Forking Around (Hot Cakes Book 2)

by Erin Nicholas

  7

  The first time she’d met him, Jane had wanted to kiss him.

  She’d told herself she couldn’t. It would never happen. It was a bad idea.

  But now… now that his lips were against hers, now that he’d made that little groaning sound in the back of his throat, now that his hands were on her hips and he was backing her up against the side of her car and pressing close, angling his head to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth, making her feel like he’d never wanted anything more… well, now she was a goner. Because it was still a bad idea. But, oh man, she didn’t care.

  He was the new strawberry pie in her life. She’d had one taste of Zoe’s strawberry pie and that had been it. Nothing else would ever measure up. She would never not crave it. She would never pass up a chance to have it on her tongue.

  Yeah, Dax Marshall was that.

  And then some.

  He pulled back, breathing hard, staring down at her.

  She quickly put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t talk. Talking is the wrong choice right now.”

  She was going to have to deal with the boss thing soon enough. And the millionaire thing. And the he-doesn’t-live-here-and-isn’t-staying thing. And all the other crap she always had to deal with that made this impossible.

  But for another minute—or maybe ten—she didn’t want to think about any of that. And if he talked, that would be very difficult.

  He pulled in a breath, gave her a short nod that she interpreted as okay, no talking and she moved her hand.

  Which was the right choice, because he leaned in as he slid his hand up the side of her body, skimming over her hip, waist, the side of her breast, up and into her hair. Then he cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers again.

  This time he kissed her.

  And seriously, she’d give up strawberry pie for this.

  That was the thought that flickered through her mind as he kissed her, holding her with that hand in her hair, the other slipping under the edge of her shirt just above her hip. His palm met bare skin and just rested there, burning into her like a brand. But he didn’t try to move higher, didn’t even rub or stroke, just rested it there.

  That area of skin, however, whooped it up. Her nerve endings were dancing, and heat streaked from there throughout her body.

  She wanted him to rub and stroke. Lots of places.

  He kissed her hungrily but also slow and deep as if he was savoring. Much the way she ate strawberry pie, come to think of it. She didn’t rush through that. She appreciated every bite. She kept it on her tongue as long as possible. She licked the tines of the fork to be sure she didn’t miss a bit.

  Dax was definitely kissing her like that. Like he didn’t want to miss even the slightest bit. Like he wanted to drag it out.

  His tongue, his lips, the way he held her, the way he put his whole body against her whole body, the way he felt and tasted and smelled… it was a whole experience.

  Jane arched closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, tasting him back. She slid her hands into his hair, running it through her fingers, then down the sides of his face, gliding her palms over his short beard. She let go of the sighs and moans that wanted to escape, letting him know she was all in here, totally and completely.

  They made out like that for long, delicious minutes.

  When he finally took his mouth from hers, it was to slide it along her jawline, his beard causing goose bumps to trip down her arms and tighten her nipples. In her ear he said gruffly, “I have to talk now.”

  She laughed lightly. “I didn’t think it would last for even this long, really.”

  “Well, I do love using my mouth this way too.” He dragged his lips along the side of her neck.

  Her nipples got even tighter, begging for him to drag those lips down there.

  “But I can’t resist saying—” He lifted his head. “You are the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. And I really like gummy bears.”

  She grinned. “Well… same.”

  A very sexy kind of surprised but superhot look crossed his face. “What about those jar pies?”

  She sighed. “Those are amazing.”

  “But the kissing…” he prompted.

  She knew she shouldn’t tell him the truth. The guy’s ego didn’t quit. Already. But she found herself nodding. “I was really hoping you’d be bad at it. Like terrible. Like no-worry-of-dirty-dreams bad,” she said.

  He arched an eyebrow. “And?”

  She sighed. “It was really good.”

  “Dirty-dreams-tonight good?” His voice was rumbly and low.

  She nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  He looked very pleased by her answer. “Better-than-jar-pie good?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. She was possibly going to regret telling him this. “Yeah, this was better. Don’t tell Zoe.”

  “Do you have dirty dreams about jar pie, Jane?” he asked.

  His husky voice caused warmth to twist through her stomach and then slide lower.

  “I do,” she admitted.

  His mouth curled up. “Maybe we should combine the kissing and the pie.”

  Her eyes widened before she could stop it. That would be… holy crap she would never recover. “I can’t even imagine that, honestly. I might die.”

  He laughed, his breath warm against her cheek. He cupped her face, running his thumb along her jaw, looking into her eyes.

  “Thank you for letting me kiss you.”

  “I think I kissed you.”

  He nodded. “Thank you for that too.”

  He was thanking her for kissing him? This guy… she honestly didn’t know what to think of him. He was so not what she expected nearly every time they talked.

  “Do me a favor?” she asked.

  “Anything. Except never kiss you again.” He shook his head. “Please don’t ask me that.”

  She should. She really, really should. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “I was going to say, please don’t promote me.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. That was definitely promotion-level kissing.”

  She pushed him back and took a deep breath. She needed some space. She needed to stop thinking about kissing him again—when, where, how long did she have to wait? Could they do it somewhere that would be conducive to taking off clothes? “It really was. I was really good just now,” she said. “I can understand you wanting to reward me. You have to resist.”

