by Kathy Love
That was good, right? Neither of them would be attracted to each other as per the orders of the adolescent boss girls.
Then he recalled how Poppy had looked in his dream and his intense reaction to her.
“A dream, buddy. Just a dream.”
Sighing, he decided it was time to get to work. Plus, he was starving.
Brunch was close to lunch, right?
CHAPTER 12
The sharp rap on the apartment door startled Poppy.
Who could that be? Most days she didn’t talk with anyone. She still had a few friends from graduate school. But they’d all be at work at ten-thirty on a Monday.
Maybe it was a courier with a new manuscript. Her boss, Donald, had called last evening to ask if she had time to pick up a little extra work. But usually Donald told her if he was sending something over.
She stretched as she stood. She’d been huddled over her current manuscript, trying to stay focused and on task.
Occasionally, other thoughts had crept in. How much she’d enjoyed having dinner with Killian last night. How odd it was that she’d talked to him about her parents. How distracting his smile was.
She shoved those thoughts aside over and over. Killian was a nice guy—nicer than she’d first thought. He’d been an interesting distraction. But now it was back to her routine. Her work, Daisy, the usual.
But all that sensible reasoning couldn’t stop something in her chest from doing a little flip as she opened the door to find Killian standing on the other side.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he answered back, his eyes scanning her body before they locked with hers.
Again her body reacted, her heart jumping a little, her skin prickling with awareness. Even though she couldn’t decipher what his sweeping look meant.
“I was wondering if you could show me someplace to pick up toiletries and a few clothes.”
This time, it was Poppy’s turn for her gaze to roam over him. He hadn’t shaved, she could see that. And he was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Actually, even from the day before that, now that she thought about it.
“What happened to your luggage?”
“Umm—the airline lost it.”
She frowned. “You flew?”
Not many people flew from Connecticut to Boston. Heck, that probably took longer than it did to drive. But she supposed someone might.
Clearly he had.
“I actually flew here from Sweden,” he said. “You know, visiting some family there. Some of my father’s family.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Wait. “But you said your mother’s family lived in Sweden.”
He paused for a second, then nodded. “That’s true. But some of my father’s family moved there too. Once he moved there.”
That made sense—she guessed.
“My father’s brother actually married my mother’s sister.”
“Really?” Poppy said. “That’s kind of romantic.”
“Is it?” His completely confused expression was so male. Of course he would have never considered that romantic.
She laughed, until she realized he was staring at her, his expression strange. And unreadable. She sobered.
“So you need a store?”
He glanced down at himself, then made a pained expression. “Yes. That would be good.”
She thought of the best place to send him. “Well, there is a strip mall one stop away on the T. On the red line. That should have everything you need.”
He frowned. “Aren’t you going to go with me?”
Poppy hesitated, thinking of that manuscript sitting only half completed on her desk. Playing hooky was so not her.
“Umm—Ginger can’t go with you?”
Killian frowned, not answering right away. “She’s sleeping. You know, because she worked—late.” “Right.”
“So you aren’t going to leave me on my own, are you?” He smiled then, that breathtaking smile she’d imagined more than a few times this morning.
She glanced back to her office as if somehow the actual manuscript would give her permission to take a little time off. Shocker—it didn’t.
“Surely you can take an hour or so to help out a traveler in need.”
She debated for a moment, then released a pent-up breath. “Sure. I can take a little while.”
He smiled then, but when her eyes locked on to the handsome curve of his sculpted lips, he sobered.
She didn’t quite understand his reaction, but she didn’t allow herself to ponder it. She’d definitely been doing enough pondering about him as it was.
“Let me grab a sweater.” She turned, leaving him in the doorway. She refused to look at the pages of manuscript as she hurried through her office to her bedroom.
She wasn’t going to feel guilty. After all, she was helping a friend—well, an acquaintance—in need.
See, Killian told himself as he watched Poppy dash off, no sexy Poppy of his dreams. She was clad just as he’d expected in another T-shirt. This one sported an image of Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat. Along with her T-shirt, she wore a pair of faded jeans and fuzzy black-and-white socks. Her long hair was knotted messily on the top of her head.
Not a hint of the sexy vixen of his dream. And that, he told himself, was because dream Poppy was just that. Imaginary. A strange, unexplainable creation of his unconscious mind.
So he shouldn’t give it another thought. Period. He would stay focused on finding her a man. That was the best plan for all of them.
“Okay. Ready.” She returned to the door wearing a gray cable-knit sweater with big buttons. On her feet, she wore sneakers that looked more appropriate for a small boy.
Definitely not his type, he told himself as he watched her lock her door. Then she turned and smiled at him. He caught a glimpse of her dimple, and just like that, his body reacted, seeming to vibrate with awareness.
Okay, she was cute. Adorable, even—in a whimsical way. But still not his type. And adorable would make it easier to find her a match.
