Kit And Kisses

by Smith, Karen Rose

  "So you're here all alone."

  "Grey, it's no big deal. I can take care of myself."

  Yes, he supposed she could. But protectiveness he'd only ever felt in connection with Deedee or his father urged him to look out for Kit, too. It was a strange feeling, one he never remembered having with Susan.

  Grey could barely make out the edges of gardens as they walked up the path. He caught the scent of roses as they neared the house. Did Kit tend to the flowers, or did the landlord?

  They walked up the wooden porch steps. Kit inserted her key in the lock. As she stepped into the kitchen, she turned on the light. They blinked at each other in the sudden glare. The heat in the house made sweat bead up on Grey's forehead.

  "I have lemonade in the fridge. We could take it outside and sit on the porch," she offered.

  "That's fine."

  Kit's two cats came prowling into the kitchen as she pulled two glasses from the cupboard. Grey crouched down, rubbing the tabby under his chin. "What are their names?"

  Kit pointed to the one he was petting. "That's Byron."

  The black and white cat brushed against the back of his hand, wanting attention, too. "And this one?"

  "That's Keats."

  Grey chuckled. "They're not shy."

  "Nope. Just friendly. Tomorrow Byron gets to go to the hospital to play with the kids."

  "I don't understand."

  "I belong to a group—Pets for People. One Sunday a month, we take our pets to pediatrics and let the kids play with them. It's amazing how frowns turn to smiles when they can pet a puppy or a cat."

  Grey thought about Deedee and her job at the pet shop. She loved being around animals and she was good with them. He stood as Kit held out a glass of lemonade.

  She preceded him outside and settled on the porch step. "Sorry I don't have lawn chairs. I've been saving all my pennies for the living room."

  Settling beside her, he took a swallow of lemonade before he set the glass on the step. "Did you pick out furniture yet?"

  "I ordered it a while ago. The delivery date is set for less than two weeks."

  The scent of roses was strong as Grey turned to Kit. "I enjoyed tonight."

  She set her glass on the porch by the wooden post. "Even the singing?"

  He smiled. "Even that. Though I don't think it'll turn into a hobby."

  "You have a good voice."

  "And you have a beautiful voice."

  The kitchen light shed dim rays onto the porch. With her head tilted, Kit's blond hair caught them and shimmered. Her eyes were as bright and sparkling as her voice was beautiful. The boat neck of her dress revealed creamy skin that looked as touchable as her hair. He wanted her, and the want became a need that ached.

  When he raised his hand, she didn't back away but kept her gaze on his. He stroked her cheek. It was as soft as he'd imagined.

  "Is Kit your real name?" The huskiness in his voice seemed to fit in the dusky night, in the silence that wrapped around them as he waited for her answer.

  "Katerina is my given name."

  "It fits. It's a name that belongs to a princess."

  Her expression changed. Her eyelids fluttered down so he couldn't see what she was thinking. "What's wrong?"

  She shook her head.

  He lifted her chin gently with the tips of his fingers. "Tell me."

  "I have a problem accepting compliments from men. Trent was good at it. So now, I can't help but wonder what the motivation is...if they're sincere."

  "Do you think I tell every woman I see that they have a beautiful voice and a name fit for a princess?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

  "I don't know."

  She was wary because she'd been hurt badly. He could certainly understand that. But he also sensed that Kit was a woman who trusted her instincts. He stroked his thumb along her chin. "I think you do."

  "Grey, I don't know if I trust my judgment anymore. Just Wednesday you said—"

  "I know what I said, and I was wrong. There's something between us strong enough to make me want to deny it." He was definitely wrong about wanting just to talk. There was no point deluding himself or her. "As far as my motives go, maybe I do have an ulterior motive tonight. I want to kiss you again."

  "You do?"

  "If you don't have any objections."

  She gave a brief shake of her head and murmured, "No objections."

