Author: Jill Shalvis

He got out of bed, tripped over Kevin, and headed down the hall to the living room. The dog happily trotted along after him, thrilled to have his people awake, even more thrilled because he could tell time and knew it was way past time to eat. To remind Jack, he put his icy nose on Jack’s ass, goosing him.

Jack picked up Leah’s clothes from the living room floor and handed them over. She began to jerk them on, doing that whole not-quite-making-eye-contact thing that he recognized. It was what she did right before she did something stupid, and some of his glow faded. “That was quick,” he said.

“What?”

“The regret.”

“Don’t start.” She whirled for her shoes and purse. “This is all your fault.”

“Mine?” He laughed. “You gave me a birthday blow job, which started the whole thing. How was that my fault?”

“Because you came home looking edgy and rumpled and…hot. And then I took your clothes off and…and you looked even hotter.”

He grinned. “You think I’m sexy.”

“The entire female race thinks you’re sexy.” She sighed. “Okay, Mr. Rules, Mr. Gotta Be In Charge…we’re going to have to renegotiate some things.”

“Such as?”

“That,” she said, and pointed to the bed. “What the hell are we going to do about that?”

“If you’re referring to the amazing orgasms, then I vote for more as soon as possible.”

“At least that part isn’t pretend,” she said.

He frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

“Look, forget it. But we need to remember your first rule: this isn’t real and there are no hurt feelings.” She whirled away and began digging through her purse for her keys. “When people are bitching that I don’t have any fresh bread or donuts available today at the bakery, I’m going to blame you.”

“Sure,” he said, a little distracted by her reiterating his own rule. Which was ridiculous of him. “My reputation could use the boost.”

She rolled her eyes, headed to the door, then stopped, sighed, and came back to him. “You’re still naked.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just in case you want to give me any more birthday presents.”

“Look, Jack,” she said and then paused.

Uh-oh. “You going to dump me on my birthday?” he asked softly.

“It’s the day after your birthday.” She closed her eyes. “And I don’t know what I’m doing here, Jack. I feel antsy. I feel like…”

“You have to run?”

Her silence was answer enough, and he felt the age-old temper for her father rear its ugly head. “You’re letting your past rule you again. It’s your life, Leah. Own it. Do with it what you want.”

“It’s not that.”

They both knew it was a lie. She sighed and put a hand to his chest and then dropped her head to it. “I’m having trouble with this pretend thing.”

His heart kicked hard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, dammit, you’re messing with my head.” She lifted hers. “We have to go back to pretend, Jack. All pretend. It’s a rule! And it’s for my own mental health!”

He thought of what they’d done to each other in the name of sheer lust over the past twenty-four hours, how she was saying what he already knew. They were skating on thin ice. Thin, cracked ice. “What about for my mental health?” This came out completely unbidden, and if he had a do-over card, he’d have taken it back. He didn’t want to discuss his mental health, or lack thereof. Hell no.

“What are you saying?” she asked.

“Nothing. Forget it.” He turned away, stopping to look down when he felt her hand on his arm.

“Jack,” she said softly.

“Throwing in the towel now makes sense,” he heard himself say. “My mom’s getting better. The treatment’s working.”

“Oh, Jack, that’s wonderful. I’d hoped…”

He nodded. “She’s still got some treatments left, but the bottom line is that it’s working.” He paused, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed broken glass. “So I suppose it’s best to break her heart sooner than later and tell her the truth.” Feeling hollow, he took a step back. “You’re late,” he reminded her.

“But…are we…okay?”

“Aren’t we always?”

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and headed toward the door, and he let her go.

Had to.

She was in denial, and he wasn’t going to call her on it because…well, hello, Pot, meet Kettle.

Still, he hauled her back against him, using the stolen moment to adjust the collar on her sweater so it covered as much of her throat as possible. For her.

And then he kissed her one last time, long and wet and deep.

For him.

