by Sugar
Sugar and Spice
by Lynnette Kent
Dr. Ian Baker is a man dedicated to his work and his patients. He recently moved to New Skye, North Carolina, because he knew he was needed in the small town. But with Thanksgiving fast approaching, and his family scheduled to arrive for a holiday visit, he realizes he needs a life outside the hospital — if only to convince his relatives that leaving Atlanta was not a huge mistake. That's where Cassandra Stuart comes in.
Cass is used to running things. She runs her own successful catering business in the day, but her take-charge attitude could be the reason she still spends her nights alone. What she needs is a man who needs her. And Dr. Baker definitely needs her — to make Thanksgiving dinner and turn his house into a home before his family arrives. Will he realize what's really missing in his life is Cass?
Chapter One: Page One
Ian Baker heaved a sigh of relief as the garage door closed behind him. He'd written today's date a hundred times during the past fifteen hours, yet hadn't realized the significance until he drove home from work to find the streets of his neighborhood crowded with Hobbits, Star Wars storm troopers, and Powerpuff girls, firefighters and Special Forces soldiers. Halloween, of course. His newly adopted community — New Skye, North Carolina — appeared to celebrate the holiday with great enthusiasm.
The front doorbell rang as he came into the kitchen, then rang again. Ian jogged to the entry hall, fished his keys out of his pocket, and turned the big brass lock.
On the porch, upward of ten little goblins stared hopefully at him. "Trick or treat!" A contingent of adults stood on his front lawn, just outside the circle of light.
Ian wiped his hand over his face. "Uh…I…" He didn't have any candy in the house. No apples or oranges. Handfuls of cereal wouldn't cut it. What the heck could he give these kids?
He held up a hand. "Wait just a second." Back in the kitchen, he surveyed his pantry. A box of Grape Nuts, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter. There was jam in the fridge, but he doubted PBJs would go over well.
The light shining in the laundry room caught his eye. He'd left it on this morning when he was searching for matching socks in the dryer. And on top of the dryer… That's it!
At the front door again, he crouched to kid level and held out the gallon pickle jar in which he saved the change from his pockets.
"One fistful apiece, okay?"
"All right!" They lined up efficiently to take their turns at the jar. "Thanks, mister."
"This is cool!"
"Awesome!"
His impromptu treat appeared to do the trick.
Wincing at his own stupid pun, Ian straightened to watch the kids flee across the grass to his neighbor's porch, followed by their adult bodyguards. Then he turned to go inside to prepare his nightly gourmet dinner — a couple of PBJs and a glass of milk. What the menu lacked in variety, it made up in predictability.
"Dr. Baker?"
Hearing a woman's voice, he swung back around, automatically offering the jar. "Did I miss somebody?"
She stepped out of the darkness and onto the porch. "Not at all. And I'm betting the handout at Dr. Baker's house will be the talk of New Skye Elementary School tomorrow morning. But you and I have an appointment." Her smile was wide and bright as she offered a handshake. "Cass Stuart. Sugar and Spice, Incorporated."
Chapter One: Page Two
Ian stared at her, his mind a total blank. "I'm sorry, it's been a really long day." Belatedly, he closed his palm against her warm one. "Come on in, please."
He led her through the dark family room to the adjoining kitchen, where there was light, a table, and chairs. "Have a seat." Setting the pickle jar on the table, he crossed his arms and leaned his hips back against the counter to take some of the weight off his tired feet. "Now, Ms. Stuart, I hate to admit it, but I don't have a clue as to why you're here. What are we meeting about?"
"Food."
"Food." Ian scoured his brain. "Dinner?" Yes, he worked hard. Some nights he got home so tired he could hardly spell his own name correctly. But surely he would remember having asked this very attractive woman for a date.
She nodded, her big brown eyes sparkling with laughter. "Thanksgiving dinner."
"Thanksgiv —" He snapped his fingers as the pieces clicked into place. "Right. I remember — I asked my office manager to find somebody to make dinner for my family."
"And she called me. Sugar and Spice is a catering firm." She definitely fit the description, with her shiny, cinnamon brown hair, cinnamon sugar freckles sprinkled over her creamy skin, and those deep chocolate brown eyes. "I'm here to discuss the menu with you." She'd pulled her hair back from her face with an orange velvet band and wore black cats dangling from her earlobes.
The touch of whimsy made him realize he hadn't thought about how much fun Halloween could be for…fifteen years? Twenty? "That's great." He heard his stomach growl and, from the quirk of Cass Stuart's full lips, knew she'd heard, too. "Would you mind if I made a sandwich? I haven't eaten since…" The memory escaped him and he shrugged. "Whenever."
She opened her hands in a generous gesture. "Be my guest. But since I'm in the business of feeding people, I'd be glad to make a sandwich for you, if you'd like."
