One night was supposed to ease her craving...

But after one taste she’s hooked!

Abby loves her new life working at Sydney’s finest patisserie. Working alongside brooding new man-in-charge Tanner is an unexpected but delicious challenge—especially as each night their attraction only grows hotter! But Tanner’s past is as dark as the ink on his skin... He’ll let her get closer than close in the bedroom, but does Abby dare go deeper?

“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”

—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author

NICOLA MARSH is a USA TODAY bestselling and multi-award-winning author who loves nothing better than losing herself in a story. A physiotherapist in a previous life, she now divides her time between raising two dashing heroes, whipping up delish meals, cheering on her footy team and writing—her dream job. And she chats on social media. A lot. Come say hi! Instagram, Twitter, Facebook—she’s there! Also find her at nicolamarsh.com.

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Sweet Thing

Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07112-3

SWEET THING

© 2018 Nicola Marsh

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Extract

CHAPTER ONE

Abby

D-DAY SHOULD’VE BEEN the happiest day of my life.

I’d envisaged a fabulous eight hours at Le Miel, creating the French pastries I’d grown to adore over the last year, followed by an intimate evening with a bottle of Shiraz and Channing Tatum.

What better way to celebrate a divorce than with a rich red to tantalise my palate and a hot guy strutting across my TV screen?

But my dreams of drooling into my wineglass over Channing turned to crap about an hour into the working day, when Remy King, the best boss in Australia, took a tumble off a ladder and ended up here, in Sydney Private Hospital.

‘You don’t need to stay,’ he said, his blue eyes filled with pain despite being dosed up on enough painkillers to fell an elephant. ‘Go back to the shop.’

‘Makayla has it covered.’ I perched delicately on the edge of his bed and reached for his hand. ‘Besides, I finished making the croissants, beignets, éclairs and macarons before you decided to do your lousy circus impression, so there’s not much left for her to do but serve.’

He managed a wan smile and winced. ‘It was the ladder’s fault.’

‘Yeah, it just happened to move sideways on that patch of flour on the floor all by itself.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘If you weren’t such a great boss and friend, I’d give you an ass-kicking for being so stupid.’

‘And if you weren’t the best apprentice I’ve ever had, I’d sack you on the spot for being so bold.’

I squeezed his hand, thanking God every day that this man had given me a chance when I needed it most.

Apparently leaving my cold, calculating husband after only nine months of marriage ‘wasn’t the done thing’ in the Prendigast family.

Not that my parents had cared why I’d done it. All they’d worried about was their precious reputation as one of the wealthiest families in Sydney, so they had cut me off financially and emotionally to teach me a lesson.

They’d expected me to come running back to their harbourside mansion in the first week.

I hadn’t been back in a year.

Yet for all their faults, I missed my folks. My friends too. But I’d left Abigail Prendigast, the perfect daughter in a perfect world who did exactly as she was told, behind that fateful day I’d walked out on my old life and into my new.

‘What’s wrong?’ Remy’s eyes narrowed, studying me. ‘If it’s the patisserie, don’t worry, you don’t have to handle the place on your own. I’ve already contacted Tanner, and he’ll be happy to help run the place while I’m recuperating.’

I stiffened. While I’d never met Remy’s younger brother, I’d heard enough to form an impression. And it wasn’t good.

The guy sounded like a flake. A rich flake, who ran nightclubs and bars along the eastern seaboard, made a squillion from them, but spent most of his time flitting overseas squandering his fortune on women.

Yet for some reason Remy seemed to adore him. I’d heard genuine emotion in his voice every time Tanner called from one of his far-flung destinations. Guess I had to give the guy credit for keeping in touch with his brother despite his playboy lifestyle.

I’d seen him once too, while Remy had been chatting to him on a teleconference call. It had been a fleeting glimpse of dark hair, dark eyes and stubble-covered jaw. Handsome if you liked that kind of thing. Me? I preferred uncomplicated, the opposite of Bardley, my ex, and the glower I’d seen on Tanner was enough to tell me he had complication all over him.

‘Isn’t Tanner overseas?’ I asked, sounding way calmer than I felt. I didn’t need some stranger who wouldn’t know a praline from a peach melba looking over my shoulder. I was confident in my work at Le Miel and didn’t need some rich-boy novice slowing me down. ‘Because I can handle the everyday running on my own.’

‘You can’t create and do everything else.’ Concern clouded his gaze before he blinked, and I wondered if I’d imagined it. ‘Tanner is a great businessman. He’s run restaurants. He’ll handle things at Le Miel for a month before I’m back on deck.’

‘A month?’ It came out a yell, and Remy chuckled.

‘That’s what the doc said. Apparently the more I keep off the fractured ankle and rest up the broken ribs, the faster it’ll all heal.’ He winked. ‘Who knew?’

Damn, I should’ve known he couldn’t use crutches to move around the shop when he had three broken ribs too. But when he’d said Tanner would be overseeing the daily operations, I’d envisaged a week, tops. Now I’d have to put up with the gypsy playboy for a month?

Feeling guilty for my selfishness when my friend was in pain, I squeezed his hand again. ‘You focus on healing fast. I’ll take care of the rest.’

‘Don’t you mean we?’

A deep voice came from behind me, the kind of voice that invoked images of dark bars, dark chocolate and dark souls. Deep. Rich. With an underlying hint of impudence that immediately put me on guard.

I turned and locked gazes with the devil himself.

Crap. Those eyes. A startling sienna, almost golden, the brown was so light. But it wasn’t the colour that unnerved me as much as the way they looked at me.

Like I was a tasty tarte tatin waiting to be devoured.

An involuntary shiver crept down my spine as that hungry stare zeroed in on my hand, where it lay covering Remy’s on the bed.

‘Isn’t this cosy?’ His insolent drawl made me bristle. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything?’

I snatched my hand away as Remy said, ‘Don’t be a dick. Tanner, this is Abby, my apprentice and the best damn French pastry chef outside of Paris.’

‘Next to you, of course, bro.’ Tanner’s assessing gaze focussed on me and damn if the parts of me that hadn’t experienced a guy’s touch in over a year didn’t zing. In a big way.

‘That goes without saying.’ Remy beamed, his affection obvious as he beckoned Tanner closer. ‘Thanks for doing this.’

‘My pleasure.’ As Tanner stepped forward, I stood and resisted the urge to scoot away.