  He moved closer slowly, savoring the anticipation, the excitement, the desire sparkling in Kit's eyes. This time he wanted to hold her in his arms. This time he wanted to kiss her without regrets or caution or worries about tomorrow.

  Kit trembled before Grey's arm wrapped around her. When he'd tapped her on the shoulder at The Music Box, she'd been surprised, elated, scared, and wary. Until he apologized. Then she'd realized he didn't know how to handle the chemistry between them any better than she did. The decision to pull him onto the stage with her had been pure impulse. She'd wanted to make him laugh. She'd wanted to see him smile. She'd wanted to see him enjoy himself.

  Inviting him to come here had not been an impulse, but as Grey's arm enfolded her, she knew it might have been a mistake. The touch of his lips was curious, as if he wanted to discover more than he'd discovered before. He pressed against her gently, slowly persuading her to believe there was no where else she'd rather be and certainly nothing else she'd rather be doing.

  His hand slid beneath her hair and cradled her head. His shoulder pressed against hers and she felt an aching begin deep inside. As she opened her lips, Grey accepted her invitation. And everything changed. Gentle and slow transformed into demanding and fast. So fast, her senses reeled and Grey became her only ballast. He was heat and passion and a reason to believe in dreams again.

  Wanting to feel more of Grey, wanting to draw on his strength, wanting to assuage the yearning ache the kiss was stoking, she reached for him and clasped his shoulder. She traced the muscle under his polo shirt, rolling her thumb along his collar bone. Grey groaned and plunged deeper into her mouth, sweeping her tongue with his as his hold on her tightened. Her heartbeat ran wild.

  As a cricket chirped near-by, Grey pulled away. In a raspy voice, he said, "It's as hot out here as inside."

  Despite the sensual daze from Grey's kiss, Kit had to smile. "That's because it's July."

  He smoothed his finger across her cheekbone. "This heat has nothing to do with the month of the year."

  As her pulse slowed, as she took a deep breath to get some perspective, her thoughts steadied. "Grey, I have to ask you again. Do you want another consultant to work with you?"

  He thought about it. "No. I trust your professionalism. How do you feel about it?"

  "I'll do the best job I know how to do for you and if at any time I feel I'm not, I'll give the account to someone else."

  "Sounds fair to me." He took her hand and placed it on his knee, separating her fingers one by one, sliding his thumb from the base of each finger to the tip.

  The caress was tender and sensual and made her shiver.

  "Would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

  "I'd like that but Pets for People visits the hospital in the morning. What about a late lunch?"

  Shaking his head, he said, "I'm busy in the afternoon. What if we go to an early breakfast and then I come with you? Is that allowed?"

  He covered her hand with his—it was warm and callused and felt so good. "Sure. We can always use a helping hand." One thought overrode the pleasure of his touch. It was a Sunday the last time he told her he had a personal commitment. She wished he'd tell her what he did...where he went.

  But he didn't tell her. He stood and tugged her gently toward him. After a brief kiss that stoked the banked fire more than it quenched it, he murmured, "Good night. I'll pick you up around eight?"

  She nodded.

  He went down the steps and continued on the path into the dark of night. She liked Greyson Corey; she fe
lt pulled towards him. But he was keeping something from her.

  What was it?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At the hospital the next day, Grey watched as a fuzzy, mop-like dog barked and a six-year-old's face crumpled with tears. He guessed the little girl wasn't used to being around animals. But before he took a step toward her, Kit was already there with Byron, crouching next to the child's wheelchair.

  The owner of the dog, an older woman with silvery hair smiled and said, "Bobo's just talking to you."

  The little girl didn't seem convinced.

  "I'll let him talk to someone else," the woman added. "Why don't you pet that nice kitty."

  Kit assured the child, "He's very soft."

  "Can I hold him?" the little girl asked.

  "Sure." Kit settled Byron on the girl's lap. The cat rubbed his head against the six-year-old's hand and she giggled.

