“I’m here to give you an estimate for your renovations.”
Kelsey forced herself to concentrate on the man’s words and not on the softly spoken, yet masculine, sound of his voice. “Ahh…I’ve already hired Frank Brevan and I’m expecting him any minute. So…” So scram. She could still feel him openly assessing her with those eyes she couldn’t quite see and it made her nervous.
Okay, so she hadn’t intended to open the door dressed like a Las Vegas cocktail waitress to some unknown male, but really. He was gawking as if he hadn’t seen a woman in months—and he didn’t look like the Navy type, so she doubted that was the case. He was way too rough around the edges, with an air of unruliness.
Before her manners got the better of her, Kelsey said, “Well, sorry you wasted a trip. Goodbye,” and soundly shut the door in his face.
Letting out a breath, Kelsey leaned her back against the solid timber. When he knocked again Kelsey felt it vibrate through the wood. For some strange reason her knees went wobbly at the sound of his voice. “I’m here because Frank asked me to come. I’m KD McKinley.”
“Good for you. Are they supposed to be the magic words, like open sesame?”
“No. Ah…I’m Laura’s son. Does that help?”
It took Kelsey a moment or two to process the information. “You’re Frank’s stepson?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Oh, it was yes, ma’am, was it? She knew Laura McKinley-Brevan came from a small town in Texas, but she hadn’t detected much of an accent when her son had first spoken. “The accent’s not an open sesame either,” she told him, picturing the female conquests that had likely fallen at his feet at the sound of that drawling molasses lilt.
“Funny, it’s served me well in the past. But I’m not here to open your…sesame. I’m here to do the estimate on Frank’s behalf. Are you planning on letting me in?”
No, I’m planning to stand here all day with my back pressed to the door as though you’re going to break in. Lord, he must think she was an idiot. She looked down at herself. Changing would draw too much attention. Besides, he’d already seen her in her ready-to-seduce-her-boyfriend outfit. And this was her house. He could just put his eyes right back in his head, thank you very much.
When the door opened, KD forced his eyes to remain trained above the brunette’s neck. She was stunning, soft and delicate in some features—the finely arched eyebrows, the pertly upturned nose—and strong in others—the indomitable line of jaw and the bold, level stare of golden hazel eyes. She had a hell of a face. Hell of a package, really, though he’d be burned at the stake before he got caught gawking at her like a randy teenager again.
But what kind of woman answers the door on Sunday morning dressed like that? The dress didn’t exactly look like church wear.
“I thought you lived in the US.”
“On and off,” KD said vaguely to address her implied question. He’d spent some time in the US working in construction and had lived there until his mother had moved them to Australia to marry Frank when KD was eleven years old. Despite that, his accent was subtle to the point of unnoticeable unless he was angry or employing the good ol’ boy routine that often opened an otherwise resistant woman’s door. Not that it had made an impression in this instance. “Right now, I’m here to give you that estimate.” Was she going to make him stand out here and suffer an interrogation?
He thought perhaps she was when she inquired haughtily, “Maybe you are and maybe you aren’t. Are you well-qualified?”
KD bit back an exasperated sigh. The last twenty-four hours had been hard enough without this. He wasn’t about to stand here reciting his qualifications, beg for a job any able-bodied man with a tool kit could complete. “I think I can handle a little paintin’ and hammerin’, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, if it were just paintin’ and hammerin’, I could do the job myself. I have bigger plans.”
KD let his gaze rove over her again, this time doing nothing to mask the intent of his perusal. So much for professionalism. She was petite, yet lush and feminine. She looked like the type to be more interested in painting nails than hammering them, the type that’d let out a horrified squeal should she get a spot of paint on her impeccably stylish outfit. “Whatever you say,” he said with the barest tilt of his lips.
Her eyes narrowed. For a second she looked like she wanted to sock him one and KD had to struggle to keep his grin from widening. She might not be cut out for manual labor, but she was no shrinking violet either.
