“It probably is,” he agreed with a small smile. “So what was it about that cake?” he asked. “You were especially… glowing when you gave it to her.”
“Was I?” Josie remembered being not nervous, exactly, but eager to see Mrs. Milford’s reaction. When the older woman had teared up, Josie had known she’d gotten it right.
“You were. I wanted to sweep you up and kiss you right there.”
Her stomach flipped. “I would have liked that.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I’m glad to know that.” He paused. “So what was it about that cake?”
“It was for her husband’s college graduation.”
Grant frowned slightly. “She looked like she was in her sixties or so. How old is he?”
“Sixty-six,” Josie said with a smile. “He went back to college and got his accounting degree. Isn’t that amazing? He didn’t go to college after high school. He went to work with his dad for the railroad. But he always wanted to have a degree and to do accounting. He was diagnosed with cancer when he was sixty, and after he beat it, he decided that he was going to do the things he’d always wanted to.”
Grant was watching her with an expression that was hard to decipher. “That makes sense,” he finally said. “That cake was a part of a celebration that meant a lot to them, so you wanted it to be just right.”
She nodded. “It’s an honor to be a part of people’s monumental days. I know it’s just cake and it’s going to be eaten and disappear. I know as soon as they cut into it, all the decorating and everything gets ruined anyway but… it still matters. To me.”
“The cake can still make the day memorable,” he said. “It’s a part of the whole thing.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you don’t think that’s silly.”
“How can you caring so much about someone else’s important days be silly?”
And Josie felt herself fall a little in love.
Oops. Crap.
The waiter came over to ask if they wanted more wine. Grant had him fill both of their glasses again, and then with his eyes on Josie, said, “And a piece of the triple chocolate fudge mousse cake.”
Josie felt her eyes widen. That sounded sinful. And amazing.
The waiter moved off and Grant said, “It’s not the same as someone making a cake specifically for us for today, but I think it’s only right we have some cake to commemorate the day.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
“So what do you like so much about the city?” he asked, tipping his head toward the window.
She thought about his question. “It’s pretty,” she finally said. “The lights and everything. There’s an energy here that’s so different from what I know. There are so many things here—things to do and see, opportunities. Museums, shows, libraries. I’m sure there a hundred classes to take. I could learn to cook Indian food or make real Italian pasta from scratch. I could have someone teach me to make authentic baklava.” She nodded. “It’s all the different cultures and things to learn and experience.”
He nodded. “But you could always come here and spend a few days and do those things and then go home.”
“Yes. I guess that’s true.”
“You’d never want to actually live here,” he said. He didn’t phrase it as a question.
Josie didn’t have to think about that very hard. “No.” She shook her head. “I think, for me, that’s the intrigue of travel. Seeing things, experiencing things that are different from what I know. But then taking it back with me and making it a part of my ‘normal.’”
“Tell me more about that,” Grant said.
His posture still suggested that he was relaxed and casual, but he was watching her intently. He seemed completely focused on her.
Grant Lorre’s full attention and focus was an intense thing.
Josie swallowed and sat back in her chair too. But she couldn’t help playing with the napkin in her lap. “I would love to see the mountains, for instance,” she started. “But I think when I got home, the mountains would make me notice the plains in Iowa more closely. I would love to eat authentic Mediterranean food prepared in Greece. But I think when I got home, I would pay more attention to how great the bacon cheeseburgers were. I think seeing the country, even the world, would be amazing and would make me appreciate other places, but I think it would also make me appreciate the things I have right at home more too.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
“What do you like about traveling?” she asked. “You do a lot of it, right?”
“I do. But it’s more of a necessity. Not that I don’t enjoy it,” he added. “I’ve seen amazing places, eaten amazing food. But I don’t have that contrast that you do. The places I go are very much like where I live.”
“Greece and Rome and Paris and Honolulu and San Francisco are not like Chicago,” Josie protested. “Or like one another.”
“They’re cities where I stay in a hotel that’s a lot like the apartment I live in and eat food prepared by professional chefs and ride in car driven by other people,” he said. “It’s not like Appleby.”
For some reason, that made Josie hold her breath.
“Appleby is the kind of place that makes you appreciate all of that,” he went on thoughtfully. “Professionally prepared gourmet meals with things like truffle sauce and lobster tail seem fancier because you also know the comfort and goodness of homemade pork chops and cheesy potatoes.”
Those cheesy potatoes were going to haunt her forever, Josie decided. But she liked what he was saying.
“The lights of the city seem brighter and more sparkly next to the old-fashioned streetlights and relative dark of the little town,” he said. “The museums seem more majestic because you can compare them to the little house at the end of Main Street Appleby where they have photographs and items collected from when the town was founded.”
“The museums are much more majestic than that house,” Josie said with a laugh.
“But they’re doing the same thing,” Grant said. “They’re telling stories about the past, preserving things that are important for the place they’re in.”
She shook her head. “Wow, you sound almost nostalgic about Appleby all of a sudden.”
