own clock and her own rules, so she was furious that her body had betrayed her.
There should be a rule somewhere that people who were afraid of needles didn’t develop insulin-dependent diabetes. There should be another rule that chocoholics didn’t develop diabetes. There should be, but there wasn’t.
As much as she would like to ignore the intrusion of her recent diagnosis, Senada couldn’t. She knew her mother had died of complications from diabetes. Either from ignorance or neglect, her mother hadn’t been conscientious about her health. Senada had inherited her mother’s height, her expressive brown eyes and thick, black hair. Unfortunately, she’d also inherited the diabetes.
The doctors assured her, however, that she could live a long, healthy life if she took care of herself. She’d been careless about that area in the past. Her idea of taking care of herself had been luxuriating in a bubble bath and sleeping until noon on her day off every now and then.
A healthy diet was a necessity now. A regular schedule was a given. She stretched her shoulders against the sudden sensation of being tied down. The needles and the lack of chocolate were tough to endure, but the most difficult for her so far was the loss of freedom.
She sighed and made a face at the mirror. After extensive negotiations with her dietician, they had found a way for her to have a chocolate dessert once a week. And tonight was the night for her devil’s food cupcake filled with chocolate cream.
Senada brushed her hair from her face and smiled wryly. Meat, vegetables and a small portion of grains first, but then the cupcake. “Better than sex,” she murmured in sweet anticipation.
Forty-five minutes later, she’d lit a candle, put soft music on to play in the background and had eaten her vegetables. She removed her empty plate from the table.
The moment had arrived. Her heart beat faster. Her mouth began to water. Taking a deep breath, she stripped off the cellophane wrapper. It had been over a month.
The doorbell rang.
Senada sighed, giving a backward glance toward the door. She contemplated quickly biting the top off of the cupcake, but was determined not to rush this rare, small pleasure. She left the table and pulled open the door to Troy Pendleton.
She tried to close it, but his big foot prevented her.
“C’mon, Sin, give me a break. I’m here to apologize.”
That gave her pause.
“Sort of,” he added.
She gave the door another push.
“I brought chocolates.”
She opened the door and stared. “Chocolates?”
He gave a slow grin as if he’d just shot two through a basketball hoop. It was a grin designed to get past a woman’s defenses. Other women, she thought, would find that grin appealing. “You mentioned an apology?” she prompted, noting the box of candy.
“Are you going to invite me in?” He looked past her.
No. “I’m a little busy right now. I—” She broke off when she spotted her neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, running toward them at a breakneck pace. Senada had met a few of her neighbors, but Mrs. Rodriguez had been the most welcoming. The effusive, nurturing woman had even brought her homemade bread.
“My husband! My husband! He is dead!” Then she tore into a flurry of Spanish.
Senada shared a look of alarm with Troy, and all three rushed to the Rodriguez’s house. At first glance, Mr. Rodriguez did look dead, sitting limply in his chair with his head propped back and his mouth open. But Troy quickly determined the man was breathing. In the back of her mind, she noticed and appreciated Troy’s quick, calm manner. While Senada comforted her neighbor and called for an ambulance, Troy located a bottle behind the chair.
Apparently, the man had mixed alcohol with his medication. He would need medical attention but would be okay. By the time the ambulance arrived, Mr. Rodriguez was awake but groggy. Senada and Troy left while Mrs. Rodriguez read her husband the riot act in Spanish.
“I appreciate your help,” she told him as he followed her inside her house. Her antipathy toward Troy had faded. How could she hate him when he’d allowed Mrs. Rodriguez to blubber all over him?
“For a minute there, I didn’t know who was going to need medical treatment more, Mrs. Rodriguez or her husband.”
Senada grinned. “She’s very emotional.” She glanced at the table. The candle was gutted and the music had stopped. The lone cupcake, however, remained.
She shook her head. “Well, this has been an exciting evening.”
Troy nodded. “Yeah, I’m starvin’.” He picked up her cupcake. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Senada watched in horror as he took a bite. “Wait!”
He paused, glancing at her, then the cupcake. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “A little stale, but nothing’s wrong with it.”
Senada bit back a whimper. She’d only bought one cupcake because she couldn’t stand the temptation of having several around the house.
Troy swallowed another bite. “I apologize about the conversation with Juan, but I had to get him off my back.” He didn’t like explaining himself but had concluded it was necessary if he didn’t want any more beer dumped on his head. “And this way, I figured I could get him to leave you alone too. Sort of kill two birds with one stone.” He took another bite and polished off the cupcake.
He glanced at Senada. She was wearing a strange expression. If he didn’t know better, he would swear she was going to cry. “Something wrong?”
She stared at the empty paper cupcake liner.
“Sin?”
Her gaze met his. “I want my cupcake back.”
Troy blinked. “Your cupcake?”
She nodded. “I want it back. I’ve waited over four weeks to eat that cupcake, and I want it back.”
“Four weeks,” he echoed. “It wasn’t that stale.”
“I want my cupcake.”
Troy shot her a wary glance. The woman was loony. She must be on some strange kind of diet that was affecting her brain, he thought, then assessed her curves with masculine appreciation. “You don’t need to be on a diet. Why don’t you eat some of the chocolate candy I brought you?”
She hesitated, then sighed. “Let me see them.”
Troy lifted the lid off the box and presented them to her.
Senada closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She looked as if she were having an erotic experience. “They smell wonderful,” she whispered.
The sensual expression on her face tugged at something inside him. Her whisper heated his skin. He pulled at his collar.
She carefully selected three pieces of candy and set
