Sweet Secrets

by Rhonda Sheree

  “Thanks. I suppose if I did have a shop I’d want people to become repeat customers, not just for the tasty treats but for how it makes them feel.”

  “Let’s see,” Grayson says, “I saw one that said smile, kiss, love, chill, listen.”

  “Kinda corny, right?” I ask.

  “Not at all. I’m ready to try this one.”

  “Ah. That one is white chocolate raspberry.”

  Grayson bites down into the cupcake. His reaction is all the affirmation I need. He chuckles as he chews and winks at me.

  “You like the filling?”

  “Mm-hm,” he says. “That was a surprise, too. This cream is so good.”

  “That cream is called white chocolate frosting.”

  “Callia, you’ve got to do something with this. People would buy this from you.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. I’m going to buy some from you. I need to talk to my partner, of course, but I’m serious about you selling these in my stores.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” I put the plate back on the edge of the tub and relax on the bench. I lean my head up and look at the stars. “I don’t have workers or a bakery. Hell, I don’t even have a business plan.”

  “Lots of successful people in the food industry got their start in their own kitchens. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I do have a state-of-the-art kitchen. And Gail would help out in any way she could.”

  “I couldn’t take Gail from you.”

  “I wouldn’t let you take Gail from me, but she’d help if you asked her to, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like to pin my hopes on anything.”

  “Because you’re afraid of being disappointed.”

  He doesn’t know about the school job that turned out to be a major disappointment. I hate pinning my hopes on anything beyond my control.

  Grayson reaches out and takes my hand that’s turned wrinkly beneath the hot water.

  “I’m sorry I disappointed you,” he says.

  “Why did you?”

  “It was a bad time for me,” Grayson says. “My dad had his own reasons for leaving in a hurry. Personal reasons that I can’t tell you about.”

  “Yeah, but that was after prom. You stood me up, Gray.”

  “I know. And I wish I could tell you why, Callia, but I just can’t. You have to believe me when I say you were the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”

  “You didn’t call.” I look at him, hoping to find the truth behind those eyes. All I see is conflict and I wonder what exactly is the cause of it.

  “No.” Grayson drains his glass and sets it down. “I didn’t.”

  He gets up and moves to the opposite side of the tub. It feels like he’s a mile away from me although in reality he’s only a few feet.

  “I’d better head to bed. I have a big day tomorrow,” I say. My legs make no attempt to move.

  “I’m going to miss you at breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “What?”

  “Why not? I don’t really know these people. I met Jeff on the plane and we had a fun conversation and he invited me over. I promised him I’d pop in for a few minutes tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to barge in if this guy is trying to make the moves on you.”

  I kick my leg up to spray water on him but don’t even come close. “He’s married.”

  “So are half the men your sister dates, from what I hear.”

  “Breakfast is at nine,” I say, purposely avoiding all talk of Carmen. “We need to leave at quarter till.”

  “I want some of your product in my store next weekend.”

  “Wait a second. You want me to bake a few items and then you put it inside your display case, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So when people go in and order up one of my cupcakes, they’re not going to know they’re purchasing Callia’s cupcakes. They’re only going to know they got a damned fine cupcake from your coffee shop.”

  A smile begins to emerge on Grayson’s lips. “Are we about to have a conversation about branding?”

  “I don’t really have a brand, now do I?” I say and stand up to be more on his level. I’m still a good seven inches shorter than him. “I’m just thinking that if I wanted to have some kind of bakery or sell my items, I don’t know, somewhere, it would be nice if they knew whose baked goods they were getting. It’d be nice if they could find my products in multiple locations.”

  “I see. For someone who isn’t interested in running a business, you sure are revealing some business acumen.”

  “So?”

  “So I think you need to think of a name for your business and then think of a name for your brand. I can set up a meeting between you and my lawyer and I’m sure your business will be up and running within a couple of weeks.”

  “That soon?”

  “Yeah. Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t see myself as a business owner, but I do love to bake,” I say. “And if I can make some cash for it while I look for a real job, all the better.”

  “A real job?” he asks and lightly touches my chin. This entire conversation seems to be amusing him for some reason.

  “Yeah, you know. With a guaranteed paycheck and health benefits.”

  “Hmm…” He says but from the look on his face I don’t think he’s heard a word I’ve said. “Callia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” he says. I open my mouth to say something as equally stupid as what I’ve just said but my words are swallowed up in Grayson’s kiss. His mouth is better than I remembered it. Full lips suckle my bottom lip, then his tongue, still sweet from the lingering taste of raspberry, slips into my mouth and moves in a slow, tentative motion. I feel Grayson’s hand slide down to my lower back, just north of my behind. I press my wet breasts against his bare chest and hear his breath quicken. I have dreamt of this man’s kiss for years and the dreams, sweet as they were, could not come close to the real thing. We stand embraced, kissing and clinging to one another and I feel my temperature rising even hotter than the hundred-degree water. I feel deliciously drowsy and don’t know if it’s the effects of the alcohol, the hot water, Grayson’s kiss, or a combination of all of the above. And I don’t care. I want to devour this man. It isn’t until his back tenses that I realize I’ve been digging my nails into his skin. After a few more seconds, he pulls his lips away and leans his forehead on mine while holding my head close.

