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  “Girls, this is Drew Montgomery, Caroline’s friend from the Dallas Journal of Business and Development.”

  “Hi, Drew. I’m Pepper. We met at the wedding.”

  “Hello, I’m Sydney.” He was surprised by her British accent. “I wasn’t at the wedding, so I’ve never had the pleasure until now. It’s lovely to see you.”

  Just then, Caroline entered the kitchen through a back door.

  The mere sight of her kicked up his pulse. For the first time since he couldn’t remember when, he wasn’t sure if he should kiss her in front of her friends or keep a friendly, businesslike distance.

  Since he was there in a professional capacity, he decided to keep it all business...at least until after the interview was over.

  “Look who we have here, Caroline,” Pepper said in a sing-song voice. “Isn’t he just delicious?”

  He laughed. Delicious? Okay, he’d never been called delicious in his entire life.

  Caroline shot him an apologetic look but addressed her friend. “Pepper, really? You’re embarrassing him. Look, you’re making him blush.”

  He liked this lighter, more playful side of her.

  “Whose side are you on?” he asked, joining in.

  By that time she was standing next to him. “Well, your side, of course.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips, showing off for the girls, no doubt. It was slightly more than just a peck, lingering just long enough to make him want to lean in for more but not enough to make her friends suggest that they get a room. On the contrary. When they broke apart, Sydney whistled—an unexpected sound coming from someone with such a proper-sounding voice—a whistle that said, “Oh, Caroline, he is definitely a keeper.”

  Chapter Five

  Tonight was the night.

  Third date night.

  The night that she could finally cast off the pretense of virtue, which for some reason had seemed so important when Caroline had gotten Drew to agree that if there was really going to be something between them that it couldn’t be built on a foundation of sex. So they had restructured and restarted, reintroducing themselves so that they could get to know each other beyond the bedroom.

  She had to give the guy a lot of credit for trying.

  For some reason, at the time they’d made the three-date agreement, it had seemed like a good idea. And really, it was, she reminded herself as she put on her lipstick, gave her hair one last tousle, wanting to look sexy, but not wanting to look like she had tried too hard.

  Thank God, tonight was the night.

  He’d suggested they go out to dinner, but instead, she had called him and said she had a recipe she wanted to try. That since their cake-baking date had gone so well last night—wait, last night was considered a date, wasn’t it? He’d brought her dinner, they’d spent some good quality time together and while the kisses had been red-hot, that’s where it had stopped. There had not been any discussion or debate about stopping or waiting for one more date.

  Actually, this could be considered the fourth date, if you counted when he’d interviewed her and the girls for the Journal earlier that day. Okay, so it was all business and not so much pleasure—except for the kiss. She had seen him across the room, and something magnetic had pulled her to him.

  She smiled to herself as she gave her bedroom one last once-over, making sure that everything was perfect for tonight. She had straightened her dressing table, putting away all of her makeup and creams and perfume. A strategically placed candle with an incidental book of matches lay in wait on the bureau. A brand-new box of condoms was tucked inside her nightstand. She would not be caught unprepared. No how, no way. Nothing would get in the way of the perfect ending to what would be their perfect night.

  With one glance back at her four-poster bed, a white-hot jolt of longing coursed through her, warming her most personal places, places that longed for him. Tonight Drew would share her bed. It would be heaven waking up in his arms tomorrow.

  Caroline made her way to the kitchen, where she set out the ingredients for her chicken marsala recipe. It was a simple dinner, and it wasn’t that she was so terribly excited to try the recipe—in fact, her stomach was a little nervous from the anticipation of seeing him. Really, she had decided cooking for him was the way to go to give them extra time together.

  It was already after eight-thirty. He said that once he finished at the paper it would probably be close to nine o’clock, and then he’d come over. He had to email this week’s laid-out edition to the printer tonight before he left.

  True to his word, Drew arrived shortly before nine o’clock with a bottle of pinot noir to go with the chicken.

  “Come on in,” she said, leaning in and kissing him and then stepping back so he would follow her inside.

  He smelled wonderful—notes of leather from that jacket he always wore, coffee and mint...it made her want to lean in and inhale the very essence of him.

  She took his leather bomber jacket and hung it in the hall closet, then she pointed him in the direction of a corkscrew and two wineglasses she had set out for them. As he opened the bottle and she put the finishing touches on dinner, he talked about the Celebrations, Inc. article he’d written and had gotten off to the printer that night.

  “I really think you’re all going to be pleased when you see it,” he said. “The photo came out great.”

  Simon, the photographer, had taken several different shots: a few solo photos of A.J. in the kitchen; some of her with the lovely spread of food she had put together specifically for the occasion; some mixed shots of A.J. with her friends.

  For the most part, Caroline had done her best to stay out from in front of the camera until Simon and Drew had insisted on a group shot.

  “Which picture did you choose?” Caroline asked, suddenly aware, for the first time, of all the excitement that had erupted over the opportunity to have a profile written about their new business endeavor. The exposure and positive PR it was sure to bring was phenomenal, but because of the article she might to need to explain to her father what she was doing moonlighting for a catering company.

