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“Shouldn’t you be closing out the cash register and prepping for tonight’s baking instead of playing on your computer?”
“Playing?” Vivian made a show of tapping one crimson fingernail on her iPad, opened it to her website and flipped through a few more cake images. “The register is already closed out, so whatever you’re taking there will have to be paid with exact change.”
“Cute,” he said, closing the box. “Here,” he said, waving a piece of paper. “I brought you a special order. Desserts for the class-reunion welcome reception.”
Vivian looked at the order and congratulated herself for holding back a sigh. Booooring, she thought, running one long nail down the list.
Simple vanilla cookies. Plain frosted cupcakes. Six-dozen standard petit fours. Yawn, yawn, yawn. And one three-tier cake in the high school colors, complete with a sugar photo of the school mascot, a roaring panther.
“You know, I could make the entire cake in the image of the panther,” she suggested. “Dress him up just like the mascot, complete with a Pikes Peak High pennant.”
“Stick with the sugar photo.” He started writing up a list of what he’d boxed, then pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pick it all up on Sunday afternoon, save you the delivery.”
“Sunday? You’re only giving me three days warning? I have other orders, Mike. A Saturday wedding, four birthday cakes and a croquembouche for Mrs. Fiore’s daughter’s shower. With the parents gone, I’m the only baker here.”
“You can handle it. Bring in more counter help if you have to,” he said with a shrug, handing her a ten and four ones.
“What? You’re not helping? I have to make this entire boring, cookie-cutter order by myself?” She glanced over it again. There wasn’t a sparkle of edible glitter or even a shiny cherry anywhere to be found.
“Use your imagination,” Mike said, giving her an encouraging look. “Pretend it’s fun.”
Vivian knew there was no doubt they were related. The Harris genes bred too strong, with their flaxen hair—although Vivian’s was a shoulder-length sweep fashioned in the classic forties style. Their huge brown eyes—but Vivian made sure hers looked even larger with heavy black liner that accented her lush lashes. And their tall, broad-shouldered build—Vivian’s being a lot more feminine than her former-football-playing brother and complete with generous curves.
But she’d long ago accepted that they were only similar in looks.
“You’re in charge of the bakery, you figure it out. I’ll be busy celebrating having all my pals home.”
All his pals?
A thrill of delight shot through her.
“The Bennett brothers are coming home?”
“Yep, Xander and Zane should be here—” Mike looked at his watch and grinned “—within the hour.”
“Both of them?” At her brother’s scowl, Vivian made a show of sweeping her long blond bangs away from her face and giving him a wide-eyed look of concern. “Are you sure Little Creek can handle an invasion by the Bad Boy Bennetts?”
“Probably not,” Mike replied with a laugh. “Luckily they’re only here for ten days. Other than breaking a few hearts, I don’t think they can do much damage with so little time.”
“Last time they were only home a week and they got into a huge bar fight after you challenged them to see who could drink the most shots. They broke the table at the diner arm wrestling and, if rumor is correct, they were seen streaking down Main Street at three in the morning as part of some insane decathlon.” Oh, how she’d wept over missing that sight.
“Nah, the streaking was just a rumor. But the rest is true.” Mike’s grin widened. “I’m going to have to do some serious thinking if I’m going to top all of those challenges.”
Vivian had a few challenges she wouldn’t mind offering Zane. Talk about a dream worth living—if only for ten days.
Her fingers tapping a beat over the boring order form, Vivian gave herself a minute to delve into her favorite fantasy. The one that starred her and Zane Bennett covered in nothing but chocolate frosting and a few tempting dollops of whipped cream.
Maybe it was time to try out a few of those coaching lessons on something other than business. After all, if she could make a glistening penis-shaped cake worthy of oohs and aahs, how hard could it be to get her hands on Zane Bennett’s real one?
Vivian flashed a wicked smile.
Hopefully, once she got her hands on it it’d be very, very hard.
3 (#ua82d4c24-17fc-5be7-8565-9b894d7a545c)
WONDERING IF A person could go stir-crazy in less than eight hours, Zane parked his Harley in front of Myer’s Pub. Tugging off the helmet, he automatically checked the vicinity.
It looked pretty much like it had all his life.
