Книга - The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane

The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane
Sheila Roberts


When it comes to men, sisters don't share!After a fake food poisoning incident in L.A., Bailey Sterling's dreams of becoming a caterer to the stars collapse faster than a oufflé. Now Bailey's face is in all the gossip rags and her business is in ruins. But the Sterling women close ranks and bring her back to Icicle Falls, where she'll stay with her sister Cecily.All goes well between the sisters until Bailey comes up with a new business idea - a tea shop on a charming street called Lavender Lane. She's going into partnership with Todd Black, who - it turns out - is the man Cecily's started dating. It looks to Cecily as if there's more than tea brewing in that cute little shop. And she's not please.Wait! Isn't Cecily seeing Luke Goodman? He's a widower with an adorable little girl, and yes, Cecily does care about him. But Todd's the one who sends her zing-o-meter off the charts. So now what? Should you have to choose between your sister and the man you love (or think you love)?Welcome to Icicle Falls, the town that will warm your heart.'Sheila Roberts makes me laugh. I read her books & come away hopeful and happy.' - bestselling romance author Debbie Macomber







When it comes to men, sisters don’t share!

After a fake food poisoning incident in L.A., Bailey Sterling’s dreams of becoming a caterer to the stars collapse faster than a soufflé. Now Bailey’s face is in all the gossip rags and her business is in ruins. But the Sterling women close ranks and bring her back to Icicle Falls, where she’ll stay with her sister Cecily.

All goes well between the sisters until Bailey comes up with a new business idea—a tea shop on a charming street called Lavender Lane. She’s going into partnership with Todd Black, who—it turns out—is the man Cecily’s started dating. It looks to Cecily as if there’s more than tea brewing in that cute little shop. And she’s not pleased.

Wait! Isn’t Cecily seeing Luke Goodman? He’s a widower with an adorable little girl, and yes, Cecily does care about him. But Todd’s the one who sends her zing-o-meter off the charts. So now what? Should you have to choose between your sister and the man you love (or think you love)?

www.SheilasPlace.com (http://www.SheilasPlace.com)


Praise for the novels of Sheila Roberts (#u41e1ead5-8ff4-59a5-a7f7-76ae0b53d248)

“This is an engrossing story with strong characters and arcs similar to Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove titles. The light romance, delicious descriptions of chocolate and recipes add to the flavor of Roberts’s promising new series.”

—Booklist on Better than Chocolate

“Strong and determined women wrapped up in sinful chocolate is the recipe for Roberts’s inspiring Life in Icicle Falls series starter.”

—RT Book Reviews on Better than Chocolate

“Homing in on issues many readers can identify with, Roberts’s women search for practical solutions to a common challenge with humor.”

—Publisher’s Weekly

“Within minutes of cracking open the book, my mood was lifted...the warm, glowing feeling it gave me lasted for days.”

—First for Women on The Snow Globe

“Her characters are warm and engaging, and their interactions are full of humor.”

—RT Book Reviews on Bikini Season

“An uplifting, charming, feel-good story.”

—Booklist on Angel Lane

“Will doubtless warm more than a few hearts.”

—Publishers Weekly on Angel Lane

“Love in Bloom is a wonderful story with characters so real and defined I feel like I am personally acquainted with them....There is humor and emotion in large quantities in this fantastic book that is next to impossible to put down. Kudos and a large bouquet of flowers to Sheila Roberts for giving us one of the best books of the year.”

—Fresh Fiction


The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane

Sheila Roberts






www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


For Jill, the next best thing to a sister


Dear Reader (#u41e1ead5-8ff4-59a5-a7f7-76ae0b53d248),

Thanks so much for joining me again in Icicle Falls. You’re just in time for summer fun with Bailey Sterling, who’s returning home to pick up the pieces of her life. Sadly, Bailey discovered that being a caterer to the stars in L.A. wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. So when the going gets tough the tough get going...back home to family and friends and new beginnings.

And speaking of new beginnings, Bailey’s sister Cecily is working on some herself—with Todd Black, the sexy owner of The Man Cave. Everything is going smoothly, or so it seems, until her baby sister hits town and decides to open a tea shop on Lavender Lane. Suddenly, Bailey’s new business takes an interesting turn, while Cecily’s well-planned life takes a nosedive, thanks to small-town complications and unexpected sibling rivalry.

But I have a feeling everything will work out here in Icicle Falls. Meanwhile, I hope you’ll brew yourself a cup of tea, enjoy a scone and join my friends on their newest adventure here in my favorite mountain town.

Please check out my website, www.sheilasplace.com (http://www.sheilasplace.com), for information on upcoming books, contests, recipes and more. And I’d be delighted if you followed me on Twitter and Facebook (look for Sheila Roberts, author).

Sheila


Contents

Cover (#uea1d16b7-c7ba-53db-b007-f8df965bf1d2)

Back Cover Text (#ua488686a-d735-5934-bbda-14ce6f2bd3c8)

Praise

Title Page (#ua127a552-f9ff-538d-a666-20b043be3021)

Dedication (#u32e2a415-57b5-55a4-822f-75794c74ab81)

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

A Little About Tea

Acknowledgments

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u41e1ead5-8ff4-59a5-a7f7-76ae0b53d248)

The party was going perfectly until the hostess clutched her stomach with an agonized cry and crumpled to the floor.

Rory Rourke, her boyfriend and star of the new TV series Man Handled, knelt by the woman’s side and barked, “Someone, call 911.”

“Call her doctor,” said someone else.

“Call the Star Reporter,” the victim said faintly.

And that was when Bailey Sterling knew she was in trouble.

She’d been so excited to land this gig catering Samba Barrett’s party. Samba wasn’t an Emma Stone or Kristen Stewart, but she was...someone. Sort of. And with her catlike green eyes and red hair, she was on her way up, like the rest of her party guests. It was what everyone said. And surely that had meant Bailey was on her way up, too. The West Hollywood apartment had been packed with hot young actors and actresses. As she’d slipped among them bearing trays of goodies, she’d heard more than one person rave about the food and had envisioned a whole string of catering gigs after this one.

The shrimp salsa in phyllo cups had been an especially big hit. “Oh, my God, this is to die for,” Angelica Winston (from the new reality show Hard Ass) had raved. Bailey had smiled modestly and kept circulating, while her assistant Giorgio served up stuffed mushrooms. She’d been working for the past three years to earn a reputation as caterer to the stars, and things were finally starting to happen.

Except here was Samba Barrett, writhing on her living room floor, groaning in agony. Twenty minutes ago she’d been eating those shrimp cups and laughing. Did she have food allergies she hadn’t told Bailey about? Samba had gone over the menu with her, approved everything. How could this have happened? Was Bailey going to be known as killer of the stars?

Thirty people gathered around the actress, some offering advice, some taking pictures with their cell phones, others texting wildly. Bailey stood on the fringe and nervously downed one of her own appetizers.

“You’ll be okay, baby,” Rory Rourke assured Samba.

“I think I ate something bad,” she whimpered.

“Oh, no, that’s not possible,” Bailey protested, and everyone turned to look at her. One woman aimed her cell phone at Bailey, capturing her miserable expression. This couldn’t be happening.

But it could. And it was. Now Bailey felt sick. She lost her grip on the tray of canapés she was carrying and down they went, the tray landing on the Jimmy Choos of one of the party guests busily recording her hostess’s misery on her cell phone.

The woman next to her let out a yelp and jumped back, then glared at Bailey.

“Sorry,” Bailey muttered and bent to scoop the mess onto the tray. In the process she managed to get in the way of another guest, nearly tripping him.

He didn’t settle for glaring. He swore at her.

Catering hell—that was what this was. Bailey made a dash for the kitchen and hid out, watching the drama unfold from behind the counter.

The ambulance arrived, and the EMTs showed up to take Samba’s vitals and load her onto a stretcher. Then away she went, a pitiful—but gorgeous—victim of Sterling Catering.

The guests switched from eating to drinking. Rory told Bailey she could clean up and leave, and not in the kindest tone of voice. He didn’t offer to pay her, and she didn’t ask. All she wanted to do was get out of that cramped apartment full of the young and the beautiful.

By the time she left, the media was waiting. Photographers snapped her picture, and reporters stuck microphones in her face. “Have you catered for Samba before?”... “Has Samba threatened to sue?”... “What’s your relationship with Rory Rourke?”

Bailey stood there like Bambi staring at the headlights of a Mack truck, her toque askew, offering quotable quotes such as, “What?”

She quickly realized that it was time to scram and bolted for the van where Giorgio was loading up boxes of supplies...and telling a reporter that he wasn’t involved with any of the food prep. “I’m only doing this while I wait to hear from my agent. We’ve got something big in the works. Giorgio Romano. R-o-m...”

Bailey tossed in the last of her serving equipment, then tugged on his double-breasted white jacket and growled, “Get in the van,” even as the vultures who’d been talking to him now turned their attention to her.

He scowled at her but got moving.

They drove away with photographers pointing their cameras and shooting. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, swerving to avoid one.

“I wasn’t thinking anything. I was just answering questions.”

“Well, thanks a lot,” she snapped.

He held out both hands. “What did you want me to do?”

“How about saying that Sterling Catering was not responsible for Samba Barrett’s illness?” she suggested, her voice rising.

“I can’t be sure of that,” Giorgio said sullenly.

“You’ve been working for me for six months now, Giorgio. You know how good I am. You could have said something.” Was there no loyalty in the world? She brushed away a tear.

“I told you, I’m only here until I get my break.”

“And I suppose that was it,” she said in disgust. “Getting your name in the paper as a caterer?”

“Every little bit helps,” he retorted. “Publicity is great, even if it’s bad.”

Not for a caterer. She had a small liability policy, but it didn’t cover bad press. Overwhelmed with misery, Bailey pulled off the road and began to cry in earnest.

Giorgio sat there in what she thought was silent sympathy. Until he said, “Here, let me drive. I’ve got a date.”

She raised her tearstained face from the steering wheel. “A date? You were working the party.”

“Yeah. But when it ended early...” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

Sorry about summed it up.

* * *

After a long day of work punctuated hourly by texts from her miserable little sister, Cecily Sterling was standing in line at the Icicle Falls Safeway with her recharge essentials—a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a bag of Cheetos. It seemed everyone else in Icicle Falls had had a long day at work, too, and the store was packed.

She’d already run into Dot Morrison, who’d eyed her purchases and said, “Now, that’s my kind of dinner.”

She’d planned on adding more to her “dinner,” but she’d spotted Luke Goodman, the production manager at her family’s chocolate company, in the cookie department with his daughter, Serena, and had decided to skip the cookies.

Not that she didn’t want to see little Serena or, as Serena would insist, Big Serena now that she’d “graduated” from kindergarten. Serena’s visits to the Sweet Dreams Chocolates office with her grandma gave Cecily her kid fix on a regular basis.

But Serena’s daddy was another matter.

Luke Goodman was a nice guy. He had the husky build of a wrestler (which he’d been in high school), kind blue eyes and a great smile. He was a widower, and he’d been interested in Cecily ever since she’d moved back home to Icicle Falls. The only problem was that she wasn’t interested in him as anything more than a friend.

She should have been. What was wrong with her, anyway? She had such a gift for matching up other people. She’d brought together friends in high school and in college; thanks to her, a lot of weddings had taken place. She’d even been in the matchmaking business, for crying out loud. She could size people up and instinctively know who should be with whom. But when it came to herself she knew nothing. She’d been engaged twice, and each man had turned out to be a loser and a user. Pathetic.

Luke was neither of those, and he wanted her. So why did her stupid hormones do the happy dance every time she got anywhere near Todd Black?

