Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) (6 page)

Josh folded his arms.

“There was security?” she said.

He almost believed the total innocence. “Yeah. Big, burly guys. Gray suits. Guns.” Probably not guns, but Kimmie had surprised him for the last time.

“Huh.”

Josh waited.

Kimmie stuck her hands in the pockets of her trench coat and swung her shoulders. “Did you want anything else? I have a long drive and a lot of work to do. And you need to explain me to your parents.” She looked down again. “And
this
, of course,” she added while she rattled the trench coat with her hands in her pockets. “If that’s anything like me lying to
my
mother, you’re gonna need twelve times that many cupcakes to get her sugar high high enough for her to believe you.”

Josh backed her up against the opposite wall. “What’s under the trench coat, Kimmie?”

Her usual jagged flush colored her cheeks. “I had a dream once that I had to go to the bathroom, but when I sat on the toilet, it turned into a seat on a tilt-a-whirl, and suddenly there I was, tilt-a-whirling through the carnival with my pants around my ankles, holding on to the tilt-a-toilet for dear life.”

“The trench coat, Kimmie,” Josh said again.

Those big pools of blue blinked rapidly. “This trench coat?” she said.

There was no reason for his dick to stir, but there it was, making itself known in his pants. “Your mother’s idea?” Despite mention of her mother, he was still rising, wondering if she was actually naked under there.

Her skin was porcelain smooth, and he’d dated enough society women to recognize that she wasn’t wearing makeup tonight. She wasn’t petite, but there was something to be said for curves on a woman.

“I wasn’t going to show you,” Kimmie said, “but it
is
your birthday.”

He needed to get his ass back in his condo.

Now.

Kimmie untucked her hands from the pockets, looked down, and slowly—
so
slowly—untied the tan belt. “I have to warn you, this is sort of like that dream I had about llamaroos mating with goatpeckers. You can’t unsee it.”

Yep. He was turning around. Walking away. As soon as he ripped his gaze from the gap widening in her coat. “Did you just say
goatpeckers
?”

She fiddled with the edges of the trench coat, barely holding the two sides together. “It’s a goat, except it’s also a woodpecker. And this—” she let the trench coat slide off her shoulders “—is your surprise.”

Get Suckered
was written in bright purple over the neon green tank top that stretched across her breasts. Josh’s lips parted, and he had to blink against the bright, clashing colors.

His groin was protesting that there was still a layer of cotton between his eyeballs and her skin.

“I special ordered you a matching T-shirt, since I know you hang out at Suckers when you’re in Bliss. They’re super comfy for sleeping. Yours will be in this weekend.”

Forget the talk about being a businessman instead of a fire-spitting ninja unicorn. He needed to have a talk with himself about not getting turned on by Kimmie Elias, and not getting
suckered
into finding her hilarious.

Which she wasn’t, since she was making a fool of him.

“This relationship is done,” Josh said.

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her pink jean shorts. “Okay, but you won’t get your recipes.”

His jaw clenched hard enough to crack a diamond between his molars. He forced himself to smile—undoubtedly far from his best smile—and was rewarded with Kimmie’s round eyes going rounder.

He forced his voice to drip into bedroom territory, which was much easier than it should’ve been. “More than one way to seduce a cupcake baker.”

Jagged splotches of red rose in her cheeks again. But she thrust her chin out like he’d seen her mother do every time he’d spoken to her.

“Let’s make this easy,” Josh said. “You give me five cupcake recipes. I give you ten thousand dollars.”

She lifted a hand to her mouth, then dropped it, her lips wavering between a smile, a frown, and a pursed panic. “Each?” she said.

Josh checked a laugh. “Total.” His parents had been extremely generous with his trust fund during the good years, and he could afford it. Every dime they’d given him would go to rescuing their business one way or another. But he wasn’t about to waste more of it than he had to in securing new recipes.

Not yet, anyway.

Kimmie sniffed, and again, Josh saw her mother. “Enjoy your cupcakes,” she said.

“Ten grand will go pretty far to get your dirty cupcake business off the ground.”

She squeaked out a gasp and something that sounded like
fluffernutter
.

“Suppose your mother would salt your melons if she heard,” Josh added. He’d made a connection or two in Bliss, and when he’d heard what Kimmie was up to—pairing with the local ice cream lady who sold risqué-flavored ice cream to cater dirty-named treats for bridal showers—he hadn’t believed it.

But he’d gotten his hands on a sample or two, and there was no denying it.

Kimmie Elias was the only person in Bliss who could’ve baked a cupcake that light and fluffy, with a magic mix of sugar and flavor and presentation.

