Page 520 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

"I’ve seen everything I need to see. Goodbye." He turns to leave.

Think! You need to say something to stop him. You cannot afford to piss off the one guy who might be able to help save your bakery.

"Wait, don’t you want to taste my wares?" I burst out.

He freezes mid-step. His shoulders seem to swell.

The planes of his back rise and fall, and the jacket pulls even tighter.

Is he going to burst out of his skin and go all Hulk on me?

I swallow. And when he turns slowly and makes a growling sound at the back of his throat, I have to stop the yelp that almost spills from my mouth.

Every single cell in my body has woken up and is doing the hula.

Stop that. You can’t feel this drawn to this…

to this arrogant beast who rejected you.

But I also need his help. I have to save my business from going bust. And if that means swallowing my pride, then so be it. I tip up my chin and straighten my back. "I… I mean, maybe you want to taste my Honey Pot?" Ugh. Didn’t mean it to come out like that.

His left eyelid twitches, and he seems one step closer to either having a breakdown or walking away. Neither of which is desirable.

"Oh, shoot. What I meant to say is, you’ll definitely like the Purple Patches." I point to the range of cupcakes showcased under the counter. "Or of course, you could try The C1itasaurus?"

"The whatasaurus?" He tilts his head. His gaze is, once again, fixed on my mouth. My thighs clench, and moisture laces the flesh between my legs. I push away the burst of awareness which seems to have stuck its claws into my skin. No way am I going to give in to his magnetism, which has only multiplied in the years since I last saw him. Especially not when his jerkhole factor hasn’t reduced either.

It's always been a mystery to me why I found his arrogance such a turn on. Now, I’m also reminded of how he always managed to get on my nerves.

Not that it stopped me from throwing myself at him.

A mistake I’m not going to make again. When I named that particular cupcake, it seemed like a stroke of genius.

Having to pronounce it aloud in front of the Hulk, however, negates any laughs I’ve had about it so far.

"Uh, you know what I mean?" The color of my cheeks deepens and spreads to my chest. My entire body seems like it’s on fire.

"No, I don’t," he says in a low, hard voice.

I shiver. "You know that…that… pink pastry between the blue cakes that looks like…

" I glance around, then slide open the glass door to the under-counter area.

I pull on a pair of gloves, reach in and, instead of the C!

itasaurus, slide one of the fig-shaped desserts onto a plate.

I place it on the counter. "Actually, I think you should eat my Moist Goodness, and everything will be clear to you, and—"

I hear a gnashing sound, and when I dare to peek a glance at Mr. Grouchy Face, the muscles of his jaw ripple. Oh no, at this rate he’s going to crack a molar. Or two. I blink rapidly, “Maybe we should start afresh?”

“Start afresh?” he asks in a tone that implies he’d rather have never met me.

Yeah, me too. Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury. “You know, pretend we don’t know each other. Pretend the last few minutes never happened?” Pretend that kiss is not seared into my brain, and into other parts of my body I’m not going to think about.

I hold out my hand. “Skylar Potter.” Then, because I hate my life and because, apparently, the connection between my brain and my mouth has been lost under the force of his glower, I smile. "No relation to Harry, as you’re aware."

"Harry?" He looks at my slim, pink-tipped fingers, then back at my face, and makes no move to shake my hand.

I set my jaw. Oh, my god, he’s so rude, I should slap one of the pies baking in my oven into his face; only, they’re too good to waste.

Also, I can’t risk messing up a pie when I need every sale I can get.

Every part of me wants to turn and run out of here.

But I can’t. I owe it to myself, to my dream, to give this one last shot.

I will not give up easily. I will not. I will stay polite, even if it kills me.

I manage to bare my teeth in the resemblance of a smile.

"You know, Harry Potter? Boy wizard? Evanesco.

" I pretend to flick my wand in his direction.

His jaw hardens further.

He looks pissed. The tips of his ears have turned white. Also, the end of his nose. Also, the vanishing spell on him didn’t work. His Royal Dickness is still here, larger than life and glowering at me.

"I’m totally immersed in the Potterverse. Oh, and Taylor Swift. I love Taylor Swift.” I beam at him.

His frown deepens.

“I’m guessing you’re not a Swiftie?” I nod.

“What’s that?” he asks in a contemptuous tone.

“Those of us who love Taylor Swift call ourselves Swifties.”

“Sounds contagious,” he sneers.