Todd had also been after her ever since she’d moved home. He owned The Man Cave, a seedy tavern at the edge of town, and he was no Luke Goodman. He looked like Johnny Depp’s kid brother, and he was a heartbreak waiting to happen. He had bad boy written all over him, from the double entendres he was so good at throwing Cecily’s way to how he looked at her, as if she were a chocolate bar he’d like to unwrap. Slowly. Luke Goodman was the kind of man who married a girl, but Todd Black was the kind who slept with her and then conveniently forgot to call the next day.

She should have no interest whatsoever in Todd Black. And she certainly should never have agreed to stop by his tavern on Friday night to play pinball when she’d run into him earlier that day at Bavarian Brews.

But he’d caught her in a weak moment. She’d been worried about her younger sister, Bailey, and she’d said yes without thinking. At least that was her excuse. She really couldn’t blame her moment of weakness on preoccupation, though. Insanity was the true culprit. Anytime she was around that man he heated up her hormones and fried her brain. Now she was going to go home and rewire the synapses with junk food and a long bubble bath. She enjoyed making bath salts and bubble bath and could hardly wait to indulge in her latest creation—lavender-vanilla.

She’d barely gotten in line when Cass Wilkes walked up behind her and said hi. “Ice cream—food of the gods.”

Cass was Cecily’s sister Samantha’s BFF, but she’d opened the door of friendship to Cecily, too, and they saw each other every Sunday at Cass’s chick-flick nights and during their monthly book-club meetings.

Cecily smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed. That was both the beauty and the curse of living in a small town. Everyone knew your business. “Not exactly the diet special, is it?”

“No, but I can’t exactly say anything.” Cass held up her shopping basket, which contained a pizza and a two-liter bottle of root beer. “You can see we’re eating well tonight.”

The basket also held a bag of ready-made salad. “It’s not all bad,” Cecily said, pointing to the salad. “And pizza has good things on it.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. I also keep telling myself that I’m only going to eat the salad and leave the pizza for the kids. But I’m lying.”

“Life’s too short not to eat pizza,” Cecily said with a smile. The smile fell away when her cell phone started singing Bailey’s ringtone, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

Bailey’s life had been anything but fun the past couple of days. She had called Cecily the evening of the disastrous party, practically hysterical. They’d pulled in Samantha, who had found Bailey a tough L.A. lawyer, but no legal shark could save her from bad publicity. Of course, the story had made the papers, and all the TV stations had repeatedly run the footage of her van driving away, leaving the scene of the “crime.” Naturally, they’d zoomed in on Sterling Catering painted on the side of the van. Word of mouth had added to the avalanche of bad press. People who’d booked her for their events had been calling right and left and canceling.

Cecily answered, bracing herself for more bad news.

Sure enough. “Have you seen the Star Reporter?”

Oh, no. What now? Cecily turned to the magazine rack near the cash register. There, on the front of the latest popular celebrity news rag, was a picture of Bailey in her white caterer’s coat, standing outside Samba Barrett’s apartment building. She was wearing an expression of shock, along with her chef’s toque, her big hazel eyes wide and her mouth dangling open. She looked more confused than crazy. In fact, she looked like the village idiot. The bold print above the picture proclaimed, Samba Barrett Poisoned? Crazy Caterer Tries to Take Out the Competition.

“Oh, no.” Cecily dropped her junk food on the checkout conveyor belt and grabbed the magazine.

Cass, standing right next to her, took one, too, muttering, “Those creeps.”

“This is the worst yet. I’m ruined!” Bailey wailed.

“That headline doesn’t make sense. What competition are they talking about?” Cecily asked, trying to balance her cell phone, calm her sister and turn to the article all at the same time.

“They’re saying I had a thing for Rory Rourke, which is ridiculous. I don’t even know Rory Rourke. I didn’t know any of those people!”

During the past forty-eight hours, Bailey’s moods had swung between grim resignation and wild hysteria. It wasn’t hard to tell what mode she was in now. “This is a gossip rag,” Cecily reminded her. “You can’t believe what you read in papers like this. Nobody takes this stuff seriously.”

“My business is trashed. My life is trashed. I don’t even have money to pay for the lawyer.”

“Samantha and I told you not to worry about that,” Cecily told her. “It’s being taken care of.” News had traveled as fast around Icicle Falls as it had in L.A., and Dot Morrison and Pat Wilder, two of the town’s older businesswomen, had already set up a special bank account for Bailey’s defense fund.

Not that she was going to need it. Anyone with eyes could see the actress had pulled a cheap publicity stunt. The lawyer was on top of things, and Cecily was sure that before the month was over, Bailey would be out from under this. She said as much, hoping to calm her sister.

“It’s just...this article,” Bailey said between sobs. “I’m nothing like that. And I worked so hard to build my business. Now it’s...gone.”

Cecily wished she could reassure her, but in Hollywood, where making an impression was everything, well, it didn’t look good for Sterling Catering. “Come home,” she said.

“I can’t.”

Cecily knew how hard it was to give up a dream. She also knew how hard it was to come full circle, right back to where you started. She’d done it herself. It had turned out to be exactly what she needed, and she was much happier working in the family business than she’d been trying to match up gold diggers with shallow men who wanted Playboy bunnies.

“Think about it,” she urged. “Everyone here loves you.”

“That’s for sure,” Cass said over her shoulder.

“I can’t even leave my apartment. There are reporters hiding in the bushes.”

“They won’t hide there forever. And I can guarantee they won’t follow you here,” Cecily said. At least she hoped they wouldn’t. “The story will die down as soon as the next manufactured scandal hits. Which, I predict, will be sometime within the next seventy-two hours.”

“I asked her if she had any allergies,” Bailey said. “I have all kinds of menus to choose from, and she chose that one.”

“Don’t worry. This will all work out,” Cecily promised.

It was as if Bailey hadn’t heard. “I’m ruined,” she said again.

“Only temporarily.”

“Well, how long is temporary?” Bailey cried.

That was something for which Cecily had no answer.

* * *

Ruined, Bailey thought miserably as she ended the call with her sister. She’d gone to the hospital to see Samba, thinking maybe they could talk, that she could explain why her food couldn’t possibly have made the actress sick. She’d even brought flowers. She’d encountered a hired guard at the door of Samba’s private room, and all he’d allowed in had been the flowers, along with the get-well card on which Bailey had written, I hope you feel better soon. But now she hoped Samba contracted terminal acne.

Well, okay, not really. She liked to think she was better than that.

Samba was out of the hospital the next day, shopping on Rodeo Drive, pretending to look annoyed when photographers took her picture. Of course, she’d given a quote to any paper that was interested. “I really don’t know what happened.”

Bailey knew what had happened. She’d been duped.

“All I want is to put this behind me,” Samba said, posing like a tragic heroine.

Sure, now that she’d milked all the free publicity she could out of ruining Bailey. Rumor had it that Samba had been offered a part in a pilot for a new TV series, some sort of female detective show. (That was rich. Samba Barrett, who had just faked her own food poisoning, solving crimes.)

Meanwhile, Bailey couldn’t even get a job catering to street people. She’d been dubbed “the party poisoner,” and not only had she lost business, but she was also the butt of everyone’s jokes. One late-night TV host had cracked that he’d planned to hire a caterer for his birthday party but changed his mind since he wanted to live to see his next birthday. Ha-ha.

She’d finally given a quote to the Star Reporter, a diplomatic but strongly worded quote, insisting, “I don’t know what happened to Samba, but I know it wasn’t my food that made her sick. No one else at that party got ill.”

The paper had run with it, and the next headline proclaimed, Caterer Claims Samba Barrett Faked Food Poisoning. Great. That was almost as good for business as the original incident.

This will all work out, she told herself. Just like Cecily had said. When life gives you lemons make lemonade. Or eat chocolate. Except her chocolate stash was gone. Okay, she needed a drink.

She went to her fridge to pull out a Coke. None left. The refrigerator was a giant, near-empty cave, containing a bag with a few spinach leaves, half a tomato, some canned olives and pickles and a dab of Gruyère. At some point she was going to have to go out and get groceries.

Not today, though—at least, not in broad daylight. She’d have to wait until nightfall.

Around ten-thirty, she deemed it safe to leave her apartment. No one jumped up out of the bushes as she dashed to her car, and she convinced herself that she was being paranoid.

She drove to the supermarket; once inside, she hurried through the store, picking up produce, milk and juice. No photographer dogged her, and she let out her breath.

But when Bailey went to pay, the checker kept studying her, all the while trying to appear as if she wasn’t. She could almost hear the checker thinking, Why does this woman look so familiar?

The customer behind her had a copy of the Star Reporter and was eyeballing her, too.

Now another shopper joined them, and he, also, began staring inquisitively.

It was all Bailey could do not to pull out her hair and shriek. Instead, she paid for her groceries and said, “I didn’t poison Samba Barrett. She just got sick. Okay?” She didn’t stick around to find out whether it was okay or not. She grabbed her bag and left.

As the doors swooshed open, she heard one of the gawkers say, “Do you think she did?”

She rushed to her car, tripped in the process and dropped her grocery bag. A head of cabbage went rolling, and she dived to rescue it. As she plopped it back in the bag, she looked over her shoulder to check whether anyone had seen her clumsy moment.

That was when she spotted the man with the camera lurking on the other side of the parking lot. Great. She could see the headlines now. Crazy Caterer Cracks Up at Supermarket.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything to anybody. And these buzzards knew it. Frustration and anger finally took over, and she did something she’d never done in her life. She lifted her hand and saluted the rat across the lot with one finger, and it wasn’t her index finger. There. That said it all.

That would probably say it all in the next issue of the Star Reporter, too.

But it didn’t make her feel any better. With a sob, she put her groceries in the car and drove away. How long was this going to go on? How long were people going to look at her as if she were some kind of sicko?

How long was her money going to last?


Chapter Two (#u41e1ead5-8ff4-59a5-a7f7-76ae0b53d248)

Not for the first time, Cecily asked herself what she was doing as she walked into the murky interior of The Man Cave on a lovely spring Friday evening. It was, of course, a rhetorical question. She knew what she was doing here. She’d been moving in this direction ever since she’d hit town and encountered Todd Black. It had been only a matter of time until she gave in and agreed to do more than trade insults with him.

It was eight o’clock, and the place was full, mostly with men. The mechanic from Swede’s gas station was playing pool with Billy Williams and one of Billy’s cowboy pals, Jinx Woeburn, as well as a skinny woman with long, stringy hair wearing Daisy Duke shorts, cowgirl boots and a tight tank top. A couple of bikers and their babes stood in a corner, playing darts and drinking beer. The rest of The Man Cave’s patrons were lined up along the bar, draped over drinks, watching a baseball game on the TV that hung over the array of booze bottles. They ranged in age from men in their twenties to grizzled old guys looking to get out of the house for a while. The vibe here sure was different from the bar at Zelda’s. That place buzzed with success and hospitality. The Man Cave was more of an “Aw, what the hell” kind of retreat.

The clack of pool balls acted as a rhythm section for Trace Adkins’s “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” which was blasting from speakers in all four corners of the tavern, and that competed with the noise of the baseball game playing on the TV. The place smelled musty, as if no one had thrown open a door or a window in months. The pinball machine, Todd’s excuse for luring her over, sat in the far corner with an out-of-order sign on it. So much for his invitation to come in and show him what sort of pinball wizard she was.

She felt several pairs of male eyes on her as she walked in. This was nothing new. She’d always attracted male attention. But here, in this tavern, she felt as if she were the one in the tight tank top instead of a conservative pink sweater and loose-fitting jeans. This place, it was just so...ugh.

Todd had been behind the bar helping his bartender, Pete, but at the sight of her he came around and started moving toward her. He was dressed casually in jeans, loafers and a black T-shirt. It wasn’t so tight it looked spray-painted on like the one Bill Will was wearing, but it clung enough to let a girl know he was sporting some splendid pecs beneath it.