  He let her go, tucking his hands into his back pockets, but he was grinning the grin that, honestly, was a huge part of what had led to this kissing thing in the first place.

  “But no promotions,” she said. “I’m serious. I will stop kissing you if you promote me.”

  “I hear you,” he said. He reached past her and opened her car door, holding it for her to get in.

  Jane resisted the urge to kiss him again. She was not going to keep doing that. He’d told her not to ask him to never kiss her again. Okay, she hadn’t asked him that. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t just not do it again.

  “So just expensive gifts, then?” he asked. “Jewelry and stuff. As a ‘reward.’ Since you won’t take a promotion.”

  “Absolutely not. I will pawn it all and pocket the money and stop kissing you.” She slid into the driver’s seat then looked up at him. “I had a nice time tonight.”

  “Ditto,” he said.

  “Thanks for the… pizza.”

  “I’ll… eat pizza… with you any time,” he said, pausing the way she had, making it into a funny, hot euphemism. “And,” he added, “I’ll also eat pizza with you any time.”

  She smiled. So he’d enjoyed just the pizza and conversation too. Yeah, that had been nice. And also a reason she’d kissed him.

  She rolled down her window then pulled the car door closed. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

  “You will.” He grinned. “I’ll have the paperwork for your raise all ready to go. Since you won’t let me promote you or b
uy you things.”

  Jane shook her head. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Go out with me Saturday night.”

  Damn. He was so freaking tempting, and now that she’d kissed him she was really going to have to shore up her defenses. She could not have a fling with the boss. She barely had time to do all the crap she had to do on a regular basis. When would she fit fling-time in anyway? And Dax would be… a lot. He was just a big personality and would be very hard to pigeonhole into a booty-call box.

  “Can’t,” she said. But she paused. She bit her bottom lip. She tried not to say it. But in the end she said, “But you could go out with me Saturday morning.”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t ask what they’d be doing, what time, anything. Just yes. Jane’s heart tripped a little at that.

  “And I’ll let you buy my coffee and muffin at Zoe’s.”

  She’d be at Zoe’s anyway, and if he met her there for coffee it was only kind of a date. For all anyone knew, they’d just both happened to be there at the same time. If she drank coffee and ate pastries with him in the morning, she would not be tempted to spend the night with him. Something she was sure would cross her mind if they went out to dinner or to the bar again. She wouldn’t be even able to spend the day with him. She always went from the bakery to see her dad. Kelsey usually met them there unless she had dance practice or a school trip or something. So Saturday morning coffee and muffins was the safest way to see Dax. It would be in public. It would have a time limit on it, and it would be a less-typical time of day for banging.

  Though the idea of being in bed with Dax at 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning was not the craziest thing she could imagine.

  “Breakfast, and I’m not even waking up with you?” he teased.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. She ignored the jab of jealousy over the thought that he’d probably awakened with and gone to breakfast with plenty of women.

  He nodded. “I’ll be there at ten.”

  “Well, I’ll be there at eight,” she said. Her internal clock was too well set to sleep much past seven. She wished she could sleep in and be leisurely in the morning, linger over her coffee, lie in bed and watch Netflix or read before getting up and at ’em. But she’d been getting up early for too long, and once she was awake her brain wouldn’t stop thinking about all the things she could be getting done if she wasn’t lying in bed.

  “Eight?” He sighed. “You’re a morning person.”

  “Have to be.” And he wasn’t. Big surprise. They were total opposites.

  Except for the fact that they both tried to take care of one of their parents while having issues with the other. And that they both liked and cared about the people who worked at Hot Cakes—she really did believe that Dax cared about them as people after working with them for the past several days. And they both liked pizza. And each other.

  She really did like him. Even though anything long term, other than friendship, would be impossible. So friendship. Yeah, they could do that. They could joke and tease and even kiss… Okay, maybe they shouldn’t kiss.

  “I’ll be there at eight,” he finally said. Then he added, “Maybe eight fifteen.”

  She laughed. “I’ll wait until eight twenty, but I’ve got places to be.”

  “Fine. But I’m going to expect some very good… muffins.”

  Yeah, he absolutely said that with an-inappropriate-for-a-boss-to-use-with-his-employee tone.

  A warm shiver went through her.

  “You show up by eight oh five, and your chances of getting those are much better,” she said. With that same inappropriate tone.

  Though it was true. You had to get to Buttered Up early. There was always a morning crowd even on Saturdays.

  “Duly noted,” he said.

  She could have sworn that along with that amused grin, there was a little bit of affection in his expression.

  Like friends would have looking at one another.

  Friends could be affectionate. And eat pizza together. And spend a Saturday morning together.

  And make out against her car again at the end of the night…

  That would be very friendly.

  She was in a lot of trouble here.

  “You’re a real pain in my ass, Marshall,” Grant said as he came through Dax’s office door the next morning.

  “Missed you too,” Dax said with a grin at the guy who liked to seem perpetually annoyed with them all but who loved Fluke Inc., and the energy and dynamic between the five men who made it up, as much as any of them did.

