by Ann Cory
Tiffany nodded. She loathed shopping and avoided the mall unless she had no other choice. Which after the underwear situation this morning, she was going to have to go shopping soon.
A long silence followed that made things awkward. If only Marcus and Shane would stop by. They’d put her right at ease.
“So,” she started, not sure what else to say.
Jordan seemed to get the hint. “Right. Why I’m here. I wondered if you wanted to go shopping with me.”
Her jaw almost dropped off from opening it so wide. “Me?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Again there was the lack of any kind of emotion. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to go shopping in all the time I’ve known you. I’m flattered.”
Jordan waved her hand. “Most people are.”
She ignored the diva remark. Nothing had changed since graduation. Jordan would always be stuck on herself. While the invite gave her a small boost, she couldn’t fathom the thought of doing anything with the pampered princess for longer than five minutes. The visit already felt too long. They had nothing in common.
“So, did you want to go?”
Tiffany tried to think of a polite way to decline, but decided the truth worked better. “Much as I’d like to, I can’t. I sort of have a big day tomorrow and need to prepare for it.”
“Sounds stressful.”
“Yes and no. Tomorrow will be stressful. I’m hoping today will be fun.”
Jordan yawned and gave her a look of disinterest. “What are your plans?”
She considered making up a story to sound more important but decided that was immature. She was twenty-five, not fourteen. Big difference. Though around Jordan she reverted back to a fourteen-year-old mentality because it put them on an even playing field.
“I just have some stuff to do.”
“Like what?”
She sighed. Jordan wasn’t the person to confide anything personal in, but she’d find out sooner or later if the committee gave their approval.
“Do you remember when I talked about opening my own shop one day?”
Jordan shrugged. “I guess. No. Not really.”
Funny considering she mentioned it at least half a dozen times every week for the whole of high school. “Well, I’m finally doing it. Or at least I’m in the stages of making it happen.”
“What kind of shop?” A small pique of interest dotted her face.
“I want to open my own smoothie bar. Now that I’ve finished my college courses in business, I have everything I need to get started. I have the location picked out, and today I’m going to narrow down the recipes I’ve created to the top five.”
Jordan wrinkled her nose. “A smoothie bar? You mean like Starbucks only with juices and sorbet?”
“Yeah. It’s healthier than ice cream, coffee drinks, and sodas.”
“And it’s all the rage?”
“Mm hmm. I mean, I don’t know to what extent, but they’re in demand.” Tiffany had never been one to follow fads and didn’t expect to ever change.
“And you’re going to open your own shop?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t help but smile with pride.
“Shoot. I could do that. How hard can it be?”
Leave it to Jordan to make a thoughtless crack. “Well, I mean you could, but there’s a lot that goes into it,” she explained. “Unless you want to buy an established chain like Jamba Juice. But this is my own stuff. My own labels. A place started up and run by me.”
Jordan clasped both her hands to her chest. “I could totally do that. I can just see the cutest little uniforms and hats. And with my parents owning the country club, they’d have a million connections.”
“A business degree is helpful too,” Tiffany added dryly.
The blonde snorted. “Those are so nineties. Money is all anyone needs to do whatever they want. A smoothie bar is a fantastic idea. I’m totally jazzed about it. Thanks a bunch for cheering me up.”
She jumped up from the couch and tossed the magazine on the coffee table. “Sorry you can’t come with me, but I should get going so I don’t miss the sales. See ya around.”
Her throat went all cottony. “Yep, see ya.”
She watched the door close and tried to figure out what the hell just happened. In less than ten minutes, the cloud she’d been floating around on all morning had turned black and poured rain on her parade. How nice that Jordan was cheered up when now she was left in a foul mood. And here she didn’t think anything could ruin her day. Had she known the diva would stop by, she might have gotten a head’s up. Jordan was like the Paris Hilton of the Pacific Northwest. Spoiled. Filthy rich. Never kept a job for long. Everything was a phase or a passing fancy with her. No goals or aspirations.
