Bonus Scene

Presley

“Are you going for Godmother of the Year or what?” Erin asks me with a raise of her brows, as she eyes the cakes I’ve spent the day making.

I place the bowl of cake batter on the counter and grab the oven mitts so I can check the cake in the oven. “As far as Lucy is concerned, I am the best Godmother. I’m spoiling her a little because she’s upset that the clown her Mum booked for her birthday party tomorrow has now cancelled. At the last minute.”

Erin looks at the three cakes I’ve already baked and decorated, and asks, “How many more are you making?”

The cake in the oven is ready so I pull it out as I answer her. “Two more.”

“Jesus, the kid’s what, six? Don’t you think five cakes is overkill?”

I shoo her away. “You can never have too much cake. Everyone knows that. Remind me never to make you Godmother of my child.”

My phone buzzes for someone to be let in the front gate, and when I answer it, Jett’s deep voice hits my veins like the drug it is. “Hey, sweetheart, can you let me in?”

Happiness buzzes through me. I wasn’t expecting him today because he was supposed to be at the studio working on his album, so this is a good surprise. I press the button to let him in and then turn back to Erin. “Jett’s here.”

She groans at me from the stool she’s sitting on at the counter. “Ugh,” she complains and drops her head on the counter. “Why do you punish me this way, God?”

I laugh and shake my head at her. “How is it punishing you?”

Lifting her face to look at me through exaggerated displeasure, she mutters, “Having to sit through the Jett and Presley show is a form of torture. You have no idea.”

Before I can ask her what she means, Jett knocks on my door, so I put that thought on hold for a moment to let him in. His blue eyes meet mine as I open the door, and need shoots through me. The sexy smile tugging at his lips only serves to turn me on more.

He sweeps in, slides his arms around my waist, and pulls me close so he can catch my lips in a deep kiss. My tummy flutters at the feel of his strong arms around me, and his mouth on mine. And this kiss . . . it’s the kind of kiss that pushes all rational thoughts out of your mind. The kind of kiss a woman dreams of having on tap for the rest of her life.

When he pulls away, he’s still wearing that sexy Jett smile. His gaze traces my face and then drops lower to roam over my neck and chest. Finally, he finds my eyes and murmurs, “Fucking beautiful.”

The butterflies whoosh through my tummy and I grip him a little harder to steady myself. “That’s not fair play, Mr. Rockstar.”

His smile flares into a full-on grin. “A man’s gotta use all the cards he’s got, baby.”

“Trust me when I say you’ve already got a winning hand; there’s no need for wild cards here,” I inform him, doing my best to ignore the desire pooling in my stomach. If Erin wasn’t here, I’d take advantage of him, but we’re going to have to take a raincheck.

“A single girl who gets no regular descent sex could be driven to drink if she were subjected to you two on a regular basis,” Erin calls out and we turn to laugh at her.

Looking back up at Jett, I say, “She was just telling me how torturous it is being around us.”

His grin turns cheeky. “We better not let her down. Let’s bring on the torture,” he teases, and Erin rolls her eyes and bangs her head on the counter again.

Jett’s gaze drifts to the cakes on the table, and he gives me an inquiring look. “What’s with the cakes?”

“It’s my Goddaughter’s birthday party tomorrow so I volunteered to make cake.”

“I didn’t know you had a Goddaughter.”

“Yeah, Lucy, she’s six and I don’t get to spend anywhere near as much time with her as I would prefer.”

“If you’re wondering why there are so many cakes, it’s because the clown cancelled,” Erin informs him, drily.

He frowns, looking between Erin and me. “The clown cancelled?”

Shaking my head at Erin’s dig, I fill him in. “The party is tomorrow and the clown that Lucy’s Mum had booked for it, cancelled last night. What kind of decent human being cancels a six year old’s party at the last minute?”

“Maybe you should take Jett. He could perform for Lucy,” Erin suggests, jokingly, and while I think it would be fun to have him there, I’m not going to ask that of him and subject him to so many six year olds.

“We’ve got it covered. We’ll wear the kids out with party games,” I say as I head back into the kitchen to start decorating the remaining cakes.

Jett follows me and his eyes almost bulge out of his head when he spots the maple walnut cake sitting on the counter. Pointing at it, he says, “That doesn’t look like a kid’s cake but damn it looks good.”

Winking at him, I reply, “That one’s for the adults. It’s our reward for running after all those kids.”

He leans his hip against the counter and looks at me in wonder. “You’ve been holding out on me; I had no idea you could bake like this.”

Raising my brows, I quip, “That would be because you’ve been too busy learning other things about me.”

His sexy grin returns. “Maybe you could teach me those other things in the kitchen.” He leans forward to drop a kiss on my lips before adding, “And we could involve cream in those lessons, too.”

“I’m all for that,” I say, and poke my finger at his chest before adding, “so long as you clean up the mess.”

His expression grows thoughtful. “So, maybe I should come with you tomorrow to this party. I can help you carry cake and then I can sing some songs for Lucy and her friends. And then I can eat maple walnut cake.”

His offer is amazing, but I’m not sure he knows what he’s getting himself into so I try to dissuade him. “Do you even know any children’s songs?”

Placing his hand over his heart, he fakes pain. “Way to wound a man, babe. Of course I know some kid’s songs, and I can learn some more tonight.”

I hold my hands up in defence. “Sorry, but I’m just trying to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Hit me; tell me what to expect, and then I’ll give you my verdict.”

“Okay, there will be fifteen six year olds there, and a handful of younger kids. They’ll be all over you, begging you to keep singing and playing with them. And it will be noisy.”

Chuckling, he says, “Sounds just like your average concert.” Winking at me, he nods. “I reckon I can handle that so count me in.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “You’re just doing this for maple walnut cake, aren’t you?”

His chuckle turns into a laugh. “Maybe.” And then he pulls me to him, and murmurs, “But mostly I’m doing it to get to spend time with you.”

He doesn’t know it, but those words, from his lips, guarantee him anything he wants from me tonight. Jett Vaughn doesn’t need any cards to play at my table. All he needs is that mouth and the charm that falls out of it.

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