He was less than five steps from her, and she had to do something.
“Sweet buns!”
Her voice screeched and bounced off the kitchen walls. Landon stopped short, his eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement. The plan had been to make small talk about preparing some sweet buns for tomorrow’s breakfast. Regretfully, her brain was too busy dreaming about nibbling on his bottom lip to transfer adequate information to her mouth.
“I hope you’re not commenting on my anatomy, because I’m kind of shy.” Landon’s lips twitched as humor infiltrated his lust-glazed eyes. “And for the record, I have swimming trunks under this towel, so my sweet buns are decently clothed.”
“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, equal parts annoyed and turned on. “Or else I’m not sharing a single morsel of my sweet buns with you.”
“Now, when you say your sweet buns, are you referring to the ones peeking out of your…” He waved a hand in her direction. “Robe?”
“Grow. Up.”
He only laughed harder.
You wanna play like that? Fine. Aubrey pivoted on her heels, giving him an eyeful of her half-bared bottom. When Landon choked on his laugh, she tossed a Cheshire cat grin over her shoulder and sashayed away from him.
How do you like them sweet buns?
She went up to her room and drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, still wearing that smile.
* * *
Early the next morning, Aubrey set the freshly baked sweet buns on the kitchen counter and brewed a fresh pot of coffee before retreating to her room. When she heard the front door shut, she tiptoed into the hallway and risked a peek outside the window.
Landon left for his meeting dressed in a fitted gray suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He looked the part of a successful businessman—powerful and in control. Aubrey’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart sprinted as if she were the final runner in a tight relay race. Am I ever going to get used to my reaction to him? Her attraction was becoming harder and harder to quell.
Aubrey sighed and turned away from the window once the dust settled on the driveway. She checked the platter of sweet buns she’d left for him and was equal parts pleased and peeved to find every last piece of the bread gone. Her baker’s ego danced while her empty stomach growled, but she shushed both of them. A small white sheet of stationery occupied the empty platter. Anticipation skipping on her nerve endings, she opened the folded note with not-so-steady hands.
Thanks for the sweet buns. See you tonight.
—Mr. Sunshine
Her heart attempted a triple flip but crashed after a two-and-a-quarter turn. With a tremulous smile, Aubrey traced his words with her fingertips. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, but bold and decisive like its arrogant creator. Warmth and a spark of happiness burst in her core. The moment felt more intimate than anything she’d experienced before.
No, no, no. Aubrey threw the note back on the table. After staring at it for three seconds, she pushed it away a little farther. Do not pick that up again. Being with Landon felt far too good. Far too right. It scared the shit out of her. She couldn’t let her guard down. Last night had been a close call—she’d been a few seconds away from climbing him.
Aubrey squeezed her eyes shut. What would she have done then? Give myself to him and pray I’ll be enough for him? Hope he won’t cast me to the shadows? That was plain dumb. Relationships failed. Even when couples committed their lives to each other, they only had a fifty-fifty chance of staying together.
Love was a gamble. How much would you bet on a game with fifty-fifty odds? For me, a hundred bucks, tops. That was her cap for how much she could lose at a casino. But love demanded the ultimate all-in. You can’t divide your heart and bet a safe portion. Aubrey wasn’t a gambler. She had to fold.
She couldn’t stray from Operation Friendship. It was best to keep this a friendly business arrangement. That was the only way no one would get hurt. Aubrey took a big breath and put her fists on her hips, superhero-style. I’m going to get Landon out of my mind. How?
Two. Words. Strawberry shortcake—with port-macerated strawberries. Well, six if you count the description. A familiar excitement hummed through her as she imagined her new dessert. Damn it. It’s fortified wine, not port. Seven words.
If she wanted to bake the perfect dessert, she