LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Is it going to be that way after you’re married?”

      “My marrying Micah shouldn’t change our bimonthly get-togethers. Don’t forget our mothers still get together with their girlfriends once a month without their husbands.”

      “You’re right, Tessa. Nothing should change that drastically, just because you’re changing your name.”

      “I’m not changing my name to Sanborn.”

      “You plan to keep your maiden name?”

      “No, Faith. I’m going to hyphenate it like Micah’s sister did. She’s now Bridget Sanborn-Cohen, and when I marry Micah I’ll become Theresa Whitfield-Sanborn.”

      “How is baby girl doing?” Faith knew within minutes of meeting Bridget Sanborn for the first time that she’d been spoiled and indulged. And it was obvious that her new husband would continue to indulge her. When Bridget and Seth sampled fillings and conferred with each other about the overall design for their wedding cake, Seth had always deferred to Bridget.

      “Micah said Bridget and Seth are still honeymooning in Tahiti. After two weeks they’re going to Fiji for another week.”

      Faith smiled. “Nice.” Her smile faded. What she would give for a few days in a warm climate. It didn’t have to be the South Pacific. A weekend in the Caribbean, or even South Florida would do quite nicely.

      “Bridget gave me a gift to give to you. I’ll bring it when I come Monday.”

      “She didn’t have to give me anything. After all, I charged her top dollar for the cake and the individual cakes she gave as favors.”

      “She said it’s just a little token for making her day so special given such short notice.”

      Faith smiled again. Tessa had successfully coordinated a formal New Year’s Eve wedding in only ten weeks. “Isn’t that what Signature Bridals do? You’ve established a reputation of performing wedding miracles.”

      “I couldn’t have done it without you and Simone. You know I want you to design my cake.”

      “Have you set a date?”

      “We’ve decided on the last Saturday in June. And of course it will be held at Whitfield Caterers.”

      Faith nodded even though her cousin couldn’t see her. Their fathers were closing their catering business at the end of August to open a bowling alley the following spring. “You know Daddy and Uncle Malcolm have been waiting a long time to host another Whitfield wedding.”

      “Well, they won’t have to wait too long because June is less than six months away. I’m going to let you go because you have a party tonight. I’ll see you Monday.”

      “Monday,” Faith repeated before ending the call. She turned off one of the table lamps.

      Walking over to the alcove, she set the alarm on the radio, undressed and got into bed. She couldn’t believe it. Her cousin was getting married. Tessa, who hadn’t dated in years, had fallen in love and planned to marry the brother of one of her clients. At least one of them had found her prince.

      A groan escaped Faith’s lips as she turned her face into the softness of the pillow. The instant Edith Whitfield found out that another one of her nieces was getting married, Faith was going to have to put up with her mother’s constant haranguing about why couldn’t she find “a nice boy to settle down with.”

      She’d lost count of the number of times she’d informed her mother that she didn’t want a boy but a man. And just because they were male and over eighteen, that didn’t necessarily make them men.

      At thirty, she’d had more than her share of dates and a couple of what she’d considered serious relationships. In fact, she’d kissed so many frogs trying to find her own prince that she was afraid she’d get warts.

      Her dating woes ended the year before when she made a resolution not to date again until she found Mr. Right. She’d tired of the Mr. Right Now or Mr. for the Moment. And if she never found her prince, then she was content to live out her life as an independent single woman.

      All thoughts of princes and marriage faded when she drifted off to sleep.

      Chapter 2

      Faith walked out of her building and came to an abrupt stop when she recognized the man leaning against the bumper of a late-model Lincoln Town Car. Her eyes widened as he straightened and came over to meet her.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked Ethan.

      He flashed his sensual, dimpled smile and reached out to take her arm. “I’ve come to drive you uptown.”

      “Did WJ tell you to pick me up?”

      Ethan steered her over to the car and opened the rear door. Waiting until Faith was seated comfortably on the leather seat, he closed the door and came around to sit behind the wheel. It wasn’t until he left the narrow street and pulled out into traffic that he spoke again.

      “Yes, he did.”

      She stared at the back of his head. “I could’ve just as easily taken a cab.” Faith wondered if Ethan had told WJ about his son’s attempt to kiss her.

      “What happened to ‘thank you’?”

      “Say what?”

      “Isn’t door-to-door car service in Manhattan better than trying to hail a cab at night in the middle of winter?”

      The heat from her blush intensified. Ethan McMillan had just verbally spanked her. “Thank you, Ethan.”

      Ethan schooled his features to stop the grin parting his lips. “You’re welcome, Faith.” He glanced up at the rearview mirror. “Your face looks very nice.”

      She couldn’t stop the blush heating her cheeks. “A little makeup can work miracles.”

      He shook his head. “A miracle cannot improve perfection. I’m sure men have told you that you’re very beautiful.”

      Faith stared out the side window. “Men have told me a lot of things.”

      “Do you believe them?”

      “No.”

      “Why don’t you believe them?” Ethan asked, slowing down and stopping at a red light.

      “Because it’s easier for them to lie than admit the truth.”

      “So, you have trust issues with men?”

      If she’d taken a taxi uptown she wouldn’t be having this conversation with her driver. She didn’t know Ethan McMillan, and she had no intention of spilling her guts to a complete stranger.

      “I’d rather not answer that question.”

      “You don’t have to, Faith. The fact that you don’t want to answer it tells me that you do.” He drove several blocks in silence then asked, “Why did you decide to become a pastry chef?”

      Faith smiled. The conversation had segued to a topic less personal in nature. “After graduating culinary school I worked in a restaurant for two years.”

      “Did you like it?”

      She shook her head. “Even though I liked cooking what I hated was the frenetic pace of cooking for hundreds every night. There was always chaos when a dish didn’t turn out right or when the head chef got in our faces because we weren’t working fast enough. One night I decided I’d had enough. I handed in my resignation and went back to school to specialize in cake decorating. Now I work at my own pace and if I ruin something I can usually salvage it.”

      “If the icing doesn’t come out right, don’t you throw the cake away?”

      “No. I usually remove it and start over.”

      “How

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