He nodded eagerly. “These are amazing!” He took another bite, rolling his eyes with pleasure. “They are actually better than my mom’s, but don’t ever let her know that I said that.”
Kinsley’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly with his praise and she relaxed back in the chair. After that, their conversation was lighter, back to their previous repartee where he teased her and she felt comfortable enough to tease him back. But he also revealed a great deal about his childhood and she warmed to him even more.
“I’d better get back to work,” she sighed after their lunch was over and they’d eaten more than half of the cookies she’d brought.
“That was delicious, Kinsley. Thank you for lunch.” He paused thoughtfully as he helped her pack up the remaining food. “I really enjoy our lunches together, but don’t feel that you have to do this every day.”
She stopped and looked at him, trying to hide the panic she felt at the thought of not having this special moment during the day. “Oh, well, I actually…” Kinsley wasn’t sure what to say. “I really enjoy our lunches, too.” Then something occurred to her. “But if you have work that you need to get done, I don’t want to impose on your time.”
He put a hand on hers, slowing her frantic packing. “You aren’t an imposition, Kinsley. Not in any way.”
“Oh.” She knew that there should be something else to say, some teasing remark that would ease the sudden tension shimmering between the two of them. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of what that comment might be.
Looking down, she focused on putting the rest of the food away. He handed her a container and that’s when she saw the scratches on his hands and forearms. “What happened to your hands?”
He looked down, spreading his fingers out, then curling them up to a fist as if testing the abraded skin on his hands and knuckles. “I’ve never built anything like this before,” he admitted, looking up at the structure again. “I struggled with a few of the boards, and some of them got the better of me.”
With that, he collected the bag and headed toward the building.
Kinsley paused, startled by his words. Once again, she felt as if there was a larger significance to what he’d just admitted. But she couldn’t put her finger on it. Looking at the pergola, she was impressed all over again with the structure, with the details he’d added. There was even a support beam for an overhead fan, so they could use the space in the summer. And was that an electrical outlet? The wires were squiggled out, as if he hadn’t quite had time to finish the wiring. Was he going to add lights?
Goodness, this was going to be lovely! Surrounded by grass and with a stunning view of the mountain off in the distance, she couldn’t think of a better place to sit and talk.
Why had he done this? How could he have designed and built this pergola in just a weekend?
Smiling, she turned and followed him into the building. As she walked through his work area towards her own office, she noticed him flexing his hand again. He didn’t glance up as she walked past, but there was nothing unusual about that. Lincoln focused intensely when he was working.
Still, she could tell his hand was bothering him. So, she put the leftover food away in the fridge, then pulled the first aid kit out of one of the kitchen cabinets that she’d found last week. Walking back into the work area, she paused by his table.
He’d already gone back to soldering his thingamajig. But when she stepped up to the worktable, he stopped, blinking owlishly up at her. “Is something wrong?” he asked, taking his glasses off and rubbing his temples.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding at his hands. “You hurt yourself over the weekend building that beautiful space for our lunches.”
He glanced down at his hands, which were scraped raw in a few places, and shrugged. “I’m fine,” he replied.
“You’re not fine,” she argued, placing the first aid kit on the table. “Let me put some ointment on some of the wounds. Otherwise, they could become infected. You work with solder and other chemicals during the day and I rarely see you in gloves.”
His eyes dropped to the kit, then lifted to look at her. “You want to…what?”
She sighed and opened the kit, finding what she needed. “Just let me see your hands.”
He extended both of his hands, palms up. She examined them carefully, turning his hands over and finding additional scrapes on the underside of his arms. “Lincoln, some of these look really bad.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated stubbornly.
“So you’ve said.” She ignored his protestations and unscrewed the cap of the antibiotic ointment. With gentle fingers, she dabbed a bit on the areas that looked the most painful, carefully applying it to the wound. “Am I hurting you?”
