Kissing Mr. Right

by Michelle Major

  Ty’d met women like Kendall in the past. Smart, sophisticated women who only dated guys they felt were worthy of their time and attention. Ty Bishop, landscaper, wasn’t part of that mold. But Tyler Bishop, PhD, could hold his own, and he’d wanted to prove that to Kendall.

  Liz placed a protective hand near Kendall’s elbow and eyed him suspiciously. He gave her his most disarming grin, but when her expression didn’t change, he started talking.

  “We met yesterday,” he explained. “There was an accident.”

  The woman turned to Kendall. “Dr. Bishop was involved in the car crash?”

  “Apparently,” Kendall replied cryptically.

  Ty made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It was a fender bender. No big deal. I’m sure Kendall didn’t imagine we’d run into each other again so soon.” Especially after she’d cut him off at the knees.

  The news director nodded. “Then there’s no problem with the two of you working together,” she said, her tone determined.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Ty told her, earning an approving nod.

  Kendall said nothing. She sat rigidly still across from him, staring at his resume, her fingers clenched so tightly around the corners that he thought the paper might rip in half. At any moment, Ty expected to see smoke curling from the sides of her head.

  A pang of guilt over her obvious discomfort stabbed at his conscience. He hadn’t been lying about the connection he felt, and it wasn’t just physical. Too late, he realized that intruding on the news story that meant so much to her wasn’t the smartest way to curry favor with her. It had been a long time since Ty had made a decision based on an emotional reaction, and it had led him to nothing but trouble in the past. If he was smart, he’d excuse himself right now and find another wildfire expert to take his place.

  But he couldn’t make himself leave, not with the way Kendall’s gaze had turned challenging and curious at the same time.

  “Kendall,” the news director prompted, “is this arrangement all right with you?”

  “As long as he’s serious. I won’t let anyone mess up this story.”

  “His credentials look perfect to me,” Liz answered, without a moment’s hesitation.

  Kendall’s lush mouth curved into a brittle smile as she turned to Ty. “I hope you’ve got what it takes to make this work.”

  He smiled. He liked that her spunk had returned. “I’ve got it, all right.”

  The news director ignored the crackling tension between them. “Great. Now that everything is settled, let’s get down to business.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next afternoon, Kendall sank into the cushions of her overstuffed couch with her hand cradling a pint of Rocky Road ice cream. It was the first time she’d had a chance to process the events of the prior day. From the meeting with Ty and Liz, she’d gone immediately into preparations for last night’s newscast.

  This morning she’d had a commitment to appear at a community Easter egg hunt at one of the downtown parks. It had been cold but sunny, with the kids bundled up in winter coats and hats as they searched for plastic eggs. Although she worked Monday through Friday in an official capacity, she often spent a portion of her weekend representing the station at local events. She didn’t mind the imposition because her social calendar was normally empty.

  She loaded a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and pushed the power button on the remote. CNN clicked on, but she muted the perky anchor and concentrated on the headlines that ran along the bottom of the screen.

  She jabbed her spoon back into the frozen container, digging absently for marshmallows. At this point she wasn’t sure what was most disconcerting—four blind dates in as many weeks or working with Ty Bishop.

  Once she’d recovered from her shock, the wildfire meeting had been productive and exciting. Under different circumstances, she would’ve applauded Ty’s nerve at proving wrong the woman who had dismissed him as not worthy of her precious time. Because Kendall was the woman in question, she didn’t feel so generous.

  Only she knew that the reason for her rejection hadn’t been entirely based on what he did for a living. Ok, maybe that was part of it, but not in the way Ty had assumed.

  If she had told him the truth when turning him down, it would have sounded more like, “I’ve met you twice and both times you’ve made me hornier than a fifteen year old boy. I’m afraid that if I spend any more time with you I may do something embarrassing like rip off my clothes and jump you. That sort of behavior doesn’t mesh with the image I’ve created for myself. So I’m going to go home frustrated and full of explicit fantasies starring the two of us, but at least I’ll retain my dignity.”

  Oh, yeah, that would have gone over well.

  At least then she wouldn’t have had to deal with Ty horning his way into her professional life. Even if he was perfect for the role he would play in the wildfire project.

  Just as she’d expected, Ty was able to translate his technical knowledge into terms that were both understandable and interesting to the average viewer.

  Liz and Kendall were banking on the fact that locals would be interested to see the clean-up efforts to date. On Monday morning, Kendall, Ty, and one of the Channel 8 cameramen would drive down to the burn area and begin taping segments for the series.

