Faith grabbed Jenna’s elbow and pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘Yay! Well done! You did it! Come and get some champagne!’

There was blur of cheek kisses and handshakes and another smile for Marnie and her camera. Then someone hustled Jenna back into the store and a glass of fizz was thrust into her hand.

‘The food’s going down well. You’d better make sure you save some for your friend.’ Mrs Singh started putting a selection of cakes onto a paper plate and moved a beer bottle to join it at the end of the counter. ‘Leave them here, I’ll cover them with kitchen roll.’

Sure enough, the cakes were going down a treat, especially with the two wiry-looking lads who’d crept in and were filling their mouths. One of them had a black-and-white-striped beanie and looked as if he was the one in charge, pushing the smaller one forward to get more food. Jenna thought about saying something but then stopped herself. Who knew how desperate they were? Even though they were clearly not her target audience, the food might as well go to a good home; it might be the first cake they’d eaten in a long time.

She watched Anjini add another cupcake to the wobbly pile on the plate. ‘Whoa, Saskia’s not going to manage all that, and she’s not too keen on beer, so I’ll put some—’

Mrs Singh caught her in her piercing radar and gave her a strange look. ‘This isn’t for Saskia. It’s for that boy Nicholas.’

Boy? Boy? Had she even seen him? The man was a god. More than a god. Ex-army. Tall. Built. Chiselled. Tanned. Yes, she’d become a walking, talking romance novel in her thoughts about Nicholas Welsh.

Of which there were, too many. Always at inconvenient times.

And why was everyone suddenly so interested in him? Poor guy. She was starting to feel a bit sorry for him, and glad he wasn’t going to turn up, or he’d be put in a chair with a light shining in his eyes and asked a zillion questions about his intentions. He’d be forced to endure all that just for continuing the vague acquaintance with the girl he was in the band with at high school. ‘He’s not coming.’

‘Yes he is. He’s just going to be late.’ Anjini winked.

‘Thank you for helping out.’ It was always better not to doubt Mrs Singh. She had an uncanny way of knowing things, so changing the subject seemed to be the better approach.

‘Hey! What the hell are you doing?’ Bridget had her grip on the ear of one of the dishevelled boys, the hatless one. His grimy face contorted in pain, but he cuddled a stack of cakes to his chest like a well-loved pet.

He looked round, presumably for his friend who had disappeared out the door, and then, realising he’d been left to take the heat, he shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘And I’m the queen of Sheba. Who said you could take all that lovely food?’

Still clutching, he managed a grimace. ‘Just hungry.’

Having been a victim of that ear grip too many times to count, Jenna grimaced too. Poor kid. ‘Mum, leave him. It’s okay. He can have a bit of food.’

But Bridget wagged a finger at him. ‘Aye, well, if you’re hungry, you steal food, not jewellery. Look, there’s a necklace in his hand underneath all the cakes. Give it to me or I’ll call the police.’

Not again. With Nick starting his police probation, the last thing she wanted was for their name to be known at the local cop station more than it already was. But, as she looked closer at the lad, Jenna saw a silver chain tight around his fist, with the price tag visible and in her handwriting. Damn and blast. She’d only wanted to sell nice things, not deal with delinquents, especially not on her first day. And Marnie was still watching, taking notes. Taking pictures.

Imagining the headlines, Jenna dug deep. ‘Oh, look, just give the necklace back and go. Please. I won’t do anything.’

The kid nodded towards Marnie. ‘What’s she doing with the camera?’

‘Marnie, please don’t report anything about this.’ Jenna manoeuvred herself in front of the boy, blocking Marnie’s eye line to him. ‘He’s just hungry. Please. Don’t.’

‘What’s going on?’ Vaughn stepped back into the shop and looked from Jenna to Bridget to the boy who, on even closer inspection only looked about sixteen. And hunted. And scared. Especially now, with a big, broad alpha zooming in on him.

Even though he’d got her property in his hands, Jenna felt a little sorry for him. She really needed to harden up if she was going to be a successful business woman. Next time. Next time she had a shoplifter, she’d take a hard line. She’d make sure there was a sign up saying she would prosecute. But not today. Today was supposed to be one of the best days of her life, and she wasn’t going to let it be ruined. ‘It’s okay. He’s just going, aren’t you?’

But before she could register the boy’s response, her vision was filled with something soft and squishy and her mouth stuffed with sweet, sweet icing. ‘Hmmpf?’

What the hell? She wiped her eyes and peered out under sticky eyelashes.

The boy was gone. Vaughn was gone. Her mum was looking at her wide-eyed, her mouth slashed in horror and also a… a smile. She was laughing. Her mother was laughing. ‘Oh, Jenna, you do look a sight. Come here.’ She fished in her handbag and pulled out a tissue.