I ignore his cantankerous attitude because I need to charm him. And because I do need him to fork over the money I need. “I love her songs, don’t you?" I chirrup.

His fingers curl into fists at his sides. Which is not a good sign. Then, because I love to go from the sublime to the surreal, I smile even wider. "Guess which Hogwarts’s house Taylor Swift belongs to?" I toss my hair over my shoulder.

“Hogwhat?" He seems like he’s about to have a cardiac event. Or like he went to sleep and woke up in an alternate reality. This is bad. So bad. And I have to go and put my foot in it by prompting him, "Hogwarts."

"Hogwhat?" he snaps again.

This time, the light goes on in my brain. "Oh, you haven’t heard of Hogwarts." I snicker. "That’s okay, I wasn’t alive when man landed on the moon." Don’t say it, don’t say it. "Unlike you."

He blinks slowly.

Zip your lips. Just shut up already. "Not that I'm implying you're old or anything. The grey in your hair adds to your distinguished appearance. Besides, you’re only fifteen years older than me." Oh shoot, I don’t think that makes it better.

The veins on his throat stand out in relief.

I try to swallow, but my throat is so dry, it feels like sharp knives line my gullet.

I flick out a tongue to wet my lip, and his eyes gleam.

He watches my mouth with a predatory gaze.

Every part of his body seems to have turned to stone, watching me with such intensity, he seems to have turned into a predator who’s planning every possible way to jump me.

The silence deepens. It doesn’t stop me from shaking a finger at him. "You, mister, need a crash course in pop culture. Although, I suppose I shouldn’t expect someone who has grey at his temples to have a sense of the zeitgeist."

"The fuck you talking about?" he bites out through gritted teeth.

"Whoa, hold on, no need to show me your horns now.

" Although, I’d love to see the one between your legs.

"In fact, you look so angry, I'm expecting you to breathe fire at any moment.

" You can turn into a dragon and carry me away anytime.

"And seriously, you should taste this." I push the plate with the moist, pink and purple, fig-shaped cake in his direction. It has a silver button between the lips and there’s glitter around it.

"My desserts are awesome; one bite, and you’ll be a convert." I nod.

He stares.

"Unless you’re worried, you’ll get addicted to my sweet bits." I tip up my chin.

Did I say my sweet bits? I did say my sweet bits. Somebody kill me. But he must see the challenge in my eyes, and alpha male that he is, of course, he doesn’t back down.

Without taking his gaze off of my face, he licks the cream from the hollow in the center.

A thousand little fires flare to life under my skin.

I swallow; my breath grows shallow. He bites down on one of the plump lips, and a shiver grips me.

I clutch at the edge of the counter. The pulse at the base of my throat speeds up.

And when he pops the other lip into his mouth, I gulp.

He brings his thumb and forefinger to his mouth and sucks on them, and a breathy moan leaves my lips.

"Not bad." He shrugs.

I stare. "What do you mean, 'not bad'? That is my bestseller.”

"It was okay.” He looks down his nose from his superior height, “I admit, the names you give your baked goods are creative, but I’m not sure that’s enough for me to approve the takeover."

"Takeover?" I stiffen. "Who’s talking about a takeover?"

“It’s the only way I’d consider investing in your business.”

“I only need help,” I say through gritted teeth.

“That’s putting it mildly. I reached out to the bank you took the loan from—”

“You reached out to my bank?” I burst out.

“You don’t think I’d be here without due diligence—”

I cut in, “The terms of my deal with them are confidential.” I lock my fingers together.

“Not when you’re about to go bankrupt. When they realized the Davenport group was considering an acquisition—”

“An investment; a loan; that’s all I’m looking for. Something to tide me over and buy me some time until I get back on my feet.”

“Keep fooling yourself. You might be a good baker—”

“So you did like my dessert?” I declare in a triumphant voice.

“—but you’re not a businessperson, by any stretch of imagination.”

Oh, my god! What I wouldn’t give to wipe that smug look off his face.

“There are ups and downs in any business.” I lock my fingers together. “Things will bounce back.”

“There are ups and downs, and then, there are downs and more downs,” he drawls.

Anger thuds at my temples. I will not lose my temper. I will not.

He slides his hand into his pocket. “Not that I don’t understand your reluctance to sell out.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You’ve invested your sweat and blood, and likely, your entire savings into the venture. Too bad, you didn’t have a financial person advising you.”