Single Mum Seeking...
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“Maybe days,” he added to the optimism, but she laughed.
“Doubtful. Besides, we’ll miss them if they stay away that long.”
“Will we?” he questioned, but he was smiling. He believed her.
She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time for a nice long lunch,” she said. “Maybe fifteen whole minutes. Those cakes have to be delivered by noon, but the church hall where they’re going is only two blocks away. So let’s sit down and enjoy a break.”
She watched as he settled in across from her and began to eat his sandwich. She was so glad he’d talked her into letting him stay to help. Without him, she would surely be chasing her children up and down the stairs by now, with cakes burning in the background. She raised her glass of iced tea at him.
“To Connor McNair, life saver,” she said. “Hip, hip, hooray.”
He laughed. “Your Bundt cakes aren’t all out of the fire yet,” he told her with a crooked grin. “Don’t count your chickens too soon.”
“Of course not. I just wanted to acknowledge true friendship when it raises its furry head.”
He shook his head and had to admit it was almost as covered with curls as hers. “Anytime,” he told her, then tried to warble it as a tune. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”
Her gaze caught his and she smiled and whispered, “Don’t get cocky, kid.”
His gaze deepened. “Why not?” he whispered back. “What’s the fun of life if you don’t take chances?”
She held her breath. For just a few seconds, something electric seemed to spark between them. And then it was gone, but she was breathing quickly.
“Chances. Is that what you call it?” she said, blinking a bit.
He nodded. “Chances between friends. That’s all.”
She frowned at him. “Some friend. Where were you to stop me from marrying Brad?”
The look in his face almost scared her. She’d meant it in a lighthearted way, but being casual about a subject that cut so deep into her soul didn’t really work. Emotions were triggered. Her joke had fallen flat.
“I tried,” he said gruffly, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.
He was kidding—wasn’t he?
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to ignore the trembling she heard in her own voice.
He leaned back in his chair but his gaze never left hers. “Remember? The night before your wedding.”
She thought back. “Yes. Wait. You didn’t even go to the bachelor party.”
He snorted. “I went. Hell, I was hosting it.” He seemed uncomfortable. “But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take all the celebration.”
“Oh.”
“So I went off and left all those happy guys to their revelry. I got a bottle of Scotch and took it to a sandy beach I knew of.”
She nodded slowly, thinking back. “As I remember it, you were pretty tanked when you showed up at my apartment.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes. Yes, I was. I was a tortured soul.”
“Really? What were you so upset about that night?”
He stared at her. Couldn’t she guess? Was she really so blind? He’d been out of his head with agony that night. He knew what a wonderful girl Jill was, knew it and loved her for it. And he knew Brad wasn’t going to make her happy. But how could he tell her that? How could he betray a friend?
The problem was, he had to betray one of them. They were both his best friends and he couldn’t stand to see them getting married. And at the same time, he didn’t think he should interfere. It was their decision. Their misfortune. Their crazy insane absolutely senseless leap into the brave unknown.
But he knew a thing or two, didn’t he? He knew some things he was pretty sure she didn’t know. But how could he hurt her with them? How could he explain to her about all the times Brad had cheated on her in the years they’d all been friends?
She would chalk it up to pure jealousy, and in a way, she would have been right. He was jealous. He wanted her. He knew Brad didn’t value her enough. He knew Brad didn’t deserve her. But how could he tell her that? How could he tell her the truth without ending up with her despising him more than she now did Brad? If she really did.
Besides, what could he offer her in place of her romance with Brad? He wasn’t even sure he would ever be ready for any sort of full-time, long-term relationship. Every now and then he thought he’d conquered his background and the wariness he felt. But then he would see examples among his friends that just brought it back again. Could you trust another human in the long run? Was it worth the effort, just to be betrayed in the end?
And so—the Scotch. The alcohol was supposed to give him the courage to do what had to be done. But it didn’t work that way. It made him sick instead, and he babbled incoherently once he had Jill’s attention. She never understood what he was trying to say.
