Page 14 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)

Brandi opened her compact and pulled wisps of hair away from her face.

“Because you need room in your tummy to sample the food at Plates of Macon, and I didn’t want to get all sweaty and dirty from beating you to first base.

You never know who you’re going to meet at these types of things.

” She batted her lashes over her multicolored eyes.

“Plus this is a good way to taste food from different vendors. Which means we have to eat. I know, it’s a tough life.

And it’s never a bad idea to set up business relations.

Some of them will hopefully be closer than an hour away to the Hall.

” Wendy shifted in the front seat and narrowed her eyes at Jordan. “It’s your fault, you know.”

“Mine? Why?” Jordan asked. At least this was something to take her mind off Mrs. McGraw’s job offer.

“You worked your strategic talent management planning voodoo on us,” Brandi said.

“Wendy and I agreed on a plan for making the Hall a place people would want to have a party. With Aunt Eulalee leaving, we realized that allowing outside caterers for weddings and stuff would be better than her trying to do it all on her own or continuously finding temporary help.”

Wendy tapped her finger against her tablet. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to retire. She had her own life until she came to help Grandma after Grandpa died. Her trip to Paris is her way of testing out the waters, I think.”

It all made perfect, logical sense. Jordan brought up the list of participating vendors from the Plates of Macon website, curious to see where Barb’s Catering would be stationed.

The thought of running into Josh brought flames to her lower belly that competed with a desire to ignore him.

He was so different now. The charm and easy smile had been replaced by silence and observation, like he was watching the world instead of living in it, but she had caught glimpses of the old him. It made her curious.

They parked in the crowded lot next to the convention center and made their way inside.

Jordan took a deep breath, inhaling smells from chocolate to beef to roasted vegetables as different caterers and restaurant owners displayed their talents for the annual event.

Streams of purple and gold decorated the space, and rock music provided by a local radio station added a steady stream of noise in the background.

Rob handed them business cards with Fountenoy Hall’s peach logo on one side and contact information on the other.

“If you find a worthy place that caters, take a card and leave one of ours,” Wendy said. “We’ll start compiling information so the special events coordinator can hit the ground running.” She linked arms with Rob and strolled off in one direction. Brandi and Jordan took the other.

It only took two aisles before she spotted the handsome man with a distinct lack of mustard yellow. Josh wore a sharp white dress shirt and crisp black apron tied around his neck. And damn if the dark color didn’t make his blue eyes and graceful body even more sexy.

Brandi tugged on her arm. “Hey, there’s—”

“Ooh, look at this.” Jordan guided her friend to the closest booth, Indian Mughal. The scents of coriander and turmeric surrounded them as she took a sample of vegetables in a reddish orange sauce.

The man at the booth approached them as Brandi ate a sample from a different plate, then sucked in a breath and fanned her mouth with her hand. “Oh, crumbs. It’s spicy. Very spicy. I need some…”

The man at the booth gave her a small piece of naan. She shoved it in her mouth and chewed slowly, her face flushing. When she swallowed, he handed her another one.

“My apologies.” He smiled, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. His thick hair was dark and wavy, and he wore a long, white coat over tight-fitting pants. “We usually have a placard in front of the samples, but I think it fell down. I’ll make another one.”

“No worries,” Brandi gulped.

“Allow me to offer you a milder dish.” There was interest in his smile this time, and Brandi gave her hair a quick toss. Jordan hid her grin and left her friend to her flirting, heading back the way they’d come. She couldn’t handle any more Josh today.

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she took it out. It was a text from one of her twin brothers, Micah.

Hey, sis. Checking in. You need anything?

It was both sweet and exasperating when her family made sure she was fine, with subtle questions regarding how she was living her life, their many, many dollars and her dwindling savings account.

Good timing , she texted back. This guy came by the Inn with a once in a lifetime investment opportunity. Seems solid, but my flow has been tied up lately. Help me out?

She waited while her message was delivered and read, then watched the dots appear and disappear.

Which friend is this?

“Jordan!”

She turned when she heard her name, and waved at Lana. Just kidding. I don’t need anything. 3

Her friend said something to the gorgeous man by her side, then approached and gave Jordan a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Yeah, I’m here with Wendy and Brandi.”

“Come meet Cress.” Lana linked her arm through Jordan’s and tugged her along. “I never thought it would happen, but I’ve traded in my cravings for cupcakes for a regular stud-muffin.”

“Really.” Jordan studied him as they approached, eager to learn what had made Lana give up cupcakes. Cress wore a maroon shirt and tie, and his warm brown eyes followed their progress down the aisle. Correction: followed Lana’s progress. “Where did you guys meet?”

“He’s one of the doctors in my sales area.” She glowed and held out her hand to him. “He knows everything about me and loves me anyway.”

He linked their fingers together and kissed the back of Lana’s hand. Envy pricked at Jordan’s skin. That was all anyone wanted. Should be simple to find, right?

They moseyed to the next few booths, chatting with her friend and Cress until parting at the end of the row. A roasted corn on the cob, some flavored water, and several herbed-cheese crostini later, she realized an entire hour had passed without her once thinking about Mrs. McGraw.

“Chicken meatball?”

