Traded for Love (16 page)

He came up to me with the most innocent, boyish grin on his face.

“Do you kiss all the women who work for you?” I asked.

“Only the ones old enough to be my mom or grandma.” He held up the sugar rose. “Say 'ah'.”

I opened my mouth and he set the sugar rose on my tongue. As soon as I closed my mouth, it melted into perfect yummy goodness.

I couldn't suppress the loud
mmmm
I let out in response, the sound of which came from my throat, but the sentiment of which came from my hungry stomach.

“Okay!” Drake clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Cookie time. What kind is your favorite?”

“Um. Chocolate chip?”

“No it's not.” He shook his head. “Any flavor you have to say as a question is
not
your favorite. Think back to when you were a kid. Did your mom ever make you a cookie that just made your toes curl?” He illustrated this by folding his fingers into his palms in front of his face and squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

“My mom died when I was really little. I don't remember.”

“Jeez. I'm really batting a thousand with you today, aren't I?” He shook his head and huffed. “Well, think about it. What cookie has been most influential in your life?”

I laughed. “Influential? It's just a
cookie
!”

“Those are fighting words in this kitchen.” He spun on his heels. “Leroy, are cookies just cookies?” He shouted across the kitchen.

“No, chef!” the portly man answered, not looking up from his work.

“Anna, are cookies
just
cookies?” Drake repeated to the elderly woman.

“Do I have to really—”

“Answer the question, Anna!” Drake said emphatically.

I held back a laugh at his overzealous prodding.

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

He turned back to me. “See? Cookies are
not
just cookies. They are little morsels of chewy, sweet goodness. They can be attached to amazing memories. They fix scraped knees. They make you feel happy!”

“You're not supposed to eat your feelings, you know,” I chided.

“We're all about breaking the rules here,” he said, winking at me again.

There went my legs again, turning into Jell-O. If there was a cookie that made me feel like
that
, I wanted it.

A scrawny guy came in from the back door, almost startling the bejesus about of me.

Drake snapped his fingers at the guy. “Jerome. Coffee, please.”

“Ooh. Who's your
friend
?” The kid wiggled his bushy, black eyebrows. He took his hands out of his pants pockets, and adjusted the sides of his denim jacket dramatically. “How are you, ma'am?”

“Not for you!” He shoved Jerome playfully. “Coffee. And the good stuff, please. Top shelf.”

“Yes, chef!” The kid saluted and exited the bustling cookery.

“There you are! Did ya smoke a whole damn pack?” Margot bellowed as the door swung on its hinge.

“I smoked
two!
” Jerome's fading voice exclaimed.

Drake ushered me over to one of the empty counters and pulled down ingredients. “We've got a few industrial mixers here, but I prefer to mix cookie batter by hand,” he said.

I observed as he cracked eggs, melted butter, and added flour, vanilla extract, almond extract, and a number of other basic ingredients to the bowl. “Now we'll just add whatever chewy awesome things we love to the mix.”

He did it so quickly that it was all a blur to me. By the time he was done, he'd added macadamia nuts, chocolate chips, almonds and peanut butter chips.

“Oh my god, this smells amazing.” I was sure I was drooling.

“Go ahead and mix,” he said. “I've got one more thing I want to put in.”

I stirred the thick batter as he drifted around the kitchen. He finally returned with a small bag.

“Bombs away!” he said and held the bag up high, letting non-descript chunks fall into the mix.

“What's that?”

There was a glint in his ocean-blue eyes. “Salted. Caramel.”

My jaw dropped. “Can we just … eat the dough?”

“Nonsense! The magic happens in the oven.” He licked his lips.

“We've got bread coming out, Drake!” Anna called out.

“I'll get it!” Leroy answered, pulling off his latex gloves.

“I'm going to get a baking sheet. Keep going,” Drake said before disappearing again.

“Chef!” Jerome's voice came from behind me.

“What is it?” Drake called back.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Emily, cream and sugar?” Drake asked me over the noise of Leroy removing the bread.

“Oh! Yes, please!” The hectic spirit of the kitchen was contagious. I stirred like a mad woman, until my arms hurt. Everything melted together beautifully into one big gooey mess.

Drake reappeared with a silicone mat on a baking sheet. “Here we go. Now we'll wash our hands and form little balls with the dough and put them on the sheet. Get just enough to fill the palms of your hands.”

I did as he instructed, and soon the industrial-size pan was dotted with what would become our cookies.

He wiped his hands and put the pan in the oven. The door clinked shut and I relaxed my aching arms.

Jerome popped into the kitchen, this time wearing an apron in lieu of his denim coat. He held out a piping-hot mug. “Here you go, my lady.”

I snickered and took the mug.

“
My lady
.” Drake rolled his eyes. “Get back to work, son.”

Turning the mug in my hands, I stared at the bustling hive. I'd only spent a short time there, yet I already loved it. I wanted to
work
there, to smell the sugar, to make mystery cookies, to see Drake's smile every day. I wanted to see him kiss the old lady, and wear that white apron, and hear him get yelled at by Margot, and hear
him
yell at Jerome in his playful, big-brotherish way.

“Notice how the kid didn't bring me any.” Drake shook his head. “Try it.”

I inhaled the aroma, catching the chocolate notes in the brew, then took a small sip. The velvety rich blend was unlike any other coffee I'd ever tried. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. “Ohmygod,” I said in one breath. “This is AH-mazing!” I took several more gulps.

“I told you!” he said with a grin.

“This is evil. You've ruined every other coffee for me.”

