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“I don’t know, Marsha…” If she agreed, it would leave her alone with Mark.
“You mean you’d keep your child from seeing a movie she’s been wanting to see because you’re too afraid to stay by yourself with Mark Clayborn.”
Put that way, it did sound kind of childish. But it was true.
After a sigh Laura Jo said, “Let me speak to Allie. She may rather stay here with the dog.”
Laura Jo called to her daughter. Hearing the idea, Allie jumped up and down, squealing that she wanted to go to the movie.
“Okay, Marsha, but you’ll have to come and get her. I’m in the middle of making king cakes.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
While they waited for Marsha to arrive, Laura Jo punched the dough down and placed it in the refrigerator to rest. She then cleaned Allie up so she’d be ready to go when Marsha arrived.
“Who’s going to hide the baby if you leave?” Mark teased Allie.
“I bet Mommy will let you.”
He looked over at Laura Jo. “Will you?”
“Yes, you can hide the baby.” She made it sound like she was talking to a mischievous boy.
“Mark, will you do the colors for me too?” Allie asked, as she pulled on one of Gus’s ears.
“I don’t know if I know how to do those.” Mark was sitting in a large chair in the living area with one foot on the ottoman.
“Mommy will show you. She knows how to do it all.”
Mark met Laura Jo’s gaze over Allie’s head. “She knows how to do it all, does she?”
A tingle went down her spine. Leave it to Mark to make baking a king cake sound sexier than it really was.
Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. Allie skipped to it while Laura Jo and Mark followed behind her. Laura Jo stepped around Allie and opened the door.
“Come on, Allie,” Marsha said. “We need to hurry if we’re going to be there on time.” Marsha looked at Laura Jo. “Just let her spend the night since she was coming to me early in the morning anyway. Enjoy your evening. Hi, Mark. Bye, Mark.” With that, Marsha whisked Allie away.
“Does she always blow in and blow out with such force?” Mark asked.
Laura Jo closed the door with a heavy awareness of being alone with Mark. “Sometimes. I need to finish the cake and get out of your way.”
“I invited you to dinner and I expect you to stay. Are you scared to be here with me, knowing Allie isn’t here to protect you?”
“She wasn’t protecting me!” Had she been using Allie as a barrier between her and men? No, her first priority was Allie and taking care of her. It had nothing to do with fear.
“Then quit acting as if you’re scared I might jump you.”
Laura Jo ignored his comment and headed toward the kitchen. She pulled the large bowl of dough out of the refrigerator.
“So what has to be done to it now?” Mark asked.
“Roll it out.” She placed the bowl on the corner. “Will you hand me that bag of flour?”
He reached across the wide counter and pulled the bag to him. He then pushed it toward her. Leaning a hip against the cabinet as if he had no place he’d rather be, he asked, “So what happens now?”
“Are you asking for a play-by-play?” She spread flour across the counter.
“Maybe.”
“I have to divide the dough.” She pulled it apart and set what she wasn’t going to use right away back into the bowl.
“Why’re you doing that?”
“This recipe makes two cakes. Are you sure there isn’t a basketball game on that you want to watch?”
“Nope, I like watching you.”
Focusing her attention on her baking again, she dumped the dough onto the granite corner top. She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a rolling pin.
“You didn’t think I’d have one of those, did you?” Mark asked from his position beside her.
“Do you?”
“I’m sure I do around here somewhere. I’d have to hunt for it.”
“That’s why I brought my own.” She punched the dough flat with her palms then picked up the pin and started rolling.
“While I roll this out, would you find the cinnamon? It’s in one of these bags.”
“Sure.” He walked to the other side of the room and pulled a bowl out of the cabinet. They each did their jobs in silence.”
Heat washed over her. She was far too aware of him being near. All her disquiet went into making the dough thin and wide. “Would you also open the cream cheese? I set it out to soften earlier.”
“Will do.”
Laura Jo had never had a man help her in the kitchen. Her father had no interest in cooking, not even grilling. Phil had seen it as woman’s work and never helped. It was nice to have someone interested in the same thing that she was. To work with her.
“I’m going to need the sugar. I forgot to bring any.” Maybe if she kept him busy, he wouldn’t stand so close.
“That I do have. Coming right up.” Mark reached under the counter and pulled out a plastic container. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Laura Jo brushed her hair away with the back of her hand, sending flour dust into the air.
“Turn around,” Mark said.
“Why?”
“Just turn around. For once just trust me.”
Behind her there was the sound of a drawer being pulled open then pushed back.
“What are—?”
Mark stepped close enough that she felt his heat from her shoulders to her hips. Strong fingers glided over her scalp and fanned out, gathering her hair.
Her lungs began to hurt and she released the breath she held. Every part of her was aware of how close Mark stood. His body brushed hers as he moved to a different angle. One hand drifted over her temple to capture a stray strand. His warm breath fluttered across the nap of her neck. She quivered.
There was a tug then a pull before he said, “There, that should help.”
He moved and the warmth th
at had had her heart racing disappeared, leaving her with a void that she feared only Mark could fill.
She touched the back of her head. He had tied her hair up with a rag. “Thanks.”
“Now you can work without getting flour all in your hair.”
He’d been doing something practical and she had been wound up about him being so close. She needed to finish these cakes and go home as soon as possible.
“Would you mind melting a stick of butter?”
“Not at all,” Mark said in an all-too-cheerful manner.
Laura Jo continued to roll the dough into a rectangle, while keeping an eye on Mark as he moved around on the other side of the counter. “One more thing.”
He raised a brow.
“Would you mix the cinnamon and sugar together?”
“Yeah. How much?” Mark headed again to where the bowls were.
“Like you are making cinnamon toast.”
“How do you know I know how to make cinnamon toast?”
“Everyone knows how to do that,” she said, as she finished rolling the first half of the dough. “While I roll out the other dough, will you spread butter on this one then put the sugar cinnamon mixture over that?”
“I don’t know. All that might be out of my territory.”
She chuckled. “I think you can handle it.”
Over the next few minutes they each worked at their own projects. Laura Jo was used to making the cakes by herself but found she liked having a partner even in something as simple as a cake. She glanced at Mark. His full attention was on what he was doing. He approached his assignment much as he did giving medical care, with an effort to do the very best, not miss any detail.
She looked over to where he was meticulously shaking the sugar mixture on the dough from a spoon. “You know you really can’t do that wrong.”
“Uh?”
He must have been so involved in what he was doing he hadn’t heard her. “Enjoy what you’re doing a little. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Mark straightened. “This comes from the person who only laughs when my dog gets the best of me.”
“I laugh at other times.”
“Really?”
Was she truly that uptight? Maybe she was but she could tell that lately she’d been starting to ease up. Ever since she’d started spending time with Mark.