As if those eyes weren’t enough, the closer he got I realised how big the guy was. Huge. At least six-three, with the kind of build honed from many hours in a gym. Or doing other forms of exercise.

Hell. Where had that come from? For the second time in less than a minute, I’d associated sex with him.

I really needed a bout between the sheets. If I could ever be bothered.

Being celibate since Bardley hadn’t been an issue. I’d been too busy assembling a life that didn’t involve society high teas, expensive dinners to woo clients and yachting on the weekends. All this squeezed around my business degree. Which I’d also walked away from. Bully for me.

‘Actually, your timing couldn’t be better.’ Tanner dwarfed everything in the room as he propped against the bed. ‘I’ve been looking for a new challenge.’

My skin prickled with awareness as Tanner’s daring stare alerted me to the fact he wasn’t just talking about Le Miel.

Either Remy was oblivious to the tension sizzling between Tanner and me, or the pain meds were really kicking in, because he waved us away.

‘Good. Then why don’t you two go get acquainted and leave me to wallow in agony?’

‘Your wish is my command, bro.’ Tanner leaned down to give Remy a gentle hug, an unexpected gesture that made me like him a little when I didn’t want to. ‘I’ll keep you posted. And don’t worry, the patisserie will be fine.’

‘Take care, Rem,’ I said, skirting the bed to the opposite side of Tanner, before bending down to place a kiss on his cheek. ‘Get well fast, okay?’

‘I will.’ Remy’s cheeky grin alerted me to the fact I wouldn’t like what he said next. ‘You’re in Tanner’s capable hands now.’

Heat surged to my cheeks as I imagined exactly what it would feel like to be in those hands, literally.

Then I made the mistake of glancing up to see Tanner hold up the hands in question, the corners of his mouth curved in a devastating smile. ‘Lucky you.’

Many words could be used to describe how I felt right at that very moment.

Lucky sure as hell wasn’t one of them.

CHAPTER TWO

Tanner

I HADN’T BEEN kidding when I told Remy I was up for a challenge. But the cool blonde with glacial blue eyes and an attitude to match wasn’t one of them.

A snowman could get frostbite next to that one.

From the first time she’d stared down her snooty nose at me, I had her pegged. Bored rich girl playing at baking goodies for a while. Probably like the ones she’d created in her state-of-the-art playroom kitchen as a kid, envisaging a prince charming with a mega bank account to come along and rescue her.

Yeah, women like her had the fairytale down pat.

Which begged the question: Why had she stuck around for a year?

Remy had given me the basics about his protégé during one of our phone calls about ten months ago. Said that one of his best customers had come into the patisserie one day, wild-eyed and dishevelled, begging for a job. It had been her dream to be a pastry chef apparently.

What a crock of shit.

I had no idea what game this Abby chick was playing, but the fact Remy had offered her the apartment over the patisserie while she got her life back together, and she was still there, meant I’d be keeping an eye on her and figuring out what her deal was.

Everybody had an angle. I’d learned that the hard way. So if the ice princess was taking advantage of my brother I’d kick her out on her sweet ass so fast she wouldn’t see it coming. And it was sweet. Very, from what I’d glimpsed when she’d bent over to kiss Remy.

It had been a touching gesture, indicating a depth of affection that could be construed as genuine, if I didn’t know better.

Women like her were masters at deception, and if her endgame was to fool my brother—maybe into giving her a piece of the action at Le Miel—she was in for a rude shock.

Remy had always been too kind-hearted; that was his problem. Probably one of the reasons Dad had tolerated him and despised me.

‘We should head back to the patisserie,’ Abby said as we exited the hospital. ‘Makayla, one of the staff, will be run off her feet.’

‘Not so fast, Sweet Thing.’ My hand shot out, touching the small of her back, and a shock akin to electricity sizzled up my arm. ‘We need to get acquainted first.’

She stared at me like I’d suggested we get naked to do it, and I grinned. The thought wasn’t totally unpalatable, considering how much fun it would be to rattle that impenetrable façade.

‘I meant let’s grab a coffee at that café down by the water, but if you had something else in mind I’m up for it.’ I threw in a wink, knowing it would rile her more than anything else I could say.

Predictably, she drew herself up to an impressive five-ten. Tall for a woman. I preferred them petite and pliable, not big and bristly.

‘Sweet thing isn’t my name,’ she said, chin tilted, haughty as hell.

‘Would you like it to be?’ I leaned in, expecting her to jump back like a startled cat.

When she held her ground and glared at me with those big blue eyes, an unusual azure similar to a glacier I’d seen in New Zealand once, I had to admire her a little.

‘Here’s the deal. I love my job and I respect your brother. He gave me a chance when no one else would, and I’m not going to screw this up over some big-mouthed Romeo who can’t keep it in his pants. Got it?’

She jabbed me in the chest with a finger. She actually jabbed me. And I admired her all the more for having the balls to stand up to my in-your-face innuendos to get a rise out of her.

‘So quit the bullshit flirting and let’s talk business.’

I couldn’t resist one more. ‘Dirty business?’

‘Jeez, you’re annoying,’ she muttered under her breath as she stomped away.

Okay, so maybe I’d pushed too far but getting her so wound up had its advantages. Namely giving me an unimpeded view of her ass.

My earlier assessment had been correct. It was sweet. Taut and rounded, highlighted to perfection in the tight black pants worn by staff at the patisserie.

The patisserie...

I’d promised Remy to ensure it ran smoothly in his absence, and I always kept my promises. I might be a prick who didn’t let anyone get too close but Remy was different. He was my blood. And I owed him.

Which meant I needed to play nice with little miss sweet cheeks.

‘Hey, wait up.’ I caught up to her in a few strides. ‘Look, you can blame my idiocy on jet lag, considering I only got in from LA late last night.’

She shot me an exasperated glance that indicated she hadn’t thawed in the slightest.

‘Let’s have that coffee, and I promise to behave.’ I held up my hands to show I had no tricks up my sleeves. ‘What do you say?’

She hesitated, gnawing her bottom lip, and damned if the innocuous action didn’t shoot straight to my cock. Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t screw everything that walked and it had been a few months since I’d been with a woman.

Time to rectify that if the ice princess got me horny with a simple lip-nibble.

‘Come on, Abby, I don’t bite.’ I refrained from adding, ‘only if you ask nicely’, because that wasn’t helping the hard-on situation.

After what seemed like an eternity, she managed a terse nod. ‘Fine.’

