Twelve color pictures from her website of some of the most elaborate cakes she’d made that year hung in the window, all framed with lights.
“Gideon...this is...awesome.”
“I thought so, too. How could someone not want one of your cakes? The website address is listed at the bottom of each one, too.”
Calla shook her head, barely feeling the cold as she stared at her bright, lively windows. The pictures were definitely eye-catching from the sidewalk, and even from the street.
“You’re brilliant. How could I have missed putting pictures of cakes in the window? I have the catalog in here on the counter, but I never considered this.”
“Well, it was one of Diedre’s ideas, and she is brilliant. You can’t think of everything, Calla. You have a lot to deal with here, making these cakes.”
“Remind me to send your sister a thank-you. This is very sweet, Gideon,” she said again, feeling a little choked up.
Calla had felt alone in her career since she’d started out. While she had friends, they were also often her competitors. Her family was far away, and supported her in a general sense, but not like this. No one had ever done anything like this for her. Even as she stood there, people stopped to check out the window and pointed to which cakes they liked best.
They went back inside, and Calla turned to Gideon, giving him a spontaneous hug. It didn’t matter to her if anyone was watching.
“I did have fun today. I’ll have to get here a little earlier tomorrow to finish, but this really was wonderful.”
“I’m glad,” he said, loosening the bun she’d pulled her hair back into and running his fingers through it in a way that lit up her nerve endings as brightly as the shop.
“Maybe we could get some dinner and head back to my place?”
“Sounds great. I’m starving,” he said with a chuckle, backing away.
Calla missed his touch when he let go. Oh, no. That wasn’t good. She had to be tired—she was feeling far more warm and fuzzy than she should. This was only a fling, only sex. And Gideon was just being nice, helping her with the shop.
“Me, too, really,” she said with a smile, closing up and grabbing her coat. “It’s been a long time since lunch.”
As they walked out onto the street, Gideon didn’t let go of her hand.
“So, you know the city and the food better than I do. Any preference?”
“It’s too late for a lot of restaurants if we don’t have reservations, especially this time of year, but I have a friend who runs a small place in Spanish Harlem where you can get the best burrito in the city.”
“Better than that place on Rudd St. in Houston?”
“Oh, man, way better,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No comparison.”
She knew the spot he meant; it was one of the places cops ate regularly because it was open all night. It had a decent menu for a take-out place, but nothing like Diego’s.
“Let’s go, then,” he said jovially.
“We should take a cab—it’s in East Harlem, and probably not a place you want to leave your rental car,” she said, letting go of his hand as she stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi with an earsplitting whistle.
The yellow cab appeared at the curb, screeching to a halt.
“Wow,” Gideon said, holding the door for her as they got in. “That was impressive. I tried to grab one a few times today, and it took me three tries.”
“It depends on the time of day, the weather, and if they are on duty or not. And a good strong whistle doesn’t hurt. One of the useful things my brothers taught me to do.”
Gideon was sure a nice pair of legs helped, too.
The ride was fast and furious, and Calla let Gideon keep her close in the back of the cab. Far too soon, the cabbie pulled up to the curb again.
“Are you sure this is it?” Gideon asked, looking around as they paid and got out of the cab.
Calla laughed and took his arm. “Yes, quite sure.”
A short ways down the street, she turned him into an alley and opened a door on the side, where the spicy scents of peppers and cumin met them and made her mouth water.
“Awesome, there’s a table open,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a corner in the back.
The small cantina was crowded and alive with chatter as they claimed what seemed to be the last table in the place. Calla slid up onto the raised seat, victorious.
“I wouldn’t have expected this from the outside,” Gideon said, looking around in appreciation at the warm brick walls decorated with authentic Mexican textiles and other art. “It smells like heaven in here.”
“There are a lot of places like this in the city. Real estate is expensive and hard to come by, so small hidden gems like this are everywhere.”
“And you know the owner?”
“Yes. Diego is the head chef, as well. He grew up in this neighborhood.”
As soon as she said it, her friend appeared at the edge of the kitchen and spotted her. He smiled, heading directly toward her. Calla met him halfway with a hearty hug.
“Calla, what a wonderful surprise.”
“I have a friend visiting from Texas. I couldn’t let him leave the city without tasting your amazing burritos.”
Calla lead Diego back to the table and she saw Gideon watching them, his eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tight.
“Gideon, this is Diego Jones, the owner and the chef. And the guy who saved my butt in sauces back in school.”
“Nice to meet you, Gideon,” Diego said heartily, shaking Gideon’s hand. “Dinner is on the house tonight. I got my hands on some fresh stone crab today, and I’m using it for late-night special burritos. Do you like seafood?”
Calla smiled. Diego was one of the warmest and most generous people she knew, and it came out in his personality and his cooking.
“A crab burrito?” Gideon said, somewhat skeptically.
