Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  Each episode of Baking Masters has two rounds and the tasks become significantly more difficult in the second half. It’s how we separate the amateurs from the real talent. Today, we challenged our remaining contestants to make gluten-free cupcakes, and they’re required to incorporate beets into their recipe. By the panicked look on their faces, I’m guessing two of them have never worked with wheat flour alternatives, so this should be interesting. Unfortunately for them, the gluten-free fad doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, especially not in L.A. Hell, you could probably rob a bank with a damn bagel in this town.

  I nod toward the woman who seems to be struggling the most. “I’m sort of afraid to taste hers.”

  Ethan barks out a laugh. “I’m fucking terrified. But that’s why they pay us the big bucks, right?”

  “Right.” I smirk. “I’ll probably be ready for a drink afterwards, too. Maybe if I consume enough, my brain will purge the awful taste from my memory.”

  He bumps his shoulder into mine. “It’s settled, then. We’re getting shitfaced as soon as we get out of here.”

  I smile. “Deal.”

  Two hours later, Ethan and I are thoroughly buzzed, sitting in a little dive bar in West Hollywood. Swanky places aren’t really my thing; I’d much prefer a darkened room with a couple of pool tables. When I mentioned this to Ethan, he said he knew just the place. I’ve gotta give it to him—the man certainly delivered. The California sun is shining brightly outside, but the lighting in here is so dim, you can barely make out people’s faces.

  “So...you come here often?” I ask.

  “Isn’t that my line?” he laughs.

  “Wiseass.” I roll my eyes.

  He takes a lengthy sip of whiskey. “I meet some buddies here a few times per month. It’s a good place to go when I want to avoid recognition.”

  “Ah, the life of a superstar,” I tease.

  Ethan chuckles. “I’m not that big of a star.”

  I scoff. “Please. I’m not that big of a star. You? Not so much.”

  Sure, I’m occasionally recognized by a fan of my show, but my celebrity status is nowhere near Ethan’s. The man looks like a freaking model so he’s bound to draw attention regardless, but his face is definitely recognizable.

  At only thirty-three, he’s hosted four insanely popular shows, has published several bestselling cookbooks, opened bakeries on the Las Vegas Strip and in Times Square, and has made countless appearances on talk shows. Not to mention the fact that he’s usually linked to some starlet. Ethan Baldwin is undoubtedly a household name.

  He winks. “You’ll get there, Gabbie. The camera fucking loves you and your ratings are always through the roof. It’s only a matter of time before the rest follows.”

  My eyebrows pinch together. “I’m not sure if I’d want that.”

  Ethan tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  I gesture to him. “The fame. Being a paparazzi magnet holds no appeal for me. If I want to go to the grocery store wearing sweats and without makeup, I can. When I date someone, I don’t have to worry about trolls and their opinion on my relationship. I like my job, and the paychecks are certainly nice, but it’s not my endgame, you know?”

  He leans forward. “What is your endgame?”

  I shrug. “Eventually, I’d love to open a place by the beach. Get up early, make pastries, or cupcakes, or whatever I’m in the mood to bake that day. Then close up shop when all the food’s gone, go home, enjoy a nice glass of wine. If I’m lucky, I’ll have someone waiting for me to get home so we can snuggle.”

  “Someone to snuggle with, huh?” Ethan lifts an eyebrow which is oddly sexy. “Anyone filling that role now?”

  I smile. “Are you asking if I’m single, Mr. Baldwin?”

  He flashes a blinding smile. “Why, yes, I think I am.”

  “And why are you so interested?”

  Ethan hooks his foot around my ankle and his gaze becomes heated. “Because, Miss Martinez, I’m quite interested in you.”

  4

  Then

  GABBIE

  “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.” Ethan grabs my ass with both hands to demonstrate.

  I lift my shirt over my head and throw it on the floor. “Less talking, more kissing.”

  He offers me a cocky grin as he takes in my black lace bra. “It’d be my pleasure.” Ethan moves the cups down and takes my right nipple into his mouth. I suppose I didn’t specify where I wanted to be kissed.

  I arch my back as he lavishes attention on the other breast. We barely made it through the door to my apartment before we started mauling each other. As pathetic as it sounds, this is already the best sexual experience of my life. I’ve only known this man for a couple of months but I can say with absolute certainty, I’ve never wanted anyone more.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I couldn’t care less about the clause in our contracts right now. The whole thing is asinine, in my opinion. We’re both consenting adults. We should be able to get involved with whomever we want. If we decide to explore anything beyond tonight, we’ll just have to keep it quiet until we’ve finished filming.

  I shout when Ethan bites down on my nipple and sucks.

  He releases me with a pop. “So fucking sexy.”

  I pull on his dark, thick hair, drawing his eyes to mine. “Fuck me, Ethan. Now.”

  He groans. “Hold on, baby.” He loops his arms behind my thighs, encouraging me to jump up and wrap around him. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  I moan when he nips the sensitive skin right below my ear. “Down the hall on the left.”

