Red Velvet (Silk Stocking Inn #1) by Tess Oliver, Anna Hart

leaving the Silk Stocking Inn. It seemed that Grayson and I would have to have some kind of conversation about us, about this thing we’d started. At the same time, I felt a cold dread in knowing full well that this had probably just been a weekend of sex for him. I was sure he’d probably just kiss me good-bye without a word of seeing me again. That terrible thought brought back some of the chill warmed by the bath.
    I would have to see how our good-bye went and not jump to any conclusions yet. If it seemed he had no further interest in me, then I would accept it and leave here with my chin up. I never groveled, especially when it came to relationships. I would just pick myself up, drive away and try to catalog this weekend as a fun splurge. Right. Who was I kidding? I was obviously a naive novice at this kind of inhibition free weekend.
    I patted myself dry and pulled on the nightie and satiny robe. I walked out to the bedroom, feeling gloomy and wanting to kick myself. It was that damn fog, and those delicious red velvet cupcakes and this beautiful inn and mysterious but wonderful hostess. And, of course, I couldn’t forget the incredibly irresistible man. Then, as if my thoughts had spoken to him through the door, he knocked.
    “Yes?” I said trying to use a brusque tone, but with little luck.
    The door cracked open. His hand came through with a plate on his palm. A slice of apple pie sat on top and instantly, filled my room with the scent of cinnamon. I couldn’t hold back a smile.
    “In case the pie isn’t enough—” His second hand followed with a can of whipping cream. “I’m especially partial to the kind of whipped cream that comes shooting out of a can. It could be used on any kind of dessert.” He poked his head around the door. “Still too bold?” he asked.
    I walked over and took the plate from his hand. “Maybe, but the pie was a very smart tactical move. I’m still on the fence about the whipped cream. But I might be open to negotiation if it’s used just right.”
    Grayson stepped into the room. He’d pulled on dry jeans and a t-shirt. His wet hair was combed back off his face. Sometimes it was hard to believe how perfectly handsome he was.
    I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin and snatched the can of cream from his hand. I gave the pie an ample squirt. I stopped, leaned my head back and let a swirl of the sweet cream fall into my mouth. He watched with full attention as I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip to lick it off. I handed him back the can. Ten seconds in the man’s presence and I was already back to wild flirt mode.
    I strolled over to the dresser, making sure to swing my hips just enough, and leaned against it to eat my pie.
    “Jessi, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know that I was out digging the trench. It was rude of me to leave you alone so long.”
    I swallowed a bite of pie. It was, as expected, delicious. “That’s all right. I may have overreacted. Thunderstorms don’t exactly bring out the best in me.”
    He walked closer. “Must be some way I can make it up to you.”
    I dropped my fork on the plate as he took hold of my wrist. He lifted the can and sprayed a small dollop of cream on the back of my hand and then took his time licking it off. Naturally, my entire body responded in predictable fashion. My nipples pressed against the smooth fabric of the nightie, a physical reaction that didn’t escape his notice.
    He took the plate from my hand and placed it on the dresser behind me. He stood right in front of me, ripples of heat flowing between us as he pushed the robe off my shoulders. It slipped to the floor in a satiny heap.
    Grasyon nodded his dark head at the can in his hand. “I think I’m ready for that dessert.” He pulled the top of my nightie down to expose my breast. He pressed the plastic nozzle on the whipped cream can. A squirt of air came with it, and instead of a nice curly dollop, sticky white specks of whipped cream covered my face,