Pamela Yaye - Mocha Pleasures

“Tell me again why you wanted to meet here, and not at the bakery?”

“My dad asked me to check out the competition so here I am—”

“Sweet mother of God! Who is that and where has he been all my life?”

Grace didn’t have to turn around to know who Bronwyn was referring to, knew there was only one man inside Lillian’s of Seattle who could elicit such an emphatic response, but she did turn. Casting a glance over her right shoulder, she caught sight of Jackson stalking through the door, looking all kinds of sexy in a black sports jacket, crisp slacks and leather shoes.

Grace couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The man was a force of nature, so freakin’ hot her body tingled in places that made her blush. He must have sensed her watching him, felt the heat of her stare, because he met her gaze. She wore an aloof expression on her face and didn’t react when he winked at her, but her heart was doing backflips inside her chest. His grin revealed a set of matching dimples, straight white teeth and a twinkle in his eyes. Jackson moved with confidence, as if he could have anything in the world—including her—and that drew Grace to him.

“Do you know him?” Bronwyn asked. “Have you seen him here before?”

“That’s Jackson Drayson. He’s one of the three owners.”

“No,” she quipped, her gaze dark with lust. “That’s my second husband!”

Grace cupped a hand over her mouth to smother her girlish laughter.

“You tricked me.” Wearing an amused expression on her face, Bronwyn leaned across the table and leveled a finger at Grace. “You didn’t ask me to meet you here so we could catch up. You came down here to drool over that tall, beautiful specimen of a man.”

“As if. He’s not my type—”

“Says the girl who’s drooling all over her expensive designer dress!”

Grace noticed she wasn’t the only person in Lillian’s eyeing the dreamy baker. He’d captured the attention of everyone in the room and connected with patrons in meaningful ways. He shook hands, kissed babies, chatted with the group of senior citizens drinking coffee and saluted a female soldier waiting in line for her order. Jackson was a man’s man, a woman’s man, too, and it was obvious his customers loved him.

Watching Jackson charm everyone in the bakery made Grace realize her own inadequacies as an employee at Sweetness. She spent most of her days in her office, chained to her desk, and on the rare occasion she treated herself to lunch she sat outside in the park, not in the kitchen. Too many memories of her mother in there. Too many unfulfilled hopes and dreams, so she avoided the room at all costs. Customers, too. Everyone had a story to share about Rosemary, and hearing them broke her heart, overwhelmed her with pain and grief. For that reason, she kept her distance from the regulars.

“What’s his story?”

Grace told Bronwyn what she knew about Jackson, which wasn’t much, and noticed the expression on her friend’s face morph from excited to skeptical.

“Single, fine and successful?” she drawled. “There must be something wrong with him.”

“You mean besides that fact that he has a monster-sized ego?”

Bronwyn’s giggles skidded to a stop and her eyes widened with interest as Jackson stopped at their table. “Well, hello.”

“Good morning, ladies. Care to sample one of my Peppermint cheesecake bites?”

“Absolutely,” Bronwyn cooed, helping herself to one of the round minicakes.

Stuffed, so full she couldn’t move, Grace shook her head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

Bronwyn popped the dessert into her mouth, declared it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted and stuck out her right hand. “I’m Bronwyn Johansson, and you’re Jackson Drayson. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Everything Grace told you is true.”

Laughing together, Bronwyn and Jackson shook hands.

“It’s true what they say. Beautiful women do travel in packs.”

Bronwyn smiled so brightly she lit up the entire bakery. Grace tried not to gag. Surely, her friend wasn’t impressed with his pickup lines. But, sadly, she was. Silent and wide-eyed, she couldn’t believe her friend was flirting shamelessly with the bad-boy baker. Amused, Grace sank back in her chair and enjoyed the “Bronwyn and Jackson” show.

“You’re a great baker,” Bronwyn announced, her tone full of awe., “Your wife is one very lucky woman.”

“I’m not married.” His gaze slid across the table and landed on Grace. “But that could change any day now.”

Heat singed the tips of her ears and flowed through her body. Jackson made her hyperventilate, caused her thoughts to scatter in a million directions, and there was nothing Grace could do to stop it.

“I haven’t found Mrs. Right yet, but things are definitely starting to look up.”

“Describe your ideal woman.”

Grace kicked Bronwyn under the table, but her friend continued chatting a mile a minute.

“Don’t be shy,” she said, reaching out and patting his forearm good-naturedly, as if they were lifelong friends. “I love playing matchmaker, so let me help you find your soul mate.”

Jackson rested the wooden tray on the table. “That’s easy. I know exactly what I want.”

“Do tell. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Bronwyn, don’t encourage him,” Grace implored, speaking through dry, pursed lips.

“I want to hear this. Go ahead, Jackson. I’m listening.”

His stare was bold and raked over her body with deliberate intent. “She’s five-ten, give or take a few inches, with mocha-brown skin, hourglass curves and legs like a Vegas showgirl.”

Oh, my goodness, he’s talking about me! Grace resisted the urge to cheer. Pride surged through her veins as she sat up taller in her chair. Fire and desire gleamed in his eyes, radiating from his chiseled six-foot body. Grace didn’t speak, kept the leave-me-the-hell-alone expression on her face, but when Jackson flashed his trademark grin her heart smiled. It must have appeared on her face because he looked pleased with himself, as if he’d developed an antidote for an incurable disease. He sat down in the empty chair beside her, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to kiss him.

“I know just the girl,” Bronwyn said, vigorously nodding her head. “Want her number? It’s 206-621—” Pop music played from inside her gold Michael Kors purse and she broke off speaking. Singing along with Taylor Swift, she retrieved her BlackBerry and checked the screen. “It’s my Pooh Bear! Jackson, keep Grace company until I get back. I won’t be long.”

“My pleasure,” he said, pouring on the charm. “Take your time.”

Her breakfast forgotten, Bronwyn surged to her feet and strode off.

“You look amazing. Do you model for Gucci, or are you just a huge fan of their clothes?”

“Surely, there’s someone else in here you can hit on,” she said with a nod toward the cash register. “How about that cute young barista with the curly hair? She’s always staring at you, and I’m sure she’d be flattered by your pickup lines.”

“I don’t spit lines. Just the truth.”

Seeing her cell phone light up, she glanced down at the screen and read her latest text message. Of course. It was from her dad. He wanted to know how things were going, but Grace decided not to respond. Not with the enemy sitting so close.

“When are you going to let me take you out? You know you want to.”

“I grew up here,” she said, “so there’s nowhere you can take me that I haven’t been to a million times before.”

“Try me. When we go out on Saturday night, I’ll knock you off your feet. Literally.”

“Are you always this cocky?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I have reason to be. I’m a pretty cool dude!”