Calla squeezed Diego’s arm as she levered herself back up into her chair. “Trust me, you won’t want to miss it.”
“Bring it on, then,” Gideon said with another slight smile.
“I hope you’ll enjoy it. Calla, you need to not be such a stranger.”
Diego kissed her cheek before being called by another table; he backed away with a smile.
“Believe me, you won’t ever find any food like what you are about to have here. His combinations of flavors and textures are mind-blowing.”
Gideon nodded. “You two seem...close.”
“We are. I’ve always been more of a baker than a cook, and I met Diego in a course on sauces. I was botching it entirely. He saved my bacon...or my sauce, I suppose. He spent a lot of time out of class helping me perfect my technique.”
“For sauce?”
“Well, yeah, what else?”
“It certainly is a popular place,” Gideon commented as a server delivered two huge, colorful margaritas to their table.
Calla watched him touch the glass, picking up a strange vibe. He was tense, suddenly quiet, and even a bit surly.
Was Gideon jealous?
And why did that idea make her have to fight a female sense of satisfaction? She and Gideon weren’t an item. They weren’t even in a relationship. In a few days he’d be gone.
She was probably imagining his reaction. He was very likely just tired.
“Calla? Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. I was just thinking about this place. He doesn’t even advertise, which is amazing,” Calla said wistfully. “He has a terrific product, good food and word spreads about things like that.”
“You have a terrific product, too. But he seems to cater to a local area, like you said. He grew up here. He can feed fifty people at a time, every night. You can only make one cake at a time. It’s comple
tely different.”
“You’re right. I lose perspective sometimes.”
Like right now? It felt so good to confide in Gideon. To share her burdens and have someone’s support. She could easily lose perspective if she didn’t take care.
“It will work out. You’re too talented for it not to,” he added, pulling her hand up to his lips.
Calla shivered at the touch of his mouth on her skin, and relented.
“Probably a hundred talented chefs fail here every day,” she said realistically.
“You won’t be one of them,” he said, holding her gaze and flicking his tongue out to taste the back of her pinky finger. That scrambled her thoughts immediately.
Their food was delivered just in time to divert their attention and reset the magic of the evening. Calla was relieved, as she really didn’t want this to end.
Not yet.
5
“SO WHY IS IT, exactly, that you owe my brother?” Calla asked as they walked along a quiet side street back in midtown, under starry winter skies.
Her words made little puffs of vapor in the cold air, drawing Gideon’s attention to her mouth. The edges of her lips canted upward in a half smile as her gaze landed on some snowmen built earlier in the day, lined up along the edge of the walk.
Gideon loved everything about her mouth. It was very expressive, betraying her thoughts and her emotions with a slight tilt in either direction, and it was generous with smiles. And kisses. Very wonderful, hot kisses. Before he answered her question, he pulled her around to face him and bent down to help himself to one, unable to wait.
She didn’t seem to mind, pressing closer and parting her lips under his, still tasting of lime, tequila and savory spices from their dinner. Gideon didn’t want to stop, but when she shivered in his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was from desire or cold.
He broke the kiss but kept her close to him as they continued walking, his arm slung around her shoulders.
“He took a bullet for me,” Gideon said, feeling the same knot curl in his chest that he usually did when he said the words out loud. It had been two years, but the memory was still fresh. “He saved my life.”
Gideon still sometimes went to bed haunted by the image of Nathan falling to the pavement. He had taken down the shooter, and Nathan had been wearing a vest, but still.
Calla froze, gripping his hand tightly as she stared up into his face.
“You were there? When he was shot? He never told me that.”
“We were checking the alleys after an armed assault on a store owner, but it seemed like the guy was long gone. He wasn’t—in fact, I walked right by him. He came up behind me. He would have killed me there, on the spot, if Nathan hadn’t come around the corner. He yelled before the guy could shoot me, but then the guy turned on Nathan. Worst night of my life, seeing him fall,” Gideon said.
He apologized softly as he realized he was squeezing Calla’s hand a bit too tightly. She made some incomprehensible noise as she tightened her hand on his again.
“He was okay. He had a vest on—we both did. But it’s just luck that the bullet hit there. I took the guy down right after he fired, but still. If the shot hadn’t hit the vest, Nate could have been killed. Because of my carelessness.”
Calla paused, as if absorbing the news. Was she wondering why he’d missed the guy who had been hiding down a small side alley? Was she thinking that his miss could have gotten her brother killed?
“I’m so glad he saved you,” she finally said, to his surprise.
Something in her voice, a husky note that seemed to glide over his skin, made him want to get her alone.
“Want to grab a cab back to my hotel instead of your place? I have this fancy room, huge bathtub, huge bed...hardly being used,” he said as he ducked down to nibble at the curve of her ear.
“Oh, a hot bath sounds perfect.” She sighed.
“Even better if we share?” he added.
“Definitely. Though I don’t see any cabs in service here. There’s a subway a block down.”
