Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris. Fiona Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ He looked stunned. He’d obviously had something else in mind.

      ‘I said can you bake?’

      ‘I suppose so. My grandmother baked all the time. But it’s been years since I’ve tried anything like that. Anyhow, you’ve seen my cupboards. Old Mother Hubbard had nothing on me. I don’t have any ingredients.’

      ‘But I do. There—it’s settled. The loser has to make the winner a cake. Just what we need on a day like this.’

      ‘You’d trust me to make you a cake?’

      ‘I love cake. I’d trust anyone to make me a cake.’ She held out her hand. ‘Do we have a deal?’

      He hesitated for just a second, before his competitive edge took over. ‘I’m a chocolate cake kind of guy. You better get your apron out.’

      * * *

      The waft of baking filled the whole apartment. It had been years since the place had smelled like this. It only made him miss his grandmother more.

      Apple pie. That had been the thing she’d baked most frequently. And it was the smell he most associated with his grandmother. Freshly baked juicy apples bubbling under the surface of the golden pie, topped with a sprinkling of sugar. Bliss.

      Now the smell was a little different. The timer on the oven buzzed. He hadn’t even known that his oven had a timer, let alone how to use it. But Carrie had insisted it was essential to bake the perfect cake.

      Or cakes as it had turned out.

      The game marathon had resulted in a dead heat.

      And now his kitchen was filled with the smells of chocolate cake and carrot cake. He pulled the door open as a waft of heat flooded out from the oven. The chocolate cake that Carrie had baked for him looked spectacular. His carrot cake? Not so much. A little charred on top. But nothing that the mound of frosting she’d made him prepare couldn’t hide.

      He lifted both out and watched as she tipped them onto a wire rack to cool—yet another thing she’d brought down from her apartment upstairs. Along with the mixing bowls, spatulas, ingredients and cake tins. She probably had more of her possessions currently in his apartment than her own.

      Baking was definitely her thing. She seemed relaxed, she seemed happy and she liked it. Even Abraham seemed to be more chilled out. Two feeds, lots of wind and no crying fits. Finally things were starting to settle.

      ‘We need to let the cakes cool before we ice them. So let’s give them a minute.’ She pulled out some plates from the cupboard, then shook her head and went back to look for more.

      ‘What’s wrong with my plates’?

      ‘Nothing.’ Her voice was muffled as she crouched in one of his kitchen cupboards. ‘But cake-eating is an art form. You have to have better plates than those. Aha.’ She pulled herself back out of the cupboard with something in her hand. ‘These are much better.’

      She stood up and put the fine bone china plates on the countertop. White with tiny red flowers painted on them. Another remnant of his grandmother. She’d used them for eating cake, too—probably why they were now hidden in the depths of his cupboards.

      The lights flickered around them.

      ‘Uh-oh,’ murmured Carrie. ‘That’s the third time that’s happened now.’

      Dan walked over next to her. ‘This could be a problem.’

      She turned to face him. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I don’t have any candles.’

      She looked at him in mock horror and held up her hands. ‘You don’t? What kind of emergency guy are you? Aren’t you cops supposed to be prepared for anything?’

      He didn’t move, just kept his eyes fixed on her face. ‘Not everything.’ His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. There was no mistaking the alternative meaning.

      She looked up at him. He was only inches from her face, inches from her lips. The lights flickered again, so he moved a little closer, his hand resting on her hip.

      She didn’t move. Not an inch. Her tongue came out slowly and ran along her lips, as if, without even realising it, she was preparing them for kissing.

      She could feel the pull. She could feel the same draw that he felt. He wasn’t wrong about this—he could tell.

      It had been there all day and they had been dancing around the edges of it. But now it wasn’t hiding any more. It was right there in front of them.

      His fingers pressed into her hip, pulling her pelvis a little closer to his, giving her every opportunity to object—to resist.

      But she didn’t.

      He leaned forward. ‘Carrie McKenzie, I’m going to kiss you now.’ His voice was low, trying to entice her to edge forward to hear it.

      But she didn’t do that.

      She did something totally unexpected. She lifted her hands and wrapped them around his neck. ‘It’s about time,’ she whispered as she rose up on her toes to meet his lips.

      Honey. She tasted of honey. Was there honey in the chocolate cake she’d just baked? At least that was what it felt like. The kiss started out shy—tentative. He didn’t want her to feel forced. He didn’t want her to feel as if she couldn’t say no. He just prayed she wouldn’t.

      Her fingers wound up across his shorn hairline as the kiss deepened. As her tongue teased with his. Then she let out a little sigh that almost undid him completely.

      He should pull back. He should let her out of his arms to give her time to think about this. There was still so much about Carrie McKenzie he didn’t know.

      But right now he didn’t want to. Letting her go was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Not when she seemed to be matching him move for move.

      And in an instant everything was black.

      * * *

      They jumped apart, then instantly moved back together again, bashing noses.

      ‘Oops.’ Carrie started to giggle as she rubbed her nose. ‘I guess that will be the power cut, then.’

      ‘I guess it is. Do you have any candles?’

      ‘Yeah, I have some upstairs in my apartment. Not the emergency kind. More the bathroom kind.’

      ‘What’s a bathroom kind of candle?’

      ‘The scented kind. The kind you light around your bath.’

      He shook his head. ‘I guess I’ll take your word for it. We’ll need something.’

      ‘I’ll go up and get them.’

      He slipped his hand into hers. ‘Let me come with you.’

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