His Ransom 4(6)

“I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of it,” Steph said, tilting her head coyly.

“Then you’ll have to let me tell you all about how amazing we are,” Clint said.

He smiled at Steph in a way that made me think Andy was going to be very disappointed tonight. And strangely enough, I saw Lucas Black watching them as they moved away toward the plate of bruschetta. Rachel hung back nervously, her eyes tracking Clint and Steph.

I laughed. Clint and Steph were both so outgoing that I wondered who would come out on top.

“Ohh,” Andy said, watching them go. “You didn’t tell me that Clint freaking Terrance was going to be here!”

“I didn’t know,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve never heard of his band either.”

“I’m surrounded by philistines,” Andy sighed, staring like a preteen girl at the rock star. He’s an absolute dream. Did I say I liked blondes? Blondes be damned.”

“Lacey, shall we?”

Jake held out a hand toward me, looking toward the dining room where Steph and Clint were headed. I let him wrap his hand around the small of my back. His fingers slid down a little too far.

“Easy now,” I whispered. “The guests have arrived.”

“Just checking to make sure your panties were still off,” Jake whispered back. “I have plans for later tonight.”





Chapter Three

Lucas Black spent the entire dinner trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes off of Steph. She was sitting directly across from him, and the dress she was wearing was definitely one of the ones she called “my fuck-me dresses.”

I didn’t know there were different kinds of dresses, but Steph had educated me upon my arrival in New York. There were church dresses and going out dresses and clubbing dresses and first date dresses and coffee date dresses and so many others I couldn’t even remember.

Now, Lucas Black’s line of sight had a wide angle of her ample cleavage. I don’t know if she was doing it on purpose, but it worked—she had the men’s attention. Well, except for Andy and Jake, who was probably struggling not to drift a glance over her chest.

Clint Terrance, rock star extraordinaire, spent most of the evening making sarcastic quips in between the two redheads he’d brought with him. They tittered appropriately, but I noticed that his gaze kept wandering over. Not to Belle, not to Steph, but to Rachel. Rachel, on the other hand, wasn’t looking back at him at all. I wondered if she hated rock music that much.

Lucas was getting a little too excited about the business possibilities of cupcakes, and Andy interrupted their conversation about Steph’s cupcake business. Lucas’s date gave a small sigh of relief.

“When she was seven, Steph wanted to be the most famous baker in New York,” Andy said. “Do you want to know what she did one Christmas?”

“What?”

“Oh, Andy, don’t tell this story.” Steph put her face in her hands.

“It’s fine, sis,” he said, laughing. “She was just starting to learn how to bake with Mom, and so she decided to make Christmas cinnamon buns all on her own. As the dutiful young brother, of course, I was her assistant.”

“You were the worst assistant,” she corrected.

“I do not dispute that,” Andy said, holding up a finger. “And that was why, when she told me to put in a scoop of yeast, I scooped up a handful of yeast and threw it in there.”

“We went to watch a cartoon while the dough rose,” Steph said. “You see where this is going.”

Half of the table was already chuckling. Lucas Black was looking at Steph with so much attention that his date had relegated herself to glaring at him.

“And by the time we got back—”

“The dough was everywhere! It had risen up over the bowl and spilled all over the table. We tried to scrape it up, but it was all over the wrapping paper, ribbons, tape—it was on everything!”

“Mom was so mad,” Andy said.

“Ugh!” Steph said, throwing up her hands in mock frustration. “Just be glad you don’t have a brother!”

Jake didn’t react, but every other person in the room did. Lucas’s shoulders tensed noticeably, and his date’s head snapped toward Jake as though expecting a response.

Steph immediately realized what she had said.

“Oh,” she stammered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“That’s perfectly alright.” Jake said with a pinched smile.

“I guess you were always meant to rise above your beginnings as a chef,” Clint quipped.

The table laughed, but it was forced laughter. The redheads stole quick peeks over at Jake to see what his reaction was going to be. He only smiled and the conversation moved on.