She was already heading that way, leading him by the hand, and he was happy to follow. They caught the train heading downtown in time and took some seats on a corner, with only a dozen or so other passengers all minding their own business on the far side of the car.
The sway and rattle of the subway car sent a vibration through Gideon’s body that only emphasized how turned on he was, and he pulled Calla closer, finding her mouth to let her know, too.
“How long?” he whispered roughly in her ear.
“Maybe ten minutes, if that,” she said, sounding a little shaky herself.
He saw the pulse hammering in her throat, and let his gaze drift down over the flush in her cheeks, not from the cold. Meeting his look with one of her own, she turned into him, closer, sliding her hand up his thigh and under the flap of his coat, her hand settling over the distinct bulge in his slacks.
Gideon had to bite down to repress a moan, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair as she touched him so slightly, yet made his entire body stiffen with need.
“You keep doing that, I won’t make it off the train,” he muttered against the soft skin of her neck.
“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” she said with an evil chuckle, flicking her tongue against his ear as she continued to touch him just enough to set him on fire, but not enough to quench the blaze.
By the time the train reached their stop, Gideon could hardly think straight. He was the one pulling her along as they both raced to his hotel. In the elevator on the way to his room, he gave her a taste of her own medicine, pressing her into the wall and touching her as she had him...a light hand grazing over a hard nipple, a nudge of his thigh at the apex of hers. She was trembling, as was he, when the doors finally opened.
Entering the hotel room, Gideon let the door slam shut, his key card falling to the floor. He didn’t bother with a light. They were a tangle of sleeves and pant legs, belts and shoes flung every which way until all he felt was her skin against his.
“Oh, yeah, that’s it...” he said, holding as much of her against him as he could fit.
Now that he had her here and naked, the urgency diminished somewhat and he slid his hands over her back and up into her hair, steadying her head so that he could explore the recesses of her mouth as deeply as possible, robbing them both of normal breath for long moments.
“I’m dizzy,” she gasped softly, breaking the kiss for a moment. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as she clung to him, and Gideon tightened his arms around her.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he promised, trailing more kisses from the back of her ear down her neck and shoulder, finally finding his way to her breasts.
“You’re delicious,” he said roughly, drawing one ripe tip into his mouth and then the other, until she was whimpering and slack in his arms.
“Gideon, please,” she begged, and that undid him.
The small exclamation of surprise when he picked her up made him smile as he carried her to the large sofa in the main room. He set her down gently and turned on the light on the nearby table.
He wanted to see...everything.
She was flushed and rosy, her dark hair a gorgeous mess from his hands, her curves inviting him to touch some more. One knee fell to the side; he saw the slight shimmer of arousal glistening on her thigh and knew exactly what he wanted.
She watched him, letting him look, and didn’t say a word as he fell to his knees beside her, sliding his hand up her leg until he discovered the slick heat that invited him in.
Making a little more room, he levered over her and settled in, his shoulders widening her, opening her even more intimately to his view. He took his time, looking, touching and finally tasting so slowly she cried out his name.
It urged him on, his tongue flickering over her hot, hard nub as his fingers danced in other delicate places. He let her move, but only so much, his weight and shoulders pinning her in place so that he could continue until she buckled under him. He kept touching and tasting as she tightened and then went hot and loose beneath him, her cries turning to soft moans and then sighs as the urgency ebbed.
He moved up to lie alongside her, holding her close as his lips found hers. She was pliant and warm, her eyes hazy.
Her hands were on him again as she watched him now, touching and repositioning herself over him so that the tables were turned.
“Do you have...?” she asked, standing up.
“Yeah, in the black bag on the bathroom counter. Over there,” he indicated, hating that she had to leave, but enjoying the view as she walked across the room to retrieve the protection he’d almost left back in Houston, not anticipating a need.
He’d been so wrong. There was a seemingly unquenchable, intense need.
She returned quickly, covered him with a touch that nearly set him off all by itself, and then she was over him, taking him in, taking control.
He lay back and watched her move over him, taking in the way her body moved, the grace of her form, the way her lips parted and her eyes closed as the heat built between them.
He groaned as she tightened around him, his hands finding her hips in a reflex to urge her on, to set the pace. She leaned in, her nails scraping lightly over his chest as he thrust upward, meeting her rhythm, seeking more.
Harder.
Deeper.
Gideon tried to slow down, to make it last for both of them, but Calla had other ideas, not relenting for a second.
“Calla, honey, oh...” he managed, but his body and breath tightened, stealing any more words.
He opened his eyes to see the wash of pleasure in her expression at the same time he erupted, taking them both out of themselves and into each other for long, scorching seconds.
She collapsed down over his chest in the most delightful heap of woman he’d ever had his hands on. Closing his arms around her, he didn’t say another word, not wanting to break the spell. This had to have been one of the best evenings of his life.
Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday RushPlaying GamesAll Night Long Page 5