Her mother would have a shit fit of epic proportions if she knew Kimmie were involving her cupcakes in such a racy endeavor.

And Josh needed to forever separate the thoughts
Kimmie
and
racy
from his brain.

Now.

Kimmie crossed her arms over her melons, and this time, there was something different lurking in the thrust of her chin and the rigidity of her posture. Plus that blue flame igniting in her eyes.

As though Kimmie Elias had layers the world didn’t know about. Spunky layers. Stubborn layers. Intriguing layers.

He couldn’t decide if she was a mini-Marilyn with a warped personality, if she was odd for show, or if she really did permanently reside in this special little Kimmie-verse she’d created.

“Go ahead.” Kimmie stepped into his personal space. “Tell her. Tell my mother I take special orders for sexy cupcakes on the side.” She poked him in the chest. “
You
can’t stop me.
She
can’t stop me. But if she fires me from Heaven’s Bakery,
your
profits there will sink to
nothing
. Because I
am
the cake. I
am
the buttercream. I
am
the magic. And you know it, or you wouldn’t want my recipes. Take your ten grand and shove it—shove it—shove it where your piping bag won’t reach!”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly under the horrifically bright T-shirt. Being fascinated by a nice pair of breasts wasn’t unusual, but even noticing that Kimmie Elias
had
breasts was odd.

Everything about the last ten minutes was odd. Uncomfortable. Wrong.

“Why lemon chiffon?” he said suddenly.

He waited for her to rattle off another crazy dream. Or tell him her mother would loop her fruits if she had given him chocolate birthday cupcakes instead.

But she stared at him with a straightforward, clear,
Kimmie
-ish look. Her light brows scrunched, and she sucked half her lower lip into her mouth. Her skin was more than smooth—it looked remarkably soft. Clean. Firm. Glowing. Except for the smear of frosting, which gave her a refreshing innocence. Should’ve been impossible when paired with the trench coat, but Kimmie pulled it off.

“Lemon chiffon fit you.” She sidestepped him. “Anyway, this has been fun. Happy birthday, Josh. Many happy returns.”

She turned and walked down the carpeted hallway to the elevator. And it wasn’t until the doors swished shut behind her that he realized she hadn’t actually asked him for anything.

She’d simply brought him birthday cupcakes.

Had he started the
sweetheart
ploy again?

Or had she?

He couldn’t remember.

But he’d offered her ten grand for her cupcake recipes before she’d said a word about Heaven’s Bakery.

He knew she was here on a mission from her mother. The two of them were in this together.

But she hadn’t once mentioned it. Instead, she’d wished him happy birthday, and she’d left.

As if she truly had come because she liked him and because she simply wanted to give him birthday cupcakes.

He wasn’t fond of being the ass in the relationship. That was something he’d have to work on.

But first, he had to go lie to his parents about the relationship actually existing.

Whatever it took to save their business.

I
t was almost
ten p.m. before the familiar, hundred-foot-high, glowing wedding cake statue came into view on the dark horizon, welcoming Kimmie back to the comfortable land of her reality. To where cupcakes and fondant rollers and buttercream awaited her. Cake didn’t say one thing and mean another.

Things with Josh probably could’ve gone better, but they hadn’t gone as poorly as she’d feared they would. He’d actually stood outside his condo with her,
alone
, and talked to her for a whole conversation. He hadn’t kissed her again without an audience, but he hadn’t laughed at her dreams, and she’d thought, for three terrifying seconds, that he was actually
interested
in what was under her trench coat.

Maybe General Mom was right.

Maybe she
could
do this.

He hadn’t corrected the rumors that they were dating. Even to his
parents
.

Did he really want her cupcake recipes that badly? And
why
?

Or were the cupcakes a ruse, and he really liked
her
?

Her stomach dipped.

That would be weird. And Kimmie knew weird.

Thank the cupcake gods, she was almost home. She and her piping bags understood each other. Cake never messed with her head. And melted chocolate was forthcoming about the temperatures it would withstand, and what it would and wouldn’t do for a girl.

No crazy, pulse-limit-testing, tension-filled, butterflies-in-her-stomach-inducing kisses and false promise-filled gazes awaited her here.

Here, she could be comfortable and happy. As long as she ignored the shadow of the hill beyond the statue where her mother’s neighborhood was.

She winced. She’d channeled her mother at Josh’s condo.

Not just a little, either.

I
am
Bliss
, she’d heard her mother say countless times.
I am Bliss. I am the Knot Festival. I am the Bridal Retailers Association. Without me, this town would be
nothing.

