A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,111

after—”

“The company—controlling interest in it, anyway—will go to me.” He had less than no business telling her that. But what the hell. Nothing about that day or that night with her was following any predetermined path. So he chucked the path. It was all new territory, and he was following his gut—into the unknown.

What the hell was he thinking?

He suspected he knew what he was thinking with.

It brought him back to his earlier solution, a plan that would wind up with both of them naked. Afterward, he’d bet his future empire on the fact that it would all become perfectly clear to them both—it was about heat. Not about heart.

He had a hunger that he was damned well determined to feed. To hell with the rest. The rest would sort itself out.

It always did.

To that end, he started lugging the remaining cartons containing the quick-pour fondant back to the coolers and sealed the rolled fondant in their tubs.

“What are you doing?”

“Do those finished cupcakes need to get stored in something to stay fresh until morning?”

“Do—what? Yes, but—why are you putting those back?”

“Go ahead and put them where they need to be.”

“I have to finish this cake.”

“Is that one for delivery to someone tomorrow?”

“No, it’s just for the front of—would you stop that?” She watched in disbelief as he rolled another cart to the cooler.

He paused long enough to look at her. For once, he let the walls drop completely away, let her see everything he was feeling, everything he was needing. “No,” was all he said.

“Griffin—”

“We’re going to stop playing baker for the time being.”

“What are you talking about?”

He slid the last carton in the cooler, then strode across the room, absolutely intent, knowing without a single doubt, exactly what he was going to do. His path, at least for the next few hours, was very, very clearly defined.

“The cakes can wait,” he told her. Then he yanked her into his arms and slid the pins from her hair. “This, on the other hand, canno’.”

8

He crushed his mouth to hers, and it only took the breadth of a single heartbeat for her to respond. She grabbed him right back . . . and took him on fully, willingly, and completely.

One of them growled. She didn’t know which end was up, or down, and in that moment, didn’t much care.

Far too many things had happened that day. The very last thing she needed to do was complicate an already seriously complicated situation by having anything more to do with him. Certainly that particular kind of anything.

Yet, it was the only thing she felt certain of. She wanted him. She might not be able to keep him, but with everything else she held dear up in the air . . . what she knew was that she wanted Griffin Gallagher. At that moment there wasn’t anything she could do about her shop, her future, or the choices that were to be made.

But there was most definitely something she could do about Griffin Gallagher. And, more to the point, with Griffin Gallagher.

He wasn’t the enemy any longer. He wasn’t her savior, either. She knew that. He was merely the harbinger of change. None of that mattered.

Melody couldn’t have described in any accurate detail how it was they managed to store cupcakes and cakes and get up the back stairs to her place over the shop.

She fully acknowledged the pure insanity of the moment. And simply didn’t care. Her whole life was on the brink of massive change. Again. Even if she decided to do nothing, her world was going to change. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do, what she wanted to do.

And there was Griffin. The man who was both refined class and raw energy, who was presently all but carrying her up the stairs over his shoulder, caveman style.

She stopped thinking about tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that, and grinned when he slid her down the front of his body in front of the door leading to her personal rooms. “I’ll warn you,” she said a bit breathlessly, “I keep my kitchens and store immaculate, but my personal space, not so much.”

He was kissing the side of her neck, nibbling her earlobe, making her gasp. “I’m no’ findin’ the least bit of anything wrong with your personal space,” he murmured as he continued his delicious journey along the sensitive skin beneath her ear, trailing kisses and nips down the side of her neck, pushing the heavy,