The initial buzz about the wedding had started to fade, and as much as I enjoyed the freedom to actually date my fiancé, it all came bubbling back again when my mother arrived. She had flown down on the sly—probably hoping for another huge family get-together—and wanted to meet at an upscale bakery in Beverly Hills for a cake tasting.
After we made love, I knew I had to get going.
“Do you really have to go?” Marcus pouted. He was lying on his stomach on the comforter, stark naked, looking hotter than ever.
“I’ll only be a few hours—the tasting itself isn’t too long, but I’m meeting Amanda right after for lunch. In fact, if she and I over-indulge on the cosmos, there’s a good chance she’ll be coming back with me.”
“I’ll plan on seeing both of you then.” He grinned, holding my gemstone bra up teasingly as I reached for it on the floor.
“Give me that,” I reprimanded, snatching for it through the air.
He pulled it away too quickly and sat back against the pillows, laying it across his naked chest. “Come and get it. And I’m not going to make any promises—you might be late for your tasting.”
I chuckled and glanced at the time on my phone. “You know I want to, but I can’t. Hey, do you want to come along?” I threatened when he pouted once more. “I’m sure my mother and her platoon of bakers would be thrilled to see you.” The bra sailed apologetically through the air, landing in my outstretched hand. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I quickly finished dressing as he watched approvingly from the bed. When I was finally headed out the door, he called out once more.
“A goodbye kiss? Do I at least get that?”
I glanced back inside and couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him the bed. He was still stubbornly naked, holding a pillow innocently over his lap as his eyes danced and sparkled beneath dark, messy hair.
How would I ever be able to resist that?
I swept back inside and leaned down over him, planting a huge kiss right on his lips.
“There.” I grinned. “Satisfied?”
“Never.”
His arms came up and the next thing I knew, we were lost in a tangle of pillows and sheets. What can I say? Some things are worth being late for.
* * *
“Rebecca! We’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes!” my mother reprimanded as I hurried into the cake shop. Three expressionless women sat beside her, each one wielding a carving knife and a spoon.
“Fifteen,” I corrected breathlessly, “but who’s counting. Terrible traffic today.” I slipped out of my coat and took a seat across the table. “Who are they?”
I had recently been so heavily indoctrinated into a strange world of constantly revolving people that I had been basically numbed to strangers.
“This is Terry, Carry, and Mary,” she said stiffly. “They’ll be helping us today.”
I blinked. “Really?” No one blinked back, so I cleared my face with a quick smile. “That is so helpful—thank you. I really don’t know much of anything when it comes to cakes.”
“By the time we’re through with you, you will,” one of them replied in a heavy Russian accent. I couldn’t tell if it was a threat. The look on her face never changed.
Two hours and fourteen cakes later, I was in a pre-diabetic coma. In the end, we (and by we, I mean my mother and her automatons) had narrowed it down to three different choices that I’d vowed to show to Marcus at his earliest convenience. They’d told me the names repeatedly, but as I swept out of the bakery and hailed down a cab, I promptly forgot each of them in turn.
One was German chocolate…or maybe that was the one I’d said tasted like the bottom of a shoe…? Why the hell hadn’t I written any of this down?!
I was still trying to remember when I got to the appointed café and spotted Amanda waving to me from an outside corner. She flashed me a huge smile when I sat down and pushed forward a pretend plate.
“Cake?”
I groaned. “That is not even remotely funny. I think I gained ten pounds in there. My stomach is still reeling.”
And it was true. With all the processed sugar inside me, I felt like I might hurl.
“That bad, huh?” She flicked carelessly through her menu before settling on the appetizers. “Glad I didn’t come. I was debating it but…I really don’t like cake, to be honest.”