  Grant Lorre was the oldest of the five partners, a year older than Aiden and Cam and two older than Dax and Ollie. He’d been a business management and econ major at the university when they’d all met. He and Aiden had met at some dorky seminar for business majors and had struck up a conversation that had extended past drinks after the seminar and well into pancakes and coffee the following morning. They’d been fast friends, and when Aiden and Cam had ”discovered”—their word, not his—Dax and Ollie down the hall in the dorm working on their idea for a video game, Grant had gotten looped in.

  Dax annoyed Grant. On purpose. The guy was so fucking serious about everything. Grant thought he was looking out for Dax and Ollie when they went on their crazy trips to conferences and fan meet and greets, but the truth was, Dax and Ollie felt it was their duty to get the guy out of the office, out of his suits, and out of his routine.

  It was thanks to Dax and Ollie that Grant had any interesting stories to tell. They reminded him of that and told him he was welcome, on a regular basis.

  Grant kept a bottle of Tums and one of ibuprofen in his desk drawer. He wrote DAX on the side of the antacids and OLLIE on the side of the painkillers.

  That was fucking funny, and Dax loved Grant’s dry, subtle sense of humor.

  He also loved doing things that made Grant reach for those bottles. Because that meant he’d done something to spice things up for his I-live-by-spreadsheets-and-planners friend.

  Grant didn’t like messes. Literal or figurative. His fucking apartment in Chicago was all sleek lines and polished surfaces. He was a neat freak, a bit of a germaphobe, and took everything seriously.

  Dax loved shaking things up. From surreptitiously rearranging Grant’s tie rack in his closet to calling him at 3 a.m. to come pick him and Ollie up somewhere.

  The fact Grant stuck around and had even considered investing in yet another business with them, told Dax everything he needed to know.

  Grant liked him. In spite of their differences.

  “Grant.” Aiden was clearly surprised to see their partner in Appleby.

  Dax was a little surprised too. He’d called Grant last night—well, this morning, since it had been 2 a.m.—but he’d really thought Grant could handle what he’d proposed via phone and email.

  “’Morning,” Grant greeted Aiden. “You’re on my list too,” he said to Ollie, who was lounging in the blue beanbag.

  “Me?” Ollie sat up a little straighter. Or as straight as you could get in a beanbag. “What I do?”

  “You didn’t talk Dax out of this craziness,” Grant said. “And you let him dial my number at two a.m. We talked about the rules for that.”

  Ollie nodded. “Hospital personnel, law enforcement personnel, or criminals and duct tape have to be involved before we call after midnight.” He looked at Dax. “What did you do?”

  “You weren’t with him?” Grant asked before Dax could respond.

  “No. Are we talking last night?” Ollie narrowed his eyes, studying Dax. “He was out at the bar last night and spent most of his time with a certain sassy, gorgeous redhead.” Ollie leaned forward in the beanbag. “Did you marry her or something?”

  “How did you know I was with Jane last night?” Dax asked, ignoring everything else.

  Ollie shrugged. “Someone told Piper, who told me.”

  “Who told Piper?”

  “I don’t know. But the entire factory was there last night, right?
I mean, it’s not like you were sneaking around. But seriously, did you go to Vegas or something?”

  “Why would I be here right now with you if I’d whisked her off to Vegas and convinced her to marry me?” Dax asked.

  Not that he wouldn’t do that. And they all knew it. It just didn’t make sense that he’d be here now with them if he had.

  “The private plane could have gotten you there and back,” Ollie said.

  “Technically,” Dax agreed. “But that doesn’t take into account the twelve hours straight I would have her naked in a suite at the Waldorf Astoria.”

  “Ah.” Ollie nodded. “That’s true.”

  “So you had nothing to do with the call?” Grant asked Ollie.

  “Nope. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, he…” Grant looked around. “For fuck’s sake, Dax, is there a regular chair anywhere?”

  Dax grinned and crossed to the office door. He ducked around the corner to Aiden’s office, grabbed one of his chairs, and brought it back in for Grant. “Here you go, old man. I forget about your aging back and knees.”

  “Fuck off.” Grant took the chair and pushed it up to join the beanbags.

  “Cappuccino?” Dax asked. “Gummy bears?”

  Grant hated everything about Dax’s office in Chicago, and this one was very much like it. To Grant, coffee, dry erase markers, and leather chairs should all be black.

  “I’m good,” Grant said with an eye roll. “Piper is going to get me a muffin and coffee at the bakery.”

  Ollie perked up. “I want a muffin from Buttered Up.” He shot to his feet and started for the door. “Piper!”

  Piper appeared in the doorway before he was even halfway there. “For God’s sake,” she told him. “I’m not your child or your dog. Stop yelling for me.”

  Dax wished he had a dollar for every time their executive assistant scolded Oliver. Ollie didn’t actually mean anything with the yelling or even the “Get me a muffin” type demands he made. He just didn’t think. He got excited, and as thoughts and ideas were crashing around in his head, they just kind of fell out of his mouth sometimes.