in his black hair. “We are still friends, aren’t we?”
Now she felt silly and downright inhospitable. “Of course we are. It’s good to see you again.”
Really. It was. If only she didn’t have this bizarre chemical reaction every time he came near. At the Craggins’ wedding, she’d blamed it on an insulin reaction, though she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind even when her blood sugar was perfectly normal. Today she had no excuse at all. But she wanted an excuse because the alternative meant admitting that Cooper made her…feel things.
And she didn’t want to…feel things.
The heavenly scent of caramel cake once more wafted through the house. Thank goodness.
“Excuse me a minute, Cooper. I have to check my cakes.” She hopped up, maneuvering around the basket and toys.
Cooper followed her into the narrow kitchen, his masculine presence filling the room. Natalie tried not to notice. No male in her age range had ever been in this kitchen.
“Don’t let me interrupt anything. I just came by to…” His voice drifted off as his gaze fell to her feet. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?” She looked down at the red liquid sliding between her toes and started to giggle. “Doctor, that is not blood.”
She grabbed a paper towel and wiped her foot clean. “See? All fine now. The miracle of being a mom. We can turn blood to food coloring.”
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to wonder how you survive alone.”
He’d meant it as a joke, so Natalie tried not to be offended, but the words were exactly the kind of thing Justin would have said. She was fragile, sickly, unable to take care of herself.
Tempted to ask why he’d tracked her down, Natalie instead said, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Sounds good if it’s already made. Don’t go to extra trouble.”
“I always have coffee going on a cold day.” She poured him a cup and handed it to him. “And soup in the crock pot.”
There was something deliciously unsettling about having Cooper Sullivan in her kitchen. He gave her the willies, in a good way. Not that she was interested, but any woman would notice Cooper’s looks and class and overt sexuality, especially a woman who had barely even thought about sex in two years.
“Smart mom.” He sipped, eyes twinkling at her over the rim.
To settle her jitters, Natalie grabbed the bowl of frosting and got back to work. “I hope you don’t mind but I have a cake to decorate. The customer’s coming for it tonight at six.”
“Can I help?”
The idea of pediatric surgeon Cooper Sullivan helping her decorate anything brought a giggle. “You can taste the icings for me.”
Both eyebrows shot up hopefully. “As in more than one?”
“Uh-huh. Six or eight. I haven’t decided yet. I’m creating as I go. My friend Julie is getting married and we’re planning a big fancy bash. I’m creating something special just for her.” She shoved a tasting spoon toward him. “Try this. Too sweet? Enough vanilla bean? Be honest now.”
He took the spoon and nibbled, rolling the thick, creamy frosting around his mouth as he would a good sip of wine. After serious consideration, a stunning smile broke over his face. Oh, my. All her head alarms started going off. He was too hunky, too close, too everything.
“This is awesome,” he said around that dazzling smile. “Julie, whoever she is, will love it.”
It was only cake icing, something she made all the time, but his compliment thrilled her unduly. “Then try this other one.”
“Let me clear my palate with coffee.”
She widened her eyes at him and giggled. “By all means, clear the palate.”
She shoved a second and then a third type of frosting in his direction. He made silly, witty, and astute comments, always asking for just one more teeny bite. Taste testing with Cooper was far more fun than the frequent tastings she forced upon the other Belles.
“You know what would be even better?” he said after the third opinion was issued.
“What? Orange peel? Lemon zest?”
His grin teased. “Cake. You could run a little cake under these frostings and let me try again. I promise to give a learned, if somewhat biased, opinion.”
She’d forgotten what a fun guy Cooper could be, so different from his serious physician side. Her alarms stopped clanging. There was nothing threatening about an old friend having cake in her kitchen. She needed to get over herself.
“Let him eat cake,” she proclaimed dramatically and opened the holding bin to display rows and rows of tiny bite-size cakes. “These are fresh, made for brides to taste test next week. I always take extras for the other Belles.”
“What kind of bells are we talking about here? Jingle bells? Church bells? And they eat cake?”
With a lifter, she scooped several cake bites onto a saucer. “My coworkers. We’re called the Belles, as in Wedding Bells but with a Southern flair. The other girls serve as my official testers since I can’t try the sweets myself.”
“Brutal if you ask me, to be a cake maker who can’t eat cake. Why didn’t you become something less tempting?”
“Long story.”
He shrugged a sweater-clad shoulder. “I have time.”
“No surgery today? I thought surgeons worked day and night.”
“Only by choice. The brutal days are in residency. Once in private practice we get to have lives. At least within reason.”
For a minute the words stabbed like pinpricks. Justin had never made it this far. He’d never had time for a regular life. He’d worked such crazy hours and even when he could have been sleeping, he’d chosen to ride his motorcycle or play golf or sail. If he got three hours of sleep out of twenty-four, he considered himself rested. Now she knew how foolish that idea had been. He’d been running on three hours sleep the day he’d missed that stop sign.
“When Justin died, I needed a way to support myself and the twins so I started baking cakes.”
“You never finished your degree?”
“No.” Much to her regret, she’d quit college to take a minimum-wage job when she and Justin had first married. Then when his residency had begun, she’d gotten pregnant. When her diabetes had gone crazy and landed her on bed rest to save the twins, Justin had freaked out. She’d been scared, too, and wanted to stay home with her babies. “When the girls were two, I convinced Justin to let me take a cake decorating class.”
“Convinced him?”
“Oh, he didn’t mind if I had a hobby, but he worried about my health. Afraid I couldn’t handle the load because of my sometimes unpredictable diabetes.” She grimaced at the sad irony. “He’d be surprised at how wrong he was.”
Cooper propped a hip on her kitchen counter and looked at her for a long moment. In a quiet voice he asked, “Have things been that difficult for you?”
The kindness in his tone rattled her. Normally she didn’t share her worries with anyone but Regina or Belle. “A little.”
“What about Justin’s insurance?”
She scooted the saucer across the countertop.
“He didn’t have any.”
Cooper’s long, talented fingers paused on an inch cube of Italian cream cake. “None?”
“He kept intending to get some. After he died I found an application on his desk.”