  Grey and Kit had made small talk over breakfast, neither of them mentioning the night before. Grey had told himself that the attraction between them wouldn't be so strong in the light of day, but he'd been wrong. The urge to kiss her was as strong this morning as it had been last night. When they'd gone back to Kit's apartment for Byron, he'd waited outside. Being alone with Kit in her apartment could turn into more than they both bargained for.

  Ever since they'd arrived at the hospital, he'd watched Kit interact with the pets and children. She talked and played with them naturally, as if she was truly enjoying herself. She'd explained that Byron and Keats took turns visiting the children. As Grey helped her and the other volunteers introduce the pets to the kids, he saw their faces light up with joy. Smiles replaced frowns and the hospital confines were forgotten, at least for a short while. Kit had told Grey they visited the children for an hour—that way the animals were manageable as well as the kids.

  A woman in a navy suit stopped to talk to Kit. Her name tag marked her as hospital personnel. "I have a surprise for you."

  Kit stood, glancing at Byron on the child's lap to make sure they were getting along. "Okay, Sally. What have you done this time? Made me head of the committee to plan the Christmas program?"

  The middle-aged brunette laughed. "Nope. Not yet, anyway. But I have nominated you for Meadeville's humanitarian award for this year. This program you established is good for the kids, the pets, and the volunteers."

  Kit looked surprised for a moment and then smiled. "I'm honored. Thank you."

  "The newspaper will probably call you for an interview. There might be some other publicity involved but I know you can handle it. That's your area of expertise."

  Grey moved away from the conversation to an unoccupied corner of the lounge. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he stared out the window. He hadn't known Kit established the Pets for People program. He'd assumed she was simply a volunteer. So why had the conversation he'd overheard bothered him?

  Because it was one thing if Kit volunteered her time unselfishly. Another if she did it for the publicity, to advance her career. The bottom line was he hadn't spent enough time with her to know. He hated to think she'd do something like this simply for personal gain.

  They drove back to her apartment after the hospital visit. Kit unhooked the light leash she'd attached to Byron's collar and set him down in the living room. "Go tell Keats all about it."

  The cat looked at Kit, gave a small meow, and headed off toward the kitchen.

  Kit shook her head. "Sometimes I think they understand me better than my clients do."

  When Grey didn't respond, she asked, "Would you like something to drink? It's already hot enough to make me wish I had central air. If you weren't tied up this afternoon, we could go swimming."

  He knew she was leaving him an opening. But he had questions he needed to have answered. "Why did you set up the Pets for People program?"

  "I guess you heard what Sally said."

  He nodded.

  She laid the leash on the step stool. "You remember Bruce and Greta? Well, they have a daughter. She had her appendix removed. She hated being inactive and she was giving them a hard time. So I took Keats over one day to keep her company. You wouldn't believe what a difference it made in her attitude. Enough so that Bruce got her a kitten of her own. So...I looked at the idea in a broader context."

  "You're a busy woman, Kit. Why take the time to set up a program like this? And after it was set up, why do you still volunteer? So you have something to do one Sunday afternoon a month?"

  For a moment, she didn't answer him. Her gaze searched his face, then her smile faded and the brightness of her blue eyes changed to a cold crystal blue. "Why the inquisition, Grey?"

  "Aren't we trying to get to know each other?"

  "Maybe. But I think you have a particular question in mind that you're not asking. What do you really want to know?"

  "Your motivation."

  She shrugged. "That's simple. I like pets. I like people."

  "And it has nothing to do with business?"

  "What could it possibly have to do with business?"

  "Promoting yourself, getting publicity for your company."

  "And if I did it for that reason, what difference would it make?"

  She was on-guard and wary and that wasn't what he wanted. "Let's just drop it."

  She gave him a probing look that told him she didn't understand what had gotten into him. He didn't understand it himself. Maybe he was looking for some sign that Kit was generous and kind rather than calculating, some sign that she could take Deedee into her heart.

  He checked his watch. "I have to go."

  Kit brushed her bangs from her forehead. "Yes, I know. Thanks for going along this morning. Another pair of hands always helps."

