by Julie Kenner
“And…”
She had the good grace to look a bit sheepish. “And I hadn’t heard from you in a few days. I thought I’d see how you were doing. And Grace, too.”
And there it was. He knew Emily wouldn’t come by without an agenda, and he was relieved that it was a matchmaking one and not that she brought bad news.
“I haven’t seen Grace in a few days,” he said. He kept his voice matter-of-fact. He knew better than to let his tone even hint that he wanted to see the woman. If Emily got wind of the fact that he didn’t know how to locate Grace, she’d have everyone from the Sheriff’s Department to the Canadian Mounties pitching in to help.
Though, to be honest, there were times when he would appreciate the assistance. Because he did want to see her again. And it was taking a heck of a lot of willpower not to call in some favors with his cop buddies and see if they could track down a slim brunette with a record of cat burglary.
The frown lines at Emily’s mouth deepened. “Did you two quarrel?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression but the truth is we really didn’t know each other that well.” He thought of the kiss they’d shared and wished they’d known each other just a bit better. He cleared his throat, hoping the action would clear his brain, too. “I was just helping her out of a bind.”
“I see.” She stood, her handbag clutched near her chest as she started to pace the room.
He watched her for a moment, then broke down and asked, certain he’d regret it. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no.” But her voice was a little too sing-song, so of course he didn’t believe her. Besides, he knew exactly what was wrong. She’d assumed that he and Grace were an item and that her matchmaking days had come to a close. Now that she knew he was still on the market, he imagined her running through a mental Rolodex and wondered when she’d spring the next woman on him.
The possibility held even less appeal than usual, and he had to acknowledge the deep, dark truth—if any woman was going to be tossed into his life, he wanted the woman to be Grace. Foolish, considering he knew very little about the woman—with the very glaring exception of her felonious past—but there was no denying the impact she’d made on him.
“Résumés?”
He glanced up, startled back to attention, and saw his grandmother holding the sheath of papers.
“Yeah. I need an office assistant.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, the first applicant should be here by now. The placement agency already has about ten interviews lined up for today.”
“You’re spending the whole day interviewing?”
“Yeah. Why? Are you applying for the job?”
He was making a joke, but Emily didn’t seem to get it. Instead of laughing, she simply frowned. “Not me, of course. But an assistant. Hmm. Why, yes. Yes, I think that could work.”
He studied her. “Grandma, what the hell are you talking about?”
“To help you out, I mean. You obviously need an assistant.” She flashed him her most dazzling smile, then patted his cheek. “You do look overworked.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“And now I simply must be going.”
“You just got here.”
“Errands,” she said. “And you have your interviews.” She paused in the doorway. “Good luck, dear. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect woman.”
And then she was gone. And Kyle was left with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been talking about an office assistant at all.
* * *
MEL’S NOSE TWITCHED. That aroma, that smell. That delicious elixir.
She snuggled under the blanket, her hazy mind forced to choose between the lingering dream of Kyle and the very real smell of coffee wafting around her.
Coffee? She hadn’t set the coffeepot to brew.
She peeled her eyes open to the wonderful sight of a full mug swaying under her nose.
“’Allo, my dear. Sleep tight?”
She sat up and grabbed the mug from Gramps, sloshing drops of coffee onto her jammies as she greedily took her first gulp. She swallowed. Ahhh. She might survive the morning after all.
“Who are you today?”
He threw back his shoulders and smoothed his thin, gray mustache. “I’m Cary Grant. To Catch a Thief. Can’t you tell?”
She clutched the mug tighter and searched his face for a clue that he knew about Kyle and his nickname for her. Nothing, thank goodness. Probably just a coincidence that Gramps picked today to be Cary.
She took another sip. She didn’t mind Gramps delivering coffee in bed. But she would have enjoyed another hour or two with Kyle twirling her around the dance floor in her dreams. She sighed. Three days had passed since he’d dropped her at the bus stop, and every night she’d lost herself in his arms.
Her dreams overflowed with Kyle, and when Gramps had woken her, she still hadn’t had her fill of him. Too bad, too, considering the only place she intended to see Kyle Radley again was in her dreams. No matter how much she liked him, no matter how much she craved him, there couldn’t be anything between them. Not only did they come from two completely different worlds, but he knew her biggest secret. And rule number one was to never, ever get involved with anyone who knew she was or ever had been a thief.
Too bad. At twenty-five she was hardly a wall-flower, but never once had she been out with a man who’d set her on fire all the way to her toes. And with nothing more than a look. When he’d actually touched her, she’d just about melted.
Kyle Radley was a walking, talking recipe for a good time. Too bad he couldn’t be her good time.
She shook her head, trying to dissolve thoughts of Kyle along with the cotton in her brain. She took another slug of coffee. That helped. A little, anyway.
“So what are you doing here?” She’d told him that the necklace was safely back with Frances, and he seemed fine with that. Hopefully he wasn’t here to announce the acquisition of yet another priceless birthday present.
“I’m getting you up, girl. What does it look like I’m doing?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You want to tell me why?”