But it wasn’t. Because as we strolled the last fifty metres to the café I caught a whiff of her fragrance on the wind. An intoxicating blend of vanilla and coconut, and I wondered if she tasted as good as she smelt.

Shit. Remy would castrate me if I screwed around with his protégé. Not that I wanted to. Taunting was one thing, following through another.

But as another gust of wind blew blond strands of hair into her face and my fingers itched with the urge to brush them away, I knew working alongside Abby would be a long four weeks.

I’d craved a challenge.

Looked like I’d got one.

CHAPTER THREE

Abby

I DIDN’T HAVE time for this.

I should head back to Le Miel and make sure Makayla had everything under control.

Instead, I had to play nice with him.

‘This table suit?’ Tanner gestured to the only vacant table for two outside the café. A cosy table.

Swallowing my first retort of ‘hell no’, I nodded. ‘Let’s get this done so I can head back to the patisserie.’

‘Why the hurry to get rid of me?’ He pulled out my chair, a gentlemanly gesture at odds with the raw toughness that radiated off him. ‘I told you I’d behave.’

I managed a tight smile in thanks as I sat, well aware that Tanner’s version of ‘behaving’ and mine would be continents apart.

‘What’ll you have?’ He sat and pushed his shirtsleeves up, revealing heavily inked arms.

I didn’t like tattoos. Couldn’t fathom what drove a person to scar their skin like that. But as Tanner leaned his forearms on the table, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sheer artistic beauty that started above his wrists and wound its way up.

Elaborate vines. Stunning roses. Intricate motifs. Symbols I couldn’t decipher from this distance but wanted to get closer to.

I found myself inadvertently leaning forward before realising what I was doing, and when I glanced up Tanner grinned like he knew exactly how fascinating I found him.

‘See anything you like?’

‘No,’ I snapped, sounding uptight and prudish, the situation made worse by the wash of heat flushing my cheeks.

‘They extend a lot further than my arms,’ he said, his voice low and gravelly, the underlying hint of naughtiness making my thighs clench. ‘In case you were wondering.’

‘I don’t like tattoos,’ I said, making a mockery of my supercilious declaration when my gaze strayed to those forearms again.

Strong. Sinuous. Sexy.

Damn.

‘Many people don’t.’ He shrugged, like my opinion meant little. ‘They see tats and think bikers and drug lords. They don’t get the artistic angle at all.’

‘You like art?’

It was the safe thing to say, a conversation starter that would get us off the topic of his tattoos and his body. I hoped.

‘I like ink.’ He leaned back in his chair and interlocked his hands behind his head, a guy comfortable in his own skin.

Which he revealed more of as the hem of his shirt rode up and I got a tantalising glimpse of more ink on his lower belly. I couldn’t make out the design, but it looked suspiciously like a cutlass and a hook.

‘A pirate, seriously?’ The words popped out before I could stop them and while I was horrified I’d articulated my thoughts, he laughed so loud nearby patrons turned to stare.

‘Don’t look so shocked,’ he drawled, filling our glasses from the water bottle between us. ‘I like a good pillage like the next pirate.’

I compressed my lips before I blurted anything else. Like how I’d rather walk the plank than be pillaged by him.

Though that wasn’t entirely true, and after my disastrous marriage, I’d made a promise to myself to never lie again—especially to myself.

In less than thirty minutes, Tanner King had made me feel more alive than I had in years. He riled me. He taunted me. His cocky, laid-back attitude annoyed the crap out of me.

But I liked the buzz making my skin prickle and the weird hollow feeling deep in my belly. Like I was missing something. Like I craved something.

Much to my horror, I had to admit that he turned me on a little. A lot. Whatever.

Bastard.

‘Let me guess. You’re going to make some crude remark about what constitutes the pirate’s peg leg.’

He laughed again, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes endearingly cute. ‘You’re funny. I like that in a woman.’

The natural retort, that he’d like all women, hovered on the tip of my tongue but a waitress appeared and after she’d taken our orders—double shot espresso for him, soy latte for me—I was back to being scrutinised by his intense golden gaze and liking it too much.

I needed to get this meeting back on solid ground. Professional. Far from charming smiles and pirate peg legs.

‘Remy told me you’ve run restaurants?’

A shadow clouded his eyes for a moment, a hint of sadness, before he blinked and I wondered if I’d imagined it. ‘Yeah, but nightclubs are more my thing.’

I bet. I could imagine him prowling around a dim room like a panther stalking its prey at night. Senses on high alert. Watching. Waiting. Before pouncing on some poor unsuspecting female.

Though with the amount of testosterone radiating off his taut body, maybe I should amend that to lucky female.

‘I haven’t seen you around the patisserie?’

He’d been toying with the cutlery on the table and he stilled, like I’d taken a shot at him for not being around for his brother. ‘I’ve been working in London and LA. Helping friends set up similar nightclubs to the ones I run here.’

‘How altruistic.’ The sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it and I wasn’t surprised when he frowned at me. ‘Sorry, that sounded bitchy. It’s an important day for me and then Remy fell and I was so worried...about him and the patisserie and getting everything done...’

Great, now I sounded like a rambling loser. But to Tanner’s credit, he didn’t make a joke. In fact, he looked surprisingly serious, the first time I’d seen him like this in our brief acquaintance. I liked it. That he could lose the clown act when called for.

‘You won’t have to do it on your own, that’s why I’m here,’ he said, eyeballing me with curiosity. ‘As for my big brother, he’ll be fine.’

He paused, a glimmer of a frown slashing his brows. ‘So it’s an important day, huh? What’s the occasion? You getting hitched?’

I snorted and wrinkled my nose. ‘Been there. Done that. Tore the bouquet to pieces.’

‘You’re married?’

‘As of today, officially divorced.’ I made jazz hands. ‘Woop-de-freaking-do.’

‘Being divorced has gotta be better than being married,’ he said, making married sound like a dirty word.

‘It is when you’re married to a cold, heartless dweeb because it seemed the right thing to do at the time.’

Even now I could see that day so clearly. The rear garden of my parents’ harbourside mansion converted into a winter wonderland. Massive marquees. White chiffon draping everything. Fairy lights twinkling in the perfectly manicured trees. Five hundred of their closest acquaintances. And Bardley, waiting at the altar, staring at me with avarice, like he’d scored a prized portfolio.

I should’ve made a run for it then. But I’d been a people-pleaser to the end, and given up my soul in the process.