Chapter 20

Leah raced home, changed, then continued on her rush to the bakery, definitely not thinking about all that had just happened in the past twenty-four hours: being in Jack’s bed—and then later on his couch, his table, his bathroom counter… Everything about it had been magical.

And then the not-so-magical morning after.

She had to park down the street, and she ran to the back door and the bakery, only to skid to a shocked stop.

Her grandma was in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by the day’s baked goods.

“But,” Leah said, staring around. Fresh bread. Muffins. Pies… “You made all this?”

Elsie grinned and poured Leah a big mug of burn-the-hair-off-your-tongue, straight-black coffee.

Leah took a few gulps and let the caffeine sink in. But she was still boggled. “Did the pastry fairy visit?”

Elsie laughed, soft and musical. “Funny thing about not having to get up at four in the morning to start baking every day…you don’t mind doing it once in a while. In fact, I had the time of my life this morning.” She gestured to the recipes Leah had been working on, spread across the counter. “Your stuff is amazing, honey. Utterly amazing.”

“It’s all in the hands of the baker,” she said.

“No,” Elsie said. “It’s all in the heart of the person putting together the recipes.”

Leah didn’t know what to say. The praise, coming from her grandma, meant so much and embarrassed her at the same time, and she checked her watch.

Elsie laughed softly. “You can just say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“You never did learn how to take a compliment.”

Leah thought of how Jack had looked at her when he’d told her she was beautiful. How she’d wanted to close her eyes from the look in his warm gaze, the one that told her he meant it, down to his soul. She had closed her eyes, even as she’d wanted to hear him say it again…

But she’d blown that, hadn’t she?

Lord. She needed therapy.

“So…,” Elsie said. “Big day yesterday?”

Leah winced. “Sorry I didn’t come home. I—”

“Don’t you dare apologize. You have a life. I’m so happy for you, Leah.”

“It’s not what you think, Grandma. Jack and I are…” She broke off, not sure how to continue.

“Honey, anyone with eyes can see exactly what you and Jack are.” She smiled. “Now I’m going up front to see to our customers.”

Alone, Leah worked in the kitchen. She was nearly done when her phone rang. She jumped for it, hoping it was Jack. But of course it wasn’t, she’d made sure of that.

“Hey, Sweet Cheeks.” Rafe. “Finally able to give you a call. Got your email a few weeks back. Thought you’d forgotten about me there for a little while.”

“Not likely, since you’re on my TV every week.”

He laughed softly, an easy, contagious laugh. If one could make a mold of pure infectious charm and charismatic wit, it was Rafe. He knew how to make you forget everything but him. He knew how to get the best out of anyone. He knew how to get what he wanted.

And he had no soul.

“I thought about your offer,” she said.

“Which offer?”

He knew damn well which offer, so she remained quiet.

He laughed again. “Aw. You miss me. Who’d have thought?”

“I want the job.”

“But maybe it’s no longer available.”

Leah ground her teeth but kept her voice light. “Okay. Then I’ll go to the Food Network. They were interested as well.”

“Well, there’s no need to get your panties in a twist,” he said. “I was just messing with you. You used to have a sense of humor.”

“And you used to at least be a good guy.”

“I still am,” he said, a little more stiffly now. He had great illusions of being the perennial boy next door and didn’t like his faults pointed out to him. “The job offer stands.”

“You’re going to let me have my own reality show, following a group of fledgling pastry chefs in their final semester of school?”

“I’m going to let you have your own reality show, following you in your last semester of school.”

She stared at her phone. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“It’s been six months. The deal changed.”

“Rafe—”

“Look, Leah,” he said, not quite as jovial and friendly as before. “The ratings have been pouring in. You’re the little media darling now. The camera loves you, and the viewers love you. They all think you’re about to win this baby.”

She grimaced. “I haven’t said a word—”

“Of course not, or we’d have sued your sweet ass off.”

“I can’t just go back for my last semester,” she said, feeling a little panicky at just the thought of it. “I left there. They don’t take people back.”