Craving Temptation (2 page)

Harper eased herself down the stairs into the commercial kitchen. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla assaulted her nostrils. Quentin was putting the final touches on a wedding cake, the elegant six-tier confection certain to be a showstopper at the wedding of Westley and Denise Woody. He lifted his gaze as she leaned against the stainless-steel counter, resting on her elbows as she stared in his direction.

“It's beautiful!” she exclaimed.

Quentin's gaze danced over her curvaceous frame. She was wearing one of his dress shirts, the garment closed with one button. Simple leather flip-flops adorned her manicured toes. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and her natural complexion glowed. “It pales in comparison to how beautiful you are, gorgeous!”

Harper smiled. “You are such a silver-tongued devil. You make a girl blush.”

Quentin laughed. “Why are you still awake, baby?”

“I was missing you. The bed's cold.”

“I guess I need to do something about that,” Quentin said as he lifted the cake from the counter and transferred it to a metal moving cart.

He rolled the cake into the cooler for keeping. When it was safely tucked away he dropped his work utensils into the commercial dishwasher. He washed his hands and reached for a dish towel. With one last check of the yeast rolls rising on the countertops and all the timers he turned toward his wife, a sly smile on his face.

“What are you wearing under that shirt?” he asked as he leaned back against the freezer door, his arms crossed over his chest.

Harper gave him a sultry look with the hint of a smile as she toyed with the one button on her shirt. Undoing it slowly the shirt opened just a smidgen, the barest hint of warm mocha skin peeking through.

Quentin smiled widely, a wave of heat shifting through his groin. Harper grabbed the front of the shirt with both hands and flashed him a quick look at her goodies. Beneath the shirt she wore nothing. Her nipples stood at attention and she sported a perfectly manicured landing strip between her legs.

Quentin lifted his eyes back to her face as Harper bit down against her bottom lip, beckoning him to her with a sultry, come hither look. As he moved in her direction Harper turned and began her own slow stroll toward the back stairwell. Quentin was right on her heels.

Harper was midway up the steps when Quentin eased an arm around her waist, causing her shirt to rise up on her body. He pulled her back against himself as he leaned to place one kiss on her right cheek and another on her left. Harper giggled as he followed each kiss with a gentle slap. She turned in his arms as he moved to stand on the riser beside her, dropping his mouth to hers. The kiss had her dizzy with wanting, everything about her new husband teasing her senses.

Quentin moved her against the wall, lifting her up as her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His rising member was hard, the length of him tapping eagerly at the door to her most private place. He purred, the guttural moan rising from someplace deep in his chest.

Their kisses were fervent as their hands danced a slow drag across each other's bodies, fingers tap-dancing over warm skin. Harper whispered sweet nothings and dirty somethings into her man's ear. His eagerness rising with a vengeance, Quentin chuckled softly. Their intimate moment was suddenly interrupted when Troy swung the lower-level door open. The couple turned abruptly to stare at him just as he caught sight of them on the stairwell.

With his eyes wide Troy quickly slammed the door closed between them. He stood on the other side, the moment awkward as he fought not to laugh out loud.

“Sorry!” he said, calling out to his family. “But you two might want to consider getting a hotel room!”

The door swung open as Quentin moved back into the kitchen, his clothes readjusted. His cheeks were heated, a crimson red tint coloring his complexion. Troy could hear Harper's loud giggling fading off in the distance.

“Sorry about that,” Quentin said. “We got a little carried away.”

Troy shrugged. “Don't apologize to me. If you and your wife like it, I love it.”

The two men stood staring at each other, then both burst out laughing. As the moment passed Quentin waved a dismissive hand in Troy's direction. “What brings you here this time of night?”

“I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd come do the books for next month.”

“I'd think you would be exhausted with the schedule you've been keeping.”

“So would I,” Troy said, his shoulders jutting toward the ceiling.

Quentin shook his head. “You need a woman, Big Brother!”

Troy laughed. “Not really.”