  “The group shot, of course. It’s fabulous.”

  Oh, boy.

  Her father knew that she had invested in A.J.’s business. Or at least she hoped he’d been paying attention on the occasions that she had mentioned she and Pepper had helped A.J. by investing seed money. Sydney had donated her expertise in marketing and PR, since she did not have the capital to invest. But Charles Coopersmith sometimes did not hear his own daughter when she talked to him about things other than Coopersmith & Bales business. He tended to have a one-track mind when it came to issues that did not directly involve him and the business that had been started by his grandfather.

  Caroline had always written it off with the excuse that her father’s one-track mind was what made him so successful. In fact, sometimes she wished her heart could be so doggedly dedicated to the family business. It sure would make life easier. She would be set financially—though of course she wouldn’t have a life to speak of outside of the hallowed halls of Coopersmith & Bales, as evidenced by her father.

  But Caroline had wanted more out of life. Not more money or more power. She wanted more of what was real—a husband, kids, the time and freedom to be there for her family rather than working seventy-hour weeks and being either so exhausted or preoccupied in the off hours that she was emotionally absent.

  As she dished up the chicken, glancing at Drew as he poured wine into the goblets on the table, she thought, I want more times like this, times like we had when we were baking last night.

  Her heart was close to overflowing. Yes. This is exactly what I want. The other thing she knew for sure was that she did not want to be the stand-in for the son her father never had. Her sister, Claudia, had been groomed to graduate from college with a token degree—something nonthreatening that would educate her, but their mother had raised her ultimately to be a wife and mother.

  On the other hand, after it became app
arent that he would not have a son, Charles Coopersmith had decided that Caroline, as his eldest daughter, would be the one to carry on the Coopersmith family legacy and step into his shoes once he retired. That fateful day was staring her down. The party was being planned. But she still had not formally given her father the word that she would take hold of the reins when he officially stepped down. He had been grooming her, and when she shared her ambivalence about accepting the promotion, he always reminded her that he’d pulled every string he could reach to ensure that Caroline had gotten into Harvard Business School. The way she could repay him was to make sure that the family legacy continued, to uphold the Coopersmith tradition of excellence in honor of all Coopersmiths past and those yet to come.

  And now what did she want to do with her Harvard education? In the instant that she took the wineglass that Drew offered her and she clinked her glass to his, she knew. She wanted to bake cakes...and have Drew Montgomery’s children.

  As they ate dinner, she expressed her trepidations about being in the photo.

  “I wish I would’ve asked you to run one of the shots without me in it. Or at least crop me out. Is it too late to recall the paper and crop me out?” she asked.

  Drew simply laughed. “Sorry, the ink on the first hundred is probably already dry by now. Why are you so worried?”

  She weighed her words. She was thirty-three years old and her father still dictated her life. It had been that way for so long—well, basically all her life—that she really did not think about it—except on the occasions when she brushed against the truth that she was going to have to make a decision about her future sooner than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t see the absurdity of how she allowed her father to push her around until times like this...when she had to admit that she wasn’t living the life she wanted to live.

  “Well, you see,” she said. “My father doesn’t know that I actually work for Celebrations, Inc. He knows I’ve invested. Investing—as in being a silent partner—is one thing in his eyes. Actually baking and selling my baked goods is quite another.”

  Drew looked at her as if he were trying to understand. “So, is that why during the interview you stayed in the background? I noticed how you let your friends take the lead and tell me about the birth of Celebrations, Inc. and where they see it going.”

  Even though it was a little embarrassing to admit that, yes, that was the reason, she said, “Well, yes, that and most of the time, I can’t get a word in edgewise when we’re all in the same room. But that’s just the nature of our friendship. I don’t feel slighted or otherwise compromised by their gregariousness.”

  She had loved the way Drew kept glancing at her during the interview, the way they exchanged knowing smiles as she had allowed her friends to dominate the conversation. It was as if she and Drew had their own telepathic dialogue going on, their own private conversation in the midst of her friends’ excited retelling of stories and anecdotes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before now?” he asked. “Even though the group shot was the best of the lot, you know I’d never do anything to purposely make you uncomfortable. Although, if you tell any of my journalistic colleagues that I gave you the option to dictate the direction of my article and photo, I’ll be forced to deny it. My journalistic integrity would be at stake.” He winked at her. “But seriously, why did you not say something before now?”

  Why hadn’t she? She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t completely decided where Celebrations, Inc. fits in my life beyond my investment. I mean, Coopersmith & Bales is... It’s my family legacy. It’s on my shoulders at least until one of Claudia’s kids grows up and takes his place...or her place.”

  And Claudia’s kids weren’t even born yet. Basically, if she planned to pass the torch to one of Claudia’s kids, she was sentencing herself to life at Coopersmith & Bales without a chance of parole, not until she was in her sixties at least. What did it say about her feelings if she was equating her life’s work to a prison sentence?

  “Maybe you didn’t say anything because you want your father to know?” Drew suggested.

  Yes...maybe...

