Gina looked over the outside as she stood in front of the entrance. “Well, either ego’s not his problem or the rent’s really cheap here,” she speculated.
There were no hours posted on the door, so she had no idea if it was open or not. Maybe she should have called ahead, she thought.
Trying the doorknob, Gina found that the door was open. Coming in, her entrance was heralded by the light tinkling of an actual bell that was hanging right over the front door rather than a buzzer or a symphony of virtual chimes.
It was almost charming, she thought. Probably to catch the customer off guard so that they wouldn’t think fast enough to protest being hit with an oversize price tag for a cake that could have just as easily been made out of a couple of everyday, standard box mixes.
At first glance, there was no one in the front of the store. She did, however, see a partially closed door that led to what she presumed was the back where “all the magic happened.”
“Hello?” Gina called out, raising her voice slightly. “Is anyone here?”
Listening, she heard movement coming from the back. Maybe it was the person who took the cake orders, she thought. Odd that they didn’t come out when the bell sounded.
When no one came out to the showroom, Gina tried again.
“I’d like to order a wedding cake for a wedding taking place three weeks from now.”
Actually, it was three weeks from this past Saturday, she thought, but that was a tidbit she was going to save until she had someone in front of her she could make eye contact with.
The movement she’d initially heard had definitely stopped. And still no one opened the back door any farther. Weren’t they coming out?
This was all very strange, she thought. Maybe this “artiste” wasn’t here and she had walked in on a misguided burglar who was caught in the act of trying to rob the place.
She tried one last time. Raising her voice again, Gina called out, “If this is a bad time, I’ll come back. You don’t have your store hours posted, but—”
She saw the door leading to the back room opening all the way.
Finally, she thought.
And then, when she saw the person walking to the front of the shop—walking toward her—her jaw slackened, causing her mouth to drop open. Any other sound that might have come out at that point didn’t.
After a beat, Gina realized that she had forgotten to breathe.
Shane.
But it couldn’t be.
Could it?
And yet... It was definitely Shane, cutting the distance between them in what now felt like slow motion.
Was she dreaming?
She would have blinked to clear her eyes if it didn’t strike her as being almost cartoon-like.
A hot wave washed over her.
Breathe, damn it. Breathe! she silently ordered herself.
* * *
When he heard her voice, Shane was almost convinced that he was imagining things. He had come out to see and prove himself wrong.
Even so, he knew he would have recognized her voice anywhere.
And he was right.
It was her.
Ten years went up in smoke and just for an instant, he was that lovesick kid again.
And then reality, with all its harsh reminders, returned with a vengeance.
“Hello, Gina.”
Because for one wild split second, the shop she was standing in had insisted on going for a quick spin around her, Gina grabbed the edge of the counter to keep herself steady. She refused to do something so incredibly hokey as to pass out even though she felt as if she could barely get her legs to support her.
“Shane?” she whispered.
His name slipped out before she could stop herself. It looked like Shane, except that it was a handsomer, upgraded version of the man who lived ten years, unchanged, in her past. His face appeared more gaunt now, and more rugged. Some of the boyishness had worn away, replaced, she noted, by an almost arousing manliness.
His hair was still blond, though, and his eyes, his eyes were still that piercing shade of blue that always seemed to go right through her. Time hadn’t changed that, she thought.
The corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly at the confusion that was on her face.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I look like,” he said in response to the questioning way she had said his name.
Oh God, no, Gina thought. Even if she had gotten amnesia, there was no way she could ever forget Shane’s face. Like it or not, it was and always would be permanently embossed on her brain.
Because she realized that she was staring at him as if he were an apparition, Gina cleared her throat and stumbled her way through an explanation.
“I’m sorry—” she began only to have him interrupt her.
“Nice to finally hear you say that,” Shane said.
Gina wasn’t able to read his expression, but she instantly pulled her shoulders back, prepared to engage in an unpleasant exchange. Not that, at least from his point of view, she could actually fault him. But in her own defense, she had tried to find him and apologize. But she wasn’t able to and that was his fault. He was the one who had taken off and disappeared, not her.
“—but I seem to be in the wrong place,” Gina continued tersely. “I’m looking for a cake designer named Cassidy—”
Shane inclined his head. For now, he stayed behind the counter. He didn’t trust himself to come any closer to Gina than he was at this moment. Despite the fact that he felt she had humiliated him, despite being angry at her, the woman had still managed to fill his head, not to mention his dreams, every waking minute for more than an entire year.
It had taken that much time for his longing to subside, and then another year for him to pull himself together. That was when he admitted to himself that he didn’t want to be a lawyer. That had once been his parents’ dream, not his, even though he’d tried to honor it. So one day he just walked away from it, had gone to work with his older brother halfway around the world and ultimately found something he felt he had a passion for. Something unique and unlike anything he had ever done before.
