“Ms. Swayne, would you guys like dessert?”
The idea of dessert signaled the end of the evening for them, and Maggie wasn’t sure she was ready to say goodbye just yet. George apologized for admitting the desserts tonight were dark chocolate lava cupcakes from another business. Maggie didn’t think about eating another bite.
“Give me a minute to talk her into it, George,” said Caden. Alone, he leaned forward. “After tasting your cupcakes, I can’t possibly fathom the idea of anyone else’s.”
For a minute Maggie wondered if his reference to cupcakes was a metaphor for something else. Either way, her body quivered with anticipation of his touch. “What do you say we get out of here?”
“I’m fine with going,” Maggie said, wiping the corners of her mouth with her linen napkin. “If you want, we can have dessert back at my place.” This time she lifted her brows to emphasize the innuendo.
Caden reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 5
With any other woman, Caden liked to set up the romantic evening himself. When entertaining at his house, where he preferred to bring women, he always had fresh roses waiting, the occasional toothbrush, and a side drawer filled with condoms. He never wanted to leave protection up to a woman. So it was understandable for Caden to feel out of control the moment he stepped over the threshold of Maggie’s apartment.
“Can I get you a glass of wine?” Maggie asked. She kicked her shoes off and left them at the bare faux-marble entry.
With the door opened, he noticed a thick white carpet in the short hallway that spilled into the open living room. To his right stood the kitchenette with a bar counter, offering a view of a flat-screen TV positioned on the wall in the corner.
“I’m good from the wine at dinner,” he answered. He thought he recognized a look of relief cross her face when she motioned for him to take a seat in the living room, but she turned quickly to set her purse on the round four-top table in the corner. Newspapers and magazines were piled behind an open laptop. Recognizing the green background, Caden knew that’s where she did her vlogs. Usually she taped with different sceneries behind her. Sometimes it appeared she was in Paris in a hotel in front of the Eiffel Tower or sometimes at a sunny beach. A vintage-style phone, like the ones from movies set in the ’40s, sat in the center of a wooden end table. He’d swear the gizmo next to it was an old-fashioned answering machine. Caden moved to one of the high-back stools to sit while she washed her hands at the sink in front of him.
“So this is where you live, where you’re not a teacher?”
“I’m in between places,” Maggie answered, turning around. For some reason Caden thought there was more to her story, but he couldn’t figure out what just yet. Admiring the photographs on the wall, Caden connected the dots with her family members and iconic events in her life. He really liked the high school graduation photo in which she wore an off-the-shoulder black top and pearls around her neck and had her curly hair straightened and tamed. The devilish smile gave a hint of danger. He never stood a chance when they first met.
Maggie poked her head out from behind the refrigerator door and came out with eggs and milk. “I hate to admit the walk back here got my sweet tooth going.”
Caden propped his arms on the faux-marble countertop. At one end a pile of business-size envelopes were stacked near the wall. At the other, four round different colored candles with multiple wicks and pleasant scents rested. “Do you need some help?”
“You can help me with the frosting while the brownies are baking.”
Widening his eyes, Caden clapped his hands together. “I’m pretty good at frosting now.”
“Are you now?”
Caden liked the way Maggie’s eyes lit up under the fluorescent light. The off-white cabinets behind her haloed her red curls, offering an angelic look. Caden licked his lips and slid off the stool. “Where do I start?”
“Let’s start with some tunes.”
“Well, all right now,” Caden cooed and took out his cell phone. “How about some new jack swing?” The mastermind of Teddy Riley blared through the speakers, and they began to work.
Unlike earlier this morning, Maggie didn’t bark out orders. Caden got Maggie to open up about her love for baking, and he admitted to secretly knowing how to cook but not letting it stop him from having a chef on staff when he felt lazy—which was a lot lately. They worked in unison in the small space, but that was nothing new today. Maggie ducked when Caden reached for a measuring glass from the higher shelves, and she anticipated what he needed from the door of fridge or from the pantry. She even anticipated Caden forgetting to turn the mixer on low, just a second too late.
Sweet white powder snowed down on them from the ceiling. Maggie squealed in delight. “Oh my God, Caden!”
“My bad.” Caden fanned the air.
Confectioner’s sugar was everywhere. Maggie took a step toward the lower cabinet by the stove for her stack of dish towels but instead slipped on the mess. “Be careful,” Caden warned, lifting her up. With nowhere else to put her, he set her down on the countertop in front of him. “I’ll clean this up.”
“You better clean yourself up first,” said Maggie, grabbing him by the hem of the T-shirt he’d gotten from The Cupcakery earlier today.
The tips of her fingers caressed the ridges of his stomac
h. Caden licked his lips. “I—uh, don’t want to be rude and sit here without a shirt on in your kitchen.”
Taking him by surprise, Maggie lifted her shirt up. Once off, she dangled the material on the edge of her index finger. “Will this make it better?”
Throat dry, Caden believed he nodded his head. Maggie sat there in a lacy green bra. Pert pink nipples peeked through the fabric. “Magnolia,” Caden moaned.