So if that wasn’t it, maybe he was trying to set her up with his friend. He seemed to genuinely like the guy. She hadn’t ever seen any pictures of Jacob, but she envisioned him as tall, muscular, handsome, and cocky, kind of like the military heroes in all the latest movies. Scott Eastwood sprang into her mind. Yeah, kinda like that. Which meant he was totally out of her league. Guys like that didn’t go for extremely curvy—okay, who was she kidding? Overweight— chicks who were messy all day. Well, her baked goods really did bring the boys to the yard. Her muffins, cakes and cookies were the best in town, and soon she would need a bigger store. She’d probably have to move. But right now, she was at that fun place where she had more work than she could do, but not quite enough to afford hiring someone. But soon.
The plastic, red box of gummy worms sat on the far counter. Furrowing her brow, she took them over to the baking island and tried to remember when she had moved them. But she really hadn’t been paying attention this morning. Maybe she set them there when she was talking to Chance? She really needed to start paying better attention, or she’d lose her keys again. Last week, she had lost her whole ring of keys, including the ones to her bakery and her apartment, and had panicked. But she finally found them lying next to the dumpster out back. They must have fallen out of her pocket when she had taken the garbage out the night before. Well, she would start paying better attention to her surroundings.
Her thoughts drifted to the man Chance was trying to send her way. Chance said he was the leader of his squad, so that meant methodical, prepared, calculating, assessing. He probably had contingencies for his contingencies. And being a leader of a team of men who sometimes went into dangerous situations, he probably didn’t laugh much. He most likely buried whatever sense of humor he had when he received his next rank. A sexy, stern, brooding soldier would make her work environment a lot more interesting. Eye candy while she baked. He probably wouldn’t make decent conversation, and wouldn’t share her joy of stupid, old movies, but hey, eye candy still counted for something. And she was a bit lonely.
She’d have to try to talk to herself a bit less while he was there. Yes, she had named her baking helpers. The oven was Zoot. The very wicked, evil, naughty Zoot, when she burned her favorite oatmeal cookies. Her favorite icing spatula was Elaine. Her favorite cake pan was Fairy Godmother—from Ella Enchanted, not Cinderella. And the sink was Inigo. “You dirtied all the dishes in the kitchen. Prepare to die!” Okay, she’d tone it back on the talking out loud. Dang it, if Chance was trying to set her up, she was going to have words for him when they next spoke. She didn’t need a pity date from a hottie, awesome Army dude, who would set her panties on fire, and then leave the scene shortly after.
She stared at the bubbles frothing around Inigo, and reached in and grabbed a few of the cool, gooey worms from her gummy worm box. Next week, she’d get them out onto the counter sooner. The cupcake was moving in the corner of her field of vision. She looked at the teeming brown mass of wrigglers on her glorious creation, at the same time her right hand registered the cool, slimy movement.
Worms!
She shrieked and knocked the box to the floor. Real worms were burrowing into her dirt and worms cupcake, and the floor was now squirming with what she had thought was her cupcake toppings. She shuddered and flicked the last grubby, little guy off her wrist, and he landed squarely onto a glop of chocolate frosting.
Here comes the Boom shrilled from her cell phone, and she wrenched it up to her ear. “Yes, okay. Fine! He can stay for a week in exchange for some help around the shop.” Jacob could do the yucky cleaning up while she baked. It could work. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just an issue with my um, worms.” She gingerly stepped over the tiny wrigglers and listened to Chance explain when the guy was coming, he wouldn’t be in the way, yadda yadda, and that he would text her a pic of his buddy, so she wouldn’t let the wrong guy in. Right, because she was such an idiot, she would just open her door for the first cute guy who looked like an Army dude, and just hand him a key to her place, without confirming, something like, yeah, his name! She was about to tell her dorky brother to lighten up and stop coddling her when her foot squished through the puddle of yellow she had forgotten from earlier, and she yipped and landed flat on her back.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she groaned and rolled over to sit next to the meringue, still watching her wriggling floor. “Meringue and worms are trying to kill me. But I’ll live.”
