Return of the Last McKenna (Harlequin Romance) (7 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

T
HE
logistics of
Brody’s plan
required more finesse than negotiating a peace treaty. A busy family practice
doctor couldn’t just up and walk out of the office to bake cupcakes. He’d told
Mrs. Maguire he needed a bit of breathing room. “Just to get back into the swing
of things,” he’d said. “It’s been a big change coming back from being
overseas.”

She’d put a hand on his shoulder, her brown eyes filled with
kindness. “I understand. You take care of you and I’ll take care of the
schedule.”

In a matter of hours, she’d managed to free half his days for
the coming week. Brody made a mental note to send Mrs. Maguire a big box of
chocolates and a gift certificate to her favorite restaurant. Maybe two gift
certificates.

The day brightened as the sun began its journey to the other
side of the sky. Odd how the same sun that warmed Boston’s streets created an
oven in Afghanistan. And how the same sun that shone over a quiet neighborhood
street could shine over a war zone peppered with the wounded and the dead.

The dead—like Andrew Spencer. Cut down before he’d lived a
fraction of his life.

Guilt washed over Brody, teemed in his chest. He’d done all he
could, but still, it never seemed he’d done enough. Had he missed something?
Forgotten something? Taken too few risks—

Or too many?

The what ifs had plagued Brody ever since Andrew’s last
stuttering breath. They’d been a heavy blanket on his shoulders as he’d boarded
a plane to return to his family, knowing another plane had brought Andrew home
to his family, stowed in a wooden casket in the cargo hold.

He could still see Andrew’s wide green eyes, trusting Brody,
hoping that Brody would pull off an eleventh hour miracle. Then trust had given
way to fear, as the reality hit home. All the while, Brody battled death,
tending to Andrew, then to the other wounded soldiers, assessing wounds based on
survivability, and making his priorities off that grim reality.

Those who would die no matter what were put to the end of the
list. While those who had a chance were helped first. Brody and the other doctor
with him had worked on the others, knowing Andrew’s chances…

Brody cursed as he drew up short outside the cupcake shop. Why
had he agreed to do this? And why would Andrew pick him, the doctor who had
tended him until his last breath, to watch over Kate? The task loomed like a
mountain, impossible.

Inside the building, Kate crossed into his line of vision. She
saw him outside and shot him a wave. Today, she had her hair up in a clip that
poufed the back in a riot of curls. The style accented her delicate features,
drew attention to her emerald eyes.

Maybe not impossible, just tough as hell. As he watched Kate,
he decided no matter what mountain faced him, it would be worth the climb.

Brody opened the door and stepped inside. Sweet scents of
vanilla, chocolate, berry, wrapped around him like a calorie laden blanket.
“Damn, it smells good in here.”

“Thanks.” Kate smiled. “If you ask me, it smells like
temptation on a stick. Working here makes staying on any kind of diet
impossible.”

His gaze traveled over her lithe frame. She had on a V-necked
black T-shirt emblazoned with the shop’s logo and a pair of body hugging jeans.
Tempting was exactly the word he’d use, too. “I’d say you’re doing just fine in
that department.”

Had he just flirted with her? What the hell was he
thinking?

A pale pink flush filled her cheeks, and the smile widened.
“Well, thank you again.” Her eyes lit with a tease. She wagged a finger at him.
“But don’t think you’re getting out of dishes just because you complimented
me.”

“Damn,” Brody said, then grinned. “And here I thought you’d go
easy on me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because of my charming good looks and great bedside manner, of
course.”

She laughed. “That might work with the nurses, but I’ll have
you know, I am a tough taskmaster.”

He closed the gap between them, and his gaze dropped to her
lips. Desire warred with his common sense. “How tough?”

“Very.” She took a breath, and her chest rose, fell. “Very
tough.”

The urge to kiss her roared inside him. If there was one woman
on this planet Brody shouldn’t date, it was her. Already, he’d gotten too close,
gotten too involved, when he had promised to help her, not fall for her.

