So bold. Colorful fall wedding. Square tiers rather than the more traditional round, with the buttercream frosting Mac favored. Tinted.Yes, yes. Dusky gold then covered with fall flowers—she’d make them oversized with wide, detailed petals—in russet and burnt orange, loden.

Color, texture, shape, to appeal to the photographer’s eye, and romantic enough for any bride. Crowned with a bouquet, trailing ribbons in dark gold. Touches of white in some piping, to bring out all the color.

Mac’s Fall, she thought, smiling as she added details. The perfect name for it—for the season, and for the way her friend had tripped into love.

Laurel held the sketch out to arm’s length, then grinned in satisfaction.

“I am damn good. And now I’m hungry.”

She rose to prop the open sketchbook against a lamp. First chance, she decided, she’d show it to Mac for the bride’s opinion. But if she knew Mac—and she did—this was going to get a big, happy woo!

She deserved a snack—maybe a slice of cold pizza if there was any left. Which she’d regret in the morning, she told herself as she started out, but it couldn’t be helped.

She was awake and she was hungry. One of the perks of running your own business and your own life was being able to indulge yourself from time to time.

She moved through the dark and the quiet, guided by her knowledge of the house and the stream of moonlight through the windows. She crossed out of her wing, started down the stairs as she talked herself out of cold pizza and into a healthier choice of fresh fruit and herbal tea.

She needed to be up early to fit in a workout before Monday morning baking.Then she had three couples coming in that afternoon for tastings, so she’d need to prep for that, and get cleaned up.

An evening meeting, full staff, with a client to determine basic details of a winter wedding, then she had the rest of the night free to do what needed to be done—or what suited her fancy.

Thank God she’d initiated a dating moratorium so there was no worry about getting dressed to go out—and what to wear when she did—making conversation, and deciding whether or not she was inclined to have sex.

Life was easier, she thought as she turned at the base of the stairs. It was easier, simpler, and just less fraught when you took dating and sex off the menu.

She rammed straight into a solid object-male-shaped-then tumbled backward. Cursing, she flailed out to save herself. The back of her hand smacked sharply against flesh—causing another curse that wasn’t hers. As she went down, she grabbed a fistful of material. She heard it rip as the male-shaped solid object fell on top of her.