“You might want to try it. I sleep well every night!”

“I'm sure you do.” Troy shook his head as he moved back in the direction of the office. “Do me a favor when you go back up, please, and toss down those folders I left on the corner table in the living room.”

“You can go get them.”

Troy shook his head. “I might see something I don't want to see. I'm already scarred.”

Quentin laughed. “Good night, Troy!”

“You're going to bed?”

“I'm going to go finish what my wife started.”

Troy chuckled with his brother. “I swear I'll never be able to look at my little sister the same way ever again!”

 

 

They were finally able to reopen the bakery on Saturday morning and the space was filled to capacity. The thick aroma of rich, dark coffee and decadent treats greeted each visitor. Both Quentin and Harper were elated as they carried orders from behind the counter into the new expansion, serving the long line of customers looking for their infamous breakfast croissants and pastries. Friends, family, and tourists had come to share in their excitement.

Troy had been moving from table to table, reacquainting himself with old friends and introducing himself to anyone who didn't know anything about him. He was excited to announce his candidacy for mayor; more than ready to address the issues affecting their community.

Alice Moore, surrogate mother to Troy and Quentin, was extolling Troy's many virtues to a gathering of senior citizens who were all enjoying their morning meal together. “That boy's as good as gold!” Miss Alice chimed as she wrapped a thick arm around his waist and pulled him to her.

Troy dropped his own arm around her wide shoulders and hugged her back as he leaned against the seat she sat in. “Well, thank you, Miss Alice. I appreciate that,” he said, his brilliant smile a mile wide.

Miss Alice tapped him on his backside. “Troy will do a wonderful job as mayor. Yes, he will!”

The gray-haired faction seated beside her all nodded their agreement, everyone extending Troy their best wishes. From the newly renovated space, Michael Chamberlain gestured for Troy's attention.

“Miss Alice, ladies, if you'll excuse me, please. Business calls,” Troy said as he tossed them a wink of his eye.

Like a gaggle of hens the women giggled with amusement. “Good as gold!” Miss Alice repeated as Troy moved in the other man's direction.

Michael Chamberlain was seated at the family's corner table with its view of the door and window. A plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, still warm from the oven, sat on the table in front of him. The two men had a long history together, best friends since their freshman year at Craigmont High School when they had copied each other's answers on a science exam. Both had passed the test with better than average grades, drawing the attention of the instructor. With neither willing to admit their indiscretion, a second test with each on opposite sides of the room had been demanded. Despite passing the exam a second time, a fistfight had ensued on the bus ride home, followed by a lecture from Pop once they'd reached their destination. They'd been best buddies ever since.

With the exception of Michael's two-year trek through Europe right after college and the past year in Chicago where he'd worked as a state prosecutor, he had always called Memphis his home. He'd been eager to come back as Troy's campaign manager when the job had been offered and Troy appreciated the skill set he knew his friend Mike would bring to the table.

“These are good!” Michael chimed excitedly as Troy took the seat beside him. He licked the sugary residue from his fingers.

Reaching for one of the pastries, Troy took a large bite. “They are very good,” he said.

Mike tapped at the notepad at his elbow. “Good job with the press. You looked almost presidential when you announced your mayoral run.”

Troy laughed as he took a second bite. “Almost?”

His friend shrugged. “Almost. You're not quite there yet. We need to work on your wardrobe. You're not trying to make the cover of
GQ
magazine.”

Troy smiled, his head waving from side to side. “I don't know what you're talking about because I look good. You know I look good.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Trust me, bro. We just need to tone down the silk suits a tad and definitely get rid of that prep-school-graduate thing you have going on. I'm thinking something a little more country. Maybe find you a plaid blazer or two.”

“Who wears plaid these days?” Harper asked as she suddenly appeared at Troy's elbow. “No one wears plaid anymore.”

Troy laughed.

“Help a friend out, Harper,” Mike chimed. “I was trying to ugly him up a bit. You women know about having that one unattractive friend that makes the rest of you look good, right? I'm trying to make Troy that friend.”

