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Also just like him, she thought. “What kind of cake?”
    “A good one.”
    “That’s the only kind I make. Give me a clue here. How many people?”
    “Maybe twenty.”
    “Sheet or layered?”
    He sent her a pleading look. “Help me, Laurel. You know Dara. Just whatever you figure.”
    “Is she allergic to anything?”
    “No. I don’t think.” He topped off her coffee an instant before she thought to do so herself. “It doesn’t have to be spectacular. Just a nice cake for an office deal. I could go to the market and pick one up but... that’s what I’d get,” he said, pointing at the scowl on her face. “I can pick it up Wednesday after work if you can squeeze it in.”
    “I’ll squeeze it in because I like Dara.”
    “Thanks.” He reached over to give her hand a pat. “Gotta run. I’ll pick up that paperwork Wednesday,” he told Parker. “Let me know about the other stuff when you figure it out.”
    He stood, then walked to Mrs. G. “Thanks.”
    He gave her a quick, casual kiss on the cheek first. Then came the hug, and it was the hug that always made Laurel’s heart mush. Serious grip, cheek to the hair, eyes closed, just a little sway. Del’s hugs mattered, she thought, and made him impossible to resist.
    “Pretend to behave yourself,” Mrs. Grady ordered.
    “That I can do. See you.” He gave a wave to the rest of the group, then went out the back.
    “I’d better get moving, too. Mrs. G,”Jack said, “you are the goddess of the kitchen. The empress of epicure.”
    She gave her big laugh at that. “Go to work.”
    “Going.”
    “I’d better get started, too. I’ll walk out with you,” Emma said.
    “Actually, I’ve got something I’d like your take on,” Laurel said to Emma before she could rise.
    “Then I get to have more coffee.” She shifted to fuss with the knot of Jack’s tie, then tugged it until their lips met. “Bye.”
    “See you tonight. I’ll drop those revised plans by, Parker.”
    “Anytime.”
    “Should I get out of the way?” Carter asked when Jack left.
    “You’re allowed to stay, and even comment.” Laurel scooted out for her sketchbook. “I had a brainstorm last night, so I worked up an idea for the wedding cake.”
    “My cake? Our cake,” Mac corrected quickly with a grin for Carter. “I wanna see, I wanna see!”
    “Presentation,” Laurel said sternly, “is a watchword of Icing at Vows. So, while the inspiration for this design primarily stems from the bride—”
    “Me!”
    “It also factors in what the designer sees as qualities that attract the groom to said bride, and vice versa. So we have, I think, a blending of the traditional and nontraditional in both form and flavor. Added to this, the designer has known the bride for more than two decades, and has developed a deep and sincere attachment to the groom—all of which play into the concept—but will ensure that any critiques of said concept will be gracefully accepted.”
    “That’s bull.” Parker rolled her eyes. “You’ll be pissed off if she doesn’t like it.”
    “That’s only true because if she doesn’t like it, she’s an idiot. Which means I’ve been friends with an idiot for over two decades.”
    “Just let me see the damn design.”
    “I can adjust the size once you’ve nailed down your guest list. The current concept’s good for two hundred.” Laurel flipped open the book, held up the sketch.
    She didn’t have to hear Mac’s breath catch to know. She saw it in the stunned delight on her face.
    “The colors are pretty true to what I’d do, and you can see I’d want to do a variety of cakes and fillings. Your Italian cream, and the chocolate with raspberry Carter favors, the yellow, maybe with pastry cream. It’s just one way to do your cake sampler fantasy.”
    “If Mac doesn’t like it, I’ll take it,” Emma announced.
    “It doesn’t suit you. It’s Mac’s if she wants it. The flowers can be changed,” Laurel added, “to whatever ones you