In fact, he avoided her altogether, too afraid of crushing this unfamiliar feeling of hopefulness picking up speed in his chest. He waited until she left for work before going to her house. Then he’d purposely do minor repairs around the house, not wanting to become too engulfed in a project that would cause him to lose track of time so he could leave well before he anticipated her return.
Then, the following Tuesday, Freckles had sent him a text asking if they wanted to ride in the rented limo with her and Cessy. He fired off a reply saying that he would be driving them himself.
On Wednesday, when Kylie had left him a voice mail asking if he needed her to take his tux to the dry cleaner, he casually texted back that she could do whatever she wanted, but was secretly pleased to come home the following day to see it freshly pressed and hanging on his closet door.
On Friday, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of a brand-new garment bag spread out on Julia’s bed, and he’d slammed the door closed, refusing to acknowledge the way his palms itched to unzip the thing and take a peek at what Julia would be wearing to the gala.
For six days, they hadn’t talked about the pending date, and they especially hadn’t talked about their kiss. Actually, they hadn’t talked at all. Kane had thought it was better this way, but now that he was parked in front of her house on Saturday evening, he had to wonder if not addressing the situation had only allowed his expectations to grow out of control.
He sat in his late-model Ford F-250, his more practical and comfortable vehicle, and pulled the gold watch out of his tuxedo pocket, more to fiddle with the latch than to check the time. He was still ten minutes early and couldn’t very well sit in his idling truck all evening. And if he was a normal red-blooded male, he would’ve also decided that it was his lucky night.
But this wasn’t luck. It was torture, pure and simple. He grabbed his tuxedo jacket off the front seat and slipped it on as he got out of his truck and walked up the front path to her porch. He inhaled the woodsy pine scent of the fresh wreath she’d bought—and he’d hung on her door—as he tried to regulate his breathing. He used the antique brass knocker, making a mental note to repair the doorbell, then heard a bark just before the front door opened to reveal a woman silhouetted by the golden chandelier light inside.
His breath caught at the wavy layers of blond hair framing her face and he cursed himself for not taking a peek inside that garment bag and preparing himself for how sexy she’d look tonight. But he had a feeling nothing could have prepared him for how his body would react to seeing her in that dress.
It wasn’t gray, nor was it silver. It was satiny and smooth and clung to her curves. The color reminded him of his Grandpa Chatterson’s antique revolver—the one Kane had never been allowed to touch. Her body was nearly as dangerous and his compulsion to break the rules for a chance to hold her was twice as strong.
Snow was starting to fall, yet he felt like he was burning up.
“Kane?” she asked, and he almost looked down at himself to make sure it really was him.
“Didn’t recognize me in a tuxedo?” He tried to joke, but his voice was too raspy. His senses were too overwhelmed. This was really happening.
“Actually, I didn’t recognize you in that truck. You didn’t have to borrow someone’s car,” she said. “We could’ve taken mine.”
“I didn’t borrow it. I own it.”
“Oh,” was all she said.
It wasn’t until he’d bent down to pet Mr. Donut that Kane realized Julia was shifting from one strappy sandal to the other. He supposed she could be uncomfortable in such high heels, but a small part of him hoped she was just as nervous about the evening ahead as he was. Not that he wanted her to be anxious, but he’d feel a lot more secure if they were on common ground.
“Are you ready?” He stood, trying to wipe some of the hound’s fur off his jacket sleeves.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She grabbed a small silver clutch and a scrap of fabric before stepping out onto the porch.
“Do you have a jacket?” Kane looked at her bare shoulders, one shade darker than the snow landing on her front yard.
“I’ve got a wrap. Besides, after spending the last thirty minutes trying to style my hair and squeeze into this dress, I’m way too hot even to think about a coat right now.” That made two of them. But his temperature had nothing to do with getting dressed. “Freckles has been dead set on this makeover since I moved here. She made me promise not to wear my hair in a ponytail tonight, and I should’ve had it done professionally, but I was called in for an emergency surgery this morning and didn’t get home in time to do much with it.”
“I like it down,” Kane said, reaching out to stroke one of the silky, wavy strands that framed her face. She looked up into his eyes and his head instinctively tilted toward hers, before Mr. Donut used his increasing bulk to nose his way between them.
The interruption caused Julia to take a step back and say, “I, uh, guess we’d better get going.”
“Right.” Kane shot the dog a reprimanding look, making a silent vow to never bring the interfering pooch another baked good, then used his own set of keys to lock her front door. He’d been locking this same door nearly every day for weeks, but never had it been more intimate than now, when she was standing beside him in a dress made for sin.
She pointed out the twinkling holiday lights decorating the storefronts along Snowflake Boulevard, but it took fifteen minutes to drive to the trendy Snow Creek Lodge, and during that time, he had to remind himself a dozen times to keep his hands off Julia. When they pulled up to the valet, he almost reminded the parking attendant of the same thing. Instead, he just gave the young guy a look that he hoped said, Hands off, buddy. She’s mine.
As Kane walked around the truck, a strong breeze kicked up, and he saw her shiver. “Maybe I should’ve brought more than a skimpy wrap after all.”
