Sweet Spot. Сьюзен Мэллери

Hawk. While it might seem like a great way to waste time, she knew he was nothing but trouble and she would be smart to avoid him, even in her thoughts.

      Maggie knocked on her open door. “There’s a bunch of high school kids out front.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Just what I said. They came in a few minutes ago, ordered coffee and pastries. Now they’re just sitting there, talking. Like we’re a hangout. We’ve never been a hangout.”

      “Are they causing any trouble?”

      “No. They’re real polite. It’s just weird.”

      Nicole had to agree with her. “Let me see what’s going on,” she said.

      She walked to the front of the store. Sure enough most of the tables were full of teenagers laughing and talking. They were a little loud, but not doing anything she could object to. She was about to turn away, when she recognized one of the girls. A pretty blonde in shorts and a T-shirt who smiled and waved.

      “Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Brittany. We met last night.”

      “Raoul’s girlfriend.” Hawk’s daughter—a fact that was still hard to believe.

      “Right. We’re waiting until he gets off work, then we’re all going to lunch and a movie.”

      “Sounds like fun.” Nicole glanced at the clock. It was quarter to twelve. “I’ll go tell him you’re here so he can finish up. It should only be a couple of minutes.”

      “Thanks, but he doesn’t have to hurry. We’re having fun. Your Danish are incredible.”

      Nicole patted her hip. “Tell me about it.”

      She returned behind the counter where Maggie waited. “You know them?” her employee asked.

      “I met a couple of them last night at the football game.”

      Maggie had worked at the bakery for years. She and Nicole were friends, so a simple questioning look got the point across.

      “I don’t know what I was doing at a high school football game,” Nicole admitted. “Raoul plays. He asked me to go. I wanted to be supportive. He introduced me to Brittany, his girlfriend. She’s a cheerleader.”

      Maggie started laughing.

      Nicole glanced at the kids. “Stop it. Nothing about this is funny.”

      “It is to me. You’re popular.”

      “Great. It only took ten years of being out of high school for that to happen.”

      Nicole went in the back and told Raoul he could leave early. According to Sid and Phil, he was doing a great job. She appreciated having her instincts validated. She was about to leave herself when Maggie found her.

      “You have a gentleman caller waiting out front.”

      Nicole winced, even as her heart started thundering in her chest. Hawk? Was it Hawk? She hated how much she wanted it to be him. “No one talks like that.”

      “I do and he’s gorgeous.”

      Definitely Hawk.

      “Thanks,” Nicole said. “I’ll go see what he wants.”

      Maggie patted her hairnet. “If you’re not interested, ask him if he’s into older women. He’s what, in his mid-thirties? That’s only twenty years.”

      Nicole grinned. “You’re happily married.”

      “Don’t remind me.”

      Nicole returned to the front of the bakery. The teenagers were gone. Hawk stood by the counter, looking more tempting than anything in the bakery. She would take him over chocolate lava cake any day.

      Without wanting to, she remembered their kiss from the previous night. How he’d left her both wanting and afraid. Maybe she’d exaggerated the fear. If they kissed again, she would know for sure.

      “Hey,” he said, giving her a slow, sexy smile that sent her heart into a healthy aerobic state.

      “Hey, yourself.”

      Low blood sugar, she told herself. It was low blood sugar. Or the flu. It couldn’t be the man. She refused to be nothing more than a quivering mass of nerves over a guy.

      “I wanted to stop by and thank you for last night.”

      Nicole heard a snort behind her and knew that Maggie was listening. She ignored her friend.

      “Thank me?” He couldn’t mean the kiss, could he?

      “For taking those kids to the pizza place and hanging around. For listening. You’re a great role model. Older than the students, but not a parent. You’re successful, together, someone they can look up to.”

      Which all sounded nice but couldn’t she be his sex slave instead? No, wait. She wanted to be successful and together. Sex slave wasn’t her most comfortable role. She’d always been the girl-next-door type. Something told her that wasn’t Hawk’s style.

      “You didn’t come out here to thank me,” she said, wondering if he was playing her and how long it would be before she trusted a man again.

      “That’s part of why I came by.”

      “And the other part?”

      “Dessert.”

      She flashed to a very big bed with rumpled sheets, naked bodies and someone—hopefully her—moaning with pleasure. That was a dessert she could get into.

      He pulled a sheet of paper out of his back pocket. “We’re talking about thirty-five guys, a couple of parents, some friends. So say fifty people. Nothing fancy.”

      She blinked. “You’re here to order dessert for fifty?”

      “Uh-huh. Sunday afternoon we review the films from the game Friday night. It keeps them focused on the prize. I like them wired up on sugar. That way no one falls asleep. I’ve been using another bakery, but I like yours better. So what have you got?”

      Disappointment made her want to snap at him, but she didn’t. No point in letting him know how pathetic she was.

      “You won’t want a cake,” she said, stepping behind the counter and reviewing the contents of the case. “I would say cupcakes and cookies. I can put a selection together.”

      “That would be great.”

      “Any flavor requests?”

      One of Hawk’s eyebrows raised slightly. “What do you suggest?”

      No way she was falling for that, she told herself. “The usual cookies. Chocolate and vanilla cupcakes. They’re frosted but not decorated. Probably better that way.”

      “You’re resisting.”

      “What?” she asked.

      “My charm.”

      “Were you being charming?”

      “You know I was.” He handed her a card.

      She glanced at it. There was a logo for the high school, the address, his name and a phone number with an extension.

      “This is?” she asked.

      “Where I need everything delivered. About two-thirty tomorrow. The meeting room by the gym. I wrote the directions on the back.”

      “I’m not delivering this stuff.”

      “I have nowhere to store it. Or a way to get it there.”

      She looked past him to the big truck parked in front of the bakery. “That would hold a lot.”

      “Probably, but if you brought the dessert, you could stick around for the films.”

      “I