Damn. Holding back the truth only made it worse. Everything in
Brody, all the practical, logical, deal with the facts sides of him, wanted to
tell Kate who he was. But Andrew had been firm—

Don’t tell her. I don’t want her to dwell
on what happened to me or to blame herself for suggesting I enlist. I want
her to move forward.

Telling her, Andrew had said, would leave Kate hurting, in pain
again. That was the last thing Brody wanted to bring to Kate Spencer’s life—more
hurt and pain. He was here to make her laugh, not cry.

“Here.” Kate thrust a bright pink apron between them. “Sorry I
don’t have any in more manly colors.”

“This’ll be fine.” He slipped it over his head. “Reminds me of
med school when one of my roommates did the laundry one week and washed the lab
coats with a red sweatshirt. We were all pink for a while.”

Kate laughed. “My brother said the pink made him look
approachable to the ladies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Though, I have to say, Andrew was one of the most manly men
I’ve ever known. When the war started, he told me he wanted to make a
difference. So I said he should…” She shook her head and her eyes misted. “He
joined the National Guard, and really took to the job. Everything Andrew did, he
gave a hundred and ten percent.”

Brody swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Such inadequate words. He’d said them many times over the years
of being a doctor, but never had they run more hollow than right now. Maybe
because he knew Andrew, and knew that loss didn’t even begin to describe the
hole now left in the world.

“It’s okay. I’ve always wondered and wished…” She shook her
head again and bit her lip. “Anyway, he died doing what he loved. And although I
miss him every single day, I’m proud of him.” She swiped at her eyes, and let
out a long breath. “Now let’s to get to work so he can be proud of me, too.”

Brody followed her into the kitchen in the back. Stainless
steel countertops and machines gleamed under the bright lights. Here, the sweet
scents were stronger, a tempting perfume filling the space. “So, where do we
start? With Riley and Stace’s cupcakes?”

“Not yet. We’ll be making those closer to the date of the
wedding, so they’ll be fresh. Right now, we have another cupcake order to
complete.” She pointed to a huge sack on the floor. “You offered to be the
muscle, so let’s see how much muscle you have. I need five pounds in that mixer
there.”

He lifted the heavy bag, then gave her a blank look. “Do I just
dump the whole thing in?”

She laughed. “No. Weigh it in that container on the scale, then
when I tell you, you’re going to add it, a little at a time.” She dropped sticks
of butter into the mixing bowl, then added sugar and turned on the beaters.
“Have you ever cooked anything before?”

“Does making grilled cheese with an iron count?” He grinned.
“Old college trick. Some wax paper from a cereal box, a loaf of bread, a package
of cheese and an iron, and dinner is done.”

“All I can say is thank God you went into medicine instead of
the restaurant industry.” She added eggs, one at a time, keeping the beaters
whirring until the mixture blended into a pale yellow ribbon. She crossed to
Brody and added the rest of the dry ingredients to the flour. “Now remember, add
a little at a time, otherwise the flour will go everywhere and we’ll get
covered. I’m baking cupcakes, not you and me.”

Heat flushed her face. What was that? You and me?

Focus, Kate, focus.

So she did, concentrating on the recipe instead of on Brody
McKenna. And the reasons why he was here. Why he had cut his schedule in half to
help her. And why work with her, of all the people in the city of Boston?

A few minutes later, the two of them scooped the batter into
cupcake liners, then popped the trays into the oven. Kate started melting some
chocolate, then laying out molds for the candy orders. “We’ll pour these, then
make the pink flowers that go with them. By then the cupcakes should be cooled
and ready to frost. If you want to start the buttercream frosting, I’ll get the
ingredients out for you. Frosting is pretty simple. Dump and mix.”

“That I can handle.” He shot her a lopsided grin, then he
paused and stepped forward. The streetlights glimmered outside, casting a golden
glow over the counter under the window. The city’s busy hum had dropped to a
whisper. The storm had broken, and from time to time, a night bird called
out.

Kate’s gaze met Brody’s. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever
seen. A color as rich and true as the ocean. Eyes that studied her and analyzed
her, and made her heart trip.

What the heck was she doing here?