He smiled at her, sending a jolt through her that ran all the way from her bra to her panties. What was it about this man? Did he have pheromone overload?

She shouldn’t have come. If he kissed her, that would be it; she was bound to do something stupid and get her heart broken for the third time.

Well, she had a great excuse to leave. There was no sense staying if the pinball machine was out of order.

“You’re looking especially pretty tonight,” he greeted her, taking in her pink sweater. “Why do I look at you and think cupcakes?”

She motioned to his black T-shirt. “And why do I look at you and think devil’s food?”

Of course, he wasn’t insulted. Her comment served only to produce a grin on that handsome face of his.

She didn’t give him a chance to say any more. “I might as well go. Your pinball machine is broken.”

“No, it’s not. I just put the sign up there to keep everybody else off it.”

She shook her head. “You could’ve put up a sign that said Reserved.”

One dark eyebrow shot up. “What does this look like, Schwangau?”

Good point. The Man Cave was hardly an upscale restaurant.

He nodded toward the bar. “What would you like to drink?”

“Coke.” If she were at Zelda’s she’d have indulged in some girlie drink like a Chocolate Kiss or a huckleberry martini, but his place was no Zelda’s. Anyway, it was a given that an evening of verbal sparring with Todd Black would require her brain to be in top working order. She wasn’t about to cloud it with alcohol.

“Rum and Coke?”

“Just Coke.”

“You live dangerously, Cecily Sterling.” He held out some coins and said, “Go on over and warm up. I’ll get the Cokes.”

“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” She took the coins and walked over to the corner. It was a vintage model from the seventies called Pin Up—a sexy name for a game with a bowling theme. This was going to be fun. By the time Todd joined her she’d studied the landscape of the machine and was ready to rock and roll.

He set their drinks on a nearby empty table and said, “Okay, let’s see how long you can go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go first? I’ll last a lot longer than you,” she taunted him.

He leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. “You have no idea how long I can last.”

That hit her zing-o-meter. She made a determined effort to ignore it and turned her back on him. “Okay, you had your chance.”

She positioned herself in front of the machine, standing straight. Then she put the ball in play, waiting patiently, not overworking the flippers, nudging the machine enough to get it to work with her but not to the point where it would tilt and end her game. The play went on. And on. Oh, this was fun!

At some point she became aware of the fact that she’d gathered a crowd. And soon the crowd began whooping and clapping. It finally messed up her concentration. Her game ended, and she stepped back from the machine with a frown.

“That was something else, Cec,” Bill Will said reverently.

“Impressive,” Todd admitted.

“I thought this was broken,” one of the bikers said, glaring at Todd.

The man wasn’t much taller than Todd, but he was twice as big and he looked like a block of cement with legs. And attitude. Weren’t most bikers these days supposed to be nice, middle-aged men? Dentists who’d always wanted to own a Harley? Maybe this particular specimen hadn’t gotten the memo.

Todd wasn’t fazed by the customer’s ire. He merely shrugged and said, “I guess she fixed it.” He motioned to the game with his hand, and the big guy pushed his way up to it.

“That was convenient,” Cecily teased. “Now you don’t have to compete with me.”

He grinned. “I can think of other things I’d rather do than compete.”

Zing! So could she. Meanwhile, Jake O’Brien’s new hit song, “Hot and Bothered,” boomed from the speaker.

Todd picked up her glass from the table and handed it to her. “The darts corner is empty. Wanna give it a try?”

“Try is about all I can do,” she said.

She proved it right away. She could barely hit the dartboard, let alone the bull’s-eye, and he beat her soundly.

He was about to give her some pointers when things got noisy over at the pinball machine. The big biker was not happy, and the whole room (with the exception of the TV and the music coming through the speakers) got quiet. Cecily watched as Bill Will, his buddy and the tank top chick casually moved away to the relative safety of the bar. The men on the barstools hunched even lower over their drinks. Meanwhile the biker animal was swearing and pounding on the machine. Bad pinball etiquette.

“He’s going to break that,” Cecily predicted. If her big sister, Samantha, had been here she would’ve fearlessly strode over to the creep and let him have it. Cecily was not her sister.

Todd didn’t have a problem, though. He went to the bar and had a quiet word with his bartender, Pete, then strolled across the tavern to where the gorilla’s friends stood nonchalantly watching as he tried to beat up the pinball machine. Trying to get in touch with her inner Samantha, Cecily followed, not sure what she’d be able to do if things got ugly.

“Sorry, pal, but I’m gonna have to ask you to stop beating on that,” Todd told the man. “It can’t take that kind of abuse.”

The biker stopped, and the way he scowled was clearly a challenge. “The machine’s rigged.”

“What, to favor women?”

Now the biker gorilla loomed over Todd. “Are you trying to make me look like a dick?”

“Not at all,” Todd said easily. “It looks like you don’t need any help with that.”

A couple of the older patrons at the bar snickered. Everyone else in the room braced for the fight that was about to begin.

The biker poked Todd in the chest. “I don’t like smart-asses.”

“And I don’t like jerks. I guess we’re not gonna be friends, so you may as well leave.”

Todd’s antagonist puffed out his mammoth chest. “Yeah? Who’s gonna make me?”

“The cops. We already called them.”

“We haven’t done anything,” protested one of the biker chicks.

Todd nodded. “So far, you’re good to go. I suggest you do that.”

The big man stood for a moment, obviously torn between his desire to pummel Todd and the wiser choice, which was to leave. Finally with a snort of disgust, he smashed his beer bottle on the floor, turned around and marched out of the tavern. His companions followed him out.

Todd shook his head and went to his back room. A few minutes later he returned with a broom and dustpan and a garbage pail.

That was when Tilda Morrison and Jamal Lincoln, two of Icicle Falls’s finest, made their entrance. Cecily watched as he stood talking with them, still unfazed by his close encounter with Godzilla. The man had nerves of steel. He also wasn’t above doing his own menial labor. There was more to Todd Black than a gift for flirting.

“That little confrontation was either very brave or very dumb,” Cecily said after Tilda and Jamal had left. She took the dustpan to hold it for him.

“You can’t wimp out with guys like that. Otherwise they eat you for lunch.” He smiled. “Anyway, it’s easy to be brave when you know the cops are on the way.”

“I suppose,” she said dubiously. “Although he could have done some damage to you before they got here.”

“Could have but didn’t.” He cleaned up the last of the mess and took back the dustpan. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Someplace where I don’t have to stop what we’re doing to mop up beer. Let me get my stuff out of the office.”

Talk about assuming that she was up for whatever he suggested! Well, maybe she was, since she hadn’t protested.

He disappeared into the nether regions to stow away the broom and garbage, then reappeared wearing a black leather jacket and carrying two motorcycle helmets. After talking briefly with Pete, he walked over to Cecily and handed her one. “Want to take a ride?”

She’d run into Todd around town more times than she cared to count, but she’d usually seen him in a truck. Why was she not surprised to learn that he rode a motorcycle?

“So that’s why you weren’t afraid of that guy. You’re one of them,” she teased.

“Right,” he said.

Next thing she knew she was seated behind him on the bike, holding on for dear life as they rumbled off down the road. No wonder men loved motorcycles. Feeling that power under you as you sped down the highway—it was like an aphrodisiac.

Just what she didn’t need. He hadn’t told her where he wanted to take her, but she had her suspicions.

Sure enough, partway down River Street he stopped the bike in front of a two-story house with a neglected patch of lawn. The porch light was on, spotlighting the fact that the place was obviously in bad shape. Thirsty for paint, it was an eyesore in a popular old neighborhood of Victorian and Craftsman-style homes, some of which had been around since the thirties, most of them restored. Fixed up, it could be really cute, Cecily thought. A fresh coat of white paint, some green trim, a rocker on that front porch...

To her surprise, the inside of the house looked good, with photographs of mountain scenery on cream-colored walls, area rugs scattered over hardwood floors and expensive leather furniture. Funky ceramic art topped the mantelpiece—a raccoon holding a beer bottle and a biker elephant and his lady wearing Harley jackets, sitting astride a motorcycle with two flat tires.

“This is nice,” she said, taking it all in.

“I can guess what you were expecting,” he said. “I’ll get to the outside of the place this summer. How about another Coke?”

“Sure.”

He walked around the corner into the kitchen, then reappeared carrying a couple of glasses and a can of pop. “The big-girl version this time?” He went to a liquor cabinet in the small dining area and pulled out a bottle of rum and held it up, the expression on his face a dare.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But if you’re thinking it’ll help you seduce me, you’re wrong.”

He poured their drinks and returned to where she stood checking out one of the photographs. “You really think I need help?” he asked, his voice a purr as he handed her a glass.

He was standing so close she could smell his aftershave, feel the heat coming off his body. Her heart rate picked up.

Part of her wanted to grab him and wrap her legs around him, but caution made her step away and position herself in front of another picture. Like the one she’d just been studying, it was a masterpiece of camera special effects, this one showing a mountain flower in sharp full bloom with Sleeping Lady Mountain a soft blur in the background. “Did you take all these?”

Now there he was, right next to her again. “Yeah.”

“They’re really good.”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I have other interests besides my business.”

She cocked her head. “Yeah?”

He went to the couch, sat down and patted the cushion beside his. “Yeah.”

She joined him—at the other end, simply to prove she wasn’t going to be some easy lay. “You have quite an eye.”

He shrugged. “I was an art major in college.”

“How could an art major...” She stopped midsentence, realizing it would be insulting to ask how someone with real talent could end up owning a seedy tavern.

He’d seen where she was going, though, and finished the sentence for her. “...wind up owning a tavern? It’s a sound business investment. Anyway, I get a kick out of the place. And I still dabble in photography and painting.”

“The Neanderthal in lederhosen on the side of the building,” she said.

“Self-portrait,” he joked.

“An art major,” she mused. “I never would have guessed.”

“You probably never would have guessed a lot of things about me. But then, that’s because you’ve been too busy running away from me.”

“So, if a woman doesn’t fall all over you, she’s running away from you?”

“We’re not talking about a woman. We’re talking about one woman. You.” He set his drink on the coffee table and scooted over, closing the distance between them.

She cast her gaze around the room, looking for something else to comment on. Of course, that would only postpone the inevitable. What was she doing here?

He rested an arm on the back of the couch and began playing with her hair, stirring up her nerve endings.

She took a long drink of her rum and Coke to settle them down. It didn’t work.

He removed the glass from her hand and gently nudged her chin in his direction. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I first saw you. Are you gonna let me?”

And then, assuming the answer would be yes, he did just that, and her nerve endings went from stirred to shaken. Oh, she was in trouble. Against her better judgment, she was falling hard for this man. She felt his hand drifting along her midriff, moving upward, and her nerve endings went into delirium. If she didn’t stop this right now, she never would. And she wasn’t ready to make that leap yet. She had to be sure.

She pulled away. “That was quite a kiss.”

“You’re quite a woman,” he said and started to move in for more.

She placed a hand on his chest. “I think I’ve had enough fun for one night.”

“Don’t like to kiss on the first date?” he teased.

“I’m not sure playing pinball at your tavern and then coming over here for a grope fest counts as a date.”

“Who groped? You never let me get that far.”

“It’s time for me to go home,” she said and stood.

He stood, too. Now they were just a breath away from each other. He reached up and began playing with her hair again. “Have I mentioned that I’m a sucker for blondes?”

And she was a sucker for having someone play with her hair. But she wasn’t about to be suckered by Todd Black—at least not tonight. “Thanks for sharing,” she said and removed his fingers from her hair.

“And you are truly the most beautiful blonde I’ve ever seen.”

Men had been telling her she was beautiful since puberty, and she wanted more than someone who was turned on by her appearance. She wasn’t interested in a relationship where sex was the driving force. Although, if that kiss was any indication, sex with Todd Black would be amazing.