Never, ever, again.

‘I thought women viewed marriage as hearts and flowers and all that crap, not something to do because it’s right.’ He made cutesy inverted comma signs with his fingers. ‘Want to talk about it?’

His mouth eased into a sexy smile. ‘Tell Uncle Tanner all your dirty little secrets.’

If he only knew.

‘No dirt and it’s not a secret. Married at twenty-one to a guy I’d virtually grown up with. Family friends. Our folks pushed us together constantly so it seemed like a natural progression to get married.’

My chest tightened at the memory of what had happened after I’d said ‘I do’. Of how Bardley had morphed into a sadistic, controlling monster. ‘Moved into Vaucluse. Perfect house. Perfect life. Except it wasn’t so perfect...’

I trailed off, wondering why the hell I was revealing all this to a virtual stranger. Then again, maybe that was the attraction. I didn’t know Tanner and he knew jack about me. Today was a turning point for me. Proof that I’d walked away from my old life. I’d been counting down the days until I was officially divorced and who knew? Maybe once I’d purged all the crap I’d bottled up for so long I might be able to finally accept that the past didn’t control me any more.

‘Did the bastard hit you?’ Tanner growled, and I glanced up, surprised to see his hands clenched into fists. ‘I don’t care if you’re divorced. Tell me where to find the prick and I’ll beat him to a pulp.’

‘Whoa, he-man.’ I held up my hands. ‘Bardley was emotionally and verbally abusive, but he never laid a finger on me.’

‘That other shit’s just as bad,’ he muttered, his hands relaxing a little. ‘What kind of a dickhead name is Bardley, anyway?’

I smiled, his ferociousness as sexy as the rest of him.

‘“That other shit” is why I left him. It got to a point where I couldn’t take it any more...’ I shook my head, remembering the exact moment I’d taken control of my life.

He’d belittled me in front of his friends, forcing me to try water-skiing when he knew I was petrified of any water above bathtub level. I ended up spraining my wrist after taking a bad tumble the first time I tried to stand on the skis. It had been a suspected fracture. Bardley had mocked me. Been totally indifferent to my pain. Had called me names.

I’d packed with my one good hand that night and taken a cab to a motel. Spent a good hour emptying my bank accounts and maxing out my credit cards by paying a top lawyer most of his fee in advance.

I regretted being a fool. Being the kind of woman to put up with that treatment from anyone. Then again, I’d been doing it my entire life, so I guess my idiocy had been ingrained from birth.

‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Plan?’ I mimicked, coming back to the present, almost surprised to find myself sitting at a harbourside café on a glorious spring day with a seriously hot guy.

‘To celebrate your divorce.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You have got something in mind to celebrate, right?’

‘I’d envisaged leaving the patisserie early tonight to kick back with a spectacular red wine and Channing Tatum, but it looks like I’ll be stuck working ’til late, taking over Remy’s duties and prepping for tomorrow.’

He rolled his eyes, his upper lip curled in derision. ‘What is it with women and Channing Tatum?’

‘Hot bod. Chiselled jaw. And the guy has the moves. What’s not to like?’

‘He’s a fantasy.’ He sniggered, a decidedly wicked sound. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer a real man?’

I saw the challenge in Tanner’s unwavering stare. Taunting me. Encouraging me to say yes.

I knew what he was offering.

A night of debauchery.

A night to wipe away sour memories of my marriage.

A night to come alive.

But I had to work with this guy for the next four weeks. Remy was depending on me, and no way in hell would I screw up his faith in me by screwing his brother.

‘I’d prefer if we drank our coffees and got back to the patisserie,’ I said, exhaling in relief when the waitress appeared to place our order on the table.

‘Fair enough,’ he said, but he wasn’t done yet. The twinkle in his eyes alerted me to the fact that every second I had to spend with him over the next month would be pure, unadulterated torture. ‘But if you want to ditch the fantasy in favour of the real thing, you know where to find me.’

He picked up his small coffee cup and raised it in my direction. ‘Here’s to a good working relationship, real-life celebrations and finding the elusive peg leg.’

I choked on my first sip of latte and he laughed, a low, sexy chuckle that sent a jolt of longing through me.

Yeah, it was going to be a long four weeks.

CHAPTER FOUR

Tanner

I TOOK ONE step into Le Miel and wished I’d said hell no when Remy asked me to help him out.

There was a reason I avoided the patisserie. With its polished honey floorboards, sunlight spilling inside and the tempting aromas of warm yeast and sugar heavy in the air, it reminded me of home.

Of Mum.

I’d been ten when she died, twenty long years ago. My memories of her might have faded with time but I’d never forget standing next to her in the kitchen while she baked. Passing her cups of flour. Gently handling eggs. Having my own board to roll pastry on. Licking icing from my sticky fingers.

Our kitchen had been huge, almost industrial-sized. Mum had run a makeshift cupcake business from home but mostly she’d loved to cook. It was her passion, like she’d been my father’s, the Frenchwoman who’d stolen his heart on a gap-year trip to Paris.

Pity the romance hadn’t lasted.

From what Remy told me, Dad had taken one look at Claudette Allard and she’d become the number one woman in his life. They’d married in two months, had Remy a year later and I’d arrived five years later. And from what I’d overheard that fateful day Mum had died, everything had turned to shit about then.

Dad avoided the kitchen and even as a youngster I’d been glad. We were happier when he wasn’t around, me, Mum and Remy.

I’d loved those days when we’d all be in there together: Mum smacking my hand for sneaking a croissant before it had cooled. Remy helping me with a tricky letter on the icing. Me proudly presenting Mum with her favourite chocolate cupcake that I’d baked from scratch. Just the three of us, laughing and joking around. Happy. Together.

Until that day I’d heard my parents argue, the kind of argument that had imprinted on my brain no matter how many times, how many drinks and how many women I’d used to dislodge it. The day Mum had been so upset she’d rushed out of the house, got in her car and been killed in a crash, leaving us with Dad.

And my hell had begun.

‘You okay?’

I glanced down to see Abby’s hand lightly resting on my forearm, concern crinkling her brow.

Annoyed I’d let memories get to me, I shrugged off her touch. ‘Yeah. Let’s get started.’

She didn’t believe me. She had this way of staring at me with those deep blue eyes like she could see right through me. It was disconcerting.

No one saw the real me. Ever.

‘You’ve been here before, right?’

I nodded. ‘Not for a while though.’