Apparently she decided not to start an argument about women and their home renovating abilities, but her voice remained cool. “Well, if Frank sent you, I guess he must know what he’s doing. You might as well come in and take a look around.”
He paused to wipe his boots on the welcome mat, ducking his head to remove his hat as he did so. He caught a whiff of perfume, something flowery and exotic. Probably French, definitely expensive. The kind that teased a man like him into noticing what he was never likely to have.
The scent, and the sentiment, suited Kelsey Simmons to the ground.
KD followed her along the hall and registered the condition and style of the house. Exposed timber floorboards needed a buff and polish, wooden latticework needed repainting, skirting boards needed replacing. The central hallway provided entry to a sparsely furnished main living area and four well-sized bedrooms. Only one was furnished with a queen-sized bed and an old timber wardrobe. Narrow windows framed the view of leafy trees set against the backdrop of a perfect blue sky that met the rugged outline of the Glass House Mountains at the horizon. The windows were all open and a cooling spring breeze blew the distinctive aroma of blooming gardenia into the house to mingle with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.
Kelsey Simmons stopped at the largest bedroom, the one with the bed. “I had the idea that I could make this bedroom a real feature. Being as it’s right next door to that small second bathroom, I thought I might open up that wall and create an ensuite. Do you think that could be done?”
She looked at him with those wide hazel eyes, waiting for him to say something. “I’d have to check the foundations,” he finally answered, willing his mind to stay on business. The way they were both wedged in the narrow doorway, her body slanted in his direction, made it difficult for him to control the direction of his gaze. Her—he had to say impressive—cleavage drew inviting shadows across her honeyed skin where it wasn’t concealed by the thick curtain of her dark brown hair.
You are not going to be caught ogling her breasts, KD told himself firmly, though his inner voice wasn’t the only thing firming up. Shit, not a good time for that to happen.
“If you could give me a definite on that before you leave today, I’d appreciate it. I have my heart set on an ensuite.”
“I’ll be sure and look into it.” He wondered what, besides an ensuite, the delectable Miss Simmons might set her heart on. He had the distinct impression she made a point of getting what she wanted and the notion incited his libido.
“The whole place needs a paint as well, as you can probably tell.” She pushed off down the hallway again. “And most of the skirting boards need replacing. I could do some of that myself, but I work so much that I might not be able to find the time.”
Right. She looked barely large enough to reach the top shelf of a kitchen pantry, let alone conduct home renovations. She couldn’t be much taller than five-feet-three. And she was done up like she was about to break out in the rumba, not break in to a toolbox.
Abruptly she stopped and turned. KD just managed to pull up before he ran into her. From the less-than-impressed look on her face, KD figured she had guessed at the direction of his thoughts. “I am perfectly capable of wielding a hammer. I’m not useless.”
“Did I say you were?” KD had already thought of more than one use for her in the five minutes since she had opened the front door. Quit thinking like that, jackass!
“Oh no, you didn’t say anything. Very shrewd.�
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“Look.” KD felt the urge to sigh mightily. “I’m sure you’re capable of achieving whatever you want, a woman can do whatever a man can do, etcetera, etcetera. But if you could renovate this place yourself, you wouldn’t need me now, would you?”
No question, that annoyed her. The change in her stance telegraphed that clearly. The way she put her hands on those flaring hips also urged her luscious flesh to press invitingly against the fitted neckline of her little red dress. The top of her head barely came level with his collarbone, so the view was quite impressive from his vantage point.
I will not stare at her breasts. I will not stare at her breasts. He was here representing his stepfather, so he had better behave. That meant going out of his way not to notice the way the outline of her pebbled nipples was clearly visible against the clingy fabric.
Lord, have mercy.
“Who says I do need you?” she challenged with faux sweetness. “After all, my verbal agreement is with Frank. Perhaps I’ll just make another appointment with him.”
