“And you,” I say. “This feels like home. And I’m recruiting you some new customers. Can I get a mixed dozen sent to Hawk Legal to Katie and the team from me?”
“Of course. Today?”
“Yes, please.”
“You got it. I’ll have them there in an hour,” she says, and then gives me a coy look. “Interesting to see you with Dash.”
“I’m working on a charity auction he’s involved with. In fact, I might want to contract you guys for cupcakes.”
“We’d love that. Just let us know. I thought you were working in New York?”
“I am, but this is in partnership with the company I work for there, so it’s perfect. A little at-home holiday time.”
“Good. Good.” She eyes something over my shoulder—Dash, I assume—and says, “He’s an interesting guy. Kind of famous, and so very good-looking. Don’t you think?”
Seeing where she’s going with this, I hold up my hands, “We’re friends. That’s all.”
“That’s not how he looks at you, darlin’, or the way you look at him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, and I don’t. At least not where Dash is concerned but she’s hooked me with that tease and now I’m curious. I ease closer and whisper, “How does he look at me?”
“Like you’re a cupcake he wants to lick.” She grins. “Cupcakes on the way. And they’re on Dash. He said to put whatever you want on his tab.” Her grin widens and she walks away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
My heart thunders in my chest. Adrianna thinks Dash looks at me like I’m a cupcake he wants to lick? No. That’s ridiculous. Isn’t it?
I turn to face the seating area and find Dash watching me. I wave like a silly school girl.
Shoot me now, I’m an idiot.
His response is the slow curve of his sexy mouth into one of those perfect smiles of his. Probably because I’m just so adorable and not in a good way.
I draw in a calming breath that is not really calming at all. Not when I’m walking toward the table and Dash isn’t even pretending to look away. He watches my every step and when I slide into the seat, I nervously fill the space with conversation. “I got Katie two cupcakes and me ten.”
He laughs. “I might have to demand at least two for me.”
“Hmmm,” I contemplate. “Maybe one. Two really is a little demanding.”
“I can be very demanding,” he replies, his eyes alight with what reads like flirtatious mischief, but once again I dismiss such an idea. He’s just playing around.
“You won’t be at the office to claim your one little cupcake.”
“Two,” he rebuts.
“One and I had them delivered, so you’ll have to come to the office to claim your order. Actually, I think you paid for my order, which was quite kind of you. I owe you cupcakes.” My voice softens. “Thank you for everything.” I sigh. “But alas, on that note, I should go.” I glance at the time on my watch. “Yes. Definitely.”
He slides his computer inside the black leather bag on the chair.
“What are you doing?” I ask, pushing to my feet at the same time he stands up and pulls his bag to his shoulder.
“Going with you.” He rounds the table and grabs my coat.
“Why are you going with me?” I ask, now worried that he believes me destined to mishandle the auction.
“Because I want to go with you, Allie,” he says, his voice low and velvety while his blue eyes glint with a hint of green in the overhead lights.
I dare to step closer to him, lowering my voice to ask, “Why?”
“When something matters to you, you act like it.”
“You know I’ll do a good job, right?” I ask and not defensively. Not at all. His name is attached to the auction and I know how mishandled it’s been thus far.
“I do know. Me being involved is actually a reflection of my trust in you, Allie.” He holds open my coat.
“Thank you,” I say, before I slide inside it, and turn to face him. “But I don’t understand that answer. You weren’t involved. Now I’m involved and you want to take time from your writing to go look at the venue?”
“You’re holding my cupcake ransom, cupcake. Remember?”
I laugh. “Cupcake?”
“Yep. It’s pretty adorable, right?”
“No. No, my new nickname is not cupcake and it is not adorable.”
“All right then, beautiful,” he says and that velvety quality to his voice is back. “Let’s get to that meeting.”
My cheeks heat with his obvious reference to my name preferences. “I’m never going to live down the whole adorable thing, am I?”
He retrieves my bag from the back of my chair. “Eventually,” he promises with a wink. “But in the meantime, I’ll have some fun with it.”
He indicates my bag. “I see you got a new one.”
“An old friend,” I say of the well-worn Coach bag. “It works as a purse and a briefcase since I still haven’t taken my broken bag to the store to get it repaired.” I take it from him. “It doesn’t match your shoes.”