Mocha Pleasures. Pamela Yaye
considered his offer. She suspected his invitation was the modern-day equivalent of inviting her upstairs to see his etchings, and wondered what else the hunky baker wanted to show her. The thought aroused her body, infected it with lust. What’s the matter with me? Why am I undressing him with my eyes? Why am I fantasizing about a man who has the power to break my heart and ruin my mother’s business?
“I better get back to the kitchen, or my sister will skin my hide.” Standing, tray in hand and grin on display, he winked good-naturedly. “See you at seven o’clock, beautiful. Stay sweet.”
Then, without waiting for her answer, he turned and strode off, as if the matter was decided. And that was when Grace knew she’d bitten off more than she could chew.
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