It's a Boy!. Victoria Pade
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Heddy shook her head. “I can’t do that,” she said with the same edge of near-panic that the idea had given her since she’d left pediatric nursing after that awful night that had cost her so dearly. “I can’t even stand the thought of going back to working with kids—of being close to any kids, sick or well. No way.”
“You know the fact that you were a nurse and on duty that night isn’t to blame. And whether or not it’s the way you want it, working that night actually saved you,” Clair said compassionately.
It was the same thing her cousin had said numerous times in the past five years.
“You could go into some other area of nursing—you were so good …”
More fierce head-shaking. “No. Maybe it doesn’t seem logical or reasonable—or even sane—to you, but I can’t go back to doing what I was doing that night. These stupid cheesecakes were my salvation.”
Clair sighed. “Then take the Camden’s offer,” she reiterated as if there was no other advice she could give. “Clark and I will keep an eye on your side to make sure what happened to your mom and your grandfather doesn’t happen to you. If it’s set up the way it was laid out to you, even if the Camdens do bail, what Lang Camden said is right—you can sell to grocery stores or restaurants. That still puts you in a better position than you’re in now.”
That was how Heddy saw it, too. Despite trying to talk herself out of it since Monday when she’d watched the hauntingly handsome Lang Camden leave.
“But there’s still Mom,” Heddy said direly. “I haven’t told her anything about this yet. You know she’ll hit the ceiling.”
“You can’t blame her. But still—”
Heddy and Clair were sitting at one of the tables in the shop—Heddy with her back to the door, Clair facing it—when the shop door opened.
“My second customer of this whole day,” Heddy muttered to her cousin, wondering why Clair’s jaw dropped when she glanced at whoever had just come in.
When Heddy got up to tend to the customer, she saw it was Lang Camden, with Carter in tow again.
“Oh,” Heddy said, understanding her cousin’s expression.
“Hi.” Lang greeted the two women with a smile.
He was dressed in another business suit. This time it was a dark grayish-blue, with a pale blue shirt and matching tie. While Heddy had been tormented by the recurring mental image of the man far, far more than she’d wanted to be since Monday, she was somehow struck all over again by how drop-dead gorgeous he was.
“Hi,” Heddy said after a pause. “Uh … Clair, this is Lang Camden. Mr. Camden, this is my cousin and best friend—and accountant—Clair Darnell.”
“Call me Lang,” he amended. “Nice to meet you, Clair. I hope you’re here in all your capacities to persuade Heddy to do business with me.”
Clair was jolted back into the moment. “We’ve talked,” she said without giving anything away. Then she gathered her purse and a file folder from the table and said to Heddy, “I have to get going, but let me know what you decide. And if you want, I can be there when you tell your mom….”
“Thanks,” Heddy responded as Lang followed his eager little boy companion to the display case and Heddy walked with Clair to the door.
Once they were there, Clair leaned close to Heddy’s ear and whispered, “You didn’t tell me he looked like that! I could leave home for him.”
Heddy laughed softly, as if his good looks didn’t affect her—which was a long way from the truth. Not only was she unable to stop thinking about him, she’d even dreamed about him. Three times in only two nights …
“You wouldn’t leave Clark for anyone,” she whispered back to her cousin.
“Don’t be too sure,” Clair muttered as she peered over Heddy’s shoulder for a second glimpse. “And the kid?”
“I don’t know who he is. He was with him before, too,” Heddy said just as Carter announced loudly that he wanted “burberry” pie.
“You better get over there. Call me,” Clair said, sneaking another look at the man as she left.
“I wan burberry pie,” Carter repeated to Heddy as she went behind the counter to face Lang and the boy.
“I think that means blueberry,” Lang said uncertainly. “Let’s hope so, anyway. Give us a slice of the blueberry white chocolate mousse. And today I’ll have a slice of the plain New Jersey. Is that the basic, traditional, baked variety?”
“It is,” Heddy confirmed, taking out both as-yet-uncut cheesecakes to slice.
“Then will you come and sit with us?”
“Sure,” Heddy agreed, feeling a rush of butterflies to her stomach.
She wasn’t sure if the tension was coming from the fact that she was seriously considering taking the leap and accepting his business proposal, a leap that would not be well received by her family. Or if it was just having Lang Camden in her shop again—tall and lean with that dark, dark hair artfully tousled and that hint of scruffy whiskers on that sharp jawline.
He was as sexy in the flesh as he’d been in those unwelcome dreams she’d had of him.
He got Carter situated at the table nearest to the display case and Heddy brought over the two slices of cheesecake. Then she sat across from them and watched as the little boy, who had on jeans and a crew-necked sweater, grabbed the spoon and scooped up a bite too big for his mouth, opening wide in a feeble attempt to get it all in.
“Gooo,” he mumbled around what he had managed to accommodate.
Lang Camden used his own spoon for a bite of Carter’s cheesecake, confirmed the child’s opinion, then tried his own slice.
He let his eyes roll back into his handsome head and moaned. “And I thought the mousse ones were good! That’s the richest, creamiest … It’s terrific.”
Heddy smiled. “I’m glad.”
“So tell me you’re going to let me sell these,” he said then, without any more preamble.
Heddy didn’t answer him immediately.
She wasn’t sure about her grandfather but she knew that her mother would have a fit if she said yes to going into business with the Camdens in any way.
But talking to Clair had confirmed what Heddy had known herself—this business was failing fast. She had to make a living. And she couldn’t return to nursing to do it. She just couldn’t. So where did that leave her?
“My recipes would have to stay a closely guarded secret,” she said as if in challenge.
But Lang Camden was unruffled by that, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Sure. We want the finished product, everything else is entirely up to you. But I can help you work out a system where you’re the only one who knows the exact ingredients or techniques or whatever it is that you feel will protect your secrets.”
The man exuded strength so the idea that he could provide whatever protection she asked for didn’t seem beyond his capabilities. Of course he was part of a family she worried she needed protection from, but as long as he wasn’t asking to have any knowledge or access to her recipes she felt marginally reassured.
“I don’t have any money I can invest in this, and I can’t—and won’t—borrow or go into debt,” she warned.
“The money will all come as a grant, free and clear.”
“And before I sign anything, my cousin and her husband, who’s a lawyer, will have to see it.”
“I’m glad you have people you can trust on your