Linda tells us all about her favourite real-life love story:

‘I love romantic stories, obviously, but real-life romances especially touch me. One of the most romantic couples I know is my son and his wife.

‘While in college, this macho firefighter worked as a shoe clerk. His uniform included a T-shirt emblazoned with the athletic store’s logo. When he phoned one evening to tell me about selling a pair of shoes to a beautiful blonde with the “prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen”, I suspected she was special.

‘Sure enough, they fell in love, and my romantic son proposed at his own birthday party, which turned out to be a surprise engagement party as well, complete with ring and roses and limo. Then, on the day of their wedding, the bride and groom celebrated their fortuitous meeting at the shoe store with one final romantic gesture. Beneath his tux, the groom wore the “Just For Feet” T-shirt. And the bride? Beneath her stunning white gown, the bride wore a carefully preserved pair of tennis shoes. Yes, those tennis shoes.

‘So, no matter where you meet your true love—at a wedding, the way Natalie and Cooper meet, or at a shoe store—here’s wishing you many, many happy-ever-afters.’

Catch up with Linda at www.lindagoodnight.com or e-mail her at Linda@lindagoodnight.com

Visit http://harlequin-theweddingplanners.blogspot.com to find out more…

WINNING THE SINGLE MUM’S HEART

BY

LINDA GOODNIGHT

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Natalie is the chef who makes cakes for The Wedding Belles. Here are her tips for personal touches that will make your own wedding cake unique and special:

Unless you are an experienced baker, start with your favourite cake mix instead of baking from scratch. It will taste good, take less time, and be more likely to turn out well. You can even make each layer a different flavour! Three layers—six-inch, eight-inch, ten-inch—should feed fifty guests.

Freeze the layers after they have been baked and cooled. This makes frosting and decorating much easier, without fear of tearing your layers.

A homemade layer cake looks professional if decorated well. Place a couple of mini calla lilies on the top layer, then stagger one on each tier, bending the stems around so that they conform to the shape of the cake. Other easy but beautiful choices for decorating are candied flowers, or fresh fruits such as raspberries, or chocolate-dipped strawberries.

NATALIE’S DREAM CREAM CHEESE ICING

4 oz real butter

1 lb real cream cheese

2 lb icing sugar

1 tsp vanilla

2 tbsp milk, if needed

In a medium bowl, beat butter and cream cheese together until smooth. Gradually add sugar. Beat on high until smooth (about 1 minute). Thin with milk to ice cake smooth; use full-strength for piping borders.

CHAPTER ONE

NATALIE THOMPSON felt a little woozy. In fact, she felt a lot woozy.

Wouldn’t it be just ducky if the cake artist collapsed on top of a vastly expensive five-layer wedding cake?

“Not now, not now,” she whispered desperately,blowing a strand of blond bangs out of her eyes. The chatter of wedding guests filing into the reception warned her to hurry.

Her fingers trembled as she made one last adjustment to the glittering cake topper. As a group of classy wedding planners, she and her best friends/coworkers, collectively known as the Wedding Belles, took pride in making other women’s dreams come true. Right now her fondest dream was to remain upright for another ten minutes.

The air in front of her eyes danced with black spots. Ten minutes might be pushing it.

Why, oh why, hadn’t she taken time to eat something? With all the activity of setting up for today’s wedding, she’d used up every drop of sugar in her body. Now her insulin had kicked in, expecting to be balanced out with a meal.

Diabetes, the bane of her existence since she was seven, could be so unforgiving.

A mountain of sugar in front of her and she dare not snitch a bite lest she destroy the picture-perfect confection that had taken days to create. Not that she was supposed to eat sugar in the first place.

Breath a bit short, she stepped back to survey the table. This was the first Christmas wedding of the season and, in keeping with the holiday theme, the cake sat on a raised pedestal beneath a beribboned archway of twinkling silver, blue and white snowflake lights. Beneath them the cake’s frosting glistened like new-fallen snow.

Draping the table in heavy white satin with wide blue bows and tiny silver bells tucked up at the corners had been Serena’s latest creation, an idea the Belles’ dress designer had brought back from the bridal show in Seattle. Natalie glanced around to find the cool, elegant blonde taking one last survey of the ballroom. Serena had also brought back something else from the bridal fair and subsequent plane crash that had scared them all to death. She’d brought back a rather wild and dangerous pilot, Kane Wiley, who had looked ready to eat her up like the last bite of creamy vanilla cheesecake.

Ah, yes. Cheesecake. Sugar. Food. Her job and her dilemma.

Everything was ready for the reception, right down to the fruit circling the dark-chocolate groom’s cake. She’d spent hours dipping and decorating those strawberries to resemble tiny tuxedos. Nobody, not even her, was going to mess that up before the bride arrived. No matter how badly her knees wobbled.

“Natalie, are you okay? You look funny.” The speaker was Regina O’Ryan, Natalie’s good friend and the Wedding Belles’ exceptionally gifted photographer. Though she always complained about her generous hips and extra ten pounds, Regina looked great these days. Glowing, happy, fulfilled. Marriage to her very own Mr. Right had done that for the lovely brunette.

People all around Natalie were falling in love faster than she could pipe leaves onto a birthday cake. Natalie was glad for them, especially Regina after all she’d been through. Truly she was. Love was great until it let you down.

A too familiar pang of bitterness pinched the center of her chest. Right now was not the time to remember. It was also not the time to slither to the gleaming tiled floor like butter-cream frosting on a July day.

She waved Regina away. The action took more effort that she’d like.

“Insulin crash. No biggie.” All Natalie’s friends knew about her unpredictable diabetic condition and fretted appropriately. She appreciated it, really she did, but she and Regina were both too busy at the moment to deal with her temperamental endocrine system. “The bride and groom cometh. Better get moving.”

Regina glanced in the direction of the arched doorway, and her soft brown eyes widened. “Eek. Can’t miss the grand entrance.” She pointed at the fruit display across the room. “Go eat something. Now.”

Regina snapped one more shot of the bride’s table and then hurried off, red heels clicking on white tile.

Eat something. Good advice. That’s exactly what Natalie had to do.

Oh, for a mouthful of richly frosted, sweet buttery cake. But she’d long ago come to grips with the fact that she could have her cake but she couldn’t eat it. Which was exactly why she was a cake artist, or cake fairy as she preferred to be called.

