Have Your Cake

by Roi, D. S.

  “Damn. You sure did work off your stay by the size of this knot.”

  “Asher,” she whispered.

  His name trailing from her didn’t help soothe the heat forming in his jeans. “Wait a minute.” He scooted closer. “I think I found another one.” He pressed into a large knot further down.

  She moaned. “Oh my god, Asher, that feels so good.”

  Hell yeah, it does. He craved more of her soft skin under his palm. “Tell me when to stop.” He tugged the bottom of her tank to get it from her beltline.

  Her spine tensed. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry. Asher has left the building for this one. I’ll be Have. I just want to take care of you.”

  She chuckled. “Are you serious? You’re not trying anything?”

  He leaned in while his palm caressed her upper back. “I’m trying not to seem like a hard ass. I don’t mind you working off your stay but,” he paused to knead her muscle and was rewarded with a moan, “at this rate you’ll be staying a whole month.”

  She chuckled but melted into his hands. “You treat all your guest like this and they’ll never leave.”

  “One could only be so lucky,” he whispered.

  “You said you would behave.”

  He groaned. “I did. You’re right. So, I gotta go easy on you, huh?”

  She smiled over her shoulder. “I’m beginning to think you cowboys don’t know a thing about easy.”

  He chuckled. “Damn, little lady, you got me there.” He gave her another squeeze. Her moan came out with more strength. “Do sister-girls know how to be easy? ‘Cause the noise your making is hell on wheels.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never had a massage before.”

  He froze. “Never?”

  She pulled away and twisted to him. “I, um, didn’t think it was a good use of money.”

  “Really?” He chuckled.

  Her brow knit. “Asher, are you poking fun of me?”

  “No, Love. I’m no professional, but I think we ought to go in for this one. I don’t want your first massage to be done sittin’ on a tile floor.” He came to his feet and held out his hands. “Come on. You can show me your portfolio while I rub you down. We can talk about what to do with those short ribs marinating in the fridge.”

  “Mm, Hotel Asher is looking better and better.” She took his hand and he tugged her from the floor.

  Cyana tied her hair up high on her head figuring the humidity had done enough to strengthen her natural curl pattern. A cool shower was in order. She stripped down before opening the double glass doors to the bath.

  The jetted garden tub on her left was inviting. She’d have to work out some time to settle into the luxury. The dark hardwoods were cool under her feet, making the white trim pop out to the eye. She ran two fingers along the golden wall paint, briefly admiring the framed artwork before her analysis carried upwards to the chandelier in the center of the space. She grabbed a towel from the shelf on the right and sniffed at the clean linen before pressing the soft fibers of cotton against her bare breasts. The footed sink cabinet sported a white marble counter top. She stopped to inhale the vanilla scent of the candle sitting unburned atop it. After stretching her toes on the plush white rug she headed to the far left corner of the room to start the shower.

  She slid the door open and admired all the jets along the wall of the unit. She recognized it as some type of massage feature, but didn’t have the first clue how to work it. Asher would be downstairs waiting to loosen her up anyway.

  She smiled at the thought of Asher. Didn’t see this one coming. But wasn’t that what Mama always said? “A good man will come along when you least expect it.”

  She took another glance around the room. The space was gorgeous. Something he created. Something he was accustomed to and a far cry from her shoebox in Chicago. She sighed. “It won’t work, Cyana. We’re both too different.”

  Once she considered herself clean, she dressed and nabbed the Huffin Muffin portfolio from her duffle.

  Asher let out a whistle. “What do we have here?”

  Cyana glanced to the floor immediately, clutching a white binder to her chest. He’d already gotten his fill of her sports tank and gym shorts stuffed full of wow before she covered up. She was every bit as stacked as he remembered. Thank the gym-rat gods for the clothes these women run around in.

  “I…um…thought this might be easier to get a massage in.”

  He smiled while placing the hot baking tray of ribs on the stovetop. The heat of the oven didn't compare to what she was doing to him below the waist. He set the pot holders down and approached her, intent on filling his sights with her curves. “Good thinking.” He reached for the binder. “But, I was talking about this piece of work here.” He tugged her security blanket away but forced himself to show it some interest. He’d have his hands on her soon enough. Making her uncomfortable wouldn’t help his agenda. “Huffin Muffin.” He locked gazes with her.

  She nodded. Her bottom lip folded into her mouth on one side. She rubbed her arm where her sleeve would have been if she opted for a t-shirt. Her coy demeanor made him want to grab and kiss her right then. Settle down. It’ll happen. He tried to convince himself, but she’d be with her folks soon. He didn’t know if he’d have a chance to get his fix after the wedding either. Can’t let this one get away. If she was half as passionate naked as she was when he got a taste of her, she was worth the wait.

  He smiled and glanced back to her logo. “That’s pretty clever.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Let’s take a look at this after we eat. I’ll put it someplace safe for now. Don’t want to get sauce all over it. I made us a salad to get started. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Cyana stuffed herself with salad, rolls, seasoned green beans and ribs. Asher cleared her plate before swabbing the small wooden surface of the breakfast table clean.