  “What are we doing?” he asks.

  “Kissing.”

  Grayson chuckles. “You’re a very literal woman, Callia.”

  “I guess.”

  “You know what I think we’re doing?” he asks.

  “What?” I asking, loving the smell of wine and white chocolate on his breath.

  “I think,” he begins, then starts planting kisses down the side of my face, “I’m falling in love again.”

  His lips cover mine again. I let myself get pulled into the moment. And even though I love the feel of his lips on mine, and his flesh against my flesh, a tiny question nags in the recesses of my mind and I fight to quiet the voice. But the question is as real as his hungry mouth on mine.

  Can I trust Grayson Lane again?

  Chapter 24

  “Stop,” I say. The command has no conviction coming out of the mouth. Even to my ears it sounds more like a moan. Grayson’s hands have slipped inside my back pockets and I can feel him unclench his full hands at my half-hearted request.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this. Not here.”

  He looks around as though he just realized where we are. “What’s wrong with here?”

  “Someone might see us.”

  I remove his arms from around my waist and float back to my seat on the bench where a plume of water from the jets pounds my lower back. I imagine what it must fee
l like to have Grayson thrust his body inside me while the powerful jets surge into my back and a wave of near-orgasmic pleasure courses through me. I move to the side of the jet.

  “No one is going to see us. Your mother is asleep and even if she wasn’t, her bedroom doesn’t face the back. And I’m sure Gail is sleeping by this time.”

  “I can’t,” I say.

  Grayson lets out a sigh then wades over, picks up the bottle of champagne, and drinks directly from the bottle. Then he pours the liquid over his head.

  “Gray! What are you doing?” He shakes his head like a wet dog, wipes his face, then pours champagne on top of my ponytail. “Are you nuts?” I shout but I can’t stop laughing. I splash him with water and the next thing I know we’re in a pretty fierce water fight. Soon we’re both panting like exhausted children.

  “Is this how you always treat women who tell you no?”

  “You deserved to be punished for being a tease.” Grayson pops a cupcake into his mouth. Then picks up another, dots my nose with frosting, then waits for me to open my mouth. When I do he pops it into my mouth, making sure to smear my chin with frosting.

  I must say, the cupcake is to die for. Maybe I really could sell them.

  “I am far from being a tease. I wanted to but…”

  “But?”

  “The time isn’t right.”

  “When will the time be right?”

  “When I can trust you.”

  “So, what? You want a courtship? A vow of chastity or something?”

  “I want to hear you beg,” I say teasingly. “And I want to believe without a doubt that I’m the only woman you’re begging for.”

  “Interesting,” he says as he stands in the middle of the hot tub, bubbling water and steam rising around his bare torso, making him look nothing less than a freaking sculpture. “I want to hear you beg, too.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. I want to hear you beg for mercy.”

  Before I know what’s happening, Grayson has picked me up and put me over his shoulder. Dripping wet, he walks the length of the pool and back into the house.

  “You’d better let me down, Gray. You’re going to drop me.”

  “I’m not going to drop you until I’ve reached my bed.”

  “No,” I say. The word comes out sounding more like the you’ve got to be kidding me variety and I am ashamed by how utterly easy I’m being. Surely, I’m not going to sleep with him tonight. I make guys wait two to three months, after I’ve had several steak dinners and wine spritzers on their dime. No way is Grayson about to score so easily.

  Grayson takes stairs I didn’t even know existed two at a time. “Not quite as light as you look,” he says and pretends to really huff—at least, I think he’s pretending. Nevertheless, I swat him on the behind—it’s as firm as I’d imagined.

  “I’m going to scream,” I threaten.

  “If I handle my business right, then yes, you will.”

  * * *

  Grayson swings open one of the double doors to his bedroom and heads straight to the bathroom. I just barely glance the room before my feet land on the bare floor when Grayson puts me down.

  He makes a big thing about rubbing his shoulder. “How much do you weigh?”

  “I’m not above smacking a guy.”

  “I’m kidding. You felt like a kitten on my shoulder.”

  “Good answer.”

  “Clean towels in there. Robe over there. Shower. You look like you’re freezing.”

  “What gave it away?” I say as I hug my arms to myself.

  Grayson smirks and lets his eyes drop to my breasts.

  “You, Mr. Lane, are no gentleman.”

  “No, Miss Cole, I’m not. When you’re done, I’ll go next.”

  He turns to leave.

  “You’re not going to—”

  Grayson turns back. “To what?”

  “Well, I just thought…” I cringe under his playful eyes. He seems to relish my embarrassment.

  “Thought that I’d join you?”

  I shrug in response. I cannot articulate any word that shows just how much I want this to happen. He’ll think I’m easy. Which, for him, I guess, I totally am.

  “I’d like to run back out and bring the food back in.”