On the opposite side of the grand ballroom, rows and rows of fruit cascaded around a tiered table. Strawberries, grapes, melon, pineapple all beckoned. The table looked miles away, but fruit was one thing she could snitch without it being noticed. She edged in that direction, the wobble in her knees more pronounced. Usually careful about her diet, she’d been running late after the twins’ babysitter had canceled at the last minute, a victim of the evil twenty-four-hour virus. With the scramble to get the girls dressed and driven to day care, she simply had not had time to think of food.

But, boy, was she thinking about it now. A cluster of big juicy green grapes practically screamed her name. Just as she reached for it, a male voice stopped her.

“Natalie!”

Like a kid caught stealing candy, she yanked her hand away and spun around. The room tilted.

“Hey.” A pair of powerful hands gripped her upper arms. “Steady, there. Are you okay? Am I that much of a surprise?”

Surprise? What was he talking about? She blinked up at the expensive-smelling guest. He was tall, but then everyone was tall in her world. At just under five feet, she was vertically challenged. The only people shorter were her eight-year-old daughters.

“Natalie?” The man’s voice reminded her of someone, but she was zoning out. She hated zoning out, but that was the price she sometimes paid when her sugar levels plummeted. And were they ever plummeting! Any minute now she’d slide to the floor and make a spectacle of herself.

“Fruit,” she whispered, knowing she’d feel like an idiot later, but right now she had to have food. “Diabetes.”

The stranger didn’t hesitate. With rapid efficiency, he slid two pieces of the sweetest, most heavenly melon between her lips. Then, arm around her waist, he guided her onto a chair against the wall. If she hadn’t felt so awful, she might have enjoyed having a man take such good care of her again.

Well, on second thought, maybe not. The one thing in her life she’d sworn never to do again was depend on anyone, especially a man, to take care of her. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. Not that Justin hadn’t loved her. That was the problem. He’d loved her too much. So much that she’d depended on him for every single thing.

A stab of loss penetrated the fog of diabetes.

“I’d forgotten you’re a diabetic,” the deep gentle voice rumbled as he poked more fruit into her mouth. The brush of manly fingers against her lips would have been erotic in another setting.

He’d forgotten? Who was this guy?

She tried to look at him, but her eyes wouldn’t open.

She chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, grateful to whomever he was.

In the background, the reception was in full swing, the sound muffled by the roaring in her head. The DJ announced the first dance, and a sexy version of “Let’s Get It On” filled the air.

Natalie thought it an odd choice for the first dance. If she were the one getting married, she’d have chosen something sentimental and romantic. But then, she was never getting married again. Mr. Right came along only once if a girl was really lucky. She’d had her chance and look how that had turned out.

“Natalie,” her rescuer said, tapping at her lips. “One more bite.”

Like an obedient bird, she opened her mouth. Her heart wasn’t racing quite as fast now and her head had begun to clear.

The fructose was doing its job.

She raised her eyelids, blinked them clear. Concerned eyes as warm and rich as chocolate ganache stared back. Familiar eyes. Familiar face. Dressed in a dark suit, he crouched in front of her, one hand balancing a plate of fruit on a muscular thigh.

Natalie’s heart thumped once, hard.

“Cooper?” she gasped. “What are you doing here? Is that really you?”

Dr. Cooper Sullivan flashed the wide, sexy grin that had stolen the hearts of any number of coeds in college. “It was me a few minutes ago when I looked in the mirror.”

“But you’re in California.” She sat up straight, shaking the cobwebs out of her head.

Cooper looked around, mouth quirked. “I am?”

“Well, you’re obviously here, but I mean…” She was making a total idiot of herself. That’s what she’d meant. But then, she could always blame the sugar drop. The truth was, she hadn’t seen the man in years, but articulating that sentiment didn’t seem possible at the moment.

Cooper let her off the hook. “Right now I’m attending a colleague’s wedding. Mutual friends, perhaps?”

“No, no. Clients. I’m working.” She nodded toward the bride’s table where a gorgeous redhead in ice-blue satin served wedding cake to a parade of guests. “Only, I should have been gone by now. The cake fairy does her job and gets out of the way. Usually.”

One of Cooper’s dark, slashing eyebrows hiked. “Cake fairy?”

She nodded, gaining strength and clarity by the moment. No matter how long she dealt with diabetes, she was always amazed at how quickly she could crash and recover. “I design cakes for a local wedding planner, the Wedding Belles.”

She was good at it, too. She could turn any idea into a fabulous cake. Justin had laughed when she’d taken up cake design but she thanked God every day she had. Otherwise, she and the twins would be sponging off relatives. She shivered at the thought. Even now finances were incredibly tight.

“Feeling better?” Cooper pushed to his feet and towered over her.

“I am. Thanks.” Emitting a shaky breath, she ran a hand across her forehead. “I know better than to scrimp on lunch. But sometimes I can slide by.”

“Not today. You were as white as the bride’s dress.” He sat down in the chair next to her as though he was in no hurry to join the rest of the wedding guests. “Does Justin know about these episodes?”

Misery swept through her. He didn’t know. Cooper Sullivan had been Justin’s friend and closest competitor all through college and medical school but they’d gone their separate ways after graduation. Actually, after Justin and Natalie married. More than ten years had passed since she’d last seen the darkly handsome doctor. A lot can happen in ten years.

“Oh, Cooper.” Natalie reached for his hand to soften the coming blow. “Justin died.”

As a medical doctor, he must have said or heard those words dozens of times, but he jerked back, shocked. “Died? How? When? Natalie, no.”

Even after all this time, the grief could sometimes slam into her like a shark attack, fierce, sharp, tearing. When it did, she replaced the pain with anger. If he’d had any sense, if he’d loved her and the twins enough, Justin would still be here.

“Two years ago. A motorcycle accident.”

No use going into the horrifying details. When a motorcycle takes on an eighteen-wheeler, the motorcycle loses every time.

“God,” he said and leaned back against the wall to run both hands through the sides of stylishly groomed black hair. “Nat, I am so sorry. Are you okay? You should have called me.”

