Page 30 of Win a Date with a Baker

Our eyes meet.

Neither of us says a word.

I don’t kiss her because I planned to.

I kiss her because suddenly I can’t imagine doing anything else.

Her lips curve into a smile against mine before the kiss deepens.

She tastes faintly of champagne and lemon.

Her free hand settles against my chest, and I slide my hand carefully to her waist, drawing her just a little closer.

She comes willingly.

Like she’d been hoping I would.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both laughing softly.

“It’s a wonder you get anything done,” she murmurs.

“Oh?”

“You keep getting distracted.”

I brush my forehead against hers. “I wonder whose fault that is.”

“I’m innocent.”

“Not for a second.”

Without stopping to question whether or not it’s a good idea, I pull Elizabeth into my arms and press my mouth to hers.

She smiles against my mouth. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it.

Or maybe she does.

Either way, it undoes me.

“I was trying to learn how to bake,” she murmurs.

“You are.”

“This doesn’t feel like baking.”

“No,” I admit, brushing my thumb lightly along her waist. “I suppose we’ve gotten a little off track.”

“A little?”

“A very little.”

She laughs, and I swear I’d spend the rest of my life trying to earn that sound if she’d let me.

Her hands slide up my chest, smoothing over my T-shirt before resting lightly on my shoulders.

“I don’t mind the detour.”

“Good.”