He turned from the pantry with bread and peanut butter in his arms. "No, that's…" Then again, the idea of someone else making him a simple meal seemed close to heaven. "Will you join me? If you get the sandwiches, I could change clothes."
"Sounds like a plan." She came to the counter as he set down the supplies. "I'll find what I need. Come back in ten minutes."
"Right."
Cass watched the gorgeous Dr. Baker disappear into the shadows beyond the kitchen. Rita, his new office manager and Cass's best friend since high school, had warned her. Now, she believed — believed in the broad, rangy shoulders, the athletic build, the curly blond hair cut close to his beautifully shaped head. And the deep-set blue eyes, looking warily out on the world as if he hoped for friendship but didn't expect it.
The house was nearly as magnificent as the man. As a kitchen aficionado, Cass definitely approved of the granite countertops and professional-grade appliances, although she wasn't sure the room had ever been used for meaningful cooking. A peek inside the spotless double ovens pretty much confirmed that guess.
She put together four neat peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, moved the pickle jar to the counter and set the glass-topped table with plates and two glasses of milk. Then, since Dr. Baker hadn't yet reappeared, she turned on the one lamp in the family room. Twice as large as the huge kitchen, this space offered a fireplace framed in black marble surrounded by exquisite paneling and built-in bookcases. Two long brown leather couches faced each other across the hearth, complemented by two tapestry armchairs and the lamp table between them.
Otherwise, the room was empty. No curtains or drapes, no pictures on the walls, no rugs on the floor. Not a single accessory, not even a poker with which to stir a fire, should one ever be lit in that pristine space. Altogether, Dr. Baker's house looked like a cold, heartless place.
Chapter One: Page Three
Cass was still standing in the center of the room when Dr. Baker returned. He stopped short by the fireplace wall. "Something wrong?"
"Not at all. Let's eat." They sat at the table and spent a couple of silent moments inhaling their food. Finally, Cass sighed. "This is good. I haven't had a bite since dawn."
He raised a straight blond eyebrow. "A caterer doesn't get to eat?"
"Too busy cooking." She reached into her purse for her notebook. "Now, do you have an idea of what kind of food you'd like for Thanksgiving dinner?"
; "Just the usual — turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, rolls, vegetables, pies. Cranberry sauce. My mother likes cranberry sauce."
Making notes, she shook her head. "You don't really need a caterer for this. Every grocery store will have all these dishes prepared and available the day before."
"Yeah, I know." He put a hand on the back of his neck and rolled his head, obviously trying to loosen kinks. "But, see, this is a big deal. I just moved to New Skye to start my CT surgery practice."
"CT?"
"Cardiothoracic — heart surgery. Coronary artery bypasses, that kind of work. Anyway, my whole family wants to drive over from Atlanta and celebrate the holiday. They weren't happy about my coming here, so my plan is to demonstrate that I'm doing fine and they don't need to worry anymore. I'd like everything to be really special, including the food. That's where you come in."
"I understand." Cass added a couple of notes to her list. "But I have to tell you, Dr. Baker —"
"Ian." He finished the last of his milk and looked at her with an endearing white mustache above his firm — and very kissable — mouth. "Call me Ian."
Cass repressed her smile. "I have to tell you, Ian, that your grand plan doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of working out."
Chapter Two: Page One
"'A snowball's chance in hell'? What are you talking about?" Frowning, Ian wiped away his milk mustache with the paper towel Cass had provided as a napkin. "What's wrong with my plan?"
She braced her elbows on the table and shrugged, trying to keep her attention on the subject at hand, rather than on that well-shaped mouth. "You can hire me or any other caterer in town to prepare a terrific Thanksgiving dinner. But you don't have a place for your family to stay."
"Of course, I do — five thousand square feet of house, including four bedrooms, besides mine, and six extra baths. What more do I need?" He'd changed out of his surgical scrubs into a dark blue, long-sleeved T-shirt over soft, comfortable jeans, and socks, but no shoes. Something about the white socks, and those strong shoulders under blue cotton, made thinking a challenge.
Cass pushed back from the table and walked into the family room. With a safe distance between them, she turned to face him, holding out her arms. "Does this look like a home to you? Does this resemble the house where you grew up?"
Ian glanced around, his brows drawn together in concentration. "Well, my mother has more furniture. And lots of…of stuff."
"Don't you think she'll expect something like that here?"
He shook his head. "Nope. No way. I had to do the dusting when I was a kid. Spent my Saturday mornings wiping off little china dogs and monkeys and fancy boxes and painted plates on tiny stands when I wanted to be out playing ball. I'm not having that clutter in my house."
Given such a pitiful portrait, Cass held up her hands in surrender. "But there's middle ground between bare and unbearable. Your family — which means who, by the way?"
"Mother, Dad, sister and husband, brother and wife and two kids."
She widened her eyes. "That's a boatload of family, all right. And they won't be comfortable if you don't offer more than just the essentials in furniture. You need chairs, tables, lamps, a television for the kids…."
