Edible

  He lowered his face another inch closer to hers. “No, not there either.”

  For one insane and anticipatory moment, Rachel thought he was going to kiss her. God help me, I want him to.

  However, at the last moment, he moved his head to the side so when he turned, his mouth intimately brushed her ear, causing a shiver to run straight up Rachel’s spine.

  “I mean, at the place where you put on a uniform and play a part. I mean, at Whipped.”

  Rachel slowly turned her head, narrowing her eyes at the man who was now an inch from her face. How is he making the crowded tunnel feel as though it has emptied out and we are the only two standing here?

  “Excuse me?” were the only words Rachel could seem to find and project.

  “You see, Rachel—”

  Oh god, the way my name sounds rolling off his tongue and slipping past those seriously lickable lips…

  “The coat is a nice touch, but I’m sure if you took it off and threw a few stern words around, then maybe, just maybe, Riley would recognize you.”

  Now that coming from his mouth reminded her of exactly who he was and how he knew her. Rachel got her ass in gear and took a step back, squaring her shoulders. “Well, as lovely as this has been, I’m already running late.”

  She turned, ready to walk away with her dignity still somewhat intact, when his parting line reached her ears and made her blood boil.

  “Yes, tardiness is really not something to be proud of. It shows such a lack of dedication to your destination.”

  Twirling on the ball of her foot, Rachel took a step back toward the arrogant, infuriating wall of a man and tilted up her chin to him in a way that told him she was not running or backing down. “As far as I’m aware, I didn’t ask you to give an opinion.”

  Those calculating eyes focused on her as he dipped his head, acknowledging her response. “You’re right.”

  Rachel waited for a moment, sensing another annoying comment was about to come out of his mouth. Instead though, he stuck his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out something wrapped in white wax paper.

  Is that candy? she thought as he methodically unwrapped it.

  Keeping her eyes on his hands that were so dexterous she felt hypnotized, Rachel felt dazed when he pulled the candy from the wrapper and brought it up to his mouth, pushing it in between those fantasy-inspiring lips. Without a word, he refolded the wrapper. He didn’t ball it up or crinkle it; he folded it perfectly before pushing it back into his pocket.

  Locking eyes with her, his mouth shifted in a way that let Rachel know he was sucking on the little square he had put in there, and she found she couldn’t move or remember what they had been discussing. Rather, all her concentration had zeroed in on his hard jaw that was flexing with each suck of—What did he put in his mouth?

  “What was that?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  When he tilted his head to the side, Rachel couldn’t help but notice his left cheek bulge slightly as he pushed the candy into it. That was when he began to move, like a wolf on the hunt. As he took two steady steps forward, Rachel found herself retreating faster than she cared to admit. Standing against the side of the tunnel wall, she watched a smooth smile appear on his face, mocking her. He should have looked ridiculous, standing there in the subway walkway with candy shoved in his mouth, but no, he appeared to be the furthest thing from ridiculous that she could think of.

  Sinful was what popped into her head—as if she needed the adjective to describe what her body was already screaming. The other thing her body and brain were in agreement on was run.

  Run far, far away.

  “Would you like a taste, Rachel?”

  Gripping her bag tightly, she refused to cower. She took a deep breath and lifted up her chin to look him directly in the eye. There was no way she would let him intimidate her, and that was exactly what he was trying to do.

  Catch me off-guard? Get me to lower my defenses? I don’t think so.

  “And if I said yes?”

  If you say yes, I’m going to have a hard time not pushing my tongue between those brazen fucking lips, was what Cole wanted to say as he looked down at the feisty woman in the tight leather pants.

  Cole rolled the sugary confection across his tongue, moving it to the other side of his mouth, as he watched her eyes zero in on his lips. It was hard to believe it was rush hour downtown right now because, as far as he was concerned, the only other person in existence was the enigma who was Rachel.

