Joe Spelling loves sweets. In fact, the only thing he loves more is the delectable Miss Leonora Culpepper. Leonora, however, is a health-food addict and a dietician. She even wrote a column in the local paper that Joe believes nearly ruined his mother’s bakery business.
Can this unlikely pair ever get past their dietary differences? Can she satisfy Joe’s sweet tooth without compromising her healthy menu?
Joe Spelling pushed his cart down the candy aisle at the Super Savings Neighborhood Market, tossing anything chocolate into the basket. He wheeled around the corner, then glanced at his watch. Running late again, he pushed forward quickly—and bam! His cart jarred against something unmovable.
“Hey, be careful!” A soft, feminine voice penetrated his shock.
Joe found himself gazing into the loveliest pair of gray eyes he’d ever seen. Pain and amusement warred in that gaze. His grocery basket was jammed against the side of her cart. The woman was wedged against the cantaloupe counter, fruit falling around her.
“Oh, God, am I sorry!” he croaked, jerking the cart back and pulling her away from the counter. His maneuver loosened a barrage of melons which cascaded noisily to the floor, some rolling away.
“Now look what you’ve done!” She sounded amused rather than angry.
Feeling sheepish, he squatted to grab a melon. She knelt beside him to help.
Like a spring breeze, her voice was gentle—soothing and invigorating all at once—as she chided him. “I’m sure you didn’t mean it, but you really should watch where you’re going.”
“I’ll pay for the ruined melons. Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.” She smiled.
His breath stopped—along with his heart. There she was, dark blonde hair coiled atop her head and held in place by a clip comb, tender gray eyes sparkling at him. Smiling at him! Joe lost all sense of time as he stared at her. He’d never felt a rush like this. He wanted to kiss that soft, smiling mouth. Forcing his gaze back to the melons, he hoped he wasn’t blushing—though the heat in his face said otherwise.
“Are you throwing a children’s party?” Her eyes widened at the gargantuan pile of sweets in his basket. “Your child, perhaps?”
He grinned at her. “Nope. Unless you consider me a child, which my mom still does…but not married, no kids.”
“Oh,”—her brow furrowed slightly—“then all these sweets are for you?”
“Yep.” His wide grin faltered. There was something disapproving in her gaze. “Don’t you like sweets?”
“Well, they have their place in the food chain,” she answered doubtfully, “but I’m more of a yogurt and fresh fruit person.”
Joe’s heart sank.