Sweet Seduction (16 page)

It's impossible to feel blue with the smell of fresh baking in a kitchen.

“Are you going to keep talking to me when I move?” Daisy asked the room in general. Of course no one answered. Daisy was ninety per cent sure the voice she heard wasn't really her grandmother but simply memories surfacing, probably because she was surrounded by the place where the memories were created. But real or imagined, sane or semischizoid, the voice was comforting, and Daisy didn't want it to stop.

Sitting down at her kitchen table, Daisy traced the wood grain on the old table. “I don't know what to do,” she muttered to herself. “I just don't know what to do.”

Out of nowhere, her stove dinged. It did that sometimes. The electrical was wonky in the old building, lights cutting in and out, appliances shutting off and on, but Daisy decided to take it as a sign. She knew exactly what she needed to do. Jumping to her feet, she turned the oven on to three hundred fifty, unpacked her baking supplies and proceeded to empty her cupboard of ingredients: flour, sugar, butter, salt...

Rolling up her sleeves, Daisy organized her things on the counter, the simple act already starting to make her feel better.

* * *

A
FTER
SPENDING
THE
day painting the kitchen of her new apartment—lemon yellow, which made the place feel lovely and sunshiny—Daisy headed back to the old apartment to pack the cinnamon buns into boxes of four. She loaded the boxes into two large shopping bags and toted them down to the curb outside. Her first few attempts to flag a cab failed but a few minutes later, one finally stopped. When she ducked down to give the address, she realized it was the same driver she'd had last night.

“Hey, lady,” he said with a grin. “Feeling crazy today?”

Putting the bags in first, Daisy climbed in after. “I haven't decided yet. You?”

“I'm all good.” His chuckle was deep and infectious, and Daisy found herself laughing along with him.

For the duration of the ride, she reflected on the fact that in spite of everything going on, she felt better today. Lighter. Was it painting her new apartment? The act of baking? The prospect of giving her baking away?

Daisy didn't know, but she decided to accept the reprieve for whatever it was. It felt good to feel good. Smiling, she glanced forward and caught the driver watching her in the rearview mirror again. She waved.

“I know you.”

Daisy leaned forward. “Uh...you gave me a ride last night, remember?”

“No, I mean you're the baking lady. You were all over the news last week.” He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. “Smells like you got something good in those bags.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“How about doing a hungry brother a solid? Because damn, crazy baking lady, whatever you got in there smells goo-ood.”

When they pulled over in front of the gym, Daisy took one of the boxes out of the bag and gave it to the driver with her fare. “Take some home to your family.”

“Thanks, lady.” He got out and opened the door for her. “Do you need help with that?”

“Nope. I can manage, thanks.”

Daisy climbed the steps to the gym, her heart beating erratically, her palms damp where she held the handles of the bags, her tummy doing gymnastics, twists, flips and somersaults. She tried the door, but of course it was locked, and this time there was no one to let her in. She noticed a small buzzer to the right of the door, pressed it and waited until eventually someone came. This time when she looked up and saw Colin Forsythe, she didn't mistake him for Jamie and, in fact, marveled at the fact that she'd ever confused the two. They were so different.

“We were taking bets as to who forgot his key this time.
You
were not in the running.” He opened the door wide for her to come in.

Daisy made her way into the gym and was greeted by cheers from the guys. She held the bags aloft. “Who wants cinnamon buns?” There was a big, manly stampede, and Daisy grabbed one of the boxes before they were all gone.

“If you're looking for Jamie,” Colin said, “he's in his office.”

“Oh, thanks.” Squaring her shoulders, Daisy made her way past the ring—where the two men who'd been sparring stopped to yell at the others to save them some of the buns. She could do this. This was a test. She had to know whether Jamie had feelings for her or not. His bad behavior yesterday seemed to indicate not, but the searing heat of his kiss said the opposite. She pressed her fingertips to her lips as she stood outside his closed door and then called, “Special delivery,” as she knocked.

Jamie opened the door, much like his twin had done a few minutes ago. Yep, there were so many differences. Jamie was bigger, broader across the shoulders. His face wider, his eyes sparkling with irreverence—though not so much right now.

Clearing her throat, Daisy presented the box, a peace offering. She noted the way his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. For a second, she thought he might turn away without accepting her gift, but a loud rumbling from his stomach seemed to make him change his mind.

“Thank you.” He took the box without a smile.

So Daisy smiled wide enough for both of them. “You're welcome.” Then she turned and walked away. “See you,” she called over her shoulder.

Was he watching her? Should she check? Daisy paused. No. Let him keep guessing. She kept walking, though she might have been swaying her hips a little more than usual, and she couldn't keep the satisfied smirk off her face when she heard Jamie's door slam a few seconds later. As she neared the area where she'd dropped off the bags, Colin caught up to her. “What do we owe you for all of this?”

“Nothing.” She glanced back toward Jamie's closed office. “But I'm bringing my gym clothes tomorrow. Someone is going to teach me how to use that.” She pointed at the big, heavy bag Owen was currently pummeling.

Colin laughed. “You've got game, girl. But I warn you, my brother can be an idiot sometimes.”

