In the Mood for Love: A Cupcake Lovers Novel (The Cupcake Lovers)

by Beth Ciotta

  “There was a post,” Rocky said. “A weird post.”

  Sam tensed. “What did it say?”

  “Nothing overtly creepy,” Rae said. “But there was a taunting tone.”

  “It was on Harper’s personal page,” Rocky said. “He, she, whoever, wanted to know why Harper was dragging her feet in Sugar Creek. It, he, she said—”

  “‘Shouldn’t you be packing? Time’s ticking,’” Rae said.

  “Time’s ticking,” Rocky echoed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I wouldn’t have given it a second thought,” Rae said. “Chalking it up to an impatient client. A nervous actor with an upcoming publicity tour. Someone who wanted her back in Hollywood pronto. I know how that rolls.”

  “But the attached profile pic was of an illustrated soldier with a rifle,” Rocky said. “And he/she didn’t use a name. He used a moniker. ‘The Avenger.’ It gave me chills. I told Jayce about it, but he pointed out the popularity of that superhero movie. Said it was probably something along the same lines as what Rae just mentioned.”

  “Which is why I wrote it off last night,” Rae said. “But then I woke up thinking about the way Harper had holed up at the farm the first few days she was back in town. How she had everything delivered in. How she sounded distracted and tense when I spoke to her on the phone. And then Rocky mentioned that she’d seen that weird post and we got talking and thinking…”

  “What if a disgruntled client or boyfriend’s been hassling her?” Rocky asked. “What if that’s what spurred her to leave L.A.?”

  Sam knew Harper had left L.A. because of the spa shooting. He knew she’d holed up due to agoraphobia. He didn’t fill Rocky and Rae in because he knew Harper was embarrassed about her phobia. Nor did he tell them about the threat of deportation. That would spur talk of visas and green cards and/or questions about why she was reluctant to return to her native country.

  “Shouldn’t you be packing? Time’s ticking.”

  Was that post referring to Harper’s impending deportation? She’d led Sam to believe that her aversion to Canada was linked specifically to the bad memories associated with her former fiancé. He flashed back on Harper’s initial anxiety attack and the moment when he, too, had wondered if she were being stalked or threatened. Was there more to her story?

  Sam palmed his phone, cursing himself for not keeping up on those social sites. He’d peeked in for a while—intrigued but not hooked. Far from addicted. He’d spent the night submerged in Harper, in the flesh-and-blood woman. It hadn’t crossed his mind to check the Internet in the middle of the freaking night.

  “You won’t find it,” Rocky said. “I wanted to show Jayce this morning, but it’s gone.

  “Either Harper or the person who wrote it deleted the post,” Rae said. “Which seems kind of fishy either way.”

  Sam skimmed Harper’s page for more recent posts. No sign of the Avenger.

  “Has Harper said anything to you about being hassled?” Rocky asked.

  “No,” Sam said.

  “Maybe we’ve watched too many movies,” Rae said. “It’s probably nothing.”

  “But what if it’s something?” Rocky asked

  “She seemed fine today,” Rae said. “Happy even.”

  “Maybe she never saw the post,” Rocky said. “It was there and gone in the middle of the night.”

  Except Sam and Harper had been awake a good portion of the night, talking about Andrew. He thought back. He didn’t recall seeing her phone, but she could have scrolled those sites before she’d come downstairs. If she had seen that post and deleted it, if she was being hassled, why was she keeping that news from Sam?

  He thought about the feeling that had bugged him last night, the feeling of being watched. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t so keen on Harper being alone at the house.

  “Probably nothing,” he said to the ladies in hopes of soothing their misgivings. “But thanks for the heads-up. By the way, where is Jayce?” he asked as he prepped for a getaway.

  “Getting a cup of coffee with Luke,” Rocky said. “Why? Are you going to ask him to do some cybersnooping?”

  “If you don’t,” Rae said, “I might.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Harper couldn’t remember the last time she’d been surrounded by such genuine, heartfelt joy. Friends and family who’d gathered to get the first peek at Chloe and Dev’s little girl. Lily, they’d named her. After a flower, like Daisy. The core Monroes, as well as Chloe’s father, had been especially emotional. Their tears and smiles as they’d fawned over baby Lily had been overwhelming for Harper. She’d missed out on family celebrations. She’d missed out on family.