Myriad emotions pulsed through Shane right now as he looked at Gina, although he was able to keep any of that from registering on his face.
Instead, he told Gina in a very calm voice, “I’m Cassidy.”
Gina stared at him, her eyebrows coming together almost in an upside down V. What was he trying to put over on her?
“No, you’re not,” she contradicted, almost annoyed that he was trying to fool her. “You’re Shane.”
Just saying his name again after all this time sent ripples of warmth and longing undulating through her. Her brain was having trouble computing seeing him after all this time. At the very least, the man should have had the decency to look a little paunchy and worn around the edges, not like some rugged movie star stepping off the big screen.
And why was he smiling at her like that? Was he going to say something sarcastic?
“You don’t remember,” Shane guessed.
“Remember what?” she asked, feeling more and more confused, befuddled and exasperated.
This morning, she had been happily saving yet another anxious bride’s wedding, and now, less than a couple of hours later, she felt as if she was suddenly caught up in the center of a whirlpool, being tossed around and unable to figure out which way was up.
“That my middle name is Cassidy,” he went on to tell her. “Shane Cassidy Callaghan,” he said, giving her his full name as he watched her face.
Seeing Gina again without any warning just served to remind him how much he had missed looking at that face. How much he had missed the scent of her hair and the feel of her soft body pressed against his.
Get a grip, Callaghan. She did a number on you once, don’t leave yourself open for
another assault. She’s even forgotten your middle name.
But that didn’t surprise him. She’d undoubtedly forgotten a great many things about him, Shane thought. And about the two of them.
Things that he couldn’t forget no matter how much he tried.
“Then Cakes Created by Cassidy is your company?” she asked him, not bothering to hide her disbelief.
Gina was having a great deal of trouble processing any of it. Not just seeing him again, but the rest of it, as well.
A cake designer? Really? Shane?
The Shane she’d known back in college had occasionally slipped her notes with drawings of the two of them at the bottom. She recalled that he liked to draw. But back then the only thing he was capable of doing in the kitchen was opening the refrigerator door.
How had he gone from kitchen illiterate to a master baker?
“It’s catchy, don’t you think?” Shane asked. There was a touch of pride in his voice that she found hard to miss now.
“More like incredible,” she admitted.
“That’s a word I usually hear after someone has sampled one of my cakes.” Before she could say anything, Shane changed the conversation’s direction. “When you walked in, you said something about coming here to order a wedding cake.”
She was almost grateful to him. It was as if he had snapped his fingers, getting her out of her mental haze and forcing her to focus on the reason she had come here in the first place. The sooner she stated it, the sooner she could get away.
“Right.” She took out the paper that Theresa had given her. The cake’s specifications were written in the woman’s rather striking handwriting. She focused on it now. “I need to have this cake made and delivered to the Blue Room at the Bedford Hilton Hotel by two o’clock.” Pointing to the line on the paper, she said, “I need it by that date. That’s in three weeks.”
He didn’t bother looking at the paper. “I know when it is—”
“Good then.” She left the paper on the counter for him. “You can send the bill to—”
“—and it’s not possible,” Shane said, completing his sentence.
Caught off guard, she stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“I said that it’s not possible,” Shane repeated in the same quiet, calm voice.
“What do you mean it’s not possible?” Gina demanded. “I’m giving you three weeks’ notice.”
“I know,” Shane responded, unfazed. “And I’m booked solid.”
Was he bragging? Okay, she’d let him have his moment. All things considered, he deserved it. She had never wished him ill. She looked around, noticing for the first time that there were framed photographs on the walls. None of him, she noted, but of some of the cakes he had created.
The one that caught her eye was amazingly constructed in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. How did someone even begin to do that? she wondered, stunned.
She looked at Shane, utterly impressed. “You’re doing well, I see.”
Shane nodded and replied without a trace of bravado, “Very well, thanks.”
“And I’m happy for you,” she told him—and she meant it, aside from attempting to get on his good side for the sake of her client. “Surely you can squeeze in one more cake.”
She couldn’t read the expression on his face. But there was no misunderstanding his words. “No,” he replied flatly. “Sorry.”
Chapter Four
He couldn’t be serious, Gina thought.
“But it’s just one cake,” she argued, unable to believe that Shane, or whatever he chose to call himself these days, couldn’t find a way to make this important cake a reality. “It’s not even anything especially elaborate, like that tower or bridge,” she said, gesturing at the photographs of cakes he had made. “Just a lot of tiers and your signature swirl around the edges.” Theresa had told her that Sylvie insisted on the swirls.
But Shane remained steadfast and shook his head again, turning her request down. “Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry at all, Gina thought. This had to be his way of getting back at her after all this time. Well, she had no intentions of having her client wind up paying for something that she had done a decade ago.
