“You want me to coach?”
“Sure, it’s not as if you’ve forgotten how to play the game, Captain.”
Kyle smiled. He’d been the captain of the team during that last awe-inspiring, memorable season. Helping Jim with the team would seem like old times. Not that Kyle liked to live in the past. He’d made a success of himself by looking to the future. But he didn’t need to be at Warren’s Hardware all day. He could spare his friend some time and maybe have some fun while doing so.
“An hour or two after school is all we’ll need. Think you can manage that?”
“I’d sure like to help. Sounds like fun. But I can’t make a long-range commitment.”
“Fine, let’s take it one day at a time.”
“Okay,” he said with a grin. Jim shook his hand again.
“Great. Be here tomorrow at three o’clock.”
“Will do.” Kyle scratched at the stubble on his face. “Tell me something, Jim. What do you know about Christy Evans these days?”
“Christy?” Jim’s face became guarded.
“Yeah, you’ve lived here all of your life. What goes with Christy?”
“She went to college in New York, then some fancy cooking school. She stayed on a while there to teach home economics. She claimed she hated big-city life so about four years ago, her parents offered her their house when they retired. She didn’t blink an eyelash leaving the East Coast. She came back home to Arizona. The school’s administration tried to get her to come on staff, but she was determined to make a go of her catering business. The woman can cook.”
Kyle nodded in agreement. “She sure can.”
Jim looked to Kyle in surprise. “Of course, you’d know,” he scoffed. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?”
Kyle didn’t understand the note of irritation in Jim’s voice. He pursed his lips. “We had a neighborly dinner, recently. She’d been a good friend to Pop.” He wouldn’t add that he’d be seeing her tonight, too. “So, is she seeing anyone?”
Jim lowered his head and glared at the shiny gymnasium floor. “Yeah, she’s seeing someone. Me.”
Kyle’s mouth dropped open. Now he understood Jim’s guarded answers, his annoyance.
“Really, are you two an item?”
“I wish.” Jim craned his neck, as if to work out the kinks. “We became good friends after my divorce. But she’d made it clear we are just that...friends. God, sometimes I hate that word. I’ve been helping her out with something.”
“Ah, the recipes. So, you’re her scientific source.”
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m surprised she told you about her venture. It’s no secret or anything, but Christy’s a private woman.”
Kyle nodded. “I kind of found out by accident.”
Jim eyed him for a moment. “She’s kind-hearted and sweet.”
Kyle drew in a sharp breath, not wanting to lose his temper with his friend. The note of warning Jim put in his tone was unwarranted. “You didn’t always think so.”
Color rose up in Jim’s face. Chagrined, he said, “That was a long time ago. She’s forgiven me.”
“That’s good, but I never believed any of it for one second. Not one damn second.”
* * * * *
Christy called Kyle’s name from behind his screen door, holding a stack of her notes and research papers. Pop’s grandfather clock chimed the six o’clock hour from the parlor. She was right on time.
“Come on in, Christy. I’m in the den.”
She let herself in, bypassing the parlor and kitchen to find Kyle sitting at the computer. He seemed immersed in what he was doing. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he greeted her. “Hi there.”
“Hi.”
“I downloaded some software I think will work for you. This computer’s pretty fast.”
“Don’t you need it for your own work?” Pop always said how Kyle was rarely out of reach of his own computer. That boy is always working, he’d say, but with pride in his voice for all Kyle had accomplished.
“My laptop is in my bedroom. Unlike you, I don’t go anywhere without it.” He turned to finally look at her, and granted her a wide teasing grin.
Her heartbeats reacted to that lady-killing smile by racing faster.
He shoved aside some papers and made room for her notes. “Here,” he said, his tone more serious now. “Let me take those.”
He reached for her notes and, as their fingers brushed, Christy was hit with a slight jolt. The hint of spicy aftershave teased her nostrils and when he shot her another quick smile, a sudden tremble coursed through her body.
Get over it, Christy, she thought. Kyle Warren is not for you.
He set the stack down, ignoring her again to view the computer screen, and Christy admonished herself for letting her imagination run rampant. Kyle had never thought her attractive, had never been interested. She suspected he was helping her out of some misguided duty, because she’d been Pop’s good friend.
And that was all right with her. She didn’t need Kyle Warren complicating her life.
“Okay,” he said, hitting a key on the computer. “All set. Have a seat. You’re ready to roll.”
He stood up and, before she knew what he was doing, he gave her shoulders a little push. She unceremoniously plopped into the black swivel computer chair, stared at the screen, and then at the mound of notes she’d brought along. On a shudder she inquired, “Can I take a rain check?”
“No more procrastinating. Tonight’s the night. Get started.”
Kyle left her alone for a while. The work went slowly, but she could already see the progress. Her hard work looked so much more official on-screen. More real. She was really doing this. She was writing a book.
“How are you doing?” Kyle asked, when he returned. The scent of charcoal wafted in the air and teased her senses, but nothing teased her more than having Kyle close, leaning over, viewing her latest entry on the screen. Christy studied his profile and was certain he wouldn’t catch her admiring him. She’d already figured out that when Kyle Warren was absorbed in a project, he put all his attention into it.
