Promise me.
Damned if he’d let her struggle here on her own. Andrew wouldn’t want that.
Once she was stronger, ready for the rest, he would tell her how he had come to be in her shop that day. Andrew had warned Brody that his sister looked tough, a cover for a fragile heart, and cautioned him against telling Kate the truth. Brody suspected Andrew did on his deathbed what he’d done all his life—protected the sister he loved so much.
And now he’d given Brody that job. He’d deal with the rest when he had to, but for now, there was Kate and Kate needed help. He took a step closer. “Let me help you, at least with the delivery, and if we work well together, then maybe I can help you in here, too.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“It’ll only be for a few days, you said so yourself. And I’ll work for free. We can get that cupcake order done for my brother and I can be the hero of the wedding.” He grinned. “Just let me help. I’ll feel better if I do.”
She leaned closer, her green eyes capturing his. “Why?”
“Because you need the help. And I…I need something to occupy my nights.”
“Why?”
He could have thrown off some flippant answer. Something about being single and bored, or a workaholic who needed more to do, but instead, his gaze went to the far corner of the room, where a sister had pinned up an article about a brother who’d given his all, and the words came from deep in Brody’s heart. Not the whole truth, but something far closer than he’d said up until now. “I’m working through some stuff. And I just need something to…take my mind off it, until I find the best way to handle it.”
She worried her bottom lip, assessing him. “Okay, we’ll start with the delivery. It’s a simple one, just getting those cupcakes,” she pointed to a stack of boxes on the counter, “over to a local place for a party they’re having tonight.”
“Okay.” He hefted the boxes into his arms, careful to keep them level, then followed Kate out the back door and over to a van she had parked in the alley between her shop and the one next door. The words Nora’s Sweet Shop reflected off the white panels in a bright pink script. Kate slid open the side door, and he loaded the boxes on racks inside the van.
She climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for him to get in on the passenger’s side. “Before we go, I better warn you, that this place can be a little…rowdy.”
“Rowdy? In Newton?”
“Sort of. You’ll see.” She put the vehicle in gear, a bemused smile on her face. He liked her profile, the way the streetlights illuminated her delicate features.
They headed down the street, bumping over a few potholes. Kate drove with caution, keeping one eye on the road and one on the cargo in the back. He kept quiet, allowing her to concentrate on the still congested city roads. A few turns, and then they pulled into the parking lot of the Golden Ages Rest Home.
“A rowdy rest home?” He arched a brow.
She just grinned, then parked the van, got out and slid open the side door. “I hope you wore your dancing shoes.”
“My what? Why?”
But Kate didn’t explain. He grabbed several of the boxes and followed her into the building. Strains of perky jazz music filled the foyer. No Grandma’s basement decorations here. The rest home sported cream and cranberry colored furnishings offset by a light oak wood floor and a chandelier that cast sparkling light over the space. A petite gray haired lady rushed forward when Kate entered. “I’m so glad you’re here. The natives were getting restless.” She placed a hand on Kate’s arm. “Thank you so much for helping us out again. You are an angel.”
Kate hefted the boxes. “An angel with dessert to the rescue! I’m always more than happy to help you all out, Mrs. White.”
The older lady waved the last words off. “You know that calling me Mrs. White makes me feel as old as my grandmother. Call me Tabitha, Kate, and you’ll keep me young at heart.”
Kate laughed. “Of course, Tabitha. How could I forget that?”
“Maybe you’re getting a little old, too, my dear,” Tabitha said, with a grin. She beckoned them to follow. They headed down the hall and into a room decked out for a party.
A pulsing disco ball hung from the ceiling, casting the darkened room in a rainbow of lights. Couches had been pushed against the walls, but few people sat on them. Jazz music pulsed from the sound system, while couples and groups of seniors danced to the tunes, some on their own, some using walkers and canes as partners. On the far wall, sat a table laden with food and drinks, and a wide open space waiting for dessert.
A tall elderly man with a full head of thick white hair and twinkling blue eyes, came up to Kate as soon as she entered the room. “Miss Kate, are you here to give me that promised dance?”
“Of course, Mr. Roberts.” She rose to her toes and bussed a kiss onto his cheek. “Let me get dessert set up and I’ll be ready to tango.”
“Glad to hear it. Oh, and I see you brought a partner for Mrs. Williams.” The man nodded toward Brody. “I didn’t know you had another brother.”
“Oh, he’s not my brother.”
“A beau?” Mr. Roberts grinned and shot a wink at Brody. “That’s wonderful, Miss Kate. You deserve a man who will treat you right.” He eyed Brody. “You are going to treat her right, aren’t you?”
Brody sputtered for an answer, but Kate saved him by putting a hand between the men. “Oh, no, Brody’s not a beau. Just a…friend.”
Friend. The kiss of death between a man and a woman, Brody thought. But really, did he want anything more? Brody wanted to help Kate, not be her boyfriend.
