The Little Brooklyn Bakery: A heartwarming feel good novel full of cakes and romance!

‘These look gorgeous.’ Sophie peered down at the tray of cakes in front of her. ‘They must take hours.’

‘They do … but they’re worth it and every single one is hand-crafted with love,’ Bella beamed. ‘Although it’s hard work, but it’s my business. Well mine, the bank’s and my granddad’s. He owns the lease on the building.

‘Now, is there anything you need? It’s the first time I’ve let the apartment. The renovations were only finished ten days ago.’

‘Seriously, Bella, it’s all gorgeous. Everything.’ Sophie bit her lip, she didn’t want to mention the lack of bedding, as it really wasn’t Bella’s responsibility, but she had a feeling she’d make it hers.

‘Well, let me know if there’s anything you need.’

‘No, it’s great and I love the deck.’

‘Just watch out for the mossies. They’re nasty.’

‘Mossies? As in mosquitoes?’

‘Oh yeah. If you’re planning on sitting out there, get some citronella candles or a fan. Now, coffee? A latte, drip coffee, iced coffee, cappuccino, macchiato, flat white, Americano, espresso?’

‘Cappuccino, please. The last drink I had was on the plane. I’m gasping.’

‘Garsping,’ teased Bella, elongating the vowel. ‘Gee, your accent is so cute.’

Sophie winced, glad she hadn’t asked for tea, and watched as the other girl set to work with quick efficiency, tapping out the old grounds, tamping down new, quickly twisting the silver filter into place while pouring milk into a jug with her other hand.

‘Take a seat and I’ll bring it over.’

Sophie sat down at the only free table, a bistro set in the window, and took a good look around at the bakery. She loved the eclectic decoration and how it had been divided into specific areas, each one with its own distinct style where the sofa, chairs, cushions and throws took their inspiration from the wallpaper design in the wall panel nearest them.

Towards the back there was a large archway and beyond it you could see the kitchen, the table still covered in flour and utensils as if the latest batch of goodies had just been finished.

With a happy sigh, Sophie sat back in her chair. She already loved this place and Bella had given her such a warm, friendly welcome, suddenly she didn’t feel quite so far from home. She pulled out a notebook and her guide book, there was so much she needed to do but her head felt a bit too buzzy and cotton-woolly to get a proper grasp on what she should think about first. Jet-lag was a bummer.

The underground map looked horribly confusing and she couldn’t figure out the names of any of the lines, there seemed to be so many different options. She glanced over at Bella, busy behind the counter, she’d ask her for some help. She could do this.

Nerves shimmered as she looked through the window at the busy street. She was really here. London was several hours ahead and in the safety of the café she felt that perhaps if she took one day at a time, she could get through the next six months.

It would be late afternoon in England. What would James be doing? Was he still with his wife, Anna?

‘Hey, I hear you’re Sophie.’

With a jolt, she looked up to find a man looming over her, the sun streaming in through the window, outlining his shape but making it difficult to see his features. From the way he nodded over at Bella, who was gesticulating with those wild arms again, it was obvious the American girl had indicated who she was.

Twisting a chair so that the back faced him, he swung his leg over the seat and sat down grinning at her.

Immediately she was irked by his confidence, the casual attitude, so utterly sure of his welcome. She gave him a tight smile.

‘I’m Todd.’ He held out a steady hand which she had no option but to shake. His grip was firm and dry.

She stiffened, wanting to move backwards. He exuded self-assurance which made her feel doubly inadequate, out of place and alien.

‘Bella’s my cousin. I found this place for you.’

What did he want? A bloody medal?

Politeness forced her to nod and say tightly, ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ He lifted his head as Bella approached with Sophie’s drink and cake. ‘Hey, Bella babes. Can I get an iced coffee?’

‘Hi Todd, what brings you this way so early?’ She put the coffee and cake in front of Sophie. ‘I thought you’d still be sleeping off last night’s party.’

‘Who said I’d been home yet?’

‘Stupid me, of course you haven’t.’

She turned to Sophie. ‘This is my cousin, Todd McLennan. Party animal extraordinaire.’ She leaned down and gave him a hug. ‘So where was it happening last night? Or rather, should I ask who was it last night?’

‘You wound me.’ He put his hand over his heart, grinning at Sophie. ‘Don’t believe a word she says.’