She didn’t bring up the fact that he had been the one to fade out of their lives when he’d moved to California to accept a residency training program at USC. She also didn’t mention the competition between him and Justin, a competition that had extended from the classroom to the sporting arena and finally to a bid for her affections. When she’d chosen Justin, their friendship had died out. Natalie was smart enough to realize it had never been her whom Cooper had wanted. His real desire had been the thrill of victory.

“The girls and I are fine, Cooper. It’s been hard, losing Justin, making a life without him, but we’re managing.” In truth, she was barely staying afloat.

“The girls?” Still shocked, his handsome face registered bewilderment.

He had no way of knowing Justin had left her with the most amazing daughters. Without them to care for, she might have given in to the awful grief and simply disappeared.

“Twins. Rose and Lily. They’re eight now.”

“Twins. Amazing.” He shook his head, soft smile pensive. “Old Justin has two little girls. I’d like to meet them.”

Natalie carefully sidestepped the subtle hint. “What about you? What are you doing back in Boston after all this time?”

White teeth flashed against a Southern California tan. “All that sunshine and warm weather grew tiresome. I yearned for a good old Massachusetts nor’easter. Snow, wind, frigid air.”

“No, seriously.” She turned in her seat, picked a grape from the plate, and popped it into her mouth. “Are you only here for the wedding? Visiting friends? Or maybe someone special?”

Had that sounded too…interested? She hoped not. She didn’t care one whit if Dr. Cooper Sullivan had twenty women on the string. Which he probably did. For Cooper, women, like everything else, were a prize to be won, a competition. Once he claimed the trophy, he quickly grew bored and moved on. Medicine and success were the only lovers that could hold him for long.

“Not visiting, though my family lives in the area.” He reached for a strawberry. “I’m back to stay.”

Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten that Cooper was one of the Sullivans, one of Massachusetts’s prominent political families? “They must be thrilled to have you closer to home. Where will you be practicing?”

At the mention of his family, something curious flickered in Cooper’s brown eyes but he said, “I’ve joined a surgical team at Children’s. Top-notch group with a great rep.”

Of course they were. Children’s was a fabulous facility. “Congratulations.”

No doubt he was the top recruit and they’d paid him a fat bonus to join their team. Cooper had been the number-one student in the entire medical school, something that had driven Justin crazy. Cooper was always one or two points ahead of his strongest competitor, her late husband. She knew without asking that he’d enjoyed the same success in his residency program and subsequent practice.

Dr. Cooper Sullivan was the single most brilliant human being she’d ever met. In fact, there was nothing he couldn’t succeed at if he tried. It was as if he had golden boy encoded on his DNA. The only problem with Cooper was his attitude. He expected to win. He expected to be the top and he didn’t back off until he was. The same attitude extended to his love life. She wondered if he’d ever dated a woman because he liked her rather than viewing her as trophy for his shelf. She’d known Justin loved her for herself. Cooper had seen her as a challenge, a Mount Everest to conquer. Cooper Sullivan was not her kind of man. That is, if she was looking for a man, which she most assuredly was not.

By now the wedding guests crowded the dance floor, moving to the energy of a fast track. Belle Mackenzie, the matronly blond owner of the Wedding Belles and Natalie’s boss, floated amongst them, occasionally speaking into her headset as she made sure every detail of the wedding went off without a hitch. Belle’s warm, Southern style and true love of people was what made the Wedding Belles a success. Not a woman to miss anything, she was certain to have noticed that her cake designer was paying an inordinate amount of attention to a darkly handsome guest.

“I really should be going now.” Natalie stood, glad her knees were no longer made of wet noodles.

He caught her hand. “Dance with me first.”

She pulled back. “I’m not a guest.”

He grinned. “I am.”

Before she could protest further, he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor. For a nanosecond, annoyance ruffled her feathers. The arrogant man never considered that she might not want to dance with him. To his way of thinking, every woman longed to be in the arms of Dr. Cooper Sullivan.

But Natalie swallowed her protest and went along with the dance. After all, he was Justin’s long ago friend and, as much as she hated needing help, he’d been there for her today. His quick reaction had probably kept her from fainting and disrupting a very nice wedding. Even though Boston was his home city, he’d been gone a long time. Perhaps, he’d been relieved to find a familiar face among the new acquaintances. The least she could do was dance with the man.

She loved to dance, had been on the dance squad in high school, and had taken jazz and tap for years. Justin had promised to learn ballroom dance with her as soon as his residency was completed. She was still furious with him for having procrastinated about the lessons, just as he’d procrastinated about most things, including taking out life insurance.

One thing Justin hadn’t put off was spending. If he or she had wanted something, no matter how expensive, he’d charged it. According to Justin, all residents lived on credit, knowing they would soon be making tons of money. She’d believed him. As a result, she was still paying off the mountain of debt, one month at a time.

“This is a nice surprise,” Cooper muttered as he gazed down at her with his “I’m hot” smile.

She supposed he was. Okay, he really, really was. Dark, dark hair, black spiky lashes that drew attention to brilliant eyes and a proud, sculpted face would make any movie star jealous. He looked like a model or something.

He danced pretty well, too, if she’d admit it, moving with a fluid, confident rhythm as he guided her effortlessly around the floor.

On the first whirl, he held her at arm’s length and made small talk. On the second whirl, he pulled her against his chest, trapping her hand in his. Natalie couldn’t help breathing in the clean, crisp, woodsy essence of him. The wool of his jacket rubbed tantalizingly against her cheek. She hadn’t been in a man’s arms in a very long time, and she’d always loved the wonderful differences between the male and female physiques. Hard to soft. Strong to delicate. Big to petite. Later she’d remind herself of all the reasons why she was permanently off the male species.

When the music ended she tried to step back. Cooper held on. She raised her eyes to his, saw a challenge there.

“No need to rush off. It’s been a long time. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Natalie glanced around the crowded dance floor where she spotted Belle chatting up the mother of the groom. Her boss lifted a wineglass in her direction along with a finely penciled eyebrow. Lovely. Now Belle would be asking questions about the handsome hunk with whom Natalie had been dancing. Belle was a die-hard romantic, a natural inclination given her business of coordinating the most beautiful weddings in New England.

She was also one of the greatest Southern ladies of all time. Belle Mackenzie had given Natalie this job, encouraged her to stand strong when the storms of life had nearly swept her under, and had been a motherly shoulder to cry on in times of distress. Natalie adored Belle, so much so that she wanted to live the rest of her life as Belle did, as an independent woman in charge of her own life. No man need apply. There was no opening for romance at the Thompson house.

