Love Connection

by Crimson Romance

  “Will do. See you soon.” Michael ended the call and looked around the shabby prefurnished apartment, glad to be leaving it behind for a while. With any luck, he’d be coming back with Carly.

  • • •

  Carly bobbed her head along to Led Zeppelin’s “Misty Mountain Hop,” heart lighter but not enough to return to her beloved Pachelbel’s Canon, as she fitted her piping bag with the fat #789 decorating tip. Robert Plant sang about packing his bags for the Misty Mountains as she scooped white icing into the bag, and for the moment, she was content. Sequoia had swept through the halls of Caketopia and dismissed Carly from the groom’s cake without explanation. The radiant bride refused to elaborate, but insisted that she still wanted Carly for the main cake. To her surprise, Carly was okay with it.

  Until the wedding was over, Carly was determined to keep her thoughts positive and light. She might not hold the same spiritual beliefs as Sequoia, but she’d respect them and wouldn’t allow her negative emotions or heartbreak over Michael to infect the wedding cake. It was actually a relief to be able to focus on the main cake. Without concentrating on Michael’s designs, it was easier to pretend that her heart had never been broken.

  With a steady hand, she squeezed a thick layer of white icing on the cakes, creating soft spirals of ribbons around the tops and then lining the sides. With her angled spatula, she smoothed the ribbons of icing into flawless planes, completely level without a crumb in sight. Few things gave her more pleasure than the stark white canvas of a perfectly smooth iced cake, ready for transformation. The possibilities stretched before her, compelling her to create something the bride would never forget. Being responsible for such an important, symbolic part of the wedding day was always an honor for Carly, but even more so now that she knew how much Sequoia valued every aspect of the ritual.

  She’d complete the top layer of the fantasy fairy-tale cake first, the special cake they’d reserve to freeze and share on their first anniversary. It would be covered in delicate, lustrous bubbles and flowers. Carly pulled the premade spun sugar bubbles from their wax-paper-lined container and pressed them carefully into place, choosing only the most perfect spheres. She dusted gum paste calla lilies with edible pearl dust before arranging them within the bubbles to create a bouquet of shimmering flowers bursting from the center. After dotting perfect spheres of pearly fondant along the sides of the cake, the top layer was done. It was perfect, and Carly loved that her creation would be part of their story.

  She hummed with satisfaction as she created a posh diamond-quilted pattern onto the other cakes and dotted each intersection with a tiny perfectly spun sugar sphere. Creations like this, where everything had to be perfect, made it easy to forget that there was a life outside her workroom, that anything could rival the attention required for the intense work. In keeping with her promise to project only love and light, if Michael crept into her mind, Carly shifted her thoughts to their happy times. She’d push aside the memory of him with the perfect blonde, the way he left her to pursue his career. She’d remember instead the way his lips felt on hers, how safe she felt in his arms, how quickly he’d captured her heart, how perfectly they fit together ...

  Okay, no, she couldn’t think of Michael. She’d instead focus on the cakes, perfect technique, and how it had been a long time since Robert Plant rock and rolled.

  With a paintbrush stuck between her teeth, she pushed the cake layer on its turntable in a slow circle, checking for any imperfections and touching up the shimmery pearl powder where her sugar spheres needed extra sparkle. The cake would be magnificent, easily the most elaborate and beautiful she’d ever made. A gorgeous reflection of the union between two wonderful people who’d managed to find each other and not let go. Who worked together to sustain their relationship instead of letting fear and pride get in their way ...

  Nope, none of that. She’d promised to keep her energy positive, and she meant to do just that. With a roll of her shoulders and a quick stretch, she took a cleansing breath and centered herself. She had hours to go before the cake would be finished, and none of them would be well spent brooding over Michael.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The raucous sound of The Rusty Grainger Band’s new album filled the ballroom as dozens of vendors rushed throughout the space, finalizing details and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Carly arranged the iridescent tulle snaking around the cake table to better support the delicate glass bubbles that dotted the surface, but she felt nothing but calm. She’d made the most complicated and breathtaking cake of her career, and she was pretty sure she’d managed to keep her tears out of the batter and her heartbreak out of the icing. It was a gorgeous confection, if she said so herself.