  As she drove toward Sugar Creek, she imagined a repeat performance, the same gathering of souls, the same jubilation when Rae and Luke welcomed their baby into the world. Birthdays and anniversaries within this large and tight circle of family were probably a big deal, a reason for large and chaotic celebrations. Did they know how lucky they were?

  No one, aside from Harper and Sam and Paula’s parents, knew but, as of tomorrow evening, she’d be a member of this large and tight circle. She’d be a wife and a mother and included in Sunday dinners and family barbecues and maybe the occasional lunch or shopping spree with Chloe and Rocky and Rae. Standing in the hospital hall, praising Sam’s baking abilities and ribbing him just a little about his good looks, Harper had gotten a taste of what it would be like to truly bond with some of the Cupcake Lovers. Not just as their publicist, but as a friend, and in some instances, family. It was something she wanted to experience even if only for a while. Sometimes Harper felt as though she’d been born to robots, both parents missing the “caring” chip. She’d never been abused, but she’d always been ignored. What she couldn’t get at home, she went after at school. Attention.

  She’d gravitated toward clubs. Drama, journalism, media. She wanted to belong—to something, to someone. She’d made friends, lots of friends. Although looking back, they were more like friendly acquaintances. Too many to connect with too deeply. Too involved on too many levels. Always striving for acceptance and some form of adoration. Even after she’d signed on at Spin Twin Cities, she’d spread herself too thin.

  And then she’d met Andrew and he’d been her hope, her promise of a family. Her own family. They’d have the perfect wedding and then three or four or maybe five children. She’d be a caring mom and he’d be a caring dad. But then Andrew had pushed her away, threatened her dreams, and challenged her spirit.

  If only she’d been stronger, wiser, maybe she could have helped Andrew.

  Or maybe not.

  Harper couldn’t change the past or predict the future, but she could live in the now. Now she had a shot at sampling her dream through Sam. Through his children and their extended family. What had started out as a business agreement was fast becoming a friendly alliance with potential. She was still scared of failing, but she wouldn’t stand a chance if she didn’t at least try.

  Harper’s mind spun faster than the wheels of her car. What if, what if, what if? She turned onto Main Street, noted the stores. She thought about her butterfly room—Mina’s—and the green room—Ben’s. Mina would stuff her room with fairy tales and plush animals. Ben would organize his room with manga novels and superheroes. Harper wanted to contribute to the transformation. She wanted to buy them gifts. And for the first time in weeks, she didn’t want to shop online.

  Just as she parked in front of J. T. Monroe’s Department Store, her phone pinged with a text.

  Sam.

  U OK?

  She smiled as her heels hit the sidewalk. HUNKY DORY

  HEADING HOME.

  YOURS OR MINE?

  OURS.

  Her heart skipped and so did Harper. SEE U SOON

  * * *

  Sam would have made it to the Rothwell Farm in record time if he hadn’t been pulled over for speeding. Not a first, but the first in very long time. He was pissed about losing time. Pissed about the freaking high f
ine. But mostly he was anxious about Harper. He couldn’t kick the feeling that there was more to her troubles than she’d confided and that that trouble had followed her to Sugar Creek.

  Pulling up to the house and not seeing her car damn near stopped his heart.

  He jogged up the steps, let himself in, called out her name. Silence smacked his ears, clouded perspective. She’d had a head start. She’d said, “See you soon.”

  Goddamn. What the hell?

  He snagged his phone. No texting. Voice. He needed to hear her voice. And when he did, when she answered sounding perfect and calm, he dropped onto the sofa and pressed two fingers to his pounding left temple. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Shopping.”

  “In a store?”

  “Why do you sound so shocked? And angry?”

  “Not angry.” Furious. “Relieved.” Irrationally pissed. “You didn’t tell me you were stopping so I expected you to be here.”