And there Kimmie had been, staring down arrogant, insulting, handsome-as-sin Josh in his posh hallway, and it had just popped out.
I
am
the cake
.

That was the part that had gone off-plan. Nat and Pepper had been right—being
herself
had been crazy effective at getting Josh’s attention.

Men love it when the only thing you want is to make them happy
, Nat had said.
You make people happy just by being you.

The trench coat had been a stretch, but Pepper was right too—she had to do something to be sexy. And she was completely comfortable in a trench coat when she had clothes on underneath it.

But channeling her mother—definitely
not
part of the plan.

If Josh told Mom about her secret cupcakes—well. She had several friends who loved animals. At least Kimmie could rest in peace knowing one of them would step in and take care of her cats when General Mom deviled Kimmie’s eggs for the last time.

But for tonight, she’d claim a small battle victory and hope for the war to be over soon.

In the meantime, she would always have cake.

F
ridays at Heaven’s Bakery
were like a cupcake with too much pudding filling. Everything individually was great, and everything put together was fantastic for business, except it tended to be gooey and hairy—well, not
hairy
, because hair and cupcakes didn’t mesh, but definitely messy. Friday’s wedding cakes had to be delivered. Saturday’s wedding cakes had to be finished. And Sunday’s wedding cakes had to be prepped. There was no room for error, no time to breathe, no time for surprises.

Which meant returning to Heaven’s Bakery after dropping off the second of three wedding cakes late Friday afternoon, only to find the Joshanova at the back door—dressed in a killer three-piece suit, a dozen roses in hand and an amorous glint in his eye—was an absolute disaster.

“Afternoon, sugar,” he said.

Rosita and Paige, who were loading another wedding cake into Rosita’s ancient Dodge minivan, both peeked around at him. A handsome man in a suit wasn’t an unusual sight in Bliss—they had thousands of weddings a year, for cake’s sake—but Rosita’s dark eyes were as wide as Kimmie expected her own were, and Paige had the
something juicy’s about to happen
gleam in her budding smile.

Kimmie was about to invent Cake Readiness Condition Five.

“Schmoopsie-poo,” Kimmie said. “What a surprise.”

Be irresistible
, Pepper had said earlier this week.
Like your mother if the fate of Bliss depended on her getting laid
.

Be
you
,
Nat had insisted.
Make him earn your attention
.
And, Pepper, don’t
ever
say that again
.

Josh stepped toward her.

Kimmie dodged left. Then right. Then left again.

Heaven’s Bakery help her, if he kissed her again, she wouldn’t be able to make the last cake delivery. They’d already had cakemageddon. What was beyond that?

Josh stopped her dodging by putting a hand to her hip and blocking her against the building. “Ah, dancing. You’ve read my mind, sweetheart.”

There was that lemon scent again. Lemon and silk and something purely, fundamentally primitive. Kimmie was warm from the pleasant May afternoon and from delivering wedding cakes, but Josh’s hand was hot.
Hot
hot. Zinging-through-Kimmie’s-panties hot. She gulped back a squeak.

You are an amazing, sexy woman
, Pepper had said the other night.
It’s in there. And it’s uniquely
you
. Find it, and embrace it
.

Sexy. Amazing. Embracing. Right. “I had a dream that I was a shape-shifting dinosaur with wings made out of French fries.”

“I like wings.” His leg touched hers, his hand lingering on her hip. The zinging in her panties went through her skin, through her bones, through her muscles, to her secret, hidden places. He brushed the rosebuds against her cheek. “But not as much as I like you.”

She gulped. “I like happy brides, and I have one last cake to deliver, and—”

“It turns me on to watch you work.”

Right
.

She shoved his chest. Her hand tingled where she touched the hard curve of solid pecs, but the irritated sting in her heart was bigger. “I have work to do.”

“I’ll help.”

Images of the four-tiered white fondant cake—painstakingly speckled with edible gold pearls and wrapped with purple ribbon—toppling to the floor of the Harmony Lake Reception Hall made Kimmie’s pulse hit sugar-high levels.

Her mother would boil her eggs. “No.”

“I’m very strong.” His smile should’ve come with a brow wiggle, but it overflowed with too much male ego to need any help at being suggestive. “And coordinated.”

And determined. And clean-shaven. And completely, unabashedly, unflinchingly focused on Kimmie.

He’d brought roses. Dressed in a suit. And he’d been waiting.

For her.

As if he were about to ask her to homecoming or the prom, or to be his guest at a wedding, or to—
gulp
—go on a date.