“You might be waiting a while.” Lack of sleep and stress made his voice gruff. “The doctor has him on bed rest.”
“The doctor?”
“Frank had a heart attack yesterday. That’s why I came up from Brisbane—to take over his workload while he recovers.”
“A heart attack?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “I had no idea. How awful.”
“Yeah, well,” KD said, her obvious distress quelling his momentary annoyance. “The attack was mild, so he’ll be fine with rest and the change in his diet he was told to make after his last checkup.”
“He was told… He should have been watching his diet?”
“The doctor has been telling him to for years.”
Kelsey’s face paled. “I guess strenuous activity is out of the question, too.”
“He’s supposed to be taking it easy, yeah.”
“Oh, God. I feel terrible about this. I shouldn’t have… Poor Frank. Gabby!” She rushed toward the kitchen, leaving KD standing in the hall. Mystified, KD followed her, and could easily hear her conversation with another woman.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Frank. He had a heart attack last night.”
“Oh no! Is he alright?”
“How can he be? He’s in the hospital. And get this. He’d had warnings from the doctor. He should have been dieting, avoiding strenuous activity. I didn’t know he had a bad heart. He never said anything. If he had I certainly would never have—”
“Of course, you wouldn’t have,” Gabby rushed to assure her. “I know what you’re thinking and you can just stop it. It was up to Frank to resist. This has nothing to do with you.”
“But I feel just terrible. I tempted him.”
“That’s just silly, Kels. Frank’s a big boy and responsible for his own actions. You can’t give a man heart failure.”
KD couldn’t believe the ideas racing through his head. Hell, he could barely fathom the concept. If any man in the world was reliable, faithful, it was Frank Brevan. He had been an emotional rock for KD and his mother for going on twenty years.
But Kelsey Simmons was one hell of a gorgeous woman. He had himself been blindsided by her luscious curves, the silken swing of her thick, shiny hair. And why not? She had opened the door to him draped in that dress, the one she had apparently donned for Frank’s benefit. His stepfather’s sense of fidelity and honor wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against this woman hell-bent on full-tilt seduction.
And she thought she’d caused Frank’s heart attack. Only one way KD figured she could come to that conclusion, and that was that she’d seduced him half to death.
The thought of their sordid little affair made him sick to his stomach. The contempt was clear in his voice. “What do you have, a father fetish?”
Both women jolted as though they’d forgotten his presence entirely. Of course Kelsey had dismissed him from her mind. He was way too young for her.
The blonde woman, who looked like she’d swallowed a beach ball, frowned at him. “Just who are you?”
Kelsey took care of the introductions with a distracted air. “Gabby, this is KD. Laura’s son.”
“Oh.” As comprehension dawned, the scowl dropped from Gabby’s face. Immediately she jumped to Kelsey’s defense. “Don’t listen to her, she didn’t know Frank had a bad heart. Frank’s a grown man.”
“A bad heart would have stopped her? What a saint.”
“Come on, it’s not like she’s the only one in town Frank’s been coaxing sweets from.”
KD’s mouth fell open. Frank must be going through a midlife crisis. None of this was in character and he was having a hard time digesting the information. He might have come close to hitting a note only prepubescent choirboys could reach when he demanded, “You mean—he’s done this before?”
“Sure. With Mrs. Flannery when he goes to mow her lawn. Ms. Edgar when he painted her house last month.”
“Sweet Jesus, I don’t believe this.” Did everyone in town know about his stepfather’s indiscretions? Did his mother know?
He didn’t realize Kelsey was approaching him until she rested her hand in what she probably thought was a soothing touch on his arm. His bicep flinched beneath the unexpected contact. “I do hope your mother won’t be angry with me. Although I suppose she has a right to be.”
“No shit.” He uncrossed his arms, forcing off her hand. “I should think my mother has a right to be angry. I should kick your tempting tush from here to Sunday myself. Good God, Frank didn’t stand a chance against you and what you offered.”
