Hmm, absolutely perfect. Or as close to perfect as one could come up with being that it was an early morning rush job, Olivia Gale thought as she pulled the deep-dish berry swirl pie out of the oven. The homemade crust was golden brown, flaking gently along the edges. Liv couldn't help but smile when she saw how beautifully her hand lettering had come out. It had taken quite a few trials, not to mention the expense of new precision knife blades from the art store, but the results were worth it.

CONGRATS DAD.

The small, baked-in sentiment looked almost magazine photo worthy. She knew her father would love it when she presented it to him later that evening at his retirement dinner.

Careful not to drop any crumbs or — heaven's, no — spill any filling on her cherished cookbook pages, Liv carefully skirted the berry swirl pie around, placing it on the counter with the apple pie and peach cobbler already done. It didn't matter that each of her printed recipes were already saved in a file on her computer and backed up on her cloud drive and that she still had them lovingly protected, each in its own sheet protector; she still took good care of her cookbook. Liv had been collecting her time-tested recipes in that book over the past ten years. She would not let it get ruined.

Oven off and satisfied with her work, she could relax for a moment. Although it was only a small gathering at her parents' apartment that evening — neighbors, old friends, and a few of Dad's best work colleagues — Liv knew that one pie wouldn't have been enough to satisfy the crowd. With that in mind, though it was a workday, she'd decided to make multiple pies to supplement the store-bought cake that her mother was providing. Besides, knowing her mom and her famous open-door policy, you never knew who would show up.

"Absolutely delicious." Damon's voice was a slow, deep drawl as he came into the kitchen and wrapped his strong arms around Liv's waist.

"Are you talking about the way my pies look, or should I take that as a personal compliment?" Liv said, turning to look him in the eyes.

Damon gave her one of his alluring half smiles as his gaze went from her eyes to her lips. But instead of kissing her lips, he bent and kissed her lightly on her neck, she assumed not wanting to get any of her freshly applied lipstick smudged onto him. He hated getting mussed up before work.

"Why can't I be talking about both?" he replied.

Liv shook her head and gave Damon a light nudge against his chest. "You really are a smooth talker. If I didn't know you so well, I'd be a little suspicious."

"Now, there you go with that acute skepticism of yours. Why can't you just smile and take a compliment, woman?" Damon's half grin went up to include both sides of his mouth. "You know you are delicious. As a matter of fact, everything you are, everything you touch, is delicious. Now, why don't you be a peach and share a little bit of that cobbler with me?"

Liv fought back a blush. She'd always found it slightly difficult to take compliments from Damon, not that he was overflowing with them, from him they were rare. Still, she wasn't good at taking them from him, or anyone for that matter, a man especially. Sure, she knew that there was nothing wrong with her, and when she pulled herself together right, she was downright passable in a blending-in type of way. But someone to gush over? Not with her slightly too far apart eyes, and lips that took up too much of her face. Add to that hips and thighs that no amount of squats could seem to slim down, and well, yeah, Liv had a hard time believing Damon and all his extravagant talk. But still, she tried to play it cool. A man like Damon — tall, dark, and, yes, quite handsome — wouldn't find lack of confidence a virtue in a woman. Not many men did. So she'd learned early on to fake what she'd lacked as best as she could.

"No way on the pie, mister," Liv said, making her voice stern, but still playful. "These will all go to my parents for my father's party tonight, as you very well know, since you'll be meeting me there at seven." Liv leaned in to Damon, looking up, giving him her version of her own sly grin as she ran a finger along his smooth, brown cheek. "But no worries. If you're on your best behavior tonight, I have my own sweet treats in mind for you later."

There was the slightest hint of tension that emanated from Damon then, along with the tiniest shift in his eyes. It was so slight that Liv convinced herself that it didn't happen. That she didn't see that small action she'd grown to know was Damon's way of burying something he didn't want to deal with in the moment. And just then she had her own feeling of apprehension. Liv swallowed and made her smile just a little brighter. Nope. It was nothing; she knew she was overreacting. Things were just a little tense, as they were bound to be in any relationship that had reached the nine-month point as theirs had, and the façade of putting on the best face was starting to wear down.

"Fine," he said with a half grin. "None for me means none for you, too. Remember you promised you'd start working out with me anyway. We both don't need the extra calories."

Liv pushed down on her immediate feeling of embarrassment over his comment and let her eyes shift to the old clock above the windowsill. "You better get a move on, Damon. It's starting to get late, and don't you have that early breakfast meeting with new clients?"

Just as she thought, the idea of bringing up business pulled Damon up short and brought him into his usual sharp focus. A marketing analyst for an up-and- coming firm, Liv initially met Damon at one of those usually dull, corporate meet and greets where she was representing her firm as their strategic corporate analyst. One glimpse of Damon, though, and the night instantly brightened up. Sure, she knew he immediately pegged her as a potential business mark, but when he realized he wouldn't be able to sell her on anything his firm had to offer, he switched tactics and went to selling her on himself.

Damon being Damon, he never let anything stand in the way of business. Leaning back, he flipped his wrist, checking the time on his watch that did so much more than just keep time. "Crap, you're right." Damon gave Liv a scowl. "Baby, you knew how important this morning was. Why are you letting me go on so that I'm late? You know how unpredictable the subways can be."

And this is my fault? Liv thought. He was the one who came into her kitchen. Besides, a grown man should be able to tell the time. But Liv kept these thoughts to herself. No need to rock the boat and put him in a bad mood, possibly knocking him off his game when he had important business to take care of. She gave Damon a soft smile. "I guess I just couldn't resist you. I'm sorry that you have to get going. I know you're going to hit it out of the park today, as you always do. I'll see you later tonight."

But Damon was already reaching for his briefcase and heading for the door by the time Liv finished her sentence. All she got was a wave and the click of her apartment door behind him as a response. With a resigned breath, Liv checked the clock once again as she went to cover her pies to ready them for her pickup later in the evening. "I better get a move on myself. Shoot, he's talking about me making him late, what about him making me late?" She gave her head a small shake, whipping off her...