  “And I wasn’t. So you called because you were worried. And you’re angry because I’m fine and shopping. Your mind traveled a darker path. What if I’d had a panic attack while driving? Or blown a tire? Or hit a deer? What if I was broken and bleeding in a ditch?”

  “Something like that.” He willed his pulse and temper in line.

  “But it’s nothing like that. I stopped on a whim. I’m fine, Sam. Better than fine. I shopped in a store, in public, and I didn’t even twitch. No cataclysmic thoughts. No paralyzing fears. All I felt was joy, pure joy. If some tragic soul had come gunning in the toy section, I would have died with a smile on my face. Wait until you see what I got for Ben and Mina! I just checked out and I’m walking toward my car. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes, give or take. And when I get there, I’ll make it up to you. Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for caring.”

  They signed off and he stared at his phone, gathering his calm, assessing her mood. She’d braved her debilitating fears to shop for his children. She sounded happy. Cheerful. But also a little manic. His heart scraped against his chest. He didn’t love Harper a little. He loved her a lot. He felt a little, no, a lot coldcocked. He knew without a doubt that he was getting in deep with a woman who would never be easy. A woman with issues he’d only just begun to uncover. Harper Day was obsessive-compulsive. He’d bet on it. And that was just one of her quirks. Instead of scaring him away, it made him dig in. Even though she hid it from the world, Harper was a wounded soul. He wanted to help. He wanted her happy.

  He imagined her walking through the front door, arms loaded with gifts. He imagined a smile to match the cheer he’d just heard in her voice. He wanted her to ride that wave of euphoria to Vegas and to own it throughout their wedding ceremony. He was thrilled that she’d conquered her fears enough to shop in public, but how would she fare in a bigger city, in the crowded casinos? He wanted her to obsess on the good what ifs, not the bad. Just long enough to get them to Vegas and back. Just long enough to ensure her wedding day was blissful, not stressful. Yes, they were marrying in haste and for practical purposes, but Sam wanted her to equate their alliance with hope, not fear.

  In her mind, she’d failed Andrew, and she’d told Sam she didn’t want him to love her, because she feared failing him. Why was she still wallowing in guilt after three years? Why hadn’t she come to terms? Was someone fanning the flames? Casting blame? Holding a grudge? She feared random acts of violence. She feared Canada, returning to Canada. Was she running from bad memories … or maybe a bad person?

  “Why are you dragging your feet in Sugar Creek? Shouldn’t you be packing? Time’s ticking.”

  The Avenger, whoever he was, knew Harper was in Sugar Creek. Even though Sam hadn’t seen that post for himself, he couldn’t get it out of his brain. He’d been set to ask Harper straight-out if she was being hassled, but in light of her cheerful state he didn’t want to open that door. Either she was oblivious or in denial. Either way, something was off. Sam felt it in his gut and his gut was never wrong.

  He wanted to know more about Harper’s past. He wanted to know if she was being bullied and, if so, if the bastard was dangerous or simply an ass. Was he in Canada? Los Angeles? Was there a chance he’d show up on her freaking doorstep in Sugar Creek? Within the next week Ben and Mina would be living in this house, too. And that was the thought that pushed Sam over and down the slippery slope.

  He skimmed the contacts in his phone, telling himself he wasn’t invading Harper’s privacy, he was protecting her. Protecting the kids. He didn’t feel an ounce of hesitation or regret when he connected with Jayce Bello. Rocky’s husband. Sam’s cousin by marriage. A former cop turned private detective who’d launched a successful Internet business that specialized in sniffing out cyberbullies.

  “Need a favor,” Sam said, explaining the situation, ensuring confidentiality, and voicing parameters.

  Jayce listened, commented, and put Sam’s mind at ease with two words. “On it.”

  Five minutes later, Harper blew into the house like a sonic burst of sunshine. She looked beautiful. She looked happy. Sam’s heart took a massive hit as she made a beeline for him, slamming into his arms, shopping bags and all. She kissed him fast and hard, smiling, laughing. Laughing, for crissake.

