Weddings, Lace, and Cake in the Face (Good Girls Don't Come Last Book Four) - Paperback

A hard smile stretches over his lips. “Shall we dance?”

My traitorous body sizzles with anticipation just thinking about being close to Jasper. “Fine,” I bark.

Jasper picks up his plate, takes it to the garbage, and scrapes off the peel before placing it into the sink and running water over it. I grab his silverware and glass and put the items into the sink. Our hands brush, tracing ribbons of heat through my stomach. This idiotic attraction to Jasper is maddening.

We go into the living room. I steel my shoulders as I mentally prepare myself for the task. The idea is to keep my feelings in check. On top of everything else I’m going through, I certainly don’t need the added humiliation of Jasper thinking I’m pining away for him. I step into the center of the room. “Let’s do this,” I grumble.

With a cheeky grin, he comes in my direction with fluid steps. Wow, he’s fit. Men like Jasper Donelson are the reason people call firefighters hunky. No wonder he’s in such great shape. When he’s working his 24-hour shift, he spends the bulk of his free time working out at the state-of-the-art gym at the firehouse. And then, on his days off, he boxes with Beau and Memphis.

“No music?” he asks, a wicked glint in his chocolate eyes. A curl slips down on his forehead, giving him a boyish look.

My fingers itch to run through his messy curls. “I don’t have a music player, but I guess I could find us something on my phone.”

“Well, yeah,” he spouts back. “Who wants to dance without music? I’m already gonna look like a yard chicken pecking his way through the grass. I at least need some music as a distraction.” He flaps his arms and starts walking like a chicken.

I can’t help but laugh. Jasper knows just how to pull my strings. “Okay, I’ll get my phone.” For a second, I forget about the bakery or Jasper taking Renee to the dance. The weight on my heart lightens considerably as I hurry into the kitchen to get my phone. I go back into the living room and scroll through my music. Most of the songs are fast for clogging. Finally, I find a playlist by the band Chicago. The mellow tune of Hard Habit to Break fills the room.

My heart beats faster as I step up to him. I can’t deny that he exudes a power that draws me to him like a magnet. Without my heels, my head comes to Jasper’s shoulders. I feel petite and dainty in comparison to his powerful body. I look up at him as his compelling gaze holds mine. My voice sounds too cheerful in my ears as I begin the instruction. “I place my left hand on your shoulder.” I place my hand on him, trying not to notice the ridges of his muscles. We clasp hands. He takes my hand in a firm grip, evoking a string of shivers down my spine. The warmth from his skin flows into me like a heater. I swallow, willing myself to get a grip. “Put your other hand on my waist.”

He does as I instruct but then frowns. “Nah, that’s not working for me.”

My jaw goes slack. “Huh?”

He encircles my waist, pulling me to him with such force that I grunt in surprise.

Soft laughter rolls from his throat. “Much better. Now what?”

For a split second, all thoughts fly right out of my head. Then, I manage to collect myself. “We move to the beat of the music. The guy leads.”

A cocky grin tips his lips. “I’m all for that.” He begins wheeling me around in a circle, our joined hands moving up and down.

“Slow down, speed racer,” I giggle. “We’re not rowing a boat.”

He gives me a sheepish grin as he backs off a little.

“You direct me with the flex of your hand on the center of my lower back.”

He puts pressure on my back to go a certain direction. “Like so?”

“Yep, that’s it.” Jasper has always been a quick study. I have no doubt that he’ll master dancing just as surely as he has mastered everything else.

He practices moving me around in various directions.

“Good. Now, twirl me.”

His eyes widen. “Huh?”

I chuckle at the surprise on his face. “Release the pressure on my hand and hold up your arm.” As he does so, I dart underneath. “Now, pull me back into your arms.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he murmurs. His eyes deepen with an intensity that quivers anticipation through me.

The next song is You’re the Inspiration. We sway in silence. The energy in the room is crackling and sizzling, building like an electrical storm. I don’t know how much more of this I can take without giving in and pressing my lips to his.

“What next?” he asks softly.

“Hmm?” With a slight jump, I break myself out of the spell. He’s asking which dance step is next. “We can do the cuddle step.”

His eyes sparkle. “If you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do was say the word.”

Right on cue, my cheeks go warm. I roll my eyes. “Don’t get too excited. It’s a dance move. You take your left arm and then turn me to the left.” Pivoting my hand in his, I position myself so that my back is resting against his stomach. His embrace is powerful, thrilling. My breath hitches when he leans into my ear. His warm breath tickles and teases my skin as he murmurs, “How’s that?”

“Good,” I croak. He smells so good—so wonderfully fresh and masculine. Okay, I have to think here. “To get me out, lift your left arm again, and I step out.” I turn to face him.

His eyes light with mirth. “I like that move. Let’s try it again.”

I don’t know how much more of this my heart can take without shattering to pieces. “Once more,” I say tonelessly as he lifts his arm and turns me into another embrace. He steps closer to me as we sway.

“Okay, now turn me out,” I instruct.

“Not yet. We’re still cuddling.”

Laughter ripples from my throat. “I never pictured you as a cuddler.”

“You never pictured me as a lot of things,” he utters, his voice going husky.

His touch is so wonderful and yet, so agonizing.

The words spill from my lips. “What’s happening here?”

“You tell me.”

One of the things I love most about baking is how if you follow the recipe with exactness, you can pretty much count on the loaf of bread coming out dang near perfect every time. If only my life were that simple. I wish somebody would’ve told me when I was a kid that the fateful day I decided to play truth or dare would ultimately lead to my recipe for disaster. You might be asking, how did this come about?

I’ll tell you right now that it all boils down to statistics. For example, do you know how many dogs get killed by cars each year? I read an article online that puts the number somewhere in the neighborhood of one million. Yikes! That’s a lot of dead dogs and sad owners. The article had a number of suggestions for how to avoid the heartache of losing your dog. I know a surefire way that you can avoid any grief—don’t get a dog.

I avoid a slew of pesky problems by analyzing the situation and taking every precaution to keep myself out of a bad spot. For example, the one thing I can’t say no to is a fresh-out-of-the-oven gooey chocolate chip cookie. So what do I do? I clog afterward to burn up the calories. If an average cookie has anywhere between eighty to a hundred calories … and if I can burn four hundred calories for an hour’s worth of clogging, that means that twenty-five minutes should do the trick. By following this regimen, I can eat a cookie a day without worrying that what goes in my lips will end up on my hips.

As you’ve probably already guessed, this really isn’t about cookies or weight gain, or even owning a dog. Jasper tells me that my fixation on what could go wrong keeps me from living a full, productive life. A few weeks ago, I would’ve argued to the death that he was wrong. Now, however … well, I’m not so sure. I’m having to rethink everything because no matter how hard I’ve tried to avoid disaster, it’s staring me in the face. I’m on the brink of losing the two things I want most in this world. And no amount of pre-planning on my part seems to have made a difference.

Back to the truth or dare thing. You wanna know how a simple child’s game led to my demise?

Well, I’m about to tell you …