The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap

by Kauffman, Donna; Angell, Kate; Kincaid, Kimberly

  “Pete.” Lily squirmed against him, the ache building between her thighs making her impatient. But he refused to give in, simply pinning her with a look so utterly sexy, it stayed her movements.

  “I told you. I’m not a nice guy.”

  His hands shaped the back of her ribcage as he drew her close, trailing kisses down her neck as his fingers climbed gently up her spine. She arched to give him unbroken access, feeling his smile against her skin. The sighs that left her with every touch would’ve been embarrassing, except even those felt deliciously good as they spilled past her lips.

  “God, you are beautiful.” Pete’s hands moved in a lazy trail from her back to her shoulders, tracing the heated path of his kisses, and Lily was certain she’d drown in the sheer want coursing through her. When he finally set his attention on her breasts, she gasped at the feel of his callused fingers on her sensitive skin.

  Another smile curved into her flesh as he dipped his head lower, and oh God, Pete’s stubble felt even better than his fingers on her needy skin. Cupping his hands to test the weight of first one breast, then the other, he drew in one nipple, tight against his tongue. The ache between her thighs became an absolute demand, and Lily rolled her hips into his, driven by need.

  Pete curled his hand upward in response, holding her tighter. When his fingers joined in with the wicked movement of his mouth as he teased her, Lily knotted her legs around his waist, thrusting against his erection in a greedy push.

  “You’re not playing by the rules,” he ground out, stopping his ministrations only long enough to let the words escape. But for the first time in her life, Lily didn’t care about playing fair. Hell, she didn’t care about anything unless it involved having this man inside her body.

  “You’re not really going to turn into a stickler on me now, are you?” Lily moved back to slide her hand between their bodies. Her palm met soft fabric over rock-hard intentions, and a muscle ticked beneath Pete’s stubble as she stroked his cock.

  “Only if turnabout is fair play.” He eased her back to the pillows, filling her belly with butterflies as he shifted forward for another searing kiss. She gripped the hem of his T-shirt as she pressed up to return it, and within seconds, both the shirt and her pajama bottoms lay in a heap on the floor.

  She knew she should be self-conscious in the low light of Pete’s room, wearing nothing but a pair of light blue panties and a tremble on her lips, but the feeling that had steered Lily down the hallway in the first place remained.

  This didn’t feel crazy or brash or impulsive. It felt right, like it was made exactly for her.

  “Still sure?” Pete asked, as if her thoughts were broadcast on her face, but she only nodded.

  “You?”

  “Are you kidding?” He slid under the covers, pulling her close against him in answer. “I’ve wanted you since the minute I saw you.”

  His hands were on her like wildfire, hot and out of control as he coaxed sensations from her body she’d only fantasized about. Lily returned the favor, running her hands over the leanly muscled expanse of Pete’s chest, letting her fingers follow the scattering of dark hair leading from his navel to his waistband.

  “Not yet,” he murmured, capturing her wrist in one palm. But when she whimpered her displeasure, he parted her knees with a gentle press, green eyes glittering as he slid down her body.

  “First, I want to find out the answer to my question.”

  Sparks shot through Lily’s belly as he slipped her underwear from her hips, trailing kisses from her breasts to her belly button. He paused for just a minute to rim her navel with a lazy sweep of his tongue, causing her whimper to make a repeat performance.

  But then he settled on the heat between her thighs, and she promptly forgot her name.

  “Oh, God.” Lily’s fists knotted over hot handfuls of cotton as she gripped the coverlet beneath her. But Pete refused to rush, pleasuring her in long, languid strokes with both his hands and mouth. All of Lily’s tension and unanswered need stretched together into one fine point as he touched her so flawlessly, until the mounting pressure hovered on the bright edge between reason and release.

  She tumbled over without a second thought.

  Waves of pleasure splashed through her, covering even the smallest places as she came with a keening cry. Pete lightened his touch by slow degrees, slipping from the cradle of her hips only after he’d wrought every last shudder from her body.

