Dylan skimmed a finger along Traci’s wrist. “Soft.” With her hunger sated once more and color back in her cheeks, Dylan had given the go-ahead for them to return to work. Now, his touch ignited a burst of sparks along Traci’s skin as she continued the lesson on separating eggs. Her cheeks heated, and she bowed her head, masking her shock with an overly-sharp tone. “Focus, Dylan. Are you paying attention?” “Oh, eggs…right.” He lifted his finger, breaking the touch. “Yeah…the cake.” His breath warmed the nape of her neck like the soft breeze of an impending summer storm. Traci wiggled from the embrace of his arms and turned to face him, her lips a hair’s breadth from his as his electric gaze captured hers and held tight. For the slightest moment she stood paralyzed, unable to speak as Dylan grazed a knuckle along her temple. “You’ve got flour…” His voice was the first flash of lightning. “…right here.” “Thanks.” The word barely came. “And a smudge of sugar…”