“Here.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in closer to his side, telling himself she felt too good to not belong there. And if he maybe shot the valet an eat-your-heart-out smirk, then so be it. “It’ll be warmer when we get inside.”
They walked into the lobby, and despite the fact that a ten-foot stone fireplace with a blazing fire took up the center of the room, Kane kept his arm around Julia. Heads turned in their direction as they made their way to the ballroom, and Kane experienced a flashback to when he used to attend major functions like this on a regular basis. He didn’t hate it back then as much as he did now, but he’d never really loved the attention. He’d gone along with it for the team.
“All we have to do is get through the next couple of hours,” he mumbled, hoping this shindig had a well-stocked bar.
“Are you talking to me or to yourself?” Julia asked, sticking to his side like pine tar on a batting glove.
“Both.”
The big band orchestra was in full swing when they walked into the ballroom. Freckles was the first to rush over and greet them, and through the fabric of Julia’s dress, Kane felt some of the tension leave her body. But only some.
Half the people he knew from living in Sugar Falls for the past year. The other half, Julia said she recognized from the hospital. A waiter handed them glasses of champagne, but Kane slipped the guy a twenty-dollar bill and asked him to bring a beer instead.
“You doing okay?” he asked, leaning in close enough to be heard over the music.
“I think so.” Her smile seemed a bit forced. “Just stay close by.”
With pleasure, he thought. By the time they made it to their table, Kane was positive his hand had left a permanent imprint on Julia’s waist.
* * *
“You know what your dining room needs?” Freckles asked her niece as the waiter removed Kane’s salad plate. “A pool table.”
Everyone at their table had been giving Julia unsolicited opi
nions about her home remodel and decor while Kane had sat back and enjoyed the music. Of course, it helped that his sister and brother-in-law, as well as Luke and Carmen, were seated with them, providing him with an island of friends in this sea of social sharks.
It also helped that he was already on his second beer. All they had to do was get through the rest of dinner.
Cessy Walker returned to their table with Police Chief Matthew Cooper and Dr. Garrett McCormick, who’d both delivered speeches on the great work Shadowview Hospital did for active military and veterans. Their wives, Maxine Cooper and Mia McCormick, came back from the ladies’ room at the exact moment Cessy asked what she’d missed.
“I am not getting a pool table,” Julia said, making Kane proud she was finally doing a better job of sticking up for herself and cementing the battle lines. “Besides, where would I put that antique armoire?”
“But men love pool tables,” Freckles continued. “You can get one of those antler chandeliers to hang over it and maybe put up some classy-but-discreet neon beer signs.”
“Is there such a thing as a classy-but-discreet beer sign?” Cessy challenged her.
“Another beer would be a blessing right about now,” Kane mumbled, then jerked in surprise when Julia nudged him with her elbow. He chuckled, laying his arm along the back of her chair. He probably needed to get some real food in him to absorb the pale ale. He wasn’t intoxicated or anything, but his fingers found the alcohol to be a convenient excuse for toying with the ends of Julia’s loose hair as she turned to talk to Kylie about linen closets.
Freckles gave his hand a pointed look and then continued her campaign. “Are you saying you wouldn’t want a pool table, Kane?”
“Not in the dining room, no.”
“Which room would you put it in?” Luke Gregson asked.
“What about the bedroom?” Julia asked, and Kane’s fingers froze.
“I dated a guy with a pool table in his bedroom once,” Freckles said, then shrugged. “You could probably make it work if you skip the antlers and go for some tasteful artwork. Something painted on velvet, perhaps, to coordinate with the felt top.”
“Sorry, Aunt Freckles. Are you still talking about the pool table? I thought we’d moved on to the armoire.” Julia played with the stem of her champagne flute.
He remembered those same hands two weeks ago and how they’d felt against his waist when she’d been in his arms. Stroking his back, urging him closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman so intimately.
Of course, he’d held plenty of women before, most of them unclothed, even. But with Julia it had been different. It didn’t take a clinical psychologist like Drew to explain that Kane was simply wanting something he couldn’t have.
If Mr. Donut hadn’t interrupted them, they would’ve ended up in her bedroom for sure.
And if she didn’t stop being so damn sexy and Kane didn’t stop reliving that first kiss, they might still end up there.
* * *
Julia had once thought the guy looked hot in flannel, but nobody looked better than Kane Chatterson in a tuxedo. So good, in fact, even Chief Wilcox had given her a high five in the ladies’ room earlier after asking Julia where she’d been hiding him. For the first time in twenty-nine years, she finally felt as though she could actually fit in somewhere.
Well, somewhere besides Kane’s arms. His embrace had been the perfect fit. It had been almost two weeks since that passionate kiss in her kitchen and she could still feel the muscles in his waist tightening as her hands explored his torso. As his tongue explored her mouth.
When she’d run into him that morning in the Cowgirl Up Café, she’d been waiting for him to revert back to his brooding, moody personality so she could admit her failure to Freckles, then go home to her empty half-finished home and privately berate herself for falling for the wrong man. Again.
But his moodiness hadn’t been directed at her, and she found herself sputtering in disbelief as he shot down one suggested date after another before declaring to the entire restaurant that he was going to take her to the gala.
