And who was he to decide what her family wanted? Her mother and father thought he walked on water. Megan was half in love with him and Dan was his best friend. Which Brightwell didn’t want her involved with him?
“Oh, really. You make a decent living, you’re not bad looking, and you have an above-average trendy car. What’s not to like?”
“You deserve someone better, Cass.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?” Although her last choice hadn’t been especially smart.
“We don’t always know what’s best for us.”
Then a worse thought occurred to her. She’d always felt she and Kyle had connected on that date all those years ago. Instinct had told her they’d gone a step above friendship before he’d pulled back. But maybe he was a good actor. Maybe the whole evening had been tedious and he was embarrassed to be seen in public with her. Maybe he didn’t want to come right out and say he couldn’t care about her if she was the last woman on earth. Maybe he was trying not to hurt her feelings. If so, she needed to know. She’d already wasted enough of her life mooning over Kyle. It was past time for a booster shot.
“Did you want to call me or not?” she asked.
He glanced down at her, then to his left, and pointed to the large rock formation they passed for the second time. “As per our previous verbal contract, I am no longer obligated to talk about me.”
It wasn’t just about him. And now that she’d raised the question, she felt as if she couldn’t drop it. She also sensed she wasn’t going to get an answer. At least not now.
“Very slick, Counselor. Have it your way. In fact I don’t want to talk about you anymore. You’re pretty boring.”
“No kidding.” He laughed.
“I wasn’t joking.”
An uneasy silence slipped over them as they walked along the shore. They were almost back to their starting place when a particularly large wave broke and rushed up, catching Cassie off guard. It washed over her feet and wet her sweatpants to the knee.
“Mercy, that’s cold,” she shrieked, pulling the elastic hem up. “My ankles hurt.”
“Wimp.”
“Them’s fightin’ words.” She was still miffed about the way he’d shut down and refused to talk. Raising her hands, she curled her fingers into fists, then bobbed and weaved in front of him.
Without warning, Kyle scooped her up in his arms. “I don’t have to fight. All I have to do is throw you in the ocean. And I can because I’m bigger.”
“You wouldn’t.” All the same, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, meeting his amused gaze. “If I go in, so do you.”
“Is that a dare?”
“What if it is?”
“I never could resist a dare.”
She leaned to the side, looked at the water and back up at him. “Then, of course it isn’t a dare. Now put me down, please.”
“As the lady wishes.” He made a sudden move as if he was going to drop her.
She squealed and gripped him tighter. “You are going to hell, Kyle Stratton. Now put me down.”
She’d never meant anything less. If she’d known it felt so good to be in his arms, she’d have let him throw her in the ocean a long time ago. Over and over. Just for the brief pleasure of having him hold her. She was so pathetic.
“I suppose down means dry land?” he asked.
“Please,” she managed to say.
“Spoilsport,” he mumbled as he set her on her feet and held on to her arm until she was steady.
The touch of his fingers on her bare skin scorched her clear down to her soul. If she ever saw his mother, she would be sure not to thank her for sending him here. Her intention to spend time at the summer house hadn’t included a painful trip down memory lane. She was angry with him, but more annoyed with herself for bringing it up in the first place.
“It’s time I was getting back,” she said.
“Got a hot date?”
She laughed. “I just moved back. I don’t work as fast as the legendary Kyle Stratton.”
“I’m not fast.”
“That’s not what I heard,” she scoffed. “For you and my brother the duplex is like seduction central.”
They trudged back through the sand to the sidewalk and headed up Linden Avenue.
“What have you heard?”
“Rumor has it that within minutes of meeting a woman, you can charm a phone number and a date, usually at your place, where seduction and dinner, not necessarily in that order, soon follow.”
“Dan’s lying.”
“About him or you? I’m curious about the step-by-step process you guys use to get from point A to point B with a woman.”
He slid her a wry look. “I’m not going to dignify that statement with a response. Suffice it to say tales of my—our—exploits are grossly exaggerated.”
“And I’m not going to dignify that with a retort.”
Thank goodness, they were finally back. At the bottom of the duplex stairs, Cassie tried to stomp the sand from her feet, but it was wet and sticky. Not wanting to track it inside, she grabbed the hose and turned on the water to rinse her feet.
“Hey, I need some of that, too,” Kyle said, glancing down.
Cassie looked at the hose, then at him, and couldn’t resist. She turned up the water, then aimed the nozzle in his direction, soaking him.
“Hey!” he cried, holding up his hands. “That’s cold!”
“You said you needed some cold water.”
Not that a cooling off from time spent with her was necessary. Apparently she was eminently resistible and the only one whose body temperature urgently needed lowering. She leveled the stream of water at his face.
He put his hands up. “I’m warning you, Cass—”
“Devil made me do it,” she said, backing away as he took a step toward her.
He lunged forward. Battling past the spray, he easily wrestled the hose away from her, dousing her from head to toe in retaliation.
