Her mother’s smile widened, a self-satisfied look just this side of gloating in her eyes.

“You left to force my hand?” Pandora realized, almost breathless from the shock.

“Well, the store was in trouble, of course. And I was having a heck of a time figuring out how to keep things afloat and still meet my commitment in Sedona. But I imagine I could have probably muddled through, canceled the appearance and crossed my fingers until the spring bus tour if I’d had to.” Cassiopeia waved a heavily bejeweled hand as if her manipulation didn’t matter. “But the point is, I didn’t have to. Thanks to your return to Black Oak, and your clever café idea, we’re in wonderful shape for the first time in years.”

“That was a huge risk to take if you didn’t have to,” Pandora pointed out, trying to calm her sudden jitters. “I could have ruined the store. What if I’d failed?”

“Then you’d fail,” Cassiopeia said with a shrug.

“You’d risk the family legacy to teach me a lesson?”

“The family legacy is talent, dear. It’s intuition. It’s not a building and a bunch of candles and crystals.”

Pandora choked down the urge to scream. She knew what the hell to do with the shop, dammit. But she didn’t have any talent. So where did that leave her? She’d thought she’d finally contributed to the family name. That she’d done something worthy of the women who’d come before her.

“Darling, you make it so hard on yourself. Instead of embracing hope, which will help you realize your gift, you spend all your time chasing the Furies, trying to corral misery before it causes hurt,” Cassiopeia said, launching into one of her favorite stories. In the Easton family, they didn’t believe in choosing a name until they’d discovered the newborn’s personality. Pandora had been Baby Girl for eight months until the gods, fate and the tarot cards had revealed her destiny to Cassiopeia. “You need to quit worrying about those miseries, darling. Instead, focus on joy. That’s the only way you’ll find the right path.”

With that, Cassiopeia rose and glided to the kitchen to set her teacup in the sink, returned to kiss the top of her silently fuming daughter’s head and left.

An hour later, frustrated tears still trickled down Pandora’s cheeks. She didn’t even answer when someone knocked tentatively on her door. Eleven o’clock on a Sunday night, it could only be one person. And she was too worked up to deal with her mother twice in one day.

The knock sounded again, a little louder this time.

Who the hell needed to chase misery when it was always right there, tapping her on the shoulder and reminding her that she didn’t measure up. That she was a waste of her family name. Ungifted and unworthy.

The urge to run away-again-made her body quiver. But unlike her escape when she’d been eighteen, this time she didn’t have anywhere to go. Nor did she still have that cocky faith that she could prove to her mother, her grandmother and everyone else in Black Oak that she could be a success without the family gift.

Pounding replaced the tentative knock.

“Fine,” she huffed, jumping to her feet.

Her mother wouldn’t give up. She had probably headed home to gather some crystals and cards, determined to help her daughter find that damned path she always harped on.

“What?” Pandora snapped as she threw open the door.

The bitter cold from the icy rain swept over her bare toes as she stared.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t Cassiopeia on her doorstep.

It was a delicious looking chocolate éclair with what looked like a tub of ice cream and, if she wasn’t mistaken, hot-fudge sauce.

Her eyes met Caleb’s golden gaze.

“I thought you could use a sugar rush,” he said, lifting the dessert a little higher. “It comes with, or without, a second spoon.”

She hesitated. Attention was a good thing, but attention while she was having a tantrum? Hardly something she wanted Caleb to remember her for.

“I’m not very good company right now,” she demurred, rubbing her hands over the velvet of her skirt and wishing she were wearing sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. Something innocuous to hide behind. Although, if she was going to do some wishing, she should put all her falling stars and birthday candles toward having washed her tear-stained face instead of answering the door looking like a sad raccoon.

“I’m not looking for entertainment,” Caleb said, shrugging before leaning one broad shoulder against the door frame. Catching the arch look she shot him, he grinned. “I’m not looking for that, either.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no if you decided to strip naked and paint my name across your body in this fudge sauce before inviting me to lick it off.” He waited for Pandora’s laugh before continuing, “But that’s not what this is about. I’m just here as…as…”

Pandora swallowed hard to get past the lump of emotions suddenly clogging her throat. “As?”

“As a friend.”

The only thing that kept the tears from leaking down her face was fear of adding another layer to the raccoon effect. Instead, Pandora sniffed surreptitiously and stepped aside to let him in.

