by Jill Shalvis
“I’ll make a note,” the baker said with a nod. “But you still have a lot of time left and a bunch of other options to try.”
“Great!” Daisy said happily, and Diego couldn’t help but smile at her.
Back when they’d been together, they’d eaten cheaply. Ramen. Apples and peanut butter. Whatever they had to do. She’d loved saving a penny, loved free shit. Apparently, she still did.
It was way too fucking cute.
But that wore off quickly. A painfully long hour—and way too much sugar—later, the baker was finally writing up the order for green tea cake with mango filling. “How many tiers?”
“Oh,” Daisy said, lighting up. “Tyler loves tiers. Maybe three?”
They both looked at Diego, who was still fighting his physical responses to Daisy enjoying her cake.
“No tiers,” Rocco had said.
“Three sounds good,” Diego said. “Maybe even four. So, we’re done here, right?”
Daisy gave him another look.
The baker seemed startled. “Well, not exactly. There’s cake toppers. We’ve got everything from collectible figures to—”
“Figurines,” Daisy said, sneaking another bite of cake, once again licking her lips and the fork. “Tyler loves to collect. Two men, of course.”
They both looked at Diego.
Since he was having a hard time thinking past the sweet glide of Daisy’s tongue along the fork, he simply nodded.
“Done,” the baker said, smiling widely, typing on her tablet as fast as she could. “This is wonderful. Everyone happy?”
“Very,” Daisy said.
They both looked over at Diego, who needed a sharp stick to stab himself with.
“What do you think?” the baker asked.
What did he think? He thought that his testosterone levels had dropped dangerously just sitting there. Standing, he fished out a credit card, which he thrust at the baker. “Let’s get this done.”
Five minutes later, Daisy was glowering at him as they exited the bakery. “You couldn’t have been any more obnoxious.”
“You underestimate me.”
She snorted. “Seriously, you’re such an a—”
“Amazing brother?”
“I was going to say asshole.”
They were in front of the bike now. Daisy had parked next to him.
“Just…take in the big picture here,” she said.
“Which is what? That Rocco and Tyler ditched us here today on purpose for who knows what reason other than to torture me?”
She rolled her eyes. “I like how you assume you’re the only one being tortured.”
“Hey, I’ve been nothing but a—”
“I swear to God if you say delight…”
He shrugged.
She sighed, looking a little overheated and frustrated and ticked off, which made two of them.
Except he was also turned on. He couldn’t help it. Daisy talked with her hands, her eyes flashing. She looked sexy as hell.
“Look,” she said. “Rocco’s in love. He’s marrying the man of his dreams, so it’s not about you or me. Or us. Or the utter lack of an us—"
“Funny, because it feels a whole bunch like it’s about us,” he said.
She opened her mouth to argue that—because God forbid she not argue with every little thing he said—and he decided he’d had enough. So, he pulled her to him and put his mouth over hers.
He’d meant to shut her up, of course, but what he hadn’t intended was to forget himself, the wedding, his brother, and everything but the soft little sound that escaped her throat just before she fisted her hands in his shirt.
Going to shove me away or pull me in, babe?
She kissed him back. More than that, she pressed all those sweet, sexy curves up against him. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her, feeling every contour of her sweet bod against his. Her mouth had started out icy cold from the chill in the air, but it was hot now. They were both hot.
She made another little sound, a sweet little mewl of pleasure that shot straight through him. That alone tamed his inner caveman, and an unexpected tenderness and sense of affection hit him hard. He cupped her face, his thumbs lightly brushing against her cheeks to kiss her again with a soul-searing gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed.
“Diego,” she whispered, and he blinked, shocked to find that he had her pressed up against her car. She had her hands beneath his shirt now, one of them resting over his heart, the other low, nearly at the waistband of his jeans. Even as he thought it, her fingers lightly danced over his abs, which quivered at her touch.
For a beat, they just stared at each other, both breathing heavily, neither moving. Except for her fingers, which seemed extremely eager to go south. With a groan, Diego caught her hand in his. “Playing with fire.”
She yanked her palm free and lightly banged the back of her head against her driver’s side window a few times.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to knock something loose,” she said. “Like my good sense.” Lifting her head again, she gave him a light push on the chest.
She wanted space.
Fine by him. He stepped back but didn’t go far.
“You’re looking at me like I’m a ticking time bomb,” she said.
“You are.”
“Flattering.”
“Look…” He tried to access any part of his working brain, but there appeared to have been a shutdown across the board, all circuits down. “That—”
“Can’t happen again,” she said and nodded. “Agreed.” She paused. “That’s what you were about to say, right?”
Actually, no.
“Because it can’t,” she said slowly, looking a little uncertain as she took in his expression.
“When did you come to that conclusion?” he asked. “When you had your tongue shoved down my throat, or when you yanked my shirt up to get to bare skin?”
Her mouth went tight. “When you stopped kissing me and started talking.” She pointed at him. “We made a pact to stay as clear of each other as possible through this. Let’s stick to it.” And then she got in her car and drove away.
