Free Wedding Cake Wishes by Dana Corbit Page A

shake the feeling. If anyone else had looked at him that way, or said some of the same things she’d said to him this morning, he would have been certain that person was flirting, but this was Caroline Scott. His instincts were off when it came to her, his tried-and-true methods for dealing with women as ineffective as a trip with all left turns.
    He hadn’t imagined it, he decided. She probably smiled that way with all of her friends. But if that was the case and he could expect more smiles like that in the coming weeks, he was especially glad to count himself among Caroline’s friends.

Chapter Six
    â€œT wo cakes today?”
    Caroline smiled at the question that came out of Amy’s mouth before Caroline and Logan had made it through the door of the new room in the hospital’s rehabilitation center. The reality that Logan’s mother was sitting up in a wheelchair made her smile even more.
    She didn’t even feel guilty for skipping the chance to spend another afternoon job-searching on her mother’s interminably slow Internet connection. Hadn’t somebody outlawed dial-up by now? Anyway, the chance to see Mrs. Warren out of bed was worth any job leads she missed.
    â€œWell, somebody’s having a good day,” Caroline said.
    Amy looked great, too. She wore a fluffy bathrobe over her hospital gown, and her silver hair, though not styled the way she usually wore it, was clean and combed.
    This room was bigger than the last one, with four beds instead of two, all for stroke patients or those recovering from other types of brain injuries. A woman in her latefifties slept in the bed nearest the door, but the three remaining beds, including Amy’s, were empty.
    â€œHi, beautiful.” Logan kissed his mother’s cheek and then rubbed the side of his forefinger along her jawline. Lowering his hand, Logan helped Amy adjust the blanket in her lap so that her weaker left hand rested on top of the cloth.
    Caroline swallowed, the intimate scene making her chest feel tight. Logan was such an attentive son, visiting his mother every day on his lunch hour and many evenings after work, as well. His tireless care for his mother—that had to be what had touched Caroline so deeply. So why did she suddenly wonder what it would feel like if hers were the cheek he’d kissed, if her face was the one he’d touched?
    â€œTwo?”
    Caroline was grateful Amy had repeated the question, giving her the chance to avoid her own questions. They were becoming tougher and tougher to answer.
    â€œTechnically, it’s three if you count the simple two-layer that Kamie finished up late this afternoon for tonight’s ceremony at the assisted living center,” Logan told her. “Young love. Ain’t it grand?”
    â€œI thought it was sweet,” Caroline said, frowning at him. “Two widowed seniors in their eighties have found love again. You should have seen how cute they were when I went to the center to take their order.”
    Surprised by her own words, Caroline stared at the floor. When had she become a romantic, anyway? Some women swooned over things like baby’s breath, cathedral-length trains and proposals in horse-drawn carriages. She’d never been one of those women. So she was as mystified by her comment as she had beenover becoming misty-eyed when that sweet senior lady had described the pillbox hat she’d ordered for her wedding.
    When she finally looked up again, Logan was grinning at her. Like always, he’d just been trying to get a rise out of his mother and her. But as his gaze moved to his mother again, that smile vanished. Though he blinked a few times, his eyes remained suspiciously shiny. Instead of the warning frown that Amy usually would have given her son after one of his facetious comments, she wore a blank expression, as if she’d missed the joke.
    Caroline knew what he had to be thinking. The neurologist had warned them that