Yet the thought of them having nothing more than a cordial relationship left him with a sense of disappointment. A war between what he wanted and what he should have brewed in his chest. He opted for the should have. Help her through this bump in her business, make sure she got back on track, that she was happy and secure again, then go back to his life. No more. No less.
“What, are you nuts, boy? This woman is a catch and a half. If I was thirty, okay,” Mr. Roberts winked, “fifty years younger, I’d marry her myself.”
“Mr. Roberts, you are an incorrigible flirt.”
“Keeps me young.” He grinned. “And keeps the ladies around here on their toes.”
“Speaking of people on their toes,” Kate said, “I better get dessert on the table before dinner is served.”
She and Brody headed across the room, and started loading the cupcakes onto the waiting trays. A flock of eager and hungry partygoers lingered to the side, waiting for them to finish. Several people greeted Kate by name, and raved about her cupcakes. When she and Brody were done, they stowed the empty boxes under the table, and stepped to the side.
“Tabitha wasn’t kidding.” Brody glanced around the room. “People are dying for those cupcakes. I think if we waited any longer, you’d have had a riot on your hands.”
Kate laughed. “It’s that way every month. I donate dessert for the Senior Shindig, and people are always already lined up to get one, sometimes before I even get here.”
“That’s because everyone here loves your desserts, and you,” Brody said.
She brushed the bangs off her forehead and watched the residents shimmy to a fifties be-bop tune. “This place has always had a tender spot in my heart. Bringing the dessert for their events has sort of become a family tradition. When Andrew and I were kids, my grandparents used to bake for them. My great grandparents, Nora’s pare
nts, lived here, and from the beginning, the shop donated treats. On the weekends, Andrew and I would help deliver the cupcakes. The residents got to know us and we got to know them. We’ve cried when people have passed away, celebrated when they hit milestones, and helped them weather storms whenever we could.”
“Weather storms?”
She leaned against the wall, while her gaze scanned the room. “This place was started by a husband and wife team who wanted to provide a low-cost but really nice option for retirees who needed a caring place to live. Because of that, it’s faced some financial challenges, so my brother and I followed in my grandparent’s footsteps, and over the years, we donated our time and talents to help them out. As a result, a lot of these residents are…well, friends. Sort of an extended family.”
All in keeping with the jovial, caring hero that Brody had met in Afghanistan. A young man who would put his life in front of another’s without thinking twice. Kate possessed those same admirable traits. Brody’s esteem for her rose several notches, and so, too, did his connection with her. He could see some of the same spirit that had driven him into medicine, shining in her eyes as she took in the room. Kate was what Brody’s grandmother would call a “good soul,” the kind of woman who put others ahead of herself. “So you’re not just the baker, but the dance partner as well?”
She laughed. “I like coming here. The residents remind me of what’s important and what I get to look forward to.”
“You’re looking forward to the days of walkers and canes and wheelchairs?”
“In a way, yes. I mean, look at them.” She waved toward the people around them. “These truly are their golden years. These are people who are happy and content with who they are. They’ve achieved their goals, realized their dreams, for the most part, and now they want to enjoy their lives. If a red devil cupcake can help in that a little bit, I’m more than happy to bake a few dozen.”
“But doesn’t that put you behind on your other work?”
“Some work,” Kate said, her voice soft while she watched the crowd of people move about the room, “pays so much more than money. That’s what Andrew always said, and it’s true.”
“I agree.” Brody watched the happy faces of the residents as they greeted Kate, complimented the cupcakes. “That’s how I feel about working in medicine. It’s not about the money—and the medical mission work is all volunteer, so there’s no money there at all, it’s about the return on my time. The satisfaction at the end of the day is—”
“Priceless.” She turned to him and smiled. “Then that’s something we have in common.”
He could feel the thread extending in the space between them, interlocking him more and more every minute with Kate Spencer. “It is indeed.”
They were bonding, he realized, doing the very thing he had told himself not to do. But a part of Brody couldn’t resist this intriguing woman who blushed at compliments and gave of her heart to so many around her.
Mr. Roberts stepped up to Kate and put out his arm. Just as she put her hand on the older man’s arm, the perky elderly woman who had greeted them at the door sidled up to Brody. “Care to dance, young man? I hope you know the foxtrot.”
“Be careful.” Kate laid a hand on Brody’s. “Tabitha can cut a rug better than Ginger Rogers.”
“Now don’t say that, Kate,” the other lady said. “You’ll scare off my dancing partner.”
“I’m not much of a dancer.” Brody offered up a sheepish grin. “That’s my brother Riley’s department.”
“You’re young and you have your original hips,” Tabitha said. “That’s good enough for me. Come on, honey, let’s show those young kids we can outdance them.” She took his hand and led him to the floor, followed by Kate and Mr. Roberts. The music shifted to a slow paced waltz, and Brody put out a hand and an arm to Tabitha. The older lady slipped into the space with a very young giggle, and they were off, stepping around the room with ease.
