Tempting Taste

by Sara Whitney

  Then another trio entered the reception room, and this time her jealousy jumped off the charts. Lily floated across the room in a vine-embroidered green dress flanked by a handsome man on each side. The dark-haired man holding her hand was undeniably attractive, but Erik? He was Thor, god of thunder, arriving at Valhalla, if Valhalla had an open bar with a signature cocktail called Love Always Wins and Tonics. And Thor, god of thunder, was walking straight toward her.

  “Um, did the guys change the seating chart last night?” she asked Cecil, fighting to calm her nerves.

  “Dunno.” He shrugged, apparently unconcerned that the trio of Georgia cousins who were supposed to be at the cool-friends and family table had been replaced by a perfectly nice florist, her (presumably) perfectly nice husband, and a baker who was so much more complex than “nice” could begin to cover.

  Still, she was Josie freaking Ryan, and a heaping dose of discomfort mixed with sexual tension wasn’t about to keep her from doing her Josie freaking Ryan thing. “Hey, guys! Lily, I’m swooning over how great that dress is. Everybody, Lily took care of all the flowers tonight, and Erik made the cake. We are in the presence of artisans.”

  Finn, Tom, and Cecil all said hello as Lily settled herself gracefully into her chair, as long and lean as the plumosa ferns she’d placed around the wedding hall. “Hi, everyone. This is my husband, Grant. If you need something to talk with him about, just ask him how the Cubs’ free-agent acquisitions are doing in comparison to the Yankees.”

  Grant groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Can we not air our bitter rivalry in public, please?”

  The rest of the group slid into baseball chatter while Josie grappled with the fact that unfortunately—or fortunately? She wasn’t sure anymore—Erik had ended up in the seat directly across from her at the round table. Lily had thoughtfully kept the fern-and-feather table arrangements low enough that nobody’s line of sight would be blocked, which meant she’d be spending her evening studying the triangle of exposed skin at the base of Erik’s throat where it was bracketed by the open collar of his crisp white dress shirt.

  “So!” she said a touch too brightly as the uniformed waitstaff started making the rounds of the room with the plated dinners. “Nobody’s throwing any bouquets at this wedding. What a relief to be off the hook for a change, right, Finnie?”

  She’d expected minor flushing and stammering from her reserved roommate, but instead Finn and Tom shared a sly glance, and Tom linked his fingers with Finn’s, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it.

  “I don’t know about that,” she said without shifting her focus from her boyfriend.

  It was like that then? Engagement, marriage, happily ever after? Geez, she really would need to find her own place. She slid her eyes over to Jake, who looked equally floored by the reveal.

  He leaned close to murmur, “Did you know about this?”

  She shook her head and glanced across the table to find Erik trying to set her on fire with his gaze. Her skin heated, and she looked down at the bouquet, shocked to find herself the flustered one.

  By the time she’d composed herself, the rest of the table had dived into their meals and the conversation had moved on to Lily’s flower-wholesaler secrets, which allowed Josie to focus on the honey-glazed salmon on the plate in front of her. It melted into flavorful deliciousness the instant it touched her tongue, sure, but it also kept her from shouting over the table and demanding to know what Erik’s deal was already. Where was Gina? Had they ever been engaged? And how dare he show up looking this good?

  Soon enough the meal was over, and the deejay handed the microphone off to Richard to start the toasts.

  “Friends. Family. Friends who’ve become family,” he began. “Byron and I are so touched that you’re here with us on this special day. And I’d like to share a little story that some of you know and many of you don’t. It’s the story of how I left a pair of pants in an Uber and Byron found a pair of pants in an Uber, and even though it wasn’t the same pair of pants, it nevertheless brought us together.”

  The chuckles that moved through the room turned to full-blown laughter as Richard described his and Byron’s modern fairy-tale meeting, which he concluded by turning to his new husband with a soft smile. “Everyone who finds love in this world is lucky, and tonight I feel like the luckiest of them all.”

  Emotion clogged Josie’s throat, and she stared down at the bubbles swirling in her champagne flute, guiltily aware of the twinge of self-pity coloring her joy for the two of them. When she looked up, she found Erik’s unreadable gaze on her, and she stared back for a long moment, snared by his blue eyes, before wrenching away at Richard’s cry of, “To love!”

  After the assembled company cheered and sipped, it was her turn at the microphone. She swept to her feet and walked to stand behind the grooms’ table, relieved to be in her comfort zone.

  “Let’s hear it for finding love in the gig economy, everyone!” She soaked up the laughter and turned up her wattage. “I’m Josie Ryan, Richard’s best maid, and I’m here to offer a few more reasons why these two men are perfect for each other.”

  Give her a crowd and a few prepared jokes, and she’d rise to the occasion. By the time she’d wrapped up her toast, the newlyweds were gazing at each other in goofy adoration, and the crowd roared when she instructed them to raise their glasses.

  The night got even better when Richard and Byron sliced into the cake. Oh, the cake. Although she and Erik had been out of touch while he’d been finishing it up, she’d marveled at the end results earlier in the evening. She had no idea how he’d done it, but the gold-veined blue-and-white marble looked so authentic you’d almost expect to see it in a South Beach villa owned by a cartel kingpin whose decorating aesthetic was juuuust on the right side of gaudy. In other words, it was perfect for the couple whose love it was honoring. And of course it was the best-tasting cake she’d ever had in her mouth.