  Anita, Carly’s assistant for the event, showed up behind her, out of breath from running around checking on last-minute details. “Okay, so it turns out the photographer wants to shoot the cake as soon as he catches the couple coming into the reception. They want to get the whole tablescape, so we’ll stage plates and forks as soon as he’s done,” Layla was across the ballroom fretting over the cupcake bar, working to avert any last-minute disasters.

  “No problem.” Carly checked her watch. “It looks like we have maybe ten minutes. I want to go touch up my hair and makeup, so please stay right here and don’t let anything happen to the cake.”

  She rushed off across the venue’s polished parquet floors, careful not to run into waitstaff or trip over wires and cables. The cake would be photographed for the couple’s personal wedding album, but they would also sell the pictures to major celebrity news outlets, and there was a chance Carly would be featured alongside it. The hotel bathroom was empty, and Carly took the time to freshen up before the place was packed. The wedding should have ended already, and within minutes the reception ballroom would be full of guests waiting for the bride and groom to make their big entrance. She brushed her hair, trying hard not to remember the way Michael ran his fingers through it in the darkness of their hotel room. After pulling it into a tight bun and checking for escaped locks, she touched up her makeup so she’d look fresh for photographs. A quick turn in the mirror assured her that she was clean, pressed, and ready for primetime.

  As she returned to her station, she briefly wondered why the groom’s cake was nowhere near the wedding cake. She’d been too wrapped up in perfecting the wedding cake to look for it, but she did hope that whoever was in charge had produced something the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Grainger would enjoy. The couple had been vague about their plans, simply assuring her that she needn’t worry.

  The DJ suddenly cut off Rusty’s album midsong, and the lighting changed. The bright overheads were turned off and the ballroom was plunged into twilight as they switched to the event lighting. A disco ball turned the dance floor into a sea of swirling stars, an effect that usually reminded Carly of cheesy high school dances, but which felt magical tonight. She’d been to countless wedding receptions, some beautiful, some tacky, but none that could compare to the luxurious fantasy confection that awaited this bride and groom. Guests filed in, murmuring in appreciation and enjoying cocktails from cut crystal stemware as they waited for Rusty and Sequoia to arrive. Several guests drifted by the wedding cake and stopped to express their awe and give their compliments to the creator. Carly beamed, equal parts proud and elated to be noticed, with only the tiniest twinge of disappointment that she was alone.

  The DJ announced the couple’s imminent arrival, the lighting changed yet again, and Carly cracked up as Hank Williams Jr.’s “All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight” blasted through the speakers. Leave it to Rusty Grainger to take a posh, sophisticated event and put his own unique spin on it. Given Sequoia’s love for classic rock and her insistence that the event remind people of a fairy tale, Carly knew she had made a concession to the man she loved by walking into her wedding reception to old-school country music. As the DJ introduced them for the first time as man and wife, Rusty and Sequoia bounded in, smiling from ear t
o ear, hands linked and held high, to thundering cheers and applause.

  A Clubhouse staffer wheeled the groom’s cake over to the wedding-cake table, careful to avoid the reveling crowd. Had they found someone from Michael’s shop to create his design? Carly shot the young assistant a sympathetic look as she wound through the guests, her teeth clenched and eyes narrowed, clearly doing her best to make sure nothing happened to the cake.