  “You are stunning like this.” He placed the whisper in the space between her neck and her shoulder, although Lily felt it all the way down to her toes. She reached for him, guiding her hands around his face as she fixed her eyes on his, unwavering.

  “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you, Pete.”

  Pete’s quick fumble through the bedside table blessedly produced a condom, and Lily wrapped her hands around his waistband as he returned to the threshold of her hips. She lowered the last garment between them, shocked to find even more need swirling within her as he rolled the condom on and slid his length along her aching folds.

  “Now. Please.”

  Slowly, he pressed his cock into the heat of her body, stealing every ounce of her breath as he stretched her completely.

  “Lily.” Her name passed through his lips on a ragged groan. “You feel so good,” he said, sliding back just to surge forward and fill her again.

  “Please . . . don’t stop.” Lily matched his rhythm, sensual pressure rebuilding in her core with every thrust.

  Pete braced himself on his forearms, grazing her skin with each movement, and the brush of his chest on her nipples made her gasp. Wrapping her fingers around the tight muscles in his hips, she held him in place, lifting her body to meet his again and again until she began to quake with familiar, brilliant release.

  “Ah, God, Lily.” Pete ground out her name, and she chanted his in return, arching up to take him until he leaned down to cover her. He gripped the curve of her shoulders with rough palms, answering her thrusts with more of his own until he began to shudder on one final groan, holding her tight to his body as he came.

  They lay together beneath the sheets, panting and spent in a tangle of limbs as Lily regained her body. Minutes dropped off the clock, but whether it was two or two hundred, she couldn’t tell.

  And in that moment, Lily realized that for all the meticulous planning that had led her down the hall, she had absolutely no clue what to do next.

  Chapter 9

  Of all the things Pete could imagine doing the night before an elimination challenge, having the most intense sex of his life was nowhere near the top of the list. In fact, the only thing that seemed less likely was doing it twice, then falling asleep wrapped around the woman in question.

  Which made Pete two for two in the no fucking way category.

  In his defense, he hadn’t planned on having sex with Lily, not even when she’d appeared on his doorstep wearing soft pink pajamas that matched her hot-as-hell blush. He’d even tried to warn her by telling her outright that he wasn’t a nice guy, but then she’d done something that kicked his resolve right out from under him.

  She’d played it straight, and the simple honesty made him realize exactly how much he wanted her, too.

  A little problematic, since not only were they vying for the same prize, but Lily had also managed to glimpse past the cocky façade he’d worn like a suit of armor for half his life. Something about her no-nonsense disposition tempted Pete to trust her with the rest of it, to lay it all on the line and let her see everything. After all, she’d grown up in difficult circumstances too.

  The only difference was, she had a family who loved her, whereas Pete had parents who only stopped drinking long enough to tell him and his sister how worthless they were.

  “Hey.” Lily’s soft voice broke through his trip down bad-memory lane as she sat down next to him, and the bright morning sunlight pouring in through lobby windows had nothing on her glow. “I’m glad I caught you. I grabbed some bagels and
juice from Joe’s. We only have a few minutes to get to the competition floor, but you should probably eat.”

  His smile was involuntary, in spite of the thoughts she’d interrupted. “You always eat a balanced breakfast, don’t you?”

  She paired her return smile with an eye roll. “It doesn’t hurt to start out healthy. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

  Pete laughed. “I’m going to make you a banana split one morning. Bet it’ll change your tune.”

  The implication hit him only after the words were out, and he cleared his throat in an effort to smooth over it.

  Christ, he wanted to spend more than one night with her.

  Lily’s movements screeched to a halt, her blue eyes flying wide before she dropped them to her hands. “Well, at least there’s fruit in a banana split,” she said, dodging the subject as she finished passing him a white paper bag printed with Joe’s logo.

  But being with her had been the best thing he’d felt in who knew how long, and suddenly, he didn’t want to skirt the issue. “Lily, look at me.”