“Just eat it, and you’ll feel better.”
Ugh, her stomach rolled. Not gonna happen. “Yeah, okay, thanks. So when is he coming?”
“He should be there before eleven. I’ll send you a pic.”
She thanked him, told him she loved him and hung up. Next up, worm removal, and making a new batch of cupcakes. She couldn’t sell dirt and worm cupcakes to customers. At least not this kind.
And then she was heading to Papa Gio’s for chicken parmesan. A nice, quiet meal before her new guest arrived sounded like the perfect way to wind down after her stressful day.
Chapter 2
Jacob parked his truck in the small parking lot in the back of the bakery and got out to stretch his legs. He’d made pretty good time and was able to take in the area as the last remnants of sunlight faded behind the town hall on the other end. It was quaint, cute, the kind of town he could picture walking down the sidewalk with a wife on one arm, while his kids ran ahead asking for ice cream. Yeah, someday, but not yet. He hadn’t met the future mother of his ice cream-begging children yet.
His cell phone dinged with a message.
You there yet?
He replied - Just got here. Will call w info in am
K
He looked back through at his other missed messages. Chance’s confirmation of Cherry’s apartment number and her phone number. Then, a few more pics of her. Her strawberry-colored curls framed her face, showcasing her emerald eyes and full, red lips. He couldn’t wait to match her voice with her face and finally see her for real. Glancing around one last time, he turned back toward the bakery. It was time to meet his new roommate, not make an ass out of himself, and start his undercover mission slash vacation.
The quiet night was interrupted by the screech of tires, and his body reacted to the potential threat. He bolted the half-dozen steps to the crosswalk and yanked the woman out of the street, just as a white, beat-up Ford POS barreled past them, swerving, and just barely missing the trash cans on the other side of the street. His move would have worked well, if she hadn’t dove at the last second.
They went flying through the air, and he wrapped his arms around her, and maneuvered his body so she landed on top of him. He landed on his back on the sidewalk with a grunt. But the woman was safe.
And pissed off. She shoved at him, hard, and wriggled off him with a loud curse. “What the hell, Lancelot? I had that under control. I was jumping out of the way of that stupid ass. If you hadn’t tried to play hero, we wouldn’t both be sprawled out together on a sidewalk on Main Street.”
He noticed her purse lying open on the ground next to them, and reached for it, holding his temper in check. Unfortunately, she reached for it at the same time, and his forehead met hers with a loud crack. Damn!
“I’ve got it.” Her back was turned, but he could read the anger and frustration in her voice.
“Okay, Curly, you do that. I’m going to stay right here until you’re upright. I’ve been pummeled enough for the night. Just don’t poke me in the eyes, and we’re good.” He must have gotten his head knocked harder than he thought. His tired brain was taking him into Three Stooges territory. He got a good glimpse of her ass when she bent over to get the rest of her stuff, her long, red curls in disarray around her face. What a gorgeous ass it was. Perfect, round, filling out her black leggings in a way that made his cock surge to life. Nope, no head injury. But he was getting a bit uncomfortable in his jeans.
“I guess that makes you Larry.”
“Nah, I’m Moe, the smart
one,” he quipped and felt his lips pulling up into a smile.
“Well, thank you for helping me save myself.” She finally stood straight and turned toward him. “Sorry, I yelled at you and beat you up, I’m—” Her outstretched hand wavered when they made eye contact. “Holy crap, Jacob?”
He laughed and pulled himself to his feet and took her much smaller hand in his. “That’s quite a name you got there, Holycrapjacob.”
Cherry Donovan’s melodic giggle sent a shiver down his spine, and her eyes danced with humor as she moved her body sideways while she shook his hand. “I don’t want to take any more chances on getting hurt while I’m introducing myself. So, you’re Jacob. Chance told me all about you. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Cherry.” He had to force himself to get back on task, and stop gazing into her beautiful eyes. “Are you all right? Do you want to call the cops? I didn’t get the plate, but can give a description of the car.”