“Uncle,” she cried, turning her back. “I give up.”
“Loser has to fix dinner.”
She glanced over her shoulder. He was shutting off the water, so she pivoted toward him. “Are you implying there was some sort of contest to which I admitted defeat and now I have to pay up?”
“Yeah.”
He straightened and she stood in front of him, squeezing the excess water out of her sopping ponytail. “First of all, I’m not a loser. I simply decided to stop fighting. Second, when there’s a wager, it has to be verbalized ahead of time. I didn’t invite you to dinner.”
“Then let me invite myself.”
“Okay.” She was so pathetically easy. But this was also an opportunity. “But there are conditions.”
“Name them.”
“Only two. The first, we keep it simple. Barbecue steaks and throw together a salad?”
“Done.”
“Second, you provide a simple demonstration of the Stratton seduction style—how you get from point A to point B with a woman.”
He shook his head and droplets of water sparkled like diamonds in his dark hair then fell on his already soaked shirt. If there was a male wet-T-shirt contest, he would win hands down. The impressive muscles of his chest and harnessed strength in his upper arms were clearly outlined.
“Uh-uh. No way.”
Cassie’s cheeks burned. Humiliation wasn’t any easier now than it had been all those years ago. But this time she had maturity on her side and wasn’t willing to roll over and forget it. This was the new Cassie who didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and be sorry she hadn’t pushed the advantage when she’d had it. She’d opened a can of worms with her question. Maybe because it was time to settle the past before she could embrace her future. Bottom line—she wanted to know what she’d missed out on.
“I’m not saying go all the way,” she explained, squeezing the water out of her sweatshirt to hide the fact that in spite of her resolve, her hands were shaking nervously. “Just set the mood an
d tell me what you would do.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Curiosity. I’d like to know what you would do—if you were attempting to seduce me.”
“If I refuse, does that mean you won’t feed me?” he asked, raising one dark eyebrow.
“Yes.” She wrung out the hem of her T-shirt, to minimize her dripping. Then she walked up the stairs and wiped her bare feet on the welcome mat.
The duplex had a single outside door that opened into a shared foyer. The Brightwell unit was to the right and Kyle’s to the left. Cassie let herself in and Kyle followed. She unlocked her unit and opened the door. Instantly the overpowering smell of paint hit her and she coughed then waved her hand in front of her face.
“You need to open the windows and air out the place,” Kyle told her.
“You think? Thanks for the tip. That would never have occurred to me,” she said.
“Looks like you’re going to have to pay that bet off at my place,” he said.
“It wasn’t a bet. And I’d be happy to have dinner at your place.” She smiled up at him. “And may I say, nice move. It’s just like Dan said. Within minutes, phone number and dinner at your place. So begins Seduction 101.”
“Only dinner. A man has to eat. No seduction.”
Cassie chose to ignore him. “I’ll clean up, air out my place, and be back with the stuff for dinner.”
Anticipation coursing through her, she turned away from him. Where were the stiletto heels and little black dress when you really needed them?
“This is a fine mess,” Kyle muttered to himself.
Cassie would be there any minute and he hoped her request for a play-by-play on seduction had been forgotten or was nothing more than a joke, because he had a big problem.
From the moment he’d seen her again, in cutoffs, tank top and paint, he’d wanted her in his bed. Walking along the beach with her had been like a stroll down memory lane with his security blanket. It should have put her firmly back in honorary little sister status, but instead had only cranked up his need. Why hadn’t he called her again?
He’d fought the urge for weeks after taking her to that football game. She’d been fun and funny. For the first time he’d seen her as more than Dan’s little sister and he’d felt it could be the start of something big. Until Dan’s ultimatum. Losing the friendship wasn’t an option—not then, not now.
But seeing Cassie again and hearing her question had stirred up memories, had increased his simmering dissatisfaction. She’d said it herself—he wasn’t bad-looking, had a good job, a car, and there was no shortage of women. So why did he feel as if his life was empty, that there should be so much more? The look on her face—in her eyes—when she’d asked why he’d never called her again had made him want to fold her in his arms. The expression was familiar. In the divorce wars one person was nearly always hurt because they loved more. Cassie had the look, a loss of innocence in her eyes, a bruised air as if someone had beaten down her soul. No question about it. Someone had damaged her. The idea of anyone hurting her made him furious. And she’d refused to tell him about her broken engagement, so he had a pretty good idea who. If he ever got his hands on the guy…
But he had a bigger problem at the moment. She’d requested he tell her about his seduction style. If he started, it wouldn’t be just talk. No way was he going there. The only solution was not to play. He should have told her to forget dinner. He could have grabbed a bite alone somewhere or picked up a microwave something. Both ideas were unappealing, but so was the potential for a mess. It wasn’t too late to call it off.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Show time,” he muttered. “No—not a show. Dinner. Nothing more.”