  We’re walking blindly, too busy kissing to worry about things like coordination. After what seems like forever, we make it to my bedroom. Ethan deposits me on the mattress and removes his white button-down shirt followed by the t-shirt underneath. The process is painstakingly slow; it’s obvious he’s teasing me, building the anticipation.

  “Dios mío,” I whisper as he finally reveals his ridiculously sculpted core, one rippled muscle at a time. How this man bakes for a living and winds up with those abs, is beyond me. I couldn’t pull that off if I exercised twenty-four/seven.

  Ethan flashes a cocky smile as he pushes his black slacks down just enough to stroke his impressive length. “You like what you see, Gabbie?”

  I bite my lower lip. “That depends.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “On what?”

  “Whether or not you know how to use that thing.”

  He releases a surprised laugh and steps out of his pants, removing a foil square from his wallet. Ethan joins me on the bed, deftly removes the rest of my clothing, and lines his body up flush with mine. I moan shamelessly when he slides his cock against my slick flesh before resting his weight on top of me.

  “I can assure you, Gabs, I definitely know what to do with it.”

  “Prove it.”

  His eyes flicker with mirth. “Gladly, honey.”

  5

  Now

  ETHAN

  Nobody can perfect a pastry like yours truly. Cakes, pies, tarts, cannoli…you name it—I’m the master. On my twenty-fifth birthday, I opened my first store smack dab in the middle of Times Square. Two years later, another one on the Las Vegas Strip.

  Having two wildly successful bakeries under my belt, I was offered my first show with the Cooking Network. When its ratings went through the roof, they gave me three more, cementing my place within the industry and adding to my already impressive net worth.

  With my rise in fame came an endless supply of women. I never had trouble getting laid but this was on a whole other level. I had to practically beat them off with a zester strip, for Christ’s sake.

  Overall, life was pretty fucking great.

  Until Gabriela Martinez happened, that is. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get that woman out of my brain, which brings me to my current dilemma.

  I severely underestimated my willpower when I came up with this whole plan. Gabbie’s even more b
eautiful than she was two years ago. The entire time she was glaring at me and throwing attitude my way, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to remind her of a time when we got along very well. I didn’t realize it until this morning, but I fucking miss those times. The last month we were forced to work together was so volatile, it overshadowed any of the good we’d shared.

  Fuck.

  When I told my realtor I wanted to open my next retail store in the L.A. area, she found several suitable locations. I almost closed on one, but when I discovered that the space immediately adjacent to Sweet Temptations was available, I took it as a sign. Gabbie once tried to shit all over my career for her personal gain, so I plan to return the favor.

  Despite the fact that she’s the only pastry chef I know with talent that could rival mine, she’s no match for the popularity of my brand. The second I open for business, all of her customers will come through my door instead. And when I successfully drive her company into the ground, she’ll have no choice but to sell her property, which I’ll quickly snag to double my square footage.

  Does that make me a dick? Maybe. But as the saying goes, all’s fair in love and war. And she may not know it yet, but Gabbie and I are definitely at war.

  6

  Then

  GABBIE

  “We shouldn’t be doing this here,” I pant.

  Ethan’s grip tightens on my hip as he lightly bites down on my shoulder. “I know. But you make me feel like a goddamn teenager who can’t control his hormones.”

  My chuckle transforms into a gasp when he grinds his erection into my stomach. “I’m serious, Ethan. If we get caught, they could sue us for breach of contract.”

  He releases his hold on me and pulls back. He combs his fingers through his thick hair and heaves a sigh. “You’re right; I’m sorry.”

  I step away from the wall he had me up against and straighten the collar on his button-down shirt. “Hey, you have nothing to apologize for. I was an active participant, too.”

  His full lips turn up in the corners. “Now that I think about it, you did pretty much tackle me.”

  I shove his chest playfully. “I did not!”

  Ethan laughs as he looks in the mirror, smoothing down his hair. “It’s okay, Gabs. I tend to have this effect on women. I’m used to it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ass.”

  He tilts my chin up with his forefinger and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment, baby.”

  I shake my head and smile. “You would.”

  Someone knocks on my dressing room door. “Gabbie, have you seen Ethan anywhere? We roll in ten and I can’t find him.”

  “Shit,” I whisper, pushing Ethan into my small closet before cracking the door open to face our director’s assistant. “Hey, Maria. He knocked on my door a few minutes ago to let me know he was heading to his car real quick. Apparently, he left his phone in there.”

  Her brown eyes narrow in suspicion but she nods anyway. “We need you on set.”

  “Sure...of course. Let me just use the restroom and I’ll be right out.”

  I shut the door and turn the lock before she has the chance to respond. Taking a deep breath, I open the closet. “That was too close. We can’t keep doing this, Ethan.”

  Ethan and I have been...dating, for lack of a better word, for the last four months. Against my better judgement, I let my hormones lead the way because I’d never been so viscerally attracted to a man before. Call me crazy, but I felt compelled to explore that, despite the risks. The sex is amazing—best I’ve ever had—but the more I get to know him, the more his personality shines through. And that’s the part that’s pulling me in the most.