It was indeed a very tasty cake, but all the same…. ‘The boy…? What? Where?’

‘He shoved the cakes in yer face then did a runner. Vaughn’s gone after him. But your dress is a state.’

Understatement of the year. Jenna looked down at her lovely new dress and the large greasy smudge right across her boobs. She could feel but not see sticky stuff in her hair, and there was definitely something gone rogue on her cheek. Excellent. Great. The Cassidy Curse was not over, then. It was real and here, in her shop and on her face. ‘Bugger! Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!’

Then she clammed up because Evie was over with Faith and her three-year-old ears seemed to be able to pick up anything rude or unsavoury in a two-mile radius.

‘Hello! Is this where the fun’s happening?’

Jenna’s breath halted in her lungs. Double bugger.

Nick. He’d come? How? Why?

Perfect. Bloody perfect. Just in time to see her covered in one hundred and seventy-eight delicious wasted calories worth of icing.

Her eyes darted over to Mrs Singh who smiled knowingly. How the hell…? The Portobello Seer.

And then she glanced over at Chloe who was also smiling. Not another matchmaking thing? Please? Would her sister never listen?

But there he was. Nick. In his uniform. In his uniform. The darkest inky-blue colour accentuated his warm brown eyes. His smile. The perfectly fitted jacket outlined the beautiful muscles in his arms, his back, his pecs. The trousers covered his taut backside like a caress. He looked taller in his work clothes, broader, more… more everything.

When he’d left school to join the army, he’d been a lanky string of a kid of eighteen. Now he was all man, chiselled by war and damaged by betrayal. It made him edgier and a lot damned hotter than she’d ever imagined possible.

It had been so long since her body had had a response to a man in any way, she didn’t know how to control it, how to work with the hammering heart and the too-wet-too-dry mouth. She closed it to prevent any drool from mingling with the icing and dripping down her chin. She tried to play it cool, or as cool as she’d ever get to be, which wasn’t much, if she was honest. ‘Hey. What are you doing here? Beer? Wine?’

‘Jenna. Yes, a little bird told me you were opening today. Plus, you’ve had a huge sign announcing it over the window for a week.’ His lips pressed together as his pupils widened, he pointed to her face. ‘Er… you’ve got a… purple thing on your… well, actually coming down your nose.’

Of course I have. Why not? Why be cool and smooth when you could look incomprehensibly inept and clownish? She grabbed the tissue from her mum’s outstretched hand and mopped her nose. ‘Lavender cream. Thanks. Actually very delicious, if eaten and not snorted.’

‘No snorting, right. I’ll bear that in mind.’ He looked around at her shop. My shop. Her heart did a little dance. ‘You’ve done a great job with the place, very nice.’

‘Thanks. Yes, I’m really pleased with the way it’s turned out. All I need now is customers.’ Stop staring and jabbering.

‘Hello. Hello. You want to introduce me?’ Marnie had muscled her way forward, her camera hanging loosely round her slender neck, long auburn curls framing a pretty impish face. She was also staring at Nick with the same amount of appreciation as Jenna felt.

‘Oh. Yes. Sorry. Nick, this is Marnie Fitzpatrick from the local paper. She’s just leaving, aren’t you?’

‘Do I have to?’ Marnie stayed exactly where she was. ‘This is so much better than the telly.’

Nick regarded Jenna’s sticky lavender face, and his eyes slowly moved from her mouth to her neck, to her chest. ‘Um… accident?’

‘Shoplifter, actually.’ The journalist cut in, turned to Jenna and also scanned to her chest. ‘He tried to steal a necklace, and when he got caught in the act, he threw a load of cakes at Jenna. Diversion tactics. Quite clever, really. Vaughn’s out there now chasing him. Very exciting. It’s never a dull moment with the Cassidy girls. Right?’

Jenna was over the excitement, and the cupcakes and the reporter. ‘Okay, you’ve had enough now. Thanks for coming, but I think we’re all done here. And, please, I want to read the article before it’s printed.’

‘Sorry, honey, but that’s not how it works.’ Marnie winked in a conspiratorial way and then banged the door closed as she left.

And damn it, Jenna had been hoping that once, just once, she was going to be in the newspaper because of her business and not because of their chaotic lives. Worse, it would be in their online version too, so her humiliation would be there for eternity. One click. Just like her sister’s jilting story; once out there, never forgotten.

Jenna turned around to the silent room. Her mum was pigging her eyes, hands on her hips, looking as if she was waiting for something—although Jenna had no idea what. Mrs Singh was smiling, smugly knowing. Chloe was bent talking to Evie, who was still ashen, but singing “Let It Go” from Frozen listlessly. Faith was pulling he’s so goddamn hawt faces and fanning herself behind Nick’s back.