  The thought of spending an hour confined in a station van with Ty, then following him through the burn sites, had Kendall digging for another spoonful of Rocky Road. The spoon hit the bottom of the empty carton.

  Damn. By the time this project wrapped, Ty Bishop was going to have her not only frazzled but also fat.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. It had to be Liz with the flash drive of submissions for It’s Raining Men. Sam and Chloe were coming over later to watch since Kendall was too much of a chicken to face the videos on her own.

  She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Padding to the door, she ran her clean hand through her hair. Her fingers stuck on the elastic band she’d secured on the top of her head when she’d given herself a mini-facial earlier. She thought about pulling out the rubber band but didn’t bother.

  Although Kendall rarely went out without at least a dab of lip gloss, she knew Liz wouldn’t care how she looked. Her need to maintain a perfect image stemmed from growing up a very poor fish in a sea of rich friends. Back then she’d tried to compensate for being the girl without the right clothes, the right shoes, or the right family by always looking put together.

  “What have you got for me?” she asked, opening the door to Channel 8’s news director.

  But it wasn’t Liz who waited on the other side.

  Ty Bishop stood on her front porch with a large envelope and a stack of papers tucked under one arm. He brought his other hand around from behind his back to reveal a colorful bouquet of flowers.

  He shoved the blooms toward her. “Would you take a peace offering?”

  Stunned at the sight of him, Kendall’s fingers unconsciously curled around the large cluster, a sweet floral fragrance drifting up to her. No one ever brought her flowers. Well, Greg had on one occasion. They’d been a sorry arrangement of generic flowers from the local supermarket—she knew because he’d left the half-price tag stuck to the cellophane.

  Unlike that arrangement, the mass of stems she held in her hand was exquisite. She couldn’t name many of the blossoms that made up the bouquet, but they were the exact combination she would have chosen if designing her perfect arrangement.

  “They’re gorgeous.” She brought her face closer to enjoy the heady fragrance.

  “They reminded me of you. I’m glad you like them.”

  A thought struck her. “Did you pick these flowers and arrange them yourself?”

  One of Ty’s broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I have some flowers in my yard. Part of the job,” he told her, with a self-conscious smile. “T
hey bloomed early with the hot weather last week and needed to be cut thanks to this morning’s cold snap.”

  “You picked flowers for me,” she repeated.

  “It’s not a big deal.” His gaze lowered from hers and swept along her body, taking in her old college T-shirt and faded sweatpants. “I like the outfit.”

  She shook her head, wishing desperately for a baseball cap. “You said you wanted peace. Why would you make fun of me?”

  He looked genuinely surprised. “I’m not making fun. Honest. I’ve gotten used to watching you on the news. You’re always perfect with your suits and matching sweater things . . .”

  “Sweater sets. They’re called sweater sets.”

  “Right. It’s nice to see you looking more like the rest of us. Makes you more real.” His smile turned seductive. “I like real women.”

  She pulled on the hem of her shirt as her pulse leapt at his tone.

  Before she could form a coherent answer, Ty raised his head to peer over her shoulder. “Are you going to invite me in so I can show you the rest of what I’ve brought?”

  She looked down at the papers under his arm.

  “Some of the recent reports on the rejuvenation effort,” he told her. “Mainly statistical stuff but I thought you’d want to see it before we visit the burn area on Monday.”

  He shifted the documents as she continued to stare at him. “I stopped by the station to see if someone there could get them to you. Liz told me she had this envelope and a flash drive to drop off and gave me your address. You must be really dedicated to have work delivered on Saturday.”

  Her gaze switched to the flash drive. She tried not to let her eyes bug out of her head. Did he know what it held? She’d kill Liz for this.

  Kendall crossed her arms across her chest and leveled a steely look at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

  If Ty remembered her reason for turning down his offer of a date, he ignored it. He gave her another one of those melting smiles that made her insides turn to mush. “So can I come in?”

  After a few beats, she stepped to one side of the entry, “Oh, why not.”

  As he walked past her, Ty flicked a finger at her messy topknot. “Nice touch.”

  Mortified, Kendall’s hand flew to her hair. She yanked at the elastic band and combed her fingers through the curls that tumbled against her forehead.

  She followed Ty into her living room. He said he liked real women. Sweats and scrubby ponytails were about as real as it got in her world. I don’t care what he thinks about me, she reminded herself. He was a guy she was stuck working with, not her boyfriend.

