Page 10 of The Sweetmate (Check-In #2)

Lisa

When we return to the room, I walk straight to the bedroom and take a few moments to compose myself.

I’m being ridiculous. Everything is fine.

There was a moment of flirting—me being more brazen than I’ve ever been in my life, and him acting jealous over me enjoying dessert.

Other than those weird moments, the meeting went wonderfully.

We have a game plan. Everything. Is. Fine.

I plan to spend the rest of the evening doing my best to avoid Casey so there’s no risk of us sharing another heated look.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him as a boy wanting to bake.

He seems like the guy who would’ve easily been the most popular jock at school.

But he wasn’t. He faced his own insecurities and peer pressure.

Which explains a lot. I’m no psychologist, but his need to flirt and be over-the-top charming must come from trying to prove himself.

He could easily get any of those guys’ wives now—any woman he wants.

But it’s not enough for him to know it; he wants the world to know it.

Except now, all that has backfired. He’s being made out to be a manwhore, when at the end of the day, he’s just a silly, overgrown boy.

It’s all lies. He isn’t that guy, but it’s like he can’t help himself.

It’s a habit or reflex for him to seduce.

Yet knowing all this, I still keep falling for him.

I melt every time he throws me that smile full of delicious promises, when I know it’s simply his charisma and past trauma speaking.

He’s not serious about his attraction toward me.

I have to remember that, because he’s easily the type of guy I could see myself getting a broken heart over.

My phone dings.

Mr. Casey Riis: Can you please join me in the kitchen?

So much for trying to avoid him for the rest of the evening. I’m tempted to make up an excuse, but that’s unprofessional and cowardly. I can do this.

Me: I’ll be right there, sir.

I’m shaking when I enter the room. Casey is wearing nothing but a black apron and black dress pants.

No shirt. Bare feet. Messy hair. Both dread and excitement course through my veins.

The man standing at the counter has my emotions all over the place.

My heart is beating so fast, and desire pools in my stomach.

I hate that I find him desirable—more than anyone I’ve ever met.

I find it hard to keep myself focused, which isn’t like me.

Professional. I must remain professional. I need to bury this desire deep, deep down.

“Have a seat. Please.”

I sigh in defeat and take my seat. Casey places a small white plate in front of me. It’s a smooth custard with caramel syrup overflowing on top, with a golden puddle surrounding the silky dessert. And for the topping, there are colorful fresh berries.

“This looks incredible.” The temptation to shove my face into this is borderline desperate.

I force my eyes to look away from the little plate of heaven to meet his gaze.

I blink in surprise. He’s searching my face for a reaction.

Understanding dawns on me. He was jealous of the flan.

I work on maintaining a neutral expression.

I’m not sure how to respond. The fact that he put in the effort to show up the other flan is making me feel all warm inside.

But wait…

Is he doing this as a sweet gesture or for his precious ego?

I pick up the spoon. “You made this for me?” I beam, and he nods eagerly. “Is it poisoned?” My brow arches.

“That’s the secret ingredient.” He winks.

“Ouch. What’d you use?”

“Please. Allow me to maintain a little mystery. It’s called a secret ingredient.”

“But I’ll be dead. There’ll be no spilling the beans from these lips.” My head tilts up at him as I bring the spoon to my lips.

“Those lips are locked up pretty tight. But I suspect in a few days, I’ll have you loosened up.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

“Maybe I’m a woman of few words.”

“Then what a privilege it is for me to be on the receiving end of them. Care to spare me a few more words by sharing your verdict?” He gestures toward the flan.

I maintain eye contact with him as I place the spoon inside my mouth and then slide it between my lips.

I forget about Casey. I completely zone out, possibly on the verge of blacking out.

My soul might have left my body. Food isn’t capable of giving you an out-of-body experience, yet here we are.

The foodgasm is real. I’m helpless to keep my eyes open.

They’ve already rolled to the back of my head.

I swallow the flan with a side of moaning.

Ever so slowly, I come back down to earth and feel his presence looming over me. Peeking out of one eye, I growl, “Don’t say anything.”

“I want to hear you say it.” His voice is filled with eager anticipation for me to sing his praises.

“Nope, nope, nope.” I slide the chair back as I stand. I grab the plate of flan and scurry to my bedroom. His laughter follows me but I don’t care. I’m going to shamelessly eat this whole thing.

After a few bites, Casey yells through the door. “I can hear you! And I’m taking it that mine is better! You don’t have to say the words! Your moans are all the admission I need, cupcake!”

Cupcake? What a stupid nickname. Whatever. He’s not going to ruin my moment.

“Let me enjoy this in peace!” I yell back.

His only reply is his goofy, sexy, deep laugh. I can’t stand that man.