With Me In Seattle: Bundle Two (34 page)

“Okay, for now.”

“You’re hot, but you’re not irresistible, you know.”

“You think I’m hot?” I grin and lean my shoulder against the cold glass of the window, watching cars drive by below.

“I have to go, egomaniac.”

“I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

“I just told you…”

“As friends. Friends drink coffee, right? Do you serve coffee at your bakery?”

She chuckles in my ear, and the tension in my stomach loosens as I hear her softening.

“Yes, I serve coffee.”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Matt.”

“Good night, little one.” I hang up, change into my gym clothes and head for the door. I’m too restless to be home. I need to burn off some steam, and going to the club tonight holds no interest for me.

Which in and of itself should be another big red flag.

The ten-block jog to the gym is invigorating. Summer has settled nicely over Seattle, making the days warm and the nights just perfect.

I start on the weights, working my core and arms today. Just when I’ve finished my second set of bench press, I sit up and pull my T-shirt over my head, wipe the sweat off my brow and chest with it, and throw it on the floor. As I take a long drink of water, my eyes survey the room.

And that’s when I see her. Jesus, we belong to the same gym? She’s on a treadmill across the room, running at a fast clip. Earbuds are tucked in her ears, and her eyes are on the console of the treadmill, probably watching her distance.

She’s wearing nothing but black shorts and a tight black tank top. More of her body is exposed now than it was when I was plunged deep inside her.

Her little body is firm, yet curvy in the right places. Her arms are defined, probably from all the manual labor she does while baking.

When she’s finished running and climbs off the treadmill, takes a long drink of water and wipes her face with a towel, I walk toward her.

Shit, I must look like a fucking stalker.

I keep my eyes trained on her as I approach, eager to see what her reaction will be when she sees me.

And I’m not disappointed when her eyes widen and her mouth opens as she lets those gorgeous green eyes roam down my body. My cock tightens at her gaze, and I want to pull her against me and kiss her stupid. But I just stay where I am, watching her.

She quickly recovers and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, Matt, it’s called stalking now.”

I grin and offer her a fresh bottle of water, which she accepts, unscrews the cap and takes a sip.

Fuck, she has beautiful lips. Lips that look amazing wrapped around the head of my cock.

“It’s not a crime to belong to a gym,” I reply.

“
My
gym?”

“Do you own it?” I ask with a grin.

She laughs and shakes her head. “No.”

“It’s not far from my apartment, and it’s convenient to work, too, so here I am.”

She nods and glances down, not sure what to say next.

“The cake was delicious today,” I comment casually, giving her the opportunity to talk about her work.

“Oh, good!” She grins and joins me as I walk toward the smoothie bar, pull out a chair for her to drop into at one of the tiny two-person tables and sit opposite her. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“You do good work. Leo and Sam are always talking about your cupcakes.”

“Leo and Sam keep me in business, I swear.” She laughs, sending electricity down my spine. “They’re very good customers.”

I nod, watching her.

“I like your shorter hair,” I murmur and reach out to brush the ends with my finger, enjoying the softness.

“Most men like long hair,” she replies softly.

“I like long hair, too. You look beautiful in both.”

She frowns and glances away from me.

“Why did you cut your hair, Nic?”

She shrugs and won’t meet my gaze. “It was time for a change.”

“Try again,” I reply.

She turns her eyes to mine and squares her shoulders, firms her chin. “It was time for a change.”

That’s a lie.

I cross my arms over my naked chest and drag my finger over my lip, watching her squirm.

She isn’t a good liar.

Good.

“Okay.”

She sighs, relieved, before I continue.

“For now.”

She scowls at me, making me laugh. “Friends don’t lie to each other, little one. The sooner you remember that, the better.”

“You’ve known me for three minutes, Matt. Don’t assume you know all there is to know about me.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” I murmur with a grin.

“Well, you
are
an ass,” she replies and then giggles.

I lean in and rest my mouth next to her ear. “This ass would love to smack
your
pretty little ass until it glows,” I whisper so only she can hear.