“No, it’s okay. It was probably a stupid college kid.” She tugged the purse firmly over her shoulder and gave him a follow me crook of her fingers. “Let’s get you settled into your room.”
He grabbed his duffel from the back of his truck, and started up the stairs. Her front door opened easily before she had a chance to unlock it, and he pushed her to the side. “Do you always leave your door unlocked?”
Her eyes blazed. “No. I must have turned the key too quickly on my rush out this morning, and maybe it didn’t lock.”
“You stay right here while I go check it out.” He didn't give her a chance to reply before he strode in, and quickly checked all the rooms. The soft squeak of a tennis shoe behind him alerted him to her presence. “I told you to wait outside until I cleared the area.”
“I have mace, and have taken enough self-defense classes to defend myself, you big lug.” She glared at him, and showed off her commercial grade pepper spray, probably better utilized to clear sinuses than stop an attacker.
But he wasn't going to get into a fight with her on his first night there. “Are you sure nothing was taken?”
She shook her head. “Laptop, TV, DVD player, everything is right where I left it.”
“All right, the area’s clear.”
“Thank you Sergeant Do Right.” She rolled her eyes and closed and locked the front door. “Now come on, and I’ll give you a proper tour.”
He followed the woman from his dreams through her apartment. Shit. Dreams were nothing compared to Cherry in real life. Now that they were inside, he could get a better look at her features. Plump, red lips that she nibbled on. It seemed to be a nervous reaction, so he hunched down a bit, trying to make himself a bit less intimidating. At six foot five, he was used to using his body to scare people. But the way she kept nibbling on her bottom lip and wiggling her nose while a tinge of pink settled across her cheeks was getting him closer to just saying fuck the mission. He wanted nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder, rip off her clothes, lay her on her bed, and bury himself so deep in her, that they would both ache in the morning. Yeah, that wasn't going to cut it. Not on this mission. Not with this partner.
He hunched a bit more, and followed her as she gave him the quick tour of her apartment and the lock-off additional bedroom on the other side of the living room. Her ass wiggled with each step she took, and he cursed his libido, promising himself a very torturous cold shower later. The woman didn’t seem to know it, but she was a walking, talking, joking sex pill. The way her yoga pants sculpted every part of her lower body, her hips, her thighs, her ass. Her Star Wars t-shirt stretched over her amazing breasts. What kind of bra did she wear underneath? She didn’t strike him as the lacy, frilly kind of woman. But the way her nipples peeked out from beneath the charcoal-colored cotton shirt, and their firm, full roundness, also meant she wasn't wearing the binding type of exercise bras that most of the women in his company wore either. There were only ten women in his company on base. They were fit, athletic, with toned muscles that most of his buddies all fawned over.
But he wasn’t called to the overly fit and active women. He preferred his women with curves. Enough that he could dig his hands into and grip tightly while he pummeled her with his cock. The kind that wouldn’t get hurt if he put some of his weight on her while fucking her hard. The kind of woman that was standing in front of him, with an eyebrow raised as if waiting for an answer. But he didn’t have one, because he hadn’t been listening, instead choosing to undress her in his mind, and map out all the different locations in this apartment that he could take her, and how. Her room: on her back, spread eagle while he licked her entire body. The shower: held up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his hips while he took her hard and fast. The kitchen: bent over the counter so he could spank her ass and then fuck her from behind. The living room: on the floor on all fours. His room: slow lovemaking, after which he would hold her in his arms while they both slept. He had missed a few rooms. The hall?
Shit, she was still looking at him. What was this woman doing to him? He’d never felt this attracted to a woman before, and it was killing him. His best friend would literally have his head. And his cock was in so much agony, he needed to get out of here ASAP.
“Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What’d I miss?”
She grinned. “Right after I asked if you wanted something to drink, you mentioned us missing the hall. What’d we miss in the hall?”