Harper shook her head. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mike. That must be a guy thing because all of my friends are hot.”

Mike shifted forward in his chair, his blond locks falling over his ocean blue eyes. “Don't you want to hook me up with one of your friends, Harper?”

“Oh, hell no!” Quentin chimed, suddenly joining the conversation. “Harper likes her friends.”

“Yes, I do,” Harper said in agreement.

“I'm a good guy,” Mike said, his fingers lightly tapping against his chest. “In fact, I'm a great guy! Tell her, Troy.”

Troy laughed. “When you're not wearing those ugly plaid jackets!”

Mike pretended to pout as he threw his hands up in frustration. “I like my plaid jackets,” he said as everyone at the table laughed heartily.

The casual banter continued as the crowd in the room began to thin out. Troy saw the woman first. She was easing her way through the intersection, mindful of the traffic that was ripping up and down Beale Street. His eyes widened as he thought back to their first encounter the night of Harper and Quentin's wedding. She'd actually come back and he felt a wide grin suddenly paint his face with excitement.

The door opening and then closing drew everyone's attention as the young woman made her way inside. She barely tossed a quick glance around the room as she moved straight to the counter, her eyes dancing back and forth over the assortment of pastries. Harper started to move from her seat when Troy stalled her.

“I've got this,” he said as he jumped to his feet, a wide grin filling his face.

Harper tossed Quentin a curious look as their brother moved in the young woman's direction, his footsteps eager. They all turned to stare as he made his way to the woman's side, greeting her warmly.

“So, you came back,” Troy chimed, catching her off guard.

Startled, Amina jumped, turning her gaze to meet his. Her mouth lifted into a bright smile, the gesture hidden behind the veil that covered her face. He was still as beautiful as she remembered. As he towered above her, her gaze swept from the top of his closely cropped, dark brown haircut down to the tips of his leather loafers and back. He was tall, standing somewhere in the vicinity of six feet plus a few inches. Khaki slacks and a white polo shirt adorned his solid frame. His complexion was a classic caramel, rich and smooth like melted candy. With his chiseled features, hint of a beard, smoldering chestnut-colored eyes, and full, plush lips, the man was incredibly attractive.

“Well, hello! How are you?” Amina chimed happily.

Troy's head bobbed eagerly against his thick neck. Her gaze was warm and inviting and still as stunning as that first time he'd seen it. Her eyes were wide, sitting against a complexion of pale honey. Their color was a light hazel with a hint of green and they shimmered, reflecting the midday light that brightened the room. He could feel the smile hidden behind the veil she wore. “I'm really well. It's good to see you again.”

“I actually came back a few days ago but you were closed for renovations. I had a nice conversation with Harper, though.”

“You met Harper?”

She smiled again. “I did. And she was very sweet. She turned me on to those really great chocolate cookies with the caramel filling and sea salt. I had to come back for some.”

Troy nodded. “We can take care of that,” he said, still staring intently.

There was an awkward pause. “My name's Amina, by the way,” she said, extending her hand to shake his.

Troy winced ever so slightly. “Where are my manners? I'm Troy. Troy Elliott.”

“It's nice to meet you, Troy.”

He smiled, a sheepish look across his face. “It's nice to meet you, too, Amina.” Suddenly feeling out of sorts Troy moved behind the counter. “So, what can I get you?”

“Chocolate cookies?” Amina said with a slight giggle.

Troy's head bobbed quickly. “Right. Chocolate cookies.” He suddenly looked completely lost.

Harper suddenly came to the rescue, moving behind the counter to join him. “Hi, how can I help . . . ?” she started, recognition suddenly washing over her face. “Amina?”

“Hey, Harper!” Amina answered.

Harper smiled. “Girl, I almost didn't recognize you!” she exclaimed.

Amina nodded. “I know. It's my fashionable attire,” she said as her gaze swept down the length of her robes.