She gasps and pulls back so she can look me in the eye, and I see it. The hunger. The lust. The awareness.

“Friends don’t usually threaten to spank each other’s asses,” she murmurs softly.

I lean back in my chair, not answering her, and cross my arms again as she pulls herself together.

“I should head home,” she says finally and stands. “I have to be in the shop early tomorrow.”

“It was good to see you, Nic,” I reply, allowing her to run. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looks like she wants to say something more, probably to tell me not to bother coming into her shop, but she just shrugs and offers me a half smile before turning and walking away.

Yes, I’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow.

Chapter Three

~Nicole~

This ass would love to smack
your
pretty little ass until it glows.

Christ on a crutch, who in the bloody hell says something like that?

I turn onto my side and stare at my alarm clock. 4:43. My alarm is going to go off in seventeen minutes, and I haven’t slept a wink. Not even after a three-mile run and a hot, hot shower.

Instead, all I could hear was Matt’s deep voice running through my head. His ice-blue eyes haunted me, the way they shine when he’s happy and darken when he’s turned on.

And they darken a lot when he looks at me.

I’d like to lick him.

Except, he would rather tie me up.

And the part that scares me is, I’d like for him to tie me up, too.

Dear God, what is wrong with me?

I sit up and turn off my alarm before trudging into the bathroom to begin getting ready for my day. When I go down to the shop in the mornings to bake the cupcakes for the day, I forgo any makeup in favor of comfort, then run upstairs about thirty minutes before we open to primp and be presentable for the clients. So it only takes a few minutes to pull on clothes, push my hair back with a headband—the one reason that I regret cutting my hair is no more ponytails—and I’m on my way down to the kitchen.

My work space is my pride and joy. I attended countless used commercial kitchen auctions, biding my time until I found the perfect equipment for just the right price. The stainless steel counters gleam under the fluorescent lights. My ovens are almost orgasm-inducing.

I love this place.

The front of the house was designed with the same care. I have a long glass display case that can hold roughly fifty dozen cupcakes at any time. I have an industrial espresso machine that would make Starbucks proud.

The color scheme is red, white and black. The floor is covered in black and white tile. The tables are little black wrought iron bistro tables for two covered in red tablecloths, and there is a long pub-height table by the front windows where people can stand with their treats and watch the traffic or the many musicians who come and go out of the nondescript recording studio across the street.

I’ve been open for just over a year, and I couldn’t be happier with the success of the shop. Succulent Sweets has made a profit from the first month, which I know is rare.

I work my ass off for it.

I set out my ingredients for the different flavors of cakes and dig in immediately. It’s a Sunday, so I’m open only half the day, from nine to one, but I still have orders to fill for two birthday parties, a baptism and a baby shower.

Thank God cupcakes are all the rage these days.

After the cupcakes that will be sold in the shop are all baked for the day, I let them cool while I bake the special orders. Just as I’m about to begin decorating, Tess, my part-time employee, bounces into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she sings and smiles widely.

“You are very chipper for this early on a Sunday morning,” I respond with a smile. “And good morning.”

“I went out last night,” she announces as she ties her white apron around her trim waist. Tess is tall and thin, with thick blond, red and
pink
hair. She wears black-rimmed glasses that are almost as big as her face, but she insists they’re very cool.

And, I have to admit, she looks adorable in them.

She pulls her hair back into a ponytail and grabs some frosting out of the fridge, ready to help me finish up today’s baking.

“Who is he?” I ask.

“His name is Sean…” She scrunches up her face. “Sean something.”

“Geez, Tess.”

“Oh stop, I had a bit to drink. He’s tall and built, and he has his nipples pierced.”

“Ouch,” I reply with a laugh.

Tess laughs with me as she frosts the lemon cupcakes with lemon frosting.

“How was your night?” she asks.

“Fine. I just went to the gym.”