“Do you think we could stop and get a bite to eat first?” he asked.
“Umm—sure,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Do you have anything in mind?”
Daisy did have a point. He needed to get Poppy somewhere where there were men to meet. He glanced at her, noticing how tendrils of her brown hair had escaped the barrette and curled against the pale skin of her neck. Something like a sharp jolt of electricity shot through him again, and he fought the urge to groan.
He had to get out of here. When he started finding women in bulky cardigans and little-boy sneakers attractive, it was getting pretty damned strange. He was starting to think the spell had actually addled his brain. Time to just pick some guy, control his thoughts—assuming he could—make him fall for Poppy, and then get the hell out of here.
“I want to go someplace busy.”
She gave him an odd look, then said, “That would be Smiley’s.”
Smiley’s. Of course, he’d be taking the cute, whimsical girl to a place called Smiley’s.
As Killian stepped through the door, he realized Smiley’s wasn’t at all like what he’d been picturing. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was quite trendy in a bohemian coffee shop sort of way. Like a Starbucks meets an upscale diner meets a cool baroque salon.
A fire blazed in an ornate fireplace, the flames reflecting off the gilded walls and highly polished wood floors. Sofas upholstered in rich-colored velvets were situated in clusters here and there. Round tables and elegant chairs lined the walls.
Poppy led him to one of the tables, taking a seat.
“They have great omelets,” she told him, opening her menu. “And delicious waffles.”
He picked up his own menu but didn’t open it. Instead, he perused the place. Definitely an assortment of men. Some in suits. Some more casually dressed. A few ate and read the paper. Others sat with their coffees, talking on cell phones or typing away on computers. This was definitely a trendy hotspot
. There should be plenty of prospective true loves for Poppy here.
He noticed a man just a few tables away. He was dressed in business casual, a decent shirt with a tie. He had a briefcase open on the chair beside him and papers spread out on the table.
His hair was trimmed in a typical business-guy style, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. His build was average. A good steady sort of guy. He could work.
But Killian’s attention turned to another guy. He sat on one of the sofas, reading the paper. This guy wore a simple button-down shirt with jeans and boots. Maybe a little more laid-back than the briefcase guy. That might be a better fit for Poppy.
Killian’s gaze moved still to another man sitting by the fire, talking on his BlackBerry. The cut of his suit stated he had some money. Probably some power in his job. He was a little older than the other two. Hmm, that might be good for Poppy too.
Just pick one. The object here was to get this woman a boyfriend. Do it and be done.
But still he didn’t choose.
Poppy frowned, watching Killian. He’d been the one to say he was starving, yet he hadn’t even cracked open the menu. Instead, he’d been looking around, his attention going from one person to another. He’d tilt his head, narrow his eyes as if he was trying to decide something very important. Then his gaze would move on again.
“Are you all right?” she finally asked, after watching him for several minutes. “Didn’t you say you were starving?”
He blinked at her, then seemed to come back from wherever he was.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” He opened his menu, reading down the list of delicious breakfast and lunch items.
She returned her attention to her own menu. When she looked up again, his attention was no longer on the menu. Again he surveyed the room as if searching for someone.
But he couldn’t be expecting to see anyone he knew. So what was he doing?
Then the realization hit her like ice water thrown in her face. He was searching for women to meet. A potential friend, lover, wife. Hadn’t he told her that was what he wanted to accomplish in Boston?
Suddenly, Poppy didn’t feel hungry either. Which was stupid, she told herself. He’d already told her that a relationship was something he very much wanted.
And it wasn’t like this was some impromptu date between them. That was stupid.
She didn’t want that anyway. As much as he wanted a relationship, she didn’t want one.
She glanced at him. And definitely not with him.
Yet, before she could stop herself, she asked, “See anything you like?”
She tried not to wince at her tone, doubting he’d miss the annoyance there.
His attention turned back to her, but instead of giving her a look of speculation, or even just answering with his usual tactless honesty, he looked back to his menu.
“The waffles do sound good. That’s what I’m getting.” He set aside the menu. “What about you?”
She looked at him for a moment, trying to decide if he really hadn’t been checking out women. Maybe he hadn’t. And thankfully, he didn’t seem to be at all aware of her peevishness.
She looked back to her menu, feeling a little silly for getting worked up. Couldn’t the guy just appreciate the cool décor without her getting all offended?
“I think I’ll have the waffles too. With fresh berries.”
This time, when she looked up, Killian was staring at her. Again he had that intense look she’d noticed earlier. An expression she didn’t understand at all.
“What was your old boyfriend like?”
CHAPTER 13
Before she could answer, a waitress arrived to take their orders. Poppy vaguely recalled ordering a coffee and waffles. She wasn’t even sure if she’d asked for the fresh berries.
Killian ordered too, seemingly oblivious to her stunned reaction.
But as soon as the waitress left, he turned back to her, eyebrows raised, clearly awaiting her response.