“I’m supposed to be working,” she said.

Still, Cooper made no move to release her hand. She gave a gentle tug. He held fast, an enigmatic smile tilting those aristocratic lips.

“Nothing for you to do.” He nodded toward the bride’s table before smoothly sweeping Natalie back into his arms.

Blame it on the insulin reaction, blame it on the romantic swirl of bridal lace and the clink of champagne glasses, but Natalie could no more resist dancing with Cooper than she could conduct the Boston Pops.

After all, what he’d said was true enough. Her glorious creation was being whittled to nothing as guests came back for seconds, murmuring over its deliciousness. There wasn’t anything for Natalie to do until the reception ended except enjoy the compliments.

Cooper’s strong fingers clasped her much smaller hand against his chest. She felt the rhythmic beat of his heart, noticed the hard contours of his athletic torso. Though she tried not to think of Cooper as an attractive man, with the number of interested female glances coming his way as a constant reminder, she was failing miserably. She resented the feelings. Resented the reminders that she was a passionate woman alone. Especially she didn’t like the idea of betraying Justin’s memory with his once close competitor.

“Tell me about your new job,” she said, frantic not to notice Cooper’s muscular thighs brushing hers or the tingle of awareness that rushed from her own thighs upward.

He gave her a lazy smile. “I’m boring. Tell me about you.”

Boring? She doubted there was anything boring in Cooper’s life.

She, on the other hand, was quite ordinary and content to be so. A Friday-night poker game with the other Wedding Belles, a little gossip, Sunday afternoons in the park with her kids.

“Working. Taking care of my girls. Not much else.”

“And the cakes?”

“Oh, yes. Lots and lots of cakes.”

“Sweet,” he said and they both laughed.

“How, or perhaps I should ask why, did a diabetic choose to be a cake decorator?”

“Fairy,” she corrected.

“Ah, yes. Cake fairy.” His eyes twinkled. “It suits you.”

“My girls think I should wear a Tinkerbell costume with wings and a tutu.”

A wicked gleam. “Now that I’d like to see.”

“I’ve actually thought about it. For kids’ birthday parties, I mean. They would love it.”

He laughed down at her and something low in her belly reacted. She hadn’t felt this way in more than two years. Feminine, attractive, womanly.

The shock of it caused her to misstep.

“Sorry,” she said as a blush warmed her neck and cheeks. Hopefully, Cooper would blame the stumble for her sudden fluster.

“No problem. You need to rest anyway after that insulin reaction. I shouldn’t have kept you out here so long.”

As if reluctant to break contact, he held on to her hand and led her toward a white linen-clad table. Still stunned at her unexpected reaction to his very male nearness, Natalie followed without resistance.

“Something to drink?” he asked.

As she sank into a chair, she nodded. “Water would be great. I’m hot.”

Cooper inclined his head with a wicked smile. “I’d have to agree.”

Her flushed skin grew redder. How long had it been since she’d even thought of herself as an attractive woman? As a hot babe?

“Go away, Cooper,” she teased, trying to laugh off her sudden discomfiture.

He laughed, too, but did as she said, returning in a very short amount of time with their drinks. “I wanted to try your cake but it’s all gone.”

“Even the groom’s cake?”

“Every crumb. You must be a great cake fairy.”

Before she could think of a witty comeback, Cooper’s cell phone chirped.

“Excuse me,” he said as he reached inside his jacket and drew out the instrument. “Dr. Sullivan.”

An amazing transformation happened before her eyes. She’d seen it with Justin. Cooper’s face, animated, teasing and maybe a tad flirty a moment ago became a study in serious listening. The brilliant mind behind the playboy smile kicked into high gear.

“Call Dr. Francis. Ask him to assist. I’ll meet him there in twenty minutes.”

He snapped the phone shut and slid it inside his jacket.

“A patient?” Natalie asked.

He nodded and pushed back from the table.

“Sorry to break up the party. It’s been great seeing you again, Natalie.”

Natalie experienced a frisson of disappointment. “It was good to see you too, Cooper. I hope all goes well with your patient.”

He tilted his head, whipped around to leave but turned back just as quickly to hand her a business card. “Call me. We’ll get together.”

With that he was gone, straight back and wide shoulders slicing through the crowd with a confident air until she lost sight of him.

She gazed down at the card bearing his address and phone number in a bold confident font.

Call him? Call a man who’d rattled her self-imposed moratorium on male-female relationships?

Not likely.

CHAPTER TWO

“GOOD case, Dr. Sullivan.”

Seated on a narrow chair in the doctors’ lounge, Cooper lifted one foot to remove the protective shoe coverings. The scent of coffee, too long on the burner, filled his nostrils. His stomach growled but the stale doughnuts on the sideboard held no charm.

He peeled off the blue shoe cover and tossed it into the trash before nodding to the dark-haired female. “Yes, it was. Thanks for your help.”

“A pleasure.” Dr. Genevieve Pennington was a member of Children’s Cardiac Surgical and as such one of his associates. She was also a skilled surgeon as cool under pressure as he. Now she tarried in the doorway of the physicians’ lounge, fiddling with the clasp on a green alligator handbag.

“Some of us are headed to the country club for a drink. Care to join us?”

Cooper glanced up at the attractive doctor, wondering if the invitation was business, pleasure or both. Never mind. He was tired and feeling strangely let down though he couldn’t say why. He loved his work and the surgery had gone better than expected. Normally he enjoyed an active social life, as well, and Dr. Pennington was single, attractive and smart. In the weeks since he’d joined the practice, she’d dropped other subtle hints that he couldn’t miss. They had plenty in common, but he wasn’t sure a fling with a colleague would benefit either of them in the long run.

He shook his head. “Rain check?”

Disappointment flickered briefly on the doctor’s face. “Sure.” She backed out of the lounge, one hand on the door handle. “See you tomorrow.”

“Right—6:00 a.m. atrial-septal defect. I’ll pop up and say hello to the patient and his mother before I head home.”

Home. A town house in East Cambridge. Beautiful, well appointed, empty.

