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Authors: Michele Dunaway

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BOOK: The Marriage Recipe
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“Libby loved the cupcakes. Thank you. They were a big hit with her classmates.” Colin followed her and hovered nearby.

Rachel yawned. “Good. So it's afternoon already?”

“A little after one,” Colin replied. He sat on a chair perpendicular to the sofa she was on. “Kim told me you weren't feeling well so I decided to check on you.”

“I'm fine, really. Just tired,” Rachel admitted. “I've been going at top speed since mid-February and my body is starting to rebel. It doesn't want to bake all the Easter cakes I've got to make this week. Says it wants time off.”

“You have to take better care of yourself,” Colin said, sincerity evident. He removed his coat and laid it over the arm of the chair.

“I'm trying,” Rachel said. She stretched her neck and then paused as she realized that Colin had shown up on her doorstep. “Don't worry about me. I took my temperature and I don't have a fever. And no sniffles. No congestion. Simple fatigue. I'm going to start taking vitamin supplements tonight. My mother said she'd pick some up on the way home.”

“I could run out and get them for you,” he offered. “What do you need?”

She curled her feet closer to her. “That's sweet, but a few hours won't make a difference. Like I said, I've just worn myself down. You can only go so far before stress catches up with you.”

“True,” Colin agreed. “Which means that from here on out, you must relax more. As your lawyer and your friend, I insist on it.”

She studied him. She was about to ask,
And what will you do if I don't?
but the question died on her tongue. She'd never seen such intense concern before—at least, not directed toward her. “Okay,” she said, caving in.

“You're not going to fight me on this?” He seemed surprised, and for the first time she noticed his green tie.

The corners of her lips inched upward. “No. Even I'm not that radical. I know when to fold my hand. This is my health. Exhausting myself sabotages my goal of starting my business and getting back to New York.”

“Exactly,” Colin agreed, although he appeared uncomfortable with the latter part of her assertion. “If you're sick, who will bake all the cakes for Easter? I'd help, but you remember how useful I was last night.”

She smiled at this. “You managed to sift the flour. I'm sure that with some training you could be tolerable in the kitchen. Even top chefs have had to start somewhere.” She laughed as he made a sour face at her and stuck out his tongue.

He leaned forward. “Are you hungry? I might not be a cook, but I can at least find things in the kitchen, especially if you want something. Have you eaten anything?”

“Not since early this morning. I came home and fell asleep,” Rachel admitted.

“You need to eat. What can I get you?” Colin stood. “No excuses. I'm already on my feet.”

Colin's sincerity was sweet and she gave in. His concern was touching. He shed his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt. “There's some leftover broccoli-cheese soup in the refrigerator. Second shelf. You just have to reheat it. About one minute on high.”

“One thing you should learn about me is that I'm the king of the microwave. I can warm up anything. Be right back.”

He was gone about five minutes, and Rachel used the time to close her eyes and simply rest. She hadn't realized until this morning how physically deflated she was. She'd had to drag herself out of bed to finish Libby's cupcakes. She hadn't minded the work, but she'd found herself unmotivated. As if she needed a vacation from her vacation. Not that moving back to Morrisville had been a picnic. Hardly. If anything, the man now out of sight in the kitchen had compounded her stress.

One thing was for certain. If nothing else, Colin's reappearance in her life had opened her eyes to the fact that she'd deluded herself about Marco. She'd escaped to New York, only to trap herself in a false dream.

Now, Colin…The man oozed excitement. Just seeing him on her doorstep had sent a thrill through her. He'd come because he cared, not because her being AWOL from work had caused him any type of distress. Marco worried only about the appearance of the person. Colin worried about the person.

Which was probably a good thing, Rachel thought ruefully as she touched the top of her head. Her hair was a bird's nest of tangles. She didn't have any makeup on. She hadn't brushed her teeth since this morning. She surely reeked of both cupcakes and simmering cabbage—not a pleasant combination.

But Colin didn't seem to mind. There he was, dressed in pants she knew had cost a pretty penny, carrying a tray of steaming-hot soup. “I found some crackers in the pantry and brought you a glass of orange juice. That's supposed to help, isn't it? I remember my mother always forcing me to drink at least a gallon when I was younger and she believed I was catching some deadly virus.”

“OJ has vitamin C in it,” Rachel said as Colin set down the tray. He'd even added a small vase and a flower, which she knew he'd lifted from the center of the kitchen table.

He glanced at the adornment and he chuckled. “Well, every commercial on television shows some sort of foliage. This was the easiest thing.”

“It's a thoughtful touch,” Rachel said, for there were no other words to describe his sincere gesture. He'd just risen in her estimation a thousandfold. She sighed and exhaled on her soupspoon to cool the contents. This change in Colin was wonderful. Yet this moment would make leaving him all the harder. Despite herself, she could easily fall in love with Colin. She'd cared for him all her life, but the man he'd become made him even more endearing. The grown-up Colin Morris was everything she ever could have hoped for in a mate.

And everything she'd walked away from when she'd fled Morrisville after high school. The bitter irony assailed her, proving perhaps she'd been a lot more foolish than she cared to admit. She busied herself with eating the soup and encouraged Colin to tell her the entire story of Libby's lunch. Anything to keep her mind off the truth she'd just realized.

“So was Elmer already in his spot when you went by the diner?” she asked. “He and Harold have been sitting next to each other at the counter for years, and my mom told me that on St. Patrick's Day they show up at dawn and don't leave until the last person clears out. She says they eat and argue all day. Not that they don't see each other all the time, but for some reason today's different. And the diner doesn't even serve alcohol!”