Because right now it didn’t feel like baking cupcakes. At
all.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“I can make a huge mess just heating up restaurant takeout. But
you…” he gestured toward the kitchen counters, “you manage to keep this place
clean from start to finish.”

The flush returned to her cheeks. “Oh, I’m not that neat. You
should see my bookshelves and my closets.” Had she just invited him to her
apartment? If she danced any closer to the edge, she’d fall over—and fall for
Mr. Wrong. She wanted steady, dependable, quiet, not a man who turned her
insides into Jell-o and sent a riot of desire roaring through her whenever he
smiled.

“I didn’t say you were that neat,” he said, and the grin played
again on his lips, “because you, uh, have some flour…”

He reached out a finger, slid it down her cheek. A warm, slight
touch. Sexy in its innocence. She drew in a breath, held it. “Right there,” he
finished.

“Thank you.” The words were a whisper. Her heart hammered in
her chest.

“Anytime.” His voice dropped, low, husky, tempting.

His hand lingered against her cheek for a long, dark second.
Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to?

Then the oven timer beeped and broke the spell. She stepped
back. “We…we should get back to work.”

“Yeah.” Those blue eyes locked on hers. “We wouldn’t want
anything to get burned.”

“No. We wouldn’t.” She grabbed a pair of potholders and turned
toward the oven before she could question whether he was talking about
cupcakes—or them. She opened the oven, took out the trays and laid them on the
counter to cool for a minute before she could remove the cupcakes and set them
on racks.

Brody stood to the side, watching her. “You go a million miles
a minute here. No wonder you never have time to eat.”

“There are days when it’s slow.” Then she looked at the list of
orders clipped to the board against the wall and laughed. “Though I have to
admit, there aren’t too many of those. Thank goodness.”

“Admit it. You’re just as Type A as I am.”

She bristled. “I’m as far from Type A as you get.”

“You run your own business, work too many hours, dig in and get
the work done regardless of the obstacles in your way.” He flicked out fingers
to emphasize his list. “That defines Type A to me.”

“You’ve got me all wrong.” She turned away, and started taking
the cupcakes out of the pans. Just as she’d thought. He’d admitted he was the
exact kind of career focused man she tried to avoid. The kind who swept a woman
off her feet, then left her in the dust when his job called. “My father was type
A-plus. He worked every second he could. Took on extra shifts because he was
convinced no other surgeon could do as good a job as he could.”

“Your father was a doctor, too?”

“Yes. So that means I know the type. Come home at the end of
the day, dump an emotional load on the family dinner table, then leave again
when it’s time for play practice or violin lessons. That is
not
me.” How could he see her in that same light? She had a life, a
world outside this bakery. Her gaze dropped to the cupcakes before her. Didn’t
she? “At all.”

“Not all doctors are the same. And even so, being driven isn’t
always a bad thing, you know,” he said. “That’s the kind of trait that
encourages you to do things like expand the business, open new locations.”

“You’re here to help, Dr. McKenna, not analyze me or my life
choices.” Suddenly he seemed much closer than when he’d been touching her a
moment ago. She didn’t need anyone to hold a magnifying glass to her life, or
her choices. Because when they did that, all she could see was mistakes. “I’d
appreciate it if you stuck to mixing dough and left the personal issues to the
side. You stay out of my personal life and I’ll stay out of yours. I’m sure you
don’t want me analyzing why you’re working here instead of taking care of
patients.”

He stared at her for a long moment. His jaw worked, then he let
out a long breath. “Yeah, I agree. Keeping this impersonal is best for both of
us.”

“Agreed.” She should have been relieved that he agreed. Then
why did a stone of disappointment weigh on her chest? She stowed the baked
cupcakes in the refrigerator then removed her apron and laid it over a chair.
“We’re done here tonight.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We are.”

* * *

That couldn’t have gone worse if he’d lit a flame to the
night and set it ablaze. Regret filled Brody the next morning, heavy and thick.
He sat in a booth at the Morning Glory, thinking for a man intending to do the
right thing, he kept going in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Brody, how you doing?” Stace plopped a coffee cup before
him and filled it to the brim with steaming java.