Stop it! she scolded herself. To him she said, “I’ve heard that before.” And it didn’t move her. She needed to be with a man who wanted more.

“I bet you have. I bet men have been telling you you’re beautiful since the day you got your first training bra.”

She frowned at him. “That was poetic.”

“I try.”

“Try harder. I’m not looking for someone to sleep with.”

“Aw, and I put clean sheets on the bed and everything.”

Cecily frowned at him again. “Can’t you ever be serious?”

“Yeah, actually, I can. You’ll have to go out with me, so I can show you my serious side.”

“It’s a little hard to date when I work days and you work nights, doncha think?”

“I own the place. I can take a night off. I can take tomorrow night off. Let’s go out to dinner. Zelda’s, and a movie after.”

She should derail this train before it went any farther down the track. Instead, she said, “All right. Zelda’s, and a movie after. With popcorn. Don’t cheap out on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He put his hand to the small of her back and gently steered her toward the front door. “Come on, Beauty. Let’s get you out of here before the beast ravishes you.”

And before her nerve endings betrayed her.

Who was she kidding? They already had.

The ride back to The Man Cave on his Harley didn’t calm them down any. Todd Black in leather, seated astride a big rumbling machine, was like a romance-novel cover come to life, and the minute she climbed on behind him, her zing-o-meter took another hit. What was she doing? Who was in charge here, anyway, her brains or her hormones?

As if she needed to ask that question? Oh, boy.

* * *

Bailey’s bank account was dwindling, and she was down to her last catering job.

The detective hired by her L.A. lawyer had learned that the doctors found no evidence of food poisoning when Samba Barrett came in and played her General Hospital scene. Big surprise. Bailey’s lawyer had sent Samba a letter threatening to sue her for slander and that had been enough to shut up her collagen-plumped mouth as she made the late-night talk TV circuit. It was one thing to be a tragic victim. Quite another to get taken to court for being a fake.

Sadly, it was all too late to bring back Bailey’s customers.

You still have the Amora Bliss baby shower, she reminded herself. That would have several Hollywood people at it, and if all went well, maybe she could rebuild her reputation.

Or not. Saturday morning, the day before the shower, Melinda Spooner, the hostess, called her. “It turns out we’re not going to need you,” she said.

Seriously? She was canceling the day before the event? After Bailey had purchased the food, begun making preparations? “But I’ve already started on the baby bootee cakes,” Bailey protested. “And they’re adorable.”

“I’m sure they are, but we won’t be needing you.”

This woman was an actress friend of Bailey’s high school pal Bitsy (also an aspiring actress—in Los Angeles, who wasn’t?). It was enough of a connection that Bailey felt she could fight to keep this gig. “Melinda, does this have anything to do with what happened at Samba Barrett’s party?”

There was a betraying moment of silence before Melinda spoke. “No, of course not.”

“You know Bitsy wouldn’t have referred you to someone incompetent,” Bailey pushed. “And you know you can’t believe everything you read in the Star Reporter.”

“I know. It’s just that, well, uh, Amora’s having labor pains, and we’re not sure if she’ll even be around for the party tomorrow.”

“I thought she wasn’t due for another two months.”

“They’re premature.”

Right.

“I’d better go,” Melinda said. She ended the call before Bailey could say anything more.

Bailey looked around her rented commercial kitchen at the piles of fruit, waiting to get made into salad, the fresh herbs, the half-decorated little cakes, and burst into tears. And then she called her big sister.

Samantha answered on the first ring. “How are you doing?”

“Horrible,” Bailey sobbed. “I lost my last client.”

“Okay, that’s it, end of story. You’re coming home.”

“I can’t afford to come home.” She also couldn’t afford rent. Or food. Heck, she couldn’t afford to breathe.

“Oh, yes, you can,” Samantha said briskly. “I’m going online and buying you a ticket. You can stay with Cec.”

That was her big sister, making decisions for everyone. It was in Samantha’s nature to take charge.

But that was exactly what Bailey needed right now. It seemed she was no longer able to run her own life.

“I’ll call Cec. You start packing. Okay?”

Bailey had so wanted to make a success of her catering business. She’d had everything all planned. She’d begin as a caterer to the stars and move from there into having her own restaurant and becoming a star herself, a celebrity chef with restaurants in L.A. and Vegas. That dream was dead.

“We’ve all missed you,” Samantha said. “You belong in Icicle Falls. Come home.”

Home. Suddenly, that was the sweetest word in the English language. Her family would dress her emotional wounds with encouragement and wrap her in love, and she desperately needed a dose of love.

She sure wasn’t feeling it in L.A. “Get me out of here as soon as you can,” she said. Dorothy was right. There was no place like home, and the sooner Bailey got there, the happier she’d be.

* * *

“Todd, I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Millie Halverson said, handing Todd a glass of iced tea.

He took it and wiped his sweaty brow. “Aw, Mrs. H., there you go, swelling my head again.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” the old woman said with a smile. “I really do appreciate you coming over to help me. That lawn is too much for me with my darned hip.”

Not just the lawn—the whole house, he thought, but he didn’t say anything. Sadly, the time would come soon enough when the Halversons would have to admit defeat and give up the place. And now that her husband had had a stroke, Todd expected it was imminent. So far, the Halversons had been holding on with all their might.

He didn’t blame them. It was a great old place. And talk about a perfect location. The house was on a street that was now zoned commercial, and it sat right around the corner from the block the locals called Foodie Paradise, which housed everything from Sweet Dreams Chocolates and a spice shop to Bavarian Brews, the town’s favorite coffee shop.

Once upon a time this had been a neighborhood filled with families raising their children, but the families had moved on. Some had left during the years the town was struggling economically; others had relocated farther out when Icicle Falls began to prosper, building bigger houses in other parts of town, selling their places to businesspeople anxious to open shops and take advantage of the tourist boom.

Like his house, this one had been around for at least a century and was showing its age. Over the past couple of years, since he’d gotten to know the couple, he’d done some minor repairs, but the kitchen needed updating and the whole place needed painting. Although Todd had offered to do that, Millie and Mike had declined. He suspected it was because of money and had wanted to pay for the paint, but they’d still said no. Hard to accept help, even from someone who’d become a friend.

“If we’d had a son, I’d have wanted him to be just like you,” Millie said.

Too bad his old man wasn’t around to hear that. He looked at her in mock surprise. “I’m not?”

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “You’re such a cutup. But I do want to talk to you seriously when you’re done. If you’ve got a minute.”

“For you? Of course.” She nodded briskly and hobbled into the house, while he went back to mowing her lawn, wondering what she wanted to talk about.

He found out half an hour later when he’d finished, and she invited him inside to sit on her worn, blue velvet sofa.

“Mike and I have been talking. We think it’s time for assisted living, for both of us.”

“Aw, crap.” They’d wanted to stay in this place until they died. Not practical, of course, but Todd still felt bad for them.

He remembered how his grandpa had fought the whole business of aging, tootling around in his Caddy, trying to take out half the population in his small town. After Gramps had run a stop sign and T-boned a truck, Mom had finally convinced him to turn over his car keys, but it had sent him into a depression that lasted for three months. The only thing that pulled him out was getting rides to the senior center from the widow down the road who drove a 1950 MG. Cruising around in a sports car with a sexy seventy-year-old had eased the pain.

What was going to ease the pain for the Halversons? They didn’t have any kids. All they had was each other, and with Mike barely recovering in the nursing home, Todd wasn’t sure how long that would last.

“We were hoping you might like to buy the house,” Millie said timidly.

Just what he needed—another old Victorian to fix up.

She must have seen his hesitation. “We’ll give you a good deal.”

“Millie, I don’t want to screw you guys over. But, well, I’ve got a place.”

“I know,” she said. “But only last fall you were talking with Mike about finding some more business investments. And this is commercially zoned.”

Except that he couldn’t see himself setting up some fussy little shop. “Aw, Millie, I appreciate the offer but...”

“Prime location. You could rent it out to someone wanting to have a shop.”

Of course, she was right. He’d be a fool not to scoop this place up. “What do you want for it?”

The number she gave him was pathetically low. Good Lord, did the woman have no idea what property values were in Icicle Falls these days? “Uh-uh. I’m not out to steal from you.”

“Well, then, make me an offer.”

He did.

She shook her head. “Too high.”

He had to laugh. “Mrs. H., you do know that this isn’t how you do a real-estate deal? The idea is to get the most money you can.”

“You’ve been awfully good to us since Mike had his stroke—even before. We’ve talked it over and we’d like to help you a little.”

“You’ll need that money,” he said. “Assisted living isn’t cheap.”

“We have money, dear,” she told him. “We just need to unload this house.”

Yeah, right. Who did she think she was kidding? He named another figure, and she countered. At last he threw out a final number he thought he could live with. It was still a bargain, but at least not so much of a steal that he’d feel like a robber. “And that’s my final offer.”

She nodded. “Done.”

“Do you want to talk to your husband about my offer?” Not that Mike could talk so well these days.

“No, I have power of attorney. Anyway, we’ve already discussed this. He’ll be relieved. I’ll have our lawyer draw up the papers. If you can arrange financing, we can get this settled pretty quickly.”

“There’s no rush,” he assured her.

She smiled sadly. “Oh, yes, there is. My sister and her husband are coming here next week to help us move. We found a lovely place in Bremerton.”

“Oh.” He sat back, shocked.

She smiled sadly at him. “Mike’s not getting any better. There was no point letting grass grow under our feet.”

“I’d have kept mowing it,” he said, trying to lighten the moment.

She patted his arm. “I know. You’ve been a good friend to us. Mike sure loved going over to The Man Cave on Thursday nights and playing pool with you. It was something to look forward to.”

“Same here,” Todd said. Mike had reminded him a lot of his grandpa, and he’d enjoyed the old guy. “I’m gonna miss you two.”

“Life moves on, dear,” she said. She gave him another pat. “Do something wonderful with this place and make us proud.”

He nodded, fighting the urge to go all wimpy and cry. “I will.”

“I know you will. You’re a smart young man.”

“That’s what my mama always says,” he cracked. Too bad he’d never heard those words from his dad.

He and Millie shook hands, and then he left, mentally adding a visit to the bank to the day’s to-do list. As he walked to his Harley, he glanced around the street, looking at the various shops. Yep, this was a sweet location. What could he put in that house? Something food-related? He didn’t yet know what the old Victorian would become, what should be done with it, but he’d know when he saw it. Oh, yeah, the Halversons had given him an incredible deal.

He smiled. A new business acquisition this morning and a date with the delicious Cecily Sterling tonight. Life was good.


Chapter Three (#u41e1ead5-8ff4-59a5-a7f7-76ae0b53d248)

Cecily was poking around in her closet, trying to decide what to wear on her date with Todd, when Samantha called to tell her their little sister was coming home.

“Thank God,” Cecily said. “She needs to be here with people who care about her.”

“She also needs a place to stay. Mom’s is too small.”

“She can stay with me.” Cecily had bought Samantha’s condo when Samantha married Blake Preston. The condo had two bedrooms, and she wasn’t really using the spare one other than as a catchall for her extra clothes and some of her craft supplies.

“That’s what I told her.”

“You did?” Their big sister would have made an excellent dictator.

“I knew you’d offer,” Samantha said in her own defense.

“Oh, so you’re psychic. For a minute there, I thought you were just being bossy.”

“That, too,” Samantha admitted. “Really, I knew you’d offer to take her in. But she can also stay with Blake and me for a while.”

They did have three bedrooms. One was an office, but the other they used as a guest room. Now that she thought about it, Cecily was surprised her sister hadn’t insisted Bailey stay with them. What was up with that?

“No, it’s okay,” Cecily said. “I’m fine with having her.”

