company, the unofficial spokesperson. He loved people—especially women—and since most of their customers were females, he manned the register, chatted them up and encouraged them to return. They always did. Chase believed Jackson was Lillian’s secret weapon and Jackson appreciated his brother’s faith in him.
Jackson checked the time on his platinum wristwatch. Where was Mariah? She used to be the first one at the bakery, but these days she spent more time with her millionaire boyfriend, Everett Myers, than she did at the shop. Jackson teased her for falling head-over-heels for the widowed coffee importer and his eight-year-old son, EJ, but he was secretly thrilled for her. Chase, too. His siblings had found love, and even though Jackson had zero desire to settle down or have a family of his own, he was happy for them. Love would never be in the cards for him. He easily got bored, craved spontaneity and excitement, and couldn’t imagine wanting to be with the same person for the rest of his life.
“Good morning,” a blonde cooed, sailing through the open door.
“Welcome to Lillian’s,” he greeted. “If you need anything just let me know.”
“I will.” Winking lasciviously, she licked her lips. “You can bet on it.”
Glancing outside, Jackson was surprised to see the weather had changed from a warm and sunny June morning to windy and overcast. He’d been too busy baking to notice. He had to make a baseball-themed cake for a fiftieth birthday party, and since he didn’t want to disappoint the owner of the Seattle Mariners, he’d started working on it bright and early that morning.
A wistful smile found his lips. Two months at Lillian’s and it still blew Jackson’s mind that he was a baker. After watching seven seasons of Cake Boss, and several online tutorials, he’d tried his hand at making a three-tier fondant cake for Chase and Amber’s engagement party. Not only did Mariah love the elaborate design, she’d also said it tasted delicious and commissioned him to make samples for the bakery. Within a week, he had so many orders to fill he’d had to hire another baker to keep up with the demand. His specialty cakes were a hit, and Jackson was confident his one-of-a-kind chocolate creation would wow guests at the party on Friday night.
“Good morning. Welcome to...”
His eyes fell across the tall, willowy woman standing outside at the crosswalk at Denny Way, and Jackson lost his train of thought. Couldn’t speak. Feeling his knees buckle, he leaned against the door to support his weight. Everything screeched to a halt as he gazed at the attractive female in the sleeveless blue dress. Her pixie cut drew attention to her big doe eyes, her lush pink lips and blinding white teeth. There was something sad and pensive about her, a vulnerability he found oddly appealing. She wore a don’t-mess-with-me expression on her face and her arms were crossed, but there was no disputing her beauty.
Jackson openly admired her, told himself to quit staring but he couldn’t look away. She was a stunner. Beautiful cleavage, slim hips, curves that made his mouth water. He was a leg man, had been since the first time he’d seen Tyra Banks on the cover of Black Men magazine back in the day, and the woman had a long, sleek pair. The model doesn’t have a damn thing on her, he thought, his gaze gliding down her thighs, his hands itching to follow suit.
Intrigued, he continued watching her. The older gentleman standing to her left in the charcoal-grey suit tapped her on the shoulder, but Luscious Lips was having none of it. Giving him her back, she stared intently at the traffic light and the moment it changed she left the stranger in her dust. She moved with poise, carried herself with inherent grace, and Jackson knew she came from money. His gaze zeroed in on her left hand. No ring. That meant she was fair game. Women who looked like her—young, supple and hot—always had several boyfriends, and if by some stroke of good luck she was single, it was by choice.
Jackson was so busy staring at her, admiring her sexy, mesmerizing strut and every swish of her hips, he didn’t realize she’d breezed into the bakery until the scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils.
Snapping to attention, he straightened to his full height and checked his black T-shirt and khaki pants for any traces of flour. Like everyone in the room, he immediately took notice of her. Drawn to her, he trailed her around the store at a distance as she moved from one display to the next, carefully perusing the baked goods inside. Her big brown eyes missed nothing, read the handwritten note cards above each case as if she was about to be quizzed on the content. Minutes passed, but Luscious Lips still didn’t place an order.
Catching himself gawking at her, Jackson warned himself to get a grip. Luscious Lips marched toward the register and he slid behind the counter, curious about the woman with the model good-looks. She smelled of peaches and jasmine, an intoxicating scent that wreaked havoc on his body. He couldn’t get his thoughts in order, couldn’t get his mouth to work, and felt an erection stab the zipper of his jeans. Heat singed his cheeks, drenching his skin with perspiration. Jackson couldn’t think of anything but kissing her, ravishing her with his mouth. He was dying to touch her, wanted to caress her from her shoulders to her hips, and between her thighs.
“Are you going to help me, or stand there staring off into space?”
Her tone was clipped, full of annoyance, but she had a lovely voice. The gap between her two front teeth enhanced her one-of-a-kind look. The more Jackson stared at her the more he wanted her, desired her, imagined himself stealing a kiss from her plump, moist lips. “I’m Jackson Drayson, one of the owners of this fine establishment.”
Her eyebrows drew together in a questioning slant, but she didn’t speak.
“Lillian’s is Seattle’s favorite bakery, and I’m confident you’ll love our pastries, especially our baguettes and croissants. They’re better than the ones they make in France!”
“You’re not the only bakery in town.”
“That’s true,” he conceded, “but I’ve tried the others and they’re not even in our league. Our baked goods are the best in town, and we’ll prove it next month at Bite of Seattle.”
A scowl bruised her delicate features. “For a newcomer, you’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Draysons always are, and for good reason. Our sister company, Lillian’s of Chicago, has been in business for over forty years, but its humble beginnings won’t stop us from expanding our beloved pastry empire and winning the hearts of Americans.”
“Thanks for the history lesson.”
To let her know he was interested, he wore a broad grin and leaned over the counter. “What’s your name, beautiful, and when can I take you out? Is tomorrow soon enough?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I came here to eat, not to make a love connection.”
An awkward silence fell between them, but Jackson wanted to make her smile. Down but not out, he spoke in a casual, relaxed tone, refusing to show that her words had rattled his confidence. “You must be a foodie,” he joked, determined to brighten her mood, “because I’ve never seen anyone take twenty minutes to decide what to order.”
“Is that a crime?” she quipped. “I didn’t realize I was being timed.”
His gaze strayed from her eyes to her lips. He liked watching them move, imagined how they’d feel around his— Jackson slammed the brakes on the explicit thought. Luscious Lips was stunning, no doubt, one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen in the flesh, but he could do without her brusque tone and frosty attitude.
“I’ll have a pistachio cupcake.”
Jackson