‘Do believe everything I say. He’s bad news where women are concerned.’

‘Bella, Bella, Bella … you do me wrong.’ He sighed. ‘I never lie to them.’

‘True, but they always think they’ll be the one to reform you.’

He shrugged and leaned over to dip his finger in the frosting of Sophie’s cake, winking at her as he did. ‘I can’t help it if they don’t listen.’

Sophie narrowed her eyes as Bella slapped at his hand.

‘Keep your mitts off, that’s Sophie’s. She’s probably not had any breakfast yet.’

‘Sorry,’ he said, his mouth stretching into a wide smile, ‘neither have I.’

‘Have you even been home?’ asked Bella, shaking her head.

‘Yes, slept snug and tight in my own bed, if you have to ask. Now are you going to bring me a coffee or do I have to beg?’

Sophie refrained from snorting, as if he’d ever had to beg for anything in his life. Just looking at him, in his casual linen Ralph Lauren shirt and smart navy shorts, with expensive, if scuffed, loafers on his feet, you could tell this one led a charmed life. Almost as if he could read her disparaging thoughts, he gave her a charm-fuelled, dazzling, film-star smile.

‘So English, how are you finding Brooklyn?’ He leaned forward on the back of the chair, focusing all his attention on her as if he really wanted to know. She had the feeling it was a practised move, that came as easily to him as breathing.

‘It’s Sophie, and I’ve only just arrived, so I’ve not had a chance to find anything yet.’ Her words sounded stiff and starchy.

He leaned forward and pulled her notes and map towards him. ‘Bergen Street. The F line 47th/50th.’

‘Sorry?’ Hell, she sounded even more prim and prissy.

He simply grinned. ‘The route to work. That’s what you were looking up, weren’t you?’

Was he some sort of mind reader? She frowned.

‘You’re doing the job swap with Brandi. I suggested Bella’s place when they let the other girl’s place go. Man, bad luck her breaking her leg, but lucky for you, I guess. Never thought they’d get someone to fill the post, that quickly. Were you second pick or something?’

‘Something,’ snapped Sophie with uncharacteristic sharpness, stung that everyone would think she was second choice, when she didn’t want to come in the first place.

‘Hey!’ He held up his hands in quick surrender. ‘I’m not suggesting you’re not as good.’ Unexpected sympathy brimmed in his eyes, as if he knew it was more complicated than that. ‘The subway can be a bit confusing for a first-timer. Bergen Street is a couple of blocks away. I could show you after coffee.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘We’re going to be co-workers.’

‘What? You work at CityZen?’

‘Sure do.’ His eyes twinkled wickedly and he raised his eyebrows in suggestive challenge, ‘I write the Man About Town column.’

Clearly she was supposed to know about that. She should have checked out the magazine in advance, which is what a normal enthusiastic person, who’d been offered an amazing opportunity to come and work in the most exciting city in the world, would have done.

Suddenly she was sick of herself, sick of her seesawing emotions, sick of feeling sorry for herself and sick that James had done this to her. She’d spent her childhood rising above things, being sunny and positive despite everything her Dad’s ex-wife had thrown at their family. James was not going to take that away from her.

With a deliberately bright smile, she responded, ‘That sounds fun.’ As soon as she left here she would find the first newsagents (didn’t they call them newsstands here?) and pick up a copy of CityZen.

‘Oh it is.’ Those film-star teeth flashed again, although did she imagine it, or did the smile not quite reach his eyes? She got the impression he’d said it many times. ‘When you love your work, it doesn’t feel like work.’

‘I’ll second that,’ said Bella, sliding a tall glass of iced coffee in front of him. ‘That’ll be four dollars.’

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills, like tissues, handing one to her before swiping another taste of frosting from the cake.

‘Oy, get your own.’ Sophie tapped his hand smartly and moved the plate closer to her side of the table.

‘You’re no fun, English,’ he moaned, taking his time, licking the big dollop of frosting from his finger. ‘Man, this is good.’ He shot Sophie a sudden, horrified, disapproving look, ‘Please tell me you’re not a crazy person who considers her body a temple and thinks sugar is sin.’ With a surreptitious glance out the window, he added, ‘There are way too many of them in Brooklyn already. The soya-and-sushi sisterhood. All quinoa and chia seeds.’

Sophie burst out laughing, finally succumbing. It wasn’t his fault that she currently hated the world in general. ‘I’m definitely not a crazy person.’