  He’s constantly making me laugh or smile. When we are intimate, he treats my body with nothing short of reverence, even when the sex is filthy. When we’re baking together—which we like to do sometimes after filming is done for the day—he’s always challenging me, but he’s surprisingly humble enough to accept my suggested tweaks. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m the only one who can get away with that though.

  As if all those reasons weren’t enough, he’s insanely smart and driven, always extremely attractive traits in my book. And he’s one of the few people I’ve met in this town that isn’t blinded by all the glimmer and glitz of Hollywood.

  I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I can honestly see myself having a future with Ethan. We have such vastly different backgrounds though, I often wonder if that would pose a problem. Ethan was raised in Bel Air, a neighborhood known for its wealth and lack of diversity. While I was surviving the Inglewood public school system, he attended posh private schools. At fifteen, I was washing dishes part-time to help keep food on our table. His biggest worry was probably deciding which girl he was going to feel up over the weekend.

  What would his family think of our relationship? As advanced as we’ve become as a society, racism and classism are still very much in full effect. Ours is a nation built by hard-working immigrants who came to this country with nothing more than the shirts on their backs. I think people forget that all too often. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing, but when you’re subjected to the harsh reality of it during your formative years, I think my wariness is justified.

  Ethan steps forward and wraps his big body around me, jolting me out of my reverie. “If you’d come home with me again, we wouldn’t have to resort to sneaking around the studio.”

  I pull back and shake my head. “You know that wouldn’t work. Not while all the photographers are so hot on your trail.” He opens his mouth to say something but I hold my hand up. “And before you say it, my house isn’t an option either. You know damn well they’re staged out front ready to follow as soon as you leave the lot. Look what happened when we went to lunch the other day. They’re just waiting for us to slip up. It’s only a matter of time before they start chasing me, too.”

  As much as it pains me to say this, I think he and I need to press pause on this whole thing. We were fine at first, had spent quite a few nights in each other’s arms, but the more often we’re seen together outside of the studio—no matter how innocent—the more aggressive the paparazzi becomes. They’ve even started hanging out in front of his house which sadly, put an end to our sleepovers.

  Those assholes are determined to get their money shot proving Ethan and I are more than co-workers. Normally, they couldn’t care less about celebrity chefs, but once they sniff a scandal, all bets are off. Look what happened to Martha and Paula.

  He rolls his eyes. “We’re on the same show, Gabs. We’re allowed to be friendly. As far as they’re concerned, we were discussing business. That’s what I told Eric after he confronted me.”

  “That’s exactly my point! If our producer is suspicious, he’s going to be watching us now, too. I think maybe we need to table this...whatever this is between us, until after the last season wraps.”

  He lifts a brow. “You honestly think we can keep our hands off each other for the next three months?” My knees buckle when he leans over and trails his tongue down the nape of my neck. “I fucking want you all the time, Gabbie. Like I’ve never wanted anyone before. My willpower isn’t that strong. I can do without the lunch dates, but I need you in my bed. We’ll be more careful. I’ll send a car to drive you to work tomorrow and you can come home with me afterwards. I’ll take my Range Rover so you can hide in the back when we leave the studio. Nobody can see through those windows.”

  My head falls back when his mouth moves down to my cleavage. “What if they’re still camped out at your house?”

  I can feel his smile against my skin when I moan. “I’ll park in the garage. They’ll never know you’re there. I need you, Gabs. I can’t stop thinking about this beautiful body.” He stands up straight and taps my temple. “And your mind. You’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met in this town. How can you ask me to give that up?”

  “Wait,” I correct. “I’m asking you to wait until we finish fi
lming. By then, we’ll be released from our contracts so being seen together won’t be an issue. Everyone will assume we fell for each other during the filming but we can’t give the network proof that we did anything about it while under contract. It’s too risky right now, no matter how many precautions we take. Too many people are watching us. Wait three months, then you can have me all you want.”

  He smirks. “All I want, whenever I want?”

  I smile at his implication. “In any position you want.”

  Ethan groans. “You’re killing me, woman.”

  I glance at the time. “I have to get on set. Wait a few minutes and then follow.” I give him a light peck on the cheek before exiting my dressing room.

  As I make my way down the hallway, I think to myself how the next few months of my life are going to seem like an eternity.

  7

  Now

  GABBIE

  “It sounds like a warzone over there.” My assistant, Caroline, rubs her temples. “God, my head is killing me.”

  I sigh. “They’ve gotta be almost done with renovations by now.”

  From the sounds of it, Ethan’s new space is undergoing a major facelift. They have the windows blacked out, but Caroline and I have had to listen to construction noises through our rattling shared wall for over five weeks now. Sometimes it gets so loud, we have to shout to speak to our customers.

  Caroline gives me a worried expression. “What’s going to happen to us when they open?”

  “Please,” I scoff. “If anything, that asshole should be asking himself that question. We’re one of the most recommended places in Santa Monica on TripAdvisor. People have been lining up around the corner since the day we opened. I don’t know what he was thinking putting his new shop right next door.”