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  He shook his head and sighed. “No more than you confuse me.”

  “You are such a pain in my ass.”

  They both just stared at each other. Then Anson started laughing.

  “Not funny, Black.” Yet she couldn’t stop the smile on her face.

  “I was a big pain in your ass, wasn’t I?” He asked between laughter. “A manly pain as I came between those luscious cheeks.”

  “Shut up.” Great. Now she was flushing while she lay naked next to him.

  He laughed some more and pulled her into his arms, cradling her to him. “God, you’re gorgeous. And a virgin no longer.” He used her fist to beat on his chest and gave a mock war cry. “I have deflowered the sacrifice. Now she must drink from the sacred stalk of love.”

  Against her belly, he stirred, and she stared at him in shock.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Well, I’m only half-hard now. It’ll take a little bit to bring me back.” He winked at her. “Come on, Riley. You know I’ve been fantasizing about this with you for a long time. We have a few more positions to nail before I can let you rest.”

  “Let me?” She yawned.

  “Going to try to weasel your way out of it. Typical.”

  “Hmm?” She wanted to be more peeved at his tone, but he really had worn her out. “Just gimme a few minutes.”

  She heard him sigh, felt his kiss on her head and his arms tighten around her as he muscled the covers out from under her and tucked them both in. She thought she heard him say, “What am I going to do with you?” and mumbled an answer as she slid into a dreamless slumber.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Riley woke to see Anson giving her a strange look. The previous night’s events came back to her, and she had no idea how to feel. Embarrassed, sexy, or just plain weird? Without all the candles burning and room now bright, the scene seemed sordid, not erotic.

  He continued to stare at her, unblinking, and rested his chin in his hand as he lay on his side, watching her. As if she needed to be reminded that this awkward situation existed.

  She frowned. “You know, if you didn’t want me sleeping over, you should have said something.”

  Great. She had morning breath and needed to pee. So not attractive. At least she wasn’t due to wash her hair for a few more days, so despite not being pinned and wrapped, her gorgeous tresses—vanity be my name—would keep until she had the time to take care of them at home, in private.

  Anson smirked, and all the lust she’d felt last night resurged out of nowhere. “Sorry, sweet thing. Just remembering what you said to me last night.”

  “Could you be more specific?” Her cheeks were on fire, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. She’d begged him to do all manner of nasty, dirty, arousing things to her.

  Waiting for a sarcastic comment, she was unprepared when he smiled and leaned down for a quick kiss. She couldn’t even warn him about her dragon breath, because the kiss was there and gone in a split second.

  “Get up, lazybones. We’re meeting your mother for brunch.”

  She couldn’t help watching him move around. He had a morning hard-on he apparently had no problem waving around.

  She felt like a bull staring at a red flag, wanting to charge.

  Instead, she forced herself to wait for him to move to the closet. Then she jumped out of bed, winced at the soreness in her ass, and hurried to the bathroom. She closed the door on him and heard him say something unflattering about her attitude. Sorry, sex or no sex, no man would ever watch her on the toilet, period. Some things should never be done.

  After sprucing up as best she could, she threw on his robe before exiting the bathroom. “Hold on. What’s this about us going to meet my mother for brunch?”

  He pushed past her to use the bathroom. Then he had the nerve to run the shower—with the door open—as if them being naked in the morning together was no big deal. But she had to hand it to him. He took a fast shower and stood dried and dressed in under five minutes. He hadn’t shaved, and his five o’clock shadow was even sexier than him clean-shaven.

  “Like what you see?” he taunted, knowing very well his appeal.

  “My mother…?”

  He shrugged. “Thought you knew. She called me yesterday and asked if I’d like a knitting lesson, you know, to even the competition. I mean, with my grandmother all the way in Montana, it’s not that easy for me to get a free lesson with a pro.”

  She wanted to wipe away his smirk with a kiss. What happened to wanting to slap him silly? Now I want to kiss him silly?

