Twice Smitten (A Modern Fairy Tale) (14 page)

Her dark caramel gaze went to him, and he caught the smirk before she hid it behind a cool expression. “Anything you want to add?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Just observing.”

She faced the room. “Ok. We go again tomorrow.” To her team, she said, “Bring your A game.”

Anger crossed Janice’s face so fast, if he hadn’t been observing, Drew would have missed it. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed a less than enthusiastic reception from an order Abigail had given the woman. Janice’s track record to provide the clients with what they wanted, visually, was good, but it wasn’t stellar either. More misses than hits blanketed her portfolio. He made a mental note to spend some extra time with her. With the game plan set, the room emptied quickly.

Abigail approached him and the thought flitted away. She moved toward him as though the wall that had always seemed to separate them was gone. Something in her walk and in her gaze promised all the things he’d imagined she could do. Something slow, seductive and unbidden.

This was how she walked the first time he’d seen her in that book store. The hairs along his arms had sat up from the sudden frisson in the air. Drew’s vision had tunneled, and all he could see was Abby. Then all he had wanted was for her to make those same unspoken promises to him. Whisper every one of them in his ear with succulent lips brushing his earlobe as she did. The words would fill his head with images and his deepest, unspoken desire would finally have an outlet.

Now, he could devour the unfathomable depth of the woman standing in front of him. He yearned for Abby in a way that couldn’t compare to anything he’d ever experienced. Until this moment he’d felt like a kid with his face pressed against the glass window of a candy store. A store he’d been forbidden to enter. If she thought he would lose interest once the door opened, and he was welcomed in, she was wrong.

True, a part of Drew was scared out of his mind that he’d blow it. He spent most of his life never trying to meet anyone’s expectations. Maybe he was the man everyone believed him to be. Irresponsible and useless when it came down to the wire. That fear pounded against his skull and must have showed in his expression because she tilted her head.

He fell back on what he did best and showed a confidence he lacked at the moment. “I believe earlier I heard the promise of another helping of Late Night.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Is this your way of angling for an invite?”

“If this is your way of offering one? If so, I gladly accept.” He smiled though fear spiked his heart rate.

She shook her head and laughed softly. “Since this is our way of communicating—it’s dysfunctional by the way—we’ve got to hurry. We’ve been at this for a while. Sweet Tooth will close soon. Not even flashing my best friend card will keep Emma from going home with Tobias, on time.”

The words slowed his heart rate. “Then let’s get a move on it.”

It took them less than fifteen minutes to get to Sweet Tooth. Both Abigail and Drew stood by the door, away from the choreographed mayhem they’d interrupted. Tobias moved around the bakery with ease, helping with the general clean up.

A young man, who looked like a lankier, younger version of Tobias, wiped down the tables. No one needed to be told what to do or reminded what needed to go where. The people, and probably the place, ran liked a well-oiled machine. Their movements were synchronized and though they may not be an official family yet, they worked like one.

“Amazing to watch isn’t?” Abigail whispered to him as they waited for Emma to place their desserts in a box. Her friend disappeared into the hallway to a kitchen.

“My mind’s boggled at the moment. Where’s the fighting? The cajoling? Threats?”

“It exists with them.” Abigail ran her fingers through her hair. “But they come from stable stock. Gives them an advantage.”

Right, she’d been around plenty of his family’s get-togethers and witnessed his brand of familial passive-aggressive functionality. His aunt, Nadine, was blunt but that was rare. Marilyn picked up the same gene. Two people out of three living generations? Forthright was a long shot. The common-place method in his family was playing puppet master. You never said outright how you felt about the person to their face. Because of it, he learned to read a room fast. He also picked up the skills to be who someone wanted him to be. He hated every moment of it but habits died hard.

“I remember your mother and grandmother,” he said.

“How could you forget?” Abigail laughed. “Fisticuffs within five minutes.”

“May sound like a betrayal, but I had money on your mom.”

Abigail pffted. “Nadine could have taken my mom. Once my mother’s disarmed.”

He smiled down at her. “Probably why she never goes around without knives. That’s your advantage.”

