Page 22 of Landing Love

“Would anyone like another beer?” she asked. Again, everyone said yes. This was a disaster. His friends would only get bolder as they drank.

“Let me help you.” Mary followed Ann into the kitchen.

Moments later, Mary was back, handing around beers, once again leaving one for Ann, which made Bill worry. Having hardly ever drunk, she would have no tolerance. If she wasn’t careful, she might get tipsy.

Then Ann emerged from the kitchen, wiping everything from his mind. She was carrying the most beautiful cake he’d ever seen on a delicate white ceramic cake stand. The sides of the cake were perfectly smooth white with pale pink rosettes bordering the top and bottom. The top was tiled with paper-thin slices of strawberry arranged in a starburst pattern. Three large frosting flowers adorned the center.

Bill’s jaw dropped as she put it down right in front of him. He was never going to hear the end of this. Ever.

“I thought you should have the first slice in thanks for everything you’ve done for me.” The way she looked at him, eyes wide and soft, lush lips curled into a tenuous smile, made him want to reach out and kiss her right then and there, no matter how his friends might rib him for it. But the connection between them was too fragile, too precious, to risk on such bold action.

“It’s lemon cake with strawberry filling, just like at the Belmont party,” she said. “I had to try several recipes before I got it right, but I think you’ll like it.”

He stared at the cake and then at her. No one had ever made something so beautiful for him. The love and attention that went into it took his breath away. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen such a gorgeous cake in my life.”

He had doubted her feelings for him, but this was practically a public declaration of love. She must return at least some of his affection if she would spend the time and effort to create a masterpiece like this for him.

Pritchard, Thompson, and Mary were all looking on with wide eyes and open mouths, accidental voyeurs encroaching on an intimate moment between them.

“Wait ’til you taste it.” Ann’s eyes were full of warmth and something more.

She disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments and came back with dessert plates, forks, and a cake server for slicing.

Taking the cake server, she sliced the cake, carefully giving him an entire frosting flower. As she handed it to him, their fingers brushed, and his throat went dry. It was too much. He swallowed hard.

Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment before she returned to the business of slicing up the cake for everyone else.

Eating the cake felt nearly erotic. It was every bit as good as the Belmont cake, maybe even better. It was something she made for the pleasure of his lips and tongue, so smooth and creamy with a wicked little bite of lemon. Oh, dear God. His pants were getting tight over a slice of cake. Roof tiles, boxes, airplanes, his parents. There. Danger averted.

At least until she started eating.

He had to close his eyes and look away so as not to see the pleasure she took, nor to see her lips and tongue closing around the very same cake that had just touched his lips and tongue. It was a kiss at a distance, so intimate and innocent at the same time.

He turned to Mary to take his mind off it. She wore a smirk, and her eyebrows were practically to her hairline. Was it so obvious what he felt? Did they all see how much more than a piece of cake this was? The look on Mary’s face said yes. His ears were aflame as he turned away.

Thompson and Pritchard glanced at each other, then at him, holding back laughter. He jabbed Thompson in the side with his elbow. Thompson promptly cleared his throat and said with a straight face, “Excellent cake, Mrs. Prince. My compliments. I don’t think I’ve tasted better.”

“Not even Myrtle’s cake?” Pritchard teased.

“I couldn’t say because she’s never baked me a cake.” Thompson gave Pritchard a warning look, both of them burst out laughing. Still chuckling, Thompson opened his second beer and raised it. “To cake.” He took a swig. “I’m not sure beer goes with cake.”

“Nonsense. Beer goes with everything.” Pritchard raised his bottle. “To beer.”

Ann opened her second bottle and took a drink. “To laughing with friends,” she said with a slightly addled look in her eyes. She smiled widely and drank deep.

At that moment, a piercing wail went up from the other room. Bill and Ann jumped up at the same time. Bill beat her to the back room and picked up Junior who immediately settled in his arms. Ann halted beside him and put a hand on his arm.

He froze, not sure how to respond. He knew how he would like to respond, but that was out of the question.

Rising up on tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his cheek. The urge to fold her into his arms and kiss her on the lips was almost overwhelming, but somehow, he held back. “We shouldn’t linger. They’ll draw the wrong conclusions.”

She nodded and followed him out to the sitting room where everyone was giving them knowing looks. He still held Junior in his arms and realized too late how odd that must look to his friends. Reluctantly, he handed Junior over to Ann, and she settled into her chair, bouncing Junior on her knee.

“I love babies.” He smiled and shrugged.

“He really does.” Thank God for Mary.

Finishing his beer, Pritchard nudged Thompson. “We should get going.”