  “I covered it up with the dome,” I say. “It should be fine.”

  Grayson chuckles. It’s a low, sexy rhythm that makes me want to throw myself at him. Down, girl, down.

  “You definitely get an A for enthusiasm.” He comes over and gives me another kiss on the lips, short but sweeter than chocolate frosting. “I’ll be back before you’re done.”

  * * *

  What a liar, I think as I enter the bedroom. Grayson isn’t back by the time I’m dressed in his robe, which gives me time to snoop. His room is large; a step divides the sleeping area from the sitting area. On his nightstand, I find the usual suspects: box of tissues, a half-filled glass of water, a pair of glasses. But there’s also a notepad and pen. I’m tempted to snoop but I’d probably just find notes about another business book he’s writing and—happy though I am for his successful career—I’m not all that interested in business books. Now if it were a hot, steamy romance, that’d be different. I smile at the thought of Grayson writing romance. I turn my eyes to the fireplace and notice that a fire is burning. Not that the man doesn’t know a thing or two about romance…

  The room is masculine. Dark woods and gray accoutrements. It smells vaguely of sandalwood and I look around for a deodorizer but can’t find one. The pictures on the wall are artistic, color coordinated, and probably selected by a professional decorator. But the room isn’t all that neat. Heaps of books litter his nightstands. His swim trunks are on the floor, making me wonder if he ventured outside naked. In the sitting area, a suit is thrown over the back of a silk-lined sofa. I walk over to the suit. I look around, needlessly, since I’m alone. Then I pick up the suit jacket and hold it to my nose.

  Oh, my. It’s Grayson’s, all right. And it’s a heady, masculine scent that makes me light-headed.

  The door opens before I can drop the jacket.

  “What are you doing?” Grayson asks.

  Think fast, Cole. “I got tired of waiting for you so I thought I’d tidy up a bit.”

  “I’m giving those to Gail to take to the cleaners. Here, I’ll take them.”

  Grayson takes his suit into his closet and returns, looking utterly distracted. He’s slipped on a pair of jeans but he’s still shirtless. It’s a very good look on him. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Can I get you anything while you’re waiting?”

  I shake my head. “Are you okay? You look weird.”

  “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “We’ll talk in a minute. I need to get cleaned up.”

  When he’s gone into the bathroom, I plop down dejectedly on the sofa. The mood is gone. All the better, I suppose. Nothing good would’ve come from us having sex. It would’ve only complicated matters. It’s not like we’re even dating. Grayson abandoned me. Forgot about me. And probably fooled around with my sister. The thought of it angers me, which only goes to prove that having sex is 100 percent the wrong thing for us.

  Grayson returns from the bathroom looking pretty much the same way he did when he walked in. Except now an aroma of scented soap follows him. He starts to move the furniture away from the fireplace, but he doesn’t say a word. I get out of the chair I’m in and move it, too, even though I wasn’t asked. Grayson gets a blanket from the foot of the bed and spreads it on the floor in front of the fireplace. I like where this is going. He gets another from a nearby closet.

  “Grab a couple of pillows from the bed,” he says.

  “Yes, captain.” He smiles and looks at me for the first time since his return. “Ah, signs of life.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. We ease between the blankets—which feel like what I imagine a chinchilla coat feels like, richly luxurious—and lie parallel in front of the fire. “It’s just that, the s
trangest thing just happened.”

  “Grayson,” I say. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  We lie side by side, looking at the ceiling. He turns to me. “Why not?”

  “Because it isn’t the smart thing for us to do. And I still feel very betrayed by you.” I paused. “I found your half of our necklace under Carmen’s bed.”

  “What? I don’t even know where your sister lives.”

  “I mean, when we were in high school.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot you’re still living in 1977. Those were the good ol’ years.”

  “We weren’t in high school in 1977.”

  “No, but it was a damn long time ago and you should let it go, Callia. Move on.”

  “It’s hard when someone’s betrayed you. You should know how I feel. Have you gotten over feeling abandoned by your mother?”

  “Instead of selling cupcakes, maybe you should sell yourself as the new and improved buzzkill.”

  “I’m serious. Have you gotten over your mother leaving?”

  “I’ve learned to deal with my abandonment issues.”

  “You have?” I sit up and pull the blanket off. It’s way too hot with the thick robe I’m wearing. “Then why have you purchased this huge house? Why be so accommodating by letting us stay here indefinitely?”

  “Because I’m a nice guy?”

  “Be honest,” I say.

  “Because I’m not a nice guy?” he says.

  “Why did I find your necklace in Carmen’s room?”

  Grayson drapes his arm over his eyes. “I was there.”

  Finally, the truth. “When?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t even remember when I lost the damn necklace. I never wore it. I kept it in my pocket. It must have fallen out.”

  “Why were you there?”

  Grayson looked at me. “We kissed. Is that what you want to know? Your sister tried to seduce me, we kissed, that was all that happened.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it’d go over well.”

  “Carmen.” I shake my head. “Always wants what isn’t hers.”