Winning the Single Mum's Heart

“Smart mom.” He sipped, eyes twinkling at her over the rim.

To settle her jitters, Natalie grabbed the bowl of frosting and got back to work. “I hope you don’t mind but I have a cake to decorate. The customer’s coming for it tonight at six.”

“Can I help?”

The idea of pediatric surgeon Cooper Sullivan helping her decorate anything brought a giggle. “You can taste the icings for me.”

Both eyebrows shot up hopefully. “As in more than one?”

“Uh-huh. Six or eight. I haven’t decided yet. I’m creating as I go. My friend Julie is getting married and we’re planning a big fancy bash. I’m creating something special just for her.” She shoved a tasting spoon toward him. “Try this. Too sweet? Enough vanilla bean? Be honest now.”

He took the spoon and nibbled, rolling the thick, creamy frosting around his mouth as he would a good sip of wine. After serious consideration, a stunning smile broke over his face. Oh, my. All her head alarms started going off. He was too hunky, too close, too everything.

“This is awesome,” he said around that dazzling smile. “Julie, whoever she is, will love it.”

It was only cake icing, something she made all the time, but his compliment thrilled her unduly. “Then try this other one.”

“Let me clear my palate with coffee.”

She widened her eyes at him and giggled. “By all means, clear the palate.”

She shoved a second and then a third type of frosting in his direction. He made silly, witty, and astute comments, always asking for just one more teeny bite. Taste testing with Cooper was far more fun than the frequent tastings she forced upon the other Belles.

“You know what would be even better?” he said after the third opinion was issued.

“What? Orange peel? Lemon zest?”

His grin teased. “Cake. You could run a little cake under these frostings and let me try again. I promise to give a learned, if somewhat biased, opinion.”

She’d forgotten what a fun guy Cooper could be, so different from his serious physician side. Her alarms stopped clanging. There was nothing threatening about an old friend having cake in her kitchen. She needed to get over herself.

“Let him eat cake,” she proclaimed dramatically and opened the holding bin to display rows and rows of tiny bite-size cakes. “These are fresh, made for brides to taste test next week. I always take extras for the other Belles.”

“What kind of bells are we talking about here? Jingle bells? Church bells? And they eat cake?”

With a lifter, she scooped several cake bites onto a saucer. “My coworkers. We’re called the Belles, as in Wedding Bells but with a Southern flair. The other girls serve as my official testers since I can’t try the sweets myself.”

“Brutal if you ask me, to be a cake maker who can’t eat cake. Why didn’t you become something less tempting?”

“Long story.”

He shrugged a sweater-clad shoulder. “I have time.”

“No surgery today? I thought surgeons worked day and night.”

“Only by choice. The brutal days are in residency. Once in private practice we get to have lives. At least within reason.”

For a minute the words stabbed like pinpricks. Justin had never made it this far. He’d never had time for a regular life. He’d worked such crazy hours and even when he could have been sleeping, he’d chosen to ride his motorcycle or play golf or sail. If he got three hours of sleep out of twenty-four, he considered himself rested. Now she knew how foolish that idea had been. He’d been running on three hours sleep the day he’d missed that stop sign.

“When Justin died, I needed a way to support myself and the twins so I started baking cakes.”

“You never finished your degree?”

“No.” Much to her regret, she’d quit college to take a minimum-wage job when she and Justin had first married. Then when his residency had begun, she’d gotten pregnant. When her diabetes had gone crazy and landed her on bed rest to save the twins, Justin had freaked out. She’d been scared, too, and wanted to stay home with her babies. “When the girls were two, I convinced Justin to let me take a cake decorating class.”

“Convinced him?”

“Oh, he didn’t mind if I had a hobby, but he worried about my health. Afraid I couldn’t handle the load because of my sometimes unpredictable diabetes.” She grimaced at the sad irony. “He’d be surprised at how wrong he was.”

Cooper propped a hip on her kitchen counter and looked at her for a long moment. In a quiet voice he asked, “Have things been that difficult for you?”

The kindness in his tone rattled her. Normally she didn’t share her worries with anyone but Regina or Belle. “A little.”

“What about Justin’s insurance?”

She scooted the saucer across the countertop.

“He didn’t have any.”

Cooper’s long, talented fingers paused on an inch cube of Italian cream cake. “None?”

“He kept intending to get some. After he died I found an application on his desk.” She shrugged one shoulder. It was all a moot point now.

“That sucks.”

At the blunt and un-Cooperlike assessment, she smiled. “I think I may have said that a few million times in the past two years.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Cooper reached across the narrow space between them and tilted her chin, meeting her gaze with his earnest one. “I’m really sorry, Nat. Justin was a good man. He wouldn’t have done anything to purposely hurt you. He was crazy about you.”

Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. She’d long since passed the point of unquenchable grief, and most of the time she was just plain mad at Justin for having left her alone. But Cooper’s compassion was both unexpected and touching.

“Crazy being the operative word,” she murmured, trying to keep her mind on the conversation and off the warm strength of Cooper’s fingers. Off the random thought that she could smell his cologne. Off the reminder that she’d once entertained romantic thoughts about him.

Something shifted in the caramel-scented air. Cooper pushed away from the counter, eyes never leaving her face.

Her heart set up a thunder dance, and her mind raced like two hamsters on a Ferris wheel. What was he doing? Why was he moving toward her with that wild glint in his eyes? Was he going to hug her? Comfort her? Kiss her?

Before she could find out, a feral growl from somewhere behind them ripped through the kitchen.

CHAPTER THREE

COOPER whirled around at a sudden noise from behind him. A puck-faced child with teeth bared catapulted toward him, growling like a doberman.

“Rose!” Natalie stepped smoothly between him and the ponytailed stick of dynamite.

The little girl’s eyes slanted in menace. “Puppy’s going to bite him.”

“Puppy is going back in your room right now if he can’t behave himself. Dr. Sullivan is a guest and neither you nor Puppy is going to bite him.” Natalie grabbed the child’s hand and pulled her forward. “You owe Dr. Sullivan an apology.”