Mesmerised, I watched him pipe the last of the frosting on the cake, deep in concentration. I'd already finished frosting mine thirty minutes ago, but Zachary was valiantly attempting to get a handle on icing bag.

Satisfied at last, he dropped the bag on the table. 'Yes! Candice, I've done it!' He looked like a little boy on christmas day, eager to open his presents. 'What do you think?'

Taking a moment to survey his efforts, I allowed my eyes gloss over his mistakes and just see his cake for what it was — a beginner's effort which showed a lot of promise. His iced roses were a little wonky, uneven and crushed, but they looked pretty all the same just like how each rose was different amongst its siblings in a garden.

'It's wonderful.'

Zachary didn't appear to hear me as he was comparing our two cakes. Smiling, he placed his face inches from my cake. 'How the hell do you make it look that perfect, Candice.' He shook his head, stroking his jaw with his hand.

My lips twitched as I struggled to suppress a grin. 'It's because I've had practice. How many cakes have I baked and decorated, Zach? Duh. It doesn't take a genius to work it out.'

I yelped in surprise when he reached over to pick up my hand. He looked down at my smaller hand in his bigger hand. On closure inspection, his nails were were well shaped, trimmed and clean. There wasn't much hair on the knuckles. They were smooth and very pale, barring the blue ink stains blotted on his skin like islands on a map. He was very warm too.

'It's because your hands are smaller and dainty. You can control your movements better than I can. More precision.' He held them up closer to his face, so that his mouth was inches away from my palm.

'Give me back my hand,' I said, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

He smiled complacently at me and shook his head. 'You know what I'd like you to do with this hand?' There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that couldn't be ignored in the context of the situation.

'Give you a slap?' I wiggled my fingers. He squeezed them in his own mitt.

'I want you to teach me how to place a message on the cake,' he said, glancing over at the chocolate sauce.

'Sure.' I was relieved when he let go of my hand. His touch was so comforting and reassuring. It didn't feel icky or strange like how it sometimes felt when some people shook your hand. His skin against mine seemed to crackle like a fire.

I bit my lip, trying to remember I had a boyfriend and he wouldn't be pleased if I was thinking about kissing Zachary in my dad's kitchen at that moment. I scooped some Belgian chocolate sauce into bag and drew a heart and wrote my name in an fun, curvy style.

Zachary watched from the side, nodding approvingly. 'Nicely done. My turn!'

Amused, I gave him the bag and wondered what he was going to write. I hoped he wasn't going to write a swear word because my dad had told me he might take some pictures of his cake. It seemed like Zachary had dad's stamp of approval since the allergy incident. Usually, Dad didn't really care for celebrities or wealthy people; some of the rich people he'd met back when he was starting out as a young chef in the fancy restaurants had not been too pleasant to him. He'd had first hand experience of their bizarre demands, but he had warned me it came with the territory.

However, he seemed really fond of Zachary, almost like he thought the guy could do no wrong in his eyes. It can't have been only because of him saving his life. Of course, Zachary had provided him with a delicious offer when it came to business related matters, but other than that it felt weird that Dad actually liked him and payed him compliments constantly.

Zachary ordered me to close my eyes ('no peaking') and I duly obliged.

'Are you done yet?' I was growing impatient, feeling a tad foolish just standing there with my eyes closed as I counted to sixty in my head. The subtle scent of his cologne seemed to mix with the sugar and chocolate in the air. A rustling sound as though he was shifting through the decorating equipment on the table.

'Not yet,' he snapped. I grumbled under my breath and heard him laugh.

I allowed another minute to pass, before opening one of them. 'Look, Zach. I don't know what your up to but—'

Zachary was standing there just smiling down at me, pleasant and content as could be. His sense of calm and serenity surprised me; it was as though he was happy to be with me. 'So you don't always follow the rules.'

'Sometimes I like to break them just for fun,' I gulped. He was looking into my eyes intensely and I saw... emotion in them. What kind, I couldn't place, but as quick as it appeared on his face, the moment was broken when he quickly turned his attention to his cake. I followed his lead and gasped when I saw what he'd done.

He'd drawn a crude face with an unhappy downturned mouth and a set of pointy horns. The devil. Zachary winked at me when I gave him an exasperated look.

'I knew you'd like it,' he chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. 'Where's the tea and nibbles you promised earlier. I am absolutely exhausted! No wonder there aren't many famous male bakers.'