Damn. “Nothing. A beer sounds great if you have it.”
Chapter 3
Cherry groaned and pulled the sheets up over her head. Then the sheets pulled off her poor feet, leaving them in the freezing air. Agh. Stupid sheets. Stupid bed. She curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Much better.
Why the heck did her throat feel so parched, and her body feel like it had been rolled over by Monday’s delivery guy’s hand truck? Oh. Her bottom hurt when she kicked her heels up against it. What the heck?
She bolted out of the bed, and yanked down her jammie pants, and bent over in front of the mirror. A dull, red outline of something on her right bottom cheek, and her left side still bore the residual remnants of a very faded pink partial handprint. Oh my God. Why was her ass looking just shy of the almost well-spanked side?
She gingerly felt the curves of her bottom and tried to remember last night. Had she gotten drunk? No. She’d only had one glass of wine. She wasn’t a lush by any means, but she could sure as heck handle more than one drink without going topsy turvy. She mentally ran through her evening. Jumped out of the way from an idiot driver, dropped her purse, came face to face with the hottest guy she’d ever seen—in real life, anyway. He turned out to be Chance’s buddy from the Army. She took him up to her place and showed him around, all the while babbling like an idiot because she kept thinking about making love to him. I mean, seriously, the guy was uber-sexy. That little cleft in his chin, the scar over his eyebrow, that sexy way he waggled said eyebrows and oh my Lord, that smile. That sexy as sin, I am the big bad wolf, and like to eat bad, little girls kind of smile that had her panties wet within a minute of him coming into her apartment.
He had kinda bugged her at first. He had so many of Chance’s knight in shining armor things going on. Maybe that was a military thing? She had been pissed at first when she went on that lovely little tumble with him onto Main Street. Yeah, a part of her was ticked because it was just another moment feeding the Cherry can’t take care of herself stuff Chance still spouted as if gospel. But mostly, she was ticked at herself. Maybe she should have been paying closer attention while walking through the crosswalk, instead of daydreaming about a hot soldier coming to live with her for a week to ten days. And her reaction to him had totally been over the top.
She’d become a blathering, no inner monologue, sex-crazed female who couldn’t stop the perpetual pink color on her cheeks. She thanked her maternal grandmother’s Irish heritage for that one. Okay, so after the tour, she offered him a drink, and Jacob kept pissing her off with littl
e things. So maybe she chugged down her glass of merlot a little faster than she normally would have. Those damn little things that she hated. Like when he had to personally check out her apartment, or when he reached up and pulled down the wine glass from the top shelf. He had popped her on the bottom, and stopped her from climbing up onto the counter to get them. She hated that. Well, maybe not hated. She may have kind of liked it, too. But she hated how conflicted it had made her. And then Jacob had pulled out her chair for her. Once again, the whole love/hate thing. Maybe she could have accepted it as a gentlemanly thing, if she hadn't grown up her whole life having her older brother dote on her as if she were an invalid.
Yes, Chance had always been there for her growing up. Yes, he had knocked Billy Phelps’ front tooth out when he called her fat on the school bus. And he’d even broken up with his girlfriend the night of the junior prom because the bi-otch had called Cherry too chubby to ever get her hopes up to go to prom unless she went as the mascot. And while this was all annoyingly everyday big-brother stuff, she didn't need it from another man. Definitely not a man who made her heart beat a million times a minute, and her tummy whirl like on a roller coaster. Oh God, she hoped she hadn't puked in front of him last night.
As much as she was annoyed and conflicted by his reactions to her, she was completely attracted to him. Like more attracted to him than any man she had ever met. She couldn't remember their exact conversation, but she did remember laughing a lot. And he had laughed too. She wished she hadn’t gotten so drunk. Now she couldn’t remember what he was really like, or what made him smile, or what his voice sounded like when he laughed.
A dull ache in her posterior reminded her there was something else she was forgetting from last night. That asshole!
Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 10