  Asher retrieved her portfolio from the top of the fridge; then opened it to fish out two blue bottles. He offered her the beer.

  “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”

  “You sure? You know you’re only leaving one more for me to drink, don’t cha?”

  “Cowboy, two of those and you’ll be peeling me up off this floor.”

  He laughed. “Light weight?”

  “I know my limits.”

  “Well, your limit’s two.” He raised an eyebrow and held the bottle out.

  She sighed. “Okay. One.”

  “I promise I won’t offer any more.” He set the portfolio down on the space he’d cleared and opened her bottle. “Stand up a minute.”

  She did as told. He flipped her seat so she could straddle it and give him access to her back. Delicate texture shoved beyond the racer back of her sports bra, making him anxious to test how soft her skin would be over the firm muscles. He tugged the other chair around to seat himself and rubbed his hands together.

  10

  Cyana did her best not to squirm under Asher’s touch. Explaining the different pages to him was interrupted with an occasional moan.

  The pictures of her many creations impressed him as his tone took on surprise. He commented on her pastry designs.

  “Cake baking has gotten a lot more complicated than I remembered it being.” He pointed to the black two-tier with bright poke-a-dots. The cupcakes shaped like dogs. “You really know what you’re doing.”

  She smiled. “I sure hope so.”

  “Let me see the four-tier cake you got there again. Didn’t you say it was a wedding cake?”

  She nodded and turned to the page he indicated. The heat exuded from him pressed into her back as he leaned over to get a better look at the photo. His scent wafted up her nose. She relaxed into him.

  “I think this photo’s too small, if you don’t mind my saying.” He pointed to the tanned stencil and hand-piped flower around the middle tier. “Look here. I bet the icing detail was time consuming. It’s beautiful work. I think your image ought t
o capture it more.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Okay. I see what you’re saying.”

  “As a matter of fact, I think all your designs could use a close up. How ‘bout you do a little sideways photo down here on the bottom with close ups of your work?”

  “Asher, what a great idea.” She turned to look at him. His face was inches away while he focused on the page. His brow knit heavily in think mode.

  “Damn, sister-girl. You got yourself a winning portfolio here. I mean, you really do.” He nodded. He flipped through a few more pages but her attention was locked on the movement of his Adam’s apple, the curve of his jaw, chin and lips. “What’s this?” He removed the bound pages from the back pocket of the binder.

  She noticed what he had and straightened in her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she dismissed.

  “Huffin Muffin.” He read out loud and opened the first page.

  “Wait, Asher.”

  “Executive summary?” He ignored her, standing from his chair. The move tugged the pages shy of her grasp.

  “I’m not ready for anyone to see it yet.”

  “Oh, no. It’s in the portfolio. You said I could look it over.” He grabbed his seat, set it in place before he sat across from her and peered at the page. “Industry, market analysis.”

  “But, really Asher, it’s not finished.”

  He held up a finger. “Competitive analysis, marketing, management, operating and financial plan.”

  “Asher, I really don’t want anyone to look at that.”

  He skimmed it. “Why not? It looks like a mighty fine business plan you got written up here. It’s damn near complete.”

  She sighed, finally taking the papers from his hand. “I’m not ready to show the world yet.”

  “Not ready to launch Huffin Muffin?”

  She laughed at the way he said the name.

  “Oh Cyana, come on. What do you mean you’re not ready? You got a great idea, an extensive business plan, for a first timer, a catchy name and a great logo. That certainly looks like ready to me. I believe I even overheard you telling your sister you have startup capital.”

  “I know. And all those things are true, but,” she paused, setting the papers down; spreading her palms over the top of it as if it needed soothing, “I don’t mind it being just an idea for now.”

  Asher shook his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t understand. With all you got here, the presentation has the mark of a real professional.”

  “I…thanks, Asher. It means a lot coming from you. Especially since I know you’ve probably been where I am before.” She waved her hand around the kitchen as if his work spoke for itself. “I mean, you’re a master at this. A proven master, but—” She shook her head, averting her gaze.

  “Where’s this coming from?” he asked. “I don’t get this lack of confidence.”

  Cyana sighed, toying with her fingers a moment. “There’s this company I really wanted to fund me. You know? Big Chicago Cakes dot com. It’s a big deal to get a feature on their site. I mean, a really big deal.” She spread her hands into a large ball shape. “Huge.” She flashed her gaze up to him a moment; then brought her hands together to stare at them. “Cake competitions on their site have led to bake-offs and catapulted numerous pâtisseries into culinary bliss.” A smile formed on her lips. “I’m talking bakeries filled with orders for cookies, cupcakes, pies, birthday and wedding cakes.” She fidgeted in the chair as her hands spoke with her. “Even breads. Genius can be demonstrated on the site. A feature can kick a baker’s dream up into confectionary heaven.” Her hands rose to the sky along with her smile. “You need a business or a solid business plan to enter the features competition. So, I sent in an entry for Huffin Muffin.” Her gaze met his. The smile faded while she toyed with her fingers again.

  “Did you get in?”

  She didn’t lift her head. “No.”

  “Any feedback?”

