Derek’s smile was smooth. “Your cupcakes are fantastic.”
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying them.” Alex smiled, too, and glanced around, looking completely relaxed. “Brooklyn, I love how you turned your front room into a workshop.”
“Thanks.” I supposed they were both being perfectly cordial, but I felt a coolness. I wasn’t sure why. Did they already know each other from somewhere in the past? Or did Derek not like Alex? What was there not to like? The woman was gorgeous and smart, ran her own business, and made great cupcakes. Still, I supposed it was a matter of taste.
More important, why wouldn’t Alex like Derek? He was one of the most intelligent, caring, funny, awesome men I’d ever met, as well as being the absolute best-looking manly male on the planet.
Another thought occurred instantly. Maybe Derek liked her more than he thought he would. Was the coolness I sensed actually a strong attraction he was trying to tamp down?
Did Alex feel the same way?
Oh, hell. I hated the sharp sting of doubt that streaked through me at lightning speed. I had no reason to mistrust either of them, especially Derek. Nuts. I was seriously being nuts. Derek loved me and I knew it. I was just grasping at mental straws, trying to find an answer to why Derek and Alex weren’t hitting it off.
I must have been staring into space because I didn’t see Derek move closer until I felt his arm around my shoulders. “Darling, everything’s ready upstairs, so why don’t I pour you both a glass of champagne?”
“Thank you.” With a vague smile, I returned to my task of carefully wrapping the utensils in colorful cloth napkins and placing them on the dining room table.
“Will you have champagne?” Derek asked Alex.
“Sounds wonderful.”
I watched as Alex maneuvered the cupcake cart against the wall nearest the kitchen bar. “Can I leave this here until we’re ready for dessert?”
“That’s a perfect spot for it,” Derek said. “Can they be served right from the cart?”
“Oh, sure,” she said. “It’ll be more fun that way.”
Derek hovered a few inches away, staring at the treats as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. He glanced up. “Does everyone react to them with such . . . fervor?”
She laughed. “Yes, and I love it.”
“What are the flavors?”
“I made chocolate mint, pineapple coconut, red velvet, and marshmallow cocoa. Twelve of each flavor. And they all have a special treat baked into the middle.”
“Dear Lord,” Derek muttered. “You are a witch.”
“A good witch,” I added quickly.
She beamed with delight. “Thank you.”
And just like that, the tension between them seemed to dissipate. It was just as I’d noticed before: all the world’s problems could be solved by sharing a few dozen cupcakes.
Derek’s eyes became dark with purpose. “I definitely choose the marshmallow cocoa.”
“Excellent,” I said. “I’m red velvet.”
He nodded. “Good to know we won’t have to fight for the same flavor.”
A few minutes later, he jogged up the stairs to check the grill. Alex joined me in the kitchen while I washed and dried a few dishes. “Derek seems like a great guy.”
“He’s the best.”
“How did you meet him?”
I sighed. “We were involved in a murder together.”
“Ah, romantic.” She took a sip of her champagne and then leaned in closer. “So, tell me. Was he with Scotland Yard? Interpol?”
I backed up. “What?”
She smiled knowingly. “I recognize that International Man of Mystery type.”
“What do you mean?”
Ignoring my words, she reconsidered her choices. “Oh, wait. He’s got to be with MI6.”
Moving deliberately, I reached for the dish towel and dried my hands. “If you know enough to recognize the type, then you must know that if I told you what you wanted to know, you wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy the party.”
Her eyes widened and she began to laugh. She finally had to set down her champagne glass, she was laughing so hard.
“Did I miss something funny?” I asked.
She took a deep breath as her laughter subsided. “I really do like you, Brooklyn.”
“Lucky me.” I hung up the dish towel before facing her directly. “Let me ask you something. What do you really think of Derek?”
Alex seemed to seriously consider the question as she pursed her lips in thought. “He’s gorgeous, obviously. Wonderfully tall. I imagine he has good taste in everything. He’s smart, especially for choosing to be with you. Sharp sense of humor. Dangerous. Calculating. A risk taker. Ridiculously alpha. Not my type at all.”
“Why not?”
“Way too dominant.”
I frowned. “He likes kittens.”
“Everybody likes kittens,” she said with another quick laugh.
I took a moment to pull a cheese platter from the refrigerator and set it on the counter to allow the cheeses to soften. “So, how did you know he . . . I mean, why do you think he worked in intelligence?”