“Why won’t you do it?” she asked. She knew that if she came back and told Sylvie that she wasn’t able to get her cake for the wedding—failing so early in their association—the bride was just going to fall to pieces and most likely fire her. This was becoming a challenge for her. “What if I pay you twice the amount that you normally charge?” Gina proposed. “Will you find a way to do it then?”
But Shane remained unmoved. “Sorry, Gina. You’re going to have to just find someone else to bake your cake for your big day.”
Was that it? Did he think that she was asking him to make her wedding cake? Gina was quick to set him straight. “The cake isn’t for me.”
“Right,” Shane replied sarcastically. “It’s for everyone at the reception.” He’d heard that approach before.
“Well, technically, yes,” Gina agreed. She was right, she thought. Shane did think she was asking for him to bake her wedding cake. She could see how he felt that she was rubbing salt into his wounds, even after all this time. “But if you don’t make this cake, in less than three weeks, there is going to be one unhappy bride who will be having a nervous breakdown because she is going to feel that her big day is just crumbling all to pieces right in front of her.”
Gina saw something in Shane’s eyes that she couldn’t quite make out, and then he shrugged, unmoved. “I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do for you, Gina. I’m booked solid. You’ll just have to eat someone else’s cake at your wedding.”
A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Had she hurt him that much? Over the years, when she couldn’t locate him, she’d talked herself into believing that he really hadn’t cared.
But he had, she realized.
“It’s not my wedding, Shane,” she told him quietly.
About to go back into the kitchen area and send out one of his assistants to usher her out, Shane stopped and turned around again.
“Wait, what?” he asked. Was she lying, trying to get him to agree to create one of his signature cakes for her, or was she being truthful?
“I said it’s not my wedding,” Gina repeated, slowly enunciating every word.
This didn’t make any sense to him. Shane was accustomed to having the bride—usually accompanied by the groom—be the one who placed the order for the cake. And this was only after an unusual amount of deliberation and questions, not to mention cake sampling, took place. If Gina wasn’t the bride, then what was she doing placing the order for the wedding cake?
“All right,” he said gamely. “Whose wedding is it?” he asked.
“The bride’s name is Sylvie Stevens,” she answered, adding, “Right now, quite honestly, the groom’s name escapes me.”
Most of the miscellaneous thoughts that usually resided in her head had all inexplicably vanished, leaving her to fend for herself. The reason for that was because she had run into Shane in the least likely place she would have ever thought of seeing him. In a shop that he apparently owned and operated as a creative baker. All of this had left her practically incoherent and totally unprepared to deal with any of this.
“This Sylvie Stevens,” Shane said, picking up on the bride’s name, “is she a relative of yours?”
There was no doubt about it. Shane felt as if he was groping around in the dark, trying to find the door so he could get out.
He was fairly certain that he had met all of Gina’s relatives during the time that they had been together. As he recalled, it wasn’t that big a family. He knew he would have remembered someone named Sylvie.
“No—” Gina began.
He cut her off. “A friend, then?” he asked in disbelief. This w
as really an unusual circumstance if she was making the decision for a friend. Despite his initial decision to just close the door on Gina the way she had so callously closed it on him, Shane found his curiosity aroused. “Are you here making arrangements for a cake for a friend?”
Saying yes would have been the easy way out, but Gina knew her best bet was to be totally honest with him. “I can’t call this bride-to-be my friend, although some of my clients do wind up that way by the time the wedding takes place.”
He stared at her. He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
“You’ve lost me,” Shane told her impatiently.
His choice of words vividly brought back the past to her.
I did, didn’t I? Gina thought, a huge pang of regret twisting her stomach. She really wished that there was such a thing as a do-over button she could press.
She took a breath. “Maybe I should explain,” she began.
“Maybe you should,” Shane agreed crisply.
He silently warned himself not to get caught up in any of this. That meant that he couldn’t allow the sound of her voice to get to him or allow the way he had once felt about her to influence him in any way.
But despite everything, Shane had to admit that his curiosity had been aroused in a big way.
Gina took another deep breath before telling him, “I’m a professional bridesmaid.”
His reaction was the same sort she had become used to getting. “What the hell is that?” Shane demanded.
“Just what it sounds like,” she told him. “Simply put, I hire out my services to prospective brides. I promise them that I will take care of any and all possible emergencies that might arise before and during the ceremony. Emergencies that could derail what the bride had envisioned as her perfect day.”
Gina’s explanation had almost rendered him speechless.
Almost.
“You’re kidding,” Shane said, recovering. “You, the woman who couldn’t commit herself to the man who foolishly bared his soul to her, you’re in charge of making other people’s weddings a success?” he asked incredulously.
Bridesmaid for Hire Page 4