  “Oh my God, each flavor’s better than the last one.” Finn moaned after she and Tom exchanged bites from each other’s plates.

  When Josie turned a speculative eye on Jake’s half-eaten slice of peach-pecan, he tossed up his hand as a barrier. “You already finished your piece. Live with your choices.”

  “Food aggression much?” she scoffed. “I was just looking to see what flavor you picked!”

  He shifted the plate closer with a dark look, and when she glanced to her right, Cecil edged his plate of chocolate hazelnut farther away from her to continue inhaling it. At her huff of exasperation, Jake laughed. “Just go and get a second piece, devil woman!”

  “I will if you’ll save me a dance.” As this wasn’t their first friend-group wedding, Josie knew for a fact that Jake danced the way he performed every other social nicety expected of him: with technical flawlessness and a total lack of zeal. But it was also good for him to remember that life existed outside the walls of his office, and sometimes that life involved a compulsory dance or two with an equally single friend. In fact, he might just be her most frequent wedding dance partner, and wasn’t that saying something about her pathetic love life?

  “My pleasure,” he said, almost managing to sound sincere.

  “The awkward platonic tradition continues!” she said with a laugh. But when she glanced across the table, she found a pair of blue eyes glaring at her, so she glared right back. Mister “I’m possibly engaged but maybe not” could go ahead and stare daggers at her until those gorgeous eyes fell right out of his head. What did she care? It’s not like he had any right to be jealous.

  She hardened her jaw and flounced out of her chair to grab a piece of cardamom before the dancing got underway in earnest.

  She might be confused over everything having to do with Erik, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t eat every crumb of his cake that she could get her hands on.

  Nineteen

  Erik was strapped to a roller coaster, and he hated it.

  First was the agony of watching Josie
exchange private glances with that good-looking asshole she was sitting next to. Then came the perverse pleasure of watching her bound out of her chair to toast the newlyweds. She spoke for close to six minutes with no notes and, effortlessly and with great charm, had the whole reception hall laughing. How anybody possessed the skill and courage to do that he’d never know, and he hoped never to find out for himself. Then there was the ecstasy of watching her eyes roll back as she wrapped her red lips around that first bite of cake, knowing that he was the one who did that to her. And, finally, there was his old friend agony again when she and fucking Jake agreed to a dance.

  As the guests flocked to the floor, Erik started eyeing the exit. He’d satisfied his masochistic curiosity about Josie in The Dress—it was even more torturous than he’d expected, showing vast swaths of flawless skin—and now it was time to go. Look-but-don’t-touch had been difficult enough before he’d given in and put his hands all over her. But now that he had the memory of her taste on his lips, look-but-don’t-touch when she was lit from within and wrapped in filmy blue material might actually kill him.

  Before he could make good on his exit strategy, a polite voice yanked his thoughts back into the now. “Excuse me. Are you the baker?”

  He turned to see a silver-haired woman from a nearby table hovering at his elbow and nodded.

  “The cake was divine! Can I talk with you next week about baking something similar for my fiftieth wedding anniversary party next month?”

  “Absolutely.” He didn’t have to force his smile as he took down her information. Another job meant another small weight lifted from his shoulders.

  Across the table, Josie’s hand darted into her clutch and emerged with a Have Your Cake business card.

  But he raised his brows and produced an identical stack of cards from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here. I’ll call you on Monday to set up a meeting.”

  “Wonderful!” the woman trilled as she tucked the card into her handbag. “I look forward to it.”

  When he looked back across the table, Josie was beaming at him like a proud parent.

  “They grow up so fast!” She wiped a pretend tear from the corner of her eye. “I’ll make a marketing expert out of you yet.”

  His lips pinched together as he crammed the cards back into his pocket. “It is my business, after all.” He hated that he sounded testy, but God, how many emotions was he supposed to juggle in one night? Lust, pride, regret, relief. It was too much—and that was before Finn’s handsome fucking brother chose that moment to stand and offer Josie his hand.

  “Shall we?” he asked, and she grinned up at him and chirped, “We shall!”

  Add murderous jealousy to that list.

  His eyes tracked their progress to the floor, and any hope that he’d been at all circumspect about his surveillance was dashed when Lily patted his knee under the table.

  “You could ask her to dance next, you know.”

  “I don’t—”

  She cut him off. “Oh please, you’re not fooling anybody. Just do it.”

  Ridiculous. Him, dancing? His bulk on the dance floor would have all the grace and charm of a barge.

  “Quit tormenting him, sweetheart,” Grant said. “Come argue with me on the dance floor.”

  Every starchy bit of Lily melted as her husband pulled her to her feet and they walked away hand in hand, leaving Erik alone with Byron’s brother, who was immersed in God knew what on his phone.