“How’d you know I needed a friend tonight?” she asked as Caleb crossed the room. “Better yet, how’d you know my mother wasn’t still here?”

“She stopped by the party.” He gave her a quick look, something shuttered in his eyes making her wonder if he’d had his own parental confrontation. “She looked a little stressed herself, so I figured I’d check on you.”

So Cassiopeia had decided to skip the crystals and cards and had sent in a sexy ego boost instead. Too dejected to even fake being a good hostess, Pandora dumped two bowls on the table. Caleb, jacket gone and his shirtsleeves rolled up, scooped big fat mounds of vanilla-bean ice cream into them.

Her frustration and hurt feelings shifted, sliding into second place behind her sudden urge to lick hot fudge off his knuckle. Her body warmed, excitement stirring at the sight of Caleb’s hands. So strong. So big. So wonderfully good at sending her into a fog of desire where she could forget everything except him and the pleasure he brought.

“What?” he said, noting her stare.

“Just realizing something,” she said, color warming her cheeks.

“Again… What?”

“You have magic hands,” Pandora admitted despite her embarrassment. “I knew they felt incredible. I’ve had plenty of proof of their copious talents. But I didn’t realize until just now that they are magic.”

Caleb’s grin was huge as he plopped sloppy globs of whipped cream on top of the fudge-covered ice cream. “Magic, huh?”

“Yep.” Pandora pulled one of the bowls toward her, grabbing a spoon with the other hand.

She suddenly felt a million times better.

“Tell me more,” he invited, stashing what was left of dessert in the freezer. He joined her at the table, but didn’t sit.

“More, hmm?” she said, giving him a slow, teasing smile as she licked hot fudge off her spoon. The rich, bittersweet flavor slid down her throat. “How about we make it a show-and-tell kind of thing?”

His wicked smile didn’t change, but his eyes did. They sharpened and heated at the same time. He reached out a hand, pulling her to her feet. Then he scooped up his bowl, handing her the other one, and led the way out of the kitchen.

“We’re eating in bed?” she teased as excitement spun and swirled like a snowflake inside her, buffeting through her system and making her breathless with need.

“Too messy,” he deemed, continuing through the living room, one hand wrapped around hers to keep her close. He stopped at the bathroom and glanced in, gave a decisive nod, then turned to her with an arched brow. “Do you have a blanket you don’t mind getting sticky?”

“Sticky?”

“Babe, even if I paint as carefully as I can, my magic hands might drip a little bit before I can lick this hot fudge off your naked body.”

“That’s going to make a mess,” she said, not really caring.

“That’s what bubble bath is for,” he assured her. “I assume you have bubbles.”

Bubbles?

Ten minutes ago she’d been wallowing in misery, sure her life sucked hard. And now? Now she had Caleb, with his tub of vanilla ice cream, his gorgeous smile and an intuitive understanding of her that nobody, not even her best friend, had ever had.

He made her feel so many things. Sexual and passionate. Exciting and fun. Brave and strong and interesting.

But most of all, he made her feel safe. Like it was okay to stand in the middle of the room and make a fool of herself. Like he accepted and appreciated her. All of her.

And now he wanted to feed her dessert, then take a bubble bath with her. Yes, it was sexual. But she knew it was more than that. She could see it in his body language. In the set of his shoulders and the concern on his face.

He was doing it to make her feel better.

“I do have bubbles,” she said, trying not to giggle at the image of the ultramasculine Caleb Black surrounded by frothy floral-scented bubbles.

And from the terrified nerves jumping through her system at her realization. She was in love with him.

That wasn’t the plan. It was crazy. It was a huge mistake. And she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let herself. Not right now. It might not be her path, but it was a wonderful place to be. And just for now, she was going to give herself the gift of enjoying it.

“And I’ll be happy to share my bubbles with you,” she assured him as she grabbed a blanket off the couch and laid it in front of the Christmas tree. “Right after we find out who can get whom stickier.”


“YOU SMELL LIKE FLOWERS,” Fifi observed as Pandora swept into the store the next day. “Is that a new perfume?”

“Bubble bath,” she told the blonde, winking. “I’m going to get started on the cookies and desserts for today’s lunch crowd, okay? Can you handle the store yourself?”