“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes as he dipped his finger into the batter. “Just a little taste. You’ll be fine.” He dangled his finger dripping with batter in front of her mouth. She shook her head again. “If you get sick, I’ll take care of you until you’re fully recovered.”
“Fine.” She opened her mouth and he slipped his finger inside. Before she could question her motives she snapped her mouth closed, her lips wrapping around his finger.
Slowly he withdrew his finger, but not before she deliberately swirled her tongue around him, making sure to eat every last drop of batter from his finger. “Mm…that’s wonderful.”
“Told you,” he said softly, his dark, hooded eyes burning her up with their intensity. The tension between them ricocheted around the room; she couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to and she didn’t.
“Yes,” she said so softly she didn’t know if he heard her.
Then he leaned forward, his lips only inches from hers, desire singeing the air between them. His citrus cologne mixed with sugar and flour engulfed her, enslaving every one of her senses. She didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her, but at that moment she wouldn’t push him away if he tried. In fact, there was nothing she wanted more than for him to brush his lips across hers, even if it wasn’t for a full-blown kiss. She’d settle for anything he was willing to give.
Dark blue eyes tracked every movement as she tittered forward another inch, unable to resist his magnetic pull. With her lips tingling in anticipation, she licked her lower lip and her eyes closed, heavy from the unadulterated lust rioting in her veins. He released a sigh and his warm breath flitted across her face like a sugary balm.
And then…she heard his chair scrape across the floor and he was gone. Survival instinct alone allowed her to suppress the groan of humiliation scaling the walls of her throat. There’s nothing as cringe-worthy as totally misreading an incoming kiss and allowing her eyes to flutter closed while the guy flees. She rubbed her hands over her face and then stood up.
“It looks like the muffins are in good hands. I really need to check on Dean’s sister and get some sleep.”
Alec didn’t turn to look at her. He busied himself looking for something in his kitchen cabinets. He was really good at the dodge and weave thing, but then again with the way he looked, he probably had to dodge and weave often. “Do you think I can make huckleberry bread instead of muffins?” he asked, setting a loaf pan down on the countertop.
“I don’t see why not.” She shifted back and forth on her feet a couple times. “I guess I forgot about the whole pan thing when I came up with this idea yesterday.”
“No worries.”
“Do you want me to stop by later to get it?”
“No,” he blurted out, turning around to look at her for the first time since the aborted kiss incident. “I’ll bring the bread with me to the Foundation tomorrow.”
“Great. Thanks for your help.”
He smiled, but it was laced with regret or maybe that was just her imagination and she read emotions into a situation where there were none. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t get the opportunity to cook very often anymore. I like it.”
She nodded. “All right, then. See you tomorrow.” She turned and left before the heavy air of awkwardness caused her to say or do anything else she’d regret when she saw him tomorrow in the real world, where men like him didn’t hang out with women like her.
Chapter Seven
Violet held a pillow over her head to block out the noise of her alarm as it streamed loud music into her room. She didn’t finish working at the Foundation last night until almost midnight and it seemed as if she had crawled into bed less than twenty minutes ago, not five hours ago.
At least she didn’t have any meetings with potential donors today, so she could throw her hair into a ponytail and wear one of her many cotton athletic skirts and a t-shirt. Changing light bulbs and cleaning out old storage rooms was really difficult in a suit and heels. She learned that lesson a week and a half ago. She should have gone home and changed at some point, but after her latest potential benefactor for the Foundation turned her down, she was too angry to care and she threw herself into getting work done.
Initially, she didn’t like the idea of handing the fundraising portion of her job to Alec Reed, but after six months of barely raising three thousand dollars, she needed a break and he couldn’t do any worse than she had. She’d been failing miserably for months.
The world had conspired against her and the Foundation from the minute the new owners of the Foundation’s building took control. Almost immediately, charitable donations to the Foundation dried up and she’d only managed to squeeze money out of her parents and one of her friends, Annette. Out of all her high school and college friends, Annette was the only one she kept in touch with. Annette was a bulldog about their friendship, refusing to let more than a week or two pass without doing something together.