After that, she threw herself into work and, as she checked her unreliable phone for a message from him calling the whole thing off, she told herself that no news was good news. She’d been so grateful to hear his knock on her door tonight, Julia had almost reenacted that reckless kiss again right there on her front porch. She made a mental note to bring home a doggie bag for Mr. Donut to reward him for his timely interruption.
The waiter had just removed their dinner plates when Kane’s cell phone vibrated. He looked at the screen before frowning and mumbling something about people never leaving him alone. When the band launched into the first dance of the night, most of the couples at their table headed out to the parquet floor.
Except for when he’d been cutting into his prime rib, he’d spent most of the evening with his hands somewhere on her body. First on her waist, then in her hair and now on her shoulders. It felt as though someone had connected Julia to a morphine drip the moment she’d walked into the Snow Creek Lodge and she was floating through the evening on a dreamlike cloud of bliss.
Kane leaned closer. “I probably should have told you that I don’t dance,” he said. “Was that one of the requirements on your man list?”
She cleared her throat, then reached for her glass of ice water, thinking it would be more effective for her to throw it on her blushing face than just drink it. Why did he have to bring up that ridiculous subject again?
“No, but looking good in a tux wasn’t on the list, either, and you aced it with that one.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified she’d let the thought slip out.
“Is that a fact?” His grin was all too pleased, and she had to straighten up in her chair to keep from hiding under the table. “Are you going to tell me what else is on it?”
She shrugged, the gesture not coming off as casual as she’d intended. “It doesn’t matter now. I no longer need to look for any more dates.”
Instead of retaining their teasing glint, his eyes stared her down, and her knee was now the one bouncing conspicuously under the table. The intensity of his gaze cut through her insides like a scalpel, and Julia had the sensation that she was completely exposed and raw.
Luckily his cell phone rang again, distracting him enough that he didn’t see her little shudder. “Do you want to take that call?” Julia asked when he looked at the display screen.
“Hell, no, I don’t want to take it,” Kane said tightly. “But if I don’t, he’ll just keep calling me.”
Cessy looked over Kane’s shoulder at the screen, and Julia’s eyes widened at the woman’s invasion of his privacy. Well, Julia’s eyes also widened at the fact that she’d forgotten they weren’t completely alone at the table. But then Cessy patted Kane’s arm in sympathy and said, “You might want to go outside and call him back.”
“Will you excuse me?” he asked, and at her nod, he stood and left the table.
Julia’s upbringing demanded that she not be so impolite as to ask Cessy who had called, but her curiosity demanded that she find out why he was so upset over it.
“Do you think Kane will be long?” Julia asked, fishing for information.
“It depends on why Charlie’s calling,” Cessy responded. Who was Charlie? Another client?
“He’d better not be giving our boy any grief.” Freckles chimed in as she pulled off her high heels and replaced them with pink no-skid socks. “That stubborn man hates it when someone tries to force his hand.”
Cessy nodded and pulled a pair of ballet-style slippers out of her beaded clutch. “He’s too soft-hearted for his own good and needs someone to take care of him.”
“Kane?” Julia asked. “You think Kane is too soft-hearted?”
Both women looked up from switching out their footwear. �
�Of course, Sug. Who else would we be talking about?”
“He doesn’t seem very soft to me. Or like he needs anyone to protect him.” Julia quickly peeked toward the entrance to ensure he wasn’t coming this way. “In fact, last week he told me about how he managed to bail out of your bachelor auction without any assistance at all.”
“Nah, we knew he wouldn’t be willing to participate, anyway.” Freckles used her reflection in her dinner knife to check her lipstick. “Kane Chatterson isn’t exactly dating material.”
“He’s not?” Could’ve fooled Julia with the solicitous way he’d been acting tonight. But she’d been easily fooled before, and she wanted to get more information from them without giving the ladies any insight into her own feelings. “I’m sure plenty of women would have loved to go out on a date with him.”
“Of course they would. But that doesn’t mean they’d get their money’s worth if any of them made a bid.” Cessy waved at a group of elderly gentlemen.
Her aunt slightly lifted her sock-covered feet and gave them a wiggle. Oh goodness. These two ladies seemed as if they were ready to storm the dance floor. But Julia was determined to get answers before someone asked her sources of information for the next fox-trot. “So why trick Kane into participating?”
“We didn’t trick him into participating.” Freckles sighed as if she was explaining Men 101. “We tricked him into blasting off that stage with enough white-hot anger to send a rocket ship into space.”
Julia didn’t point out the inaccuracies in her aunt’s theory about emotions propelling interplanetary probes. She was too busy attempting to connect the cause and effect of these ladies’ thought processes. “I’m afraid I don’t see the logic in getting him mad for no reason.”
“Here’s how it works.” Cessy placed a heavily jeweled hand on the linen tablecloth as if she were a battle commander outlining an attack route on a map. “Kane’s the impulsive type that jumps to conclusions first, then asks questions later. He’s also the type that feels especially guilty when he lets people down. Since guilt equals generous donation, we all got what we wanted.”
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