A tray of deliciousness swept under her nose, and she cursed her feet for ambling to Barb’s booth on their own.

Josh’s dark hair brushed the top of his crisp white collar and his blue eyes popped bluer against the black apron.

Crinkles formed around his eyes. Funny that she hadn’t noticed them earlier.

They were close to the same height when she wore kitten heels.

“Seasoned with Italian spices and cheese, so I’m not sure how this fits with your kosherness.”

Behind him, a woman in a white coat kept the electrical burners busy, churning out the chicken. Could he be a cupcake without circulating among guests, or were places like this out of bounds since he was too easy to corner?

She reached for a toothpick.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” His voice went quiet and she leaned closer to hear him. “Not at Plates of Macon, but at Barb’s booth. Since I’m here.”

“I haven’t spent the last eight years avoiding you, Josh.”

“If I can do anything to lessen the awkwardness of me being at Fountenoy Hall, let me know.”

“It wasn’t awkward.” She almost believed herself. “It’s…I was really worried about you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jordan waited, but no other explanation was forthcoming. The awkwardness wouldn’t matter anyway, if she took the job with Mrs. McGraw. She stabbed a meatball and popped it in her mouth.

Hmmmm. Using chicken made the dish lighter and let the savory garlic and oregano play a melody with her taste buds. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” Barb shook the pan over the burner. “It’s Josh’s recipe. He let me steal it for my new menu item.”

“I can do more than make scrambled eggs and peach fritters.” His lips curled up a little at the corners.

His little flash of humor got her right in her belly. She tried to ignore it, knowing he wasn’t interested in her, hiding behind the multitude of cupcake bakers or retreating behind his cooking.

He took the toothpick from her hand and tossed it in the small trash can by his feet. “You’re tense.”

“No, I’m not.”

He offered the meatballs to a passing couple. “Like you were after that phone call at breakfast.” He punctuated that observation with his silent stare.

It unnerved her, the way he could crawl under her skin with a few words. “I’m just thinking.”

“You have that look.” He handed her one of Barb’s cards.

She automatically handed him one for Fountenoy Hall, and he cracked that half-smile again. Like he didn’t already have the contact information. “What look?”

“Like the one you used to get when a power hitter was at bat. You get a line between your eyebrows. Right here.” He smoothed his thumb over her furrowed brow.

She sucked in a breath at the sensation. This was the first time he’d touched her in a significant way. The intoxicating glide of his fingers shot straight to her core.

She took a step back, her skin growing cold at the loss of his touch. “I have a decision to make. That’s all.”

He remained silent, his eyes fixed on hers as if the steady attention would make her talk.

It almost did, but she stood her ground.

“Then make a choice and own it.” He moved into the booth and added more chicken meatballs to his platter.

Like asking him about That Night. Now wasn’t the most opportune time, but his touch had loosened her reserve. The question might cause him to retreat into the silent shell, but if she didn’t do it now, she’d never find the courage.

It took effort to keep her tone light and conversational. “Okay, you speak from experience, then. That morning, eight years ago. You certainly owned that choice.”

Josh froze, his hand that gripped the toothpicks suspended in midair. “I had to.”

“Oh, of course.” She kept her face neutral, but she slapped the program against her thigh. “You had to.”

She waited for him to say more, but he remained silent.

He was sorely mistaken if he thought she was going to accept that answer with no other explanation. “Why did you have to?”

He stabbed a few meatballs and glared at her, his eyes piercing. “It had nothing to do with you.”

“I never said it did.”

He nodded as if that was the end of the conversation. She waited for him to speak again, but nothing else came out of that infuriating mouth.

“You’re the one who said I should own my decisions, and I finally decided to get an answer as to why you snuck out of my apartment and left me. Just left me, without a word or text or anything. I’ve got it now. You’re just an asshole.”

She spun and strode away from Barb’s booth. The squeak of shoes followed, with Josh moving behind her with his cat-like grace. He grasped her arm and led her toward a door marked for vendors.

He would have stopped, she knew, if she dug in her heels, but her body overrode any sense of pride. She followed, almost running along with the length and speed of his strides. He pushed open the door and stopped behind it, his breath coming hard and fast.

His breath fanned her skin, his face inches from her own. His full lips paused millimeters from hers before closing the scant distance.

Oh, God. He tasted even better now than he had eight years ago.

She twisted her fingers in the waves of his hair, enjoying the softness.

His lips feasted on hers as if she was an exotic delicacy, nibbling and tasting and savoring.

He backed her against the wall, their bodies perfectly aligned, the heavenly feel of his taut muscles against her.

His hands ran along her ribs and down her skirt, leaving a trail of heat to her core.

She squirmed against him, wanting that feeling all over.

Footsteps squeaked down the hall, along with someone whistling. Jordan froze, and Josh lay his hand on her head, letting her hide in his shoulder until the person entered the event.

Oh, God. This was a mistake. The fire and chemistry meant nothing without trust. Jordan took a step back, fighting to control her breathing, and pushed him back with a hand on his chest. His heart pounded hard against her palm.

Her traitorous body may be ready to take a risk but there was still too much of the unknown. Too many bakers in his kitchen. Too much still unanswered between them.

She turned on her heel and fled back into the event without saying a word.