“Push this button.” Donovan showed her what to do. She mimicked his movements precisely, holding her breath. She released the button. Miracle of miracles, disaster didn’t strike. The ingredients whirled and stayed in the bowl. She let out a little squeal and tried to turn it into a more dignified cough when Donovan side-eyed her, but then something got caught in her throat. She ended up doubled over, hacking up a lung.
He whacked her on the back. “Are you okay?”
She stumbled forward. Too bad she couldn’t stumble away from her embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What’s next?”
He eyed her, his face impassive. Jada sighed. At least he wasn’t laughing at her.
“Time to bake.” He showed her how to scoop the mixture into the baking pans. A good fourth of the sticky, liquidy mixture ended up on the counter, and the part that did end up in the baking pan cutouts looked nothing like Donovan’s evenly spread-out version. But she did it. She just had to accept the mess.
The heavenly scent of vanilla rent the air. Her stomach called out for a cupcake. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to have about ten cavities when her time at Sugar Blitz was done.
“How long?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes.” He stepped closer, bringing his heat and woodsy, tempting scent with him. She ordered her feet to not move.
“What?”
“You have some flour on your—” He gestured toward her face.
Oh, great. This was the third time she’d been in Donovan’s presence, and the second time she ended up with something on her face. Fantastic percentage. She swiped at her nose. “Better?”
His lips crooked. “No, not really.” The soft pad of his thumb stroked across her cheek. Air lodged in Jada’s throat. He was close. The heat from his body rolled over her, creating a cocoon of delicious warmth she wanted to snuggle up into. “There. Got it.”
Her lips parted, air escaping in an unsteady rhythm as she tracked the movement of his thumb with greedy eyes. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together like he was savoring the touch of her skin, but perhaps she was projecting. He hadn’t stepped away, however. Nor had he taken his eyes away from hers. Her gaze slipped lower. His lips, too, had parted. The moment built … lingered. His eyes darkened with awareness. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
“There’s a guy at the front insisting on speaking to the manager. I think he’s a fan, and he’s not taking no for an answer.”
Jada whirled. Ella stood there, eyes darting between the two of them.
Donovan recovered first. “And we can’t afford to say no.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and hurried toward the door. He stopped. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.” She needed as much alone time as possible to recover. Her breath was still coming hard and fast, her pulse racing. What was that? Had they almost…？ No.
The air rushed out of her lungs in relief when he exited with Ella close on his heels. Okay, time to restore her equilibrium. What had they been doing before they … looked at each other? She turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings. Oh, right. They were in a kitchen baking cupcakes. Her gaze landed on the pans they’d poured the mixture into. All that was left was putting the pre-baked cupcakes into the oven. Even she could handle that.
* * *
A loud screeching sound rang through the cupcakery. Beep, beep, beeeeep!
Jada froze. What was that? It sounded like the …
“Fire alarm!” Ella’s eyes widened. She hurried around the counter. Jada followed close at her heels. Donovan’s office door flew open and he and August joined them in their mad dash to the kitchen. Jada started coughing before Donovan pushed the door open.
When he did, she gasped. Wisps of gray smoke filled the air. Tendrils of dread, much like the smoke irritating her eyes, began to curl in her stomach and sting her from the inside out. Even worse, the room’s other occupants began to cough. Embarrassment scalded her, hurting ten times more than the smoke.
Jada’s gaze cut to the oven, where the plumes of smoke were originating. “Oh, no,” she whispered. She ran to the oven and yanked the door open. Thick whirls of smoke blew directly into her face. “Oh, no.” Her incantation was a little louder now.
She stared at the black, hard lumps that could masquerade as the coal Santa put in the stockings of naughty children. What had she done? That was her handiwork. “I’m so sorry.”