She felt as competent as the first time she’d squeezed a frosting bag. She dated. On occasion. Her mother had coerced Luke Hart, one of the single sons on The Aisle, into taking her to the movies in February. Max Gregory had grabbed Chinese food with her after a Knot Fest meeting last month. Kimmie had also been out with three different minor league baseball players since the first of the year. Her mother had some sway with the owner of the Bliss Bachelors, and those poor boys were too young to have developed the skills to say no to the Queen General.

But none of them looked at her as if she were a cupcake in danger of losing her wrapper. Not the way the Snack Cake Romeo was looking at her.

“Mr. Kincaid, how lovely to see you again.”

Kimmie jumped at General Mom’s flat
you are the enemy and you must die
tone.

Josh didn’t budge a single molecule. “Marilyn,” he said easily, never taking his gaze off Kimmie. “I’d return the sentiment, but it’s honestly more lovely to see your beautiful daughter.”

“I strongly suggest you leave my daughter alone,” General Mom said.

Kimmie sucked in a surprised breath. Did she mean—was Kimmie free to—was Goal: Seduce The Josh Juan on hold?

“Did I say beautiful? I meant breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. Unforgettable.” He took Kimmie’s hand and pressed it to his lips.

Kimmie felt the kiss other places.

All
the other places.

“Kimberly, there’s a bride awaiting her wedding cake.”

“We were on our way in to get it,” Josh said.

The two of them faced off in one of their usual glare wars, and the truth of the situation hit Kimmie.

General Mom was provoking Josh.

If she condoned their fake relationship, Kimmie’s chances of tricking the bakery out of Josh would die.

But what General Mom didn’t understand was that Kimmie had already used her best weapon.

And failed.

Josh hadn’t flinched at the idea of being seen with her. He wasn’t embarrassed by her, not even when she’d insulted his parents’ business. He’d embraced the idea of being seen in public with her. A picture of him kissing her at that Chicago alehouse had popped up on the Internet on Wednesday, and this morning, she’d caught rumors that his parents were head over heels in love with her and his mother was hearing wedding bells.

This wasn’t a battle Kimmie could win General Mom’s way. No doubt, General Mom’s plan involved Kimmie going all the way—from like to sex to love.

Kimmie was hoping she could
like
the bakery out of him. Instead of having to go the rest of the way.

Or that her friends were right, and that being herself would be enough for her to get what she wanted out of their
relationship
.

But now, she had to play her part, or her mother would flambé her bananas.

“Stop,” she said over their continued bickering. She wrapped an awkward arm around Josh’s trim waist, ignoring the heat that prickled her skin where she touched his suit jacket. “Mom, he’s coming with me. And—” she shot a meaningful glance at Rosita and Paige, who were watching the show and who would undoubtedly talk later about
why
Josh was here “—I think you know that’s for the best.”

General Mom tilted her head and gave an impressive sniff. But Kimmie had caught the quick
good girl
message in the flutter of her brows. “If anything happens to that cake…”

“It’s in the best hands,” Kimmie said quickly.

She’d have to step up her Pilates and yoga routines to five times a week to make up for all the coconut treats she was indulging in to cope with
dating
Josh. Otherwise, at the rate this was going, he’d end up fake-engaged to Kimmie the Blimpie. Klimpie. Yep. That would be her.

And she didn’t want to talk about what the extra coconut was doing to her dreams.

General Mom swept the chin of command between them once again. “If anything happens to that cake,” she said, her voice lowering to dangerous, flames-of-hell, cakes-of-wrath levels, “you will
both
be fired.”

Josh’s eyes gleamed with a cold blue satisfaction, and Kimmie felt a tremor of fear.

He wouldn’t.

Would he?

General Mom couldn’t fire him. His half-stake in Heaven’s Bakery was iron-clad.

But she could fire Kimmie.

“Let’s get the cake,” she whispered.

And when Rosita made the sign of the cross, Kimmie—who wasn’t even Catholic—made a mental one of her own.

T
wenty minutes later
, Josh was strapped into the passenger seat in Kimmie’s Subaru Outback while she slowly pulled it out of the Heaven’s Bakery parking lot. “Have you been inside the Harmony Lake Reception Hall?” she asked.

“Haven’t had the pleasure, love.” He studied her bare features in the late afternoon light. There was a smudge of frosting on her ear and a faint scar on her temple. And when he said
love
or
sugar
or
sweetheart
, she flinched.

Apparently she didn’t appreciate having the battle brought to her. Or knowing that she had to spend time with him.

Alone.

Good.