Ugh. She wanted to punch something. Or break something. Or…
She stomped into the kitchen and pressed a series of buttons on the empty blender. Loud as possible, she screamed as the blade made a hideous grinding noise. She pictured Jordan’s perfectly polished acrylic nails broken off and chopped up into tiny little bits.
When she didn’t have the strength to scream anymore, she released the button, only to hear the sound of deep husky laughter. Kill me now, she thought to herself.
Her face blazed with heat. What perfect timing. She turned around slow to see Shane and Marcus, wearing tight jeans and matching we-caught-you-being-a-dork smiles.
Timing was everything.
Embarrassment aside, a deep sensual hunger rushed through her body. Shane looked his usual drop dead gorgeous self. The blue of his shirt brought out the steel blue of his eyes. A light layer of stubble dusted his chiseled face. And his full lips were set in their usual brooding manner. Brooding, yet seductive. It reminded her of the old Hollywood greats Cary Grant, Clark Gable, and George Peppard. Classic, clean, and swoon worthy. She’d dreamed of running her fingers through his dark wavy hair.
Her gaze swept downward to the fit of his jeans against his thick thighs. Her insides shuddered for a brief second as she glimpsed his groin. The only thing better on him was a pair of loose shorts to show off his soccer-carved calves. He’d been the best player on the soccer team, taking their school to a number of championship games.
Then there was Marcus, every bit as handsome with his thick brows and lashes, hazel eyes, squared face and firm jaw. His black hair hung long and always had that just washed look. He stood an inch taller than Shane and had a slightly leaner build. His jeans looked painted on and his shirt lay open to the third button giving her a mouthwatering peek at his smooth chest. A silver chain hung around his neck and showed off a deep golden tan. His lips were thin and she imagined very kissable.
If she had any kind of courage, she’d wrestle them both to the ground and force her tongue in their mouths.
She’d been crushing on them since the tenth grade when their hotness level reached scorching. They went to football games together and hung out at all the same parties, but so did a ton of other girls. Tiffany knew she couldn’t compare and gave up trying. Years later, the fire for them still burned, but she knew nothing serious would ever happen. They were friends, and friends didn’t act on impulse.
She swallowed down her humiliation and walked out from behind the counter. “Uh, morning, boys.”
Marcus managed to smile even bigger. He would no doubt milk the moment for all it was worth.
“Morning yourself. We did knock, in case you were wondering, but figured you couldn’t hear over the blender. So we let ourselves in.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m curious to know where the sick and dying animal I heard ran off to.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh very funny. You’re such a riot. I happened to be venting.”
Shane folded his arms. “What would get you riled up on a day like today?”
“Jordan Philips stopped by.” She half expected a few notes from a sinister sounding pipe organ to play right then.
Marcus crinkled his nose. “So that’s what that smell w
as.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s mean. I’m not all that fond of her, but that’s just mean.”
He chuckled. “No, you didn’t let me finish. When we walked up, it smelled like a perfume store exploded. I almost choked to death because of it. Nasty stuff.”
Her face got warm again. “Oh.”
Shane gave her a lop-sided grin and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “What did miss fancy pants do to make you mad?”
She almost missed the question, staring at the way his hand placement raised his shirt enough for her to check out his low-slung jeans. Her gaze followed the sinewy muscles that tapered off to right where the waistband dipped. “Who did what?”
His forehead creased. “Jordan. She pissed you off. I wondered what she did.”
“Right, right.” Boy, it sure got warm in the room fast.
She proceeded to tell them what happened and ended up mad about it all over again.
Marcus stepped forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her legs went rubbery. “Look, it’s a phase. Princess will forget all about it in a few hours, if she hasn’t already. Don’t let her get to you.”
Doubt knotted her stomach. “What if she opens a store? People will flock to hers before mine.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she has personality and charisma. Plus, she has connections. Her parents own the country club.”