The theme song of his life.
Chapter 4
The next day, Daisy got up early because eating ice cream for dinner as she had been lately required hitting the gym a few days a week. She was on the treadmill for an hour and a half before she looked down to check the screen. She’d only been on it for four minutes.
It was going to be one of those days.
When she got to the office, she worked her fingers to the bone with Carol on her back about more incoming bids, more clients, more, more, more…making Daisy question whether she would ever really retire.
“Of course, she’s not going to retire,” Daisy’s best friend from college said, video chatting Daisy during a quick lunch break from New York City where Poppy worked at a large corporate concierge firm. “She’s just dangling a carrot to keep you from entertaining other offers.”
“I have no other offers,” Daisy said with a laugh, shoving the last of her sandwich into her mouth.
“Well…” Poppy gave her a hopeful smile. “I’ve already planned out my New Year’s resolution. It’s a doozy. You ready to hear it?”
Daisy’s New Year’s resolution was to put the clothes she tried on every morning back on hangers and into her closet instead of on the chair in the corner of her room. “Sure.”
“Well…I’ve been thinking. You’re unhappy there. I’m unhappy here. And we both do basically the same thing. So, why not—?”
“Run away to an island beach somewhere and become barmaids?”
“Or…you come here, and we start our own business. And before you say no,” Poppy said quickly, opening her second laptop and swiveling the screen to face Daisy, “I’ve been putting together some numbers and specs. I think we could rock our own event planning company here in NYC. You’re always saying how much you miss the city—and me.
”
Daisy had absolutely loved New York. A lot. Going across the country at eighteen had freed her from a rough family life and upbringing. It’d given her an education. A different view of the world than her previous narrowed one. But…she loved being back in San Francisco, too. “Poppy…”
“Wait,” Poppy said quickly, holding up a hand. “Don’t say no off the cuff. Just promise you’ll think about it?”
“I will if you promise to think about doing exactly as you’ve just said but here in San Francisco.”
Poppy bit her lower lip, clearly thinking and thinking hard. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You make me a proposal for San Fran, and I’ll finish making mine for NYC. But, FYI, mine’s going to be irresistible.”
Daisy laughed, but it faded quickly when she heard her boss coming. “Gotta go,” she whispered and disconnected just in time.
Carol swept into the room. “Did you get the two new client portfolios I sent over? What do you think? Have you contacted them yet? And start a prelim report.”
Daisy checked her email. They’d literally just come in three minutes ago. “Uh—"
Carol’s brows rose. “Do I need to put Melinda on the job?”
Melinda was Daisy’s nemesis. “Nope, I’ve got it.”
“Great,” Carol said and strode out.
Daisy leaned forward and thunked her head on the desk. After a moment, she went back to work and didn’t surface for hours, not until her personal cell phone buzzed. She looked over at it and grimaced.
DO NOT ANSWER was calling…
Yesterday after the cake tasting fiasco, which was how she referred to that holy cow kiss they’d shared after the actual cake testing, she’d changed Diego’s name in her contacts to DO NOT ANSWER.
Just to remind herself.
Plus, it’d been her way of taking control of her tumbling reactions to him. And there were many: regrets, resentment, desire, hunger… It was shocking how just one touch of his incredible mouth had set her emotional maturity back an entire decade.
And he was calling her. Why? She thought of how he’d melted her with his mouth and blew out a breath. She’d never been able to ignore him. So, she answered. “Yes?”
There was a brief pause before he said, “Do you always answer your phone in that irritated-as-all-hell voice, or is that just for me?”
If her voice was irritated as all hell, his was not. It was low, husky, and achingly familiar, and it caused all sorts of reactions inside her body—including weak knees, which really pissed her off.
She was over him.
She was over him.
She was over him.
And maybe if she kept repeating that to herself, she’d learn to actually believe it. “What do you want?”
“The groom just informed me that I’m supposed to go by the tuxedo place for a seven p.m. appointment and get fitted. And that I’m not allowed to go alone.”
Daisy laughed. Hard to believe after the day she’d had and the messy tangle of emotions he caused within her, but she laughed so hard she snorted.
“Please, have fun with this at my expense,” he said dryly.
“Oh, I am.” She managed to get a hold of herself. “Rocco’s probably worried you’ll skip the fitting and attend the wedding in jeans and motorcycle boots. Why can’t he go with you?”
“He’s got a tattoo client.”
“Hmm,” she said. “And Tyler?”
“With an interior decorating client.”
As she had yesterday, she got an odd feeling. It just wasn’t like either of the grooms to miss appointments like this. Both of them were invested and would want to be there to see Diego’s suit for the wedding.
“So? Are you coming with me or not?”
“I wasn’t aware you’d actually asked me to come,” she said, wanting to hear him do just that.
“Will you pretty please come?” he asked, voice low and husky and…dammit.
Note to self: not quite ready for primetime bantering with Diego. “The pact…”
“This is part of our promise to Rocco, Princess,” he said. The use of her old nickname had her smile fading, replaced by memories that softened her into a boneless heap of hormones.