“Betsy called. She’s got some job she thinks you’d be perfect for.”
“All right. I’ll bite. Who’s Betsy, and why is she finding me jobs?”
“A friend of a friend. Owns a placement agency in Los Angeles. I thought maybe she could help you out, and it looks like I was right.”
“Really? That’s great. Thanks.”
“I’m supposed to make sure you get there by one.” He aimed a disapproving glance toward her digital clock, clearly not impressed by her penchant for sleeping till noon.
Of course, he didn’t know that she’d stayed up until three sending her résumé by e-mail to dozens of places she’d located on the Web. A long shot, but maybe she’d get a nibble.
A huge yawn sneaked up on her and she blinked a few more times, trying to wake up. Another hit of the coffee helped, and she let the warm liquid bring her slowly back to life.
She glanced over toward the clock, and reality filtered through her hazy brain. “There’s no way I can make it in time.” Too bad, too. She had no idea what sort of job this Betsy woman had lined up, but Mel was determined not to be picky.
“Nonsense. You’ve got plenty of time.” He turned to her bookcase and grabbed a tall glass filled with something thick and green. “Here’s your breakfast. Chock-full o’ vitamins. Fixed it myself.” He handed her the glass, then thumped his chest. “Not too tasty, but what a kick.”
Her nose crinkled as she sniffed it. Somewhere between spinach and battery acid. “Um…I’m not really hungry.”
“Fine, fine. More time to get ready.” He waved his hand toward her closet. Her best suit was hanging on the back of the door. Really, the man had more energy than a two-year-old.
“All right. You win.” She held out her mug. “Did you bring reinforcements?”
“Did Clark Gable give
a damn?” He poured a refill from a thermos he’d left on her chest of drawers.
“Gable didn’t give a damn, Gramps, so the answer would be no. But you did bring more coffee.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Did you understand what I meant?”
“Well, sure.”
“Then hush up and respect your elders.”
She grinned toward the floor. Nothing irritated Gramps more than getting caught messing up a movie quote.
She shuffled toward the bathroom, nibbling on her thumbnail and considering Gramps’s grand gesture. “So why the sudden foray into job placement? Did you finally realize that I’m never going to manage to find one on my own?”
She frowned at her reflection, then ran a brush through her hair. She’d showered the night before and slept on it wet. Perfect recipe for a bad hair day.
His heavy sigh seeped through the closed door. “I worry about you. And you’re concerned about those taxes. I know. I see.”
She grinned, positive there was more to it than that. “And?”
He cleared his throat. “And maybe I’m trying to hurry things along.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that until you’ve found a job and settled down, you won’t be dating. And until you start dating you won’t find a husband. And without a husband, I won’t get great-grandchildren.”
An image of Miss Emily’s friends hovering over her and Kyle flashed in her mind. She opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out. “What is it with your generation, anyway? Haven’t you got anything better to do than play matchmaker?”
“I’m old and feeble. Meddling in your love life keeps me occupied.”
She ran her gaze over him. Sharp eyes, strong shoulders, a thin, wiry body covered with a gray sweat suit, and two-pound ankle weights on each leg. Not a feeble bone or thought within a hundred miles.
“Liar,” she said, smiling.
“All right,” he said. “So I’m not feeble. I still want the great-grandchildren.”
That she believed. The truth was, she wanted to give them to him.
And it was exactly because she did want a family that she needed to find a job on the right side of the law. She needed to get moving on her new life. A life where she could sweep the past away and start over fresh. A life where, if someone asked her what she did, she didn’t have to lie.
She craved that life, would do anything to have it. Even give up the thrill of her former life for it. She had to, because the alternative was just too horrible. True, Gramps did okay, but she’d seen the hurt in his eyes when people shunned him because of his reputation. In the Hollywood heyday, he’d been a mystery, the dashing young extra who might or might not have been “The Cat.” But Hollywood had changed, and so had the way people looked at Gramps. Both the ones who knew and the ones who only suspected.
Mel had heard all the stories and had seen enough with her own eyes to know full well how a person’s past could haunt them. How friends and family you believed knew you and loved you would suddenly shun you. Her own parents had refused to let Gramps see her. It had been an ironic twist of fate that had left him to raise her from the age of eleven after her parents had been killed in a car accident.
She wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to her. Gramps had stayed in the game too long, and now he was a loner. Not Mel. She was already retired, and she was starting over. A new life. A new career. Her past was going to remain her secret. And she’d do what she had to, to keep it that way.
And the first step was to get a real job.
No matter how boring, tedious and monotonous it was.
* * *
THE WOMAN SITTING across from Kyle shifted, a bright smile plastered on her face as she clutched a fake leather portfolio in her lap. She was a bit gawky and awkward, but she seemed to know her stuff, and that was all he cared about.
He stole a glance at her résumé, trying to remember her name. “So, uh, Terri, why did you leave your last job?”
She licked her lips and didn’t quite meet his eyes when she answered. “My boyfriend and I, we moved to Irvine. And, well, I didn’t want to make the commute all the way up to Burbank every day, so…” Her voice trailed off.