She didn’t ask why but I could see her condemnation in the flattening of her lips.

‘I’ll show you Remy’s office as that’s where you’ll be working.’

So she didn’t know I could cook? Interesting. I could have a lot of fun showing Miss Prim and Proper exactly what I could do with a rolling pin.

‘Lead the way,’ I said, with a mock bow, biting back a laugh when she gritted her teeth.

This could be fun if I concentrated on baiting my cool co-worker rather than mentally rehashing maudlin memories.

The late-morning crowd had thinned to a few mums with toddlers and an older couple reading the newspaper. From the few times I’d been here over the years, I knew early mornings and lunchtimes were hectic. Remy would have hired staff accordingly but a sliver of worry niggled.

I ran successful nightclubs employing hundreds of people. I’d run restaurants up and down the eastern seaboard. So why the touch of anxiety that I could be in over my head with one patisserie?

Because this place was Remy’s pride and joy, and I knew it. I owed my brother a lot. He’d cheered me up when I’d been young and reeling from Dad’s subtle hatred, even if he’d been oblivious as to the reason behind my sulks. He’d shown me how to cook, how to play footy, how to be a man by using clever words rather than my fists when kids teased me at school for not having a mum. He’d raised me when the old man had the decency to curl up his toes when I was fifteen, never complaining at being saddled with a recalcitrant teen when most guys were partying at twenty.

Remy was my hero, always had been, and the only person I let get close. So I’d make damn sure that not only did the patisserie continue business as usual, but also that it flourished.

As we passed the gleaming stainless-steel counter, a young guy popped up from behind it, balancing a stack of trays. Abby smiled and the poor guy almost dropped the trays. I didn’t blame him. I hadn’t seen the ice princess smile much since we’d met but when she did...kapow. I felt it like a kick to the guts.

‘Shaun, I’d like you to meet Tanner King, Remy’s brother. He’ll be the boss around here ’til Remy’s back on his feet.’

I stuck out my hand. ‘Good to meet you.’

‘You too.’ Shaun placed the trays on the counter and shook my hand. Firmly. Earning him brownie points. ‘Abby texted me earlier to let me know he’s going to be okay. That’s good news.’

‘Sure is.’ The kid couldn’t have been more than eighteen yet for some reason the thought of Abby texting him about anything stung. Pathetic. ‘Have you been working here long?’

‘Two months,’ he said, shooting Abby a scared look, like he expected I’d fire him on the spot. ‘I’ve enrolled at a college to do pastry work, and I need the hours here as part of an apprenticeship.’

‘You’re in the right place.’ I tempered my tone so the kid wouldn’t look so damn frightened. ‘Remy’s the best.’

‘He sure is.’ A woman sauntered out from the corridor linking the shop to the kitchen.

If Abby was ice, this one was fire.

Flaming red hair, deep blue eyes and the body of a lithe goddess. She moved like a dancer, confidence and strength, like she knew her place in the world and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. A stunner. Yet I felt nothing but appreciation for her as a beautiful woman, whereas Abby turned me on with a tilt of her snooty nose.

Go figure.

‘Hi, I’m Makayla Tarrant, waitress extraordinaire.’ She held out her hand and I shook it, a little relieved when there was no zing. ‘Hope you’re ready to roll up your shirtsleeves and get to work. Remy doesn’t appreciate slackers around here.’

Abby appeared outraged, shoulders drawn back and icy glare back in full force, and I laughed, liking the other woman already.

‘You’ll be pleased to know I intend to work as hard as the rest of you while I’m here.’ I pushed up my sleeves for emphasis, liking when Abby’s gaze drifted to my forearms.

She’d been mesmerised when I’d done it earlier at the café, like she’d never seen ink before. A blush had appeared on her cheeks as she’d studied me, and I’d had the craziest impulse to strip off and show her exactly how much ink covered my body and where.

‘Good, then let’s get started.’ Abby cleared her throat, oddly brusque, and that blush was back.

Oh, yeah, showing her the rest of my tats could be fun.

‘Nice meeting you both,’ I said, with a wave at Makayla and Shaun.

Shaun shot me a nervous smile and Makayla nodded, her gaze assessing, like she couldn’t figure me out.

Join the long line, honey.

Abby strode down the corridor that led to the kitchen, and I followed, the aroma of sugar and cinnamon and buttery goodness getting stronger with every step.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

Sadness clogged my throat. Potent. Disorienting.

When she opened a door marked ‘Office’ off the corridor, I’d never been more grateful.

I couldn’t enter the kitchen right now, not when some strange nostalgia gripped me, making me yearn for a past I’d left behind a long time ago.

‘Remy’s very organised, so you’ll find everything documented in spreadsheets. Supply order forms. Current stock. Online orders. The works...’ She trailed off as I slammed the door, wishing I could do the same on the memories swamping me. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘Nothing,’ I growled, annoyed that she was so insightful. ‘Continue the induction.’

‘No.’ She folded her arms, her superiority annoying me as much as the relentless memories of how much I missed Mum. ‘For some reason, being here has you rattled, and I need to know why so we can fix it.’

‘Babe, you may be many things, a shrink isn’t one of them.’ I stalked towards her, covering the short distance between us. ‘I don’t need to be fixed.’

‘I—I didn’t mean it like that.’ She took a small step back as I invaded her personal space. ‘I want this place to run smoothly while Remy’s away and if there’s a problem I want it sorted now before it affects business.’

I admired her dedication to my brother. Not many employees would give a rat’s ass about their boss’s business. But no way in hell would I stand here and be analysed by her ladyship.

‘So that’s what’s all-important to you, is it? Business?’

A tiny dent appeared between her brows, as if she didn’t understand the question, before she nodded. ‘Of course. Remy gave me a chance when my life was down the toilet. I owe him. And I won’t have you breezing in here on the pretext of helping and screwing it up.’

My respect ratcheted up further. I didn’t like many people in this world let alone respect them, so I decided to wind her up a little to detract from the flood of uncharacteristic emotions swamping me the last few minutes.

‘If you’re all business, when do you have time for pleasure?’

Her lips parted in a surprised little O and I took it a step further.

‘You do know what pleasure is?’

I leaned in, close enough to smell the sweetness of vanilla in her hair, close enough to see her porcelain skin was one hundred percent natural and unadorned by make-up, close enough to kiss her if I was so inclined.

‘Back off,’ she said, her fighting words at odds with the soft, breathy way she uttered them.

