"You don't seem too bothered by it."

"And why should I be? I developed a tough skin in New York, and it helps my business. Women come in to see what I have that causes the guys around them to chase me. Some even buy stuff to impress their husbands, while guys come in to order my stuff for their bachelor parties or whatever. While they are here, they'll hit on me and expect they can be the one to get under my dress. I flirt back, they pay, they leave, everyone is happy."

Jonathan eyed her critically. "That's a callous attitude to have, isn't it?"

Fancy felt her anger rise at that question. She sat forward and flared at the man who would be in her home for the next week. "Why is it callous? Should I walk around here trying to get these people not to think the worst of me? Join the church club and change who I am to fit in? Fuck no! I know who I am. I know who I've let into my bed. It isn't any of these closet whores who want to cheat on their wives or pretend to be pillars of the community while trying to grope my ass. I sell cakes--that's it--not my body on the back table. I'm Fancy McKee, entrepreneur, the best baker this town has ever seen, lover for the right person, hell on wheels for the wrong ones. I won't change who I am for anyone. I outgrew this town when I left it, and now I'm back, it sure as hell is going have to grow to accept me or not!"

By the time Fancy finished her little speech, she was on her feet. In her heart, she was tired of having to explain herself to everyone. She held it together under every snide barb or double-edged compliment. For some reason, when Jonathan questioned her, it brought it all to the surface. Why should she care what he thought? But she did care what he thought, and that alone made her upset. She didn't want anyone getting close enough to see how much she kept beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry, Fancy." Jonathan's soft voice came to her. "I know you aren't like what people think."

"How do you know, Jonathan, hmm? How can you know for sure that I'm not whoring around like they said?"

"Because anyone whoring around would not just tell me off. And, second, from the day you let me sign that lease on sight, I knew you were an upstanding kinda girl." He smiled to appease her and gave her a boyish look that caused her heart to flutter just a bit.

"Come on, I'll help you to bed." Fancy walked over and helped him out of the sofa. She braced him under his shoulders so that he could use her for support, and they walked slowly to her second bedroom.

"I laid out some sweats and a T-shirt on the bed for you . . ." Fancy's voice trailed off as she moved from under his arms and turned to face him. His eyes bored into her, and she felt the flash fire of heat deep in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you saying I'm sorry?" Fancy could hear the breathless tone to her voice and vaguely wondered what it was about him that caused the erratic flutter.

"Because I am going to kiss you now, and you might slap the taste out of my mouth after." Jonathan's reply was a low and sexy purr.

Fancy opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Jonathan took her lips in a kiss. Fancy made a muffled sound of pleasure before letting her hands slide up to his neck and burying them in the hair at the nape. His tongue did delicious things in her mouth that made her wet at her core. He nibbled at her lips and tempted her to do the same to him. Fancy gladly obliged, letting her tongue leisurely explore his mouth, and was rewarded with a groan of appreciation from Jonathan. He tasted of the iced tea he just drank and a something else that was only his. Fancy reveled in the feel of his lips against hers and how he kneaded her hips as his passion rose.

It had to stop, Fancy knew. She could see herself lying across the bed with him between her legs, his hard cock pulsing inside her. That thought was the one that caused her to pull away. She knew how close she was to succumbing to her instinct, and she wanted to be sure before she let that intimate connection be formed.