He couldn’t even tell her now. She’d asked him a direct question. What was he so upset about that night? And still, he couldn’t tell her the truth.
Because I knew you were marrying the wrong man. You should have been marrying me.
Reaching out, he caught her hand and looked deep into her eyes.
“Jill, tell me what you want. What you need in your life to be happy.”
She stared back at him, and he waited, heart beating a fast tattoo on his soul.
“Connor,” she began, “I... I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but I...”
But then she shook her head and the timer went off and they both rose to check the cakes. Whatever she’d been about to say was lost in a cloud of the aroma of delicious confections.
* * *
The last full-size cakes came out and were set to cool and they began to fill the large mini Bundt cake pans. Twelve little cakes per pan. And each had to be filled to exactly the same level.
“They’ll take about fifteen to twenty minutes,” she told him nervously. “Then the ovens have to be back up to temperature before we put the next batch in. If we time it right, we might just make it. But it’s going to be close.”
One hundred and ten little cakes, she thought with a tiny surge of hysteria. Oh, my!
Connor left to deliver some of the full-size cakes. Jill checked on the babies. They were still sleeping in their travel cribs. She was thankful for that. Back to the kitchen, she began to prepare the rectangular boxes with the small dividers she was going to put the mini cakes in once they were ready to go. Then Connor was back and they pulled a batch out.
“These are perfect,” she said with a sigh of relief. “You get the next batch ready. I’ll make the Limoncello glaze.”
They both had their eyes on the clock. Time seemed to go so quickly. Minutes seemed to evaporate into thin air. Jill was moving as fast as she could.
And then the phone started ringing. People who hadn’t had their deliveries yet were wondering why.
“We’re working as fast as we can,” she told them. “Please, every minute I spend on the phone means your cake will get there that much later.”
It was starting to feel hopeless. A batch overflowed its pan and they had to pull it out, clean up the mess and start again. She mixed up three batches of glaze and accidentally knocked them over onto the floor. That had to be done again.
And the clock was ticking.
She felt as though the beating of her heart was a clock, racing her, mocking her, letting her know she wasn’t going to make it. Biting her lip, she forced back that feeling and dug in even harder.
“Last batch going in,” Connor called.
She hurried over to see if it was okay. It was fine. Connor was turning out to be a godsend.
It was almost time. The phone rang. It was the Garden Club wondering where their cake was.
“Their party isn’t until seven tonight,” she said in full annoyance mode. “Can’t they wait?”
“I’ll run it over,” Connor offered.
“You will not,” she told him. “The engagement party is next. We have to deliver to them by five or we will have failed.”
The twins woke up and were cranky. Connor tried to entertain them but there was very little hope. They wanted their mother.
Jill had to leave Connor alone with the cakes while she cuddled her boys and coaxed them into a better mood. She knew they needed her and she loved them to pieces, but all the while she felt time passing, ticking, making her crazy. She had to get back to the cakes.
Connor had his own problems. His phone was vibrating every fifteen minutes. Every call was from Brad. He knew that without even checking. He had no intention of answering the phone, but every time it began to move, he had that sinking feeling again.
Brad. Why couldn’t he just disappear?
Instead he was texting. Connor didn’t read the texts. There was no point to it. He knew what they said.
Brad wanted answers. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to get the latest scoop on Jill. All things Connor had no intention of giving him. But knowing Brad, that wasn’t going to satisfy him. He was going to intrude, one way or another. And he wouldn’t wait long to make his influence felt. Connor looked at his phone. If only there was some way to cut the link to Brad and his expectations.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS TIME. They had to move. But the twins wouldn’t stop clinging to Jill.
Connor had an idea. He brought in a huge plastic tub he found in the garage, placing it in an empty corner of the kitchen, far from the oven and the electric appliances. Using a large pitcher, he put a few inches of barely warm water in the bottom.
“Hey kids,” he called to them. “Want to go swimming?”
He didn’t have to offer twice. They were excited, getting into their swimsuits and finding swim toys. Jill could get back to packing up her cakes and Connor could supervise the play area while he worked on glazing at the same time.
