Just Desserts by Marquita Valentine

you, and to assure you I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never have to sell anything ever again just to get by? He wanted to say all of that, and much more, but he couldn’t, else he’d forfeit his right to ever talk to her again, even as Jules.
    His gaze settled on her hair and he blinked. “What happened to the bright orange?” And why hadn’t she told Jules? Perhaps it was because he was a man, he reminded himself.
    “ Got tired of it,” she said with a smile, and then her smile turned into a grin. “You didn’t recognize me, huh? That’s why you stood there with your mouth hanging open.”
    Damn, he’d become rather fond of the orange. He’d dreamed of her with orange hair. Of it sliding over his skin as she kissed him. “You fancy this color better?”
    Tentatively, she brushed a strand of hair behind a delicate ear. It reminded him of a seashell, perfectly formed. Although, he had never wanted to nibble on seashells. “This is my real color, well mostly.”
    “ Mostly?”
    “ At the bottom, it’s all different colors,” she said, her hazel eyes never leaving his. There was a connection between them, she had to feel it. He felt it; it had never left. “Pink, purple, green, and blue, but I’m a brunette.”
    And how gorgeous you are, no matter the color.
    “ Darling,” he began without thinking.
    “ My name is Daisy,” she said, firmly. “Use it.”
    “ Of course, I apologize,” he murmured, his arms aching to hold her.
    She gave him an odd look, and he wanted to leave. He was acting like a bumbling, bemused boy.
    “ Well, now that we got my change in hair color out of the way, would you like to try what I fixed for Zoe and Christian?”
    “ Of course,” he said, following her to the island in the middle of her kitchen.
    She made him a plate, placing bits of this and that on it.
    He ate without speaking. The fact that he was in her presence was enough for him. Well, almost. He was a man after all, and he wanted her. He wanted to touch and kiss her, but he couldn’t walk into her apartment and say that, now could he?
    “ Everyone around here loves chicken salad, and the fruit compote—it’s my great aunt Pearl’s recipe,” she said, describing the food. God, he missed her voice. It sounded as pleasing as ever. She stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.
    Nod, he told his head. Fortunately, it listened.
    “ You haven’t been listening to a thing I said, have you?” She poured a glass of water for him.
    “ Not really,” he admitted, taking a quick sip. He was parched, he realized. Most likely from nerves. Oh, if his mates could see him now. Anxious over a woman who barely knew he existed in the world.
    Her eyes widened, and her cheeks pinkened. “Oh, okay. Um, so what did you think?”
    “ Honestly?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ This menu seems a tad boring. You’ll need to dazzle the guests at my brother’s wedding.”
    “ So you don’t like anything ?” she asked, staring at him in obvious disbelief.
    Oh God, he’d hurt her feelings. He’d rather slit his own throat than hurt her. “Well, I—”
    She pasted on a smile, much like the one she’d given him before. “Zoe said she wanted traditional southern, and that’s what I made, but if you think the people who come won’t like it, then I can try something different.”
    Ah, hell. There had to be a way he could fix this. He glimpsed a plate of sweets and his mouth began to water. “The cupcakes with the light brown icing look promising,” he said, trying to repair the damage.
    Wordlessly, she slid the plate in front of him.
    He picked up a cupcake and bit into it. Salty and sweet with a hint of savory hit his tongue, and he nearly moaned his appreciation. Sublime. Her cupcakes were sublime in every way. So was she.
    “ Look, you can’t expect to impress people with such simple fare, though if you fed them these, they’d fall at your feet and worship you.” He blinked at the expression on her face.