Pure Indulgence

He swiped at his chin with the back of his hand. “Did I get it?”

“Ahh, no…” Tentatively, she reached out and removed the sticky substance in a slow caress of her thumb. If it were just the two of them, he would have grabbed her wrist and sucked the sweetness right off her finger, and nibbled and tasted his way up her arm from there.

“See?” She showed him the smear of white froth, a smile in her eyes and on her lips. “That’s why only the adventurous should attempt to eat the Pink Squirrel fondue. It can be quite messy.”

“Maybe next time you’ll just have to feed it to me so I can avoid the mess.” That adorable blush swept across her cheeks again, and he had to stifle an amused laugh. “So, tell me, do you make all these desserts, cakes and candies from scratch?”

She grabbed a napkin to wipe her sticky finger and nodded. “Using only the finest, freshest ingredients, of course.”

Judging by the tastes he’d encountered, he didn’t doubt that in the least, which made his interest in her twofold. “And where is your shop located?”

“Seaport Village,” she said, naming one of San Diego’s biggest and most popular landmarks for tourist shopping. “Pure Indulgence has been there for about six months now.”

Finished with his fruit and fondue, he handed her the empty plate, which she put in the plastic bin of dirty dishes behind her. “Have you ever heard of Tremaine’s Downtown?”

“Of course I have. You can’t live in San Diego and not have heard of the restaurant, though I’ve never been there myself.” She refilled the fork and napkin holders, keeping busy as she talked. “But if you’re looking for a recommendation, I hear the food and service there are outstanding.”

He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “So I’ve been told a time or two.”

She blinked at him, momentarily confused by his comment, then understanding dawned. “Ohmigosh, Tremaine’s Downtown is your restaurant?”

“Yep. And I was thinking, after trying your desserts and seeing that there’s more out there than chocolate mousse and plain cheesecake, it’s time I update my dessert menu. Make it more exotic and different, rather than just offering the same old thing that everyone else does.”

“Updating is always a good thing,” she agreed. “As is offering your dining customers something different and unique to your restaurant alone.”

“Exactly,” he said, pleased that she concurred with his way of thinking. “Do you accept custom orders? Such as creating one-of-a-kind desserts that could be exclusive to Tremaine’s Downtown alone?”

Her eyes widened, and she placed a hand on her chest. “You want me to design your desserts?”

Her tone was incredulous, her expression so awed that he wanted to laugh, but instead he nodded seriously. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathed in amazement. “I’ve never had anyone ask for an exclusivity agreement before, but in this case, it can certainly be arranged.”

“Excellent.” That’s precisely what he wanted to hear, and he experienced a rush of anticipation over the thought of giving his dessert menu an overhaul, especially with his new restaurant, Tremaine’s Uptown, being built within the next year. And it didn’t hurt that he’d be in close contact with Kayla and could get to know her better. “Do you have a business card with you?”

“Actually I do.” Withdrawing a card from her pocket, she handed it to him from across the table. “I never leave home without them.”

Another brush of their fingers sent a surge of awareness rippling between them. He caught the flash of heat and desire in her dark gaze, and felt the intimate connection that teased them both with an abundance of possibilities. It was an attraction he intended to pursue, right along with sampling more of her decadent desserts.

“This is great, Kayla Thomas.” He tucked the business card into his inside coat pocket for safekeeping. “You’ll definitely be hearing from me.”

Their eyes met and held, her mouth curving into that soft, sensual smile of hers that too easily wreaked havoc on his libido. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, her voice husky.

“Jack, darling, there you are!”

Jack stiffened at the high-pitched, overly possessive sound of his date’s voice interrupting his too-short interlude with Kayla. Reality intruded with an unpleasant jolt, and he reluctantly turned to find Gretta Ward fast approaching on her stiletto heels. The other woman eyed Kayla with disdain before she came up to Jack’s side, hooked her arm through the crook of his elbow, and pressed her silicone-enhanced breasts and lithe, slender body against his.

His gut clenched hard as he watched the hopeful smile fade from Kayla’s lips. Disappointment etched her features, and he knew she’d come to the conclusion that Gretta was his girlfriend and everything that had transpired between them had been a flirtatious farce. She likely thought he’d been toying with her like some kind of insensitive jerk. Of course that was far from the truth, but there was no way to explain the situation without making a bigger mess of things.

Gretta pouted up at him, her sulky expression adding to the dramatic display. “I’ve been looking for you for the past fifteen minutes.”