‘Damn, and here was I hoping to guilt you into handing over the cake.’

‘No way.’ She put her arms protectively around the plate. ‘I love my food.’ With a rueful smile, she added, ‘A bit too much.’

Shamelessly he gave her body a once up and down, his eyes dancing with appreciation and merriment. ‘Not from here, you don’t.’

With a ladylike snort, she ignored the faint blush that stole along her cheeks, knowing better than to take him seriously. She’d got his measure. This was one man you should never take seriously and you’d be a fool if you did. And she was not going to be a fool again. Ever.

‘I have to run a lot to balance it all out.’ At least she’d packed her trainers, if not a sports bra. ‘Bella was right, you are bad news, aren’t you? But I appreciate the thought.’ She was never going to be stick thin, but who wanted to be like that if you were miserable and starving? Regular running kept her between a size twelve and fourteen.

He grinned, unrepentant, and for a second their eyes met. She grinned back at him and picked up the cake, taking a large deliberate bite.

‘Ouch, I felt that.’

‘You were supposed to. Mmm, it’s delicious.’

‘Sure you can eat all of that? It’s a mighty big cake. Lots of calories.’

With a deliberate lick of her lips, ignoring the hopeful expression on his face, she savoured the tangy citrus sweetness of the frosting around her mouth, sighed heavily and gave him a smug look. ‘Oh yes, I’m going to enjoy every last one of them.’

‘You’re heartless, English. Heartless.’ He shook his head in mock sorrow, his lips curving in shared amusement.

‘You’d better believe it,’ she said, taking another thoughtful bite of the soft sponge, enjoying the exchange and ignoring the little butterfly-like flutters dancing in the pit of her stomach. Nothing to see here, she told herself firmly. Good looking, charming and totally shallow, light-hearted fun and nothing more. It was a while since she’d flirted with anyone and it felt rather liberating, especially when it didn’t mean a thing.

‘So, Mr Man About Town, can you fill me in on the local neighbourhood? I need to find somewhere to buy bed linen and towels.’ She paused. ‘Although maybe you’re not the best person to ask.’

‘Excuse me.’ He pointed to himself with his thumbs. ‘Man About Town. In touch with my feminine side.’

‘Really?’ She gave him a direct look.

‘And no, I’m not gay.’

‘I never said a word.’

‘It’s an inevitable side-effect of working on a women’s magazine. You absorb shopping stuff by osmosis. If you want serious thread count – see, I know this stuff – Nordstrom Rack for quality and discount, or T.J.Maxx for discount and a free for all. Just a couple of blocks away on Fulton Street. Here, let me mark on the map for you.’

‘I need to find a supermarket too, to buy …’ she couldn’t quite bring herself to say ‘groceries’.

‘A supermarket.’ He pursed his lips around the word, lifting the smooth column of his throat. ‘Jeez, I love how you say that, it’s so prim and proper.’ He grinned recklessly again. ‘Kinda sexy.’

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the thought that someone must have invented the word for him. ‘You need to get out more.’

He laughed and scooted his chair closer to hers, pulling open the map. ‘Here, got a pen? I’ll mark a couple of grocery stores for you.’

‘I don’t have a pen.’

‘Here you go.’ He rooted in the canvas-and-leather man bag slung over his shoulder. Of course he had a man bag, he was so a man bag sort of man.

‘Associated Supermarkets on Fifth and Union Street is good. Not the nearest, but definitely one of the nicer ones. Turn right out of here, go down Union Street and then it’s a good six blocks but worth it. I’m guessing you can cook if you’re the new food columnist. I’ll have to get you to cook dinner some time, as we’re practically neighbours.’

She raised a single eyebrow at his casual assumption, a trick she was inordinately proud of. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, before adding just as he took a sip of coffee, ‘and you can do my washing.’

With a choked laugh, he nearly spluttered his drink all over the table. ‘I like you, English. Funny girl. We’re going to get on just fine.’

Sophie gave him a considering look.

‘Come on.’ He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. ‘I’ll show you the way to the subway station and then from there you can walk on down to Fulton Street, to get your home wares. We’ll take a rain check on dinner as I’m sure you want to get settled. And I doubt you’ve got any laundry yet …’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘And you do know washing in the States is something completely different?’

