by Judy Duarte
As he carried the box of kittens out of the office, Emily slipped her hand in his, making him feel as though he’d done the right thing—rather than something stupid.
Then she gave his hand a little squeeze, as though they were a team.
A team Brett knew better than to join.
Caitlin opened the passenger door of the Explorer, hoping to catch a better breeze. It had grown hot waiting in the parking lot.
She glanced at her wristwatch. What was keeping them? Had they found Fred?
Tired of waiting and wondering what was going on, she climbed from the SUV to join Brett and Emily, in spite of her allergies. But before she could take two steps, she spotted her handsome neighbor and her daughter walking out the office door. Brett carried a cardboard box with air holes in his left hand.
Oh, thank goodness. They’d found Fred.
Emily, who was grinning from ear to ear, was practically skipping along the sidewalk. “Guess what, Mommy. Brett bought two new kitties, Fluffy and Princess.”
She glanced at the rugged Navy helicopter pilot who wore an interesting expression—one she’d describe as a sheepish scowl. He helped Emily into the back seat, set the box next to her, then slid behind the wheel.
When he caught Caitlin’s gaze, she said, “I thought you were just going to look for Fred.”
He shrugged. “Emily fell in love with these little guys. And heck, it’s good to see her smiling again, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But you’ll have to keep them at Greg’s.” She buckled her seat belt, hoping her allergies didn’t kick up on the ride home.
As Emily talked through the little holes to the new kittens, Caitlin snuck a glance at Brett. He obviously wasn’t a cat lover. And he’d agreed to adopt two kittens, just to make her daughter happy. “Thank you. That was awfully sweet of you.”
He caught her gaze, that sheepish expression touching her heart. “I had to do something.”
“But what if…” She glanced in the rearview mirror, then back at him, then spelled out, “F-R-E-D C-O-M-E-S B-A-C-K?”
“I…uh, hadn’t thought about that.” He looked over his shoulder at Emily and the box that contained the kittens. “I’ll have to deal with that when the time comes, I guess.”
Before she could respond, she sneezed.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks.”
Ten minutes and three sneezes later, they pulled into the complex, where several of the neighbors had already begun setting plastic chairs and portable tables on the lawn near the rec room. Gerald and another man fiddled with Tiki lights.
“What’s going on?” Brett asked.
“We’re having a community luau. It’s a lot of fun. And the food is incredible, since it’s a potluck.” She flashed him a smile. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
He scrunched his face. “To a potluck? I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
She didn’t know exactly why she wanted to encourage his attendance, but she did. “It’ll give you a chance to meet other people who live in the complex.”
He didn’t respond, and she suspected he wasn’t one who regularly socialized with neighbors.
“What’s holding you back?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I haven’t lived in a neighborhood for years. And those community functions never interested me.”
“Oh, come on. What are you going to do? Stay home and watch us eat, drink and be merry from the window?”
“I guess I could go buy something ready-made.”
“I’m making a potato salad for Emily and I. Why don’t I make something for you to take?”
“I hate to ask you to do that.”
“It’s no trouble.” And it wasn’t. She loved to cook. And she’d wanted to try out Mary’s Texas Chocolate Cake recipe.
She sneezed again, and her eyes watered.
“Bless you twice. It looks like the cats are playing havoc with your allergies.”
“You’re right. Even though they’re in a box, we’re in close quarters.”
“I’ll get the cats out of here.” Brett climbed from the SUV, then opened Emily’s door, took the box and helped the child out of her car seat.
“Can I go with you?” Emily asked Brett. “I want to show Princess and Fluffy where the water and food and litter box is.”
“Do you mind?” Brett caught Caitlin’s gaze. “I’ll bring her home in a few minutes.”
“All right.” She watched Brett carry the box of kittens and lead her daughter to Greg’s condo. The man was proving to be every bit as good a neighbor and friend as Greg had been. Maybe more so.
Trouble was, she hadn’t been the least bit attracted to Greg.
After getting Fluffy and Princess settled and allowing Emily to play with the kitties she considered her pets, Brett walked the little girl home. As they entered Caitlin’s condo, which seemed homier than ever, the aroma of something sweet baking in the oven snagged Brett’s attention, as well as tweaked his appetite. Something chocolate maybe?
“Mommy,” Emily called out, “we’re home.”
“I’m in the kitchen,” her mother replied.
They found Caitlin standing at the counter, wearing the same pale green sundress that set off the color of her eyes, making them a deep-sea green. She’d pulled her hair up in a twist, using a brass clip to hold the golden strands. And she’d slipped off her shoes. She looked comfortable, at home in the kitchen. A nester, who was too damn appealing, and so not his type.
She looked up from a pile of chopped pickles and favored them both with a smile. “How did the kitties like their new home?”
“They like Fred’s climby thing and his toys,” Emily said. “And I’m sure he won’t mind sharing with them.”
Caitlin glanced at Brett, and he knew they were both questioning whether Fred would return.
“He’s going to be so surprised when he comes home. And Princess and Fluffy will be happy, too. They were so sad when I had to leave.”