The long, rectangular boxes were filled with cakes for the Jamison engagement party. It was time to go. Connor packed them into Jill’s van and took off. Jill sat down beside the tub of water to watch her boys pretend to swim and she felt tears well up in her eyes. They had made it. Now—as long as they didn’t poison everyone at the engagement party, things would calm down. There were still a few cakes to deliver, but nothing was the hectic job the engagement party had been. She’d come through. And she couldn’t have done it without Connor.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged tightly. “Thank you, Connor,” she whispered to the kitchen air. “You saved my life. I think I love you.”
And she did. Didn’t she? She always had. Not the way she loved Brad. But Brad was always such a problem and Connor never was.
She remembered when Brad had been the coolest guy around. The guy everyone looked up to, the hunk every girl wanted to be with. He drove the coolest convertible, had the best parties, knew all the right people. At least, that was the way it seemed back then. And he had chosen her. It was amazing how much you could grow up in just a few years and learn to see beyond the facade.
“Cool” didn’t mean much when you had babies to feed in the middle of the night. And it only got in the way when it was time to separate your real friends from the posers. Back then, she’d been a pretty rotten judge of character. She’d improved. She had a better idea of what real worth was.
A half hour later, Connor was back. She rose to meet him, ready to ask him how it went, but he didn’t give her time to do that. Instead he came right for her, picked her up and swung her around in a small celebratory dance.
“You did it,” he said, smiling down into her face. “The cakes are delivered and the customer is in awe. You met the challenge. Congrats.”
“We did it, you mean,” she said, laughing as he swung her around again. “Without you, all would be lost right now.”
He put her down and shrugged. “What do we still have to get delivered?” he asked. “I want to get this job over with so we can relax.” He looked down at the boys, still splashing about in the water. “Hey, guys. How are you doing?”
Timmy laughed and yelled something incomprehensible, and Tanner blew bubbles his way.
“Great,” Connor said back, then looked at Jill. “Your orders, mon chef?” he asked.
“We do have two deliveries left,” she said. “The last cakes are baking right now. We should be ready to call it a day in about an hour. Can you make it until then?”
“Only if I get a fair reward,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you offering?”
“I’ve got nothing,” she said, making a face. “Unless you’ll take kisses.”
She was teasing, just having fun, but it hit him like a blow to the heart. “Kisses are my favorite,” he told her gruffly, his eyes darkening.
She saw that, but it didn’t stop her. Reaching up, she planted a kiss on his mouth, then drew back and laughed at him.
He laughed back, but his pulse was racing. “Hey, I’ll work for those wages any day,” he told her, and then he had to turn away. There was a longing welling up in him. He’d felt it before and he knew what it was.
He’d been yearning for Jill since the day he met her. His own background and emotional hiccups had worked against him letting her know over that first year, and by the time he actually knew what he wanted, Brad had taken over, and it was too late.
“What kind of glaze are we putting on these last cakes?” he asked her.
Jill didn’t answer right away. She’d seen the look that had come over his face, noticed his reaction to her friendly kiss. For some reason, her heart was beating in a crazy way she wasn’t used to.
“Those get a rum caramel with roasted chopped pecans sprinkled on top,” she said at last.
They worked on it together, but there was a new feeling between them, a sort of sense of connection, that hadn’t been there before. And she had to admit, she rather liked it.
He took out the last deliveries and stopped to pick up a pizza on his way home. She had the boys dried and put into their pajamas by then. They got their own special meals and then were put into the playroom to play quietly and get ready for bed. Jill set out the pizza on the kitchen table and she and Connor ate ravenously.
“Wow,” he said with a groan. “What a day. I’ve worked in a lot of places, but I’ve never been put through the wringer like I was today.”
“You did great,” she responded. “I couldn’t have met the deadlines without you.”
He sighed. “What’s the outlook for tomorrow?”