She scolded him in a way that made him feel like a small child, which grated on his nerves, as did most of Gretta’s antics. Over the years, he’d gotten into the habit of dating convenient women, and he didn’t realize how much they bored and disgusted him, until now.

Very calmly, he replied. “You disappeared off to the ladies’ room, and while you were gone I thought I’d try out the desserts.”

Gretta wrinkled her nose at the assortment of cakes, candies and other treats, then brazenly slipped her hand inside his coat and smoothed her palm over his chest in a blatant display of ownership. “I’m the only sweet thing you need, darling.”

He inwardly cringed and tried to disengage her from his arm to give himself breathing room. Like a leech, she refused to let go. “The fruit and fondue are great. You ought to give it a try.”

“I’ll pass.” Gretta slanted a quick, assessing glance toward Kayla. “I work hard at keeping my figure in shape, and that means watching what I eat.”

While Gretta’s tone was casual, her words sounded too much like a deliberate slur against Kayla’s softer, fuller curves. And judging by the quick flash of pain he saw in Kayla’s eyes, followed closely by her physical withdrawal, he knew Gretta’s comment had struck a vulnerable nerve.

“Besides,” Gretta went on, dismissing Kayla in favor of returning her attention to Jack, “you know I don’t eat anything made from refined sugar and that fondue is no doubt filled with sugar and carbohydrates.”

No, he didn’t know that about her, and her attempt at familiarity in front of Kayla annoyed him. Though by the calculating look in Gretta’s eyes, she’d probably watched them from afar and was purposefully goading Kayla while staking her claim on him.

Of which she had none, he thought irritably.

After three dates with Gretta, and especially after tonight, it was becoming increasingly obvious that it was time to sever their relationship before she entrenched herself any deeper into his life. Each of the three times they’d been together, she grew more smothering, more demanding, and now, too damned possessive. The signs were ones he recognized too well—like many that had come before Gretta, she had designs on becoming Mrs. Jack Tremaine.

Not likely. She was far from what he considered wife material, which made him look at Kayla in a whole new light.

The contrast between the two women was glaring. While Gretta was outwardly beautiful and sophisticated with an amazing body compliments of plastic surgery, she lacked the warmth and genuine goodness that Kayla exuded so effortlessly, so naturally. And those traits were beginning to matter to him, in ways he was more than ready to open himself up to. With the right woman.

A man and his wife came up to the table, and Kayla quietly excused herself to help the couple choose their desserts. But not before he saw the regret glimmering in her eyes.

He felt like the world’s biggest heel.

He wanted to call her back, apologize for Gretta’s rude comments, and explain that his interest in her was real. But there was nothing left to say to Kayla…not until he ended things with Gretta.

Which couldn’t be soon enough for him.

2

“SO, HOW DID your catered event go tonight?”

“Not bad.” Tucking the cordless phone between her neck and ear, Kayla settled against the pillows propped against the headboard of her bed, glad to hear her sister’s encouraging voice after her busy, exhausting evening. “Better than expected, actually.” If you don’t count what an absolute fool I made of myself over the gorgeous, sexy Jack Tremaine.

She cringed at the embarrassing memory, still unable to believe that she’d read all the signals between them so inaccurately. She’d thought, hoped, that the attraction was mutual, that the interest she’d glimpsed in the depths of his devastatingly blue eyes had been real.

Obviously, she’d only imagined what she wanted to be real—for her to be the focus of a good-looking man’s attentions, and for him to look deeper than at surface appearances.

The truth of the matter was, she wasn’t head-turningly gorgeous or sophisticated, and she never would be. That wasn’t who she was, as she’d learned the hard way in her previous relationship.

Doug had been a good-looking man she’d met after struggling to shed those stubborn twenty pounds that always seemed to hang on to her hips and thighs. They’d dated for a year, and she’d thought he might be “the one”, until she’d gradually started gaining the weight back. Then, she’d seen a very judgmental side to the man she’d thought she’d known so well. That side had reinforced every negative comment her mother had ever made about her less-than-perfect body. Doug had issued her an ultimatum that had struck right where she was the most vulnerable—get skinny again, or get dumped.

Knowing she was destined to be curvaceous, and refusing to change for any man ever again, she’d ended the relationship. It had taken her months to come to terms with the fact that she’d never be svelte and slender like her sister, to believe in herself and accept her full curves and ordinary, but pretty features. She only had relapses when someone or something dredged up the insecurities she’d lived with most of her life.