Lincoln looked down at her dark hair, then at her delicate, pink-tipped fingers. Was she hurting him? Yes. But the pain wasn’t in his hands. It was lower. In his groin. Feeling her soft fingers on his skin sent a bolt of lust through his body. Damn, he liked having her touch him! If he’d known that she’d do this, he would probably have built the damn pergola a while ago.
She turned his hands over and applied the ointment to some of the scrapes on his palms and arms, being extremely gentle. And it turned him on even more. It took all of his concentration to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and making love to her right here amid the parts scattered around them.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, when he jerked his hand away at one point. “Did that hurt?”
Hell yes! But it wasn’t his hands that hurt!
Something flashed through her eyes. He could see the spark glowing there. Her lips softened, her mouth opening ever so slightly. It was almost as if there was a physical connection between them, something pulling them closer. Something mysterious and intensely powerful.
Their breaths paused. Pulses beating as one. The air seemed to shimmer around them and Kinsley barely moved as they stared into each other’s eyes.
And then the moment vanished.
Kinsley pulled back, flustered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She fumbled with the cap, trying to put it back onto the tube of ointment. But when the cap fell out of her trembling fingers a third time, Lincoln took the tube away and did it himself.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice deeper as the lust continued to flame his senses. “My hands feel better already.”
She stepped back, her hands fluttering pointlessly in the air. “Yes. Um…well, the ointment has a bit of…” she struggled to find the word, her mind more focused on his lips than on the tube in her hands. “Um…that stuff that numbs the pain.”
Lincoln nodded as if she’d said something profound. “Right. Well, it’s working.”
“Good.” She nodded her head at that point. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “Right. Okay. Then I guess I’ll get back to work.”
And with that, she turned and rushed out of his work area.
For a long time, Lincoln stared at the door that separated them. Normally, he preferred privacy while working on his projects. But at this particular moment, he wanted to tear down the wall between his work area and her office. He wanted to watch her, to know what she was doing, how she was reacting.
And damn it, he wanted to make love to her.
“Engaged,” he grumbled to himself with a sigh of resignation. “Well, almost engaged,” he corrected.
And with that, he picked up his glasses and moved back to his project. But for the first time, he couldn’t focus on what he was doing. His thoughts were centered on Kinsley, wondering if her reaction to that moment had been as intense as his.
Chapter 8
Kinsley smiled as she accepted the cup of coffee from the barista. “Thank you so much.”
“Kinsley McCabe?” a female voice asked behind her.
Kinsley turned, finding a woman with curly, copper hair, bright green eyes, and the most beautiful pale skin she’d ever seen. Seeing the woman, Kinsley felt…drab and boring. The woman wore a pair of j
eans that hugged her figure, but weren’t too tight. Her tee shirt showed off her amazing figure and the leather jacket seemed to add panache to her overall image that Kinsley couldn’t even imagine being able to pull off. If she wore that outfit, Kinsley would look…silly.
Smoothing a hand down over her plain black skirt and cream, silk blouse, she wished that she’d chosen something more glamorous today. Unfortunately, Kinsley didn’t know how to do glamorous. She was just…tidy. Yes, that was the word most people used to describe her. In the past, Kinsley hadn’t minded being described as “tidy”. But standing next to this copper-haired beauty that made jeans and a tee-shirt look cool, Kinsley desperately wanted to be something other than tidy.
“Yes, how can I help you?” she asked, trying to be polite. But it was an effort.
“I’m Frankie Winward,” the gorgeous woman explained, pulling a business card out of her pocket and extending it to Kinsley. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”
Kinsley sighed. “If you are trying to get an interview with Lincoln Meyers, don’t bother.” She grabbed the cups of coffee once again and started heading out of the coffee shop, the woman following beside her. “I could tell you that he’ll get back to you, or that we can schedule something for the future, but that would be a lie. Lincoln Meyers doesn’t do interviews.”