Tomorrow? She hadn’t allowed herself to think that far ahead. Was he going to leave tonight? She didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to be making any of the pertinent preparations. And if he stayed tonight, what about tomorrow? Would he stay then, too? Should she let him?
“Just a couple of orders,” she said. “And then, for the rest of the week, not a thing.”
“Oh.” He looked at her with a guilty grimace. “Uh, maybe you’d better take a look at some of the orders I took over the phone today. I wrote them down somewhere.”
That started a mad scramble to locate the paper he’d written them down on.
“I have to set up a system,” she muttered once they’d found it. “What if you’d gone and never told me about these?”
Gone? Where was he going?
Their gazes met and the question was there and neither of them wanted to answer it.
She looked at him, at his handsome face, his strong shoulders, and she felt a wave of affection. There was no one else she would have rather spent this day with. It had to be him.
She stopped in front of him and smiled, putting a hand flat on his chest. “Thank you,” she said solemnly. “I can never stop thanking you enough. You really did make the difference today.”
He didn’t smile, but there was a dark, cloudy look in his eyes and he put his own hand over hers. “I wish I could do more,” he said, and she could have sworn his voice cracked a little.
She shook her head, wishing she had the right to kiss him the way you would a lover. “You saved me from the nightmares,” she murmured.
He frowned. “What nightmares.”
She shrugged, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “Sometimes I have this dream where I’m all alone on an island that’s being attacked by huge black birds. They look sort of like vultures. They peck away at me. I run and run and they swoop down. Every time I turn to fight one off, others attack from behind me.” She shuddered.
His hand tightened over hers. “Bummer.”
She tried to smile but her lips were trembling. “No kidding.”
“Hey.” He leaned forward and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “I had a dream about birds last night, too. Only my dream was about a beautiful huge white bird with lacy wings. I was desperately trying to catch her. And you know what? That bird was you.”
She smiled, enchanted, and he kissed her again. “Connor,” she whispered warningly, trying to draw back, and a shout from one of the boys gave her statement emphasis. He straightened and watched as she left him.
* * *
They both went up to put the boys to bed.
“They’re just going to climb out of these cribs again,” Connor whispered to her.
“Shh. Don’t remind them of the possibilities.”
They covered the boys and turned out the lights and left, hoping for the best.
“How about a glass of wine?” he asked her.
She hesitated, knowing it would put her right to sleep. “I’d better not,” she said. “But you go ahead.”
The phone rang. She sighed. She was completely exhausted and ready to go to bed early and try to recoup. Hopefully this wasn’t one of her friends asking about the date last night. She’d already ignored a couple of those calls on her cell. And if it was an order for a cake, she only hoped she would be able to get the facts straight.
“Hello?” she said, stifling a yawn. “Jill’s Cakes.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” said the lady on the other end of the line. “You’re there. Now please, please don’t tell me you’re closed for the night.”
Jill frowned. What the heck did that mean? Was it someone at the engagement party who thought some of their order was missing? Or something different? “Well, uh, we’re here and cleaning up but our workday is pretty much over. Was there something you needed?”
“Oh, Jill, this is Madeline Green,” she responded in a voice that could summon cows. “You know me from the church choir.”
“Of course.” She pulled the phone a bit away from her ear and glanced up at Connor who had come close and was listening. She gave him a shrug. “Nice to hear from you, Madeline.”
“Honey, listen. I’m here at the Elks lodge. We’ve had a disaster. Our caterer has failed us. We have one hundred and two people here for dinner and we have no dessert.”
“Oh.” No. Her brain was saying, “No!” Her body was saying, “No!” “I see. Uh....maybe you should go out and buy some ice cream.”
“Impossible. We have to have a special dessert. It’s traditional. People expect it. This is Old Timers’ Night. Some only come to this annual award dinner because of the fancy desserts we usually serve. It’s everyone’s favorite part.”
“But you had some ordered?”
“Oh, yes. They never showed up. The caterer disavows all knowledge of what the pastry chef was up to. He washes his hands of it entirely.”
“I see.” Her brain was still shrieking, “No!”
“Have you tried the Swedish bakery?”