As she put her hand in his, there was no little frisson of electricity, no gentle sizzle between them, no … a bloody great thunderbolt of lust that almost floored her. Todd McLennan was more than bad news, he was the sort of news that she needed to stay well, well away from.

Chapter 4

For most of the subway journey, Sophie had been fascinated by the fantastically chic woman opposite her wearing a perfectly tailored black suit and her hair swept up in a perfect chignon. Despite her sleek elegance, Sophie couldn’t help staring at the clumpy white trainers on her feet. It made her smile. The epitome of New York chic and practicality.

She pulled her cardigan around her. The carriage was a bit too cool, although she shouldn’t complain, as the fearsome air conditioning made a welcome contrast to the rich, warm fug of the London underground. The train streaked along, the station names unfamiliar and yet familiar, East Broadway, 2 Avenue, 42 Street Bryant Park, 47–50 Street – Rockefeller Center, and then suddenly 57 Street, her stop. With a quickening heart she grasped the pole as the train jerked to a halt, her pulse racing as she stepped out with the crowd swarming towards the exit.

New York proper.

She’d still woken at stupid o’clock this morning but had enjoyed a leisurely coffee out on the deck. Yesterday, after Todd had shown her the subway and helped her buy her a monthly metro card, he’d directed her down Bergen Street and then down Hoyt Street which led straight to Nordstrom on Fulton Street, with T.J.Maxx right next door. Even without looking at the map, it had been pretty easy to navigate. Despite her love of London, she had to admit she was rather taken with the straightforward grid system. It made finding her way back via a rather fab grocery store, so easy. She still thought, despite Todd’s protestation that it was impossible to get lost, that it was perfectly possible if you didn’t know your East from your West or your North from your South. Some of those streets went on for miles.

Laden down with new bedding and a bale of towels, after spending far too long browsing among designer goodies, she’d only bought the basics in the supermarket and had treated herself to the rare convenience of a ready-roasted chicken. There was even a choice. Rosemary and lemon, garlic and herb or Caribbean. She’d also bought a copy of CityZen, leafing through it as she ate her solitary supper.

When a seat came free on the subway, she sat down, taking the time to have another look at the magazine. No one ever need know that her first port of call was the Man About Town column. Todd’s picture leapt out from the glossy pages, his blue eyes enhanced perfectly by the open-necked shirt he wore. It was a great photo. The slight curve of his lips lazily (and yes, sexily) smiling up at her, as if he knew exactly what she and every other woman on the planet were thinking. She pursed her lips with a tolerant smile and shook her head. Todd oozed charisma and charm … and he knew it. He was the sort of person you should treat like an adorable puppy, knowing that his winsome friendliness was totally indiscriminate.

As the train pulled into the station, she tucked the magazine back into her bag and let herself be carried along by the swell of people. She found herself deposited outside on the pavement, almost projected into the blare of the New York traffic. She stopped dead, exactly the way she hated tourists in London doing, but really! When you looked up, you kept looking up and up and up. Ignoring the tuts around her, she cricked her neck as she followed the line of the skyscrapers. She was really here. Manhattan. For a moment she stood and stared upwards, taking in the sight of the towering giants dwarfing everything around them, feeling slightly dizzy. The frisson of anxious nerves that had danced and sung in her veins since she’d woken to the alarm in her apartment vanished with a sudden unexpected bolt of excitement. New York. Seen in countless films, it felt both familiar and strange at once. This was going to be her life for the next six months. All the fear and roiling uneasiness that had been stored up for the last ten days, tightening the tendons in her neck, lining her stomach with nauseous intent and pinching at the muscles in her shoulders, suddenly gave up its grip. With an almost involuntary little skip, she turned and checked her bearings. 57th Street.

She walked quickly, matching her pace to blend with everyone else, her nose alert to the smell of hot dogs and pretzels as she passed a couple of fast-food stands and her ears picking up on the American accents around her. Ahead, a tower block with a jagged silhouette of diamond-shaped glass panes beckoned. Recognising the magazine headquarters, she picked up her step. Up close it was even more imposing. What looked like hundreds of floors of steel and glass rose upwards from the original 1920s stone building which now made up the base.

Following the tide of people, trying to look nonchalant – after all, she was one of them now – she entered through the double doors and almost gasped. It was much cooler inside but the space was huge. Two escalators rose several stories up, alongside a wall of glass and water, the sound of the rushing liquid amplified by the space. She gulped. The country mouse had come to town.

