Free Friends with Benefits by Vanessa Devereaux

 

     
     

     
     
     
     
    Sometimes friends do the nicest things. Take for example my BFF, Shannon.
    Shannon was supposed to teach Introduction to Baking at the local cooking school but got a better offer a week before the class was scheduled to begin. Who could pass up an offer to cater to the rich and famous in the Hamptons? I know I wouldn’t have done.
    “You couldn’t step in and teach the class for me?” she’d asked me over coffee.
    “I shouldn’t because you won’t learn about biting off more than you can chew. You do that a lot.”
    “Now that comment sounds like you’re going to do it.”
    “Just this once. And if you attend any parties while you’re there I want photos sent ASAP.”
    I’d agreed to take over the class for her before it had really sunk in that I’d be expected to teach the fine art of baking for a whole month. Three days before the class began I’d overdosed on the Food Network and slept with every food magazine in existence under my pillow. By the time the first class rolled around my stomach was doing flips and my knees shook. I hoped I wouldn’t screw up in front of everyone.
    Seemed if I did mess up it would only be a bunch of middle-aged women who’d know about it. I watched as they piled into the room and took their seats. I glanced at the clock: almost 7 p.m. and time to start the first lesson.
    “Good evening, everyone. My name’s Ashley James and I’ll be your instructor for this baking class. Tonight I’ll be showing you how to make a basic yellow cake with chocolate frosting. All your ingredients and bowls are in front of you on your table so you can follow along. And don’t be afraid to stop me…”
    I quit my lecture in mid-sentence as a man in his early thirties walked in.
    “Don’t be afraid…”
    I tried my best to go on but I couldn’t stop staring at him and every single thing I was about to say vanished from my head. All I could do was focus on him. Six feet, broad shoulders, muscular, dark hair, green eyes, dimples…shit, shit, shit, a gold wedding band.
    He looked at me as he perched himself on a stool in the front row. The only student in that row, in fact. My mouth was dry but my panties weren’t. I closed my eyes.
    Get it together because he’s a student, he’s married, and you have a class to teach.
    I opened them. He was still staring at me.
    “Sorry I’m late,” he finally said.
    “No problem because I’d only just got started.”
    My words sounded slurred as I began telling the class about the best type of flour and fat to use. My heart beat faster and my hands started to sweat as the students dived into the hands-on part of the evening. I took a drink of water and started walking around the classroom to check on everyone’s progress. I hoped that would calm my fears.
    “How are you doing?” I asked the guy in the front row.
    He looked up and smiled.
    “I don’t think any of the bakeries in the area need to worry about me taking customers away,” he said.
    “I’m Ashley James by the way. You missed my introduction.”
    “Andy Logan.”
    He attempted to shake my hand but his was covered in flour and butter.
    “How about I use my left one?”
    I grabbed it, noticing the ring looked worn around the edges. He’d probably been married for some time. Happily, most likely. All the good-looking ones always were.
    “I’d take your ring off if I was you,” I suggested. “It might get lost or gooey. You wouldn’t want to ruin it.”
    That had sounded almost bitchy and I wasn’t usually like that—was I? I suppose it was the frustration of being this close to a man I was very attracted to, would love to get into bed with, but knew was off limits.
    He took the ring off and set it down in front of the mixing bowl.
    “Ms. James, will you be checking on us or do men fare better in this class? You’ve been with that student for over ten minutes.”
    I looked up and there in the back row stood a lady with dark hair, her hands on