I don't think Jack's eyes have ever been this wide in his entire life."I know I have some explaining to do," I say. It's Monday night and we're sitting at the tasting table in my bakery. I've just broken my news to Jack over the feast of chili fries he brought me."You're damned right you have some explaining to do," he says. "You do remember how things ended between you the first time, don't you?""I know, I just... Jack, I can't help it. I've never felt this way about anyone else in my entire life. I don't know if I ever will." I run my finger over a knot in the woodgrain on the table's surface. "I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like I was always meant to be with him. And I can fight it, or I can try to make it work."He shakes his head. "So that's it, then? He's the love of your life? You're going to marry him?""Geez, Jack. We just got back together. I'm not thinking about marriage yet.""Yet. Which means it's on the table. Have you thought about what that means? What kind

Let's be real: anyone who knew my name could have figured out where I work with a little bit of internet research. Certainly many reporters and photographers did. But now this site has made it easy for anyone to find me.And find me they do.Suddenly our phone is ringing off the hook - and not just the bakery phone, but my personal cell phone, too. I must have my number linked to one of my social media profiles or something, and before long I have to turn it off to keep from going insane.Most of the calls coming in on the bakery's main line are still from reporters, but some members of the general public are calling in, too, asking if Dante Fontaine will be making any appearances here anytime soon. Or asking what Dante's favorite dessert is. Or what his last order was.Under different circumstances, I might have found it amusing - at least until the threats started.The first one comes an hour after my bakery' name is posted."Hello?" I say into the receiver. I've probably answe

Somehow Dante and I make it off my doorstep and into the house. He manages to press me up against the wall without breaking the kiss. I'm not sure if seconds or minutes or even hours have passed. I only know that kissing him is life. It's an explosion of passion that threatens to consume me.When he finally pulls back, I'm dazed and fuzzy-minded with pleasure. I lean my head back against the wall, eyes still closed, as he brushes one last soft kiss against the corner of my mouth. There's a brief pause, and then suddenly he lets out a laugh.God, that laugh. That rare, beautiful sound makes me go soft all over. I open my eyes to see what's causing that marvelous, heart-swelling, intoxicating reaction, but when I do, my eyes go straight to his lips - and the enormous smear of Blood Orchid Red across them. His entire mouth is smudged with it. And the skin surrounding his mouth. And his chin. And even parts of his cheeks, though I don't remember my lips ever going there.He's still laug

"Men were threatening you?" Dante demands. "Men you know?" His voice is so strained that he hardly even sounds like himself.I shake my head. "Strangers."The muscles of his chest are rigid beneath my hands. He doesn't move - doesn't even breathe - for a full minute."Why didn't you tell me this?" he demands finally. His eyes bore into me."I knew it would upset you.""Of course it upsets me!""Well, it's not like there's anything we can do about it," I say."You still should have told me." He releases me and turns away, his hands going to his hair."What good has it done, telling you?" I say. "You don't tell me everything, either. We've just started seeing each other again. It's okay to still have some secrets."He turns back toward me. "And what secrets do you think I'm hiding from you?""Not secrets, necessarily," I say. "But you dodge all of my questions about your work." Between the tense phone calls and his odd behavior at the studio, something is definitely going on.

I can tell the exact moment Dante's eyes land on the sheet of paper because his fingers freeze. "Where did you get that?""Your notes blew off the table and I was picking them up." I shouldn't have looked at them, I know, but it's too late for such regrets. "Is this a character in your script? You're using this? Using me?"He doesn't speak for a long moment. Too long. And when the words finally come, he talks slowly, as if choosing every word carefully. "Writers use real people as inspiration sometimes, Ash. It helps us create characters that feel authentic. But a lot of influences go into a character. Bits and pieces from different people and different experiences."I'm still frozen in his arms. "Her name is Ashley.""That was the director's decision. It's his girlfriend's name - purely a coincidence.""But this note about me isn't a coincidence. You have a comment about her running a bakery... about her having emotional baggage..." But my eyes keep going back to the weaknesses: