Savor the Moment(ISBN=) 英文原版

　　Wedding cake baker Laurel McBane appreciates a strong,
intelligent man–a man just like Parker’s older brother, Delaney.
But Del is out of her reach and too protective of Laurel to ever
cross the line with her, or so she thinks. After a mind-blowing
kiss, Laurel will have to quiet the doubts in her mind to turn a
moment of passion into forever.

　　Chapter One
　　Alone, with Norah Jones whispering through the iPod, Laurel
transformed a panel of fondant into a swatch of elegant, edible
lace. She didn’t hear the music, used it more to fill the air than
as entertainment while she painstakingly pieced the completed panel
onto the second tier of four.
　　She stepped back to eye the results, to circle, to search for
flaws. Vows’ clients expected perfect, and that’s exactly what she
intended to deliver. Satisfied, she nodded, and picked up a bottle
of water to sip while she stretched her back.
　　“Two down, two to go.”
　　She glanced toward the board where she’d pinned various samples
of antique lace, and the final sketched design for the cake Friday
evening’s bride had approved.
　　She had three more designs to complete: two for Saturday, one for
Sunday—but that was nothing new. June at Vows, the weddinga nd
event business she ran with her friends, was prime time.
　　In a handful of years, they’d turned an idea into a thriving
enterprise. Sometimes just a little too thriving, she mused, which
was why she was making fondant lace at nearly one in the
morning.
　　It was a very good thing, she decided. She loved the work.
　　They all had their passions. Emma had the flowers, Mac the
photography, Parker the details. And she had the cakes. And the
pastries, she thought, and the chocolates. But the cakes stood as
the crowning touch.
　　She got back to it, began to roll out the next panel. Following
habit, she’d clipped her sunny blond hair up and back out of her
way. Cornstarch dusted the baker’s apron she wore over cotton pants
and tee, and the slide-on kitchen shoes kept her feet as
comfortable as possible after hours of standing. Her hands, strong
from years of kneading, rolling, lifting, were capable and quick.
As she began the next pattern, her sharp-featured, angular face set
in serious lines.
　　Perfection wasn’t simply a goal when it came to her art. For
Icing at Vows it was a necessity. The wedding cake was more than
baking and piping, sugar paste and filling. Just as the wedding
photos Mac took were more than pictures, and the arrangements and
bouquets Emma created more than flowers. The details and schedules
and wishes Parker put together were, in the end, bigger than the
sum of their parts.
　　Together, the elements became a once-in-a-lifetime event, and the
celebration of the journey two people chose to make together.
　　Romantic, certainly, and Laurel believed in romance. In theory,
anyway. More, she believed in symbols and celebrations. And in a
really fabulous cake.
　　Her expression softened into pleasure as she completed the third
tier, and her deep blue eyes warmed as she glanced over to see
Parker hovering in the doorway.
　　“Why aren’t you in bed?”
　　“Details.” Parker circled a finger over her own head. “Couldn’t
settle. How long have you been at this tonight?”
　　“Awhile. I need to finish it so it can set overnight. Plus I have
the two Saturday cakes to assemble and decorate tomorrow.”
　　“Want company?”
　　They knew each other well enough that it was understood if Laurel
said no, there’d be no off ense. And often, when deep in work, no
was the answer.
　　“Sure.”
　　“I love the design.” Parker, as Laurel had, circled the cake.
“The delicacy of the white on white, the interest of the diff erent
heights of each tier—and the intricacy of each. They really do look
like different panels of lace. Old-fashioned, vintage, that’s our
bride’s theme. You’ve nailed it with this.”
　　“We’re going to do pale blue ribbon around the pedestal,” Laurel
said as she started on the next panel. “And Emma’s going to scatter
white rose petals at the base. It’s going to be a winner.”
　　“The bride’s been good to work with.”
　　Comfortable in her pajamas, her long brown hair loose rather than
in its work mode of sleek tail or smooth chignon, Parker put on the
kettle for tea. One of the perks of running the business out of her
home, and of having Laurel living there—with Emma and Parker right
on the estate as well—were these late-night visits.
　　“She knows her mind,” Laurel commented, choosing a tool to
scallop the edges of the panel. “But she’s open to suggestion, and
so far hasn’t been insane. If she makes it through the next
twenty-four that way, she’ll definitely earn Vows’ coveted Good
Bride status.”
　　“They looked happy and relaxed tonight at rehearsal, and that’s a
good sign.”