He crossed the tiled floor and opened the door. Cassie stood there, holding a covered bowl with a plate on top that held steaks ready for the grill. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” She walked past him and looked around. “I can’t remember the last time I was here. Your mom really fixed up the place. Which is probably where my mom got inspired.”
Kyle hadn’t noticed. He knew this place was a mirror of the Brightwells, but the decorating was different. There was a stairway just beside the door that led to three bedrooms upstairs. The railing was oak now instead of wrought iron. On the far wall of the living room was a raised-hearth brick fireplace. The chimney went up the outside wall and his mother had added a fireplace in the master bedroom just above. There was a powder room beneath the stairway and the kitchen, separated from the main area by a beige, ceramic-tile-covered bar. Four tall oak swivel stools stood in front of it.
Cassie met his gaze. “My mom said the furniture she ordered is practically indestructible, in a color that will camouflage everything from tar to red punch.” She angled her chin toward the sofa and love seat. “That white furniture is a dead giveaway that this is not a place for kids.”
“Welcome to my world,” he said. “Let me take that stuff for you.”
“Ah, the gentlemanly approach.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know. The whole gentleman thing. I’m not sure it works for me. But do you size up a woman then tailor your plan of attack? Sort of a customized, personalized strategy for seduction?”
He groaned inwardly. Apparently it was too much to hope she would have forgotten. “No.”
“No, your technique isn’t personal?”
“No I’m not going to do this with you.”
“Why?”
“You’re my best friend’s sister. Call it a guy thing. There are lines you don’t cross. Besides, you’re also my friend.”
“So, what does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s complicated.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This is just too weird. Can’t we talk about sports or the weather?”
“I’m not asking you to compromise your principles. Just tell me what you would do if—”
There was that word again. “If what?”
“If you were with a woman you were attracted to.”
If he was attracted? There was a no-brainer. The way she looked tonight, turning back the tide would be easier than keeping his hands off her. Her straight blond hair was loose and tucked behind her ears. He wanted to run his fingers through the strands that looked like silver silk.
She was all in black—jeans and a T-shirt, strappy sandals revealing red-painted toes. But with her curvy little figure those jeans made his hands ache to get her out of them. And that was no ordinary T-shirt, or should he say half shirt. It was made out of the same soft material, and left one creamy shoulder bare. She wore no jewelry, but it would have paled in comparison to her attributes. No if about it. He was damned attracted to her. She had temptation written all over her. Why couldn’t she be in a gunnysack with a sign across the front that read No Trespassing?
It was getting hot in here. “Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked, then kicked himself from here to Canada.
“I’d love some.” She smiled. “I bet that’s step one. Lower your subject’s resistance with alcohol.”
“They’re not subjects. How insensitive do you think I am? Don’t answer that.”
Debating the wisdom of giving her alcohol, he walked into the kitchen, because he definitely needed some. She followed and set the salad and steak on the counter beside the sink. Kyle riffled through the drawer where his mother kept the foil cutter and corkscrew. After dealing with the bottle he’d brought with him, he pulled a couple glasses from the cupboard and poured the rich red merlot into each.
He handed one to Cassie. “Here. This is just being a good host. Let’s deal with dinner. I’ll start the fire.”
Actually it was already started and burning him to a crisp from inside out. But there was a limit to what he’d tell her.
“I thought I was supposed to cook.”
“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
If he didn’t do something to occupy his hands, he would fill them with her. A disaster in the making.
/> She sipped her wine, then asked, “Do you usually achieve your goal before dinner or after?”
“What?”
Humor danced in her blue eyes and her tempting mouth curved in a mysterious smile. “Statistically, I mean. Rough estimate. Just a ballpark figure.”
“What’s with you?” He folded his arms over his chest.
She leaned back against the counter, holding her wineglass in both hands. There was about a foot between them. “For a long time I’ve heard about the romantic exploits of Dan Brightwell. Megan and I had questions, but he would never answer. You and Dan are friends. Do you have the same technique? Compare notes? I’m curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“Maybe. And maybe if Dan had talked to me I’d be content. Or maybe if you’d called me like you said you would…”
She was killing him. He hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight, which was why he’d manipulated this dinner. But who knew she would push all his hot buttons? What was going on with her?
No. He didn’t want to know the answer. He was afraid if he found out it would cost him more than he could afford to pay.
“This was a bad idea,” he said. “If your place isn’t aired out enough, you can stay here. I’ll find a hotel in Santa Barbara.”
“What?” Her playful expression disappeared. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are.”
“Then why would you leave?”
She had him there. If he ran, she would know the reason why—he didn’t trust himself to be alone with her.
Then he made a calculated error. He looked into her eyes. The bruised expression was back—black and blue. Some other guy had put it there first, but he couldn’t pile on. The idea of hurting her was like tossing a defenseless kitten out in the cold. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Kyle knew he didn’t have a lot of choices and figured the best defense was a strong offense. Two could play this game and he was pretty sure he played it better.
“Okay, friend. You win. You’ve got a front row seat for seduction, Stratton style.”
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