by Gina Gordon
With the way he was looking at her, Liv knew he was wearing down.
“Tell me about her.”
The green of his eyes mingled with the animal hiding behind his dark lashes. “Her eyes are dark, so incredibly dark, but they sparkle when she's aroused.” He brushed light kisses along her jaw. “Her lips are soft.”
She was intoxicated by him, all of him. His scent, his touch, his voice. Never had one man managed to render her utterly defenseless.
He swiped his thumb across her bottom lip and finally leaned closer, pressing his lips against hers. At first softly, then he deepened it. His hands rested near her waist. She could feel the pull of her T-shirt as he fisted it in his hands.
Liv's breath caught not once, or twice, but three times as she tried to inhale. Her mouth was dry. Too dry. She wanted nothing more than to kneel before him, taking his length deep into the back of her throat.
Liv was curious at how far this would go. Here in the bar. On the bar. His mouth nuzzled against one breast as he licked the fabric of her shirt. She gasped.
Without notice, he lifted it, securing it under her arms, and pulled down the bra cups. He took the beer bottle from her hand and rested it against her stomach. Immediately, her nipples hardened. “She has fantastic breasts,” he said between licks and sexy pulls of his teeth against her nipples.
Liv grasped the back of his head as he attacked her right breast. She undulated her hips to grind into him. But what she really wanted was his mouth on her sex. She wanted his soft lips and velvet tongue working their magic. “Jake.”
“This woman is a challenge.” He moved to the next breast and bit the tip of her nipple. A jolt of pain spread through her, exploding in an intense throb she felt through her entire body.
“But I prefer a challenge.” He licked his way up her body and bit down on the curve between her shoulder and neck. Her body responded by arching into his bite, loving the pleasurable pain he gave so freely. “I prefer to chip away at steel doors meant to keep me out. Little”—he licked her neck—“by little”—he sucked on a nipple—“by little.” He flicked his tongue in her belly button. “I always make my way in.”
His lips found hers and they kissed. Chest to chest, their bodies rubbed together. She whimpered and her body spasmed at his touch.
Jake ripped at her jeans, furiously trying to undo the button on the waistband. She lifted her pelvis, allowing him to pull her pants from her body. When one leg was free, he gave up and let the heavy denim dangle from the other leg.
She flung her arms up and knocked over the beer bottle in the process. It clanked on the bar, then she heard the fizz of the liquid as it dripped.
He inhaled deeply against her chest. “I've dreamt of your scent. You smell so good. Like cookies. And this…” He lowered his face. “I've dreamt of it, too.”
He was just about to remove her panties when the obnoxious ring of a cell phone bellowed.
“Let it ring,” she huffed between gasps of pleasure, her arms forcing him closer.
Jake tensed and pulled away.
“No!” Liv grabbed at his body as he left her cold. “They'll call back.”
“I have to get it.” With his head hanging, he reached in his back pocket for his BlackBerry. He looked at the screen as if wanting to confirm the caller before he picked up. His eyes flitted between the screen and Liv, Liv and the screen.
Pick me! Choose me!
With a sigh, he pressed the button on the phone and left her high and dry. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Hello.”
The shriek of a female voice squawked on the other end. She should have known.
“No. It's not a bad time,” he reassured his caller. “I'm on my way.”
Liv couldn't believe what she had just heard. She jumped down from the bar and pushed past him. Sliding her leg back into her jeans, she pulled them up, then hid her breasts from his stare.
“I'm sorry. I…” There were those eyes again. Sincere. But an apology didn't repair the blow to her ego.
“Sorry? We were seconds away from…from having sex…and then you stop to answer your phone.”
“It's important. My—”
“It's okay.” Liv held up a hand to stop his explanation. He didn't owe her one, just like she didn't owe him one earlier. They were doing each other a favor, scratching an itch that needed relief, and with Liv's confusing emotions getting in the way, this interruption was just what they needed. “That's just my hormones talking. You got me all riled up and I have no opportunity for release.”
We're not dating. We're not dating.
She had to keep reminding herself of the fact. She had no right to be mad, sad, frustrated, or any other over the top feeling. He didn't belong to her.
With his phone in his hand, he embraced her. His lips landed softly on her head. “I'm sorry, Liv. But I have to go.” He eased away and looked into her eyes. “But I will see you soon.”
Sometimes, his words were cryptic. Sometimes, behind his superbly hot body and incredibly handsome face, there was something dark that pushed its way to the surface.
The realization that she was trying to decipher his words rather than thinking about her bakery put everything into perspective. “Look, Jake…” There was no way she was going to get through the next two weeks of stress if she had to analyze every move she made with him. “We both have important things going on and maybe we should just focus on that for a while.”
“But what about our date?” He looked genuinely disappointed at the possibility of her saying no. She wouldn't lie, it was a great feeling.
“I'm not saying no, just…give me two weeks.” She sighed. “This is the most important thing I've ever done.” And she wanted to make sure it was done right. “I need to know, at the end of the day, that I gave it my all. No distractions. No—”
“So, I'm distracting.” He grinned and leaned closer.