"You sound as if I've got time to do that kind of shopping." He rolled his shoulders, then rubbed the back of his neck again. "I was in surgery at six this morning. Even if I knew what to look for, I can't possibly make time for wandering around town to find it."
"How long have you lived in this house?" Cass clenched her fists against the urge to massage his neck and shoulders, get out those kinks that were driving him crazy.
"Six months."
"And all you've done is work?"
"That's why I'm here. CT surgeons are plentiful in Atlanta. There was only one overworked guy in New Skye. I came where the patients needed me."
"So now there are two overworked guys." Cass smiled and stepped close enough to put her hand on his arm. "I'll be glad to prepare a dinner your family can enjoy together. But I really do think you need to soften the house if they're going to be comfortable. And, more important, if they're going to believe you are."
After a silent minute, he nodded decisively. "Okay. You do it."
Chapter Two: Page Two
To Ian's immense regret, Cass stepped back again, dropping her hand from his arm. "I beg your pardon?"
He persevered. "I'll pay you whatever you ask to make the place look like it should."
Those deep brown eyes had gone round with surprise. "I'm not a decorator."
"I don't want a decorator." This was the right plan. And the right woman to carry it out. He wasn't sure how he knew that. But he did. "I want somebody who understands my aversion to clutter and somebody who understands what needs to be here so my family will stop bugging me about coming back to Atlanta."
Her gaze focused, intensified. "You don't want to go back?"
"I went to college at Georgia Tech and med school at Emory, in Atlanta. Did my training there, as well, but I never knew how tied down I was until I finally came up for air and realized I'd never left home." He shook his head. "I was thirty-three and still a little kid. I decided it was time to grow up."
Cass gazed up at him, and he didn't look away, didn't try to avoid the frank interest in her face. He'd never said any of that to a woman. Somehow, though, he knew he could trust Cass Stuart with his confession.
She took a deep breath. "Well, then, I'll see what I can do about the house. Is there a color you especially hate?"
He thought for a second. "Pink. In any form."
"Your mother likes pink?"
"Loves it."
She laughed, and he loved the sound of it in his house. "No pink. Do you want to show me what I'm up against?"
"Right this way." He led her upstairs and turned on the lights in the guest bedrooms. Each room had a bed, an armchair, and a chest of drawers or a dresser and mirror. The armchairs were identical, upholstered in a green damask he'd seen on a sample at the furniture store, and the four beige bedspreads were all the same, because he'd liked the heavy cotton fabric. Off-white blinds hung at the windows, matching the off-white paint on the walls. The off-white baths were supplied with green towels.
Cass stood in the last room and shook her head. "Dr. Baker, you are seriously color-challenged."
He considered that he'd done pretty well. "I had one free day before I started work. This was all I could manage."
"Now we've got four weeks. Place yourself in my capable hands and I guarantee the results will be breathtaking."
Ian couldn't help the interpretation his mind chose to put on those words. "Sounds good. I'm game."
The woman across the room looked puzzled, and then horrified. "That's not what I meant!"
Chapter Two: Page Three
"Unfortunately, I know that." He grinned and turned the light off to give her time to recover. Starting down the stairs, he glanced up as she came to the top step. "Do you want to have your way in my bedroom, too?"
After a second's pause, Cass chuckled. "Of course," she said, in a voice suddenly gone deep and sexy. "What woman wouldn't?"
* * *
A kitten was waiting on her doorstep when she got home from Ian's house — tiny, shivering, all big green eyes and orange stripes. Cass picked the little thing up and warmed it in her arms.
"What are you doing here? Where did you come from?" The baby mewed pitifully. "Is somebody missing you?" Inside her apartment, she wrapped a towel around her houseguest and went to the kitchen for a bowl of milk.
"Pretty stripes." Cass sat on the floor nearby as the cat lapped up the last of her half-and-half. "Like ginger and cream. But I know naming you means you're staying…." She resisted the urge for all of a minute. "I think I'll call you Ginger. I'll be good, though, I promise. I'll put up signs, in case they're looking for you."
Ginger crawled into her lap, made herself comfortable in the folds of Cass's sweater, and began to clean her pa
ws.
"I don't think they were taking very good care of you." When she stroked a finger along those stripes, the ribs underneath were all too obvious. "I'll have to check them out before I let you go back.
"Meantime," she said, settling her shoulders against the oven with Ginger dozing in her arms, "we have to get your shots. The right food. And a litter box. You need to be well trained, as soon as possible.
"Because, Ginger, my dear, there's this doctor I know — a really great guy — who needs just the kind of care you and I have to give."
Chapter Three: Page One
On Monday, Cass got her early morning cooking done, then went to Ian's house and let herself in with the key he had given her. She walked through the rooms alone and tried to imagine coming home every night to such emptiness. How could the man survive like this?