A guilty flush rose up to color her cheeks and she recoiled, looking contrite. “I know, I know. My buns are pretty spectacular.”
“Oh, they’re spectacular alright. Not to mention the rest of you. Jesus your—” Even in his agitated state, KD balked at using the word that first sprang to mind to a woman’s face, so he gestured toward the vicinity of her chest. “I mean, what a fantastic set of…you-know-whats. Hell, woman, what man could resist you dressed like that?”
Kelsey regarded him in utter bewilderment. “You don’t think you’re overreacting, just a little maybe? And what has any of this got to do with my”—the way she shuffled her feet hinted at discomfiture, but she still managed a lofty demeanor as she finished—”set of you-know-whats?”
“If you’ve been walking around advertising them in front of Frank, they have everything to do with this.”
“Advertising?” Kelsey gasped. She tugged at the neckline of her dress, seeming as embarrassed as she was indignant. Never taking her blazing glare off KD, she said, “Gabby, I think we can conclude that the dress is too much after all.”
“Or too little,” KD muttered.
“Umm, Kelsey,” Gabby injected tentatively.
“No, it doesn’t matter what you say now, Gabby. This”—Kelsey narrowed her eyes at him—”person obviously thinks I look like a…a…”
KD detected glistening beneath the woman’s lashes and wondered how in the hell she managed to make him feel like sack of dirt with her pretense of fighting tears. It was possible she had no idea what kind of effect she had on men. Her big gold brown eyes and lush, trembly lips didn’t look like those of a ruthless homewrecker.
Wake up, KD. She was having an affair with Frank.
The sound of barely suppressed laughter made them stare at Gabby, who was covering her mouth with one hand in a vain attempt to stifle a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing.”
“Damn right,” KD concurred.
“I’m so sorry about Frank. Really. It’s just that I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Well, I’m certainly not understanding any of this,” Kelsey said. “I don’t know why this…man would be so angry over a few cakes and a bit of manual labor.”
“Cakes?” KD had the terrible premonition that he was about to end up looking like a complete jackass.
“I think,” Gabby began, no
longer hiding her amused grin, “KD has gotten the impression you’re having an affair with his stepfather.”
Chapter 2
“A—what?”
“Yes, I think so. Isn’t that what you thought, KD?” Gabby asked.
Kelsey turned on him again. “What on earth—How could you think that?”
“How could I?” KD repeated, incredulous. “How about the way you’re dressed? And you felt guilty about causing Frank’s heart attack. What am I supposed to make of that?”
“Kelsey likes to bake.”
KD flicked Gabby an irritated glance. “What?”
“You know muffins and stuff like that.”
He gritted his teeth and enunciated, “I know what baking is.”
“Righto. Well, she used to bake her special chocolate mud muffins for Frank. That’s Kelsey’s specialty. Mrs. Flannery’s is passionfruit cheesecake and Ms. Edgar’s is… Well, Ms. Edgar doesn’t actually bake anything very well, but I suppose that’s beside the point.”
The feeling that he was about to end up looking like the biggest idiot in town intensified. But KD crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to admit defeat. “What about her buns?”
“What?”
The gasped word came from Kelsey and KD turned back to face her. She looked like she wanted to throttle him and he couldn’t imagine her baking sweet treats for anyone at that moment. “Your spectacular buns. Your words, not mine,” he pointed out. Although, from what he had seen when he had followed her down the hall, he agreed. His opinion of her delicious rear aside, KD added a little feeling to his sneer. “A little stuck on yourself, aren’t you?”
Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. KD could practically hear her seething. “You…insulting, contemptuous…rude…”
When she paused, KD cordially inquired, “You need a thesaurus?”
“What I need,” she began, breathing heavily, “is a frying pan. Or a stockpot. Something really, really heavy.”
Her breasts were rising and falling inside that inadequate bodice. KD sensed it viscerally, even as he managed with some inhuman will not to leer. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why?”
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