“And you have brains, beauty, and a strong business sense,” Marcus continued. “You’ll build up a loyal clientele in no time. Don’t you have more important things to worry about than what she’s going to do? There’s fruit waiting to be crushed and that other word I always forget.”
“Pureed,” she finished. The tension from her shoulders started to dissipate. They were right. She did have more important things to do and decided to not waste any more energy on what’s her name.
“Thanks guys. I needed that pep talk. I haven’t felt this unsure of myself in a long time.”
Tiffany walked into the kitchen and brought out some containers. “I thought you might be hungry, so while I start mixing up the first smoothie, help yourselves to fresh muffins and scones. I baked them last night before I went to bed.”
Marcus took a muffin and inhaled. “Smells delicious. I can see this becoming a new Sunday ritual.”
“I’m up for it,” Shane said and selected a scone. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It has a certain ring to it.”
She did like how it sounded. She liked breakfast on Tiffany even more. “Oh sure, I do all the work while you guys sit around and eat the goods. I don’t think so.” Or eat her. The thought of their mouths between her thighs made her pulse race.
“Nah, we’d help so you didn’t have to do all the work. I can pour a mean glass of orange juice.”
Marcus raised a finger. “I’m a pro with the toaster.”
“Actually, he is,” confirmed Shane. “You haven’t had toast until you’ve tasted his.”
She snickered at their adolescent commentary and turned her attention to the first recipe. Tiffany took the paper she’d written her new idea on from out of her pocket, unfolded it, and smoothed it out along the counter. She measured a cup of soymilk, a third cup of honey, and added a whole banana. Shane snatched the peel from the counter and put it under his arm. She wrinkled her brow but didn’t want to ask. It was Shane.
As she added the rest of the ingredients, she checked off each item. Satisfied, she started the blender. A minute later she stopped to check the consistency. Light and frothy. The smell alone made her think of tropical islands and cabana boys. Tiffany grabbed a pencil and wrote Banana Cabana at the top. She smiled. It was the perfect name for her smoothie.
“Okay guys, the first one’s up.”
“You can say that again,” commented Shane.
Drinks in hand, she came out to the kitchen nook and almost dropped the glasses. Shane stood a foot away, his pants down around his ankles, with the banana peel he’d swiped turned upside down and draped over his cock. Which looked to be in the erect position. Her gaze lingered longer than it should have and she felt a stir between her thighs.
She caught herself with her jaw open and quickly closed it.
“Hey, I saw that.”
She really hoped he hadn’t. “What?”
“I saw you staring,” Shane quipped. “You were interested. Beyond friendly-type interested.”
Tiffany set the drinks down before they slipped from her now sweaty hands. “I was not.”
“You stared. Your eyes got all wide and your face turned splotchy.”
She covered her cheeks and felt the heat radiating from them.
“Uh-uh. I wasn’t staring at you. I only glanced at the peel. Not your, um—just the peel.”
“Not my what? Can’t say the word,” he challenged.
Did he think her six years old? “Sure I can. I’m not a prude.”
“Then say the word.”
Marcus walked out from the bathroom in time to get caught up. “What can’t she say? —hey, that’s a good look for you, man.”
“Thanks, I’m fond of it myself. Tiffany here is afraid to say cock.”
“Why can’t you say cock?”
Great, now she had both of them to contend with. “I can say it, but I don’t want to. And here I had claimed Jordan the immature one.”
“Oh, come on,” Shane goaded. “Say it.”
“No.” For emphasis, she jutted out her chin.
“We won’t test your smoothies if you don’t,” Shane threatened, then winked at his friend.
“Are you serious?” She looked from one to the other, her patience wearing thin. “You know how much this means to me.”
“This can all be resolved with a single word,” Marcus reasoned.
Tiffany crossed her arms. “You guys can be such jerks. Fine. Cock. You happy?”
“You’re sexy when you say cock.”
She glared at Shane since he was the one who started the juvenile antics. “Can we get back to the smoothies, please?”