  She shook her head again. “Just the plan wasn’t good enough. Not enough startup capital, but if I’d won the features I would have won seventy-five thousand.”

  “Cyana, are you seriously holding off because of a baking competition where there were no taste tests?”

  She shrugged. “Well, it was a blow to my ego. It’s like,” she waved her hands around, “if you’re a small town baker, they don’t even want to look at you. You have to book large events. Like this wedding. They advertise as if you can be just some no name with lots of talent. But, in the end, it’s whoever wins the popularity contest gets to have the votes. I’ve eaten pastry from some of the winners. Let me tell you, I do a hell of a better job.” She took a long breath. “Just gotta prove it. So, that’s what I’m working on.”

  “Hey, don’t get down on yourself just ‘cause some big name contest judge missed out on the best cake in Chicago. That’s his loss.”

  “Asher, you’ve never had my cake.”

  “No, but I’ve had your mama’s cobbler. I’d marry that thing if it were legal to eat the bride.”

  She laughed. “Cowboy, you’re a mess.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He flashed a grin. “I’m giving you a warning though, keep going at this rate and someone’s gonna start taking you seriously.” He tapped his finger on the cover of her business plan.

  “The contest isn’t the only hold up.” She shrugged. “You know, life happens. I have other obligations taking up my time at the moment. Life long ones.”

  He wrapped his hands around hers, held them still in the center of the table. “I didn’t start out in the Milway mansion. I had to work at it. I’ve been at this for over a decade. There’s going to be a time you’re gonna have to seize what will make your dreams come true. You have so much passion, it would be too bad to waste it. Promise me, you won’t give up.”

  “I promise.” She spoke the words quickly. With confidence. “I know what I have to do now. That makes everything a little less scary. When I land this wedding cake bid, it’s gonna go in my portfolio as a superstar. I’m excited about the opportunity to début at a big event like this. Give out my cards. Build a larger name for Huffin Muffin. You know?”

  He rubbed his thumbs against the outside of her delicate hands. “How’s a shy bird like you going to give a room of stuffed-shirt millionaires a presentation to convince them to invest in your company?”

  She laughed lightly. “You know the girl you met on the steps?”

  He peered up to the ceiling. “I believe she was Cyana’s representative.” He scratched at his chin.

  “She and I have been working on people skills and putting on a brave face.”

  “Oh really?” He lifted the back of her hand to his lips. “I liked her too. It’s nice to have a girl who doesn’t mind bringing a friend along. I wouldn’t want to get the reputation of being a two-timer.” He winked.

  “Asher.” She snatched her hand away reading perfectly into his innuendo.

  He roared into laughter. “Picking on you is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. You want a cup of Joe? I know you’re waitin’ on your folks to get cha, but you look tired.”

  She covered her yawn. “I think sleep is imminent after the massage and good food. Is it okay if I crash until they arrive?”

  “Sure.” She was eating away at him. He couldn’t deny their attraction as he walked her up the long flight of stairs to his former bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his ankles.

  “It’s been fun, Cyana. Really. I like having you around,” he said.

  She smiled up at him. “It’s been nice to stay here too.”

  He nodded. “You get some rest now. I’ll wake you when Iona gets here.”

  “Thanks, Cowboy.”

  He leaned in, kissing her on the forehead.

  11

  Cyana stared at the ceiling. Another night in Asher’s bed. A void shifted through the thought. Another night alone. Twenty years without a man in her bed other than the one she raised.

  She groaned a
gainst the memory of kissing Asher. The fire in his stare deepened into something dangerous. Fearful anticipation coursed through her blood moments before she’d jumped into his arms to steal more of him. The embarrassment of her actions tugged at her. The twenty years which seemed so right, now felt absolutely wrong.

  She sensed a belonging with Asher. Was she desperate or was it something he did to her? How on Earth did she find this man? What would dating a man like him do to her life? Why did he appear now when she had no intention of being in a relationship?

  Her thoughts paused. He hadn’t asked her out. Their brief encounters of passion could be categorized as flirting. For all she knew he could have just wanted some fun. Perhaps he was as curious as she. Maybe he really was just a flirt or only wanted one thing.

  She nibbled her lower lip. A part of her wished he was looking for a booty call. She wasn’t that type of girl, but it would be much easier to walk away from him then. Her touch was trailing her thighs, teasing the emotion she wished he would satisfy. Crap. She could take him up on his offer, but then what kind of girl did it make her? Should she care? She was going back to Chicago after the wedding. There was a slim chance she’d ever see him again, so it really didn’t matter what he’d think of her.

  Oh double crap, why am I thinking like this? Leave it alone, Cyana. Just stay away. Iona will be here soon. She could survive this.

  A gentle knock on the door brought her from the depths of sleep.

  “Come in,” she moaned half conscious. Her body never acknowledged her mind's response. She shifted a little after a weight disturbed the bed. She wanted to move but slipped back into the deep slumber.

  A strong hand settled on her shoulder. Asher’s voice came soft and soothing. “Wake up, Love. You have a call.”

  She jumped into wakefulness; heaving her upper body from the pillow.

  “Slow down, Love.”

  “Who is it?” Her voice teemed with worry.