Cooper blew out a tired and somewhat depressed sigh. He didn’t really want to go home. Maybe he’d drive out to see his parents. Or maybe not. He wasn’t up to facing Dad’s dissatisfaction today. Oh, the old man never came right out and said anything, but he’d made his feelings clear. Cooper hadn’t followed his father’s lead. He hadn’t gone to Harvard. He’d chosen medicine instead of politics. Everyone knew the blue-blooded Sullivans were shoo-ins for public office, and with Cooper’s charisma he could have risen to the top. Or so his family thought.

He’d never managed to convince his father that he wasn’t cut out to hobnob with people he disliked, and he wasn’t much on kissing babies. He just wanted to save their lives.

Cooper rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, tense from the five-hour surgery, tenser still from the ongoing knowledge that he’d let his parents down. He’d thought coming back to Boston might help ease the constant feeling of discontent, the need to reach higher and higher, but if anything, being near his family had made it worse.

Quiet settled over the usually busy lounge.

For years he’d strived to be here in this place with these physicians doing this work. All afternoon he’d battled death and won, giving a future to a four-year-old with malformed heart valves. In another place or time the boy would never have lived to adolescence. Now he’d be an old man with grandchildren on his knees.

This was what Cooper wanted out of life. This kind of success. Yet it felt empty.

In a few years, if he worked hard and remained focused, he would be chief of cardiac surgery. Perhaps then he’d experience the sense of satisfaction that always remained just out of reach.

Rolling his head to loosen the kinks, he stretched upward and went to his locker. The day’s personal mail, picked up earlier from the office was stuffed inside, unopened. Flipping through the stack, two caught his eye. His pulse accelerated. Could it be?

He took the innocuous-looking envelopes to a chair and sat down again to slide a finger beneath the flap and remove the letter. As he read, the depression of moments before sailed away. He scanned faster, coming to the final conclusion. They wanted him.

“All right!” he exclaimed.

Growing more energized with every minute, he ripped open the other envelope. After another quick scan, he pumped a fist in victory. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

He was tempted to jump up and do a happy dance around the empty lounge. This little trick could put him on the map as one of the premier neonatal surgeons on the planet.

Several months ago—he’d forgotten how many—he’d submitted his research and findings on a technique he’d perfected that helped protect a newborn’s still developing brain from damage during a cardio-pulmonary bypass. The science was good. The technique precise. The results stunning.

Now, he held not one, but two letters asking to publish his findings. Both the American Journal of Medicine and the British Lancet, two of the most prestigious medical journals in the world, wanted the article. The news would put his name on the lips of every pediatric surgeon and elevate his status among the powers that be here in Boston. He wanted to be one of the youngest chiefs ever, and the goal grew closer with every breath.

This wasn’t his first publication, but it was the most important. The drive to perfect surgical techniques in newborns was like a living thing inside him. The fate of tiny little human beings with all their lives spread out before them rested in his hands and inside his brain.

The more he studied, the more he tweaked medications and methods, the more lives he saved. These acceptances were more motivation to burn the midnight oil. Who needed rest when so much was at stake?

Needing someone to share his excitement, he whipped out his cell phone and punched in his father’s number. The congressman would be proud of this.

“Cooper?” Randall Sullivan’s voice, strong and confident boomed into his earpiece. “Is that you?”

“Yes, sir. How are you and mother doing?” Get the niceties out of the way first.

“Hale and hearty. Busy as the devil himself.”

“I won’t keep you long, but I did have something to tell you.” A zing of adrenaline had him tapping his foot.

“Hold on a minute, son. I’ve got another call. Governor Bryson’s office.” A click and then silence. Cooper stared down at the letter, rereading the good news while he waited.

Another click and then his father’s voice again, robust and oratorical even to family. “Still there?”

“I’m here, Dad.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, the acceptance letter dangling in front of his eyes.

“Good. I was about to call you with the news. Cameron’s decided to make a run for state office. The party thinks he has a good chance. Youth, looks, charisma.”

“With the Sullivan machine behind him?”

Congressman Sullivan’s laugh boomed. “Absolutely.”

Cooper’s younger brother had followed the rules of the Sullivan household and gone into law with an eye to politics. Cameron was now viewed as the good son. Not that Cooper was complaining. Cameron’s natural propensity for their father’s profession took some of the pressure off Cooper. Some, but not all.

Congressman Randall Sullivan dreamed of creating a political dynasty to rival the Kennedy clan. The trouble was his elder son had not cooperated, and this had caused more than a little tension within the family.

“Cam’s still young, Dad. He needs to be certain this is what he wants.”

“Jack Kennedy was in the Oval Office at forty-three. A man has to make his move when the climate is right. That’s politics. If you had stayed the course, you’d be in the Senate by now.”

The censure was there, subtle, but sharp like a sticker in a sock.

“Dad,” he said simply, not wanting to revisit this old wound.

“This is what you were born for, Cooper, what your mother and I reared you to do with your life. The Sullivans are public servants. It’s our responsibility to care for those less fortunate. There’s still time for you to throw your hat in the ring. I know the party would be interested. Two Sullivan brothers running for office this election year would make great press and garner big voter turnout.”

Cooper bit back his usual argument. Putting broken hearts back together was public service. Sure he was paid well, but so was the congressman.

“I’m a doctor.” He glanced at the letter, wanting to say that he wasn’t just a doctor, he was a good doctor, a surgeon moving up through the ranks at a rapid pace. But the senator was only interested in one game, and it wasn’t medicine.

His fingers tightened on the acceptance letter, euphoria seeping out like a leaking oxygen tank.

“A good strategist can use the doctor angle,” his father was saying. “The surgeon who comes to politics to heal society’s wounds. Something like that. What do you say?”

“I don’t think so, Dad. I’m—”

“Don’t say no yet. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking. Think about it.”

Trying to talk to his father was like spitting into the wind. He was always the one who was sorry.

“Okay, son? You’ll do that for the old man, won’t you? Think about it?”

Cooper swallowed against the tightness in his throat. This was why his father was one of the most influential men in the state. He knew how to get what he wanted. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

Truly, he was sorry. Sorry to be a disappointment. Sorry he couldn’t be what his father needed and wanted him to be.

The silence that extended from his father’s line to his buzzed for several painful seconds before the congressman cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was tight with disapproval.

“We’ve got our first fund-raiser for your brother scheduled on the thirtieth. I hope you can find it in your busy schedule to be there.”

