Page 7 of Christmas Magic

Her gaze flicked up to meet his, and she waggled her eyebrows.

He laughed.

Galahad flopped on his side on the chair. “I can’t take any more of the flirting.”

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Rose said from across the room.

“Or an Ebenezer Scrooge,” Petunia supplied.

“If people weren’t kissing and waving and interrupting my much needed naps, I wouldn’t be so touchy.” Galahad jumped down from the chair. “I need a snack.”

Lucian started down the ladder. “I’ll make sure your bowl is filled.”

“Any chance of the good stuff? You know, the super yummy duck dinner?”

Ah. Sometimes Galahad knew exactly the right thing to say. They happened to be out of the canned duck dinner.

More grateful than the feline could ever know, Lucian said: “I’ll see what I can do.”

At Devon Rex Desserts, Cora handed the filled-out form to the teenage girl, wearing a fuzzy red and white Santa hat, behind the bakery counter. “The order’s for the Historical Society’s Christmas party. I’d like to pick up the items that Saturday around nine.”

The girl glanced over the form, nodded, and jotted down the requested time. “We’ll have your order ready for you, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Johnson. How unremarkable that sounded, but she hadn’t had a choice in her late husband’s surname. He’d made up for the boring name, though, by being very well-connected and very good at managing his jewelry business.

Upon his death, he’d made her an extremely rich widow, which had allowed her—finally—to live the life she wanted, not the life dictated by her penny-pinching control-freak of a spouse. No longer did she have to spend days in the kitchen preparing for get-togethers if she didn’t want to. Now she ordered what she wanted, and others did the hard work for her.

Stepping aside, Cora made room for the curly-haired man behind her in line to speak with the girl handling the pre-orders. Cora searched the crowd in the entrance for Roberta and finally found her eyeing the pies, cakes, and assorted cookies in the nearby bakery case.

Cora crossed to Roberta. “That’s dessert taken care of for the holiday party.”

Licking her bottom lip, Roberta straightened. “I wasn’t hungry until we came in here. Now, I’m famished.”

No surprise there. Roberta never missed an opportunity to indulge her love of sweets. Also, the most delicious smells lingered in the bakery: cinnamon, ginger, and coffee, with notes of caramelized sugar.

A mother shepherded two rowdy young boys away from the bakery case, and Cora’s gaze landed on the chocolate cake on the middle shelf. The icing on top was covered with crushed candy canes. Her mouth watered. She’d never been able to resist the blend of chocolate and peppermint.

“We could go over the arrangements for the party one more time,” she said.

Roberta’s eyes shone. “Good idea. We wouldn’t want to forget anything.”

Or anyone. “No, we wouldn’t.”

Cora joined the queue of people waiting to be seated in the restaurant portion of the bakery. Thankfully, the line moved quickly. In no time, they’d almost reached the podium, decorated with shiny garland similar to what Lucian had been hanging in the window of Black Cat Antiquities.

Lucian’s surname was Lord. That was a last name of distinction.

Desire tingled low in Cora’s belly as she recalled him up on the stepladder: strong, capable, and in-charge. Before he’d noticed her, she’d admired the way his shoulder muscles rippled under his shirt, and how his stomach flattened at the waistband of his snug, dark-wash jeans. He had a magnificent body; the physique of one of those male models who posed in underwear ads.

Perhaps she should have gone into the shop and offered to help him hang his garland? Surely he’d have appreciated her handing him just the right amount of tape? Whether the piece had to be big or small, she’d have given him what he needed. Molly hadn’t seemed interested in helping—

“Hello, ladies.” Tall, black-haired Diane Thompson, who owned the bakery along with her younger sister, addressed them from behind the podium. “Window booth, as usual?”

“Yes, please.” Cora never missed the opportunity to people-watch, especially when Lucian’s shop was just a few premises down. Who knew when he’d leave the store? She might get the chance to talk to him without his fiancée around.

Diane showed them to a booth. “Your waitress will be right with you.” She handed them menus, decorated with drawings of large-eared Devon Rex cats, then headed back to the front of the bakery.