  So, let’s test a theory. Cole took the final step he needed. His coat was now brushing hers, and his shiny black Ferragamos were toe-to-toe with her black flats. Will she be brave? Or will she run?

  He wasn’t usually a betting man unless poker counted, and he was pretty fucking good at that now. But if he were to place a bet, he’d bet that she would run.

  Bending down just enough so their faces were back on the same level, he wasn’t surprised when she kept her blue eyes locked with his.

  Let’s see if I can rattle that composure.

  “If you say yes, I’ll give you my tongue to suck on, and you can take a guess at what it is.”

  Cole had to admit that with the way her eyes automatically moved to his mouth, she provoked the devil in him. So, of course, he moistened his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and he took immense delight in seeing the shiver that she couldn’t seem control.

  “So, Rachel, would you like that taste?”

  Is he serious? Rachel thought as she stood with her back pressed to the tiled tunnel wall.

  This was why she had been deliberately avoiding one-on-one time with him. She knew he was potent, and God help her, as she stood there in the crowded tunnel, she wanted his tongue in her mouth.

  “As romantic as that proposition is—” she started before being cut off.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be romantic.”

  Swallowing once, Rachel tried to compose herself before continuing. “Then, what was it supposed to be?”

  Standing up to his full height, which had to be around six foot four, he placed his hands behind his back. Once again, his cheeks moved, and his damn lips pursed as he sucked on the candy. He then seemed to push it to the right side of his mouth.

  Rachel felt like she was being seduced by a piece of candy and a set of smart-ass lips. She needed to escape—Oh, at least three minutes ago.

  “It was an overtly sexual offer, designed to provide you with the answer to your question.”

  Shutting her eyes, Rachel tried not to let his voice slide inside her. She tried not to let it tingle all over her body, and she tried not to let that stuffy, I-am-better-than-you attitude stroke her sensitive spots.

  I am trying and failing epically.

  Knowing she needed to somehow regain the upper hand, Rachel let her eyes roam over his far-too-attractive face to his black wool coat, which was tailored to perfection, and she felt her pulse jump.

  Watching his sharp, serious chin tilt down, Rachel inspected the blond stubble shadowing it, and she had to stop herself from reaching out and scraping it lightly with her blue nails.

  “Like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, as romantic as that proposition is, when I want to suck on your tongue or anything else, I’ll ask. Until then, no need to offer. It’s just embarrassing when I turn you down.”

  Feeling rather pleased with herself, she lifted her hand and patted the lapel of his coat. It wasn’t until she remembered who she was dealing with that she realized, Bad idea.

  Quicker than she could blink, his large hand was on top of hers, circling her wrist before she could think twice about it. He tugged her forward gently, and Rachel had no choice but to go. Suddenly, she found herself close enough to him that her breasts were pressed firmly against the wool covering his chest.

  To anyone passing by, they must have looked like two people—Oh hell, who am I kidding? With the tension sizzling and cracking around us, we must look like two lovers about to attack eac
h other against the wall.

  But the two involved knew it was a completely different story.

  “I don’t remember inviting you to touch me,” Cole stated in a voice that invited no argument.

  But like a fool, she argued. “Well, you actually invited me to suck your tongue. Or have you already forgotten?”

  Holding her firmly against him, his hazel eyes heated at the reminder. “An invitation you refused as far as I am aware. So, until I reissue the invite, maybe you should keep your hands to yourself.”

  Feeling her cheeks flush in the face of the admonishment, Rachel nodded because he was right.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized begrudgingly. “Now, can I have my arm back?”

  I knew it, Cole thought as he released her wrist and took a step back. His instincts hadn’t let him down.

  “Is this over? I was running late before, and now, I am running very late. So, if you are done with…whatever this is, I would like to be on my way,” she pointed out in a frustrated and pissy tone.

  Stepping aside, Cole removed one hand from his pocket and gestured for her to be on her way. As she tried to move by him, he whispered in a soft and dark tone, “This is so far from over, Rachel. It’s barely even begun.”