She and Bailey had hung out often when they were both in L.A. Bailey had even catered some mixers for Cecily’s matchmaking company. Their relationship, Cecily supposed, had the same ebb and flow as that of most sisters. As kids they’d had their squabbles, but just as often they’d banded together against a common enemy—their older sister. As they moved toward puberty they’d fought more, and sharing a room hadn’t helped. But as they’d settled into adulthood and set aside teenage pettiness, they’d come full circle to the camaraderie they’d enjoyed as little girls. It would be fun having her sister stay with her now that they didn’t have to share a room, Cecily decided.

“I booked her flight home,” Samantha said. “She’ll come in on Friday. Want to go to the airport with me to pick her up?”

“You’re leaving the office?” Cecily teased.

“Her flight doesn’t arrive until 4:30. I’ll still get some work in. Anyway, want to ride shotgun?”

“Of course. You knew I would.”

She could hear the smile in her sister’s voice when she said, “Yes, I did. I’m glad she’s coming back.” Samantha added, “She belongs here.”

As far as Samantha was concerned, Icicle Falls was the center of the universe. She wasn’t a big-city kind of girl, and she’d never understood when Cecily moved away to start her business.

But she’d had to get out from under the shadow of Samantha Sterling, Super Achiever, and establish her own identity. Maybe it had been the same for Bailey.

Or it could have had something to do with Bailey’s best friends, the twins Mitsy and Bitsy, moving down there. They’d filled her head with dreams of riches and success and her eyes full of stars. Literally.

Cecily felt bad for her little sister. Bailey had hit L.A. with such high hopes, and they’d all been stomped to pieces.

It was a shame because Bailey was a kitchen queen. She’d always loved puttering in the kitchen with their mother, and Cecily could still remember her sister at the age of five, up on a stool, wearing an apron that was way too big for her and rolling out the leftover bits of piecrust Mom had given her. Not content to simply sprinkle them with cinnamon sugar, she’d experimented with everything from jam to taco seasoning. By the time she was in high school she was dreaming up her own cake and cookie recipes. Yes, when it came to creating in the kitchen, her sister was truly talented.

So were a lot of people in L.A., and many of them never made it. Bailey wouldn’t either now. At least not down there. But there was no reason she couldn’t come home and start a catering business in Icicle Falls. With Samantha and Blake close by to advise her on the business end of things, it was bound to be a success. Cecily decided to suggest that to her once she was done mourning the death of her caterer-to-the-stars dream.

Meanwhile, Cecily needed to choose what to wear. She finally settled on a short-sleeved black top and a black skirt with white polka dots. She put on heels and a pink pearl bracelet—a gift from her first fiancé—and was ready to go.

Her sensible self asked why she was bothering. She shouldn’t be making a habit of going out with Todd Black. She decided to ignore her sensible self, especially when Todd showed up at her door, handsome in Dockers and a blue polo shirt. Good Lord, if there was a more handsome man than this one, she didn’t know where he was.

“You look great,” he said, checking her out. “But then, you always do.”

She ignored that blatant flattery and stepped out the door. As they started down the building’s stairs to the parking lot, something occurred to her and she stopped. “I should change.”

“Don’t ever change. I like you just the way you are,” he teased.

“I can’t ride on a motorcycle in a skirt.”

“You won’t have to. Mom let me use the car tonight,” he joked as he nudged her to begin moving again.

“You have a car?”

“Well, okay, my truck. You okay with that?”

“Of course,” she said. What did he think she was, some sort of car snob?

“So,” he said as he climbed behind the wheel. “I hope you like action films. That’s what’s playing at the Falls Cinema.”

She preferred romantic comedies but said, “That’s fine.”

“That’s fine,” he repeated as he turned the key in the ignition. “Hmm. Chick speak for, ‘It’ll have to do.’”

“You sure know a lot about women,” she said.

He shot her a grin. “I know a few things.” Then he added, “But no man knows everything about women. That’s why we’re all so fascinated by you. You’re a never-ending mystery.”

Why did practically everything he said, every look he gave her, make her tingle? It was ridiculous, really, like being in middle school all over again. But the darn tingle was there, and thinking about the trouble it could cause made her nervous.

To cover her nerves, she gave a snort. “Has anyone ever told you you’re full of it?”

“A few people.”

“Were they all women?” she asked sweetly.

He didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he nodded at the radio, where some hip-hop singer was reciting lyrics to the underlying hypnotic pulse of a bass. “Feel free to find something you like.”

“I’m surprised you’re not listening to country music,” she said, searching for a pop station.

“I listen to that, too. I like just about everything.”

“Well, that makes you easy to please.” The words were barely out of her mouth before she realized she’d handed him yet another opening for a double entendre.

His smile was positively sly. “I am.”

“I thought you said you had a serious side.”

“I do.”

“I’m not convinced. Tell me one thing you can be serious about.”

“Taxes. How’s that?”

“Impressive. That’s it?”

“Death and taxes.”

“How about relationships?”

“Those are pretty serious things, too.” He pulled up in front of Zelda’s, shut off the engine and turned to her. “You think I’m just looking for a hookup, don’t you?”

“That did cross my mind.”

“I don’t know where this is going, but I want to find out. Don’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. Did she really want to risk a third heartbreak?

“Don’t worry. We’ll take it one kiss at a time,” he said and opened his door. She started to open hers. “Uh-uh,” he cautioned, reaching across the seat and stopping her. “My mama raised me to be a gentleman.”

“What happened?” Cecily retorted, but she waited for him to walk around and open the door for her.

“See,” he said, “I’m not a total Philistine.”

“How do you even know what a Philistine is?”

“Hey, I told you. My mama raised me right. I went to Sunday school.”

Cecily rolled her eyes and slipped out of the car.

Zelda’s was one of the most popular restaurants in Icicle Falls, specializing in Northwest cuisine. As with all the shops and restaurants in town, it boasted hanging baskets overflowing with petunias and geraniums. The glass door had the restaurant’s name scrawled across it in gold script and featured the image of a flapper.

Inside, the place was packed with people in town for the weekend to celebrate the Maifest festival, as well as locals. At one table she caught sight of Gerhardt Geissel, who owned Gerhardt’s Gasthaus, out with his wife and another couple. The women were dressed in dirndls and the men in lederhosen, an obvious sign that they’d taken part in the late-afternoon performance by their folk-dancing troupe in the town square. Pat Wilder and Ed York occupied another table. It was only a matter of time before those two made their relationship official, and Cecily had a feeling that by Christmas Pat would be sporting a diamond on her left hand. And there, by the window... Her heart rate picked up, and she looked away quickly, trying to pretend she hadn’t seen Luke Goodman with his mother and his daughter.

There was no need to feel self-conscious. She’d made it clear to both Luke and herself that she wanted to be only friends.

Still, whenever she ran into him, at the office or anywhere else, she was aware of something between them. She knew it was attraction on his part. What was it for her? Luke didn’t hit her zing-o-meter the way Todd did. But she still felt a pull, and that was what bothered her because it wasn’t strong enough to encourage him.

It wouldn’t be fair. Not when Todd had the effect on her that he had. What she felt for Luke was like the pull of the tide. What she felt when she was with Todd was more like a tidal wave. And she wanted that. She wanted romance with a capital R. She wanted to be crazy in love with a man who was crazy in love with her.

But she also wanted someone she could trust. Could she trust Todd Black?

The smile he was giving her as they waited for their table certainly looked genuine.

Still, looks could be deceiving. She’d learned that the hard way, and she had two diamond rings to prove it.

Reg, Fiancé Number One, had pursued her with everything from flowers to wine-country jaunts, but six months into their engagement she’d learned that his old girlfriend had come back on the scene. It would have been nice if he’d shared that information with her instead of seeing the other woman on the side. She’d set Reg free to continue stoking the fires with his old flame and dedicated herself to her business.

Then along came Fiancé Number Two, a charming insurance salesman who liked to salsa dance and was an amazingly good listener. This time she was sure she’d made a wise choice. But her insurance salesman, who’d seemed so stable on the outside, turned out to be as stable as a three-legged chair. Marcus had money problems. He was constantly borrowing from Cecily, promising that he’d pay her back and then conveniently forgetting the entire conversation. Marcus finally declared bankruptcy and left for greener pastures, where he found a rich cougar who wanted to buy more than a whole-life policy.

Her matchmaking business hadn’t done much for her faith in men, either. It sure would have been refreshing (no, make that a shock) to meet just one man who didn’t have specific requests regarding his dream woman’s appearance. One man who, instead of asking her to introduce him to a woman with boobs the size of watermelons or a nice, tight ass, had said, “Find me my soul mate.”

No wonder that when she returned to Icicle Falls she’d had it with men, lost her confidence in Cupid. But with her sister Samantha a living testimonial for happily-ever-after and Todd Black chipping away at her defenses, here she was, caving and giving the brat with the bow and arrow one last chance. And hoping her famous matchmaking instincts finally kicked in on her own behalf.

Charlene Masters (Charley to her friends), who owned Zelda’s, was at her regular post at the reservation podium, greeting her customers. She was another ambassador for true love. After divorcing her cheating husband, who’d then returned, just to bring her more misery, she’d met her Mr. Perfect and was now enjoying newlywed bliss. It could be done.

The question for Cecily was who to do it with. If only she could put Todd Black and Luke Goodman in some giant machine and meld them into one. Todd’s sexiness coupled with Luke’s dependability—now that would be her perfect man.

You don’t know that Todd’s undependable, she reminded herself. Heck, he owned a business and a house. That required a certain level of dependability. But there was no getting around those bad-boy vibes he gave off. Todd Black, the pirate. Pirates didn’t settle down and raise families. And she was ready to get married, wanted to start a family. So, what the heck was she doing going out with him?

Charley greeted her with a surprised “Cec?” then recovered enough to greet Todd. “We’ve got a nice corner table for you,” she told him and led the way to the far end of the dining area.

Which meant they had to pass Luke’s table. Cecily was very aware of Todd’s hand on her back as they approached, and of Luke’s assessing and not-so-happy gaze. She felt an uncomfortable warmth creeping over her cheeks and tried to cool it by telling herself she had nothing to feel awkward about. To prove it, she stopped to say a quick hello and introduced her date. The men shook hands, but it was far from a hearty handshake. They reminded her of boxers touching gloves before a match.

“Todd owns The Man Cave,” Cecily said to Luke.

He gave Todd a brief nod. “I’ve seen it.”

With the giant Neanderthal in lederhosen painted on the outside, it was hard to miss. “Luke’s our production manager at Sweet Dreams,” she said to Todd.

“Great place to work,” Todd said, giving Cecily one of his killer smiles.

“Yeah, it is,” Luke agreed. “The Sterling family means a lot to me.” It was said pleasantly enough but, judging by Luke’s stiff posture and narrowed eyes, it was a warning of sorts.

Luke’s family was already on dessert, wild huckleberry pie for him, coffee for his mom and a strawberry sundae for his daughter. “I was really good today, so I got to go out with Daddy and have ice cream,” Serena told Cecily.

“Aren’t you glad you were good?” Cecily asked.

Serena nodded vigorously. “Were you good, too?”

“Something like that,” Cecily said. She could imagine what Todd would do with that remark.

Before he could even try, Cecily said, “Well, enjoy your evening,” and she hurried after Charley.

* * *

Luke wasn’t hungry anymore. He pushed away his plate.

“Daddy, aren’t you going to eat your pie?” Serena asked, obviously shocked by such waste.

“Daddy’s had enough,” he said.

He’d been trying to convince Cecily Sterling to give him a chance ever since she’d returned to Icicle Falls. And she would have by now if it wasn’t for that damn Todd Black. Luke had seen him in Bavarian Brews, putting the moves on her. The guy was slick and good-looking. How did an average man compete with that?