And then to his face as he whipped round to see who Jenna was making stop it eyes at. He frowned as he realised they were all looking at him. ‘Er… do I have something on my face too? Or are they waiting to be served… or…?’

Jenna waited for the hitch in her chest to stop before she spoke. ‘No. They… are my family and friends. Sorry, I’m being rude. I should introduce you. Hey, everyone, this is Nick. He’s seconded to the local police station to finish his training, hence the uniform. That’s Faith, from the pub next door. Mrs Singh from the sari store round the corner. Obviously, you know Chloe.’ Because she’d set them up on that last date. And, quite possibly, had something to do with his arrival today. Traitor. ‘That’s my mum over there by the pink flowers, and that little twirling munchkin is…. Come here, darling, say hi.’ She motioned to Evie, who had stopped twirling and singing and now stood, frowning. A lot. As if she had a puzzle she was trying to work out—a very difficult puzzle that was inside her tummy and she was rubbing hard to get the answer.

But Jenna had seen that funny bemused look too many times before. ‘Oh. Oh—’

No. Not now. Please don’t let it go right now. No.

Jenna reached out to her daughter but missed as Evie darted forward. Then she watched, literally feeling her lips do a one-eighty-degree turn down as, in what felt like impossibly slow motion, Evie ran all the way to Nick, her hand moving from her stomach to her throat, to her mouth. And then, in even slower motion, her lips parted and her little body heaved.

Ugh.

There was a weird sort of shocked collective intake of breath, followed by an endless silence. Jenna felt the heavy gaze of every pair of eyes in the shop and viscerally felt the weight of a thousand mortifications travel through her own tummy.

He’d jerked back, making a small noise that was part revulsion and part despair.

He wouldn’t think she was incompetent; he’d know she was, because who the hell allowed a little girl to twirl around after two ice creams and a tummy ache?

She would not look at him.

Could not look at him.

But she had to. Because she was a grown-up now. She had her own business, her own life, her own daughter. This little barely-out-of-babyhood girl who was ill and needed a mamma hug regardless of anything else. Jenna bent to pick her up and held her tight. ‘It’s okay, baby. Mamma’s here.’

But, slowly, Jenna’s eyes travelled along the floor to his feet. Ugh.

He looked down at his shoes. Lovely black shiny shoes. Police shoes that took hours of polishing. That would now need more hours—days—of cleaning. His gaze travelled back to her, and he smiled—a little tight smile that said it’s okay, it’s not okay. ‘And this is…?’

Vomit?

‘Evie. This is Evie, my daughter. She’s not feeling great. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.’ Jenna rubbed Evie’s tummy and held her lovely still baby-soft curls back from her little clammy face. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Hey, I saw a lot worse in the army. And I’d make a pretty rubbish cop if this bothered me. It’s fine. It’s fine.’ It wasn’t. Not at all. Nick’s beautiful mouth had stretched into a thin, taut line, and he was standing utterly and completely still—as if the… mess was sticking him to the floor. It probably was. He was trying to be totally cool about it, but he couldn’t hide that flash of panic and dismay no matter how much he tried to.

With a huge tsk, her mum came forward, brandishing handfuls of kitchen roll, which she stuffed into his hand. ‘You’ll be needing this. And some water. There’s a sink out back, and a toilet.’ Then in her loudest voice. ‘Which is where Evie should have been in the first place.’

Jenna felt her muscles tense harder. Her eyes locked with her mum’s. A parenting standoff. Thankfully, Nick was heading towards the toilet, dropping pieces of kitchen roll on the floor in front of him to tread on, so as not to get the yuck onto the new boards. She hissed back at her mum, ‘Or maybe she shouldn’t have been given two ice creams?’

‘Maybe she shouldn’t have dropped one?’

‘Mamma.’ Evie tugged at Jenna’s sleeve, her little face starting to crumple.

‘Oh, honey. Feel better now?’ Jenna felt her daughter’s head. Still not hot. No bug, then, definitely just too much sugar and cream.

Evie nodded. ‘You said not to be sick on our floor, so I did it on da man’s feet.’ Evie’s little face started to crumple. ‘You cross, Mamma?’

‘No. It’s… it’s okay.’ It would have to be, because she couldn’t reprimand her daughter for doing what she’d thought was the right thing. ‘But next time, tell Mamma you feel poorly and we’ll try make it to the bathroom.’

So, there it was… the infamous new beginning. Turned out to be more like a comedy of errors. She couldn’t look at the floor or at her mother, and had no idea at all how to restart a conversation with Nick.