“I’m not,” the woman, Frankie, assured her, adding a disarming smile to her denial. Then she laughed, lifting a shoulder slightly when Kinsley stopped at her tidy, silver Prius. “Well, actually, I do. But not an interview, actually. I’m not a reporter.” She offered the card again.
Kinsley ignored the woman’s business card, shaking her head. “I need to get to work.”
The woman hurried alongside Kinsley, not giving up. “I don’t want an interview with Mr. Meyers. I want to set up an interview between Mr. Meyers and his father.”
That stopped Kinsley in her tracks. Father? Lincoln had only mentioned a mother! “I’m sorry?”
Frankie smiled again, feeling a jolt of triumph as this lovely, blue eyed woman stopped, blinking in confusion. “I’m a private investigator. A man named Edward Meyers hired me and he’s trying to locate his children. Apparently, he has three sons. I believe that Lincoln Meyers might be one of them.”
“His father?” the pretty brunette echoed blankly.
Frankie nodded, assessing the woman standing in front of her. She was very pretty in a classy way. Frankie felt a bit…clumsy next to her. And those sharp, blue eyes didn’t seem to miss a single detail.
“Yes. Edward Meyers fathered three boys. Well,” she scoffed, then remembered she was supposed to be professional and caught herself. “Three that he knows about.”
The brunette gasped, pulling back slightly. “That’s horrible!”
“I agree,” she replied, but Frankie thought the man’s actions were despicable. Not the fact that he’d become estranged from his sons. That wasn’t entirely accurate though. The horrible part was the bastard father who had abandoned his children. “There is a very large inheritance at stake. He wishes to pass his legacy on to his sons. He has terminal cancer, so there isn’t much time.”
Frankie saw the concern in the brunette’s eyes and knew that she had gotten through. Which was a miracle, since she’d been calling the man’s office for the past week, only to be put off by this same woman.
The woman nodded, efficiently balancing the two cups of coffee as she pressed the button to unlock her car. “I’ll talk to Lin…um, Mr. Meyers and will let you know.” She reached out with two spare fingers and Frankie slipped her business card between them.
Frankie smiled. “That’s all I can ask. Thank you.”
Kinsley watched the woman, wishing that she could sway her hips with that kind of come-get-me-if-you-dare sort of ‘tude. The woman was gorgeous and…nice.
With a sigh, she opened the car door, settled into the driver’s seat, and headed for the warehouse. As soon as she entered the building, Kinsley spotted Lincoln already hard at work. She didn’t disturb him, but quietly placed the cup of coffee by his elbow and slipped into her office.
As she sat down at her desk, she saw the flashing at the bottom of her computer screen. It was a text message from Lincoln. All it said was, “Thanks.” Kinsley smiled and got to work, feeling a warm glow of…happiness? No, that was silly. She couldn’t feel a surge of happiness simply because he politely thanked her for a cup of coffee.
It was just coffee, she told herself and settled in to work. Yep, caffeine was a glorious thing.
Lincoln stared at the cup of coffee. He wasn’t a huge coffee drinker, but he liked a cup or two each morning. But this cup was somehow better than the coffee in the small kitchen. It didn’t taste any different. Lincoln had his housekeeper stock the kitchen with an excellent brand of coffee beans. But for some reason, this coffee was…better than normal.
Setting it aside, he continued working. But he kept replaying the image of Kinsley walking tentatively into his workroom, looking nervous about bringing him a cup of coffee. She’d carefully set it down and left, trying so hard not to disturb him.
Obviously, she had no idea how much she disturbed him every damn day! Every time she walked into the building, he paused to watch the security monitors. He loved seeing her energy as she got out of her car and the cute way she bumped her hip against the door of her conservative Prius to close it. He thought of that hip bump as her saucy escape from her normally sedate, professional demeanor. And every time he saw her do it, he wondered what other ways she let herself go.