“He who hesitates,” his mother said softly.

He could pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about, but she wouldn’t buy it. “She doesn’t think we’re a match.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t take her word for it. From what Muriel has let slip over the last couple of years, the girl wouldn’t recognize Prince Charming if he slayed a dragon right in front of her.”

“I know who Prince Charming is,” Serena piped up. “He dances with the princess at the ball.”

Luke had tried that at the Sweet Dreams chocolate ball a couple of years back. He’d probably do better slaying a dragon. “Come on, girls. Let’s go home.” Zelda’s had lost its appeal for him.

* * *

Once Cecily and Todd were seated, Charley wished them bon appétit. The look she gave Cecily added, “I expect to hear all about this later.” Then she left them alone with their menus.

“Just so you know, you don’t have to be good on my account,” Todd teased.

Cecily made a face at him. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist saying something. At least you didn’t do it in front of Luke.”

“Is he my competition?”

“I don’t know.” Where had that come from? Of course she knew. She wasn’t interested in Luke that way. “Not really.”

Todd slung an arm over the back of his chair and regarded her. “So, our heroine is conflicted.”

There went her cheeks, warming up again.

“It’s okay,” Todd said. “I’m not afraid of a little competition. I think I can convince you who the better man is.”

And later that night, as they sat in front of her place in his truck, he set about showing her just how superior he was. When she finally got out, her clothes were mussed and her brain was foggy. And she had another date with Todd Black.

* * *

Todd drove home wearing a confident smile. Cecily Sterling had kept him dangling like a string of Christmas lights long enough. Now he was done playing games. She was going to be his. Too bad for the Sweet Dreams dude. But in the battle for the babe, that was how it always went, how it had always gone. One guy got the girl and the other one walked away with a big L for loser on his forehead.

Todd hadn’t become the pro ball player his dad had wanted him to be, but there was one sport he’d excelled at and that was getting girls. (He and his brother both had charm in spades and they’d made good use of it.) And for a teenage boy that kind of success was a lot more gratifying than what his dad had wanted for him.

He’d done other things besides chase girls. By sophomore year in high school he’d decided he needed to work a little harder if he planned to go to college, so he’d pulled up his grades and gotten a 4.0. He’d even turned out for track his junior year (although the old man was not impressed). Still he’d done well, been pretty fast.

But he made his best time with the opposite sex. In college he’d even gotten close to buying a ring, but the nearer he got to hitting the jewelry store for a diamond, the less enthusiastic he became about that relationship. And the more possessive she became. They’d finally had one too many fights and broken up. Just as well. He hadn’t been ready. He still wasn’t. It would take an exceptional woman to pin him down.

Cecily’s perfect features and baby-blue eyes came to mind. Women didn’t get any more exceptional than her. Besides being beautiful, she was smart. He liked that. And he liked that she hadn’t fallen all over herself to be with him. He appreciated a challenge, liked the fact that she kept the fence high.

But now it was time to jump the fence, time to get this thing moving. She wanted to be with him, even though she’d been trying to hide it ever since they’d met, and God knew he wanted to be with her, more than he’d wanted to be with a woman in a long time.

Flowers always helped fuel a relationship, so Monday morning he went into Lupine Floral.

“Be still, my heart. It’s Mr. Gorgeous,” Kevin, one of the owners, teased him.

“That’s me,” Todd said. “Can you guys send some flowers for me today?”

“Of course. Who are we sending to and how much do you want to spend?”

“About fifty bucks, I guess. They need to go to Cecily Sterling over at Sweet Dreams.”

“Oh, my. From Mr. Gorgeous to Ms. Beautiful. Are you two an item now?”

“Just hanging out,” Todd said.

“Uh-huh,” Kevin said with a knowing nod. “Hanging out never gets flowers.”

“Sure it does, if you’re a nice guy like me. Now, what have you got?”

Kevin led him to the refrigerator case that bloomed with a variety of arrangements. “Come and see.”

Todd trailed him over there. Flowers were flowers, as far as he was concerned. But women seemed to like roses. “How about these?” he asked and pointed to a vase of white and pink rosebuds with some kind of greens stuck in with them.

“Oh, boring,” Kevin said.

Okay, they were going to stand here all day discussing the artistic merits of flowers. “You pick one.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d send this one,” Kevin said, reaching in for a gaudy bouquet. “Orange Asiatic lilies, fuchsia carnations, red Peruvian lilies, lavender chrysanthemums and, of course, the requisite greens, all in a glass bubble bowl.”

“Works for me,” Todd said and got out his credit card. And the sooner it worked, the better he’d like it.

* * *

Flowers arrived for Cecily Monday afternoon. The card that came with them was signed, Thinking about Saturday and smiling, Todd.

That made her smile, too. It had been a good date, especially that close encounter at the end.

But should she take the risk and allow herself to get serious about him? Was he the get-serious type? She still had her doubts.

She was just leaving to meet Charley for coffee at Bavarian Brews when Luke caught up with her on her way out. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Oh, boy. She already knew what he wanted to talk about, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. But this was a talk they needed to have. She nodded, and he escorted her around the side of the factory building.

“So, you and that guy—”

“Todd Black,” she corrected.

“Are you two serious?”

It was the same question she’d been asking herself since Saturday night. “That was only dinner and a movie.” And...she wasn’t going to tell Luke about the rest of it.

He propped a hand against the brick wall, bringing himself closer to where she stood. “I like movies. And dinner. And dancing.” She knew what he was referring to. She’d danced with him during the chocolate ball at her family’s first chocolate festival. The memory spread an unexpected warmth through her body. This was uncomfortable. And confusing.

“Let me take you out,” Luke said. “Have dinner with me.”

“We work together. It would be awkward.”

“I promise not to make it awkward.” He leaned in closer, and her nerve endings began to wake up. “All I’m asking is that you give me a chance.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“No Sterling woman would pick the first vendor who wanted to do business with Sweet Dreams Chocolates. Don’t you think you should be just as discerning when you’re doing business of the heart?”

She’d never thought of Luke as a man of many words, especially poetic words like the ones he’d just uttered.

“A chance—that’s all I want,” he said. “At least consider it.”

She nodded.

Satisfied with that, he pushed away from the wall and let her continue to Bavarian Brews.

Except when she entered her favorite coffee shop she saw Todd inside, waiting in line to order. She did a quick about-face. After her encounter with Luke, she wasn’t ready for one with Todd, even if he had sent her flowers. Anyway, she was already feeling jittery. Probably the last thing she needed was caffeine.

No, the last thing she needed was to complicate her life by dating two different men. What on earth was she going to do?


Chapter Four (#u41e1ead5-8ff4-59a5-a7f7-76ae0b53d248)

Cecily was halfway down the street when Charley caught up with her.

“Bavarian Brews is that way,” Charley teased.

“Sorry. I was going to call you.” Once she got safely away. “I decided I should cut down on my coffee consumption.”

“Does that mean I’m going to have to pump you about your love life right here in the middle of the street?”

“There’s nothing to pump.”

Charley nodded cynically. “Sure. You just happened to run into Todd Black the other night and decided to share a table at my place.”

“It was only dinner.” Cecily glanced in the direction of the coffee shop. The last thing she wanted was to be standing here when Todd came out. “Give me a rain check on the coffee, okay? I’ve got to get back to the office.”

“Okay.” Charley nodded again. “You be careful, buddy. I know he’s hot, but I don’t want to see you get burned.”

“I won’t,” Cecily said as much to herself as to Charley.

Her friend was right. It was silly to take a chance on getting hurt, especially when a woman could pick a solid, dependable man. Cecily hurried back to Sweet Dreams Chocolates and went straight to Luke’s office.

She found him at his desk, frowning in concentration and typing on his computer keyboard with two fingers. He saw her and smiled hopefully. “Hi there. What brings you to my corner of the neighborhood?”

“Dinner. Are you still interested?”

His smile broadened. “Absolutely. How about Friday?”

She didn’t want Bailey to spend her first Friday home alone. “Saturday?”

“I can do that. Schwangau?”

That was certainly a more impressive first date than playing pinball in a seedy tavern. Cecily’s mind started to wander from the tavern to her first kiss at Todd’s house.

She firmly jerked her thoughts off that trail. “Schwangau sounds great.”

“Pick you up at six?”

“Sure,” she said. And then it seemed there was nothing left to say. She turned to go.

“Cecily.”

She turned back.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

She nodded.

She’d barely returned to her desk when her cell phone rang. It was Todd, and the very sound of his voice revved her hormones.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she said. “They’re beautiful.”

“Just like the woman I sent them to. When are you coming back to my cave to play some more pinball?” he asked. Then, before she could answer, he added, “Oh, yeah. That doesn’t count as a date. So how about dancing at The Red Barn on Friday night?”

“Isn’t Friday a big night at The Man Cave?”

“I’ll give myself the night off for bad behavior.”

Not interested. Just say it. “My sister’s moving back to town, and I’m spending Friday with her.”

“Oh? Where’s she staying?”

“With me.”

“No coming back to your place for a drink after our next date, then,” he said. “And, speaking of...if you can’t do Friday, how about Saturday?”

“Sorry. I’m busy.”

“How long does it take to unpack your sister’s suitcase?”

“I’m not busy with her.”

There was a long silence before he said, “Oh.” Then, “Anyone I know?”

Now the silence was on Cecily’s end. She should come right out and tell him it wasn’t going to happen between them. She was going in a new, smart direction. With Luke.

“Let me guess. The competition.”

Okay, since he asked. “Yes.” Luke was a much better candidate for a long-term relationship. And for fatherhood. He was already a family man, which meant he was solid and dependable, not wired for breaking hearts like some people.

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to say something inane like ‘have a good time,’” Todd said. “You won’t have half as much fun as you had with me, you know.”

“There’s more to life than fun,” she said primly.

“Thanks for enlightening me. Seriously, I’m interested in you, Cecily, and I’m not going away just because some other man is, too. Well, unless at some point you want me to. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a stalker.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“One of my many good qualities,” he said. “Talk to you later.”

He did have good qualities, Cecily thought as she ended the call. He was smart and funny, and he’d proved he could stay calm in the face of trouble. He was obviously responsible enough to own a business. But was he ready to settle down and have a family? It kept coming back to that. Todd Black was a ladies’ man, and she couldn’t really see him staying with one woman.

But if he could...

Her thoughts were interrupted by another call, this one from her friend Margo James in L.A. “Hey, you,” said Margo. “I’m sitting here in front of a cracker box of a house that’s going for a mil, waiting for my client, and figured I’d give you a call. How’s life in Small Town, U.S.A.? You ready to come back to the big city yet?”

California had the sun, and when she’d gone down for a visit in January, she’d gotten a big dose of it. But that hadn’t been enough to make her want to give up the fresh air and beautiful scenery of Icicle Falls. She’d found her footing in her hometown, made new friends, carved out a life. She still didn’t have her love life sorted out, but then, she hadn’t exactly gotten it sorted out in sunny California, either.

“No. The weather’s beautiful up here right now. You should come visit.”

“If I did, you’d probably make me go hiking or introduce me to some hairy mountain man. Speaking of men, guess who’s engaged.”

“Jessica Long.”

“Aw, she told you. Or else you’re psychic.”

It wouldn’t have taken any great mental gifts to know that Jessica was on the verge of getting a ring. When Cecily had been down in January, Jessica and her boyfriend hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. They’d been a pro bono match-up Cecily had arranged, just two friends she’d thought would enjoy each other. And she’d been right.

“Hardly,” she said. “Anyone could see where that was heading.”

“Well, I’m jealous. When are you going to find me someone perfect?”

“After I find someone for me,” Cecily said.

“You’ve got two men after you. Don’t be greedy. By the way, Darby and Ken are pregnant.”