  "It was my pleasure." He took a few steps closer to her. He hadn't touched her all morning, though he'd wanted to many times over. "When can I see you again?"

  Searching his face, she bit her lower lip. It was an indecisive gesture, one he wouldn't associate with her—she always seemed so sure of herself.

  He ran his thumb over her cheekbone and added, "It can be business or pleasure." She trembled and he wanted to pull her tight against him to show her what she did to him. Instead, he waited.

  "Tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to drive over to Marietta to see a man who sculptures logs with a chain saw. I thought he'd be a great draw for your promotional day. Would you like to come along?"

  "Yes. I can drive if you'd like."

  "That's fine," she said in a breathless tone that made his pulse race even faster.

  Kissing Kit could turn into an all-afternoon commitment. So instead of setting his mouth on hers, he gently tugged her into his arms and kissed her forehead. A strand of her bangs tickled his lips. The scent of her perfume mixing with the heat could drug him. He held her a little closer...a few moments longer.

  Then he released her. "I'll call you tomorrow to set up a time." Her flushed cheeks, the rosiness of her lips, the bemusement in her eyes urged him to pull her into his arms again. But he didn't. He walked to her door.

  Behind the wheel of his car, he knew he'd made the right decision. One kiss with Kit would never be enough.

  ***

  Kit climbed from Grey's car and slammed the door. Okay, so he hadn't told her what he did on Sundays. It shouldn't matter. She shouldn't care. It was really none of her business. They weren't even dating, were they?

  And if he was keeping something from her, what was she doing seeing him? Hadn't she had enough of that with Trent? What did it take for her to learn her lesson?

  "The company truck would have taken the stony lane better. Sorry if you got bumped around."

  That's why she hadn't learned her lesson. A few words of kindness, and hope sprung eternal. She considered herself an independent woman so why did she want to think Grey was beginning to care for her?

  Trying to think of today as more business than pleasure, stirring up her resistance against the sound of Grey's voice, th
e magnetic draw of her body toward his, she quipped, "I take bumps fairly well. I'm just thankful I wore sneakers instead of high heels."

  There was no definite path from the rutted lane to the cabin like structure nestled in the woods. She wondered if it had running water and electricity.

  Grey was beside her in a few moments, his hand cupping her elbow. "Does this guy live in this century?"

  "I don't know. I've only spoken with him twice on the phone. His voice is...refined."

  As they approached the house, Kit could see it wasn't as rustic as it looked. There was a precise quality about the porch and the rails surrounding it that piqued her curiosity. She wanted to see inside.

  Grey ran his hand over the balustrade. "Nice work."

  Not seeing a doorbell, Kit rapped on the solid wood door.

  The man who opened it was and wasn't what she expected. He wore a black tank top and worn jeans. His beard was long and bushy. His physique spoke of many hours doing manual labor. She'd guess his age to be around thirty, until she met his gaze and suspected he might be older. Brown almost black eyes bored into her, examining her closely.

  "Mr. Whittaker?" She extended her hand. "I'm Kit Saunders. And this is Grey Corey."

  There was no spark of anticipation in his eyes, nor much expression in his voice. "The name's Zac. Come on and I'll show you the trees." He stepped down onto the porch.

  "Wouldn't you like to discuss your fee? The hours you might be available?" she asked.

  "There's no fee," Miss Saunders. "I can work in a parking lot as easily as in my workshop." He started from the porch and glanced at her puzzled expression. "Coming?"

  She looked at Grey. "Uh, yes. Right behind you."

  Grey murmured in her ear. "Not real sociable, is he? Where did you hear about him?"

  "I didn't. I saw one of his sculptures at a backyard party a client gave."

  Zac Whittaker led Grey and Kit through a grove of trees to a clearing where the sun shone brightly onto a shed. Kit squinted against the light and then breathed, "Oh, my!"

  Grey rested his hand at the small of her back as they gazed from one piece to another. "Masterpieces, aren't they?"