Single Mum Seeking.... Raye Morgan

a mean omelet after midnight for your Saturday night date doesn’t mean you can cook. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can bake.”

      “I’m not proposing to be your baker. You’ve got that slot nailed. I’m signing on as an assistant. I’m ready to assist you in any way I can.”

      He meant it. She could see the resolve in his eyes. But how could he possibly be a help rather than a hindrance? There was no way he could get up to speed in time. Still, she was in an awful bind here.

      “So you can cook?” she asked him skeptically.

      “Yes.”

      “There’s a difference between cooking and baking.”

      “I know that.” He shook his head impatiently. “Jill, you’re the baker. But you need a support staff and I’m going to be it.”

      “But...what are you planning to do?”

      “Prep pans, wash pans, drizzle on glaze, pack product for delivery, deliver product, go for supplies, answer the phones...”

      She was beginning to smile. Maybe she was being foolish, but she didn’t have much choice, did she? “And the most important thing?” she coached.

      He thought for a moment, then realized what she was talking about.

      “Keep an eye on the boys,” he said and was rewarded with a quick smile. “You got it. In fact, I’ll do anything and everything in order to leave you room to practice your creative artistry.”

      “My what?” She laughed and gave him a push. “Oh, Connor, you smooth talker you.”

      “That’s what it is.” He took her by the shoulders and held her as though she was very, very special. “I’ve eaten some of your cake wizardry, lady. Magnifique!”

      The word hung in the air. She gazed up at him, suddenly filled with a wave of affection. Had she ever noticed before how his eyes crinkled in the corners? And how long his beautiful dark lashes were? Reaching out, she pressed her palm to his cheek for just a moment, then drew it back and turned away so that he wouldn’t see the tears beginning to well in her eyes.

      “Okay,” she said a little gruffly. “We’ll give it a try. As long as you turn out to be worth more than the trouble you cause.” But she glanced back with a smile, showing him that she was only teasing.

      “I won’t get in your way, I swear. You just wait and see. We’ll work together like a well-oiled machine.”

      She blinked back the tears and smiled at him. “You promise?”

      “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

      “Ooh, don’t say that. Bad vibes.” She shook her head. “Okay then. Here’s the game plan. I’m going to go back over all my recipes and check to make sure I’ve got the right supplies before I start mixing new batters. You go and see what the boys are up to. Then you come back and help me.”

      He saluted her like a soldier. “Mais oui, mon chef.”

      “Wow. Those sleepy-time French lessons really did do some good. And here I was a non-believer.”

      He looked a bit nonplussed himself. “Every now and then a few French words just seem to burst out of me, so yeah, I guess so.”

      He turned his attention to the twins not a moment too soon. There was a ruckus going on in the next room. The boys were crying. Someone had pushed someone down and grabbed away his toy. The other one was fighting to get it back. Happened all the time. They needed supervision.

      But there was really no time today to deal with it properly. He went back to discuss the situation with Jill.

      “If you can think of any strenuous activities, something that might make them take their naps a bit earlier...” she mused, checking the supply of flavorings and crossing them off a list, then handing the list to him to start working on an inventory of the flour she had in storage.

      “Say no more,” He gave her a wise look. “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve. As soon as I finish counting up the canisters, I’ll deal with those little rascals.”

      * * *

      Time was racing by. Her convection oven could accommodate four cakes at a time, but they had to be carefully watched.

      “We’ve got to get these done by noon,” she told him. “I can’t start the mini Bundts any later than that. We’ve got to get the minis done by three, glazed and packed by four-thirty, and off for delivery by five.”

      He nodded. He knew she wasn’t completely resigned to him being there with her. This was her biggest day and her eyes betrayed how worried she was. Her shoulders looked tight. She wasn’t confident that they could do it, even working hard together.

      He only hoped he could—what? Help her? That went without saying. Protect her? Sure. That was his main goal. Always had been. If only he’d realized earlier that his vague distrust of Brad was based on more than jealousy. It seemed to be real in ways that were only now becoming more and more clear to him. It was a good thing she’d reconciled herself to accepting his help, because he knew he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave her on her own. He had to be here for her.

      Meanwhile, he had to find a way to wear out the boys. He tried to recall his own childhood, but eighteen months old was a little too far back to remember much. Still, he had a few ideas.

      He took the boys out into the backyard. There was a big sloping hill covered with grass. Improvising, he set up a racetrack with different stations where the boys had to perform simple modified gymnastic elements in order to move on to the next station.

      They loved it. They each had a natural competitive spirit that came out in spades as they began to understand the goals involved. Each wanted to win with a naive gusto that made him laugh out loud. They were a great pair of twins.

      They were so into it. Running up the hill took a lot of their time. Shrieking with excitement was a factor. And Connor found he was having as much fun as they were.

      At one point, he had them racing uphill, each pulling a red wagon filled with rocks to see who could get to the top first. He’d brought along lots of prizes, including pieces of hard candy that they loved. He knew they were sure to rot teeth, but he would only use them today and never again. Or not often, anyway. He also made sure to keep the winnings pretty equal between the two of them, so that each could shine in turn.

      But, as he told Jill a bit later, the one drawback was—no matter how tired he made them, he was even more so. He was pitifully out of shape.

      But it was fun. That was the surprising part. The boys were a couple of great kids, both so eager, so smart. He wondered what Brad would think if he could see them. How could he possibly resist these two?

      He brought them back in and settled them down to watch an educational DVD while he went down to the kitchen to see what he could do to help Jill. She had recently pulled four cakes out of the oven and she was ready to put on a glaze.

      “Show me how,” he told her. “You’re going to need help when you glaze all those small cakes for the engagement party, aren’t you?”

      She looked at him with some hesitation, and he saw it right away. Reaching out, he took her hands in his.

      “Jill, I’m not here to take over,” he said. “I don’t expect to start making decisions or judging you. I’m here to do anything you tell me to do. You talk. I’ll listen.”

      She nodded, feeling a little chagrined. She knew he meant well. He was just here to help her. Why couldn’t she calm her fears and let him do just that?

      As she glanced up, her gaze met his and she had an impulse that horrified her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, close her eyes and hold on tightly.

      The same thing she’d felt before when he’d held her came back in a wave and she felt dizzy with it. She wanted his warmth and his comfort, wanted