  Her spine stiffened, but other than that, she did not look at him, and she did not stop as she marched away.

  Oh yes, Cole thought with a tight-lipped grin, my instincts were spot-on.

  Finally chewing on the sweet treat, he swallowed the sugary remainder and ran a hand up through his hair. Somehow and someway, Rachel was going to be his. It was all just a matter of time.

  Time and patience were two things he had an abundance of.

  “I’m late, I’m late! I know!” Rachel pushed through the back door of Exquisite and attempted to swiftly run by her brother’s office.

  Unfortunately for her, Mason was quicker, and as she reached his office door, he appeared. Leaning his shoulder against the jamb, he ran a hand through his thick black hair.

  “You’re not only late; you’re very late,” he told her, making a show out of looking at his watch.

  Tugging on the end of her coat, Rachel arched a brow. “Am I? So, what are you going to do? Dock my pay? Do you know how hard it is to get here on time every night?”

  Letting his arm fall back down by his side, Mason pushed off the door. “Okay, cool your jets. What happened? You miss your train?”

  If only, Rachel thought as her mind flashed an image of a tall, serious-looking suit who also happened to be one giant pain every time she had seen him.

  “No, I missed a stop, and the cab ride was longer than I expected. Did I miss much?”

  “Nope. Pretty slow tonight.” Mason turned on his heel and moved back into his unorganized office.

  Usually, she’d follow him in and see how his day had been. Tonight though, all Rachel could think about was the unsettling run-in she’d had earlier, and she didn’t want Mason and his all-knowing ways to figure it out. So, instead of chatting with her brother, she called out, “See ya,” and made her way down the back aisles to the humming kitchen.

  It might not be a busy night at Exquisite, but that didn’t mean there was no activity. Quite the contrary, the kitchen was buzzing. The soft thump of music was playing, and she could see Wendy standing at the pass talking to Ryan, the new head chef Mason had brought in around two months ago.

  They had decided to hire him when Mason had told her he wanted to be behind the scenes and only run the restaurant from now on. He no longer wanted to work in the kitchen or on the floor in any capacity.

  That’s exactly what I need to do—hire someone for the flower shop, Rachel decided as she headed to the small office she shared with Wendy. Dumping her things on her very organized desk, she wrote a note on her calendar as a reminder to place a want ad tomorrow.

  She tied her hair back, pulled a black ball cap off the peg from the back of the door, and stuffed the low ponytail through the hole in the back of the cap. Removing her blue coat, she put on the bright purple chef’s jacket she’d talked Mason into getting her. After fastening the two rows of black buttons, she looked down at her outfit, and she had to grin.

  She loved that Mason hadn’t been strict when it came to what she wore in the kitchen. She happened to think her black leather pants looked pretty kick-ass with the purple smock. Mason’s indulgence didn’t surprise her though. He was just like their father had been. They both had always encouraged her to be herself even when it wasn’t quite the norm.

  “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Mason pushed his hands into his khaki shorts as he walked into her bedroom and took a seat on the bed beside her.

  “Come on, Rach. What did Lisa say to you?”

  “Nothing.” Rachel pouted, crossing her arms under her newest annoyance, her breasts.

  “She must have said something. You didn’t talk to her the whole way home, and I noticed you managed to throw her several death stares,” he pointed out, tugging on her bright pink braid.

  Lisa Jennings, blonde-bimbo extraordinaire, was Josh’s latest girlfriend. She was the one girl who represented everything Rachel wanted to be. For a while, Rachel had done anything she could to emulate her idol. But that had all changed today when she’d walked into the girls’ restroom and heard Lisa laughing about Mason’s stupid pink-haired sister.

  So, Rachel had moved Lisa from the really Cool Club to the She-Is-a-Total-Bitch Club. Currently, it only had one member, and Rachel wasn’t going to tell Mason it was Lisa. After all, his best friend was dating her.