She smiled. “We can revisit the date.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
Liv walked him to the front door, but before he stepped over the threshold, he turned and leveled her with a heated stare.
“As for release.” He reached for her hand. “I think this finger right here will do the job just fine.” He kissed the tip of her index finger. “And you're going to tell me all about it.” He smiled. “In two weeks.”
Chapter Seven
Liv woke up with the sun in her eyes. She rolled over. “What the—”
Bracing herself, she realized she had no room to roll over. The couch. She didn't remember falling asleep here, but when she spotted the empty beer bottle and book on the coffee table, the memory rushed back.
Sighing, she sat up, swinging her legs to the floor.
The room was just as she had left it. No pillows strewn about, or clothes hanging on lampshades from a bout of maniac sex. No. She woke up this morning not with satisfaction, but with want. Vulnerability. And even more pathetic, disappointment.
She dove into this situation with Jake with her eyes wide open. She was using him. Probably just as much as he was using her. It hadn't worked out. More than once. And it seemed as though even three times wasn't a charm.
For the next fourteen days, she made good on their deal and fell off the grid. Hard at work at the bakery, she did her best to push away thoughts of Jake in between painting, cleaning, and re-arranging.
She rose bright and early Thursday morning fully expecting to start her day on a good note. With the exception of her longing for a certain green-eyed man who haunted her dreams, the bakery was coming along nicely. It was almost complete.
She slipped out of bed and powered up her laptop. She scrolled through her email, but the positive feeling she had started the morning with was crushed when she read an email from her website design company. Apparently the site wouldn't be up and running for opening day as planned. Just one thing to add to the list of things that had gone horribly wrong.
She hung her head. An online presence was crucial. Wi
th no website, it looked as if Facebook and Twitter were going to be her only means of online advertising for the first few weeks. She wouldn't be able to use her brochures or mailings until the website was running. It wasn't very professional to hand out material with an inactive website.
As if that wasn't enough, today was the day Cross decided to pay her a visit.
He worked from the front of the store to the back. He opened every cupboard, pulled out every drawer, and moved every item that wasn't permanently attached to the wall. He tapped his pen on his clipboard and wore the same stone-cold face as the first time she met him. But the way he inspected her premises, Liv had a strange feeling. Something about this man just didn't sit right.
He opened up the grate at the bottom of the showcase in the front of the store and inspected the cooling system. He flicked every switch and turned every knob. The contractors she'd hired turned out to be decent guys and helped her with a lot of the things on the checklist. But while watching Mr. Cross's inspection, she was in desperate need of a drink. Or an entire bottle.
When he stepped into the fridge, she relaxed. She had spent hours scouring that thing. There was no way he could—
“Ms. Crawford. The Code states that all food must be stored six inches from the floor.”
“They are. I measured them myself.”
“They are not.” He snapped his tape measure back into its holder. “They are five inches and twenty millimeters.”
“Five millimeters?” She fisted her hands at her sides, hoping it would prevent her from lunging at the man. “You want me to replace all these units because of five millimeters?”
“Five point four millimeters. And yes, you must always be in compliance, Ms. Crawford.”
You must always be in compliance, Ms. Crawford, she mimicked inside her head.
“Along with your shelving in the fridge not being high enough off the ground, your exterior door isn't weather tight.” He glanced at his clipboard then continued. “Also, your thermostat outside the walk-in fridge seems to be broken, and you don't have soap at your hand washing station.”
Liv wanted to smack his smug face. No, she wanted to stab him with one of her icing spreaders—one of the dull, thick icing spreaders. “I just…I just moved the soap to use it for something else.”
And didn't Nancy mention she didn't need to have a dedicated soap dispenser? An honest mistake. But this? Giving someone a hard time because of five point four millimeters, which probably resulted from the floor sinking, was not right. It couldn't be.
Mr. Cross continued with his search and destroy mission as if looking for something to target, his eyes intent, his posture rigid. She had decided to wait in the storefront area so she didn't torture herself by watching. The bundle of nerves flip-flopping in her stomach was too much to handle.
Instead of focusing on the negative, Liv decided to turn her thoughts to something more positive. Like the state of the storefront. The renovations were complete and the storefront furniture had been delivered. Along the left sidewall, white frames held pictures of her previous work. Underneath sat a long, brown microfiber couch. A second one sat against the front window. Small white tables were placed in front of the couches, and matching microfiber stools sat on the opposite side.
The brown and pink awning bearing her bakery name, Cupcake!, was attached to the brick outside—the bright pink letters could be seen from a few blocks away. All that was left were some small finishing touches and the delivery of her supplies. Flour, sugar, meringue powder—all the things she needed to make her soon-to-be famous cupcakes.
“Ms. Crawford?” The inspector's voice tingled down her spine. Not in a good way.
The pride she felt at admiring her space deflated as soon as she turned. That same feeling of dread crept its way inside.
“I'm going to give you a conditional pass,” he said, scribbling something on his clipboard.
“Conditional? But I went through everything on that list.”
“Yes, but you still have a few minor infractions. Enough that I can't possibly issue you a pass.”
