Page 97 of Desserts for Stressed People

I cup his hand with mine. “I do. And I’m waiting to panic, hoping you know how to un-stop it.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He tucks the lock behind my ear. “Good morning, Heaven.”

I inhale deeply. No more chocolate, but I can still get a hint of dessert. I wonder if it’s my brain playing tricks on me or if he passes some sugar behind his ears in the morning.

“Good morning, Sh—”

He presses his lips on mine, and once again, I don’t mind his interruption. My heart picks up, a helicopter in my chest, and I’m about to take flight when his tongue grazes mine, warm and demanding and freaking scrumptious.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.

My stomach tumbles, squeezes, twists. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“I know. That’s far too long. Let’s quit and open that bakery.” His lips trail down my neck, his breaths soft and scorching hot against my skin. “I’ll feed you desserts and spend my days kissing you.”

I drag my fingers along his flexed muscles. I know we’ve been flirting for a while, but saying he’s an intense guy doesn’t even begin to cover it. Since our first kiss yesterday, he has barely kept his hands off me. “It doesn’t sound like a killer business plan.”

“Hmm.” He nibbles at my neck. “That’s okay. We only need revenue to buy more desserts.”

When I giggle, he stares at my lips. After a second, his gaze hardens, as if a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I won’t be able to kiss you like this today.”

“Oh, I know. Don’t worry, when we’re at work, we’re at work.”

“Yes. Work is work, and we can’t let our personal situation interfere with any of it.” He shakes his head. “But I wasn’t tellingyou. I’m trying to convince myself.”

“Ahh.” I peck the tip of his nose, then move my arms around his waist. “How about we share some dessert tonight?”

“Yes. But it’s still ten to twelve hours from now.”

“You’re a big boy. You’ll survive.”

He tilts his head, and I move my hand to his gorgeous brown hair, fixing it a little after I’ve pulled at it. When I adjust his tie, he presses a button, and the elevator resumes its ascent. “You’re right. I’m a big boy. It’s ten hours, no big deal.”

With a nod, we go back to our positions, each on one side of the elevator, with enough distance between us that no one could tell there’s more going on. “Or we could sneak out during the lunch break—”

“Yes. Definitely that,” he answers without skipping a beat.

I’m still chuckling when the doors open, and none other than our CEO comes in. After a quick nod to me, he talks Shane’s ear off. A hotel inauguration they’ve been working on for months is happening this Friday, so he has many concerns to share.

Once we get to the sixth floor, Shane excuses himself and walks to his office without so much as a glance at me. Looks like we’re officially back at work.

* * *

Shane knocksat my office door, and seeing him through the glass immediately cheers me up. It’s been twenty-four hours since our heart-stopping elevator ride, and we’ve both been too consumed with work to do more than glance longingly at each other.

Which we’ve done. Plenty.

The man I’ve been talking to on the phone says a quick goodbye before hanging up, so I wave Shane in.

“Hi,” he says. He looks well-rested, though I know for sure he left past ten last night. His suit today is a boring tone of beige that would make anyone look like Mr. Bean, but on him, is spectacular.

Getting lost for a second in the squared pattern on his salmon-pink tie, I cover my mouth to stifle another yawn. “Did you just get here?”

His eyes squint. “No, it’s almost lunchtime. At what time did you get here?”