Love And A Latte. Jamie Pope

anything else from him either.

      “You think you know me so well? First you think I’m boring and now you magically know what I want in a woman.” He raised a brow at her and smiled. She found it incredibly sexy. There was a little dimple on his cheek. The urge to kiss it came over her. She wondered what he would do if she leaned over and kissed his face. How he would react? What would be his next step?

      She shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling of wanting to kiss him for the second time that night.

      “I just know you’re organized. I saw the business plan you constructed for this place. I’m learning how to write them for school, but yours was incredible. Beautiful, really. I’ve never seen so many colorful charts in one place. And you say you’re not artistic.”

      He took a long sip of his coffee as he looked at her. She felt like blushing with the way his eyes kept passing over her face. It was silly. She was an adult, but the way he looked at her made her feel like a girl again. “How did you see our business plan?”

      “Your sister showed me. I was having trouble with an assignment and I asked for her help. She showed me your work. I was incredibly impressed, but I guess I shouldn’t be. You went to one of the best business schools in the country. You’re a pro at it.”

      He nodded. “I spent many years in the corporate world. If you ever need help with an assignment, you can come to me. I won’t even charge you for my time.”

      “How sweet,” she said, wanting to take him up on his offer but knowing it probably wasn’t a smart idea. She was pushing the limits of her willpower by being here with him tonight. “I might take you up on that.”

      He nodded and reached for a cookie. “I still want to hear about this guy with potential that you bought the Van Der Zee for.”

      “He was a photographer. I met him while I was taking an art class at the local university. He was one of those people with big visions. He did what he called artistic photo journalism. Wanted to change the world with his work.”

      “That sounds admirable.”

      “It was, but the relationship was a little one-sided. And being with somebody who just takes can be draining. I felt like I was sacrificing what I wanted, so he could live out his dreams. I couldn’t do that. I watched my mother do that. Give up her dreams to be a wife. To raise a family. I know she loved us. And not once did she treat us like we were a burden, but I knew she wished she could have lived out her dreams. She was an illustrator. A great one. Some of her work made it into magazines, but I think her dream was to do children’s books.”

      “She gave it up completely? Was your father not encouraging?”

      “He didn’t discourage her, but there were four kids and my brother was always sick when he was younger. Life got in the way. Money needed to come in. My mother had no choice but to be practical. She sacrificed her dreams for us.”

      “And you don’t want to be like her?”

      She shook her head. “I want to have a career for her. I feel that there’s always a little sadness in her. A little regret that she was never able to share her work with the world.”

      “You should encourage her to try again. Even if it doesn’t get her anywhere, you should encourage her to draw again. Maybe take a class or two. I know a woman who gives scholarships to African American women over forty for school. I can recommend her for one.”

      His kindness took her by surprise. And it was then she knew he wasn’t all that similar to her ex. Steven would have never thought about someone else’s dreams, much less go out of his way to help them achieve them. “You would really do that?”

      “I’ll make the call tomorrow if you want.” He took a card out of his pocket and wrote a phone number on the back. “My home number is on here. Talk to your mother. If she wants to go through with it, call me and I’ll make it happen.”

      She picked up the card and studied it for a moment, studied the bold handwriting, the sleek design of the card, anything so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. She was feeling a little more emotional than she would like. She was feeling as though she really wanted to kiss him. “I’m sure she would love to go back to school. She’ll be grateful.” She looked up at him only to find him already looking at her, those beautiful intelligent eyes sweeping across her face. “I’m grateful for this.”

      “I admire creative people. You may think I’m all about numbers, but I’m a big believer in dreams. This bakery is here all because Lillian had a vision and a dream. There’s nothing wrong with a little dreaming.”

      “That’s sweet, Chase.” She was sitting in the chair next to him and leaned over and kissed his cheek. She hadn’t meant to. It was unconscious, really, but her lips sought out his face. They lingered on his smooth skin, just a moment too long. He smelled good. Clean. Expensive. With a little bit of the heavenly scent of the bakery lingering on him.

      She lifted her lips away, tried to back away before she got caught up, before she wasn’t able to make herself back away. But it was already too late. Because Chase slid his hand along her cheek and brought her face closer to his.

      He kissed her. Not hot and fiery like she might have wanted, but slow and deep like she needed. That kiss gave her another glimpse inside of him. It told her how he might be as her lover, in her bed. He would take his time just like he was taking his time now, kissing her thoroughly, not leaving any part of her mouth untasted. He would do that to her body and she could just see him starting at her toes and working his way up. His lips caressing her calves, her thighs, in between her legs.

      She moaned, arousal spiking even though it was just a soft kiss, even though he probably hadn’t meant for it to be so sexual. But she was that attracted to him. “You deserved more than what that guy gave you,” he said softly as he lifted his lips from hers. “I’m glad you realized that.”

      He sat up straight then, drained his coffee mug and shut his laptop, as if nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just kissed the hell out of her. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you to your car.”