else until all of this is finished.”
She noticed he didn’t say that he didn’t want to take anyone else. Only that he couldn’t.
Being a bit oversensitive, aren’t we? Maybe. Or maybe not.
“When is it?” she asked.
“Thursday. How are things going today? Have you come up with anything to go with the white tea from Amudee’s? I’m thinking of a gourmet tea cake. Wondering if we could start making our own preserves. That has definite mass-market appeal. Are you closer to reaching a deal?”
“It looks that way. I’m optimistic. He’s a hard man to read but he seems reasonably satisfied that Roasted is run to the sort of standards he likes to see.”
“Good.” She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, to forge a connection. That would just come across as needy and she didn’t want to seem needy. Even if she did feel a little bit needy.
“What’s this?” He took a sheet of paper off her desk and she cringed.
“Uh … a list I was making. For my bakery.”
Her bakery. The dream that wasn’t really her dream. She loved her job at Roasted, but if things didn’t work out with Zack she was going to need her escape more than ever.
“Oh. Right.” He set it back down. “Working on it during business hours?”
“Or during lunch. Or maybe during business hours, but you know I put my time in,” she said stiffly.
“I’m not going to give you special treatment just because we slept together.”
His words hung in the air, too loud in the small office, and far too harsh for her already-tender insides.
“Of course not. That would be ridiculous,” she said, picking up a stack of unidentified papers from her desk and walking over to the industrial stapler. She punched it down in three places and hoped that they were at least documents that went together. “Why would you do that?”
The truth was, he had always treated her like she was special, and having him say something like that made her feel demoted.
“You know what I meant.”
“I guess I don’t.”
He rounded her desk and cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up so that she had to meet his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her lips. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t say anything. Even so, all of the fight drained out of her.
“I’m going to be busy tonight,” he said.
That was probably for the best. Distance was probably a really, really good idea. Because she desperately didn’t want it, and that meant she very likely needed it. Because last night was proof neither of them were thinking clearly where the other was concerned.
They’d done it again. And there could be no more sex. None. It was too dangerous for her, too stupid. Too little. It was physical only for Zack, and she wanted more. She needed more.
“All right. Me, too, actually.” She’d find something to be busy with. She would. Except, the only people she ever hung out with, besides Zack, were the people she worked with. And it would be hard hanging out with them now when she was lying to them.
Maybe she’d work on some of the tea pastries she’d been thinking of.
“See you tomorrow, then. At work,” she said, feeling very accomplished that she was managing to seem cool and aloof about the whole thing.
“See you then,” he said, nodding and walking out of the room.
When he left she blew out a breath. The affair, fling, whatever, was supposed to ease some of the tension between them. But if anything, it seemed more intense than it had before.
She looked back down at her list. The items she was choosing for if she opened her own bakery. For if she had to leave Roasted so she could get away from Zack.
She was starting to hope she wouldn’t need it.
Clara put a pan of twelve cupcakes into the oven and closed the rack with her foot. They were pineapple cupcakes which she was intending to pair light, whipped frosting and candied mango on top. They might very well taste like a Caribbean vacation gone wrong, but she was feeling risky.
She was also feeling restless and sad.
It was Monday and normally Zack would come over for a football game neither of them would pay attention to. He would bring takeout, she would provide all things baked and sinful.
She missed that. And she wondered if the status quo hadn’t been so bad after all.
Right. Because you were such a sopping, sad mess you made his wedding cake even though it destroyed you to do it. And you’ve barely had a date since you met the man.
All true.
She growled into the empty room and turned her focus to whipping her frosting. That, at least, was physically satisfying. She dipped an unused spoon into the mix and tasted it. She hit Play on her kitchen stereo system and turned to the pantry humming while she rummaged for a can of pineapple juice.
She heard a sharp knock over the sound of her acoustic-guitar music and she stopped rummaging. She frowned and walked over to the door, peeking through the security window at the top.
Zack was there, looking back down the hall, like he was thinking about leaving. He had a brown paper bag in his hand, his work clothes long discarded in favor of a gray T-shirt and a pair of dark fitted jeans.
Her heart crumpled. Seeing him was almost painful. A reminder of how close they’d been physically. How far apart they were emotionally.
She braced herself for the full impact of his presence and opened the door.
He turned to her, smiling. “Hi.”
“I thought you were busy.”
That wasn’t what she’d intended to lead with, but it had sort of slipped out. Things just seemed to be “happening” around him without her permission a lot lately.
“It turns out it could wait.” He slipped past her and stepped into her apartment, depositing his bags of food on the counter and pulling white boxes from it without even asking for permission.
“Why are you … here?”
“It’s Monday.”
“And?”
“Football.” He shrugged as he opened the first container, revealing her favorite, Sweet and Sour Pork. Like nothing had changed.
It was comforting in a very bizarre way. And a tiny bit upsetting, too. She wasn’t sure which emotion she was going to let win. She’d give it until after dinner to decide.
“Right.” She turned and made her way around the counter, taking plates and utensils out of the cupboard