Why did it feel as if everyone these days was either getting engaged or getting pregnant? “Well, they’ve been trying for a year,” Cecily reminded both Margo and herself.

“Yeah, I know,” Margo said. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t dumped Maurice. He wasn’t all that bad.”

He’d cheated on her. Twice. “Yeah, he was,” Cecily said gently.

“Okay, yeah, he was.” Margo sighed. “I don’t know why this whole man-woman thing has to be so hard. I think I’m going to become a lesbian.”

Cecily laughed. “That won’t be happening anytime soon. You like men too much.”

“Yeah, though sometimes I wonder why.”

“Hey, if it was easy, what would we have to complain about?”

“I could always find something, trust me.” There was a moment of silence on the phone, followed by, “Seriously, do you sometimes wonder if you’ll ever get it right?”

“All the time,” Cecily said.

“Oh, well. If I can’t have great sex, I’ll have to settle for making a huge commission on this dog of a house I’m about to show. Oh, and this is my client pulling up. I’d better get my game face on.”

“Go for it.”

“Ciao,” Margo said airily.

Cecily went back to writing a product description for their newest chocolate flavors. It would be nice if, for once in her life, she could get those matchmaking instincts that worked so well for everyone else to work on her own behalf.

* * *

Bailey looked out the plane window at the lush trees and lawns below. Federal Way was now in view, which meant that within minutes the plane would be landing at Sea-Tac airport outside Seattle. Both her sisters were coming to pick her up, and her mother was home preparing all her favorite foods—mushroom lasagna, chicken Caesar salad and chocolate cake. It was the same chocolate cake her mother had taught her to make when she was twelve, the same recipe she used when she catered parties and needed mini cupcakes.

Those days were now gone. Her business was dead. So, why had she packed up so many of her kitchen tools and shipped them to Icicle Falls? What a fool. She’d spent a fortune sending home things that would only remind her of her failure.

Well, a girl still needed mini muffin tins and baking sheets and measuring cups and spoons and mixing bowls, for crying out loud. Maybe not a case of cute cupcake holders or tiered serving trays or pastry bags. But still, people would be having birthdays. And baby showers. She’d continue to make fun dishes and treats. She just wouldn’t be doing it for a living now.

What would she be doing? She blinked hard and told herself not to be a baby. No more crying. She was so done with crying.

“Almost home,” said her seatmate, an older man with silver hair.

He was single and lived in Seattle. He’d been a good listener, nodding sympathetically while she told him her woes. He owned a company that distributed seafood, and she’d thought he’d be perfect for her mom. But he hadn’t been remotely interested in hearing about her sweet, pretty mother. He’d wanted to know if she ever dated older men. That had been icky and awkward.

She’d told him she had a boyfriend back in Icicle Falls. What a lie! She had no one back in Icicle Falls. She blinked again and wiped at the corner of her eye.

“Is your boyfriend coming to meet you?” asked Mr. Lech.

“No, my sisters will.” Her fabulous sisters, who were always there for her. Another tear tried to sneak out of the corner of her eye. She wiped it away and reminded herself that she had much to be grateful for.

And there was a rainbow at the end of this storm. Although her career was over, her love life could take off. There was more than family in Icicle Falls. Brandon Wallace was there. She smiled. Brandon Wallace, ski bum and resident heartbreaker, had been cracking her heart like a jawbreaker off and on since they were kids. In fact, the last time he’d dumped her for another woman had been the final straw. She’d been more than happy to move to L.A.

But that was then. She was a big girl now and more than ready to show Brandon what he’d been missing. Her career might have fizzled, but that didn’t mean her love life had to.

The plane landed with a couple of bumps and then taxied to the Jetway. Okay, she told herself, you are now approaching your new life. It will be an adventure. She only hoped this adventure ended in success.

The plane stopped and everyone hurried to stand up and wait.

“I hope everything works out for you,” the older man said. He handed her his business card. “If you ever need anything.”

What she really needed was a trip back in time and a chance to turn down catering Samba Barrett’s party.

Her suitcase took forever to appear on the baggage carousel, and after seeing her lose her balance trying to grab it and nearly landing on the carousel herself, Bailey’s former seatmate came to the rescue and pulled it off. Not an easy feat, considering how big it was and how much she’d crammed into it. He then reminded her...if she needed anything.

She thanked him and hurried off before he could offer to escort her and her suitcase and carry-ons to her car. Where were Sammy and Cec?

She was about to call when she spotted them. She waved, and they came running to hug her. Oh, those hugs felt good.

“Welcome home,” Samantha said.

“I’m so glad to see you guys!” When a girl felt beaten down, there was nothing like family to help her get back on her feet.

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Cecily told her.

“Mom’s home putting the finishing touches on dinner, and we’re under strict orders not to get sidetracked shopping in Seattle,” Samantha added, “so let’s get out of here.”

Great idea. She could see her pal from the plane approaching. She gave him a little wave and started for the parking garage at a quick clip.

“Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” Samantha said. “You picked up a friend.”

“Actually, I thought he’d be perfect for Mom,” Bailey began.

“Don’t be matching Mom up,” Samantha said sternly. “She’s not ready for another man.”

“I think she is,” Bailey insisted. After what Samantha had gone through cleaning up the business mess left behind by their mother’s last husband, Bailey understood her sister’s reluctance to see their mother find a replacement. Still, Mom deserved to be happy. “What do you think?” she asked Cecily. Cec had been a matchmaker. When it came to love, she was an expert. Well, except for when it came to herself. Why her sister was still single was a mystery to Bailey.

“I think it’s really good to have you back,” Cecily said diplomatically.

“And just in time,” Samantha put in. “We could use help in the office.”

The office? Was she serious? “I can’t type. Remember?” Bailey reminded her. “Anyway, I don’t know if I want to work in the office.” That probably sounded ungrateful. After all, Samantha had paid for her ticket home. And Sweet Dreams Chocolates was the family business.

They were at Samantha’s car now. She turned and stared at Bailey as if she’d announced she was going to run off and join a cult.

Bailey’s face sizzled, and she hung her head. She was a terrible ingrate. But she still didn’t want to work in the Sweet Dreams office.

Samantha opened the trunk and deposited Bailey’s suitcase. “Okay,” she said slowly. “What do you want to do?”

Be a caterer. But after what had happened, she was finished with that. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“You’ve got to do something,” Samantha said.

“You’ll think of something.” Cecily gave Bailey another reassuring hug. “You just need some time to find your feet.”

Yeah. So there. Gosh, Sammy could be so bossy sometimes.

“You will,” Samantha agreed. “And whatever you need, we’re there for you.”

“I’ve got what I need—you guys,” Bailey said, forgetting her momentary irritation and looking gratefully at her sisters. Even though her older sister was bossy, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family. And Cecily was always so supportive and sweet. Bailey was lucky to have them both.

Her sisters spent the ride back home filling her in on everything that had been going on in Icicle Falls.

“Bill Will has a new girlfriend,” Cecily told her.

“Oh, who?” Bailey asked. Billy Williams, affectionately known as Bill Will, was one of the town’s characters. He worked on a nearby guest ranch and spent a lot of time hanging out at Zelda’s or The Red Barn. Everyone liked Bill Will, but he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, so he often got passed over in favor of smarter men.

“Ashley Armstrong,” Samantha said in disgust.

“Hey, I hear she’s finally getting serious about going back to school,” Cecily added from the backseat.

“Yeah, well, with her spousal maintenance about to dry up, she’d better,” Samantha said.

“I think she’s trying to get her act together,” Cecily said. “I hope she does.”

“I just hope Bill Will doesn’t get hurt.” Samantha looked over at Bailey. “Maybe you should go out with him.”

Right. Bailey turned around and grinned at Cecily. “Would Bill Will and I be a match?”

Cecily wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so. I have a feeling there’s someone better waiting for you.”

Brandon Wallace.

“Brandon’s not in town,” Samantha said as if reading her mind.

Just when her spirits had been lifting. Darn, it was hard to rekindle a romance when one or the other of them was always off somewhere. “Where is he?”

“He moved to Jackson Hole,” Samantha said.

“Jackson Hole?” What was there? “Why?”

“Ski resort, of course.”

“He’s got a girlfriend,” Cecily said gently.

“A...girlfriend?” Brandon Wallace, one of the main reasons Bailey had decided she should, indeed, come home, had a girlfriend? “Are you sure?”

Samantha nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“How long has he had this girlfriend?” And why hadn’t anyone told her?

“According to his mom, they met after he moved there in January.”

“That’s not very long. Is it serious?” Bailey asked in a small voice. It couldn’t be in just a few months.

“Olivia seems to think so,” Samantha replied. “She figures they’ll be engaged by Christmas.”

What did Olivia Wallace know, anyway? Bailey sneaked up a hand to wipe away yet another tear.

“You are way too good for him anyway,” Samantha said.

“He was never right for you,” Cecily told her.

And what did her sisters know?

Seattle was far behind them now, and the mountains in the distance beckoned. Welcome home.

Bailey scowled at them. Phooey!


Chapter Five (#ulink_9421da6a-eb10-57a6-a352-1967bce7c680)

When Bailey walked into Muriel Sterling’s rented cottage, it wasn’t hard to see that her mother had gone to a lot of trouble to make her homecoming a celebration. A bouquet of tulips sat in a vase on the counter, along with a batch of peanut butter–chocolate chip cookies divided three ways and wrapped in pink cellophane and tied with pink ribbon—big-girl party favors. There was even a welcome-home present for Bailey, a signed copy of her mother’s latest book.

“I thought it might be helpful,” she said as Cecily got busy pouring tea.

Bailey read the title, which was in flowing embossed script. New Beginnings. Was that what you called this?

She tried to look appreciative. “Thanks, Mama.” And then, before her mother could go into one of her soft-spoken pep talks, she changed the subject. “I smell mushroom lasagna.”

“And garlic bread,” her mother added. “I hope you girls are hungry.”

“Of course,” Samantha said. “We’ve been saving our appetites.”

“No stop at a Starbucks on the way home?” their mother teased.

“Well, we had to do that,” Cecily said with a smile.

The next few minutes were spent companionably in the kitchen, the sisters munching on salmon pâté and crackers while they helped their mother get the food on the table.

Once Muriel had said grace, Samantha raised her mug of chocolate mint tea. “Here’s to our sister. We’re glad to have you home.”

“And to new beginnings,” Cecily proclaimed.

Bailey’s smile faltered. She’d come home in disgrace, and the romance she’d hoped to rekindle with Brandon was happening with a different woman. How was that a new beginning? But she gamely recovered and passed her plate for her mother to fill.

“I assume your sisters spent the ride over the mountains catching you up on everything that’s been going on around here,” Mama said.

Bailey nodded, and again, she had trouble keeping the smile on her face. Her mother gave back her plate, and she spent a moment contemplating the food on it. She loved mushroom lasagna, but suddenly she had no appetite.

A soft hand with a slight speckling of age spots covered hers. “Things really are going to work out,” her mother said.

Bailey nodded once more. “I know. And I’m so lucky to have all of you. It’s good to be home,” she said, bursting into tears.

And now, in addition to losing her business and finding out that the man of her dreams had fallen for some other woman, she’d ruined her welcome-home dinner. Her big sister left the table, probably in disgust, probably wondering why she’d bothered to buy such an ingrate a plane ticket home.

But, no, a couple of minutes later Samantha was back. She set a salted caramel on top of the lasagna. “Eat this,” she commanded.

As if chocolate fixed everything. But Bailey obeyed and popped it in her mouth. It didn’t fix anything, but it did make her feel better.

“Another toast,” Samantha proposed. “To the bitches who try to ruin us. May their chocolate supply dry up and their boobs fall off.”

Here Bailey was aware of her mother frowning in disapproval, and despite everything she had to smile just a little.