‘Make me.’ I squared my shoulders, wondering when I’d last enjoyed sparring with a woman this much.

‘You’re such a...child,’ she muttered, and I laughed at how she must’ve watered down that insult.

‘And you’re all woman.’ I leaned against a filing cabinet, knowing she’d have to push past me to get out. ‘But a prickly one. Don’t you ever lighten up?’

Anger sparked in her eyes, flecks of vibrant emerald and sizzling sapphire among the blue. ‘I haven’t got time to lighten up. I work ten-hour days here, five days a week, while attending classes one day a week to complete my apprenticeship. On Sunday, my one day off, I do extensive research to update my blog so that people will know who the hell I am if I eventually save up enough to open my own place one day.’

Her chest heaved with indignation as she tried to shove past me. ‘So why don’t you lighten the hell up and give me a freaking break?’

I should’ve felt bad for pushing her to this point. I didn’t. Because if her icy façade had turned me on, it had nothing on this outraged, furious woman.

She was spectacular.

So I calmed her down the only way I knew how.

I hauled her against me and kissed her.

I caught her off guard, her gasp of surprise all I needed to invade her mouth, my tongue taunting hers as much as my words.

I’d expected her to retreat. To possibly bite me. I didn’t expect the low moan that emanated from the back of her throat, like a primitive growl that reverberated all the way down to my soul. Or the way she pushed against me, so hard my back slammed against the filing cabinet.

The ice princess liked it rough and ready. Who knew?

I ravaged her mouth, palming her breast and tweaking a nipple as she writhed against me. Hot. Wanton. Abandoned.

If she didn’t stop, I wouldn’t be able to and, as much as I’d like to, screwing her on Remy’s desk my first day here wasn’t part of the plan.

Remy.

With an anguished groan I wrenched my mouth from hers, stunned I’d let it get this far.

What was it about this woman that made me forget boundaries let alone my own name?

‘I need to get to work.’ I pushed past her like nothing had happened and took a seat behind the desk, adjusting myself as I did so and wishing my brother had the smarts to install a shower at his workplace.

I’d never needed a cold shower so frigging badly.

Abby stared at me in open-mouthed disbelief. I knew the feeling. I couldn’t believe we’d just done that either.

‘I—you—shit,’ she muttered, shaking her head as I tried not to notice her reddened lips and her flushed cheeks, blond tendrils sticking out all over the place.

She looked like we’d done a lot more than kiss, and my cock throbbed again.

‘Don’t expect me to apologise for that,’ I said, waving her away in a cruel dismissal, like the kiss meant nothing.

When in fact I needed her to leave ASAP so I wouldn’t be tempted for a repeat. Next time, I might not be able to stop.

‘I don’t expect anything from you.’ The haughtiness was back as she tilted her chin and stared down her nose at me. ‘Not a single bloody thing.’

She slammed the door on her way out.

I didn’t blame her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Abby

IF THERE WERE awards handed out to people for the art of pretending, I’d have an entire shelf full. A room full. An entire house full. I’d be in the academy’s hall of freaking fame.

I’d done it my whole life. Pretending I liked the handcrafted silver jewellery box for my seventh birthday when I’d wanted a backyard cricket set. Pretending I liked having a fully catered disco party for my thirteenth birthday when I’d wanted to have fish and chips on the beach with my only friend. Pretending I didn’t mind having a lavish society wedding when I would’ve been happy swapping vows at the register office.

Yeah, I was an expert at pretence. A goddamn queen. Which was how I managed to get through the rest of the day, creating brioche and baguettes and pains au chocolat, like that kiss had never happened.

That kiss.

Six hours later, it still haunted me.

Powerful and commanding and so damned passionate I got damp just thinking about it.

I’d never, ever, been kissed like that.

Like stepping into a raging inferno, consumed by heat from the inside out and not giving a damn.

I’d lost it. The moment his mouth covered mine I hadn’t been able to think. Hadn’t wanted to, if I was completely honest. Because kissing Tanner King put a full stop on my old life and kickstarted my new.

I’d wanted to celebrate with Channing tonight. Instead, I’d got a brief taste of Tanner and I wasn’t disappointed. Angry at myself for letting it happen. Confused why he’d done it. And seriously peed off. But never disappointed.

God, the man could kiss.

If I was the queen of pretending, he was the master of manipulating lips.

My hand drifted upward to my mouth and a fingertip traced my bottom lip. I could swear it still tingled from the way he’d devoured me.

‘All locked up, Abs.’

I jumped and spun around, hoping Makayla hadn’t seen me. ‘Thanks.’

She grinned and pointed to the small table set up in the kitchen where staff took their meal breaks. ‘Why don’t you sit and tell me all about the dishy Tanner while I fix us a hot chocolate?’

‘Nothing to tell,’ I said, far too quickly, and Makayla raised a knowing brow.

‘You’ve been avoiding the office all afternoon and blushing at random times for no reason so I beg to differ, my friend.’ Makayla tittered as she performed a little pirouette, something she did often, as if to keep her dance training at the forefront of her mind. ‘Plus I just saw you staring into space and touching your lip, so I’m guessing you’re fantasising about Hot Stuff kissing you.’

‘You’re too damn perceptive for your own good,’ I muttered, but took a seat at the table anyway. ‘Make mine a double.’

‘Two giant marshmallows coming up,’ she said, busying herself at the stove. ‘Have to say, it’s nice to see you lust over a guy. In the three months I’ve been here, you haven’t mentioned anyone let alone been out on a date.’

Was I that pathetic? Considering I’d avoided men for the last twelve months since Bardley the Bastard, probably.

‘Who said I’m lusting over Tanner?’

Makayla beamed as she poured hot chocolate into two mugs. ‘Sweetie, it’s all over your face.’

‘Am I that easy to read?’

‘I’m good at reading people.’ Makayla plopped two marshmallows in each mug and headed for the table. ‘Got a ton of experience at an old job.’

Sadness downturned her mouth for a moment, like it had been a less than pleasant experience, before her signature smile was back and she visibly brightened. Makayla spent all her spare time attending dance auditions and had worked in a few theatre productions. Maybe she needed to get a read on the competition?

‘It’s probably my self-imposed year-long drought—’

‘You haven’t been with a guy in a year?’ Makayla squealed and mimicked a faint as I rolled my eyes.

‘Yeah, I’m that much of a sad case.’