He nodded, then cleared his throat as he flipped through the file Betsy had sent over. Terri had been trained on all the basic office software and had a glowing recommendation from her former employer, the CEO of a small manufacturing company in the San Fernando Valley. She’d interacted with clients, answered phones, performed various secretarial functions. Basically everything that Kyle needed.
Except for the fact that carrying on a conversation with her was more painful than dredging up chit-chat at a cocktail party, the woman really was perfect.
And it wasn’t as if he actually needed someone in the office that he could talk with. True, it would just be the three of them, him and Brent and the new assistant, but he wasn’t looking for a friend. He was looking for an efficient, competent employee.
He’d seen three girls that morning and had a fourth due at one o’clock. Not a huge sampling, he knew, but so far this one seemed to have all the basic skills even if she was painfully, awkwardly shy.
He asked her what kind of benefits and time off she wanted, then flipped through the remaining résumés while she answered. Most of the applicants were lacking in some area, and he wondered if he should simply cancel their interviews. Only the one Betsy had faxed a few hours earlier looked as if it had potential. Melissa Tanner’s overall qualifications looked great. Hopefully, she’d have some personality, too.
A chime sounded, a signal that someone had entered the reception area adjoining Kyle’s office. Kyle sighed, then stood. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said to Terri. “I think the next applicant is early.”
He stepped into the reception area…and then stopped short.
There she was. The woman he’d scoured Laguna Beach for. The woman he’d spent three days fantasizing about. His Grace. Standing there all prim and proper in her conventional green suit, looking just as surprised as he felt.
He stepped forward, desperately afraid that she would bolt, then held out his hand in an attempt at bland professionalism. “Melissa Tanner, I presume? I’m Kyle Radley.” He smiled. “How very nice to meet you.”
CHAPTER 6
MEL DIDN’T USUALLY find herself tongue-tied, but even she would be the first to admit that this wasn’t the usual situation. Far from usual, it was instead both supremely fortuitous and supremely awkward. Awkward because she’d told herself that she really shouldn’t see Kyle Radley again. Fortuitous because she’d been dying to do that very thing. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she’d wanted to wrap herself in his arms just one more time.
And now here he was. Looking fabulous…and sexy…and, dear Lord, she was in trouble now.
She cleared her throat, trying for casual. “I, um, understand you have a job opening.”
His eyes never left hers. “You’re a hard woman to locate, Gracie Melissa Tanner.”
“Yes, well, I—” She blinked, then stumbled over her own thoughts. “You were looking for me?” The knowledge sent a little trill of pleasure shooting down her spine and she stood up straighter.
“As a matter of fact, I was.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
The heat in his eyes gave the answer away, and she felt her cheeks burn. “Oh.” She licked her lips. “Kyle, we can’t…I mean, I can’t…” Getting involved with this man would be a bad idea. She needed to keep reminding herself of that.
She lifted her chin, steeling her heart at the same time. “I need a job. That’s why I’m here.”
“A job. Right.” He held up a finger. “Excuse me a second.”
Mel watched, baffled, as he disappeared into the back room, then came out moments later with a woman at his side. He showed her to the door, promised to be in touch and then closed the door after her.
When he turned back to her, Mel rais
ed an eyebrow. “My competition?”
“I’ve got a lot of interviews lined up today,” he said, which only partly answered the question.
“I see.” Mel crossed her arms over her chest, her pleasure at seeing Kyle dissipating as she remembered why she was there. A job. Property taxes. Food. All her other expenses and plans.
She wasn’t a shoo-in no matter how much she wanted to be. For that matter, considering he knew her deep dark little secret, she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t leave right then.
No. This was the best lead on a job she had, and she wasn’t going to blow it.
Determined, she slid her résumé out of her thin leather briefcase, crossed to the receptionist desk, and dropped it onto the desk blotter. “I can type over a hundred words a minute, and I’m proficient in Excel, Word, Access…” She counted the programs off on her fingers. “Pretty much you name it. But I don’t do dictation.” She smiled at him, all bright and cheery. “Not really my thing.” Of course, the truth was that none of it was her thing. But she was determined to get a job and to like it. “Well?” she prodded.
He didn’t say anything, just leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
Fine. He needed a little convincing. No problem.
She took a seat in the receptionist’s chair, arranged her résumé neatly on the desk, then took two pens out of her purse and sat them alongside it. She picked up the phone, frowned at the odd configuration of buttons, then shook her head at him. “You really ought to upgrade. This system is ancient.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
“Good.” She clasped her hands on the desk in front of her, church-and-steeple style. “Look, just hire me, okay? I know what I’m doing. You won’t be disappointed.” She felt a little pathetic begging for the job, but she was out of options. Unless she wanted Gramps and her out on the street, she was either going to convince Kyle to put her on the payroll or she was going to have to revert to her old career.
And that was something she’d promised herself she’d never do.
She was just gearing up for another round of pleading, when the front door opened and a tall, lanky man with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose stepped into the room. He held a Taco Bell bag in one hand and looked much more like he belonged in a cornfield than an office.