Turnstiles guarded the entrance which people gaily slipped through. She turned right to the reception desk and waited while the girl behind it finished tidying the paper on it, before fixing a bored gaze upon her.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Yes, hi, I’m …’ Words deserted her. ‘I’m … here …’ The name of the woman she was supposed to ask for had vanished. Completely wiped from her memory. ‘I’m starting work here today.’

‘Department?’

‘CityZen Magazine.’

‘Name?’

‘Sophie. Sophie Bennings.’

The girl scanned her computer screen, her mouth tightening as if it really was too much trouble. Her frown deepened. She looked at Sophie again.

‘Can’tseeyoudownhere. Needa name.’

‘Pardon?’ Sophie could barely interpret the girl’s accent and quick-fire delivery.

‘I need a name.’

‘Erm …’ Sophie’s mind went blank. ‘Trudy … Trudy …’ No, it had gone. ‘Hold on a minute.’ Rummaging in her bag, she searched for her mobile. Why hadn’t she been more organised and written everything down?

Security was clearly tight. And she had no clue where she was supposed to be going.

The girl looked over her shoulder. ‘Morning, Sir. Can I help you?’

Dismissed summarily, Sophie paled and cursed her own stupidity. Emails. There were emails with everything in them. Where was her phone? She pulled out her purse. Make-up bag. Keys. No phone.

With horrible realisation, she remembered. Faffing about with the unfamiliar American adapter, plugging her phone in to charge.

‘Hey, English.’

‘Todd! Hi,’ her voice squeaked unbecomingly in utter relief.

‘Morning. You found your way here OK, then.’

‘Yes, but I’ve left my phone behind and all the paperwork. I can’t remember who I was supposed to ask for.’

‘No problem. I’ll take you up.’ He leaned over the desk. ‘Hey, Terri. She’s with me.’

An instant smile lifted the girl’s perfectly made-up mannequin face. ‘Hey Todd, how you doing?’

‘Good, you?’

‘Better if you’d take me out for lunch.’ Her chin dipped in coy invitation.

‘Now Terri, you know I don’t mix business with pleasure.’

‘A girl can try,’ her eyes lowered with seductive promise. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’

‘I know,’ said Todd mournfully. ‘It’s a burden I have to bear.’

With a quick rueful pout, she pushed a pass over the desk. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ said Sophie as he guided her through the barriers towards the huge escalators, unable to stop herself adding, ‘even though you put yourself in the face of danger there.’

He gave her a cheerful grin. ‘One likes to do one’s duty. They’re pretty tight on security here. You could have had a long wait while they checked you out.’

Sophie stared around her. ‘This place is impressive.’

‘You get used to it.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re up on the thirty-third floor.’

She followed him through a seating area filled with bright sunshine to the bank of lifts, and they sailed upwards with a stomach-dropping whoosh, and in seconds the doors opened with a ping. Her nerves settled with instant relief at the sight of the familiar logo of the magazine on a large glass panel. This looked more like it. Beyond the glass, she could see desks ranked just like back in London. Suddenly everything didn’t feel quite so alien and intimidating.

With a wave at the girl on the reception desk, Todd pushed her forward.

‘This is Sophie. She’s the job swap with Brandi.’

The young woman looked up, a quick expression of appalled horror crossing her face, which she masked almost instantly.

‘I’ll let Trudy know you’re here.’

After a ten-minute wait, which seemed agonisingly long, Sophie was led down the hall to a glass-walled office in the corner.

‘Trudy, this is Sophie. The job swap.’

‘Sophie, nice to meet you. Erm …’ said the tall, dark-haired woman, rising and smoothing her hand down a slim-fitting pencil skirt before holding it out.

She looked at the receptionist, her eyes flashing some hidden message. ‘Right, erm … take a seat. I’ll be right back.’

Sophie sank into the chair and stared out at the view beyond. New York spread out before her, the green of what had to be Central Park, the trees – so small from up here – reminding her of heads of broccoli, the intricate layout of rooftops a long way below which looked like Airfix models, detailed with water towers and air-conditioning units, and in the distance edging the park, more skyscrapers, blinding white in the brilliant sunshine like sentries on the border. Did you ever get tired of this view, she wondered. It was incredible.