“Let’s just say, I understand the charm,” he said.
“I’m glad.” She meant that. She didn’t know if it meant he’d come back and visit more often. And that maybe she’d get to see him when he did. Maybe they’d try to keep dating. After their marriage was over. She almost rolled her eyes at how ridiculous that sounded. But even if it didn’t mean Grant would spend more time in her hometown, she liked knowing that he’d think of it fondly. She could admit that it made her sad to think about a time when she wouldn’t see Grant every day though.
Already.
How had this guy gotten to her so quickly?
“What is being here in Chicago making you appreciate about home now?” he asked.
“The darkness,” she said with a smile, pushing the melancholy thoughts away. She was here in the big city, amid the bright lights, in a fabulous dress, with the most amazing man she’d ever dated. The man who was her husband. At least for now. She didn’t want to waste any of this on being sad. “The quiet, of course. The fact that I can walk to my house from wherever I just had dinner and not have to sit in traffic.”
He was her husband. Something about that suddenly hit her directly in the chest. He was hers. At least right now he was. They were on their first date, but this was also their wedding night.
That filled her with heat and anticipation and an amount of happiness that should have concerned her, probably, and a surge of hell, yeah.
She reached out and ran her index finger over his wrist. Just that. A simple, not particularly sexual touch. But she had every right to touch him, didn’t she? To tease and tempt him. To seduce him.
She was never going to have a night like this again. She was going to take full advantage of it.
Grant didn’t
move a muscle, but his gaze heated. “I’m going to make you very happy to have to sit in traffic on the way back to the hotel.”
She gave him a slow smile. “You’d better.”
The waiter set the plate of cake down just then.
It looked absolutely as decadent as it had sounded.
“Oh wow.”
“I want this cake to be memorable,” Grant said. “Even if someone didn’t bake it especially for us the way you do at Buttered Up.”
She smiled, running her finger back and forth over his wrist. “Everything about tonight will be memorable.”
His hand tightened around the stem of his wineglass, and she felt a little thrill at the obvious reaction to her. He definitely affected her and knew it. She wanted to make an impression too.
They had two bedrooms in the suite. They could get one of the beds all sticky and messy with cake and then sleep in the other.
“So maybe we could—”
“Go to the ladies’ room.”
Her eyes widened at the tone in his voice. Firm, commanding. Hot.
“What?”
He shifted, leaning forward, sliding his wineglass to the side and capturing her hand that had been tracing back and forth over his wrist. His finger ran over her palm, the touch igniting her nerve endings from her hand to her toes. Her nipples hardened just from him running the tip of his finger over her heart line.
“Go to the ladies’ room, take your panties off, and take this—” He ran his other index finger through the thick chocolate frosting on the cake and held it up. “I want this on your nipples.”
Her eyes widened and her breathing caught. “And then what?”
“And then come back out here.”
“But—” She glanced around then leaned in so no one would overhear. “Pull my dress back up? With the frosting… there?”
“Yes.” He lifted a brow. “I’ll get the dress dry-cleaned.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, studying him. He was so gorgeous. And hot. And dirty. And fun. And this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. He’d just turned the tables on her—of course. This wasn’t going to be her seducing him after all. But how could she say no to this? She wanted him to think about this night as often as she would.
Josie wet her lips and pulled her hand from his. She stood, set her napkin next to her plate, smoothed her dress, then reached out and scooped a dollop of frosting off the cake. Then she headed for the ladies’ room without a look back.
But she could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the elegant dining room. Her stomach flipped and she felt herself smiling. This was more adventurous than she’d ever been. Yet it was still cake frosting. Something she knew very well.
That was funny and sweet and naughty and odd and perfect all at the same time.
She was alone in the restroom, fortunately. Typically, she would have taken a moment to appreciate the gleaming marble countertops and the ornately etched glass of the mirrors and the gorgeous gold fixtures. But all she could think about was the chocolate icing and how it was going to get all over her dress. And how she didn’t mind as much as she should have.
She slipped into one of the stalls and reached up for the hook at the back of her neck—the one Grant had undone in the car when he’d been teasing her with the three-minute challenge. Her bodice dipped, and she reached into her bra with her sticky, frosting-coated fingers. She painted the frosting on her nipples, shivering with desire as she did it. This was beyond crazy and weird and sexy. She realized it was only in part about playing with frosting. It was also Grant testing her to see how much she would do for him, how far she’d let him push her.
The answer—very far.
He was her greatest adventure. He was the escapade she was going to remember when she was eighty and thinking back on her life. She hoped a lot of wonderful things filled in the time between now and her eightieth birthday, but she knew that she’d always think of Grant and smile.
With the frosting on her nipples, feeling naughty and slightly uncomfortable, she pulled the dress back up with one hand. She couldn’t hook it that way, though, so holding the bodice up with one arm across her chest, she let herself back out of the stall and went to wash her hand. It was awkward, but she got cleaned up enough to redo the hook behind her neck before a woman came through the door.