Lord, he was handsome. His features could vie with a male cover model’s—chiseled jaw, sharp masculine nose, deep-set dark eyes. His smile disarmed, and his healthy body seemed to be perfectly proportioned, if one was into that sort of thing.
Minutes later, Kyle lifted his nose in the air. “Uh-oh, I hope that’s not burning burgers I’m smelling. I’ll be right back.”
Christy continued on with her work. She’d picked up the charred scent the same moment Kyle had and knew by instinct the meal was ruined. In the early days while in culinary school, Christy had had her fair share of destroyed meals.
“Well, I could always sell them as hockey pucks.” He came back with the platter of blackened discs.
“Oh, sorry,” she said chuckling. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”
With huskiness in his voice, he said, “Distract me, Christy. Distract me.”
His gaze bore into hers, and a wave of heat coursed straight through her.
“What do you say I take you out for dinner?”
Christy rebelled against the thought. He was too handsome, too charming and there was something else. His vulnerability at this time in his life made her feel things for him she probably shouldn’t. “I’m really going strong here, and I’m not very hungry. Why don’t you go? I’ll be fine.”
“Listen woman, you have to eat something some time, and I invited you over.”
“To work, not to eat.”
He groaned. “Come on, Christy. Cut me some slack.”
She took her eyes off her work to gaze up at him. “Okay, Crazy’s still makes a pretty good sandwich. Why not get takeout?”
“Crazy’s? Yeah, that does sound good. Do they still load the subs up with dill pickles and tomatoes?”
“Loads. They’re not stingy.”
“You want the usual?”
“Sure do, Crazy’s Original.”
&n
bsp; He smiled, bent, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Stunned, Christy sat there staring at the computer screen that had just gone blank. Like her mind. He’d kissed her. He’d actually, casually, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, kissed her.
Don’t blow it out of proportion, Christy, she cautioned herself. It was just an innocent peck on the cheek, between two friends. But was Kyle her friend? And it wasn’t as though Pop hadn’t done that very thing countless times in the past. Like father, like son?
Hardly.
Kyle Warren was a dangerous man dressed in the guise of her neighbor. She shouldn’t forget her mistakes. She’d hooked up unsuspectingly with men like Kyle in the past, and the results had been disastrous.
The time flew by as Christy made some good headway with her work. She was so engrossed in her task she nearly jumped out of her seat when Kyle came up behind her.
“Dinner, at your service, ma’am.”
She swallowed up her sandwich hurriedly and went back to work. Kyle sat down on the sofa and clicked on the television. “Just want to catch the Suns game on the tube. I’ll mute it, so you won’t be disturbed.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll finish up here.”
“Are you tired?”
“Not really.”
“Then keep working. I know how hard it is to quit once you get going.”
“I have to admit this is great. I feel a sense of accomplishment. But I’m afraid I’ve only made a small dent. This might take a while.”
“Not a problem for me. For you?” He treated her to one of his many winning smiles. Slumped lazily on the sofa, with legs outstretched, he didn’t appear to be disturbed by her presence here.
She shook her head. “No, not for me, either.”
“Damn,” he said, glancing at the television. Apparently a play had caught his attention. “Just shoot the doggone ball. And get it in the basket this time!”
Christy smiled and turned back to her work. What seemed like a short time later, she stopped to take a break, stretching her arms over her head and wiggling her toes. She made head circles, loosening up her neck and shoulders and glanced at the digital clock on the computer screen.
Eleven-thirty!
She couldn’t believe the time. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been working. Turning around quickly, she caught sight of Kyle sprawled out on the sofa, sound asleep. The basketball game, now long over, had been replaced by a late-night war movie.
Christy quietly shut down the computer and then clicked off the television. She walked to the sofa and stood over him for several seconds, wondering if she should wake him. He looked so peaceful, so boyishly innocent resting there.
Pop’s cozy afghan lay nestled in the corner of his room. She retrieved it and nimbly placed the crocheted blanket over Kyle, tucking it carefully under his chin.
“Goodnight, Kyle,” she whispered.
He snuggled deeper into the cushions and made a small grunting sound. Christy bit her lip in amusement and walked out the door, making sure to lock up behind her.
It wasn’t until she reached her own house that she realized, she’d forgotten all about the dessert she had promised Kyle.
Chapter Three
Christy heard a lawn mower’s loud grating hum and looked out her back kitchen window. She wiped her hands on her apron and then decided to remove it altogether. Tucking back a few strands of hair that had fallen onto her face, she glanced at her muted reflection on the tempered glass of her oven door, checking her appearance. Somewhat satisfied, she ventured out the back door and peeked over the five-foot fence that separated her yard from Kyle’s.
He was busy with the mower, cutting slash marks across the tall grass that had overgrown from neglect. She watched him push the mower with relative ease, then stop every so often to wipe his brow. The Arizona sun was hot, even at eight o’clock in the morning. What she hadn’t expected was to catch him lifting his T-shirt over his head to fling it across the rear fence. Muscles rippled under the sun’s glare, and his body glistened from a light coating of perspiration.