Cooper didn’t miss the subtle jab. “I’ll be there. Tell Cam to let me know if I can help in any other way.” Short of running with him.

“Will do. Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Cooper glanced once more at the letter, crumpled in one corner by his ever-tightening fingers. The joy he’d wanted to share with someone close was so far gone he couldn’t even remember what it had felt like. “Nothing important.”

“All right then. You’ll have to excuse me. I have a meeting to attend. Senator Steiner thinks he can sway my vote on that worthless bridge project of his.” He chuckled roughly. “Maybe I’ll let him if he makes all the right noises about helping Cameron. Come for dinner on Sunday. Make your mother happy.”

It was more of a command than an invitation. “I’ll be there. Thank you, sir.”

As deflated as a child’s balloon, he flipped his cell phone closed and stared at the criss-cross pattern in the tile floor. He shouldn’t let his father get to him, but he always did.

It would be different when he made chief. The congressman would see far more advantage in a position of prominence than just being a member of the team. No matter how prestigious the group, according to his father, Sullivans weren’t team members. They were the head man. Anything less was not acceptable.

In a fit of frustration, Cooper wadded the letter into a ball, aimed it toward the trash can and, with a flip of his wrist, arched the paper like a miniature basketball. The white vellum hit its mark. Cooper’s mouth turned up in a self-deprecating grin.

“Two points,” he murmured.

The action reminded him of his old buddy and one-on-one opponent, Justin Thompson. They must have shot a million paper wads during medical school, and they’d bet on every single one. Right now, he’d give a year of his life to see his former friend. Even though Justin would be green with jealousy over the journal acceptances, he would also be happy for Cooper’s success. That was the fuel that drove their friendship—fierce competition coupled with a deep respect and affection. If he couldn’t win, he wanted Justin to take first place. He knew Justin had felt the same.

His foot dropped to the floor with a thud. He stared at the wall. Justin was dead. Unbelievable.

The shock still stung like an injection of xylocaine. One of the brightest guys he’d ever encountered, gone. A good man, a great competitor, a true friend.

A motorcycle wreck. He shuddered at the thought. But that was Justin. A man who pushed the envelope, ready to take chances, to try new and exciting things. It was what had made their friendship so exhilarating at times. He’d never known what Justin would do next.

Regret pulled at him. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. His fault, he was sure. But he should have kept in touch, should have called, should at least have known a friend had died before his time. A physician of all people knew how frail life could be.

Two young doctors entered the lounge, both yawning with the exhaustion common to overworked residents but bantering with the black humor that kept them awake and alert for thirty-plus hours.

He and Justin had done that, although their jokes had always been competitive, each trying to outdo the other.

Funny how he hadn’t thought about that in a long time, but now the camaraderie came back with the clarity of HDTV.

An ache pulled at his gut. He missed that kind of friendship.

As he skimmed into his street clothes, his mind strayed to the sprite of a woman Justin had left behind. Encountering Natalie at Dr. Craggin’s wedding had been a surprise. A pleasant one. When he’d seen her across the room, he’d done a double take. Ten years ago, she’d been a cute girl, but now she was a woman, all grown-up and looking good. Real good. He felt a little guilty about thinking of her in those terms, but there it was.

When they’d danced and her taut little body had brushed against his, he’d suffered a flash of desire so hot, he’d thought the building was on fire. After finding out about Justin’s death, he’d also had an overwhelming need to take care of her, as if by doing so he could make up for the loss he hadn’t known about.

The knowledge made him itchy, uncomfortable. He didn’t know what was wrong with him to have such crazy thoughts.

Even after he’d finished the emergency surgery that night, she’d been on his mind. Her soft mouth around his fingers as he’d fed her fruit had just about done him in. Later, when his mind had kept replaying the scene without his permission, the moment had taken flight into erotic fantasy. Honey dew. Even the melon was sexy. He should be ashamed of himself.

Wasn’t it wrong to think of his friends’ wife this way, even when that friend was dead? Especially when that friend was dead? Justin wasn’t here to protect what was his.

There was that word again—protect.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Justin would expect him to look after his woman. Like a friend or a brother, not as a lusting fool who only had one thing in mind.

Ten years ago Natalie’s big blue eyes had been guileless and even a little gullible. Now they were wary and wise. Though common sense said the death of a spouse would change anyone, the difference bothered him. Just as he’d been bothered when Justin had won her affections. His hands stilled on his silk tie as the notion caught him up short. That was years ago. A college crush. Both men vying for the blond pom-pom girl with the flashing dimples and sexy legs. Justin had won. Subject closed.

To him she’d been a passing fancy, but Justin had been the family type. He had wanted it all—career, family, adventure, success—and that had been enough reason for Cooper to back off. Justin had thought he could juggle everything. Cooper knew better. Single-minded focus was the only way to reach a lofty goal. Justin’s death only proved how right he’d been. A man couldn’t have it all, at least not for long.

He slipped into a pair of Italian loafers.

Natalie still had those flashing dimples.

She had two little girls, too. Justin’s girls. Far better to focus on them. Were they doing all right? Did they need anything? It wouldn’t hurt to make certain Justin had left them well provided for.

He’d asked Natalie to call. Wonder why she hadn’t?

Once again he pulled his cell phone from his jacket, but then sat down, staring at it. He didn’t know her number.

Then he smiled. He wasn’t Congressman Randall Sullivan’s son for nothing.

* * *

“Lily, get down from there. You’re going to fall.”

At least Natalie thought it was Lily walking tight rope on the back of the couch. With identical twins, even she couldn’t always tell them apart from a distance.

Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she blended confectioner’s sugar and real butter with almond extract using a mixer that had seen better days. “Listen, Regina, I’ve got to go. The timer is going off and Lily has suddenly decided to become a high rope circus act.”

“Call me later. I’m dying to hear more about that dreamy doctor.”

“Regina,” Natalie warned, but a little thrill jitter-bugged up and down her nerve endings. “Cooper is just a former friend who recognized the insulin reaction. End of story. I don’t know why I told you in the first place.”

Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned the crazy dreams she’d had since then, confusing dreams of being held and loved and cherished by a man with very dark eyes and long, slender hands.

Regina’s warm chuckle was knowing. “Just promise to tell me more later. You tell me something, and I’ll tell you something. A tit for tat, as it were.”