“My old boyfriend?” Why would he suddenly want to know about Adam?
“Yes, you said you lived with him. What was he like?”
Poppy shook her head. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to talk about him. Adam had been the love of her life. Her first serious boyfriend, the person she thought she was going to grow old with.
“He was …”
She wasn’t going to talk about this.
“He was a nice guy.”
“So you like nice?”
Poppy shrugged. “I don’t think many women actually like mean.”
Adam had been mean at the end. She hadn’t liked that at all. No, not mean exactly. More like distant, cold, absent in the relationship. But she’d held on, hoping he’d change back to the man she’d loved and so terribly afraid she’d lose another person who was important to her. In the end, she’d had to let go.
“I guess that is true,” Killian said, drawing her attention back to him, away from a memory she’d rather not recall. “But some women do like bad boys, right?”
“I guess.” Why were they talking about this?
“But definitely not you?”
She stared at him. “Not really.”
“And what about income? And age? Any preferences?”
Poppy didn’t answer for a moment, studying his face. His expression was expectant, his eyes bright with interest, as if her answers were of the utmost importance to him.
“Why are you asking me all this?”
He straightened, for the first time in the conversation appearing a little uncertain, like maybe his line of questioning was odd.
“It’s always nice to know what a woman wants in a man,” he said, shrugging as if suddenly her answers weren’t of much importance to him.
The waitress returned, placing steaming mugs of coffee in front of each of them. Killian took a sip of his, then turned, suddenly finding the painting on the wall above their table inordinately fascinating.
She added cream to her coffee until the dark liquid was pale brown. She reached for a couple packets of sugar. What had spurred on that line of questioning?
She stirred her coffee, puzzled. Then she realized what must have motivated him. Of course. How stupid of her. He’d been asking her about preferences, using her as a barometer to understand what women wanted in general. Maybe because of the loss of his own fiancée. And probably to understand what his new love interest might want.
He didn’t want to make the same mistakes again.
“I like men who are intelligent,” she said.
He immediately turned his attention back to her.
“And a good sense of humor is a must,” she added.
“Okay,” Killian said, nodding as if he was making a mental checklist in his head.
“And good looking never hurts,” she said with a smile. He definitely had that one in the bag. “And interesting is good. You know, not just run-of-the-mill.”
Killian listened to her list. Run-of-the-mill. That ruled out the guy with the average haircut and average build he’d been considering. The older man in the corner was definitely the best-looking guy in the restaurant. But there was one guy with longish hair who looked the most interesting. Damn, this was confusing.
“He has to like kids and pets. And have a great laugh.”
Killian frowned. How the hell was he supposed to find out half this shit? What did he know about a guy’s laugh anyway?
This was going to be impossible. A great laugh? Yeah, impossible.
“But I’m just one woman,” she finally said, after taking a sip of her now very creamy, very sweetened coffee. “You will find a woman who loves all the things you have to offer.”
Killian paused, the coffee mug halfway to his mouth. What woman? Then he realized she was referring to his declaration about wanting to find a wife.
He nodded, setting down his mug. “I hope you are right.”
“I am. You’re a catch,” she told him with a smile, then reached for another packet of sugar.
He watched as she added the fourth sugar to her coffee, the spoon clinking on the ceramic.
“You think I’m a catch?”
She smiled then, that little dimple appearing. “Of course.”
Something warm spread through his chest, a strange sensation that felt like pleasure, but more than that.
He didn’t trust it.
He took a long swallow of his coffee, letting the burn of the hot liquid replace the other warmth in his chest. Then he looked back at the other single men in the restaurant.
The one on the couch with the goatee and boots. That was his choice. Done.
Focusing on the man, he sent his thoughts through the air like radio waves directly to the man’s brain. The man immediately lowered his paper, frowning, a slightly confused look in his eyes.
Turn and look this way.
The man shifted on the sofa cushion. Well, apparently Killian’s powers still worked—that was a relief. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t work on Poppy, but at least being able to control her love interest would make this crazy task only half as difficult.
Become aware of her.
Killian glanced at Poppy so the man would know whom he was supposed to notice.
The man turned further, craning his neck to see Poppy. She was in the midst of testing her coffee. She wrinkled her nose and reached for yet another sugar. Something about the action was really quite cute.
Find her cute. No, Killian amended, studying her pretty mouth and soulful dark eyes, find her beautiful.
The man stared at her, clearly not finding Killian’s order too difficult to obey.
Come over and speak to her.
The man folded his paper and tossed it down on the table in front of him. Then he rose and headed directly to their table.
Killian watched his approach, wondering at the strange feeling of dread tightening the muscles in his shoulders and making his teeth clench.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
Poppy looked up at the man, her dark eyes wide as if a strange man talking to her was uncommon and a little startling.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man said, offering a reassuring, friendly smile.