  “My mother is getting a kick out of our little competition,” she said sourly, secretly ecstatic she would be spending more time with Anson. Against all good sense, she’d fallen for the arrogant hunk. The opportunity to be with him thrilled her. After how close they’d become last night, she worried her feelings for Anson would bite her in the ass sooner than later—literally.

  “I know. She filled me in.” He smiled as he finished brushing his hair without the aid of a mirror. Not even trying, on a scale of one to ten he rated an eleven. “She said she tried getting you to knit a long time ago but it never took. Now you need her skills and she’s loving it.” He set down his brush. “You know, you’re a lot like your mother. She’s pretty damn competitive. I noticed she likes to have the last word.”

  “You think?” She saw the time and dragged him with her out of the bedroom. “Come on. We have to get my car, then I need to stop by my place so I can get a change of clothes. Trust me. These are too wrinkled. My mother will know.”

  “Know what? That you begged me to take you? Over and over? That I fucked you into exhaustion?” he said with pride.

  “Will you stop?” Both exasperated and amused at his smugness, she couldn’t help but laugh as they left the house. After she collected her car, they arrived at her place. Once inside, she made haste and took a superfast cleanup, dressing in jeans and a nice sweater.

  They drove together to the Victorian Café to meet her mother. On the way, Anson asked, “What was your dad like?”

  “Where did that come from?”

  He shrugged. “I’m curious. You seem to take after your mom a lot. You guys even look alike. But you’re much taller than she is.”

  “She’s tiny.”

  “So I was thinking you must take after your dad.” After a moment, he added, “Or does it hurt to talk about him?”

  She glanced at him, but he kept his gaze on the road. “My dad? He was the best. I loved him like crazy, and so did my mom. I was four when he died of cancer, but sometimes when I smell peppermint, I think of him.” She smiled. The hurt she’d once felt for Darius Hewitt had faded a long time ago. Now when she thought of him, she remembered the good times, or what she recalled with the help of photos and her mother’s stories. She’d been so young when he died, raised by her mother and grandmother until Grandma Shirley passed as well.

  “Sounds like a great guy.”

  “He was.” She looked at Anson and surprised herself by saying, “I think he’d like you.”

  He glanced at her. “Really?”

  Riley smiled. “Really. To hear my mom tell it, my dad was a self-made man and a huge proponent of working your ass off to get ahead. He never had anything handed to him.”

  “Neither did your mom.”

  “True.” Her mother had been known in town as the Bend Curtain Lady for years before retiring. A true artist with fabric and a sewing machine, she’d provided well for her daughter and mother—who’d also helped with the business. Whereas Riley’s mother and grandmother turned to sewing as a craft, Riley had instead fallen in love with baking.

  “My mom met your mom that way, you know.”

  She nodded. “My mother loves to tell that story. Of how your mom said, ‘Oh, you’re Riley Hewitt’s mother,’ in that tone. The same one you use all the time.”

  “Tone? What tone?” He smiled to show he was teasing. “After talking to Cheryl for maybe five minutes, m
y mom knew she liked her. They still talk, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah. My mom tried crafting with your mom, but frankly she can’t sit still long enough to put the effort in. So they do margarita night at the Pink Lady’s Gathering instead.”

  “My mom?” Funny, her mother had never mentioned being tight with Anson’s mother.

  “Yep. I’m not supposed to know about it, but my dad keeps tabs.” He grinned. “Mom is apparently quite the lush every fourth Thursday of the month.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, right.” She couldn’t see the doting, prim and proper Mrs. Black getting tanked any night of the week. “How is it your mom is so nice and sedate and you’re…”

  “What?”

  “You.”

  “Funny.” They pulled in to park and found her mother waiting at a table inside for them.

  Cheryl Hewitt lit up when she saw them. Or rather, him. “Anson Black. You are getting so handsome. Every time I see you, you look better and better.”