“Okay, whatever.” Natalie laughed and rang off, clapped the phone onto the counter and whirled toward the beeping oven, grabbing a potholder as she moved. The duplex was so small the kitchen, living and dining room were blended together in one big area. Most of the space was taken up with her tables and equipment. Fortunately, she could work and still keep a close eye on her active girls.

As she slid the sheet cake from the oven, she heard her daughter give a tiny sigh of exasperation and then heard the thud of feet as the child hopped onto the wood floor. It was Lily, all right. Rose wouldn’t have given in so easily.

Natalie slid the cake onto a table and turned to look at the bouncy eight-year-old. Love as big and warm as a hot air balloon filled her chest.

“Rose won’t play with me,” Lily said, bottom lip extended, elfin face droopy.

“Yes, she will, punkie. Go ask her.”

Big gray eyes, reminiscent of Justin’s, gazed sadly at Natalie. “She won’t. She says Puppy doesn’t like me today so I can’t come in the room.”

“Rose!” Natalie yelled, trying to be louder than the television cartoons. Rose had an imaginary dog that didn’t like much of anyone except Rose. Whenever she was in a mood, she claimed Puppy would bite anyone who came into her bedroom—a room that also belonged to her sister.

Of her twins, Lily was the quieter, the more docile child, though sometimes when the two girls were together they could both be a handful.

The other twin, wearing a backward baseball cap and lime-green frog slippers appeared in the hallway. “Are we going to get a Christmas tree? Ashley already has one with ten presents under it.”

Natalie ignored the obvious distraction technique. Rose was an expert at distraction. Natalie crossed the room to lower the volume on the TV set. “Play nicely with your sister or Santa might not bring you anything at all this year. No need for a tree in that case.”

Rose perched a hand on one hip. “Mom! There is no Santa Claus.”

Lily piped up at that. “Yes, there is. I saw him. Remember?”

Rose shot her sister a look. She might only be two minutes older, but sometimes she behaved as though Lily was two. “That was Daddy. Santa doesn’t come anymore since Daddy died.”

Natalie’s heart twisted right in half. Justin had dressed up in a Santa suit every year after the twins were born. He got such a kick out of their squealing reactions and out of making out with Mrs. Claus after the girls were fast asleep. But she couldn’t for the life of her imagine how Rose could remember all that.

She went down on her knees in front of her daughter and pulled her close with one hand as she reached for Lily with the other. “Santa came last year. You just didn’t see him.”

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Mom,” Rose said, far too grown-up for Natalie’s comfort. “The presents are from you and Grandma in Arizona. I can tell. Santa always brought big stuff.”

Oh, yes, Justin bought out the local toystore every year. “Well, big or not, lady, we always have Christmas.”

“It’s not about the stuff, anyway, is it, Mommy?” Lily, the peacemaker spoke up.

“No, sweetie, Christmas is not about the stuff.” Though Justin had spoiled both her and the girls, Natalie had tried hard to teach them the real meaning of Christmas. Money may be tight now, but she wanted them to know how blessed they were. “Which reminds me. The three of us need to decide our Christmas project for this year. Shall we save pennies for the Salvation Army bell ringers? Pick an angel from the angel tree? Bake cakes for the homeless shelter? Your choice.”

Rose and Lily screwed their identical faces into expressions of deep thought.

Finally, Lily asked, “If we bake cakes, will you let us help?”

The question took Natalie aback. Let them help? Two monkeys in her kitchen? “I don’t know, girls. Let me give it some thought.”

“We’ll be real careful. We won’t stick our fingers in the icing or anything.”

“Or lick the spoon,” Lily put in.

“Or nothing gross like that. We’re not little kids anymore.”

Natalie suppressed a smile. She had to love their independent spirits. She of all people should understand what it felt like to be told she couldn’t do something. Justin had never wanted her to work, never thought she could handle the pressure of doing anything because of her diabetes. In his macho, overprotective way, he’d stolen her independence. She’d felt loved instead of insulted, but after his death, she’d only felt helpless.

“You know, I think you girls are right.”

The twins exchanged wide-eyed glances. “We are?”

“Uh-huh. But you will have to promise not to touch anything that I’m working on for the business. Deal?”

They both nodded solemnly, saying in unison. “Deal.”

“High-fives all around?”

The three slapped high-fives before Natalie grabbed them into a bear hug, tumbling onto the floor for a shower of kisses. Lord, how she loved her babies.

The timer went off again and she untangled herself from the pile of arms and legs to answer the call. She had tester cakes to bake for several brides with appointments at Belle’s on Monday and a cake to decorate for a baby shower tomorrow.

Suddenly friends again, the twins dashed off to make Christmas plans while she got busy. Multitasking was her middle name. Two cakes in the ancient oven, another in progress on the counter, clothes in a basket to be folded and lunch still to be prepared. Her day never ended, but she could deal with that. At least she was making her own way, not being a pretty parasite on a man’s arm.

As she shut the dishwasher with her foot while adding food coloring to six different bowls of frosting, Lily let out a yelp just as the doorbell chimed. Natalie jumped, splattering red down the front of her sweater onto the top of her foot.

The doorbell ding-donged again.

Rose streaked into sight. “I’ll get it, Mom.”

“Don’t open that door,” she warned.

Too late. A blast of artic air sucked the warm, toasty fragrance of caramel pecan cheesecake out into the frigid Saturday afternoon.

“Rose!” she yelled, frustrated that her daughter could never remember to peek before opening. A serial killer would have no problem gaining entrance into this house.

She came around the row of tables piled with her baking tools just as Rose remembered her instructions and tried to shut the door again. A gloved hand shot out, palm up, to brace the door open.

A jolt of concern raced up Natalie’s back. That was a man’s hand. Black leather gloves. No fingerprints.

Rushing now to protect her child, she stumbled over the basket of clothes in the living room and pitched forward, catching her hip on the coffee table.

“That’ll leave a mark,” a deep voice said.

She looked up to find Cooper Sullivan now inside her house, once again sliding an arm around her waist to lead her to a chair. She felt small and helpless and protected.

“This is starting to be a habit.”

Natalie didn’t like feeling helpless. Been there, done that.

“This is starting to be ridiculous,” she said, scowling at Rose. “Shut that door, Rose Isabella, and go to your room.”

