The Little Brooklyn Bakery: A heartwarming feel good novel full of cakes and romance!

‘So English, how are you finding Brooklyn?’ He leaned forward on the back of the chair, focusing all his attention on her as if he really wanted to know. She had the feeling it was a practised move, that came as easily to him as breathing.

‘It’s Sophie, and I’ve only just arrived, so I’ve not had a chance to find anything yet.’ Her words sounded stiff and starchy.

He leaned forward and pulled her notes and map towards him. ‘Bergen Street. The F line 47th/50th.’

‘Sorry?’ Hell, she sounded even more prim and prissy.

He simply grinned. ‘The route to work. That’s what you were looking up, weren’t you?’

Was he some sort of mind reader? She frowned.

‘You’re doing the job swap with Brandi. I suggested Bella’s place when they let the other girl’s place go. Man, bad luck her breaking her leg, but lucky for you, I guess. Never thought they’d get someone to fill the post, that quickly. Were you second pick or something?’

‘Something,’ snapped Sophie with uncharacteristic sharpness, stung that everyone would think she was second choice, when she didn’t want to come in the first place.

‘Hey!’ He held up his hands in quick surrender. ‘I’m not suggesting you’re not as good.’ Unexpected sympathy brimmed in his eyes, as if he knew it was more complicated than that. ‘The subway can be a bit confusing for a first-timer. Bergen Street is a couple of blocks away. I could show you after coffee.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘We’re going to be co-workers.’

‘What? You work at CityZen?’

‘Sure do.’ His eyes twinkled wickedly and he raised his eyebrows in suggestive challenge, ‘I write the Man About Town column.’

Clearly she was supposed to know about that. She should have checked out the magazine in advance, which is what a normal enthusiastic person, who’d been offered an amazing opportunity to come and work in the most exciting city in the world, would have done.

Suddenly she was sick of herself, sick of her seesawing emotions, sick of feeling sorry for herself and sick that James had done this to her. She’d spent her childhood rising above things, being sunny and positive despite everything her Dad’s ex-wife had thrown at their family. James was not going to take that away from her.

With a deliberately bright smile, she responded, ‘That sounds fun.’ As soon as she left here she would find the first newsagents (didn’t they call them newsstands here?) and pick up a copy of CityZen.

‘Oh it is.’ Those film-star teeth flashed again, although did she imagine it, or did the smile not quite reach his eyes? She got the impression he’d said it many times. ‘When you love your work, it doesn’t feel like work.’

‘I’ll second that,’ said Bella, sliding a tall glass of iced coffee in front of him. ‘That’ll be four dollars.’

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills, like tissues, handing one to her before swiping another taste of frosting from the cake.

‘Oy, get your own.’ Sophie tapped his hand smartly and moved the plate closer to her side of the table.

‘You’re no fun, English,’ he moaned, taking his time, licking the big dollop of frosting from his finger. ‘Man, this is good.’ He shot Sophie a sudden, horrified, disapproving look, ‘Please tell me you’re not a crazy person who considers her body a temple and thinks sugar is sin.’ With a surreptitious glance out the window, he added, ‘There are way too many of them in Brooklyn already. The soya-and-sushi sisterhood. All quinoa and chia seeds.’

Sophie burst out laughing, finally succumbing. It wasn’t his fault that she currently hated the world in general. ‘I’m definitely not a crazy person.’

‘Damn, and here was I hoping to guilt you into handing over the cake.’

‘No way.’ She put her arms protectively around the plate. ‘I love my food.’ With a rueful smile, she added, ‘A bit too much.’

Shamelessly he gave her body a once up and down, his eyes dancing with appreciation and merriment. ‘Not from here, you don’t.’

With a ladylike snort, she ignored the faint blush that stole along her cheeks, knowing better than to take him seriously. She’d got his measure. This was one man you should never take seriously and you’d be a fool if you did. And she was not going to be a fool again. Ever.