  “Mom, stop. You’ll only inflate his ego,” Riley said automatically.

  Anson turned to her and raised a brow. “Truth is truth, Riley. The sooner you accept my amazingness, the happier you’ll be.”

  Her mother burst out laughing and stood to give Anson a hug in the crowded dining area. Before Riley could move around him to sit with her mother on the other side of the booth, he squeezed her next to him, blocking her in.

  “Hey.”

  Her mother frowned at her. “Riley, be nice. This way I can talk to both of you without having to strain my neck.”

  “Yeah, Riley, be nice.” Anson smirked.

  “So tell me, honey,” Cheryl said to Anson, “how’s the restaurant coming?”

  Figured her mother would fall for the man and his stupid dimple. And those deep green eyes, that sexy scruff on his face, his thick black hair…

  Riley sighed and stared at the menu in front of her, feeling tingly when Anson pressed his thigh against hers. She tried to subtly scoot closer to the wall and he followed.

  After giving him a side glare he ignored, she turned back to her menu. The waitress arrived to take their orders and brought coffee and water.

  “Thank God,” she muttered as she fixed her coffee. “Need. Java.”

  Her mother shook her head, her brown eyes dancing. “So funny to see my baby girl acting like she’s not a morning person. She’s usually so perky.”

  “My fault.” Anson, that jerk, wiggled his brows. “I kept her up.”

  Cheryl Hewitt’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

  Riley discreetly tried to kick him under the table, but Anson caught her leg and trapped it with his own. Then he tried to put an arm around her shoulders. In front of her mother, who looked as if she’d just won the lottery.

  “It’s not like that, Ma.”

  “Well, I did keep you up pretty late,” he admitted in a low rumble, sounding as if he’d just gotten out of bed.

  When she elbowed him in the side, he grunted and let her go. “Still feisty. You never change.”

  “Still an arrogant jacka—”

  “Riley Elizabeth Hewitt.” Her mother snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

  Anson chuckled. “It’s okay, Mrs. Hewitt. This is just Riley’s way of showing affection. Kind of like she used to do when we were in elementary school together, when she’d kick me in the shin for being too cute.”

  “Shut up,” Riley mumbled. Her face felt like it was about to explode from the sheer heat lighting up her cheeks. “What he meant, Ma, was that we—”

  “Were debating which needles to start with,” Anson cut in. “The circular knitting needles or the wooden ones. My grandmother is old school and swears by wood. But I don’t know. The ladies at the shop liked the metal circular one.”

  Her mother lit up and started gabbing about needles, yarn density and style choices. Riley did her best not to yawn. Anson really had kept her up late. His warmth bled into her, and though she should have told him to scoot over and give her some room, she didn’t want him to move.

  Their food arrived, and talk circled back to Anson’s business. Odd how interested her mother seemed to be in finance and business start-ups all of the sudden.

  “Don’t you just love the location?” Cheryl said. “I told Riley years ago that she needed to find a spot on Galveston. It doesn’t have a lot of parking, but there’s so much foot traffic. Her sales are just amazing.”

  “That’s because she’s the most talented pastry chef I know,” Anson said smoothly, yet he sounded sincere.

  She glanced at him, not sure how to take the look he was giving her. He seemed proud of her, which made little sense. Not like her success had anything to do with him.

  “Thanks.” She paused and took another bite of her Eggs Benedict. They made the best egg dishes here, in her opinion. “So when’s the grand opening?” She’d overheard Dex mention March a time or two. Not that she’d done much to openly express her interest in her annoying neighbor—who was much less annoying and much more attractive lately.

  Bah, done in by sex. I am so weak.

  “Actually, right after Valentine’s Day,” Anson said. “I’m having an open house next week though, Mrs. Hewitt. Would you like to come?”

  “Oh, how fun. Yes, count me in.”