“I didn't notice,” Colin revealed. “I was more worried about you and being on time to Libby's event. My mom was Maggie's guest and she got one of your cupcakes. Said it was delicious.”

“I'm glad the lunch went well.” The hall clock chimed two. Had he really been here almost an hour? “You're missing work! I'm going to get you in trouble!”

He laughed and shook his head. “My tardiness won't matter. Today everyone's Irish and taking an extended lunch. We'll all be pious again by Friday.”

“Seems so weird when St. Patrick's Day and Good Friday are in the same week. Start with a party, end with Stations of the Cross. Church—that's where my mother will be. Even Kim will join her for evening service.”

Colin leaned forward as if to hear her better. “Not you?”

She shrugged. “I may go this year, if only to please them. Going to church hasn't been on my to-do list. Marco and I didn't attend except to get the church scheduled for the wedding. But I've agreed to go with them on Easter Sunday. We'll do that, and then have brunch at your parents'. Tradition, you know.”

He rose and reached for the tray “I know. I haven't missed going to church or brunch once in thirty-one years.”

“You
are
thirty-one,” Rachel pointed out.

He stood there with a grin. “Exactly. I'm sure I was there in the womb, too. Funny, how time passes and some things stay the same.”

“Okay, we're not exactly old, but today I feel it, so be careful. I'll be thirty—”

“April fifteenth,” Colin finished for her. “I think of you every tax day. It makes your birthday easy to remember.”

“Yay,” Rachel quipped sarcastically. “I'm sure most people don't associate my aging with anything pleasant.”

“Well, I do. I usually get a refund. I file early and feel sorry for those who wait until the last minute.” He shifted his weight, balancing the tray.

“That's usually me,” Rachel acknowledged. “I hate doing taxes.”

“Now, how did I know that?” He smiled again, making himself even more charming than usual. “I'm going to get out of your hair, let you get some much-needed rest. Let me put this stuff in the kitchen.”

“Thanks. Just leave everything on the counter by the sink. I'll either get it or someone will. You've already done enough. I'll clean up.”

“If you're sure. I'm pretty good at loading a dishwasher.”

“I'm positive,” Rachel said, watching as Colin left the room. Then she stretched out her feet and wiggled her toes. She'd worn green nail polish in honor of the holiday. Polish on her toenails was a silly little thing, but since a cook had to stand in sensible, closed-toe shoes during her shift, Rachel had long ago taken to wearing funky-colored nail polish as her little secret. She tucked her feet back under the afghan as Colin returned.

“I'll catch up with you tomorrow,” he said. “I'm having dinner with Bruce at the country club. He and Christina are back in town and he's free tonight. I hardly see him now that he's married and a stepfather, so we're going to hang out.”

Rachel nodded. “Tell him I said hi. Tell him I'm going to be busy all week. I have orders for over twenty-five coconut cakes, including one for your mother's brunch. That's thirty coconuts I have to drain.”

He frowned. “You don't use the packaged stuff?”

She made a face. “Absolutely not, and you'll taste why Sunday.”

Colin shrugged into his suit coat. “Okay. After those cupcakes I have no doubt you're an expert. So is Bruce, so I'm going to pick his brain on your case a little, find out what he thinks.”

“If you think that's necessary,” Rachel said. “I'm certain you've got a pretty good handle on it.”

He seemed pleased by her compliment. “Thanks. I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

“I only hire the best,” Rachel said, her words causing a wry smile to split Colin's face.

“As do I. Those cupcakes were the prize item. I'll talk to you tomorrow. And don't work yourself up too much over those cakes. You're not in this alone. I'm sure you could recruit any help you need. We're all here for you.” He buttoned his overcoat.

She nodded. “I'm starting to realize that and it's a bit overwhelming. Now, go. Goodness knows if my mother and grandmother find you here, there will be fifty million questions for me to answer. I'm trying to destress, not go deeper into distress.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Colin mock saluted and soon Rachel heard the door shut behind him. She leaned back against the sofa. He'd spent part of his afternoon with her. He'd cooked her soup—okay, reheated it, but still. His kindness spoke volumes. He hadn't tried to kiss her. He'd done nothing but simply
be
with her and keep her company.

She'd liked it.

A lot.

 

C
OLIN STAYED BUSY
with work until he met Bruce at the Morrisville Country Club. His friend was already in the bar, nursing the only drink he'd have all evening, a fine Scotch served on the rocks.

“Think I'll join you in having one of those,” Colin said, gesturing to the bartender.

“If you're only going to drink one, might as well make it the best,” Bruce agreed.

“Rachel was saying something along those lines today,” Colin said, taking a seat on the leather-backed bar stool. He'd checked his coat.

“How is Rachel? You mentioned you're doing some legal work for her.”

“I am.” Colin had just enough time to apprise Bruce of the situation before the hostess arrived to tell them their table was ready. The bartender returned with Colin's drink, and he held it aloft as he and Bruce made their way into the main dining room.

“If you were in my shoes, what might you do about Rachel's case? Have any thoughts or suggestions?” Colin asked, setting his menu aside. He knew the contents by heart, and tonight's special, no surprise, was corned beef, cabbage, new potatoes and Irish soda bread.

“There are a few intellectual-property cases that set legal precedent.” Colin took a sip of his Scotch whiskey as Bruce began to recall some current case law. Bruce's mind could remember even the smallest details, and by the time their entrées arrived, Colin had an idea for dealing with Marco and his attorneys.

“So how are you and Rachel doing otherwise?” Bruce asked casually.

“What do you mean?” Colin asked, feigning indifference. He knew exactly what information his friend was digging for, but it was somewhere in the guy code that he pretend otherwise.

BOOK: The Marriage Recipe
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ads

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