Liv's stomach tightened.
He tore off her inspection sheet. The yellow color of the notice brought tears to her eyes. The color of conditional. The color of failure.
Her stomach churned. “I have to have that on display, don't I?”
He nodded.
What were people going to think when they saw a conditional pass? She wouldn't buy food from a store that had a conditional pass, but maybe now she would, knowing that a conditional pass might not have anything to do with the actual food. It was about petty rules and restrictions.
The jingle of the bell on the front door rang again, but this time it wasn't an inspector. It was Nancy.
“Hello, dear, everything looks—” She paused. “Mr. Cross. How lovely to see you again.”
“Ms. Arbour, always a pleasure.”
“Oh, dear.” Nancy turned to Liv after she'd noticed the yellow paper. “A conditional pass. What happened?”
Liv shrugged. “I thought I followed everything on the list, but I guess it wasn't good enough.”
“Mr. Cross.” Nancy sidled closer, placing her hand on his arm. “Are you sure it's a conditional pass? Isn't there something you could—”
His eyebrow raised in surprise. “I'm afraid not, Ms. Arbour.”
Nancy was actually trying to bribe the guy. As much as Liv appreciated the effort, she had a feeling something like this would get her in even more hot water.
“Nancy, it's fine.” Liv grabbed Nancy's shoulder and pulled her back. She straightened once she had stepped away, then curled her hair around her ears.
“I'll be back in forty-eight hours.” Mr. Cross gave her a stern look. “Any infractions not rectified in that timeframe could result in a fine.” He nodded at Nancy, who gave a little wave of her fingers while he stepped out into the cold winter afternoon.
Bad luck. She was having the worst case of bad luck. No bank loan, no safety net. No safety net, no room for error. And the list of errors was beginning to grow as long as the Toronto Maple Leafs' streak of not making the playoffs.
“It's just a rough start,” Nancy said. “You can make the changes and then move on.” She sidled closer and pulled Liv in for a hug.
That's what everyone was saying. Austin, Patti, and now Nancy. Regroup and move on. It sounded so simple, but when you were in the middle of your own living nightmare, moving on wasn't so easy.
Nancy had walked off to the opposite end of the storefront, her hands gliding over the microfiber furniture. Come to think of it, she hadn't remembered telling Nancy that she would be finished with the renovations today. Her presence was unexpected. And what perfect timing she had. She didn't like the embarrassment running between them. Or maybe it was just Liv feeling that way. Nancy, as usual, smiled brightly.
“What are you doing here, Nancy?”
“I knew you were making excellent progress. I wanted to see how beautiful you made this place.”
“I'm great. Looks like I still have some work ahead of me.” Thanks to Mr. Cross and that enormous stick up his ass.
“Is there anything you need me to do?”
She could have asked Nancy to do a million things throughout this process, but she hadn't. She wanted to do this all on her own. But maybe Jake was right. Maybe asking for help didn't make her look weak. And maybe people just wanted to help you out of the kindness of their heart. Not because they wanted something in return.
“Actually, Nancy. I was wondering if I could use your fax machine. I need to send in the copy for a newspaper ad I took out next week.”
“I can do that for you. Just give me the number and I will fax it away within the hour.”
“You wouldn't mind?” Of course she didn't mind.
“Nonsense. Just make sure it's all correct.” She winked.
“I checked it last night. It's ready to go.” With a smile, she ran to her office and pulled out the paper. “Here is the f
ax number. All you have to do is send it through. I've made a cover letter and everything.”
Nancy gave her a reassuring smile. “I have one stop to make first, and then I will get it done.”
“Thank you.”
Her chest swelled. She had no idea why she was so lucky to have such supportive family and friends.
“Anything for you.” Nancy walked toward the door, but not before lightly resting her hand on Liv's shoulder. “If you need me, I'm just a phone call away.”
Just as Nancy walked through the front door, someone else entered.
“Ms. Crawford?”
“I'm Olivia Crawford.” She stuck out her hand, but the man didn't take it. Instead, he offered her his business card. She was all too familiar with that move.
“Ben Barnes with the City of Toronto. I'm a building inspector, here to do a routine walkthrough.”
“Go for it.” She threw her arms in the air. Why not add something else to the list? “Let me know if you need me.”
Ben did his own thing. He didn't give her the heebie-jeebies like Cross. He was casual, relaxed, and he seemed easy-going.
Ben pointed to the locked door. “Ms. Crawford, do you know what's down here?”
“It goes down to the basement. I have a key.” She ran into the office and grabbed the set of keys her landlord, Mr. Luko, had left her. She opened the door for Ben and he trudged downstairs. “I'll be in the front if you need me,” she hollered.
He nodded and disappeared to the left at the bottom of the stairs.
Two minutes later, she heard four words that made her stomach clench. “I have bad news.”
Ben stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding open the curtain. “The City has really cracked down on the condition of wiring, and the stuff in your basement is going to have to be replaced.”
“My landlord assured me that everything is safe.”
“It may be safe, but the wiring is way out of date. I'm surprised you could even find insurance for this place.”