  Tugging her head away from him, Rachel looked up at her brother and wondered how he made everything seem so simple. He was never awkward, and no one considered him to be weird, but then again, he also didn’t have pink hair. At that thought, she giggled.

  “There you are!” he declared, chuckling.

  “Seriously, Mase, what does Josh even see in her?”

  Stupid question, Rachel thought with a sigh. She knew he saw tanned legs, blonde hair, and the captain of the cheerleading team. Guys suck, and that was Rachel’s official sixteen-year-old opinion.

  Mason bumped shoulders with her and grinned. “Maybe she’s really good at Scrabble?”

  Rachel busted out laughing as she tried to picture Lisa or Josh playing that game.

  “You think she can even spell Scrabble?” she asked slyly, arching a brow at her brother.

  “Dunno, but you know what she can’t do?”

  Rachel shook her head as Mason wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a hug.

  “She can’t pull off bright pink hair and make it look so cool that at least six other girls do it the next day.”

  Rachel felt tears well in her eyes. That was Mason—always there with the perfect answer. He was about to say something else, but her bedroom door swung open, interrupting their conversation.

  Their father stuck his head in. “You two ready for dinner?”

  Reaching up, she wiped a tear away.

  Almost immediately, their father was through the door, glaring at Mason. “What did you do to her?” he asked as he moved to sit beside Rachel on the bed.

  “Nothing,” Mason replied with a laugh, holding up his hands. He stood and walked toward the door. Just as he reached it, Mason turned back, looking at her and their father. “Someone said something about her hair.”

  Rachel felt her dad pull away from her. He reached over to wipe away a tear from her face, but she turned away, so she could glower at her brother.

  “And what could they possibly say about hair that looks so…” He paused as though he was trying to think of the right word. “Sweet?”

  “Sweet?” Rachel squeaked.

  Mason couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Yeah.” Their father nodded. “Like…like cotton candy.”

  “Oh, Dad.” Rachel finally laughed as she hugged him. “Thank you, but that doesn’t really help.”

  “Well, you’re laughing,” he poi
nted out before looking back and forth between the both of them. “Never let someone make you feel like you are not the best version of yourself. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Rachel mumbled.

  “And you,” he said as he stood and moved over to Mason, “always look after your little sister. Come on now, let’s have dinner.”

  Thinking of that night with her father, Rachel shook her head with a small smile. He had been running through her mind a lot lately, and she couldn’t seem to pinpoint why.

  Well, I’ll have time to think about that later, she thought as she made her way to the walk-in fridge to pull out the pears that had been chilling all day. Tonight’s dessert special was cider-poached pears in a puff pastry shell with a warm caramel sauce.

  Sarah, Exquisite’s other pastry chef, had spent the morning coring the pears and making the puff pastry in preparation for this evening. Rachel returned from the fridge with two large containers of pears and placed them down on the stainless steel prep table.

  Smiling at Sarah, Rachel wiped her hands on her apron. “So, did you manage to get the pumpkin spice? I can’t believe I forgot to order that the other day. It really does make the difference.”

  Sarah moved to the other side of the table. “Yeah, it came in this morning, so I made a small sample of the sauce, just to make sure you really want to add it.”

  Sarah had started working with Rachel around six months ago when Mason had decided someone needed to come in during the morning hours to help her prepare for the evening. This worked out perfectly since she was down at Precious Petals during the day; before they had hired Sarah, Rachel had come in at four in the morning to do all the prep work herself. Now, when Rachel arrived for the evening, Sarah would go home. It turned out to be a match made in heaven.

  “Give me one second. Keep in mind that it’s not finished yet,” Sarah told her as she stirred the warm dark concoction of cider, brown sugar, pumpkin spice, and Calvados brandy.

  Rachel couldn’t help but joke with her coworker as she nodded toward the mixture. “Oh good, I was starting to think you forgot to add the butter and vanilla.”