Exercise and eating well and all that seemed like a good idea whether his illness was because of genes or environment. So she ran. And ate vegetables. And then didn’t feel one iota of guilt about her daily dose of sugar and fat from Buttered Up.

“I’m more worried you’re going to forget how great the endorphins from sex feel,” Max was saying, pulling her away from her thoughts and back to the topic at hand. “And you’re going to be content with the sugar high instead.”

She nodded. “The sugar high is nice.”

“It’s nothing like the high that comes from a good hard fucking,” Max told her bluntly.

Jane sighed. It was true. She had vague memories of that being true anyway.

“So yes, I’ll take you with me next time,” he said. “But if you didn’t send yourself these cake pops, who did? Zoe? Please tell me it wasn’t Zoe. She does not need to be supporting this addiction.”

“She’s thrilled Hot Cakes employees can now buy from her,” Jane said. Maybe Zoe had sent them. That actually made a little sense. “Maybe this is a little advertising gimmick. Send these over so everyone here sees them, and a few people sample them and talk about how amazing they are.” That was actually a great idea.

“Oh, okay,” Max said, putting the bouquet back down on the break room table. “But that means you can’t eat them all. You should leave them here for other people to taste. It would be good for her business.” Max even put the second cake pop he’d grabbed back into the bouquet.

Because of the rivalry between the Lancaster and the McCaffery families, Hot Cakes employees had been banned from buying from Buttered Up, the local bakery. Wedding, birthday, and other special occasion cakes, along with muffins, scones, and other everyday bakery items had to be purchased in the next town. And they were nowhere near as good. But Hot Cakes was now under new management.

The new owners had rescued the company from closing its doors, had saved over three hundred jobs, and were, more or less, considered heroes in the town. Two of them were also hometown boys. One was Zoe’s brother, Cam. The other was the man she was madly in love with, Aiden.

It had been a rocky few weeks.

Now, though, the bakery ban had been lifted, and things were starting to improve. The guys really seemed intent on making things at Hot Cakes better. Not just business-wise, but also for the employees.

As Zoe’s best friend, Jane had Aiden’s ear and she’d been taking advantage of that. Now they just had to wait to see if the guys could pull off this big makeover.

Considering they had, more or less, accidentally become millionaires and learned all about business management as they went along, Jane had her doubts.

But she was keeping those to herself.

Mostly.

“Though,” Max mused, “it seems she should have sent a sampling of all her cake pops, right?”

Jane frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if Zoe wanted to use this to advertise, why not send a bunch of different flavors? Why are they all red velvet?”

Jane’s gaze flew to the bouquet, and her heart flipped in her chest. “They’re all red velvet?”

“Yep.” Max picked another one out of the bunch and bit into it, then held it up.

It was definitely a deep-red cake, surrounded by a white icing coating. Jane groaned. Those were not from Zoe.

Dax Marshall had figured out who she was.

It wasn’t like it would have been hard to find out or would have taken long at all.

She just hadn’t been convinced he’d care enough to try.

Or what he’d do with the information once he had it.

The cake-pop bouquet was nice. And funny. She felt her mouth tipping up at the corner.

“Is there a note or anything?” she asked.

Max turned the bouquet and then reached into the middle. Jane felt her heart rate pick up as he withdrew a card.

“See you in my office at one. Looking forward to—dot, dot, dot—working with you.” Max lifted his gaze. “What the hell is that about?”

“There’s actually a dot, dot, dot before working?” Jane asked.

“Yep.” Max turned the card to face her.

Why did that ellipsis make her feel a little warmer?

“You’re going to Aiden’s office at one?” Max asked. “You should tell him the dot, dot, dot thing makes that seem dirty. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way, but that’s definitely how I read it.”

Jane did too. She snatched the card from Max’s hand. “It’s not from Aiden.”

She wasn’t sure she should share that information, even with her best work friend. Dax was their boss, but he was here temporarily just to get things with their new ownership smoothed out. He’d be going back to Chicago. He was a computer geek. A game designer. He went to Comic-Con on behalf of their gaming company. He was originally from California. He owned a fedora that had once been worn by Frank Sinatra in a movie.

Yes, okay, she’d looked him up after their tête-á-tête at the party.

So he was her boss, but he hadn’t done anything wrong she supposed. Him being a little flirty with her was okay as long as she was okay with it.

Which she was. She definitely was.

He was not in possession of local balls. He wasn’t going to be taking her to Sunday dinner with his mom and grandma on date three. Yes, that had happened to her. He also wouldn’t consider a tailgate party and hometown football game a date. That had also happened to her. Nor would he think they should roll out of bed on Saturday morning after a night of not-too-terrible sex to do farm chores. She wasn’t above getting a little muddy or feeding chickens. It wasn’t that. It was that she’d really just been in it for the sex and maybe some pancakes in the morning. Feeding chickens together seemed, stupidly, more serious than pancakes.

Dating guys she’d known forever in her hometown was tough.

Dax Marshall was… none of the above.

And she didn’t want to date him. At all.

But she wouldn’t mind eating cake pops in bed with him.

“Who’s it from?” Max asked.

“Dax Marshall.”

Max lifted a brow. “Oh.”

Of course he knew who Dax was. Dax had been at the town hall that preceded the party the other night.

“He’s hot,” Max said, nodding.

Jane sighed. He was. “And funny and charming,” she added.

“And he knows about your cake addiction?”

“He does.”

“You’re in huge trouble,” Max decided.

Yeah, that’s what she figured.

But maybe Dax Marshall could be the kind of trouble she needed. Fun trouble. Sexy trouble.

And most importantly, temporary trouble.

At one, Jane stopped at the desk outside the suite of executive offices. There were six. The Lancasters had been all about big, fancy offices. She had no idea which one Dax was using.

There was a new woman standing behind the reception desk today. She was watering the plant that sat on the tall filing cabinet just to the side of the receptionist’s desk, and Jane actually stopped in her tracks as she took the woman in.

The woman was stunning. She had long, dark hair and curves like crazy. And she was celebrating those curves. She was dressed in a fitted white sweater with tiny pearl buttons that started just below a not-inappropriate-but-very-tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. She had a thick black belt cinching her waist above a pink skirt that flared out, hitting just below her knees. On her feet were pink wedge heels with a huge white bow above the toes. Most interestingly, her long hair—which had to hang nearly to her butt when let loose—was up in a high pony tail with a pink scarf wrapped around her head and tied in a huge bow. She also wore horn-rimmed glasses. In pink.