  Carly did a double take when she finally glanced at the cake. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she took in the unique design and incredible detail, all hallmarks of a Michael Welch original. Surely there was no way that anybody on his staff, no matter how talented, could make something like that. How long would it be before she stopped seeing him in everything? How many wedding receptions would it take before she could see an inventive cake and not feel like she’d had the wind knocked out of her? She wanted to do something, to spring into action and help the harried assistant stage her table, but the crowd was living up to their rowdy reputation and Carly dared not step away from her table. All eyes were on the couple, and it would be easy for someone to bump into her.

  Still, the groom’s cake was amazing. The baker had managed to capture the likeness of Rusty’s dearest canine buddy, the aptly named Hank. His spunky little bull terrier was a well-known and often-photographed companion, as comfortable touring the country on a bus as he was at home in his own backyard. The shaped cake was more than just the dog, though, as the baker had incorporated Rusty’s love of rockabilly culture and his flair for wild style in the colors and design splattered over the dog’s coat. It was an amazing cake, from the realistic pillow the dog sat upon to the collar that was so detailed it looked like real nylon. It reminded Carly so much of Michael that it made her throat tighten to look at it. There would be no tears tonight, unless they were happy tears for the sweet bride who’d done so much for her.

  Her assistant reported back, assuring her that everything was ready for the cake cutting later in the evening, including reserve sheet cakes in case the beautiful confection on the table didn’t feed the entire guest list. The crowd parted, and Rusty and Sequoia’s first dance as a married couple began. Few things touched Carly as much as the first dance. No matter how many receptions she attended, she was always moved by the sheer emotion inevitably shining through the couple’s expressions. Rusty gazed down into Sequoia’s eyes, completely focused on her, adoration written all over his face. For those three minutes, the couple would be in their own bubble, their new commitment shielding them from the disappointments and disasters that waited for them in the outside world. For the moment, nothing could touch them, and nothing else mattered.

  As the song ended, the couple kissed and parted, to the cheers of the guests who then streamed onto the dance floor to join them. Rusty caught Carly’s eye and winked. Surely there was someone else around her. Why on earth else would he be winking in her direction? She whipped around and was caught in a web of bergamot and leather, green eyes glittering in the low light. Michael. He encircled her wrist with his fingers and pulled her close, until his lips touched her ear.

  “Can we talk?” His breath caressed her neck, and the stubble brushing against her skin sent goose bumps up her arms. “Anita, you’re in charge of the cake,” he instructed her assistant.

  Somehow Carly managed to nod her head, as actual words refused to form in her brain, much less come out her lips. Her legs miraculously propelled her out of the ballroom and into the lobby, where she followed Michael across the gleaming marble floors to a dim corner. Hidden behind a giant floral arrangement, Michael pushed her against the wall, gently but insistently, until he was pressed against her.

  “I’m going to kiss you, because it’s all I’ve thought of for days, and then we’ll talk. Sound good?” He whispered against her lips, close enough to touch but not close enough to satisfy the need that burst inside her. It felt so good to let go and follow his lead.

  She managed a tiny nod before his lips claimed hers, fierce and primal in their urgency. He coaxed her lips open to deepen the kiss, and his familiar cinnamon taste flooded her memory so that her body responded without thought. Every moment they’d spent together came crashing her memory with an intensity she’d never imagined. He pulled her into his arms, and she answered with unashamed need, with a hungry enthusiasm she’d never shown any man. In his arms, she was home, and there was no need to hide.

  As the kiss ended, her eyes stubbornly refused to open. Too afraid she’d find herself in a fantasy, she buried her face in the nook where his neck and shoulder met, the spot where she fit perfectly. He held her tight, assuring her that not only did he feel the exact same desperate longing, but that he was most definitely real and this was actually happening. Tilting her head up, she caught the bottom of his strong jaw with her lips and felt his body harden in response. With a shuddering breath, he stepped back, leaving inches between them that felt like miles.

  “We still have to work this event. Can’t get too carried away.” His crooked grin told her that he wanted to take her away from the elegant lobby and find somewhere more private.

  The haze of desire lifted, slowly, as they put more space between them, and her senses returned. “We?”