“Oh.” She sighs and looks at me like I’m an old maid.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I just wish you’d go out and have fun,” she replies and arranges the lemon cupcakes on a long plastic tray, ready for the glass case.

“I do go out and have fun,” I reply.

“Going to kitchen auctions is not having fun,” she responds sarcastically.

I send her the stink eye, and she visibly shrinks before holding her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure the kitchen auctions are totally fun and full of really hot guys.”

“You’re a smart-ass.” I laugh and put the finishing touches on two dozen It’s A Girl treats for my client.

“You love me,” she replies and kisses my cheek before she bounces out to arrange the glass case out front.

“Okay,” I announce when she returns, “these special orders just need to be boxed up. Do you mind doing that while I run upstairs and shower? I’ll finish up with the daily special when I come back down.”

“No problem. Take your time. We’re ahead of schedule, boss lady.”

I shake my head and chuckle as I climb the stairs to my apartment, shedding clothing on the way.

Tess is young, only in her early twenties and still in college, but she’s a hard worker. She loves the shop, and I enjoy having her around. There’s never a dull moment when she’s working.

It doesn’t take me long to shower and dress in my uniform of black slacks and red T-shirt with a white apron, tie the red ribbon in my hair like a headband and brush on a bit of makeup.

When I return to the kitchen, we still have forty-five minutes until we open, so we spend that time frosting the daily special—white chocolate mocha—and preparing batter for the next morning.

At nine a.m., Tess unlocks the door and immediately a small crowd of guests pours in to order a treat and coffee.

When the crowd finally dies down at about twelve thirty, I have a moment to slip in the back and quickly eat a banana and string cheese before consolidating the cupcakes in the glass case and tidying up the seating area.

The bell over the door rings behind me as I’m tucking chairs under a table.

“It smells amazing in here.”

I’d know that voice anywhere.

It was in my head all night long.

I turn to find Matt and a slightly shorter, dark-haired man I’ve never seen before standing just inside the door. Matt has his hands in the pockets of his jeans and is smiling at me. The man with him has already crossed to the case, practically drooling over the cakes inside.

“Hi,” I murmur, smoothing my hands down my apron.

“How’s business today?” Matt asks as I walk behind the case, putting a good three feet between us.

“It’s been busy. It just started to slow down.”

“Montgomery has lost his manners,” Matt’s friend informs me with a smile. “I’m his partner, Asher.”

“Hi, I’m Nic Dalton.”

“I’ve driven by this place a hundred times and have always meant to come in.” Asher grins as he peruses the case. “What do you recommend?”

“The chocolate,” I reply, my gaze still stuck on Matt.

He’s remained quiet, hanging back, watching my every move.

It’s unnerving and yet comforting in a way I can’t explain.

He’s in a dark blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled, and it suddenly occurs to me that he’s wearing a holster at his waist with a handgun and a badge clipped to it.

Glancing at Asher, I see he’s wearing the same.

I raise an eyebrow at Matt. “I don’t sell doughnuts here.”

His lips twitch. I had no idea he’s a cop!

“Maybe we need a change of pace,” Matt replies. “Besides, I told you I’d be in today.”

I nod and smile at Asher. “You sick of doughnuts, too?”

“I never get sick of doughnuts. But I’ll take that chocolate cupcake right there.”

I place his treat on a plate and hand it to him. He peels the paper off and takes a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Marry me,” he announces and stuffs the rest in his mouth. “Marry me right now. We’ll go to Vegas.”

I laugh and shake my head. “What can I get you, Matt?”

“Dinner tomorrow night,” he replies smoothly.

“Dude, you’re good,” Asher compliments him. “But she’s marrying
me
.”

“Who’s marrying who?” Tess asks as she returns from the kitchen then stops in her tracks. Her eyes widen as she takes in the two very attractive—okay, gorgeous—men chatting with me.

“Nic is going to marry me,” Asher announces with a wink.

“Or, I can just keep baking cupcakes and you’re welcome to stop in from time to time. That way, there are no messy contracts or things like commitment,” I suggest with a laugh.