  Surprisingly, she did, and it made telling her how he really felt a foregone conclusion. “I know we didn’t plan for this to happen, and that it has the potential to get . . . complicated.”

  She exhaled audibly over a wry smile, but still held his gaze. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “But I don’t care.”

  “You don’t?” The shock on her face was plain.

  “Look, I’m not saying I don’t want to win, because I do. But when I look at you, I like who I see, too. And that doesn’t happen a lot.” Okay, so it didn’t even happen intermittently, but the last thing he wanted to do was freak her out fifteen minutes before they went into the kitchen.

  “So where does that leave us?” Lily asked, so straightforward that he had no choice but to answer her with the same honesty.

  “Right here together, I guess.”

  She sat with him as he ate, and although they didn’t speak, the quiet settled over them like a blanket, drawing them together. Finally, Lily glanced at the hallway leading to the competition floor, and Pete’s chest tightened as he squeezed her hand.

  “Go. I know you’re dying to get ready for them to let us in.”

  Her sheepish expression told him he’d been spot-on in reading her, but she didn’t let go of his fingers. “Are you sure?”

  In that moment, Pete knew his life was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated, because as much as he didn’t want to go home today, he didn’t want Lily to go home, either.

  As crazy as it was, he wanted to be with her, and not just for a night or two.

  “Yeah, Blondie. I’m sure.”

  Pete pressed his palms against the countertop in his assigned station, trying to absorb enough of the steely coolness to soften the edges of adrenaline in his veins as Chase Bishop took the podium.

  “Good morning, contestants.” Chase dialed his smile to the on-air setting as he nodded to the group. “Welcome to our next elimination round. We’ll be narrowing the field to ten finalists today, which means each of you will need to bring your A-game if you want to advance. In keeping with our Christmas theme, today’s challenge is to create a cookie based on your best holiday memory.”

  Pete’s gut sank as Chase continued. “You’ll each have fifteen minutes to plan and an hour to bake and plate your offering. While flavor and technique will be deciding factors as always, presentation is key in this round. Each dish should reflect your personal story, and you will be judged accordingly. Good luck, contestants. Your time starts . . . right now.”

  Pete buckled down over the rock of unease centered firmly in his stomach. He hadn’t come this far to lose out because of his past. Hell, he’d paid for those years in spades—no way was he going to give those bitter memories a piece of him now, no matter what the challenge requirements might be. The only Christmas he wanted to remember was this one, punctuated by the sweet taste of victory.

  He stabbed a hand through his hair, forcing himself to think as he skimmed a glance over the crowd.

  Lucas’s tentative stare from the spectator’s section zapped him with all the subtlety of jumper cables on a tapped-out battery. For a split second, Pete’s focus did a complete free fall, but then the kid lifted a hand in a silent wave, and the hope on his face locked Pete’s determination back into place.

  He could either crush this event, or let it crush him, and the latter just wasn’t an option. After all, he was only presenting to three judges. He could say just enough to get by without spilling his guts, even if it did skirt the presentation requirements a little. Then he’d let his kickass cookie lead him right to the finals.

  So he could donate the prize money to School Days when he won the whole damned thing.

  For sixty minutes, Pete worked with laserlike precision, finessing each ingredient to suit the recipe forming in his head. His formal training kicked into gear, melding flavors to create a flawless profile. Toasted hazelnuts met heady brown sugar in the food processor while jewel-toned raspberries deepened and mellowed over low heat. Pete knocked out each task with meticulous care, and by the time the clock hit zero, he was absolutely certain he’d advance. He’d thrown every skill he had into his dish, from the complex flavors to the artful balance of colors and textures on the plate.

  “Competitors!” Chase’s voice quieted the murmuring crowd. “Since we’ve asked you for something personal in this round, we’d like to take it a step further.”

  Pete resisted the urge to wince. He should’ve known better than to think they’d actually do this straight up. Not that it mattered. He had perfection on his plate, and nothing could throw him off his game now.