Christy sought him out only to thank him for last night. But when he swiveled his head and their eyes met something electric passed between them. The connection lingered and her head swam with luscious thoughts.
He smiled, of course. A dazzler. Then he lifted a hand to wave. When she returned his greeting he strode the distance of the yard to face her.
“Morning,” he said. His cheerful voice belied the enveloping heat and the early hour.
“Hello there. You’re sure up early.”
He scanned the expanse of the yard. “Yeah, the place needed a good haircut. It was beginning to look like a meadow back here. Boy, it’s hot.”
“Summer always comes early here. Did you forget?”
“Guess so. We don’t have weather like this in Boston until July. But I like the heat.” He lifted his face skyward. “And the sunshine.”
“Me too. I should probably let you get back to the yard. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He waved her off. “I could stand a break,” he said, flashing white teeth in a smile. “So interrupt away.”
“Well, I did want to thank you for last night. And I also wanted to apologize.”
“You’re welcome. I was glad to help.” Deep lines marred his forehead when he cast her a quizzical look. “But why apologize?”
“You were very gracious to me and patient. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to set me up with that computer program. But I took advantage of you last night.”
He let out a low groan, peering at her with a narrowed mischievous gaze. “You mean while I was asleep? Darn it, I knew I should have fought harder to keep my eyes open. When a woman takes advantage of me, I’d like to be awake enough to enjoy it.”
“Kyle! Would you get serious?” She had a difficult time keeping the amusement from her voice.
He folded his arms on the wooden fence and leaned close. Muscled biceps stared her in the face.
“Okay, okay. So how do you think you took advantage of me?”
“I overstayed my welcome.”
“Did not.”
“Did so.”
“You’re welcome any time. And thanks for tucking me in.” He shot her an impish grin.
Christy blushed down to her toes. “I didn’t think I should wake you. And you looked like you needed, uh—”
“Cuddling?”
She cleared her throat. “Covering.”
He laughed. “What time are you coming over tonight?”
Surprised by his automatic assumption, she replied, “I didn’t know that I was.”
This time he seemed surprised. “You don’t want to continue logging the recipes in?”
“Oh, well, sure,” she said, keeping her cool. She’d made an instant wrong assumption—thinking he was asking her over for reasons other than work. But she’d managed to cover nicely. “What time is convenient?”
“Want dinner?”
She shook her head slowly. “That’s not necessary. You’re doing enough already. I’ll come by after dinner, say seven-thirty.”
Kyle’s eyes flickered, and for one moment he’d actually appeared disappointed. “Okay. Seven-thirty.”
Christy smiled hesitantly. “Oh, and this time I promise, I will bring over dessert. I made a healthy, low-fat chocolate soufflé this morning.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I didn’t think there was such a thing.”
“My very own creation,” she replied proudly. “Eight grams of fat, only two hundred and seventy calories.”
“I’m there,” Kyle said eagerly, “and very impressed.”
“Taste it first and then tell me how impressed you are.”
With his dark gaze fastened to hers, he drawled lazily, “You sure I can’t interest you in dinner?”
Oh yes, Christy thought wryly. You can interest me in more than dinner. “No,
really. I’ll be over at seven-thirty. And I promise not to overstay my welcome.”
“You couldn’t do that. Ever.”
As he turned and strode away, Christy sighed deeply, noting that Kyle Warren was just as impressive from the backside.
* * * * *
Kyle stood behind the counter at Warren’s Hardware, taking inventory. But he couldn’t keep his mind on the numbers. Thoughts of Christy Evans kept intruding.
Damn, he liked that woman. What was it about her he liked so much? Pretty? Yes. But there’d been other even more beautiful women in his life. Smart? That, too. He admired her dedication to her job, her work. But his feelings for her went deeper than that. He enjoyed her company—she was easy to talk to, and fun. She matched his teasing, word for word, never letting him get the better of her. Never cutting him a break.
He found himself looking forward to spending time with her each day. Funny, they’d only been reacquainted for a few days, but he felt kinship with her. Pop used to speak about her whenever he’d come up to Boston. And Kyle had the feeling his father, if given the opportunity, would have enjoyed playing the matchmaker.
He chuckled thinking back now on all the subtle hints, and the not-so-subtle hints, his old man had thrown his way. “Christy deserves a good man, son. Why don’t you pay me a visit next week?” Or, “I’ve got the perfect woman living right next door to me.”
It had been a long time since Kyle allowed himself to become interested in a woman. He’d played the field long ago, but as he matured he realized he wanted more than frivolous relationships.
But Christy didn’t seem interested in the least. She hadn’t been the first woman to turn him down. But, he was willing to bet she would hold the record on denying his advances. What was with Christy anyway? Kyle was certain something was going on in her pretty blonde head. He’d like to know what. Hell, he’d like to break down those walls she’d constructed around herself.
It couldn’t be because of what happened all those years ago? Ancient history.
Or could it?
“How’s the calculating going there, Boss?” Flo asked as she walked up to the counter, bringing his head back to his task.
Smooth-Talking the Hometown Girl Page 3