The buildings, businesses and signs were the same. He recognized a number of the cars parked along the street, along with quite a few of the dozen people going about their business. The bakery across from the pub had a new striped awning, but that appeared to be about it for changes.
He’d spent the afternoon visiting family, and now he was ready to see friends. That ought to liven things up a little, Zane decided as he strode into the bar. One of the reasons he always opted to stay with his bud Lenny instead of at the family home was the freedom to enjoy whatever fun he found here at Myer’s.
He was ready for some fun.
He was also early.
No problem. He was sure he’d find plenty to entertain him until the old gang arrived. Lansky’s advice ringing in his ears, he scoped out the action. The bartender was familiar, but not in a did-I-do-her kind of way.
“Quinn? Quinn Oswald, right?” He recognized the slim brunette from high school. They hadn’t run in the same circles, but everyone who attended Pikes Peak High recognized their Princess. And clearly, the years were kind to royalty. With her dark hair waving around a pretty face, Quinn made a black tank and jeans look damned good. “I didn’t realize you’d moved back to town.”
“There’s no place like home,” Quinn quipped with a flash of a smile. “After all, where else does a girl have a chance to award both of the Bennett brothers the honor of being Pikes Peak High’s most valuable graduates?”
“You’re handing out the award, huh? Guess that’s one way to get us up on stage.”
“You don’t seem thrilled.”
Thrilled at the idea of getting up on stage to receive an award he didn’t want for classified work he did in a job he preferred no recognition for?
Obviously seeing the reluctance on his face, Quinn leaned across the bar to offer in a husky voice, “I’ll be presenting it in a very sexy little dress, if that helps.”
“I can’t think of much a sexy little dress doesn’t help,” Zane said, grinning as he leaned on the counter and gave her a once-over. “Are you handing out hugs and kisses with that award?”
“I could be,” she teased. Before she could say more, the other bartender, a hulking blond with a nearly invisible goatee harrumphed and gave her a get-back-to-work look.
Quinn rolled her eyes at the guy’s back, but did put the flirting away to give Zane a cheerful smile.
“In the meantime, what can I get you to drink?”
“Negra Modelo.” Looking around, he pointed toward the prime spot in the back next to the pool table. “Make it two. And a pitcher of Bud.”
“You’re that thirsty?” Then her big blue eyes widened. “Or is your brother joining you?”
“You look worried,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t be. I’ll keep him in line.”
“But who’s going to keep you in line?” she teased, handing him the first of the two beers to take with him.
“Why ask the impossible?” he shot back with a wink, tucking a five into the oversized glass mug next to the register.
Zane made his way to the table in a flurry of greetings, a few backslaps and one intriguing offer from a woman he remembered as having amazing flexibility. A scowling redhead walking out of the back room caught his attention as he slid into the chair facing the doors.
“Hey there, Dianne,” he greeted the bar owner, noting the older woman was looking as badass as ever with that narrow-eyed expression of warning. “How’s it going?”
“Well, well, if it isn’t one of the Bad Bennett Brothers,” she returned with sharp smile, casting a cautious look over the crowd. Scouting for troublemakers, he figured. “I heard you boys would be in town. I figured you’d hit my place.”
“Nowhere better to go for a good time.”
“Where’s Xander?”
“How do you know I’m not Xander?” he said with a wink.
“First, you’ve got that scruffy thing going on, and everyone knows that Zane hates to shave and does so as little as possible when he’s on leave.” She ticked one finger in the air. “Second, of the two of you, Xander’s the gentleman.”
He was? Zane arched one brow. What the hell did that make him?
“And third, of the two of you, Xander watches patiently while Zane always looks like he’s about to pounce.” Three fingers in the air, she paused to give him a wide-eyed smirk. “Well?”
“Well,” Zane said, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned the chair back to rest on the rear legs, “I think it’s safe to say that we’ve lost our mystique around these parts.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Dianne patted his shoulders. “There’s plenty of mystery left. Enough to intrigue any number of women in town. I’m sure there’ll be a long line of them thrilled to enjoy some of that mystery you spread around. Just don’t be starting fights in my bar.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured as she walked away.
Tipping back his beer, he pondered his lack of enthusiasm over spreading mystery. He liked—no, actually he loved—exchanging orgasms with all manner of single ladies. Tall ones, short ones, sassy ones, intense ones. His only hard-and-fast rule other than their being single was to keep the exchanges to one night—or in extreme circumstances, maybe an entire weekend.