The two names rolled off her tongue with ease. She’d said them far more times than Lily Alexandra.

Rose obeyed, her look of chagrin indicating she knew when to make an exit.

Natalie needed to rub her hip bone but not in front of Cooper. What was he doing here, anyway?

“Cooper,” she said, through gritted teeth. “What a surprise.”

A low rumble of laughter. “Maybe I should have called first.”

“Maybe.”

“I could leave.”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly.” It wasn’t his fault her heart was beating too fast and she’d made a fool of herself in his presence—again. “Take off your coat and have a seat. I’ll be recovered in a moment.”

She gave up and rubbed the smarting hip.

“You’re going to have a bruise,” he said as he slipped out of his coat and draped the long garment over the back of the couch. “Want me to have a look?”

Raising her eyes, she shot him a glare intended to melt iron. He laughed. “Maybe some ice instead?”

“I don’t have the patience to sit still that long.”

“Still the fidgety type?”

“My teachers called it hyperactive.”

He chuckled again and she relaxed the slightest bit. Seeing Cooper brought back a lot of memories and not all of them were bad. In fact, most of them weren’t bad. That was the biggest problem with having him show up at her house looking all handsome and manly. Well, that and the lovely dreams.

“How did you know where I live?”

He shrugged. “I called your boss.”

“Belle would never give out my personal information to a stranger.”

“She saw us dancing together at the Craggins’ wedding.”

“Oh.” Belle had better not be playing matchmaker. She knew Natalie didn’t date, hadn’t even considered dating since Justin’s death. Now that she was an independent woman, she planned to stay that way.

“Don’t worry. I told her we were old friends.” He tilted his head toward her. Melting snowflakes glistened 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.” She shrugged one shoulder. It was all a moot point now.

“That sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER THREE

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

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

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

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

When the child crossed her arms, chin tilted in a stubborn pose, Natalie crouched down in front of her. “Now, Rose.”

At the firm tone, Rose huffed once and then capitulated.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Sullivan. Puppy won’t bite you. He’s just in a bad mood today.”

“Is he always in a bad mood?” Cooper asked, trying to keep a straight face. The invisible puppy must be Rose’s alter ego.

“Most of the time.” She glanced down at the floor as if a real dog waited at her side. “It’s okay, Puppy. He’s not a criminal like you thought. He’s a doctor.”

Natalie made a strange noise in the back of her throat. When Cooper looked up in question, her eyes danced. “She’s been warned against opening the front door without checking first to make sure it’s someone I allow in the house.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Natalie gave a wry shrug. “With Rose, we can never be too sure.”

At that moment an identical child, minus the backward ball cap, entered the room.

Although she wasn’t growling and didn’t look nearly as menacing, Cooper asked, “Should I brace myself for another imaginary dog attack?”

“Puppy doesn’t like me, either,” the new addition said, tone dejected. “I wish we had a real dog that didn’t bite.”

“These,” Natalie said, drawing the children towards him, “are my girls, Rose and Lily. Girls, meet Dr. Cooper Sullivan.”

“Are you my mama’s new boyfriend?” Rose asked, glaring at him with a look that said her dog was getting riled again.

The question took him aback. Natalie’s boyfriend? Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. A man on the fast track in his profession didn’t do relationships. Occasional dates, a night here and there, but not the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. No time for that kind of commitment.

“Rose! Will you please behave yourself? Cooper is a friend. We went to the same college.”

Lily, conversely, came forward as polite as could be and extended her small hand. “Nice to meet you. Did you go to college with my daddy, too?”

“Yes, I did. And medical school, as well. Your dad was a friend of mine.” A friend that should be here giving him a hard time.

This news seemed to win some points with Rose because she stepped up and extended her hand, albeit a bit grudgingly. “I’m Rose. That’s Lily. We’re twins.”

“It must be fun to have a twin.”

The peanut-size child jerked one shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“Bet you try to fool people, too, don’t you?”

Rose slanted a warning glance at her sister. Cooper swallowed a laugh. This one probably coerced her twin into monkey business all the time.

Natalie had moved away from the children to stand closer to him. He tried not to notice the curve of her lips or remember the feel of her warm, soft mouth on his fingers. That fantasy had a way of popping up at the most inopportune times as it had done just before Rose had interrupted. Thank goodness for the little girl. He’d almost made a tactical error.

“They look alike but each has a distinctive personality,” Natalie was saying with those tantalizing lips.

He looked away, focusing on her girls. He’d come here to be a friend to Justin’s widow, not to get her into bed.

“I can see that,” he said. They were precocious, cute and as unique as they were alike.

“And to answer your question, yes, they occasionally switch roles and drive the rest of the world crazy, including me.”

“Life can’t be dull.”

“Not for a moment.” Natalie’s dimples flashed. He’d always thought she had the cutest dimples and long ago had even entertained thoughts of exploring them with his tongue.

Great. There he went again. He really was losing his mind.

Before the twins had burst onto the scene, he’d been tempted to kiss her. Now the insane urge was back. Natalie, with a pair of chopsticks holding her hair in a messy wad on top of her head and wearing a baker’s coat over an old sweater and leggings, shouldn’t have been the least bit attractive. But Cooper thought she was adorable. Add the bow mouth and peek-a-boo dimples and she was sexy in a way that defied explanation.

She licked those maddening lips, and his thoughts tumbled south. Way south. She was sexy, all right.

Whoa, Sullivan. Stop right there and get a grip. Remember why you’re here. Natalie is your buddy’s woman.

Widow, his evil imp whispered.

And he felt like a jerk. Even more so because he knew himself too well. He kissed. He made love. He did not—could not—become enmeshed in serious romantic relationships. His work required all of him. Someday he wanted a wife and family, but that day was in the future—far in the future, after he’d reached his goals. A man like him didn’t go messing with his dead friend’s wife.

Natalie blinked at him and he could swear she’d read his thoughts. Her dimples disappeared.

One of the twins, Lily, he thought, tugged on his hand and looked up with wide gray eyes.

“Are you a doctor like my daddy?”

Natalie answered for him. “He’s a different kind of doctor. He fixes hearts.”

“Oh. Can you fix my doll? Her leg fell off.”

“Hearts, Lily, not legs,” Rose said. “Don’t you know the difference?”

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