“They’re closed. In fact, everyone is closed. You’re our only hope.”
Jill blinked. “So you called everyone else first?”
“Well...”
“Never mind.” She made a face, but the lady couldn’t see it. She took a deep breath. “Madeline, I’m afraid we just can’t...”
Suddenly she was aware that Connor had grabbed her upper arm and was shaking her gently.
“Say ‘yes,’” he hissed at her intensely.
“What?” she mouthed back, covering the receiver with her hand. “Why?”
“Say ‘yes.’ Never ever say ‘no.’”
He meant it. She groaned.
“You’re trying to build up a reputation,” he whispered close to her ear. “You need to be the go-to person, the one they can always depend on. If you want to build your business up, you have to go the extra mile.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But she was so tired. She really didn’t want to do this.
“Say ‘yes’,” he insisted.
She was too limp to fight it. Uncovering the mouthpiece, she sighed and handed the phone to him. “You do it,” she said.
She turned around and looked at the mess they would have to wade through to get this done. Everything in her rebelled.
“You realize how many they need, don’t you?” she asked when Connor hung up.
“Yes. We can do it.”
“Can we? What makes you think you can say that?”
“I’ve seen you work. And I’m here to help you.”
She winced. “How long do we have?”
“One hour.”
Her mouth dropped open but no sound came out.
“Okay,” Connor said quickly, hoping to forestall any forecasts of doom. “Think fast. What do you make that cooks in less than an hour?”
She shrugged. She felt like a wrung-out rag. “Cookies.”
“Then we make cookies.”
She frowned. “But that’s not special.”
“It is the way we make them.” He looked at her expectantly. “What’ll we do?”
She looked at him and she had to smile, shaking her head. She knew he was as beat as she was, but the call for desserts seemed to have given him new life. “You’re the one who made the promises. You tell me.”
“Come on. What’s your signature cookie?”
She closed her eyes. “I’m too tired to think.”
“Me, too,” he agreed stoutly. “So we’ll go on instinct instead of brainpower.”
She began to laugh. This was all so ridiculous. They’d just produced more baked product than she’d ever done before in one day, and now they were going to do more? Impossible.
“Cookies?” he coaxed.
“I guess.”
They made cookies. Pecan lace cookies with a touch of cardamom, pressed together like sandwiches with mocha butter cream filling between them. Chocolate ganache on the base. A touch of white butter cream around the edges, like a lacy frill.
Connor used the mixer while Jill prepped the pans and got the chocolate ready to melt. Just as the first pan went into the oven, they heard the sound of giggling from the next room.
Jill looked at Connor. “Oh, no.”
He nodded. “They climbed out again. We should have known they would.” He looked at her. There was no time to spare and she was the chef. “I’ll take care of them,” he told her. “You just keep baking.”
It took a couple of minutes to catch the boys and carry them back up, and all the while, he was racking his brain to think of some way to keep them in their beds. There was only one idea that just might work, but he knew instinctively that Jill wasn’t going to like it. They didn’t have much choice. He was going to have to do it and deal with the consequences later.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BY THE TIME Connor got back to the kitchen, Jill had at least sixty cookies cooling and was beginning assembly of the desserts.
“I don’t hear the boys,” she said. “What did you do?”
“Don’t worry. I took care of it.”
She stopped and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You didn’t tie them up or anything like that, did you?”
“No, nothing like that. I’d show you, but right now, we’ve got to hurry with this stuff.”
She gave him a penetrating glance, but she was in the middle of the drizzle across the top of each confection and her attention got diverted.
“What do you think?” she asked him.
Connor looked the sample over with a critical eye.
“I don’t know. It still needs something. Something to make it look special.”
They both stared for a long sixty seconds.
“I know,” he said. “We’ve got plenty of buttercream left. Get your decorating thingamajig.”
“Why?”
“I’ve seen the flowers you can make with butter cream frosting. You’re going to make one hundred and two rose buds.”
“Oh.” She looked at the clock. “Do you really think we can get them out in time?”