  “Do you know how much fun it is shopping for kids?” she asked, escaping his hold to dump her booty on the sofa. “I wanted to buy them each something for their new rooms. Just one thing. Something for them from me. Something to make them feel welcome in their new home. But one thing led to another and I couldn’t decide, so I got them all.”

  Sam watched, entranced, as she emptied the bags and showcased her purchases. A sketch pad, colored pencils, two comic books, and an action figure of Ironman. A poster from one of the latest superhero flicks and a futuristic-looking reading lamp. For Mina she’d snagged a plush unicorn, a play fairy-tale castle, a wand that made tinkling noises, and a blinking tiara.

  “I saw a beanbag chair that I loved, but they didn’t have it in purple and…” Harper trailed off, wand in one hand, tiara in the other. “Did I go overboard? Step out of bounds?”

  “You did great,” was all he said. Any more and he’d be gushing about how thoughtful she was and how much it meant to him that she wanted Ben and Mina to feel at home. That she didn’t mind filling the rooms she’d had decorated in a specific retro style with whimsical and fantastical kid stuff. Sam pulled her back into his arms. “They aren’t even here yet and you’re already spoiling them.”

  “I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I love that you couldn’t help yourself.”

  She was on a shopping high and he was high on her. The air crackled as Sam angled for a kiss. His blood sizzled as their tongues dueled, as her hands roamed his shoulders, his back. When her deft fingers breezed up the hem of his tee, when she palmed his bare back—skin on skin—Sam wanted to feel her, too. All of her.

  “What would you say if I said I want you naked?” he asked. “Here. Now.”

  “I’d say stop talking. Start stripping.”

  She already had his shirt shoved to his chest. He pulled it off then went to work on her dress—untying the sash and peeling the blousy fabric over her head. Now her ponytail was a little crooked and her beautiful face a lot flushed. Her blue eyes danced with mischief and hunger, tempting Sam to take her fast and hard. He knew her thoughts mirrored his. Once they married, once Ben and Mina moved into this house, there wouldn’t be a lot of room for spontaneous sex, let alone kink. And even though Sam liked his sex slow and intimate, he couldn’t deny the equal thrill of down and dirty with Harper.

  Bending her over the sofa came to mind until he caught sight of the toys, which made him think of the kids.

  “Upstairs,” Harper said, working the buttons of his fly even as she tugged him in that direction.

  He waylaid her hands, throwing her over his shoulder and whisking up the stairs. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed it, but when he set her to her feet, she was braless. She backe
d into the bedroom wearing nothing but a black lace thong, shiny black heels, and a naughty smile. His mouth went as dry as dust but he managed, “You’re beautiful.”

  “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  Sam shoved his jeans and shorts down his hips.

  Harper swooped in and knocked him back on the bed before he got the chance to free his ankles.

  Sam was entranced with her freaking hot body, her gorgeous face, and the raw lust sizzling between them. Lust laced with affection. “Leave the heels,” he ground out as she peeled off her thong.

  Her impossibly saucy smile turned wicked as she straddled his torso and shoved his arms over his head, his hands into the pillows, similar to what he’d done to her the night before. But then he felt a silky band around his wrist, craned his head and saw her lashing him to the bedpost with black stockings. He didn’t know where she’d pulled them from. He didn’t care. What he knew was she’d turned dominant and he’d let her have her fun because, he knew from experience, she was going to blow his mind among other things. And he knew when this was over he’d turn the tables and slow things down. There’d be that intimate connection, and she’d be a step closer to falling in love with Sam. Blood flowed south at the thought, making him granite hard.

  For Harper.

  She tightened the stockings, incapacitating his hands although he didn’t need his hands to make her squirm.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked after nipping his earlobe. “I’m the one in charge.”

  “Enjoy it while you can, baby.”

  She cocked a challenging brow. “I’ll have you begging for release.”

  He nipped her lush lower lip then suckled. Then smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “You sure about this?”

  “Not sure if it’s a great idea, but I think it’s the right thing to do,” Harper said. “Besides, you already spoke to the kids. We can’t back out now.”

  “Yeah, well. Can’t say I didn’t work up an appetite.” Sam winked at Harper then keyed the ignition.