Her mother smiled. “Maybe you can see them later today, after your nap.”
“Then I better hurry up and go to sleep so I can wake up,” Emily said. Then she looked at Brett. “Will you still be here?”
“Probably not, but you can come by later to see the cats.” He glanced at Caitlin. “That is, if your mother says it’s okay.”
So much for hoping to put some distance between him and his neighbors.
Caitlin brushed a kiss on Emily’s head. “We’ll see. Why don’t you wash your hands, then go lay down.”
As Emily left the room, Brett figured it was time for him to cut out. But for some reason, his feet wouldn’t move. The coziness of Caitlin’s home, the tantalizing aroma from the oven held him steady. And he hoped to hell that was all that had a hold on him.
“Something sure smells good,” he said.
“It’s a chocolate cake. And that reminds me…” She turned on the oven light, then peered into the window on the door. The pale green fabric of her dress caressed the gentle curve of her hips. And the hem lifted in back, giving him a glimpse of shapely legs. “It’s nearly done.”
As she turned to face him, he glanced at the countertop, so she wouldn’t know he’d been looking at her, admiring her curves, her figure. Letting his thoughts go in a direction they shouldn’t.
“The cake is your contribution to the luau.” Her smile lit up the warm kitchen, making his heart constrict in a goofy way.
“Thanks.” He studied her for a moment, the way a strand of hair brushed her cheek, the way she made chopping pickles look interesting. Enticing.
He ought to excuse himself, but for some reason, he wasn’t ready to go home to an empty house. “What’s with the community luau?”
“It’s an annual event put on by the homeowners association. They roast a pig in the ground and provide Hawaiian music from speakers in the clubhouse. And the residents all chip in with salads and desserts.” She returned to chopping pickles, then took a fork and
checked the potatoes boiling in a large pot on the stove. “I hope these are going to be okay. I started them before we went to the animal shelter and turned them off before they were done.”
When she picked up two potholders and tried to lift the pot, he stopped her. “Let me do that.”
She stepped out of the way, and he poured off the water for her. A blast of steam rose from the sink.
“Now what?” he asked.
“I’ll put them in the colander until they cool off a bit.” She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a blue plastic strainer, then took a pair of tongs from the drawer.
“I’ll do that.” He wasn’t exactly sure where his words came from.
She studied him for a moment, as though his efforts to be helpful had surprised her, then handed him the metal tongs.
As he reached for the utensil, their fingers touched, lingered. A shiver of heat shimmied up his arm, stimulating his pulse.
But he shook it off the best he could and placed the steaming hot potatoes into the strainer. When he’d finished, he turned and faced her. “Now what?”
She crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “You want to help me cook?”
Well, not that he was consciously aware of. But something about being here—with her—felt right. And he’d be damned if he knew why.
So he wagered a guess. “I don’t really know my way around the kitchen, but if you gave me an easy job, something Emily might be able to do, it would make me feel more like a real contributor to the potluck.”
“Then by all means, feel free to wash the celery and cut it into pieces.” Her playful smile struck a goofy chord in his chest, making him feel a little too domestic for comfort.
But heck. He didn’t have anything to do at home. And if he went to the potluck, he would eat his fill. So he might as well help her make the salad.
After chopping the celery, they worked on the potatoes together. And then he watched as she mixed the ingredients in a large bowl.
She added salt and pepper, then dug in a spoon and offered him a taste.
He allowed her to feed him, which was kind of weird and nice at the same time.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s good.”
“We’ll let it sit for awhile so the flavors can blend.” Then she reached for the plastic wrap, covered the bowl and placed it in the refrigerator.
He wasn’t sure why it fascinated him to watch her move about the kitchen. It’s not like he found cooking to be anything special. He was a take-out guy. Fast food. Anything that allowed him to stay away from an empty house.
When the timer went off, she removed a chocolate sheet cake from the oven.
Ooh boy, did it smell good.
“While the cake cools a bit, I’ll show you how to make fudge frosting.” She flashed him a grin that would tempt even a man without a sweet tooth. Then she proceeded to cook a chocolate frosting on the stove, adding chopped nuts. And when she’d finished, she offered him a taste.
But it wasn’t the chocolate on the spoon he wanted to taste. It was the cook holding him prisoner in her kitchen.
As she lifted the frosting to his lips, he took hold of her hand, guiding the spoon into his mouth. But their gazes locked, their movements slowed. Sexual awareness settled around him. And around her, too, he suspected.
As he opened his mouth to take a bite, her lips parted, too—as though she was feeding herself at the same time.
An overwhelming urge to kiss her settled over him, and he almost succumbed to temptation. But he didn’t.
Wow. It was hot in here. And not from the heat of the oven.
“How does it taste?” she asked, her voice softer than it had been before.
It tasted too damned good—like something that wasn’t healthy if one overindulged. “Delicious,” he told her, before stepping back, away from temptation. “Well, I’d better go. I’ll, uh, see you at the luau.”
“All right.”
As he turned to leave, his hunger raged for a woman he suspected was much sweeter than sugar and chocolate. But he wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t indulge, wouldn’t taste.
