad below it.
Nice.
A jolt of heat pulsed through the center of her gut. She suppressed the need to fidget. Determined to ignore her body’s yearnings, she leaned back to face him. “What happened?”

“The damn vendor messed up my order. Excuse my language.”

“Asher, really, I just came from Chicago. You don’t have to worry about your language.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just...hot right now.”

She smiled. “You learn fast.”

He nodded. “I have a good teacher.”

She chuckled. “Well, let’s see it.”

“See what?”

“The mess up,” she said. “I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind showing me.”

She stood. He rose next to her. She must have been rattled pretty hard last night. It seemed like she’d forgotten how tall he was. He was so close heat poured from his body, making her want to pant in the humid air. Everything about him seemed bigger than she remembered.

“The driver’s unloading it now.” Asher stretched his forearm out to the stone pathway on the right leading from the porch to the side of the house. “Ladies first.”

T
he driver was hauling ass before Asher rounded the house with Cyana. He’d spit enough fire about the damned shipment to make the man hurry off the front line.

“He didn’t hang around,” Cyana said.

Great, she noticed.
Asher shoved his thumbs in his belt loops, spitting on the ground next to his boot. Asshole guilt was setting in. He would have to call the driver and apologize for his behavior. The man didn’t fill the order, but he damn well didn’t check the delivery receipt either. Cyana made it to the pallet outside the building before he did. He stared towards the short drive next to the house, listening to the truck engine get further away. She whistled.

“Hey cowboy.” He pivoted to see her waving. “Earth to Asher. Are you coming over here?”

“Aw hell, I’d come to you any damn day of the week, Love,” he said. He sauntered closer to see a smiling embarrassment flashing in those lovely browns. The bashfulness made him want to play more.

“Behave Asher.”

“Oh no, I’m Asher. Have lives down the road.” He propped himself against the tile. “There’s no way I could ever be like Have.” He paused. “I just love the look on your face right now.”

“Asher, please.” Her attention faltered for a moment while she glanced to the ground and fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt. Her downward turned chin stayed that way before a light laughter wove through her shyness. Her chestnut brown stare met his. “Be serious for a minute.”

“Do I have to?”

She shot him a stern glance. “Straighten up, white boy.”

“Damn. I’ve gone from cowboy to white boy.” He chuckled at her ribbing.

“Yeah. See, now you’re in trouble.” She pointed a finger at him. “I need you to focus and quit playin’.”

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened, giving a salute.

She rolled her eyes to the heavens, muttering a prayer for strength. He laughed.

“Okay, what’s the problem? You have a whole pallet of light grey slate.” She shrugged at the invoice.

“To the untrained eye.” He spoke, getting closer to her ear. “Look lower.”

The heat of her body tingled through his chest. Her nostrils flared before she pressed her lips firmly together. With a slow inhale, she cast her gaze down further. “Dark slate.”

“Bingo.”

She took a step away from him, wandering around the pallet. “It’s just a few boxes. Let me guess, you ordered a little extra to cover the floors and make sure you could finish the job without hiccups.”

“Yep, but not enough to make up for a botch like this in time for the wedding. The cut takes three weeks to get from the manufacturer.”

“Do you have the floor plans close by?” she asked.

“They’re inside the building if you want to take a look.” He jerked a thumb towards the old horse stalls.

She nodded. “Let’s.”

He opened the oversized door, allowing her in first.