Aiden had texted that Ralph, the longtime head of product development in the lab, had had a shit fit about Aiden’s attempts to duplicate Kimmie’s cupcakes, and Josh hadn’t yet caught his dad in the right mood to suggest a new snack cake line without hinting that Josh knew about Sweet Dreams’s financial situation.

If Kimmie was nervous, maybe they wouldn’t have to go all the way through with the date. She’d give up the cupcake recipes, and they could each forget this had ever happened.

He rested his hand on her thigh.

She smacked his fingers so hard they smarted.

Then she gestured to an ivory building behind the wedding cake monument at the end of The Aisle. “The Harmony Lake Reception Hall isn’t as fancy as the Rose and Dove, but it’s been around as long. There are actually seventeen reception halls in Bliss, not counting churches and the community center. Or the ranch outside of town. Although, it’s not a real ranch, because they don’t raise animals, but—”

“I hear there’s a bistro nearby that serves coconut shrimp,” Josh said.

Kimmie sucked her lips into her mouth. Her knuckles went white. “We did a goat groom’s cake once for a wedding out there.”

“Although, I’d be up for dinner at your place,” he continued. “More intimate. No gawkers. No cameras. I’ve been dreaming about all the things we could do with your secret coconut stash. You
do
have a secret coconut stash, don’t you, darling?”

There went those jagged flames on her cheeks. She turned off The Aisle and onto the road that looped the lake behind the gaudy wedding cake statue. The amount of money put into erecting that monstrosity of a monument probably could’ve funded a soup kitchen for a year.

“If you want to tempt me with coconut, you’re far better off suggesting Suckers,” Kimmie said.

“Sure. We can get a pie to go.”

The sooner Kimmie cracked, the better for everyone. Not only was Aiden having issues, Josh had seen the marketing reports on the consumer tests of Sweet Dreams’s new fall line of snack cakes today.

Abysmal.

“Why did Birdie leave her share of Heaven’s Bakery to you?” Kimmie asked.

Her mother had asked the same question, but she’d done it with a nose tilt that suggested the world would’ve been a better place if he’d died in a gutter when he was ten. Kimmie, though, had a hitch in her voice, knuckles white, cheeks painted with a jagged stain.

His privacy demanded that he give her the same answer he’d given her mother.
To annoy you
.

But Kimmie, he’d begun to suspect, wasn’t the same breed of monster that her mother was. And between his gut and what he’d found after digging into Bliss and Kimmie, the truth seemed a solid strategy. “Most likely because I loaned her the money to buy it in the first place.”

She flicked her wary eyes off the road. “You did?”

He treated her to his best bedroom smile. “I do good things for people I care about. The money was a gift. She didn’t have to repay me a thing.”

“Hmm.” Her attention returned to the pavement. “My mother used that money to fund Knot Fest after the flood,” she said quietly. “It’s the biggest economic event of the year around here. She saved Bliss. Birdie saved Bliss.
You
saved Bliss. Thank you.”

He fumbled for a suave comeback, but it wasn’t often Josh was called a hero.

Sure, he got it when he bought thousand-dollar tickets for charity galas, but that wasn’t Josh.

That was Sweet Dreams money.

The money he’d given Birdie was Sweet Dreams money too, from his trust fund. It should’ve felt the same. But he was sitting in a fabric-covered seat in an old-model Subaru instead of the leather seats of his Porsche 911 Carrera convertible, no tux-clad millionaires and billionaires schmoozing with him and talking about the good their dollars would do for the less fortunate, no fancy dresses, no thunderous applause.

Getting thanked by a girl whose job—whose town, whose
home
—was saved by a gift he’d given a friend.

A girl who, now that he thought about it, had probably borne the brunt of her mother’s tirades over Josh annoying her. God knew he’d gone out of his way to make sure Marilyn disliked him as much as he disliked her. The woman was a bully.

He hated bullies.

“Were you close to her? To Birdie?” Kimmie asked.

Josh swallowed. “She was a good lady.”

She’d been more than a good lady. She’d been Josh’s family.

More than he’d trusted his parents to be for a long, long time.

“I don’t think she ever came to Bliss to see the bakery herself,” Kimmie said. “I wonder if she would’ve liked it?”

Josh had never thought to ask. He’d been there when Marilyn had shown up at Birdie’s little apartment above his parents’ garage and presented the Heaven’s Bakery
opportunity
to Birdie. He’d listened in from the kitchen, ready to come out and put the snooty Marilyn in her place if need be. But after Marilyn left, Birdie had joined him in her little kitchen, and she’d grinned with all the spunk he’d loved about her. “I do believe I could make that woman’s life hell,” she’d said.