Because if he kissed her, he wasn’t sure what would happen next. And that was enough to completely scare the hell out of a guy who’d once been a hellion.
A guy who valued his rebellious streak and his desire to fly solo.
Chapter Five
As the sun dropped over the bay, the residents of the Ocean Breeze condominium complex began to gather on the lawn.
They either stood in small, intimate groups or sat at the tables and chairs the luau committee had set up.
Brett kept a polite distance. He’d always felt like an outsider at neighborhood get-togethers like this. Still, he listened to the pleasantries and shared laughter and made small talk whenever necessary.
When he’d been married to Kelly, she’d always gotten excited about summer block parties, those social gatherings the neighbors used to hold in the cul-de-sac of Periwinkle Lane.
Did they still drag out lawn chairs and enjoy a glass of iced tea or diet soda, while they watched their kids ride big wheel bicycles and roller-skate on the sidewalks?
Probably so.
Kelly had always been a ringleader when it came to things like that.
He glanced at a group of boys playing catch on the lawn, each wearing a variety of different baseball caps. All Little Leaguers, he suspected.
A couple of men—dads, he assumed—joined in the game, giving the kids pointers.
Brett had given up organized sports as a boy, but not because he didn’t like to play on a ball team. His parents hadn’t been able to keep their animosity out of the stands or keep their arguments in the courtroom. His dad’s frozen glares and his mother’s snide comments had always clouded the joy of sports, mocking the idea of fair play and healthy competition his coach had tried to instill in him and his teammates.
And quite frankly, his folks had embarrassed the hell out of him.
If they’d ever figured out why he’d refused to play baseball anymore, they hadn’t said.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts and scanned the festive lawn area. The boys weren’t the only ones having fun.
Emily sat near a yellow-flowered hibiscus plant, playing dolls with two other girls, both of whom appeared to be older than her—school-age.
Justin’s age.
He wasn’t sure why he’d never felt comfortable at these family-type functions before. But he certainly knew why he didn’t like them now. They slammed into his memories, tore open his gut.
“I got it, I got it,” a boy about Justin’s age yelled as he reached to snag a pop-up. The grin he wore when he caught the ball was priceless.
A real gut-wrenching heart-warmer.
Brett grabbed a beer from one of the coolers near the roped off area where the pork roasted underground. He popped the top and took a swig.
The scent of Hawaiian-barbecued meat mingled with the ocean breeze, taunting his appetite and making him wonder when they would eat.
Soon, probably. At least he hoped so. He was ready to call it a day.
He surveyed the crowd until he spotted Caitlin, something he’d been doing all afternoon. And he’d be damned if he knew why. Maybe because she was the only one he really knew in the complex.
She laughed as she worked along with two other women, lining up bowls and platters of food on a long table. He could tell she was happy, that she was comfortable and liked her neighbors.
A couple of guys in their late twenties, who were in a group playing volleyball on the grass near the laundry room, had been eyeing her throughout the late afternoon. Every once in a while, they glanced at Emily.
Did they see the child as a hindrance to a romantic relationship?
Brett did, but not because he didn’t like kids or didn’t want to raise another man’s child. He wanted to steer clear of potential parenting disputes.
Of course, Caitlin said Emily’s father
had never been a part of his daughter’s life, which left Caitlin to raise the girl on her own. But even though Emily’s father was out of the picture, that didn’t mean Brett was a family man. So he’d have to steer clear of a romantic entanglement with the single mother—no matter how pretty, how attractive he found her.
Apparently oblivious to the male interest she’d sparked, Caitlin left the food table and moved easily through the crowd. Again, Brett was drawn to her smile, to the lilt of her voice as she spoke or laughed.
She wore a cream-colored sweatshirt and a pair of lime green shorts—nothing fancy. Yet she was the most attractive woman here. A nurse, a good cook. A homemaker.
Without a doubt, Caitlin would make some lucky man a great wife—if the guy was inclined to think of himself as family material.
“Hey there, young fellow.”
Brett turned to see a gray-haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of slacks approach.
“We haven’t been officially introduced,” the seventy-something man said, “but I’m Gerald Blackstone, retired United States Marines. I hear you’re a Navy man.”
Brett introduced himself, and they shook hands.
“Caitlin says you’re a buddy of Greg’s,” Gerald said.
Brett nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And that you’re a helicopter pilot and fly Sea Hawks.”
“That’s right.”
Gerald gave a slow whistle, then he grinned broadly, and his blue eyes lit up. “I’m going to have to take you down to the V.F.W. hall with me someday. When Greg’s in town, he and I go have a couple of drinks with some of the old-timers and shoot the breeze.”
Brett had always enjoyed talking about aircraft and sharing military stories, especially with veterans. “Sounds like fun.”
Unable to help himself, he stole another glance at Caitlin and found her at a table, where she sipped a glass of wine and talked to a dark-haired woman who held a toddler in her arms.
What was with this crazy fascination? The attachment he felt, as though this had been a date and they’d arrived together.
“Caitlin is a special lady,” Gerald said.