They smiled at each other in the mirror, and Josie pretended to fix her hair as the woman went into one of the stalls. Once the door shut behind her, Josie quickly reached up under her skirt and pulled her panties off.
She hadn’t brought her purse with her so she had nowhere to put them. She looked around for an idea, but finally just balled them in her fist. She looked at herself in the mirror once more.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. She was panty-less, with frosting on her nipples, about to go back out and join her new husband for dessert. She grinned.
Best night ever.
14
Grant sucked in a deep breath as Jocelyn rejoined him at the table. She slid into her chair like a queen. Then she gave him a smile and reached over to put something in his hand.
Her thong.
He gripped it tightly and raised his other hand, signaling the waiter. “We’ll take the check now,” he told the man who appeared almost instantly, handing over his credit card. He didn’t need to see the bill.
Jocelyn giggled and his gut tightened. God, he wanted her. He’d never wanted a woman like this. It was actually making him crazy.
He didn’t know if he’d ever been with a woman who fascinated him the way she did. The simplest things made her happy. She appreciated everything from the fabric of the duvet on the bed to the fact that the butter pats on the table were in the shape of roses.
She was sweet and genuine and charming. She made him want to continually delight her. She was so in love with her hometown. She was so loyal to her friends and to her job. She did her work with her heart and barely worried about the money. And yet she’d gone into the ladies’ room at one of the best restaurants in Chicago and painted chocolate cake frosting on her nipples and taken her thong off. For him.
He loved these two sides to this woman.
He tucked her thong into his pocket, signed the credit card slip, and shoved his chair back. He held out a hand to her.
She smiled up at him as she took his hand and let him tug her to her feet.
He couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing her. It was too short, too superficial a touch, but he couldn’t not do it. Then he turned her and escorted her to the door.
They waited at the curb for the limo without talking. The driver had been parked only two blocks away so arrived quickly.
Grant helped Jocelyn into the back of the car, then leaned into the passenger side window. “Hey, Tyler.”
“Yes, Mr. Lorre?”
He liked Tyler. Tyler was his regular driver. He didn’t always work nights, but since Grant had been out of town, Tyler had been happy to drive Grant and Jocelyn to their wedding and then dinner.
“I need you to take the long way back to the hotel.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The really long way,” Grant added. “I want to show her the city. Take us by some cool stuff.”
“Got it.” Tyler was a Chicago boy, born and raised, so he could easily drive them past several sites.
If Jocelyn happened to be looking out the window while he got her naked in the back seat.
Grant climbed in with Jocelyn and shut the door. The partition was up, and they had the whole night.
“I told Tyler—”
But his wife climbed into his lap before he even finished the sentence.
His wife. The thought took the air out of his lungs.
Jocelyn cupped his face and kissed him. His hands settled on her hips, squeezing, pressing her against his already hard cock. She ground against him with a little moan.
Okay, so maybe Jocelyn didn’t care about the scenery. He’d bring her back to Chicago and show her around any time
she wanted. For right now, all he wanted to show her was how quickly he could make her come.
Kissing her deeply, he reached for the hook on her dress, pulling the bodice down, and unhooking her bra. He leaned back to look at her covered in smears of chocolate.
He thumbed her nipple. “See, your bra kept the dress clean anyway,” he said, meeting her gaze as he rolled the hard, sticky tip between his thumb and finger.
She nodded. “But I’d better not leave this car with one drop of chocolate on me, Mr. Lorre.”
“Absolutely not a problem, Mrs. Lorre.” He lowered his head, taking the chocolatey nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking until she was clean—and wriggling on his lap, pressing against his cock.
He moved to the other side and did the same, relishing the feel of her fingers sinking into his hair to hold him close.
“Grant,” she said, panting. “I need you.”
“There are so many more sweet inches of you to lick and suck though,” he said, kissing his way from her breast to her mouth.
He kissed her, letting her taste the chocolate from his tongue. When he let her up for air, she gave him a dreamy, dazed look.
“And if you’re going to lick and suck all of me, you’ll have to lay me down,” she said, her voice husky. “But I want to watch the city lights out the back window of this limo while you’re buried deep inside me.”
Heat and lust seized him and he squeezed her hips. Okay, so maybe she did care a little about the scenery.
Or maybe she just enjoyed making him crazy.
Either way, he pushed her back just far enough that he could unbutton and unzip his pants and push his boxers out of the way.
Her hand was there, wrapping around his length before he got the condom out of his pocket.
His breath hissed out as she squeezed and stroked and he let his head fall back against the seat. “Damn, Jocelyn.”
“Oh, I really like the way you sound right now,” she told him.
How this woman, the one stroking him like it was her job, saying things like she wanted him buried inside her while they looked at the city lights, was the same one who made caterpillar cupcakes and got teary eyed when someone loved a graduation cake she’d decorated was beyond him. But she was one and the same.
Making Whoopie Page 19