By the time lunch rolled around, he was more than ready to stop working and just spend some time with her. He grabbed the meal he’d prepared and waited. Sure enough, Kinsley poked her head around the door, looking for him.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Yes!” she beamed and stepped fully into the room.
“Let’s eat,” he led the way through the side door to their pergola. It still boggled him that he’d spent an entire weekend building it. But the smile on her face had been worth the effort. He’d loved the way she’d walked around, noticing all of the small details. And when she’d stopped on the far side and stared at the view of the mountains, Lincoln knew that he’d built the damn thing just for her.
Yep! He’d built a pergola for a woman who was engaged to be engaged to another man. He was a complete idiot!
“Here,” he grumbled, handing her a sandwich. He’d made a special kind of pesto for today’s lunch and he waited for her to take a bite, putting out the other food he’d brought.
“Oh, this is good!” she sighed, savoring the bite. “Amazing! Is this brie?”
Lincoln nodded, putting out a fruit salad. Not because he liked fruit salad, but he’d made it after figuring out that Kinsley loved fruit and wasn’t a huge fan of vegetables.
“I’m going to get fat if I keep eating like this,” she laughed.
His eyes moved over her figure. “No, you’re not,” he replied, thinking that she could stand to gain a few pounds. “Eat,” he urged, pouring her some iced tea.
She nibbled on her sandwich and he picked up his own, but he sensed there was something on her mind. Lincoln waited, wondering when she’d brave it out and just ask.
“You’ve mentioned your mother several times over the past few weeks. I know that you have a good relationship with her. But what about your father? What do you know about him?”
Bad subject, he thought. “Only that he was a complete bastard who abandoned my mother as soon as she discovered that she was pregnant.”
Kinsley’s face fell with those words. She nibbled on her sandwich thoughtfully. “Oh. That doesn’t…he doesn’t sound like a nice man.”
“He isn’t.”
She lifted hopeful, blue eyes up to his. “Maybe there’s something more to the story,” she postulated. “Perhaps he was…?”
Lincoln lifted a hand at that. “Before you go down that road, how about if we make a deal?”
He
r eyes widened. “What sort of a deal?”
He considered his next move, wondering if it was wise. Probably not, he accepted. But he was going to do it anyway. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my father. But only after you bring Kurt over for dinner one night this week.”
“Carl? You want to have dinner with Carl and me?” she asked, blinking at him. “Why would you want to meet Carl?” she asked, correcting her boyfriends’ name.
He shrugged and loaded her plate with more fruit salad. “I just want to meet this paragon of perfection that you talk about so often.”
She laughed, waving that comment aside. “Oh, Carl isn’t perfect. Not by a long shot.”
“What are his weaknesses?” he prompted, wanting to hear them so that he could savor each one.
She paused for a moment, tilting her head to think about the question. “Well, he’s…” she hesitated and Lincoln knew that she didn’t want to say anything bad about her boyfriend. Kudos to her, but he wasn’t relenting. “Well, no one is perfect.”
Lincoln shrugged. “Okay, so tell me his strengths. What do you like about him?”
She smiled gently and he hated that expression. “He’s just a nice guy,” she told him. “We like the same restaurants, the same foods. He likes to garden. He dresses nicely. Carl takes a lot of pride in his clothes.” She laughed slightly and looked down at her food. “He dry cleans his jeans,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she’d admitted to something completely naughty.
Lincoln snorted with disgust. “That’s…” he was going to say something derogatory but held back. “Interesting,” he finally finished.
“It’s weird,” she asserted with a nod. “I mean, isn’t the whole point of wearing jeans to be comfortable?” She glanced briefly at Lincoln’s well-worn jeans. “Why would you dry clean jeans so that they are stiff with starch? He also likes it when there’s a crease on the legs.” She shook her head, and realized that she was being negative. “But that’s just his way. He likes his jeans pressed nicely and I shouldn’t judge. I mean, I like things organized to a crazy degree.”
One More Kiss (Forsaken Sons Book 1) Page 6