Sweet Seduction

“I mean perfect.”

Oh, my God. Did his eyes just drop to her boobs? “This is not appropriate.”

“Probably not. Though neither is greeting me in smokin’ hot underwear.”

She covered her face, and he pulled her hands away, dropping his head toward her. “But that’s not the best part.” For a startling moment, Daisy thought Colin Forsythe was going to kiss her. More surprising, Daisy hoped he would. Oh, good lord. There was something wrong with her!

Colin didn’t kiss her, however. Oh, no. What he did was almost more intimate in Daisy’s estimation. He shut his eyes and took in a long, slow, deep breath. His smile grew as leisurely as his exhalation.

“Vanilla, orange zest, cinnamon...” He paused to inhale even more deeply right by Daisy’s cheek. “And rosemary. That last one is unexpected, but very nice.”

Daisy stared at him. At his lips, more specifically. Her heart pounded like a meat tenderizer whacking away in her chest. She’d made rosemary and orange crisps early that morning. How on earth had he detected that? Was it possible that for the first time in her life, she’d met a person with a sense of smell as powerful as her own?

No, it couldn’t be.

But even more unbelievable was the fact that this much too tall, far too arrogant, nosy man was licking his lips like the next thing he wanted to sample was Daisy herself.

2 (#ulink_93d930fd-1979-5716-bbcf-90ddde9cd88b)

“HERE’S TO NANA SIN’S.”

“Thanks, Glo.” Daisy raised her glass and clinked it against her best friend’s.

“Don’t thank me. I’ve been waiting for a reason to come to Le Beau Monde ever since it opened. Your recent celebrity status is the perfect excuse. Tonight’s on me, by the way.”

Daisy blushed. Actually, she’d been blushing for three days straight, ever since Colin Forsythe’s article—not just a review, but a half-page feature—had appeared in the Tribune.

Her blush became a full-body flush when Gloria quoted a line from the review. “‘Daisy Sinclair, who is as sinfully delicious and entertaining as the bakery itself, runs Nana Sin’s like it is her own kitchen, creating a cozy, familiar atmosphere with some of the finest pastries I’ve ever encountered.’ Good lord, Daise, it’s like the guy’s smitten with you or something.”

“Yeah, well...” She hadn’t told Gloria about the underwear debacle or the outright flirting that ensued. Gloria would only read more into the encounter than there was. Plus, Daisy didn’t want to jinx things for Saturday’s date. Not that she believed in jinxes. She mostly didn’t. But it’d been a long time since her last date, and Daisy figured it was better to play it safe and keep it on the down low for now.

God! She had a date with Colin Forsythe. How on earth did that happen? Daisy replayed the scene over in her mind while nodding absently as Gloria gave her typical monologue, assessing the decor of the restaurant—hazards of being an interior designer and stager.

“Are you listening?” Gloria asked.

“Yep.”

“Why are your eyes closed?”

Daisy’s eyes popped open. “Sorry. Go on. You were saying something about paisley.”

Once Gloria started in on the upholstery again, Daisy went back to her daydream. She remembered Colin checking his watch and swearing under his breath because it was later than he’d thought. When she went to shake his hand goodbye, he held hers instead of shaking it.

What are you doing Saturday? Even after replaying that line a bajillion times in her head, Daisy still felt a weird somersault-y thing in her stomach.

When she told him she was going to the Celebrity Hors d’oeuvres Gala, he’d taken her hand, turned it over, kissed the back of her knuckles and asked her if she would do him the honor of accompanying him to the Gala, as he was going, as well.

Seriously.

It was like something out of one of the historical-romance novels she absolutely adored. Sure, he was only playing at being chivalrous, but it had worked. Holy Hannah, had it worked. Even now parts of Daisy’s anatomy came alive, parts that had been dormant for too long.

“Why are you smiling?” Gloria asked.

“I’m happy. That’s all.” Daisy took a sip of her cosmopolitan, hoping to cover up her giddiness and the fact that she hadn’t been listening to her friend.

Thankfully the server appeared with their food, giving Daisy an excuse to focus on something other than Colin Forsythe and her friend’s much too perceptive appraisal of her strange behavior. She’d spill everything to Gloria after the date.

“Your duck looks delicious,” Gloria said, pulling out her cell phone and taking a picture. Then she snapped a few of her own dish.

“What are you doing?”

“Instagram, baby.” Gloria showed her the pictures—pretty amazing quality for a cell phone. “People love pictures of food almost as much as they love the real thing.”

“Not me. It’s the real thing or nothing.” Now that Daisy was off the diet wagon, she cheerfully sliced into her candied breast of duck with a garlic-caramel sauce. Placing the food in her mouth, she sat for a minute, savoring the sweet, tender meat.

“What do you think?”

“Mmm.” Daisy raised her cloth napkin to her lips. “The French know how to cook.”

She took another bite of the duck and then followed it with a forkful of risotto. “Oh, my God!” She covered her mouth in ecstasy. “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven. I’m sure I taste lavender in this and maybe... Gloria? Are you okay?”

Her best friend seemed more interested in a table across the restaurant than in her.

“What is it?”

Gloria half stood to get a better look at whatever it was that had caught her attention. “Isn’t that him?”

“Who?” Daisy turned to look where her friend was trying to point inconspicuously with her chin.

Across the room, a man sat alone at his table, eyes closed, a pencil poised in his hand, wearing an expression that was so serious it bordered on comical. He’d had his hair cut, but there was no mistaking him.

Colin.

Daisy couldn’t swallow. She took a gulp of water to wash the risotto down and then stared. A moment later, as if he could feel her gaze, he opened his eyes and stared right back. Daisy smiled. Then she blushed. Or, she blushed, then smiled. It was hard to tell which came first.

Colin looked away.

“That’s him, isn’t it? Colin Forsythe?” Gloria whispered.

“Yes.”

“Have you thanked him for the review?”

“No, I...” She’d wanted to. In fact, she’d gone as far as picking up the phone two or three hundred times for just that purpose. But every time she did, she’d put it right back down, not wanting to seem too eager, wanting to wait until Saturday to thank him.

“Go thank him.”

Of course she should thank him. It only made sense. But for some reason, the risotto she’d swallowed felt like jumping beans in her belly, and her hands had gone cold while her cheeks were about to spontaneously combust. She was being silly. He was just a man, and she was just a woman—a woman he’d already seen in her undies. No big deal.