　　“Mmm-hmm.” Laurel continued the pattern with precisely placed
eyelets and dots. “So, again, why aren’t you in bed?”
　　Parker sighed as she heated a little teapot. “I think I was
having a moment. I was unwinding with a glass of wine out on my
terrace. I could see Mac’s place, and Emma’s. The lights were on in
both houses, and I could smell the gardens. It was so quiet, so
pretty. The lights went off —Emma’s first, and a little while
after, Mac’s. I thought how we’re planning Mac’s wedding, and that
Emma just got engaged. And all the times we played Wedding Day, the
four of us, when we were kids. Now it’s real. I sat there in the
quiet and the dark, and found myself wishing my parents could be
here to see it. To see what we’ve done here, and who we are now. I
got stuck.” She paused to measure out tea. “Between being sad
they’re gone and being happy because I know they’d be proud of me.
Of us.”
　　“I think about them a lot. We all do.” Laurel continued to work.
“Because they were such an essential part of our lives, and because
there are so many memories of them here. So I know what you mean by
being stuck.”
　　“They’d get a kick out of Mac and Carter, out of Emma and Jack,
wouldn’t they?”
　　“Yeah, they would. And what we’ve done here, Parker? It rocks.
They’d get a kick out of that, too.”
　　“I’m lucky you were up working.” Parker poured hot water into the
pot. “You’ve settled me down.”
　　“Here to serve. I’ll tell you who else is lucky, and that’s
Friday’s bride. Because this cake?” She blew stray hair out of her
eyes as she nodded smugly. “It kicks major ass. And when I do the
crown, angels will weep with joy.”
　　Parker set the pot aside to steep. “Really, Laurel, you need to
take more pride in your work.”
　　Laurel grinned. “Screw the tea. I’m nearly done here. Pour me a
glass of wine.”
　　In the morning, after a solid six hours’ sleep, Laurel got in a
quick session at the gym before dressing for the workday. She’d be
chained in her kitchen for the bulk of it, but before that routine
began, there was the summit meeting that prefaced every
event.
　　Laurel dashed downstairs from her third-floor wing to the main
level of the sprawling house, and back to the family kitchen where
Mrs. Grady was putting a fruit platter together.
　　“Morning, Mrs. G.”
　　Mrs. Grady arched her eyebrows. “You look feisty.”
　　“Feel feisty. Feel righteous.” Laurel fisted both hands, flexed
her muscles. “Want coff ee. Much.”
　　“Parker’s taken the coff ee up already. You can take this fruit,
and the pastries. Eat some of that fruit. A day shouldn’t start
with a Danish.”
　　“Yes, ma’am. Anyone else here yet?”
　　“Not yet, but I saw Jack’s truck leave a bit ago, and I expect
Carter will be along giving me the puppy eyes in hopes of a decent
breakfast.”
　　“I’ll get out of the way.” Laurel grabbed the platters, balancing
them with the expertise of the waitress she’d been once upon a
time.
　　She carried them up to the library, which now served as Vows’
conference room. Parker sat at the big table, with the coff ee
service on the breakfront. Her BlackBerry, as always, remained at
easy reach. The sleek ponytail left her face unframed, and the
crisp white shirt transmitted business mode as she sipped coff ee
and studied data on her laptop with midnight blue eyes Laurel knew
missed nothing.
　　“Provisions,” Laurel announced. She set the trays down, then
tucked her chin-length swing of hair behind her ears before she
obeyed Mrs. Grady and fixed herself a little bowl of berries.
“Missed you in the gym this morning. What time did you get
up?”
　　“Six, which was a good thing, since Saturday afternoon’s bride
called just after seven. Her father tripped over the cat and may
have broken his nose.”
　　“Uh-oh.”
　　“She’s worried about him, but nearly equally worried about how
he’s going to look for the wedding, and in the photographs. I’m
going to call the makeup artist to see what she thinks can be
done.”
　　“Sorry about the FOB’s bad luck, but if that’s the biggest
problem this weekend, we’re in good shape.”
　　Parker shot out a finger. “Don’t jinx it.”
　　Mac strolled in, long and lean in jeans and a black T-shirt.
“Hello, pals of mine.”
　　Laurel squinted at her friend’s easy smile and slumberous green
eyes. “You had morning sex.”
　　“I had stupendous morning sex, thank you.” Mac poured herself
coff ee, grabbed a muffin. “And you?”
　　“Bitch.”
　　With a laugh, Mac dropped down in her chair, stretched out her
legs. “I’l…