“This is terrible,” he said between chuckles. “We can’t eat this.”
“We’ve got the wedding cakes, right? Who says dinner can’t be cake and wine?”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, pushing his plate back. “Stay there and I’ll get it.”
Relaxing back into her chair, Allison sipped her wine as Darian cleared the table. He returned with fresh plates and a dozen tiny boxes.
“The baker wanted to make sure we were thoroughly happy with our cake selection,” he explained, sliding back into his seat. “We’ve got little replicas of all the cakes we could possibly order.”
She opened the first box to see a perfect miniature cake in delicate white icing. A flag was stuck in the middle with the name of the cake flavor on it.
“You’re telling me we get to sit here and eat twelve gorgeous cakes?”
“Pretty much,” he said, pulling another cake free from its box and then setting it on the table.
“Best date ever.”
He paused, glancing in her direction.
Realizing what her idiotic brain had made her say, she quickly tried to explain away the words. “You know what I meant,” she said as heat flooded her cheeks.
A sharp nod was his response. “Open the rest. Let’s get them all out on the table.”
Thankful to have something to do, she freed all the cakes and tossed the boxes to the ground on the other side. Luckily Darian’s family-sized dining table had more than enough space to accommodate all the little samples.
“They look amazing,” she said. Just imagining biting into them had her mouth watering in anticipation. “Should we cut slices?”
“It’s just us. No need for ceremony.” Darian stabbed his fork into the nearest cake.
Following his lead, she descended on the cake before her. “Mmmm, lemon.”
“Try the red velvet,” he said, pushing it toward her as he reached for another.
“How are we ever going to choose just one? What kind does Jenny like?”
“My sister will eat anything with sugar. Whatever we say goes.”
She’d tried half the cakes when Darian groaned in pleasure. “You have to taste this,” he said, holding out a forkful to her.
Part of her balked at the intimate gesture, but the other part, the part enjoying the company of an attractive man, leaned forward and accepted the bite, her eyes on his.
Slowly he pulled the fork back, leaving her with a mouthful of sinfully good chocolate cake.
“Wow,” she breathed. “Is that a hint of raspberry?”
“You’ve got a little bit of icing,” he said, reaching out.
Allison froze as his thumb caressed the edge of her mouth.
“Got it.” His voice sounded hoarser than it had a moment ago.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Did we just find the winning cake?” he asked, not moving back.
She should turn away from his lips, but they were temptingly close to hers.
“It gets my vote.” Was that her voice? So breathy and soft?
Allison tried to call up the logical side of her brain. The part of her able to articulate all the reasons why she shouldn’t lean closer and take what her body demanded. He was so close. Smelled so good. They were all alone here. No one ever had to know what happened behind closed doors.
It was only her pride on the line, after all. Yes, if he pushed her away she’d need to hide under a rock for the next few weeks, but that was the only price attached to this decision. Once she quit, she’d probably never see him again. The powerful CEO and his errant assistant? This wasn’t a Disney fairytale. Real life was far crueler. When she handed in her notice, she’d be gone, and he’d replace her in a few days. Out of sight, out of mind.
The only relationship she could wreck tonight was one with a three-week time limit.
Wasn’t a night with Darian worth more than that?
“There’s still the carrot cake to try,” he said, but his eyes were fixed on her mouth.
It’s my choice, she realized. He wasn’t going to cross the line with his assistant.
Didn’t mean she couldn’t blast through it all on her own.
Thank god for liquid courage, she thought. If she was about to be rebuked, she had no doubt the rejection would be seared into her mind for years to come.
“Ali?”
The soft sound of her name on his lips was her undoing.
She surged forward, her hands cupping his face as she pressed her mouth to his.
Adrenaline spiked through her veins. She was kissing Darian freaking King.
The sane part of her mind demanded she pull away, but the rest of her figured in for a penny, in for a pound.
She slanted her lips over his, trying to coax a response. Had it truly been all in her head? Had there been no moment in the gazebo? Had their last four years together merely built a platonic friendship?