“Funny,” Daisy said with a playful wink, “he's said the same thing about you.”

16

G
OD
,
WHAT
A
DAY
.
After spending the morning interviewing candidates to replace his partner Carson, Jamie had worked through lunch, trying to catch up on his files. And then, in the afternoon he'd received a panicked call from his client Chloe. Despite the protective order that was in place, her ex had broken into the house again.

Through it all, Daisy Sinclair was never far from his thoughts. He'd blink and see her face, her expressive eyes, her luscious lips. He'd walk down the hall and hear a woman's voice and it'd be Daisy's telling him,
You're a good guy, Jamie.
He'd close his eyes because of the insistent pounding in his temples and be accosted by a vision of Daisy, naked on her bed, beckoning to him.

Now, a rumbling unease stewed in the pit of his stomach. He considered going home instead of to the gym tonight, but he really needed the gym. Plus, Daisy's box of buns sat unopened in his kitchen and would be a cruel reminder of what he wanted but couldn't have.

So the gym it was. He needed to let loose on someone. Or allow someone to let loose on him. Didn't matter, really. Being in the ring was the only time he could let go. Forget. Ease the guilt of what he hadn't been able to do. For his clients, for his sister. For Daisy.

The second he opened the door, he knew something was wrong. It was too quiet. There was no one in the ring. No one at the weight benches. No loud, pounding bass from the speakers. Stepping farther into the space, Jamie saw the crowd surrounding the heavy bags.

Then he heard her voice, and the restless thing pacing like a caged animal in the pit of his stomach suddenly pounced at the bars.

“Take that!” Daisy cried, followed by a cheer from the spectators.

Quietly Jamie approached the throng.

“And that!” Hoots and hollers followed Daisy's show. She grinned at the men. “This is fun.”

Jamie inserted himself into the group surrounding the bag. Daisy was suited up, wearing much-too-snug workout clothes. Her short shorts showed off her shapely legs and her fine ass. A tight yoga top accentuated the cleavage of her full breasts, her narrow waist and her curvy hips.

“No more!” She jabbed twice at the bag.

“Go girl! Give it all you got.”

A cross and an upper cut had her hair and other parts of her bouncing with enthusiasm.

“Let 'em have it, Daisy.”

“God, you're so cute when you're mad.”

Did she honestly have no idea how she looked right now? Did she not realize she was surrounded by raging testosterone?

With a series of pretty grunts, Daisy let her fists fly, reminding Jamie—oh, so vividly—of their time together in the ring. The bars gave way, freeing the dangerous predator that dwelled in his gut.

He strode up between the bag and Daisy. The group went silent.

In a low voice he said, “Out.” He met every single one of the men's eyes individually, conveying his displeasure. His dominance. His ownership. “All of you. Get out.”

* * *

“W
HAT
DID
YOU
do that for?” Daisy demanded, tossing the gloves to the floor so she could rest her hands on her hips. The last of the men filed out of the gym, some throwing back halfhearted complaints, others elbowing each other, sharing knowing glances.

“Get dressed, Daisy.”

She glanced down at herself. “I am dressed.”

Striding to the wall where there was a water cooler and a shelf stacked with towels, Jamie grabbed a towel and tossed it at her. “You are basically in your underwear.”

“These are workout clothes. My underwear is
way
more revealing.” She threw the towel back at him. “Of course, you should know that. Or have you forgotten?”

“I have
not
forgotten.” His voice was so low it was lethal.

Daisy gulped. She'd never seen him like this. His face was red, as though he'd been in the ring, but he hadn't, because he'd just arrived. His normally full lips were pulled back into a thin line and his jaw was rigid with tension. When he took a step toward her, she found herself automatically taking a step back.

“Why do you keep coming here?”

She sidestepped around one of the big bags, pushing it toward him as if that would stop him. “Why do you think?”

He caught the bag and held it. “Don't answer a question with a question.”

She threw her hands up. “Then don't ask a stupid question.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“No.” Daisy knew she was the world's worst liar. Her expression always gave her away, and Jamie called her on it.

“Don't lie.”

She glanced over her shoulder, backing in another direction, trying another tactic. “How can I drive you crazy? You'd actually have to care about me for that to happen.”

“You know I care about you.”

“No. I don't. Because you're kind of acting like an ass right now and maybe even scaring me a little bit.”

He flinched as though she'd slapped him, but that didn't stop his slow, steady stalking of her. “Good. You need to be scared a little bit.” He pounced, grabbing her arms and tugging her up against him. “You are way too trusting.”

She shook her head. “Trusting is good.”

His grip tightened. “No. Trusting is bad. This is a bad part of town, and for all you know, these are bad guys.”

She shook her head no.

His searing gaze swept down her body and back up. “You have no idea how good you look.” He took a deep breath. “How great you smell.” His lids slid to half-mast. “You think you're tempting them with your baking?” One hand went around to the back of her neck and he tilted her head up to him. “
You
are the temptation, Daisy. You.” His other hand slid down to her ass and he pulled her snug against his big, hard body. “And it's too much for me.”

Daisy wound her arms around his neck. “Good,” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes so she could look him in the eye. “Then stop fighting it.”