“I never promised you otherwise. In fact, I think the only thing I gave you my word on was that it would knock your socks off.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Consider my socks off.” I couldn't get enough of the drink. I was pretty sure I'd be taking a cup home with me, and possibly a bag of grounds. I'd also have to find out exactly what creamer Jerome had added to it.

I heard the back door open and footsteps come in.

“Oh, you're here!” Drake said, his face lighting up.

When I turned, I saw a petite, curvy woman step into the kitchen. Her brown hair and light-brown eyes made her look like she was covered in a thick layer of sweet syrup. Her white summer dress made her look young, but judging from the look her face, I deduced she couldn't have been younger than twenty-five. There was an innocence about her, something I liked, but wasn't sure I could trust at face-value.

I was shocked when Drake wrapped an arm around her and pecked her on the lips. “How was it?”

“Still the same. Nothing's changed,” she answered, sliding her paisley scarf off her shoulders.

“Come and meet my new friend, Emily,” Drake said, bringing the woman over.

I lowered my mug. It'd somehow lost its sweetness.

To say the meeting was awkward would be an understatement.

She put out a hand for me to shake and I did so with as much of a smile as I could muster.

Drake shifted uncomfortably. “Emily, this is Chastity, my—”

“—his friend,” Chastity interrupted.

Her eyes drifted down to my cup. “I see he's lured you in with the promise of coffee. And—” She sniffed the air. “Are those your famous chewy, salted caramel chunk cookies?”

“Yup.”

“Could you bring some home? I think I'll need a few. It's been a day.”

How was it that
I
felt like the third wheel, when she was the one who'd walked in our … whatever this was. Was this a date?

I swallowed hard.

“Can you handle things the rest of the day? I'm going home. I just came by to get my purse. I left it downstairs,” she said to him.

“Yeah, I've got it.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a gold key.

“Emily, was it?” She smiled. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I said with absolutely no excitement in my voice. I was lying and I didn't have enough fortitude to cover it up.

Chastity smiled, nodded, and then walked off in the direction of a door I hadn't noticed before.

“I think I'd better be going,” I said, holding out the mug for him.

He looked disappointed, sad even. “But you haven't tried one of the cookies yet.”

“I just noticed the time and I'm late for something. Thanks for the coffee.” I shoved the mug at him and untied the apron strings.

“Oh. Well, at least take the cookies
with
you if you won't eat them here. They only have a few minutes left.” His eyes were pleading just as hard as his voice was.

“Okay.” I faked a smile. “I'm going to be late though.”

He chuckled lightly. “They're worth being late for.”

Without another word, I lay my apron down on the island and exited the kitchen—too fast to avoid raising suspicion.

I blew through the barrier and sat down at the closest empty table. The last customer's dishes hadn't been cleared yet, but I didn't care.

Embarrassed, and lost in thought, I sat quietly waiting. He'd woven some kind of spell for me, one which made me feel like I belonged. Chastity's appearance had destroyed that. The magic had disappeared, and I felt like nothing but a third wheel. There was no doubt in my mind that she was his girlfriend.

I couldn't even reason through why that upset me. Why did it bother me? I was married, so why did it bother me that
he
had a girlfriend?

This is stupid
, I thought, trying to dismiss it all.
This was just a nice day out
.
I'll just have to forget him and move on
.
Nothing was ever going to come out of this
.
I was just entertaining the idea that … that … Fuck, what did I even want from him? What did I even want out of this situation?

You were stupid, that's what it was
,
I told myself.

I had to face the facts, I'd foolishly tried to plant seeds where there was not even a remote chance of sun.

This whole escapade had just been a weak attempt at ignoring the truth, but it came back in full force now.

I was taken.

I was Jack's.

And I had no right to enjoy myself, even a little bit, with another man.

Oh, the damned guilt.

A few minutes later, Drake tapped me on the shoulder. I stood up and avoided his direct gaze.

“I'm sorry about your appointment. It would have been nice to eat these together.” He held out a small bag bearing the Savage Sweets logo. He'd taken off his apron, and I was reminded about everything that had gone on in the past few hours. I could see the coffee stains I'd left behind on his clothes, and remembered that I was covered in similar splashes of the bookstore's sub-par brew. There was an adorable streak of flour on his shoulder and a dab on his tan cheek.

“I've got to go. I'm late,” I said, taking the bag.

Even though I couldn't managed to look at him directly, I could feel him smiling. “I hope you enjoy them.”

I turned and walked out of the bakery without saying goodbye.

I didn't owe him anything, and he didn't owe me anything.

And that's the way it should have been.

And that's the way I thought I wanted to leave it.

Good Dom, Bad Dom

(Jack)

I checked my watch as I heard the door open and close in the foyer.

That must be Emily,
I thought.

She stomped up the stairs and passed the office without giving it so much as a look.

Granted, I was home early, but I would have assumed she would have at least checked to see if I was in.

“Emily,” I called.

She halted just past the door and came back. Her face was red¸ though there were no signs she'd been crying.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing. I'm just feeling a little hot.” She wiped her forehead.

“What happened to your shirt?”

She shook her head. “I spilled coffee on myself. That's why I came home. To change.”

I quirked a brow, surprised she was even speaking to me considering the argument we'd had earlier. Even though I wasn't really sorry about what I'd said, I knew that if I apologized, it might smooth things over.

I set aside the latest poll results and sat up in my chair. “Come in for a minute, would you?”

She seemed suspicious, but nonetheless came into the office and stood by the guest chair.

“I wanted to say I'm sorry for what I said earlier, about Katherine reminding me of you.” I tried to sound as sincere as possible.

The surprise on her face was palpable. “Sorry? You?”

I clasped my hands on the desktop. “I was in a bad mood. I didn't mean it. I hope you'll forgive me.”