“I guess so. You did say cock.” He looked to Marcus. “She did say cock.”
“She even said it like a lady,” his friend added.
She groaned and handed them the glasses. “If you two could shut your mugs long enough, I’d appreciate your input. Some of us have our futures on the line here.”
Tiffany couldn’t help but watch as they tilted the glasses up to their sensual lips. She knew of a creamy treat they could have anytime they wanted. Anytime and anywhere.
“This is good,” Shane gushed. “Is it new?”
“Yep, dreamt it up last night.”
“I get a taste of a spice I can’t place.”
“That would be nutmeg.”
“Subtle. I like it. I’ve had a few smoothies before, but this is award winning. Beats the lousy protein shakes I started on a couple weeks ago. Chalk isn’t my flavor of choice.”
Marcus finished downing his smoothie and wiped his upper lip. “I could drink this stuff all day. Well done.”
She beamed. “You’re not just saying so to make me feel good?”
They both shook their heads.
“Okay, good. I’m going to start on the next one. Is it possible for you two to behave?”
They gave her puppy dog eyes and then busted up laughing.
She watched as Shane pulled up his jeans but looked away before he discarded the banana peel. What was up with him, besides the obvious? And what was going on with the reoccurring banana theme? First her dream and then Shane. Was it a sign? So far the day had gotten off to a very strange start.
Returning to the kitchen, Tiffany tried to get her focus back and dumped fresh blueberries and frozen acai pulp in the blender. Her gaze stole over the boys. They were busy munching on muffins and whispering to one another. Were they talking about her? If so, what about?
Concentrate, dammit, she ordered herself.
She measured out a tablespoon of honey, let t
he golden liquid drip into the blender, and pushed the mix button. Berries and juice shot up and splattered all over the counter, floor, and her.
Suddenly the whole concept of pushing the off button became too much of a stretch for her brain. All she could do was scream, “No, oh shit, no! Help me!”
Shane ran in and unplugged the blender. The colorful explosion stopped, and she was left with one hell of a mess.
“You okay,” he asked.
She could tell by his sunken cheeks that he was biting them to keep himself from laughing. “No, I’m not actually. I forgot to put the damn lid on the blender, and I blame you.”
Shane blinked his big blue eyes. “Me? How is it my fault?”
“Well, it wasn’t my fault,” Marcus offered up. “I was nowhere near you at the time.”
“Dude, I was sitting right next to you. So not my fault either.”
She sighed. “Just forget it.” How could she explain without embarrassing herself further? “I don’t know how it’s your fault, but it sounds good to me. Now, if you’d get out of the kitchen, I have a mess to clean up.”
Marcus grabbed a cloth. “We’ll help.”
“No, never mind. I’ve got it.” Here she wanted everything to be perfect and it all turned into a disaster. Who was she kidding? She was in way over her head with the whole smoothie bar plan. “You know what, guys, this was a mistake.”
Shane frowned. “Why? Because you forgot to put the lid on? Big ass deal.”
How could he be so carefree about her longtime dream? “Well, it is to me. If I can’t remember something simple like a lid on a blender, how can anyone expect I’ll run a successful business? How can I for that matter?”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. Accidents happen.”
“It could’ve been avoided. I wasn’t paying attention,” she grumbled. “My mind was on other things.”
“Oh yeah?” Shane moved in close. “What were you thinking about?”
Marcus came up on her other side. “What’s got you so distracted?”
She swallowed hard. “N-nothing.” This wasn’t her first time being in the middle of them, but it was a first for being this close.
“I’ll tell you what’s distracting.” Shane’s voice dropped low and seductive. “Seeing this juice running down your skin.” He ran his finger along her collarbone, scraped up a little juice, and put it in his mouth. “Mm. Now this has to be my favorite yet. Tasty Tiffany. That’s a good name for a smoothie. Or Tantalizing Tiffany. You should try it, man.”
