“I love hearing you include her, sweetheart,” Grandma Kate said as she took another bite.
“Did you get your roses finished?” Ivan asked after savoring another bite.
“Yes. I still have to put them on the layers and finish the tiers. That’s not quite as time consuming as forming each little petal, though. I should be done in time for the wedding Saturday.”
“Good. I’d love to see the finished product.”
“Sure,” she said with a blush in her cheeks. “It’s probably not as fancy as you might do for the restaurant.”
Ivan shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t care for all the heavy fondant that’s so popular right now. Cake should be light and edible, not like chewing bubblegum, you know?”
“Exactly. I don’t mind using it in small quantities, but some of the pictures I see nowadays look more like sculptures than like cakes. It’s not quite finished but I could take you in the back and show it to you. Would you mind, Samson?” she asked as she picked up her plate and glass.
“Of course not. I think he hoped to get a look at your kitchen anyway,” he said, grinning at Ivan’s nod. He’d been talking about Divine Drip ever since they’d agreed to come for lunch, and the light in his eyes told Samson he approved of what he saw so far. Samson was encouraged by their personal connection over cooking. Ivan rested a hand around her waist as they chatted on the way back to the kitchen.
* * * *
Ivan’s hands twitched with the desire to caress her derriere as she reached across the desk in her office for her cake design book. He glanced out the door and edged closer to her until, when she stood upright, she was flush against his front. He murmured an unapologetic “Oops.”
Looking over her shoulder at him, she bit her lip and said, “You didn’t want to look at my cake, did you?”
“I did. I do. But it’s not the only thing I want.” He pressed his lips to the juncture of her shoulder and her neck, brushing his lower lip across that soft skin of hers until she gasped and shuddered. With cheeks flushed and her eyelids at half-mast, she looked like a seductress. The scent of her skin, clean with a hint of vanilla, made him hungry for more than dessert. “Show me your book, baby.”
Taking a deep breath as if to steady herself, Cassie chuckled and opened the binder she’d placed on the desk. The page protectors were each filled with photographs of cakes she must’ve done in the past, as well as clippings and recipes she’d printed out. She laid the binder flat and pointed. “There it is.”
The cake in the picture was iced smooth with buttercream frosting. The side of each layer was adorned in a different decorating style. Topping each layer and tier were dozens of roses.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. The only difference between the picture and what I’m doing for Violet is the roses on her cake all have just a touch of pink shading brushed on their petals while the rest is all ivory. Here let me show you where I’m at with it now.”
“You created all those roses and then shaded the petals all by hand, too? I’ll bet that’s really something.”
“She’s a good friend,” Cassie said with a smile as she took him by the hand and pulled him into the cooler. “Come ’ere and I’ll show you my petals.”
He’d never thought of food as much of a personal turn-on, but right then, his dick definitely thought so.
His chuckle was dark and suggestive as the door swung against the jamb, giving them the illusion of privacy. “I may need to taste test them, baby. It pays to be thorough, you know?”
* * * *
Samson glanced around the table as he took another mouthwatering bite and happened to catch Grandma Kate watching him with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Samson, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m an emergency dispatcher in Morehead, ma’am. I take 911 calls and help coordinate emergency services.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s a vital and high-pressure job, I imagine.”
“Sometimes, ma’am, but I like the work. I went into the Army right out of high school, and after I returned to civilian life, I served on Morehead’s police department.”
“I noticed you have a slight limp,” she said, raising an eyebrow for him to continue. She was an observant woman to have noticed.
“Yes, ma’am. I took a steel pipe to my knee during a drug raid that went wrong. Busted it up good.”
Hank grunted and shook his head. “My knees ache just thinking about it.”
“Yeah, but I know when the weather’s about to change,” Samson joked. “After I’d recovered, I decided to stay within the department but took a job helping people in emergency situations.”