  “Rather than keep your presentations behind closed doors like last round, we’ve decided to do them right here, in front of your fellow contestants and our public audience.”

  The cameraman by Pete’s station panned over the crowd while he silently clutched. How the hell was he supposed to bolster his reputation by airing out his dirty laundry in front of everyone? Three judges, he could’ve managed. An entire audience, plus the whole story going on the Internet?

  Not a chance. He needed a backup plan. Like yesterday.

  “We’ve drawn numbers to determine presentation order. Today’s first contestant is Lily Callahan.”

  Pete’s pulse logjammed in his veins as Lily stepped forward, nodding to Chase and the judges with an unreadable expression.

  “The cookie I made today is an eggnog snickerdoodle, combining two of my favorites from childhood. I wanted to play up both classic sweet flavors with some depth and sophistication, so I added nutmeg and a little bit of bourbon to the mix. Kind of like sugar and spice, all grown up.”

  Laughter rippled from the judges’ table as Lily continued. “This cookie reminds me of my tenth Christmas, when all I wanted was an Easy-Bake Oven.” Her voice wavered with just a hint of emotion, but she kept going. “I come from a big family, and money was tight, so I didn’t get my hopes up. Still, I wished for that oven, so I could learn how to bake cookies just like my mom. She is truly an inspiration to me, and I wanted to be like her in every sense of the word, especially when I was ten.

  “My mom knew how much I wanted the oven even though I tried to hide it, so she and my dad worked extra shifts to have enough money to splurge. When I saw it under the tree, it was a dream come true, not just because I got what’d I’d wished for, but because it taught me that anything is possible, even for a little girl from the poor side of town.” Lily paused, her matter-of-fact demeanor falling away to reveal raw emotion that took a potshot at Pete’s sternum as she finished.

  “It was then that I knew in my heart I was a baker. I broke in that Easy-Bake Oven by making snickerdoodles on Christmas morning, which we all enjoyed with eggnog. While I promise my recipe has been refined over the years, this cookie, and the flavors in it, really represent the season for me. I hope you enjoy it.”

  Lily stepped back to her
station while the judges tasted and took notes, and in that moment, Pete knew he was screwed. Sure, he could make up some easy-breezy fabrication involving Christmases by the fire and a bunch of other things that had never happened, but no way could he pull off a presentation like Lily’s, packed with enough emotional punch to put tears in Chef di Matisse’s eyes. Whatever he came up with, especially on the fly, wouldn’t be enough.

  For a brief second, Pete considered just letting the truth out. But blabbing about his difficult past wouldn’t just expose him, and his sister had been through enough already. Ava had come here five years ago to forget, and he’d come to Pine Mountain to look out for her. He couldn’t risk the possibility of her having to relive those memories because he’d dragged them all over the Internet for a contest win.

  His fellow contestants presented their cookies one by one, many of them with heartfelt stories like Lily’s, until finally, he was the last chef standing.

  “Our final presentation is from Pete Mancuso,” Chase said from the podium, and an event staffer came forward to gather the plates from Pete’s station. There, on three tiny white dishes, were his perfectly constructed desserts, showcasing a flawless flavor profile and impeccable skill under a damn-near ridiculous time constraint.

  And each one of them held a story he couldn’t tell. So instead, Pete did what he always did.

  He leveled his cocky smile at the judges, broadcasting the very confidence that had been stamped out of him all his life.

  “The cookie I’ve made for you is a raspberry-acai and chocolate linzer. I softened the tartness of the fruit filling with honey and rose water, and added a swirl of bittersweet ganache to play against the sweetness of the traditional Linzer base.” Pete filled the expectant pause with a nod toward the judges. “Please enjoy.”

  Three sets of eyebrows lifted in plain surprise. “It’s such a beautifully executed cookie, Chef. Don’t you want to say anything else about it?” Chef di Matisse looked at him expectantly.