“Amen,” she said even as their mother murmured, “Really, Samantha.”

Sammy grinned. “It made her smile.”

For a moment. Bailey set down her mug with a frown. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’ll figure it out,” her mother assured her.

She sure hoped Mama was right.

* * *

Cecily couldn’t help feeling guilty as she got ready for her date with Luke. Her little sister was barely home, and here she was, leaving her. Bailey had a naturally happy disposition, so she’d managed to rally during the dinner at their mother’s the night before. She’d been impressed with the changes Cecily had made to the condo after buying it from Samantha, approving the sunny yellow walls and the cream-colored leather sofa and chair. She’d gotten tears in her eyes when she saw the Welcome Home, Bailey sign Cecily had hung on the door, and she’d been delighted with her room.

“This is almost as good as when we shared a room growing up,” she’d said with a smile. “I was always kind of sad when Mama and Daddy bought that bigger house and we each got our own room.”

Cecily had diplomatically kept her mouth shut on that subject. She’d enjoyed having the privacy.

“This will be fun,” Bailey had said, smiling brightly.

But later that night Cecily had heard her crying.

It was hard to come home feeling like a failure, but Cecily hoped that once some of the pain wore off, Bailey would be glad she’d decided to return. Meanwhile, she was going to have to keep working her way through the misery.

“Are you sure you don’t mind if I go out?” she asked as she came into the living room.

Bailey was parked on the couch with a can of pop, a bag of veggie chips and a stack of Oreos. She had the TV on and turned to the Food Network. Cecily looked to see what program she was watching, and Bailey quickly aimed the remote and killed it.

But not before Cecily had seen what was playing. “Isn’t that Serve It Up?”

Bailey pulled a chip out of the bag and studied it. “I was channel surfing.”

“Uh-huh.” Just what her sister needed—to sit around watching a reality TV show about successful caterers. “Why don’t you come out with us,” she suggested.

Bailey stared at her in horror. “On your date?”

“Luke wouldn’t mind.” Well, maybe he would, but Cecily was sure he’d understand.

“No,” Bailey said with a firm shake of the head. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

“If you watch that show, it’s only going to make you feel worse,” Cecily cautioned.

“I don’t think anything can make me feel worse.”

Cecily remembered how she’d tortured herself watching The Bachelorette after breaking up with Fiancé Number Two. “Trust me,” she said over her shoulder. “There’s always something that can make you feel worse. Come on,” she urged. “Come out with us.”

“No way,” Bailey said stubbornly. “I’ll be fine here. Really.”

“Okay, then promise me you won’t watch Serve It Up.”

Bailey heaved a dramatic sigh. “I promise.”

The doorbell rang and Cecily went to let Luke in. She opened the door, and there he stood, holding a single red rose and wearing a smile. Luke Goodman wasn’t the handsomest man Cecily had ever dated. He certainly didn’t have the swarthy good looks of a Todd Black. But he had a strong chin and broad shoulders. Broad enough to cry on. Hmm. Maybe he and Bailey...

“Hi,” he said and handed over the flower.

“Thanks,” she said. “That was really sweet.”

“I figured there was no sense bringing chocolate.”

She opened the door wide and invited him in.

He saw Bailey camped out on the couch and gave her a nod and a friendly smile. No chemistry there, Cecily could immediately tell. “Hi, Bailey,” he said. “You home visiting?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m...home.”

“Yeah? Did you come back to work at Sweet Dreams?”

“No. I...” She bit her lip. “I’m...I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do.”

He nodded, taking that in. “Well, it’s good to see you. Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” she said and frowned at her can of pop.

“We should get going,” Cecily said. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come with us?” she asked in one last attempt to get her sister out and having fun. She was aware of Luke next to her, blinking in astonishment.

But he recovered quickly. “Schwangau has a killer new menu.”

If she’d had any doubts (which she hadn’t), here was proof positive that Luke Goodman was a super nice man. Yes, for once in her life she was being smart about love.

Bailey passed on the offer and shooed them on their way.

“So now we have all the Sterling sisters back in Icicle Falls, huh?” Luke said as they walked to his car.

“It looks like it. Of course, she’s not exactly home because she wants to be.”

“I know.”

She glanced at him in surprise. Although why should she have been surprised? It was a small town, and, for all she knew, Luke had even contributed to Bailey’s legal war chest.

“Hey, I check out the magazine covers when I’m waiting in the checkout line, too,” he said. Then, as though he’d read her mind, he added, “Yeah, I kicked in a few bucks for the cause.”

Once inside the car, which was a hybrid, she smiled. Luke’s head practically reached the ceiling. “Do you ever get claustrophobic in this?”

“I did at first,” he admitted. “But it’s good for the environment and good for the budget, so I adjusted.”

It seemed that he’d had to adjust to a lot of things, probably the hardest being the loss of his wife. How did he manage to stay so cheerful? Wired the same as Bailey, obviously. Those two should have been a match.

But there was no understanding the heart. After all, she shouldn’t be the least bit interested in Todd Black.

She wasn’t, she told herself. Not anymore.

“I think, in the long run, your sister will be glad she came back here,” Luke said.

“Now you sound like Samantha. According to her, Icicle Falls is the center of the universe.”

He smiled. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, there are other places in the world,” Cecily said.

“But not like this one.”

She laughed. “Just how many other places have you seen?”

“Seattle.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Paris.”

The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the perfume factories! Paris was a city Cecily had always wanted to visit. “You were in Paris?”

Now his smile wasn’t quite so happy. “My wife and I went there for our honeymoon.”

“Oh.” Cecily tried to think of something else, anything else, to say, but couldn’t.

“I have great memories of our time in that city, but it has more to do with her than the spots we visited. I have this theory. Any place can be great if you’re with people you care about.”

Oh, melt. This man was too good to be true. “So, that’s why you like it here?”

He nodded. “All the people I care about are right here in Icicle Falls. Plus, I like rock climbing and hiking and fishing. And chocolate,” he said, giving her a wink. “And the family who owns the chocolate company.”

“You’re sucking up to the wrong woman. Samantha’s the one in charge,” Cecily pointed out.

“Yeah, but there’s only one Sterling woman I’m interested in,” he said.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny zing hit her. Luke Goodman had just hit her zing-o-meter. Maybe not as hard as Todd but she definitely felt it. Maybe, if she gave him a chance, he could hit it even harder.

* * *

Okay, Bailey told herself, you can’t sit around all night watching TV and eating junk food. Well, she could, but if she ate any more Oreos she was going to end up looking like a cookie jar.

So what? Cookie jars were cute. Everyone loved cookie jars. She popped another Oreo in her mouth.

If Mama could see her now, she’d say it was a waste to be eating store-bought cookies when she was such a good baker. Yeah, homemade was better.

“Except nobody ever got food poisoning from an Oreo,” she muttered and gobbled down another.

Okay, this really wasn’t helping. And it sure wouldn’t help to spend money she didn’t have on a whole new wardrobe. She shoved away the comfort food and turned off the TV.

Then wondered what to do. Whenever she was stressed or bored, she always found herself in the kitchen. Except the last thing she needed was more food. She’d be right back to the problem of developing cookie-jar hips. Anyway, if she went to the store for supplies, she was bound to run into someone she knew. Not any of her close friends, though, since they’d all moved away, but someone.

She thought of her girlfriends Mitsy and Bitsy still living it up in L.A. They were probably getting ready to go dancing at some trendy club while she sat around her sister’s place like a bored babysitter. Only boring people are boring, she reminded herself, quoting her mother’s favorite response when, as a child, she’d complained of being bored.

Quoting her mother made her remember the book she’d tossed on the guest room dresser. Other than cookbooks and Bon Appétit, she wasn’t a big reader, but her mother had obviously wanted her to read this newest book of hers. Well, she had nothing else to do.

She fetched the book and settled back on the couch with it. She ran her fingers along the gold-embossed script. New Beginnings. That was her.

She studied the artsy photograph of a red rose blooming in a blurred black-and-white garden. “Looks like a gardening book,” she muttered as she opened it to the first page. But her mother wouldn’t have given her this if she didn’t think there was something in it for her. She began to read.

Death in Winter, Growth in Spring

A garden is God’s constant reminder to us that we live in a world of change, a world of birth, death and rebirth. What happens to us is often exactly like what happens in our gardens.

What had happened to her had been nothing like what happened with the little garden she’d been growing in pots on her apartment patio. She’d lovingly watered her basil, rosemary and mint, and everything had thrived. She’d worked hard to grow her business, and that should have thrived, too.

Winter comes and the garden dies. But in reality it’s not dead. It’s merely dormant, waiting for the warmth of a new spring to bring back to life those perennials we so enjoyed the year before.

Bailey frowned. There was no bringing back her catering career.

It’s often the same with our lives. We plan for certain things and hope for positive outcomes, dream big dreams, only to see our plans crumble and our dreams die.

Now Bailey felt as though her mother had written this just for her. Was Mama psychic?

You may be mourning the death of a dream, but you don’t have to mourn without hope. Like a flower in winter experiencing a period of dormancy, use this time to heal and gather strength for spring, when a new dream will crop up.

Bailey frowned and tossed the book on the coffee table. She wasn’t going to be a caterer again, so she didn’t see how any new dream could “crop up.” Anyway, it was already spring, and she was all dead and shriveled.

What was on the Food Network now?

* * *

Luke did manage to register higher on the zing-o-meter dial later that night when he kissed Cecily at her door. It started as a soft kiss, with his fingers threading through her hair, and then got a little more adventurous with his tongue teasing the corners of her mouth. Okay, that was nice.

But was it as nice as Todd’s kiss?

Todd Black was a practiced seducer. Comparing the two men, Luke, who was Mr. Upright and Noble, and Todd, who was... Well, it was like comparing Superman and Jack Sparrow.

But she liked Jack Sparrow.

You are not going to get your heart broken again, she informed herself.

Except she didn’t know for sure that Todd was going to break her heart.

This was awful, like choosing between dark and white chocolate.

Oh, now there was a great analogy—comparing an important life choice to picking a favorite candy.

She had to make a decision. Which man do you want?

“Both” was not an acceptable answer. Anyway, you already decided.

Bailey was still parked on the couch and still vegging out in front of the TV when she came in. Different show but still the Food Network. “Did you guys have a good time?” she asked, using the remote to destroy the evidence.

“We did,” Cecily said.

“He’s a nice guy.”

Yes, he was. And a smart woman would pick the nice guy.

But when she drifted off to sleep, she found herself in a wedding gown, climbing aboard a pirate ship. And there to meet her was Todd Black wearing pirate clothes and guyliner.

“What am I doing here?” she cried, taking in the seedy ship and his equally seedy crew, who looked suspiciously like the regulars at The Man Cave.

“Hey, YOLO,” said Todd the pirate.

“You mean, yo-ho-ho,” she corrected him.

“I mean YOLO. You only live once,” he said and held out a tankard of rum.

The dream went from her drinking rum while Todd’s crew sang the same ditty sung by the Pirates in Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean ride to doing a wild tango with Todd. He was just making her walk the plank in her bra and panties when she woke up.

Oh, good grief. What was she doing?


Chapter Six (#ulink_b7ab01ec-e04f-5b06-ad9e-1b367b055697)

After church the Sterling women gathered at Samantha and Blake’s house to celebrate Mother’s Day. Blake’s parents had come over from Seattle for the occasion, and his grandparents, Tom and Janice Lind, were present, as well. Samantha had prepared a chicken casserole, and Caesar and fruit salads, and Bailey had contributed rosemary scones and a white chocolate cheesecake to round out the menu.

Cecily had made brown sugar facial scrubs for all the women, while Bailey, who was in charge of drinks and had made Bellinis, handed them to guests as they waited for Sunday brunch to make its way to the table.





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