First he made a sound deep in his chest, a growly, savage sound. Then his mouth descended on hers, needy, hungry, possessive. She kissed him back, equally needy, equally hungry. He'd been right about the arousing effects of boxing, because she was more aroused now than she could ever remember feeling...except for that time with Jamie in the ring.

“What is this thing between us?” he asked, sounding as if he was in pain.

“I don't know,” she whispered against his lips. Tasting him, letting him suck her tongue into his mouth, opening her mouth so she could suck on him.

He backed her up to the ring and lifted her to sit on the edge so she was level with him, the bottom rope at the back of her head. He nudged her legs apart and stepped between them. “It's out of control.”

“I know.”

He held on to her face with both hands, having his way with her mouth. Nipping and biting, plunging with his tongue, sweeping with a thoroughness she'd never experienced, as if he had to taste every part of her.

“You should hate me,” he murmured.

“I kind of did.”

His fingers threaded through her hair, gripping in a wonderfully intense way. “Then why are you here?”

“I can't stay away.” She gave her hands permission to tug on his shirt and roam underneath. She loved this part of him, the band of soft hair around his navel, his warm skin over solid, rippling muscles.

He nuzzled the skin beneath her jaw. “You told me it was over.”

“I know.”

“Do you want it to be over?”

“No.” She let her head fall back, loving the feel of his lips on her throat, the stubble of his beard rough against her jaw. “Do you?”

He lapped at her neck, smelling her damp skin as he went. “I don't know.” He pulled away. “I should, but...”

“But what?”

“I can't stop wanting you.”

“Then don't.”

He groaned and lifted her down from the ring. Pressing his forehead against hers, he whispered, “I wish I could, Daisy. I'm not good for you.”

“Says who?”

He gazed down into her eyes, his pupils large and dark, making his eyes appear almost black. Tortured.

“Me.”

“Don't I get a say?”

His nostrils flared, and Daisy swore he was taking in her scent. “You're too trusting.”

“I want you, Jamie. I've always wanted you. Even when I hated you, I wanted you.”

Discomfort flashed across his face, followed quickly by something else. Resignation? Desire?

“I want to make love to you,” she said.

He sucked in a breath. “Not here.”

“Where?”

He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Your place.”

She shook her head. “It's in chaos. I was planning to stay with Gloria tonight.”

He frowned, silently searching her face, as if he was looking for the answer to a question he'd never asked. She touched his swollen mouth, so much better than the thin angry line from before. “You should take me home right now, Jamie. Or—”

“Or what?”

She kissed him, rubbing his delicious erection through his pants. “Or we're going to be using that emergency condom right now, and you're going to do me right here, whether you want to or not.”

* * *

J
AMIE
DROVE
LIKE
a demon. His body was on fire. That's what Daisy did to him. She lit him on fire until he quickly burned out of control. Oh, he'd tried to do the right thing, keep her at arm's length, but for whatever reason, he was unable to be rational around the woman.

Once parked in his underground spot, he helped Daisy off the bike and took her hand as he led her to the elevator that would take them up to his apartment. The other reason he was feeling so out of control was that he'd never brought a woman here before.

Ever.

He'd always claimed that it was for the women's benefit. They were more at home in their own places with all their toiletries on hand. But the truth was he liked to be the one to call the shots, have control over when things ended, when he could leave. He preferred to keep a certain distance and that meant keeping women out of his space.

Now here he was bringing Daisy Sinclair into his inner sanctuary, and he couldn't wait to get her there.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked after unlocking the door and letting her inside.

“Water, please. That workout made me thirsty.” Jamie felt the weird combination of anger and attraction resurface at the memory of Daisy putting on a sultry, sexy boxing show for all the men.

God.

“Ice?”

“Yes, please.” As he prepared her water, Daisy explored his apartment, running her fingertips along the shelves, the spines of books, picking up picture frames and setting them down again. “Um, Jamie?”

“Yeah?” He came to join her in the living room.

She pointed to the three pictures on his mantel. “Were you married?”

All three were of Sarah, two of her by herself, one with the three siblings. Funny. He'd never even considered what those pictures might imply to someone who didn't know him. “No. That's my sister.”

“Ah.” Daisy picked up his favorite, Sarah with her golden retriever puppy, Gordon. “She's really pretty. Does she live in Chicago?”

Jamie passed Daisy the glass, took the picture from her hand and studied it for a second. “She died.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry. When did that happen?”

“My fourth year of law school.” He replaced the picture. “Eight years ago.”

Daisy set her water down. She didn't speak, didn't ask what happened. She simply wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. She stayed there, just breathing, just being there.

After a while, she pressed a hand to his chest. “You have a Celtic symbol on your chest, over your heart.”

“I do.”

“Is it—”

“For her? Yes.”

“I wondered.” She rubbed a circle over the spot.

Jamie took her hand and kissed her palm. She placed it flat against his cheek, stroking the side of his face, his whiskers, gazing up at him, her eyes bright with compassion, comforting him in a way that he hadn't known he needed to be comforted.

He took her hand in his. “Come with me.”