It wasn’t until that moment I realised I was. Sad. My marriage might have been bland at best, but I missed the intimacy of having someone to debrief with at the end of a day. Of having a male perspective on life. Of being with a guy, even if the sex had been as lacklustre as the marriage.

Maybe that was why I’d enjoyed Tanner’s kiss so much?

Yeah, and downplaying it would make me forget it in a hurry. Not.

‘You need to get out more,’ Makayla declared, her forehead crinkled in thought. ‘A night out on the town. You and me. Drinks. Dancing. Deviously scoping out hot guys.’

‘Nightclubs aren’t really my thing—’

‘Bull.’ Makayla waggled her finger at me. ‘I’m not taking no for an answer. If you’re lusting over our new boss on the first day, you need to get laid.’

‘I’m not a guy—’

‘Girls have needs too, and after a year? Sweetie, you must be pretty damn needy.’

I laughed as Makayla wiggled her eyebrows.

‘There’s this fabulous club, the hottest dance venue in Sydney, called Embue. We’re going. Tomorrow night.’ She did another jig. ‘So get your dancing shoes on, baby, because I’m not taking no for an answer.’

I’d seen Makayla like this before, when she’d railroaded me last month into buying an exquisite rose silk scarf I couldn’t afford at The Rocks market. And before that, when she’d insisted I attend an art gallery opening that featured the weirdest nude paintings.

She wouldn’t give up until I said yes, so I sighed. ‘What kind of a weird name is Embue?’

‘It means steamy in French.’ Makayla winked and fanned her face. ‘Don’t you want to get all steamed up over some guy?’

I already was and that was the problem. Because heading out to some dark, dingy nightclub to scope out men wouldn’t make me forget Tanner and the potency of his kiss.

I’d need to meet Channing or his equivalent for that to happen and the odds were a billion to one of any guy remotely coming close to my screen idol.

But I had a feeling Makayla wouldn’t let up. She’d asked me out to go clubbing several times since she’d started working here and we’d become friends, and I’d fobbed her off with excuses of homework.

With school holidays coming up and the universities winding down, she wouldn’t buy that excuse this time.

I gave a resigned shrug. ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’

Makayla clapped her hands, excitement making her eyes glitter. ‘Two babes out to shake things up. Can’t wait.’

I could, but I needed something—maybe even someone—to distract me from this insane attraction to Tanner.

A night out could be just the thing I needed.

CHAPTER SIX

Tanner

I HAD TO hand it to my brother. He sure knew how to run a business. Le Miel turned a handy profit and had the potential to expand if the boutique next door ever accepted his generous offer to buy them out.

I’d studied the spreadsheets yesterday and today, and couldn’t find a single weak spot.

Unlike me, who’d discovered a major one: for prim, snooty women who kissed like a frigging dream.

Even now, a day and a half later, I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head. Which was plain crazy, considering the number of women I’d kissed over the years. I hadn’t been in double figures for a long while so why did Abby, with those weird azure blue eyes and her cool façade, get to me so damn bad?

So I’d done what had to be done. Avoided her. Snuck out yesterday while she’d been in the kitchen with Makayla, and locked myself away in the office all day today.

We’d exchanged civil greetings this morning, that was it. Suited me fine. I didn’t have time to be some society girl’s plaything. Her walk on the wild side to celebrate her divorce.

Not that I wasn’t interested. Sex with Abby had the potential to be phenomenal. Women coming out of a shitty marriage could go off like firecrackers.

But Remy would bust my balls if I inadvertently hurt her and she quit out of some misguided notion that any future chance meetings between us would be uncomfortable.

It had happened before, when I’d been young and dumb; had opened my first club and slept with my accountant. She’d been looking for more than a good time, despite her reassurances before things started up. When it soured she left and I’d lost the best damn accountant in the business.

No, I wouldn’t be responsible for screwing this up for Remy, not when he’d spoken so highly of Abby when I’d called him last night and first thing this morning.

I’d keep my distance. Maybe even apologise for that kiss. Remy’s business had steadily increased over the last year and, considering he recorded Abby’s progress as part of her apprenticeship, looked like his protégé had been a big part of that.

Le Miel and Remy couldn’t afford to lose Abby.

Which meant I had to keep the snake in its cage.

I glanced at the clock. After seven, when I needed to start my own work at nine. No time for a workout to ease the kinks out of my back. Sitting at a desk for twelve hours straight was for fools.

Pressing the tips of my fingers to my eyes, I did a few yoga breaths while rolling my shoulders. I heard the door open and when I opened my eyes, Abby stood in front of me, with a steaming espresso and an almond croissant.

‘You’ve been working hard all day and haven’t been out, so I thought you might like a snack?’

‘You’re an angel,’ I said, meaning it, as the pungent Brazilian brew hit my nose and I inhaled greedily. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’

A faint blush stained her cheeks, as if she wasn’t used to praise, and damned if I wasn’t catapulted straight back to yesterday morning when I’d kissed her.

Her blush had been deeper then, the blue of her eyes so damn crystal clear I could’ve drowned in them.

My cock hardened in agreement and I inwardly cursed. Remember Remy and Le Miel and a flourishing bottom line?

Down, boy.

She handed me the coffee and placed the plate on the desk. ‘At the risk of sounding like a nag, you shouldn’t lock yourself away in here all day and not eat.’

‘Who said I don’t have a secret stash of energy bars in the top drawer?’

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Do you?’

‘Nah, but if it stops you nagging, I’ll say it.’

She smiled and it softened her features from pretty to breathtaking. ‘I’m heading out soon so are you okay to lock up?’

‘Sure, go head.’ I tapped my temple. ‘The alarm combo is stashed away up here.’

The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘Not sure how you can remember any new numbers when you must have a phone book’s worth stored up there already.’

I laughed, enjoying this softer side of her. ‘Did you just make fun of my little black book?’

She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. ‘A little.’

Surprised by her lighthearted sparring when I’d expected her to be gauche and standoffish after that kiss, I feigned indignation. ‘I’ll have you know my mental capacity is much less than you give me credit for, so I keep the thousands of women’s phone numbers stored in my cell.’

‘Little wonder you have such a big one—’ Her lips clamped shut and her eyes widened in horror at her gaff.

‘We are talking about my cell, right? Or are you still obsessing over my peg leg?’

The blush returned, deepening her cheeks to a rosy pink. ‘It’s been a long day. I really should go.’

‘And I really should let you.’