  Nothing to do but watch the happy couples swaying to Lady Gaga’s cover of “Your Song.” He had strong opinions on the topic of wedding songs after lingering around the periphery of countless receptions over the past half a year, and it was usually one of his favorites. But tonight Gaga’s singing dragged on and on while his narrowed eyes focused in on the places where Jake’s hands made contact with Josie’s body: her fingers, her waist, her back where her dress dipped low. He wanted to storm the parquet floor and forcibly separate the pair of them. Then, to his horror, the deejay queued up a second slow song as Gaga’s final notes faded, and Josie and Jake showed no signs of leaving the floor.

  He was up and out of his chair without a second thought, striding across the room to the opening notes of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Touching Josie’s shoulder took every ounce of courage he could summon, but he did it, forcing his arm up, allowing his fingers to skate along her upper arm. She looked around in surprise.

  “Dance with me.” Now that the words were out, he was aware of how likely she was to loudly tell him to fuck off. They hadn’t exactly had a proper apology session yet, and she could be… impulsive.

  After a split second of silence, she cut her glance to Jake and said, “I guess you’re off the hook.”

  His insides eased when Jake turned and left the floor without argument and Josie moved into his waiting arms. It was the two of them now, and the reception hall shrank to the small circle of space that encompassed only them as Elvis’s voice crooned through the speakers.

  His nerves fled as his fingers took their place at her waist, half on the soft material of that damn dress and half on her warm back. It felt right to be touching her. His skin had been craving hers for two weeks, and if he had to stand in the middle of a group of people to satisfy that need, so be it.

  She slid her arm around him and he pulled her closer, only relaxing into the dance when she gave a little sigh and melted into him. While she and Jake had chatted through the entirety of their song—and Erik knew that to be a fact because he’d watched every second of it—all her words dried up once she was in his arms. But her eyes never left his, and they seemed to be asking a question.

  He could guess what it was, or at least land in the ballpark. And he owed her those answers. So as the song came to an end, he dropped one hand from her back but kept hold of her fingers with the other, using that connection to lead her off the floor and out onto one of the balconies overlooking the sleepy street below.

  By some miracle, the area was empty of guests, but he still led her through the velvety summer air to a dark corner where the strands of lights twined overhead didn’t quite penetrate. She leaned against the metal railing with her back to the street while he leaned against it with his back to the building. It was an apt metaphor for the two of them: in the same spot but facing opposite directions.

  “Good cake,” she said after a moment.

  Small talk? Okay. If that’s what she needed. “Thanks. It’s what I do. Good speech.”

  She flashed a cocky smile. “Thanks. It’s what I do.”

  “Are you seriously not into him?” Fuck, that was abrupt, but he had to know.

  “Who, Jake?” Her laughter floated over the muffled sounds of the party raging just beyond them. “No. Not for years and years. Now he’s just fun to tease.”

  His fingers tightened around the metal railing. “Like I’m fun to tease?” The words hurt his throat, hurt his heart, but Christ, he needed to know. Needed to know if he was just another Jake to her, another man to string along and laugh about.

  She studied him in silence for a moment, until he worried that she didn’t intend to answer.

  “No,” she finally said. “I mean, you’re fun to tease too, but it’s… different.”

  Different how? He wanted to howl the question, but instead she threw the conversation back at him.

  “Erik.” Her voice was serious but gentle. “I need you to explain.”

  He didn’t ask her to clarify. Releasing a long breath, he tipped his head to the sky and prepared to mine the most disappointing parts of himself. “I lied to you about being engaged to Gina. But I lied to my grandfather about it first.”

  Josie said nothing, so he continued.

  “I’ve known her since we were kids. Her parents weren’t the best, so she was at our place pretty often.” He paused to sort through his memories of the dysfunction that had filled every corner of Gina’s unhappy childhood home, particularly after she’d come out to her parents in high school. “P
ops loved her. He wanted me to love her. And I do, but not the way he meant. I tried though.”

  He lapsed into silence as images of his grandfather’s strong body wasting away in a hospital bed surfaced. “He spent his last weeks in the Mayo Clinic. Complications from a rare blood cancer.”

  Josie’s head bobbed once as if she’d just slotted a puzzle piece into place. “That’s why you knew so much when I was making plans for Richard.”

  “It’s not a great thing to be experienced in, believe me.” The sky above them was empty of stars thanks to the city’s light pollution. He’d never not find that disorienting. “The only thing he could focus on at the end was me. My future. He wanted me to forget about baking and move back to the farm. Marry Gina. Have a stable life. And never, ever live like my mother, chasing pointless, risky dreams. And I promised him I would.”

  He clenched the metal railing, welcoming the scrape of rust on the underside against his fingers as remorse clogged his throat. He’d done everything his grandfather had begged him not to do. Sold the farm. Risked it all on a likely-to-fail new business. Set his sights on a woman who was Gina’s polar opposite in almost every way.

  Josie shifted against the railing. “So you told a kind lie to a dying man you loved very much.”

  He nodded, unable to speak.

  “Has it occurred to you that you eased his final days, and that’s no reason to punish yourself for the rest of your life?”

  Sure. Because forgiving himself was that easy. He risked a glance at her beautiful face and found her serious and unusually still in the silvery moonlight.

  “And that day in your apartment?” she asked.