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Cupcake Kissin’ 77 – Alex Ankarr
Leaving him stranded doing whatever – polishing the silverware, checking the crystallization on the sorbets – in the kitchen or the living area, with Mack hanging out there too. For no apparent reason, really. Not that Mack seems to mind. It’s just that Caspar has work to do, that’s all. (And secret cupcakes to keep hidden, for that matter. If he’s going to make a big thing out of Mack’s present, he needs it to be super duper incognito, that’s for sure.) Anyhow he keeps making his excuses, keeps getting the hell out of Dodge and getting the work done elsewhere. It’s just annoying, that’s all, the way that the staff that should really be under his thumb and doing his bidding, seem, somehow, some way, to be in league with Mack. Crazy, right?
He doesn’t mind flirty Mack. (God knows that he ought to be used to flirty Mack, at this stage in the game.) It’s just that, he has his present in mind, and he wants things in order, and… He wants it to be significant, he wants it to mean something. And to that end, he wants the space and privacy – and access to a staff that don’t go haring off in the opposite direction, every time that a hot well-fancied TV star winks at them and corners him on the edge of the kitchen – to get the job done, and make sure that everything runs smoothly, runs perfectly. Eventually, the last time that Mack corners him, catches him putting the bunting up on the huge and ornate balcony, he corners Mack right back. Let him see just how he likes it!
Well, actually he does seem to like it pretty well, to be perfectly honest. And Caspar is forced to laugh. He gets Mack up in the corner of the balcony with bunting wrapped around his midriff, and Mack only smiles and leans in, leans down, as Caspar tries for the most severe look he can manage on his face. (It might possibly not be as severe as he could wish it, or as would be effective, against the cheeky, charming, sweetheart likes of Mack, at least.)
But Caspar mentally reminds himself that he needs to be very, very severe, and he wipes the smile off his own face – the answering smile, that he can’t quite prevent the beginnings of. And he prods Mack right in the chest, where he’s actually built like something between a truck and the smooth invulnerability of a turtle’s shell. (And Caspar tries not to shiver at that. It’s no good giving Mack yet more evidence about just how irresistible he is, and just how susceptible Caspar is to that gorgeousness. Although he thinks that Mack has a pretty good idea already, judging by that pleased smug look on his face.)
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014
No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.