17. Declan
DECLAN
I checked my phone as soon as I got inside the house. My assistant had emailed me the papers.
“Liz, I want to look over this stuff first.”
“Sure. I’ll wait,” she said.
I went over to the couch to sit down. Opening the attachment, I read every word carefully.
The fucking moron. He was suing me for defamation.
As proof, he claimed to have copies of emails from the Halsey Group where they stated that after conversations with me, they decided not to continue employing him.
That was a weak argument, and any lawyer worth his salt knew it, including a sleazeball like Gregory Ashburn.
“Any chance you want to share what’s happening? I’m dying of anxiety over here,” Liz said. She was leaning against the kitchen island, biting her nails.
Dropping the phone on the couch, I went to her.
“The good news is he’s only suing me.”
Liz cocked a brow. “I fail to see the good part.”
“Luke was the one who introduced me to the Halsey Group. I’m glad he was left out, and that he’s not going after Reese. He’s only after me.”
“Right. And that’s… good. You’re the weirdest person I know.” She rolled her eyes.
I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking hard. I didn’t want to burden her with my issues. “Let’s change the subject. Show me your lease contract. I can look over it right now.”
“Umm, no you won’t. I have until tomorrow, and you’re too worked up. I want you to relax. Mom always said there’s no problem that can’t wait until you’ve baked a tray of goodies.”
I threw my head back, laughing. “I don’t think it applies to me.”
“I’m serious. Stepping aside from the problem can give you perspective.”
I looked at this strange, lovely creature in my kitchen, all intent on taking my mind off everything. It troubled me that Malcolm had served me papers with a bogus accusation. It meant a lot of hassle. But I’d assumed as much when he hired Ashburn. Still, I didn’t like this one bit.
No one was going to hurt my family. I was undecided whether to tell Reese about this—I’d never even told her that I’d spoken to the Halsey Group—but past experience proved to me that keeping secrets wasn’t the best idea.
Usually, something like this would put me straight into work mode, and I’d immediately draft a response. But right now, spending the afternoon with Liz sounded much better. I could enjoy my woman now and deal with this moron once she left for her shift.
She’d taken a huge step forward toward opening her bakery, and it warranted celebration. I was determined to push everything else to the back of my mind and focus on her.
"Now, we’re baking. I need very precise instructions," I said as we rounded the counter.
"Yeah, but first things first. This suit is too expensive to go anywhere near the kitchen."
I burst out laughing. "You're trying to get me naked?"
"Not my intention. But if it's a side effect, you won't hear me complaining," she said with a wry grin.
"You seriously want me to stand in the kitchen naked?"
"I didn’t say anything about that. Just that this suit isn’t suitable. Pun intended."
I took off my jacket.
"Yeah, neither is the shirt. It's too white and too damn sexy."
"And you're still not trying to get me naked?" I verified.
"No."
I watched her intently while I took off one cuff link and then the other.
“Damn, I already want to jump you. But I won’t do any such thing. I have a mission for today. We’re baking, and you’ll forget about all your troubles.”
“Are you gonna make me take my pants off too, Liz?” I asked lazily.
"You can leave the pants on. I'm going to go out on a limb and say you won't mess those up.” She looked at me for a moment, then seemed to remember what we were doing. I smirked at her, and she blushed. “So, here are the ingredients. We’ll mix eggs, butter, and water in one bowl and the sugar, flour, and cocoa in another. If you give me a sheet of paper, I’ll tell you the exact measurements. "
"What are we making?" I asked.
"Brownies. Sorry, do you like them? It didn't occur to me to ask. They're easy to make. That's why I chose them."
"I like brownies. And I like spending time with you."
She tipped her head back and sighed. “Hey, why are you making me melt? I was supposed to do that to you. I want you to focus completely on me and nothing else.”
I stepped closer, trapping her between my body and the counter, then drew my nose up and down her neck, lingering at the nape and inhaling her delicious scent. I’d learned it was one of her sweet spots.
“You’ve got me, Liz.”
“I do?”