  “You saw Rusty’s cake, right? Did you think someone else made that?” He poked fun at his huge ego, sending the remaining tension in her shoulders into the ether.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came for you.”

  “You did?”

  “I knew I was taking a chance, just showing up and surprising you, but I couldn’t stand to go another moment without knowing how you really felt about me. I was so scared that I’d get here and not know what to say, or that you’d turn me down.” His gaze heated, and his lips quirked into a knowing smile. “That kiss says that maybe I didn’t need to worry so much.”

  The chemistry they shared was intoxicating, apparently even debilitating since she couldn’t see or think straight around him, but it wasn’t enough to erase what she’d seen behind the door of Studio Seven. Did he swoop in to make Rusty’s cake and get some action before heading back to his life in L.A.? Surely he didn’t think she was willing to be a stop on his Valentine’s Day tour. She wasn’t exactly resisting him, though. Carly straightened her spine and recovered her wits. If anyone had seen them, her hard-earned professional reputation would be compromised. Now more than ever, she should protect it, not risk it for a make-out session with the guy who’d broken her heart. No matter that nobody had ever kissed her like that before, or that nobody else made her forget everything with a single glance.

  “So, you came here to make the cake and steal some kisses?” She sounded uptight to her own ears, but it was better than melting at the sight of someone who could leave her for the chance at a job and a hot blonde.

  He laughed, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’ll never change, will you, cupcake?” He shook his head and took her hands in his. “I came back to get you, to tell you that I’ve fallen for you. I can’t stand being away from you, and all I can hope is that you feel even a little bit of that.”

  A little bit of that? Sure, she felt a little bit of that, if he meant that she couldn’t breathe from the grief of losing him, that everything changed, for the worse, when he left. Her world had flattened, the air simply gone out of it. Without Michael, everything was gray, bland, and hopeless.

  “I do,” she managed to squeak out past the lump forming in her throat.

  “I told myself that it wasn’t real, what we had. That you would’ve asked me to stay if you felt the same way, but I know that was a cop-out. I hoped that once a little time passed, I’d be normal again, that I’d be able to fall asleep or wake up without aching for you. It never happened. It just got worse, the longer I went without seeing you.”

  “Me, too. I wanted you to stay with me, but I couldn’t make you give up your dream to be with me. It was too much to ask.” The last word caught in her throat, and he ran his thumb across
her cheek before cupping her chin in his hand.

  “I’d give up anything to be with you. I’m in love with you, Carly Piper.”

  He sealed his statement with a kiss, sweet and full of sincerity, and she wanted to return the sentiment, but ...

  “What about the show?” Another thought chilled her: what about the blonde?

  “I’m nothing without you, worthless. I want you to come back with me and be my partner, whether it’s in business or on the show. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll stay here. Whatever it takes.”

  “What? Be your partner? I can’t be on a television show. I can’t close my shop and move away, and you can’t leave your sister.”

  “We don’t have to move. The show is shot on location, and we don’t have to live in L.A. There’s no reason we can’t figure this out. People love you, and they love us together. Without you, I’m boring as hell—and nobody wants to watch that. Together, we’re great. We’ll do the show together, start our own product line, cowrite books together, whatever you want. As long as we’re together, it’ll be magic. We’ll be a team, and it’ll be perfect. Just say yes.”

  “It does sound like fun, and we are great together.” She nudged him with her hip, smiling as the idea took hold. They did have incredible chemistry on camera, and with Michael by her side, everything was more fun. Building a brand together would be amazing.

  “Wait, what about the blonde?” she blurted.

  “What blonde?” Confusion clouded his eyes for a second until understanding replaced it. “You can’t mean Kaitlin, can you? How do you know about her?”

  “Who is she?” Not ready to admit the truth, she pressed the issue.

  “She’s a model, or actress, or model-slash-actress, whatever. The network won’t hire her if you agree to come on board. They want you.”