Page 42

He laughed at my expression. "Don't worry! Commercial figs like these are self-pollinating varieties, or they're hand-pollinated. No wasps involved. Around here, we don't have the right climate for the wasps anyway."

"Hand-pollinated?" I echoed.

"Yep. Farmers use little brushes to transfer pollen between the figs. Labor of love, really." He offered me a slice. "Try one. Nothing sweeter."

I popped the piece into my mouth, and the complex sweetness exploded across my tongue–honey and berries with an earthy undertone. It was unlike anything I'd tasted before, rich and somehow decadent.

"I'll take a dozen," I decided. The idea of working with these strange not-fruits appealed to me – something transformed from within, hiding complexity behind a simple exterior. I could relate.

"Planning something special?" he asked as he wrapped my purchase.

"I'm thinking maybe a fig and goat cheese flatbread," I said, inspiration striking. "With honey and some herbs from my garden."

"Sounds delicious. Add some crispy bacon if you eat meat–the saltiness pairs beautifully with the sweetness."

With his recommendation in mind, I made my way toward the dairy stall, my steps light as I planned my menu. The goat cheese vendor was explaining the difference between her aged and fresh varieties when a familiar scent hit me–expensive cologne mixed with something darker, more predatory.

My blood turned to ice.

"Well, well. Juniper Grey."

I turned slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Xavier stood there looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine, all casual elegance and predatory charm. The same face that had been inches from mine as his hands closed around my throat.

So much for Lust and them ‘monitoring’ him.

"You’re the crazy man from the party." I kept my voice steady, even managed a small smile. "What a surprise. What was your name again?”

"I was hoping I'd run into you." He moved closer, and I fought every instinct not to step back. "I owe you an apology for the other night. I came on way too strong."

"You certainly made an impression," I said, turning back to the cheese vendor. "I'll take some of the fresh goat cheese, please."

His eyes tracked the bag I was carrying, landing on the wrapped figs visible at the top. "Figs, huh? Interesting choice. I have a friend–well, had a friend–who absolutely hated them. Hazel. Could barely stand the smell."

My pulse quickened, but I just shrugged. "More proof of your mistaken identity, I’m afraid. And more for me. I've been obsessed with them lately."

I moved to the bacon vendor, Xavier following like a shadow.

"Hazel's been missing for weeks now," he said, voice carefully casual. "Her mother's been searching everywhere for her."

I selected bacon, taking my time. My mother wasn't going crazy with worry; she was going crazy because she needed me alive to complete that damned contract.

"That's awful,” I managed. “I hope she turns up."

"You remind me of her," Xavier said, leaning against the stall. "A lot, actually."

"Yeah?" I laughed, moving toward the honey vendor. "Well, I get that sometimes. Generic face, I guess."

"Nothing generic about you." His voice dropped, intimate in a way that made my skin crawl. "There's something about you that's just so...familiar."

I met his eyes directly, channeling every ounce of Juniper Grey's confidence. "Maybe you just have a type."

For a split second, something flickered across his face–surprise, maybe even admiration. Then that predatory smile was back.

"Maybe I do." He stepped back, hands sliding into his pockets. "Well, enjoy your cooking project. Those figs are lucky."

I watched him disappear into the crowd, my legs suddenly shaking. The honey vendor was saying something aboutwildflower varieties, but the words sounded like they were coming from underwater. I gripped the edge of her table, forcing myself to breathe normally.

He suspected. Of course he did. But I'd held my ground, played Juniper Grey to perfection. The figs had been perfect proof. Hazel would have recoiled, but Juniper craved them.