  Funny, he hadn’t asked Riley to go. Stupid to feel hurt about it, considering she’d been after him to move since he arrived in Bend.

  “It’s the perfect tie-in to Valentine’s Day. The restaurant is small and intimate. An upscale place where you can romance your significant other. And since I’m doing that bachelor auction for the hospital, I’m hoping to tie-in some promo as well.”

  “Smart move.” Her mother obviously approved.

  He rubbed his foot against Riley’s, and she tried to ignore a tremor of arousal.

  “So will you be taking a date to this auction?” Riley asked. “Kind of defeats the purpose since you’re going to be sold off like a piece of meat.”

  Her mother choked on a sip of coffee and laughter. She cleared her throat. “Good point.”

  Anson cleaned his plate. Boy, the guy could eat. “Not to the auction, but I’m hoping to have a beautiful woman on my arm next week at my opening.”

  Riley waited for it, feeling better about things.

  Then the bastard asked her mother to go with him.

  “Would you come with me to the opening, Cheryl? You’re a respected member in the community. You know a ton of people. And you’re beautiful. I’d love it if you’d be my plus one.”

  Her mother flushed. “Oh my.” She seemed confused as she looked at Riley.

  “I would have asked Riley,” Anson explained, “but she’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t like me next door.”

  “I don’t think I ever said that.”

  He raised a brow. “Really?? I recall you telling me to get my rat-bastard ass back to Portland and to leave you alone too many times to count. That my restaurant was going to drive you out of business.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Oh, and then there were a few observations about my parentage, something about one of them being Satan in disguise.”

  “Riley. You didn’t.” Her mother sounded more amused than horrified, but Riley knew she’d be hearing about her rudeness later.

  “I did.” She glared at Anson, relishing the opportunity to tell on him to his mother. His non X-rated transgressions at least. “But I had just cause.”

  “You can’t think I’d ever do anything to hurt your business.” He sounded serious. “Riley, I respect the hell out of your bakery. You make the best desserts I’ve ever had. In fact, I was hoping to talk you into making us a few specialty desserts. We’d showcase your food in our menu.”

  “What a wonderful idea.” Her mother beamed. “You’re good, Anson.”

  “Thanks. I know.”

  Her mother laughed.

  Riley was so confused. “Hold on. You want to work with me now?”

  “I tol
d you that before.”

  “I thought you were pulling my leg.”

  “Excuse me?” He had that annoying lift to his left brow, the one he used whenever he talked down to her.

  “Look, we all know you came back to town to set up some super fancy restaurant. You just happened to pick the spot right next to me. Yeah, right.”

  “It is a terrific location.”

  Her mother nodded her agreement and accepted a refresh on her coffee from the passing waitress.

  Anson handed the girl Riley’s cup while she steamed next to him.

  “You want me to believe you really want to work with me?”

  He poured some creamer and stirred in a few packets of sugar, then pushed the cup toward her. “I never wanted to work against you. I think you were dealing with some past history and unfair prejudice against—”

  “You made up posters in eleventh grade about me. Called me Riley the Ruinator and said I would be the worst thing to happen to the student council since they removed the vending machines.”

  Her mother, she noticed, wasn’t working too hard to stifle her grin.

  Anson shrugged. “Hey, it worked. Besides, I let you take Valedictorian.”

  “Let me?”

  “Well, my work with the student council hampered my ability to focus on studies.”

  “Please. I ran track and took culinary classes while studying. You’re telling me you couldn’t multitask?”

  “Studies have shown that females are better at multitasking than males. Something to do with chemicals and the way the brain works.”

  Her mother stared at them in fascination.

  “Just to be clear,” Riley said, feeling silly for bringing up high school, “I’m not hanging on to high school resentments.”

  “Oh, sure. You’re over it. I can tell.” He snorted.

  “The truth is you’ve always been more arrogant than is healthy.”

  “Now that sounds familiar,” her mother muttered and downed her coffee.

  “Ma?”