“I’m busy,” she said. “I’m at work.”
“Take a dinner break. Hell, I’ll even feed you.”
“I’m in the middle of something.”
“I’m sure your boss will understand. Everyone’s entitled to a break, especially on a long day like you’ve put in.”
“My boss understands no such thing,” she said. “And how do you know I’m putting in a long day?”
“Is there another reason you’re grumpy?”
Yes. Memories of Diego had kept Daisy up all night. Memories of him moving over her in bed, his eyes locked with hers, both of them lost in each other… “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”
“I’m outside waiting for you.”
She gaped at her phone. “How did you know you’d convince me to go with you?”
“Because you love Rocco and Tyler, remember? And you’re bossy and controlling. You want to make sure I get into a damn tux.”
Dammit. Because, one…true. And two, just the thought of him in a tux had her head swimming. “I’ll be right down.”
Five minutes later, she was standing on the sidewalk gawking at him on the Harley, looking…well, edible to be honest.
“Get on,” he said and held out a helmet.
She quivered with excitement that she didn’t want to admit. The last time she’d been on a bike had been with him. Hell, the only time she’d been on a motorcycle had been with Diego. And sometimes, even now, she dreamed about it. About the power of the machine beneath her, the strength of the man she’d wrapped herself around to be her anchor. The wind in her face. Her inner thighs snuggled up to the outside of his. The heightened sense of thrill and awareness and desire and hunger pounding through her as they took the open road…
Diego waited with a patience that was new. He’d changed. Grown up. But he’d also known that being on the back of a bike with him would turn her on. She had no idea if he remembered any of their past with the same longing that she did. She looked into his face, trying to read him, but he wasn’t giving anything away. His body was still, all that carefully harnessed and leashed power and control at rest. But then she lifted her gaze to his and sucked in a breath. There was a fire there. And smoke.
And a whole bunch of trouble if she wanted it.
Clearing her throat, she looked down at herself. Thankfully, she was in trousers, but her heels might be a problem. Her blouse was thin, and so was her fitted blazer. Even as she thought it, he shrugged out of his leather jacket and wrapped it around her. Then he took the helmet from her fingers and put it on her head himself, leaning in close with a look of concentration as he attached and adjusted the strap.
While she was still speechless, he did what she hadn’t, he zipped up the jacket, right to her chin, then left his hands on her to straighten the collar. Even when that was done, his warm fingers slid up her neck as their gazes locked.
When her breath caught audibly, his thumbs lightly stroked where her pulse raced at the hollow of her throat.
She wanted another kiss. With a shocking amount of yearning, she wanted that. But Diego dropped his hands and gave a nod of his chin for her to get on.
So, that’s what she did.
“Hold on,” he said, and she slid her arms around his waist and set her chin on his shoulder. As he roared off into the night, she found herself smiling for the first time all day.
He turned his head slightly. “Okay?”
She tightened her grip. “Very.”
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, she watched Diego walk out of the dressing room, a dark scowl on his gorgeously scruffy face, his hair a little bit tousled, giving him an overall wild look that went with the tux shockingly well. He could’ve graced the cover of any bridal magazine, and women the w
orld over would have drooled all over him.
Daisy liked to think that she was above such things, but she closed her mouth just in case.
“No,” he said. “Just, no.”
“What’s no?”
He gestured a hand down his smoking bod. “All of it. It’s not happening. Skinny-leg pants? What, am I a twelve-year-old? And the shirt’s way too tight, I can’t move in it.” He turned to the tailor waiting at nervous attention a few feet away. “What else have you got?”
The guy glanced over at Daisy, the whites of his eyes showing, his silent plea for help practically a scream.
Diego just strode over to the racks. “I’ll find something myself.”
Daisy held up a finger to the terrified tailor and pulled out her cell. She called Rocco. Normally, she’d talk the groomsman down and put some good sense into him, but in this case, Diego was right.
Although the man could look good in—or out—of anything, she saw his point. The suit didn’t…well, suit him. It was cut for a much smaller, much more slender man. Don’t get her wrong, the way the cut of the pants hugged his world-class ass was something to behold. The shirt, stretched to almost beyond its limits by his shoulders, made her want to lick him from chin to belt buckle and beyond. But…he was clearly uncomfortable, and she had no idea how he was even breathing in that shirt without busting it open at the seams. Since he was the only groomsman, she didn’t see what it would hurt to get him into something that he’d be more comfortable in.
Rocco picked up on the first ring. “Let me guess. He didn’t show.”
“Nope, he’s here. But we’re going to have to go in a different direction for his suit.”
Rocco paused for a weirdly awkward amount of time, almost as if he’d put her on mute to have a conversation with someone. Then he was back. “I trust you and your judgement,” he finally said.
A very unlike Rocco statement.
“Is Tyler there?” Daisy asked.
“Uh…no. Why?”
He was lying. Tyler was there. Which meant that Rocco wasn’t stuck at work tattooing a client that he couldn’t cancel on.
Which also meant they could have been here if they’d wanted.
So…why weren’t they?