  “No...I just didn’t think about the implications until now. Look, I don’t want to talk about this tonight. I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good dinner worrying about something that I can’t solve overnight anyway.”

  It was true. While she did need to make a firm decision about her future at Coopersmith & Bales soon, there was no point in worrying about it now.

  Drew stood up and took her by the hand and led her to the living room. For a second, she thought about steering him toward the bedroom, but she released the need for control just as fast as the idea had popped into her head.

  Relax. Just go with it.

  Since they’d agreed they would wait and get to know each other, Caroline had been imagining what it would be like to make love to him in her own bed. To spoon with him all night. To wake up in his arms the next morning.

  Relax. Just go with it, she reminded herself. Live in the moment. Right now.

  He put his arms around her and dusted her lips with kisses that trailed down her throat.

  Forget the bedroom. She wanted him right there.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his lips still brushing hers ever so slightly.

  “Oh, you have no idea how okay I am right now,” she said, a little breathless.

  He cradled her face in his palms and pressed his forehead to hers in that way that she had come to love. His sultry smile teased her, unleashing a need that had her longing to tell him exactly how many different ways she had imagined this moment—his kiss, his body, him in her bed. They no longer had to wait to enjoy each other.

  But before the words could find their way past her lips, he led her to the couch, and his hands locked on her waist, as if he was taking possession of her body...and heart. She wanted to tell him he could have them. Both of them were already his, but she did not have to say it. He already seemed to understand.

  She tucked herself into his chest, buried her face in his shirt, breathed in the scent of him—that delicious smell of cedar, coffee and leather. The scent that was so him that it hit her in a certain place that rendered her weak in the knees.

  She breathed in deeply and melted into the heat of his body.

  He smoothed a lock of hair off her forehead, kissed the skin he’d just uncovered and searched her eyes. She answered him with a kiss that said, Yes, I want this. I want you, as she savored the warmth of him, the scent of his skin that clung to him the same way she wanted to cling to him because she wanted them to be that close.

  He kissed her softly, gently, until her fingers found their way into his thick, dark hair, pulling him close, closer—until they were kissing with a need so furious it was all-consuming.

  The next thing she knew, his hands had found hers, and he laced their fingers together. She looked at his hands entwined in hers. They were big and handsome—masculine hands. They lingered a moment, gripping, flexing, hesitating, as if he were silently giving her one last chance to change her mind, to flee, to back out of what was about to happen.

  But no, she wanted it to happen.

  My God, it’s finally going to happen... Oh, how I’ve missed this.

  A rush of red-hot need spiraled through her. He must have read it in her face, because he let go of her hands and his arms closed around her. In a fevered rush, he claimed her mouth, her mind, her reason.

  Her fingers slipped into his curly dark hair again and held him close as her lips parted on a sigh and gave him full permission to take possession of every inch of her, as she clung to him, relishing the closeness. There was no mistaking his need, his desire. She could feel it grow as his hands swept down the outer edge of her body to claim her derriere.

  Then somehow, in a heated whirlwind of passion, his hands slid underneath her sweater, finding bare skin. The contact of skin on skin made her breathe in sharply.

  A warm palm slipped under her bra and splayed ov
er one of her breasts. His fingers moved from one nipple to the other and then trailed down her belly, where they lingered and played, tracing small circles that made her stomach muscles tighten and spasm in agonizing pleasure. Then his hand slid even farther still, teasing its way down to the edge of her skirt’s waistband, toward a silken, hidden place that had been begging for his touch. But all he did was trace the edge of her waistband.

  She tried to live in the moment, focusing only on that second...but the way she needed him was driving her to the brink of insanity, especially the way he was kissing her neck.

  Driven by passion, her fingers swept over his tight shoulders and muscled arms, exploring the firm sinew before going south and discovering the curve of his derriere. She pulled him even closer so that the hardness of him pressed into her, urging her legs to part, proving to her that his need was as strong as hers.

  He claimed her mouth again, capturing her tongue, teasing her until she almost couldn’t bear it any longer. But with every fiber of her being she concentrated on the moment, until she thought she would burst with longing.

  Finally, she tried to maneuver her hands to the button of his jeans, needing to push them away and get rid of the barriers between them so that they stood naked and wanting. Together. As unselfconscious as they were that first night together.

  But he stopped her, holding her so close that she could hear his heart beat.

  “I have to go now.” His voice sounded hoarse and raspy.

  He was leaving? For a moment, she thought she had heard him wrong. But when she looked up at him, she read in his eyes that she had, indeed, heard him correctly. But, through the haze of her need, she saw him smiling down at her. His lips were swollen and red, and she desperately want to taste them again.

  But he wanted to leave?

  Now?

  “What? Drew, why?” she asked, doubt suddenly flooding her senses. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not a single thing is wrong,” he said. “I want you in the worst way. It’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep from making love to you right now. But I know how important it is to you to believe that what we have is even more powerful than the want and need I’m feeling for you right now.” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, inhaling then exhaling a deep breath before he looked at her again. “But the next time I see you...” His sultry smile made her want to take him right there. To hell with next time.