“Maybe.”

He didn’t broach the subject of her father. She rarely did and that told him all he needed to know about the relationship. Probably warm but not open. Emma rounded the large display case with the bag filled with their desserts. Tobias and the young man trailed behind her. She’d long since shut off the kitchen and hallway lights. The partial darkness left the shop feeling eerily without character.

Emma handed Abigail the bag with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the rudeness. It’s movie night. Josh gets grumpy if we’re late.”

The young man stood next to Tobias and the resemblance was uncanny. He had the same eye color as the older man. The man and boy might have been the same height if Josh stopped hunching over.

Those dark, impenetrable eyes didn’t miss anything either. “Hey,” Josh said.

“Hey,” Drew replied back, and stepped out the door since they all held expectant expressions. With his back to them he said, “No need to apologize. I came here fully aware we’d probably be turned away.”

Abigail said, “I was banking on our friendship you wouldn’t toss me out.”

He heard Emma snort, but turned in time to see the smile. “You’re lucky I love you.” Emma embraced Abigail in a hug and then headed to the street. “But, next time…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Abigail said.

Tobias’ chuckle rumbled low. “You’ll do it again.”

Abigail placed her hands on her chest. “Already you know me so well.”

Emma waved, now at a car across the street. “Night.” She rounded the vehicle before yelling, “By the way, I wanted to invite you to our engagement party, Drew. Ask Abigail for all the details.”

Tobias and Josh reached the car. Drew stole a glance at Abigail’s face. If looks could kill. “Uh,” he replied.

Emma laughed and then disappeared inside the vehicle. The men followed. The sound of the car starting broke the quiet of the street, but once gone the calm settled over the commercial neighborhood. An open store down the way kept the street from feeling completely deserted, but that was it.

They were alone.

“Your friend…” Drew stopped to think of the best way to describe Emma.

“Isn’t subtle.” Abigail dug into the bag and handed him the warm bakery box.

“Exactly,” Drew said. “Fresh?”

“She heated it up.” She took out the other box, walked to his car and settled it on the hood.

“You’re going to eat standing up?”

She’d chosen some sort of cake instead of cookies. “Years ago my friend went through a really tough time. She started to bake. I mean, up in the middle of the night-type of baking.”

Abigail shrugged, took a small bite. “Part of me figured it’d pass, but everything she made tasted delicious. At the end of the day, I’d go over to her house and there would be something else. Something you could sink your teeth into and die a little from how good it was.”

She sighed and it was more like a breathy little moan. “Good or bad day I can’t go without the smell of something sweet. It’s more than comfort food, it’s like having a cup of coffee in the morning.”

“It’s a ritual.” Drew lifted his own pastry box.

“Exactly. Right now the dessert is warm. By the time I’d have gotten home it wouldn’t be.” She shook her head. “Long story short, I am shameless.”

“You’re forgetting I already had the forbidden Late Night. I understand.”

She hummed with great emphasis, and again it sounded like pure pleasure to Drew. The next step was natural—he imagined Abigail making that sound, not even in the bedroom, but maybe, even, on the hood of his car.

Before his mind could really run away with the thought, headlights brightened the street. A police car cruised by. They slowed when passing them but continued on.

He said, “Come on. We look conspicuous out here.”

“Where?” She was half-way through the cake.

“Car,” he said. “Since you aren’t going anywhere until you have demolished that.”

He unlocked the car door, pulled up the front seat and climbed into the back. Abigail mimicked his movements, but held a wary expression. When she sat down next to him she didn’t dig into the dessert again. He owned one of those mini-SUVs that looked more like a Jeep than its inspiration. To say the least, the back of the car was roomy. His mind followed hers and stayed there for a while.

“Is it just me or does this seem wrong?” Abigail asked.

Drew reached into the bag hanging from her arm and pulled out a fork. “You’re not naked. We’re not playing a horizontal game of Twister. So, yes, it does seem wrong.”

Abigail closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the seat. “For days and days, I’ve waited for the crude joke.” She looked at him, fighting a smile. “There it is. All is now right in the world. Now I know I’m dealing with the real Drew Carter.”

