He growled and she frowned at him. “What?”
“I can never seem to say the right thing to you.”
Music from the string quartet blended with the noise of wedding guests taking seats. The best man took the microphone, hit it to make sure it was live. The tap, tap, tap rolled into the room like thunder.
Wyatt caught Missy’s hand. “Let’s go outside.”
Confused, she let him lead her through the French doors to a wide wooden deck, which was filled with milling wedding guests. Avoiding them, he guided her to the steps, and they clambered down until they stood in a quiet garden.
She looked around. She hadn’t done a lot of exploring of the country clubs and other wedding venues where she took her cakes, but seeing how beautiful, and inspiring, this garden was, maybe she should.
“This is nice.”
He sighed heavily. “Let’s not change the subject until I get out what I want to say.”
She peeked over at him, suddenly realizing how alone they were. All her nerve endings sprang to life. She’d never been attracted to a man like this. And he wasn’t just nice, he was thoughtful. Or trying. When he made a mistake he wanted to fix it. He didn’t just walk away.
Her thoughts from before popped into her brain again.
What if something really was happening between them? Something real? Something important? Something permanent?
“I understand why my offering you money doesn’t fit your plan. But I still feel like we’re not beyond the insult.”
She pressed her lips together. She was right. He didn’t walk away. He fixed what he broke. So different from her dad and her ex.
“What you said in the car today about being able to support yourself…I thought it was pride, but I finally get it. I see the bride-cake connection. You don’t want money or help because you know this is going to work because you have that instinct. The thing that’s going to push you above the rest. You are going to be one of the best in your business. You don’t need help.”
Her insides melted. She loved it when a bride gushed over a cake, or wedding guests sought her out to compliment her, but this wasn’t just a compliment. This was Wyatt. A successful entrepreneur. Somebody who knew good work when he saw it. Somebody who saw that she had what it took to be successful.
Her blood warmed with pleasure that quickly turned to yearning. He was gorgeous and attracted to her. Plus, he understood her. Would it be so wrong to start something with him?
It had been so long since she’d wanted something for herself, purely for herself, that she instinctively tried to talk herself out of it. She told herself it felt wrong, because she knew she had to be self-sufficient before she started anything serious with a man.
But this was Wyatt. This was a guy who understood. A guy who didn’t run. A guy who fixed things. A guy who liked her and believed in her. The little voice in her heart told her to relax and let it happen.
She smiled sheepishly, not quite sure what a woman did nowadays to let a man know she’d changed her mind and was willing to go after what they both seemed to want. “Thanks for the compliment.”
He sighed again, this time as if relieved. “You’re welcome.”
Silence settled over them. It should have been the nice, comfortable silence of two friends. But her stomach quivered and her nerve endings lit up, as if begging to be touched. She’d never before felt this raw, wonderful need, and she wished with all her might that he’d kiss her.
As if reading her mind, he stepped close again. He laid a hand on her cheek. “Missy.”
His head began to descend.
She swallowed hard. Even as the sensations rushing through her begged to be explored, new fear leaped inside her. It had been four long years since she’d kissed someone.
Four years.
And she wasn’t just considering kissing. What burned between them was so hot she knew they’d end up in bed sooner rather than later. With their faces mere inches apart, her heart hit against her ribs. Was she ready for this?
His mouth met hers and liquid heat filled her. Like lava, it erupted from her middle and poured through her veins. She put her hands on his cheeks, just wanting to touch him, but when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she used them to bring him closer.
She’d never felt anything like this. The pleasure. The passion. The pure, unadulterated sensuality that left her breathless and achy.
His hands roamed from her shoulders to her waist and back up again. Hers fell from his cheeks to his shoulder, down his long, lean back, and slowly—enjoying every smooth demarcation of muscle and sinew beneath his T-shirt—drifted up again. He was so strong. So solid. Everything inside her wept with yearning. For four years she’d been nothing but a mom. A busy mom. Right now she felt like a woman. Flesh and blood. Heat and need.
As his mouth continued to plunder hers, she pictured them tangled in the covers of her big four-poster bed. Desire whooshed through her. Everything was happening so fast that her head spun.
She thought she knew him…but did she?
He thought he knew her…but he didn’t. Nobody did.
She stopped kissing him, squeezed her eyes shut. That was the real reason she shied away from men. Nobody knew her. Sure, Wyatt had seen her stubborn streak. He’d seen her with the kids, in full mom mode, but nobody knew about her dad. Nobody knew about the beatings, the alcoholism, the gambling that had colored her childhood and had formed who she was. And at this stage in her life, she wasn’t sure she could tell anybody. Just as she was equally sure Wyatt, this Wyatt who fixed things, who probed into things, who wanted to make everything right, would never let her get away with the usual slick answers she gave when anyone asked her if she’d seen her dad lately.
Wyatt would realize there’d been trouble in her past and he’d demand she talk about it.
She stepped away. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
He caught her hand and tugged her back. “Seems to me you were ‘doing’ it just fine.”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed. He was such a fun guy, but her past was just too much to handle. Even for him.
She slipped away from him. “I’m serious. I don’t want a relationship—”
He caught her hand and yanked her back. “That’s perfect, because I don’t want a relationship, either.”
That confused her so much she frowned. “You don’t want a relationship?”
He chuckled. “No.”
She pointed at him, then herself, then back at him. “Then what’s this?”
“A fling?”
She blinked. A fling? While she was worried about telling him her deepest, darkest secret, he was thinking fling?
“Look,