He tried to keep his attention on the chatty woman in his arms, but Brody’s gaze kept straying to Kate. She laughed at something Mr. Roberts said, her head thrown back, that wild mane of rich dark brown hair cascading down her shoulders, swinging across his back, begging to be touched. Her lithe body swung from step to step, a sure sign she’d danced dozens of times before. As she danced a circle with Mr. Roberts, the people in the room said hello, thanked her for the cupcakes, and each one received a kind word or a friendly smile in return.
Too often, Brody had seen business people who cared about dollars and cents, not about people. Kate had that unique combination of heart and grace, coupled with killer baking skills. He admired that about her. He admired a lot about her, in fact.
Mr. Roberts swung Kate over to the space beside Brody, then sent a wink Tabitha’s way. “Hey, Tabby, isn’t it partner change time?”
“Partner change time?” The other woman gave him a blank look, paused, then a slow, knowing nod. “Oh, yes, of course. Partner change time. Thanks for the dance, kiddo.” She stepped out of Brody’s arms and into Mr. Roberts’s, leaving Kate standing on the floor.
She laughed and watched the older couple spin away. “Not exactly subtle, are they?”
“About as subtle as a bull horn.” Until that moment, Brody hadn’t realized how much he had been waiting for an opportunity to dance with Kate. To feel her in his arms, instead of watching her in another’s. This woman had intrigued him, captivated him, and even as he told himself this was a bad idea on a hundred levels, he put out his arms. “Shall we, partner?”
“I think we shall.” She stepped into the circle created by his embrace, and they began to move together to the music. The big band sounds swirled in the air around them, as other couples whooshed back and forth in a flurry of colors and low conversations.
As they danced, the other people in the room disappeared, the lights narrowed their focus, and every ounce of Kate’s attention honed in on Brody. She could have been dancing on the moon and wouldn’t have noticed a thirty-foot crater underfoot. Her heart beat in rhythm with the steps, and her body tuned to his hand pressed to the small of her back, the warmth of his palm against hers, the way his dark woodsy cologne wrapped around them in a tempting cloud. She could see the slight five o’clock shadow on his chin, watch the movement of his lips with each breath, and she wondered how it would feel if he kissed her.
Working through some stuff.
That was what he had given as his reason for wanting to help her. Kate wanted to ask, to probe, to find out what had caused the shadows in his eyes. What he wasn’t telling her—and what had been in all those odd comments that he’d never explained. But Kate Simpson didn’t want anyone asking about the shadows in her own eyes, so she sure as heck wasn’t going to ask about his.
And that meant not letting one dance distract her, or wrap her in a spell. She’d stick to business only. Period.
“Thank you again for dinner and for helping me with the delivery tonight,” she said.
“I wasn’t a bad cupcake transporter?” he asked as he turned her to the right, exerting a slight bit of pressure to help her move. How she wanted to lean into that touch, but she didn’t.
She knew better than to try to step up and solve another man’s problems. To be the shoulder he cried on, the heart he leaned on, only to leave her alone in the end when he returned to his busy life. How many times had she seen her mother crying, alone? How many times had she heard their fights, watched the destruction of their marriage a little at a ti
me? She’d come close herself to repeating that mistake with her last boyfriend, and had no intentions of doing that again.
“Not bad at all,” she said.
“Thanks.” He chuckled. “It’s always nice to have a back up career, should there ever be a sudden need for cupcake transportation throughout the greater Massachusetts area.”
She laughed. The song had come to an end, and they broke apart, and made their way to where the parquet met carpet, carving out a corner of the room for themselves, apart from the others. Despite her reservations, and her determination to keep things platonic, she liked Brody. Liked spending time with him. He had a wit that could coax a laugh out of her on her worst day, a smile that made her forget her stress, and eyes that inspired all kind of other thoughts that had nothing to do with work.
It might not be so bad to have him around, particularly when the days got long and her thoughts drifted toward Andrew, and she found herself ready to cry. Her brother, she knew, wouldn’t want her to do that, but getting past the loss was far from easy.
Easier, though, when Brody was around, she’d found. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him in her kitchen for a time. “If you want to learn the baking business, I’d be a fool to turn down free help. Especially sort of experienced free help.”
Brody nodded toward Mr. Roberts and Tabitha, who were watching from the sidelines. Tabitha sent up a little wave. “I do come with the recommendations of Tabitha. Wait, that was just for my dancing skills. Is there a lot of call for dancing in your bakery?”
“Not so much, but I’m sure we can figure something out.” She put out her hand. “Just remember—in the cupcake operating room, I’m the one in charge.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, then took her hand and when they shook, the warm connection sent a tremor through Kate’s veins.
Return of the Last McKenna (Harlequin Romance) Page 6
