what the big deal
is though. A cake’s a cake.” But her gaze said she was talking about him.
The dismissal in her voice set his tiger to pacing in
agitation. He didn’t know what infuriated him more, that she didn’t see
anything special about him, or his cakes. People came from all over the country
to entice him to bake for them. Women fell over themselves to get his attention
even if they smelled as though they were scared when they had it. Was she
insinuating that any man would do? Or did she really mean she didn’t think his
cake was anything to write home about? Both thoughts agitated him, stirred up
his tiger and his pride until he was nearly crazed.
Zach forced himself to calm and studied her closely. There
was no way she meant it. She had to be downplaying her interest in him, and his
food, so her father didn’t have an aneurysm. Then she looked away with a yawn.
Zach had to remind himself—and his animal—that she was human. They were stupid
sometimes. Maybe she hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the swamp, didn’t
realize his peak physical condition, the size of his cock, the muscles that
would ensure he could protect and tend to her as needed. He had to fight the
urge to strip out of his “uniform” of chef’s coat and cargo pants to show her
now.
Instead, he waited until she glanced his way again and shot
her a look so heated and hungry her cheeks turned dark pink and her pretty,
kissable lips parted on a silent breath. There. That’s what he wanted to see.
The reminder that they’d shared a kiss so intense it’d left him with an
obsession over her mouth. The tiger was satisfied she finally recalled how good
they were together. The chef still wasn’t satisfied, but he began devising ways
to bring her around to his point of view.
As for her relatives? Her father and the uncles she was so
worried about, the ones who’d invaded Zach’s territory and thought to keep him
from doing what he wanted with her? They bristled at the look. Her daddy
reached for the bulge on his side with a muttered curse.
Things were just about to get very interesting.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. After a week of
working herself to the bone in an effort to fall asleep without having to
masturbate like a horny teenager, she was standing right where she’d sworn she
wouldn’t go. Colette had made a promise to herself after telling her daddy and
uncle an abbreviated story about her meeting with the tiger that she would have
nothing to do with him ever again. She’d even sworn to go on a diet, forgoing
her Trahan’s Bakery desserts as a way to cut off contact with him permanently.
It would kill her to stop having her treats shipped to her post office box, but
she’d do it if it meant staying off the radar.
But word had come to Bayou Ange about a shifter, a big,
arrogant bastard of a cat asking about the lone female Robicheaux. Everyone in
her family and extended family had gathered at her Papaw Blue’s house for a
discussion that had resulted in five fights, the consumption of a whole roasted
pig, several cases of beer and shouts of revolution. Thankfully Colette had
managed to wrestle the sniper rifle out of her grandfather’s hands and
prevented him from going on a big-game hunt.
Everything would have blown over if her mama hadn’t decided
she absolutely needed a cake from Trahan’s bakery. Colette had argued for a
solid twenty minutes with her mother about that damn cake, drowning in a miasma
of exasperation over her mom’s stubbornness and an intense need for the Trahan
Triple Decadence Chocolate cake. Feeling herself weaken with the envie to have that cake and eye Zach’s fine body, she’d promised to bake one for her
mom if she just let it go, forgetting for a moment that she was a complete
disaster in the kitchen. The silence that followed this stunning revelation was
when they both heard the unmistakable roar of her dad’s truck.
Her mom hadn’t even seemed surprised when
is though. A cake’s a cake.” But her gaze said she was talking about him.
The dismissal in her voice set his tiger to pacing in
agitation. He didn’t know what infuriated him more, that she didn’t see
anything special about him, or his cakes. People came from all over the country
to entice him to bake for them. Women fell over themselves to get his attention
even if they smelled as though they were scared when they had it. Was she
insinuating that any man would do? Or did she really mean she didn’t think his
cake was anything to write home about? Both thoughts agitated him, stirred up
his tiger and his pride until he was nearly crazed.
Zach forced himself to calm and studied her closely. There
was no way she meant it. She had to be downplaying her interest in him, and his
food, so her father didn’t have an aneurysm. Then she looked away with a yawn.
Zach had to remind himself—and his animal—that she was human. They were stupid
sometimes. Maybe she hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the swamp, didn’t
realize his peak physical condition, the size of his cock, the muscles that
would ensure he could protect and tend to her as needed. He had to fight the
urge to strip out of his “uniform” of chef’s coat and cargo pants to show her
now.
Instead, he waited until she glanced his way again and shot
her a look so heated and hungry her cheeks turned dark pink and her pretty,
kissable lips parted on a silent breath. There. That’s what he wanted to see.
The reminder that they’d shared a kiss so intense it’d left him with an
obsession over her mouth. The tiger was satisfied she finally recalled how good
they were together. The chef still wasn’t satisfied, but he began devising ways
to bring her around to his point of view.
As for her relatives? Her father and the uncles she was so
worried about, the ones who’d invaded Zach’s territory and thought to keep him
from doing what he wanted with her? They bristled at the look. Her daddy
reached for the bulge on his side with a muttered curse.
Things were just about to get very interesting.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. After a week of
working herself to the bone in an effort to fall asleep without having to
masturbate like a horny teenager, she was standing right where she’d sworn she
wouldn’t go. Colette had made a promise to herself after telling her daddy and
uncle an abbreviated story about her meeting with the tiger that she would have
nothing to do with him ever again. She’d even sworn to go on a diet, forgoing
her Trahan’s Bakery desserts as a way to cut off contact with him permanently.
It would kill her to stop having her treats shipped to her post office box, but
she’d do it if it meant staying off the radar.
But word had come to Bayou Ange about a shifter, a big,
arrogant bastard of a cat asking about the lone female Robicheaux. Everyone in
her family and extended family had gathered at her Papaw Blue’s house for a
discussion that had resulted in five fights, the consumption of a whole roasted
pig, several cases of beer and shouts of revolution. Thankfully Colette had
managed to wrestle the sniper rifle out of her grandfather’s hands and
prevented him from going on a big-game hunt.
Everything would have blown over if her mama hadn’t decided
she absolutely needed a cake from Trahan’s bakery. Colette had argued for a
solid twenty minutes with her mother about that damn cake, drowning in a miasma
of exasperation over her mom’s stubbornness and an intense need for the Trahan
Triple Decadence Chocolate cake. Feeling herself weaken with the envie to have that cake and eye Zach’s fine body, she’d promised to bake one for her
mom if she just let it go, forgetting for a moment that she was a complete
disaster in the kitchen. The silence that followed this stunning revelation was
when they both heard the unmistakable roar of her dad’s truck.
Her mom hadn’t even seemed surprised when
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