He tugged the plastic bag from her wrist. “Shush and eat.”

The hum again and she slid down the seat a little. “I should be embarrassed.”

He placed the pastry box strategically on his lap to hide the erection; otherwise he’d be the one embarrassed. “Why?”

“I’m pigging out and you still haven’t opened your dessert.” She paused, fork stabbing a corner of the cake. “And I can’t help but think I may steal some of yours anyway. I am a glutton.”

She was the glutton? Here he was sitting in the backseat with the woman he had a crush on for eons. She was making sounds that left him quite uncomfortable and all he could do was sit and listen. And enjoy the purr of her moans.

He cracked open the pastry box and took a good-sized portion of the crisp edge. The pastry melted on his tongue. Heaven washed over his taste buds. The caramel and raspberry syrup followed soon after.

His groan bordered on a soft growl. “I’m sure Emma is a great woman, but this might have swayed Tobias to marry her.”

“Late Night could sway me to marry her.” She closed her pastry box, and put it away in the bag on the floor.

The streetlights illuminated her face enough he could see the almost predatory glance at the dessert resting on his lap. An idea struck him, one that had probably been swirling around in the back of his mind and building up momentum since they stood outside Sweet Tooth. Using the fork, he broke off a small piece of the dessert, making sure it was equally covered in caramel and raspberry.

Drew held the utensil up. Abigail looked at it and then back at him. The challenge filled the relaxed air with a sudden tension. The action was innocent on the surface, but the possibilities underneath were sinful.

Abigail raised a brow, a smile playing on her lips. He jerked his head as if to say, “your move.” She kept her gaze on his and leaned forward. He guided the morsel into her mouth and watched the challenge fall away, replaced with pleasure as she savored the bite.

Glutton? She didn’t know the true meaning of the word. Without hesitation he placed more of the pastry onto the fork. He baited her to come closer with the fork poised between them, when she leaned forward, he changed directions and ate it.

“Damn you,” she murmured.

He closed his eyes, partly acting and partly because Late Night was a seduction all its own. “Do something about it.” He opened his eyes.

This went beyond her taking down the wall. There wasn’t hesitation in her gaze now, but the give he’d wanted. Drew didn’t know if something in the moment changed or if the change had been steam rolling its way to this destination the past few days. The fear within him, the doubts, all of it eased out of his frame.

Drew fed her another piece of Late Night. Abigail didn’t close her eyes when she moaned this time. It was made for him. He leaned forward to capture her bottom lip with his tongue. The flavor of Abigail and the dessert together was decadent. He was hard-pressed to put words to how the woman and pastry melded together. Instead, he savored the texture of the two, soft and moist. Abigail let out a breathy sigh, and he took advantage of her parted lips and slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

There, the texture of her flavor reminded him of every promise he imagined she’d make. She was hot and potent. His wet dream come to life. Drew lapped and savored her until the sound of desire reverberated from her throat. There should have been more finesse, but a fever took control of them both. The urge to know what her bare skin would feel pressed against his ceased all rational thought.

But then her hands were applying pressure to his chest. She breathed heavily, lips swollen into a pout. Her lids were low, but he could still see the want plain in her gaze. He didn’t wait for her to change her mind.

Drew encircled her waist, bringing Abigail closer to his aching erection. Her skirt prevented the position, for only a moment. She held still while his fingers searched for the zipper. Hidden on the side, he loosened the material and pulled it up. The skirt, hitched to her waist, revealed red satin underwear and a garter belt, and the exposed flesh of her upper thigh. If there had been room, he would have leaned forward to nip at the sensitive skin. Instead she straddled him, quelling the small regret.

Abigail shook back her silken strands. Her gaze focused on his mouth. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, he groaned and then her mouth was on his. Drew’s fingers tightened around her waist and pressed her down to feel the heat he wanted to slam into again and again until both of them were sated.

She rocked against him. He felt the moistened center through the satin material, she was hot and ready for him. They groaned from the friction of the movement.