Did she feel the same? Only one way to find out.
Chapter Seventeen
Jada smiled at the two women stepping up to the front counter. “Hey, nice to see you again, Gwen and Tracy. How can I help you?”
“By serving us the best cupcakes in the city, of course,” Gwen said with a wide smile.
Tracy gestured toward her outfit of yoga pants and a tank top over a sports bra. “What better way to reward ourselves for a good workout than with a cupcake from the best cupcakery in the city?”
Jada grinned. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
Tracy had attended the sexual healing bachelorette party and mentioned she worked out at the gym two blocks over, but she’d never known Sugar Blitz existed.
“How you doing, sugar?” Tracy asked.
“Good.” And she was. The appearance on Good Day, San Diego had gone better than she could have imagined. Her relationship with Donovan was in the best place it had ever been in. Not that they were in a relationship relationship. If she sometimes thought about how he made her laugh like no one had in a long time, or how he’d quietly supported her in the supply closet or on the show, or how he’d kissed her in said supply closet, well, then … nothing. They’d agreed that they were friends only, and that was that.
She wasn’t going to tip over the proverbial apple cart for someone who hadn’t indicated he looked at her as someone other than an annoying friend or fake girlfriend. They were friends, and that was okay. She needed friends, and he’d been there for her as she embarked on this new chapter in her life. Operation: Jada Gets Her Life Together was still in effect. And that was that. She focused on her customers. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I’ll take a pumpkin swirl,” Gwen said.
“I’ll have a peanut butter chocolate,” Tracy said. “Give me the biggest one in the case. If I’m going to add back all those calories I burned off working out, I’m going to do it in style.”
Jada laughed and rang up their order. “Enjoy, ladies.”
They took their goodies and headed to one of the few available tables.
Jada scanned the store with eager eyes. Most of the tables were filled with customers happily munching on cupcakes and sipping coffee or lemonade. A stark contrast from her first few days at the shop. And it was due, in large part, to her—some unintentional, but a lot intentional. Her work had brought in new customers who were turning into repeat customers. In addition to the book club meeting and bachelorette party, they’d held a singles night, pairing people based on their favorite cupcakes, and a couple of birthday parties, all fun and successful. This weird feeling flowing through her veins, giving her energy, was pride.
She lowered her head to check the display case. They were running low on vanilla cupcakes. Today’s special—mocha fudge—was selling briskly, but they’d restocked less than an hour ago, so they should be good for a while. Only five peanut butter chocolate cupcakes left. They needed more of those, too, or else Katrina, who came in every day to buy cupcakes for her workers at her design firm as an afternoon treat, would not be happy.
Jada froze. Something was different. Maybe even wrong? The quiet din of conversation permeating the shop a few seconds ago had died a sudden death. Jada raised her head. And gasped.
Dr. John Timmerman, the star of My One and Only, was standing at the entrance of the store, surveying the interior. And everyone had noticed. The quiet disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Loud whispers and clicks of camera phones filled the air.
John’s perusal stopped when he spotted her. A confident smile spread across his handsome face and he marched toward her with long, purposeful strides. There was no doubt he was a striking man. The other contestants had all flipped when he was introduced to them, delighted the show had managed to secure such a photogenic star. He was about six feet tall, a few inches shorter than Donovan. He had the muscular physique of a man who spent plenty of time in the gym and lived off boiled chicken and rice.
His teeth were white and perfect. His face was perfectly symmetrical. A sharp nose hovered over lips that were neither too thin nor too full. Dark brown skin stretched over high cheekbones. He had long eyelashes plenty of women, including Jada, paid plenty of money to replicate.
He was perfect.
She’d rejected him on national TV.
And he was here.
Her heart, which had stopped beating when she first spotted him, started pounding again at three times its resting rate.
What was he doing here?
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out when he stopped in front of the counter.