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accept it never trumped fantasy?
    But he kept creeping in as she cast him in the role of a prince among men. She wove one hell of yarn with the fantasy of him fixed in her mind. If their meeting had gone differently…fate having a hand in it of course, he’d do his best to play it cool. Yet, he would be enchanted with the everyday Emma. He would have asked her out. His last words would not have been I’m going to go . The point being, she continued to hope there was one man, at the very least, that could live up to the expectations she had. None had and it seemed, no one would.
    Pushing Graham out of her thoughts, for good this time, she said, “I should hate you for never gaining an ounce.”
    Emma pushed the tray of cookies to the edge of the island for her friends to taste-test, and parted open recipe books like the Red Sea that covered the large wooden island. Most had been her mother’s, and most, now, had pen or pencil additions on every page.
    “A sugar cookie with lemon zest. I was feeling zingy today.” Her announcement brought on a heavy silence. She looked up when it stretched moments longer. “What?” she said.
    “And what brought on this zest?” Abigail inquired.
    Heat warmed her cheeks. She’d have to share her unending shame. “Being embarrassed down to my pinky toes.” Emma tapped the pencil on the notepad in a staccato beat. “The guy from last night came in.”
    Sasha paused with a second cookie scant inches from her lips. Her friend swallowed what remained in her mouth, and glanced at the cookie she held. A moment later she shoved the treat inside and spoke around a fountain of crumbs. “He stalked you?” Even with the mouthful, the worry was evident.
    “Kismet,” Emma corrected. “Graham had a sudden urge for something sweet for breakfast, walked in and there I was turning red at the roots.”
    Her mind filled with Graham. Again. If pressured to describe the man she wouldn’t be able to. His presence, stronger than the scent of fresh coffee, surrounded her. Because of it, Emma’s brain snagged on stupid stuff like the way his dark brown eyes, damn near the shade of midnight, undressed her. The gaze belied the stoic exterior, and the heat of it sent a tingle down her spine. She flushed at the memory of how he cataloged every inch of her flesh despite being fully clothed.
    His gaze had been intense, but not in a leering way. It had been more of a sensual checklist detailing her every facet. The warmth vanished, doused when she remembered the sudden frost that had come over him. From hot to cold in sixty seconds, the man was more efficient than a bowl of ice water.
    He was no one’s prince. The main ingredient for her perfect man was charm. Graham had none.
    “This sounds promising.” Abigail knocked Sasha’s hand away from the dwindling pile of cookies, gave her a slow-down look and took a treat for herself.
    “What? I haven’t eaten all day,” Sasha said, frowning. “Plus, it’s a compliment to the cook.”
    “Thanks,” Emma said. “And Graham isn’t promising. There’s a difference between appreciating the view while visiting and not wanting to take a scenic route. I got the distinct impression he wanted the latter. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m off the market. Did I mention he gave me a lecture about being naked?”
    Abigail snorted. “You lectured us. The guy sounds right up your alley.”
    “I would say he’s not into women.” Sasha reached for another cookie. “But the way he kissed you means he’s totally into women.”
    “Also, you’ve been off the market so long your expiration date is about to pass,” Abigail said. “I’m not saying marry the guy. See where it goes. You keep expecting to be swept off your feet. If that’s what you want then climb up a ladder first and then drop down. See if he has good enough reflexes to catch you before your butt hits the ground.” Abigail turned to Sasha. “He’s into women. No question.”
    “I’m not