‘I have to run a lot to balance it all out.’ At least she’d packed her trainers, if not a sports bra. ‘Bella was right, you are bad news, aren’t you? But I appreciate the thought.’ She was never going to be stick thin, but who wanted to be like that if you were miserable and starving? Regular running kept her between a size twelve and fourteen.

He grinned, unrepentant, and for a second their eyes met. She grinned back at him and picked up the cake, taking a large deliberate bite.

‘Ouch, I felt that.’

‘You were supposed to. Mmm, it’s delicious.’

‘Sure you can eat all of that? It’s a mighty big cake. Lots of calories.’

With a deliberate lick of her lips, ignoring the hopeful expression on his face, she savoured the tangy citrus sweetness of the frosting around her mouth, sighed heavily and gave him a smug look. ‘Oh yes, I’m going to enjoy every last one of them.’

‘You’re heartless, English. Heartless.’ He shook his head in mock sorrow, his lips curving in shared amusement.

‘You’d better believe it,’ she said, taking another thoughtful bite of the soft sponge, enjoying the exchange and ignoring the little butterfly-like flutters dancing in the pit of her stomach. Nothing to see here, she told herself firmly. Good looking, charming and totally shallow, light-hearted fun and nothing more. It was a while since she’d flirted with anyone and it felt rather liberating, especially when it didn’t mean a thing.

‘So, Mr Man About Town, can you fill me in on the local neighbourhood? I need to find somewhere to buy bed linen and towels.’ She paused. ‘Although maybe you’re not the best person to ask.’

‘Excuse me.’ He pointed to himself with his thumbs. ‘Man About Town. In touch with my feminine side.’

‘Really?’ She gave him a direct look.

‘And no, I’m not gay.’

‘I never said a word.’

‘It’s an inevitable side-effect of working on a women’s magazine. You absorb shopping stuff by osmosis. If you want serious thread count – see, I know this stuff – Nordstrom Rack for quality and discount, or T.J.Maxx for discount and a free for all. Just a couple of blocks away on Fulton Street. Here, let me mark on the map for you.’

‘I need to find a supermarket too, to buy …’ she couldn’t quite bring herself to say ‘groceries’.

‘A supermarket.’ He pursed his lips around the word, lifting the smooth column of his throat. ‘Jeez, I love how you say that, it’s so prim and proper.’ He grinned recklessly again. ‘Kinda sexy.’

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the thought that someone must have invented the word for him. ‘You need to get out more.’

He laughed and scooted his chair closer to hers, pulling open the map. ‘Here, got a pen? I’ll mark a couple of grocery stores for you.’

‘I don’t have a pen.’

‘Here you go.’ He rooted in the canvas-and-leather man bag slung over his shoulder. Of course he had a man bag, he was so a man bag sort of man.

‘Associated Supermarkets on Fifth and Union Street is good. Not the nearest, but definitely one of the nicer ones. Turn right out of here, go down Union Street and then it’s a good six blocks but worth it. I’m guessing you can cook if you’re the new food columnist. I’ll have to get you to cook dinner some time, as we’re practically neighbours.’

She raised a single eyebrow at his casual assumption, a trick she was inordinately proud of. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, before adding just as he took a sip of coffee, ‘and you can do my washing.’

With a choked laugh, he nearly spluttered his drink all over the table. ‘I like you, English. Funny girl. We’re going to get on just fine.’

Sophie gave him a considering look.

‘Come on.’ He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. ‘I’ll show you the way to the subway station and then from there you can walk on down to Fulton Street, to get your home wares. We’ll take a rain check on dinner as I’m sure you want to get settled. And I doubt you’ve got any laundry yet …’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘And you do know washing in the States is something completely different?’

As she put her hand in his, there was no little frisson of electricity, no gentle sizzle between them, no … a bloody great thunderbolt of lust that almost floored her. Todd McLennan was more than bad news, he was the sort of news that she needed to stay well, well away from.