“Fuck yes. When I’m with you, there’s no space for anything else in my mind. Just you. Only you.”
Her breath caught. I brushed my thumb along her jaw, kissing her neck before taking a step back.
She cleared her throat. “I need pen and paper.”
“I’ll get you some.”
I grabbed the stack I kept in the TV console and handed it to her as she took out the scale from the basket she’d brought with her. Then she started writing on the paper.
I stood behind her, kissing her shoulders, then pushed her hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck too.
"Hmm, I don't see ‘kissing Liz’ anywhere in the instructions," she murmured.
"Then I'll add it to the list. A kiss for every single step," I said against her skin.
"That means we’re never going to be ready."
"I have no problem with that."
She kept her composure for a while, until I kissed the back of her neck using my tongue too. She pressed her thighs together, gasping before straightening up.
"All right, let's start measuring." She was adorable, trying to stick to her baking plan. I was totally into this woman.
"Why don't you do the first step, and I'll watch you. The best teachers lead by example."
"I'm going to measure cocoa.” She picked up the cup, filling it with cocoa.
“Want to measure it with a scale?” I asked. “Just to be sure.”
“Nah, this is enough.”
I was standing behind her, feathering my fingers up and down her arms. She shuddered at my touch. Suddenly, I was enjoying this baking thing.
"Thanks for coming today, Declan. It meant a lot to me to have you there, to be part of my decision."
"Anytime, Liz. I mean it. Whenever you need someone for anything, call me. I’m here for you—I always will be."
"For anything?" The question in her eyes haunted me. Liz needed to know she was mine, and I needed to make sure she understood that.
"Yes. Now, how do you want to celebrate that you’ve found your store space?"
“Oh, no, no. No celebrating until I sign the contract. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“You’re not. I’m bringing you luck.” I slipped my hands down her ass cheeks, squeezing them slightly and enjoying their taut feel.
“You’re declaring yourself my lucky charm?” Her face lit up.
“Hell yes, I am.”
“Hmm… I’ll consider it. Now, are we baking or what?”
“Hey, you’re the slacker, teacher, ” I said, giving her one more squeeze.
“Stop that.” She burst out laughing, lowering the hand holding the cup of flour. She turned to look at me at the same time and accidentally pushed the bag of flour to the floor. It exploded all around us, sending a white cloud in the air.
I coughed and heard her do the same as I took a step back. Liz tried to wipe her face and inhaled deeply, breathing in a mouthful of flour. She stepped back from the cloud too, coughing again.
A few seconds later, my own coughing turned to laughter. She grabbed a glass, filling it with ice and water from the refrigerator dispenser.
"Some teacher you are," I said, and that made her laugh too.
"Hey, you had your hands all over me, and you were saying things that went straight to my heart without a warning. I can be forgiven for a small mishap."
"This is small?" I asked. Teasing her was so fun. I couldn’t care less about the mess we’d made. I just wanted her.
"Oh my God, your pants! Damn it, I knew I should have told you to strip down."
"Babe, it's flour. Nothing will happen. But I do think it's high time for both of us to get naked and into the shower."
"Oh yeah, definitely," she said.
"Let's go to the upstairs bathroom."
"Yeah. But let's take our clothes off here. We don't want to make the whole house messy."
We started to undress right away. At least, I did. She watched me take off my pants. Straightening up, I cocked a brow at her. Smiling saucily, she took off her own pants as well as her shirt.
"The rest comes off upstairs," she said with sass.
"You bet it will." I walked toward her with determined strides. Without warning, I lifted her into my arms, putting a hand under her knees, the other at her back. She balanced the glass of water precariously in her hand.
"Oh, and I'm being carried up the stairs. I like this."
All I could think about was how this was so unlike me.
The thought of carrying someone over the threshold, so to speak, didn’t seem ridiculous like it did before.
With Liz, it felt natural, especially because it seemed to make her so damn happy.
I’d always been a cynic, as my brothers liked to point out.
After hundreds of divorce mediations, I didn’t believe in the idea of relationships anymore. But with Liz, I believed it.
More than that…
I wanted it.