But neither of us moved, our gazes locked in some invisible battle of wills while electricity sparked between us.

I had to do something to break this tenuous hold she had on me before I did something monumentally stupid, like kiss her again. And not stop at a kiss this time.

‘I’m sorry for kissing you yesterday,’ I blurted, not sorry at all. ‘It was out of line. Blame it on my jet lag, concern over Remy and your unfailing knack of goading me.’

‘Glad to know it wasn’t my womanly charms,’ she said, her dry response tempered with a smile. ‘Honestly? Don’t worry about it. Forgotten, just like that.’

She snapped her fingers and damned if my ego didn’t take a hit.

Forgotten? That made one of us.

‘Anyway, got to go. Makayla’s taking me clubbing.’ She made it sound like her friend was dragging her for a root canal. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, see you.’ I watched her walk out the door, my gaze riveted to her ass.

She worked those black pants like nothing else and I scowled, snatching up the croissant and jamming it into my mouth.

The buttery goodness melted on my tongue and I wondered if its creator would taste as good.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Abby

I’D ENVISAGED EMBUE being a one-room dive with mirrored walls, strobing lights and ear-splitting techno.

Thankfully, I was wrong.

‘Isn’t this place the coolest?’ Makayla clung to my arm and did a little jive on the spot. ‘I’ve heard rave reviews about it but this surpasses my expectations by a mile.’

Mine too. Everything about the nightclub screamed class, from the polished floorboards and soaring ceilings to the chandelier hanging over the DJ’s console, placed smack-bang in the middle of the dance floor.

The dance floor circled the DJ like a giant shimmering oil slick, with golden velvet lounges in booths surrounding it. Cream and gold were everywhere, from the chiffon-covered walls to the coasters.

The entire effect was upscale elegance rather than downtown disco.

I loved it.

As for the music, I actually recognised the song, an upbeat nineties number that made me sway a little.

I elbowed Makayla. ‘Should I make a confession now that I’ve never been to a nightclub?’

Makayla gripped my arm tighter and swung me around to face her. ‘What the... I could’ve sworn you just said you’d never been to a nightclub?’

I held up my free hand. ‘The truth and nothing but the truth.’

‘What are you, a nun?’ She released my arm, only to slug it. ‘Girlfriend, either you’ve been in a cult or kidnapped by a madman who kept you locked up, because everyone on the planet has been to a nightclub at some point in their lives.’

Being part of the perfect Prendigasts had been like living in a cult, before being virtually kidnapped by Bardley and living in a prison of my own making.

‘I got married at twenty-one.’

Makayla shook her head, a riot of glossy red curls tumbling over her bare shoulders dusted in glitter. ‘But didn’t you ever sneak into a nightclub underage? Go out with your friends from school?’

‘I went to an all-girls private school and no, we didn’t sneak out.’

We didn’t do much of anything bar go on expensive shopping trips and have mani-pedis in the private comfort of our mansions. Not that I could call any of the girls I’d hung out with as friends. They’d been the bitchiest group I’d ever encountered, clones of their mothers whose only ambition was to find a rich, upper-class guy and marry him.

All they’d ever talked about was who had the latest designer bag, who had the most expensive car sitting in the garage for when they turned eighteen and which guys from the elite boys’ schools were the best to shag.

How I’d longed to be part of those groups of girls who hung around together at the local shops, swapping frozen yoghurts and gossip while they waited for the school bus instead of Daddy’s chauffeur.

Those girls had looked genuinely happy, despite their ripped blazers and holey jumpers. My folks had taught me from a young age that money could buy anything. They’d been wrong. I couldn’t buy happiness, the kind I’d seen on those girls’ faces.

‘Sweetie, you need to start living.’ Makayla gave me a gentle nudge towards the dance floor. ‘Starting now.’

I wanted to let loose but I caught sight of myself in a floor-to-ceiling-length mirror and baulked.

Whereas Makayla fit in here with her dramatic make-up, sexily mussed hair, towering stilettos and a strapless figure-hugging purple mini, I looked like a grandma with my blow-dried hair, clear lip gloss and mascara, moderate heels and a staple sleeveless LBD that ended at my knees.

Who knew little black dresses had gone out of fashion around the same time I’d gone out of circulation?

‘You’re dancing. Now.’ Makayla shoved me again and this time I let myself be propelled onto the dance floor, joining the throngs of writhing bodies moving in time to an old pop song about spinning around.

I liked music and always had the latest stuff on a playlist while I baked. But bopping around a kitchen and moving my body in front of a bunch of strangers were worlds apart.

Thankfully, nobody gave a flying fig as I started to shuffle my feet. Allowed my shoulders to relax and my hips to sway to the music.

‘There you go. You’re dancing and the ceiling hasn’t caved in.’ Makayla put her hand over her mouth in mock horror. ‘Wow, you may even start having fun.’

‘Bite me,’ I yelled above the music, moving my body faster and adding a shimmy for good measure.

Makayla laughed and flung her arms in the air, her body sensual and sinuous as she executed moves I could never dream of pulling off.

After the first song, I lost track of how many we danced to. Daggy songs from the eighties mingled with the latest techno beats as I danced my ass off. Wiggling my hips. Shimmying my shoulders. Not caring that I jiggled in places I hadn’t jiggled in a long time.

I enjoyed it. Until an old boyfriend of Makayla’s slunk up to us and I quickly realised that three was a crowd.

I tapped her on the arm and gestured towards the bar. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’

‘You don’t have to go.’ Makayla’s gaze swung between the guy and me and I could tell she was torn.

‘Seriously, I’m zonked anyway. I’ll just have a drink, then take a taxi home.’

‘You sure?’

I nodded. ‘Absolutely.’ I leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. ‘Go have fun.’

Still Makayla wavered. ‘But tonight was supposed to be about you and finding some hot guy to end your drought.’

‘Another time,’ I said, giving her a gentle nudge in the direction of the guy waiting patiently for us to finish our conversation. ‘Go. Be naughty enough for the both of us.’

A wicked gleam lit her eyes. ‘I think I can manage that.’

I laughed and headed off the dance floor. I’d barely made it onto the polished boards before the guy had swept Makayla into his arms and they were doing some weird ritualistic dance that almost looked obscene.

Makayla was a lovely girl, I liked her a lot, and for one fleeting moment I wished I had half the va-va-voom factor she did.

With a sigh, I turned.

And ran smack-bang into Tanner.

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