But there was something about the idea of women lining up, just waiting. Where was the thrill in that?
He sucked down the rest of his beer, wishing it’d wash away the taste of dissatisfaction.
“Bennett!”
“Harris,” Zane greeted, shoving to his feet to wrap one arm around the other man’s shoulder and giving him a thump on the back. “Check you out. Mr. Big Shot bank manager, Little League coach and, what did I hear? You’re running for the city council?”
“You forgot head of the reunion committee,” Mike said, dimples flashing as he grinned. “Dude, you really should think about stepping it up and doing something for your community.”
“You really should think about kissing his butt,” injected Kyle Daley as he joined them. “Like a SEAL needs your advice on anything besides how to pick out a tie?”
“The only advice you have is how to look pretty,” Mike shot back as Zane greeted Kyle with the same back-thumping hello.
“Yo, Zane,” Joe Beck called out as he wove his way through the thickening crowd. “About time you came back to entertain us.”
“Where’s Xander?” Kyle asked, grabbing a chair with one hand, gesturing for a beer with the other.
“He’ll be here. What about Lenny?” Zane wondered, looking around for the last member of the group of guys he and Xander had run with since grade school. “I thought he was joining us.”
“He’ll be here. He got stuck working the afternoon shift at the gas station.”
“What happened to his job at the power plant?”
“Lost it.” Joe grimaced as he pulled up his own chair. “His old lady kicked him out, too. He’s renting that apartment over the bakery, trying to get back on his feet.”
“Over the bakery? I thought your sister lived up there.” Zane shot a look at Mike, whose parents owned the bakery.
“She does, but there are two apartments up there.” Mike shrugged. “This way Lenny’s got a place he can afford and Viv isn’t on her own.”
“Still playing overprotective big brother? Aren’t you worried about letting a dog like Len loose around your baby sister?”
The three men laughed, Mike’s sounding a little forced.
“Lenny’s scared of Vivian,” Kyle explained. Before he could elaborate, Zane’s brother sauntered into the pub. As the others called out greetings, Zane eyed his twin.
Yeah, he could see why Dianne claimed Xander was a gentleman. Nobody would mistake them for brothers, but while Xander looked just as capable of kicking serious ass, he was approachable. And approach they did, especially the women.
Relaxing now that his back was covered, Zane started on his second beer and prepared to have a good time. Life was always good when Xander was around.
An hour and two pitchers of beer later, the six of them had commandeered the pool table. Par for the course, the insults were flying right along with the laughter.
“Whew, I’d like to take her out,” Lenny said, watching a stacked blonde saunter past them toward the ladies’ room. “She’s turned me down four times, though. But she’s giving you the do-me look, Xander. You gonna go for it?”
Xander glanced over, noted the hot inspection the blonde was giving him and the invitation in her eyes, then turned back to the pool table.
“Nope. Zane went out with her a few years ago.”
“So?”
“Bennett brothers don’t share,” Joe reminded the others. “Remember? Any chick one of them does—dates, I mean,” he corrected at Xander’s arch look, “is on the other’s do-not-touch list.”
“Is that why the two of you live on opposite coasts? To keep the field clear for the other?”
“No. It’s so we can spread the joy of the Bennett brothers around. Our little favor to womankind,” Zane joked.
“Methinks it’s challenge time,” Kyle said, draining his fourth beer and reaching for the pitcher.
“Haven’t you grown up yet?” Xander asked, his attention on the table as he executed a wicked bank shot.
“C’mon, it’s tradition.”
“He’s got a point,” Kyle remarked from his position at the table, feet propped on an empty chair as he waited to play the winner. “We’ve been issuing challenges since second grade when Joe dared the two of you to jump off the dugout to see who could land closest to the pitcher’s mound.”
“Or Mike’s cookie challenge. The one where Xander beat you by eating four-dozen snickerdoodles.”
“Four dozen and two,” Xander corrected from the pool table. “Zane upchucked at forty-nine.”
“Drag racing on Old March Road.”
“Who could catch the most bass when we camped at Adobe Creek.”
“Who could get the most applause singing ‘Living on a Prayer’ in the cafeteria.”
