"It’s in the sink."

Luke glanced over at the sink. There was, indeed, a white substance in the sink. No bowl. Just sink.

"Tell you what," Luke drawled. "Why don’t I bring the cake over, mess it around a bit and then turn on the garbage disposal?"

"I have candles," Cash said indignantly.

"Stick them in the ice cream."

"C’mon, hombre. Where’s your sense of adventure? If we use the soup ladle for the icing, maybe we won’t drip too much on the floor."

Luke was dumping the first load of icing on the cake when he heard Carla’s voice call from the front door.

"Open up, big brother! My hands are full."

"Happy birthday, sis," Cash said, opening the door. "Look who’s here. He just happened to – watch it!"

Luke had a glimpse of shocked, blue-green eyes, then Carla was grabbing frantically for the limp pizza box she had been in the process of handing over to Cash when she had spotted Luke.

"Nice catch, schoolgirl," Luke drawled, watching Carla with a masculine hunger he would never admit, because there was nothing he would permit himself to do to assuage that hunger.

Except look at her. He allowed himself to do that, his eyes cataloguing every feature. Sun-streaked chestnut hair, eyes like pieces of the sea, a body whose curves she never flaunted – but they were there just the same, a promise of heat that had made him ache since she was sixteen. With the ease of long practice, Luke shunted his thoughts aside, concentrating on seeing Carla as what she was: his best friend’s kid sister.

"Pizza tastes better when you don’t have to comb it out of the rug with your teeth," Luke pointed out.

"I’ll take your word for it," Carla said, as though it had been a day rather than almost a year since she had been this close to Luke. "I’m partial to plates and tables myself."

"You used to be more adventurous."