  Glancing around the large area that served as both her living and dining room, his brows furrowed. “Did you move in recently?” he asked, indicating the open and extremely under-furnished space.

  “No. I’m a minimalist,” she explained, adopting the term Sam always used when describing Kendall’s decorating style. It was difficult to have a certain style when she refused to furnish her space. Most of her extra money went to help out her parents. Besides, she was moving to New York soon. This place was merely an investment—not a home.

  She followed Ty’s gaze, seeing her condo through his eyes. She was so used to having almost nothing that she’d gotten used to it. A slipcover draped the couch in a soft beige fabric, and two occasional chairs in sage green and a cherrywood coffee table sat in front of a built-in entertainment center that held a television, stereo, a few pillar candles, and one framed photo of Kendall with her two best friends.

  The photo had been a birthday gift from Chloe, who was horrified by Kendall’s indifference toward decorating. Like everything else in her life, she’d put her desire to furnish her home on hold, reasoning that the style that fit her spacious Denver condo, with its vaulted ceilings and maple floors, wouldn’t be the same if she was living in a small apartment in New York City.

  Ty’s brows rose at her description, but he didn’t argue. He nodded at the muted television screen. “What are you watching?”

  She gritted her teeth, knowing how the answer would sound. “CNN. I have it on almost all the time. Geeky, I know, since there are so many news outlets available. But I like watching other journalists and how they present themselves and the news.”

  He nodded and sat in one of the upholstered chairs that flanked the sofa. “You’re dedicated,” he said quietly. “I like that.”

  A surge of electricity radiated from his gaze that made goose bumps spring up on Kendall’s arms. “You said you came here with a peace offering.” She needed to change the subject before she melted into the couch. “But I probably deserved what you did to me.”

  He blinked a couple of times before answering, as if he’d also been trapped in the current that flowed between them. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said finally, his tone innocent. The effect was ruined when he winked at her.

  “Be honest. You got yourself on the Silver Creek project because you were mad I wouldn’t go out with you when I thought you were a gardener.”

  “Am I more your type with a couple of letters behind my name?”

  “Yes. I mean, no.” She shook her head. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

  “And that’s bad because . . .”

  “That’s bad because I need to believe you’re not a part of the story only to get back at me. This assignment is important, Ty, and not just because of what it means to my career. The Silver Creek community went through hell during the fire. Those people need to be recognized for how they’ve rebuilt their community.”

  His gaze turned serious. “I understand the importance of Silver Creek. There’s no one better than me for this project.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted, “but for your professional reputation only. As for the rest of you . . .” She waved her hand in front of him. “You’re a distraction I can’t afford right now. I’ve got three blind dates looming and need to do my best to retain my dignity so I can be taken seriously in New York. I don’t have time for personal complications.”

  He lifted his palm in front of his mouth and pretended to yawn.

  She tried another tack. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It isn’t what you do for a living that made me say no to a date. Like I asked in the coffee shop, why do you even care? I’m sure you have lots of women who’d like to date you. Why bother with me?”

  He shook his head. “Princess, I’ve been asking myself that same question for the past two days.”

  “I am not a princess,” she muttered.

  He stood and walked the two steps that separated the chair from the sofa. When he sat next to her, his denim-clad knee brushed the thin cotton fabric of her sweatpants. A flash of heat shot through her and she looked down at her leg, half expecting the material to have been singed by the light contact.

  When she looked up, Ty was watching her with an unreadable expression. His eyes were dilated, making them look almost more black than blue. This close she could see the fine network of lines that spread out from their corners. She wanted to trace those lines with her finger and run her hand along the hard contour of his jaw where sand-colored stubble covered his skin.

  His gaze traveled across her face as if she were the main dish on his favorite restaurant’s menu. “I don’t know what it is, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the crash.” He touched his finger to the tip of her nose. “You are the most irritating woman I’ve ever met,” he murmured as his eyes devoured her. “Stubborn, snooty, argumentative . . .”

  She started to move away. “Is this your idea of sweet talk? I’m shocked you’re still on the market.”

  Ty caught the material of her T-shirt between two fingers and pulled her back. “Let me finish. You are also exciting, passionate, hardworking, smart, and sexy. Jesus, sexy should be at the top of the list. You’ve got me t
ied in knots.” He smiled. “You say the word ratings and it’s like you’re talking dirty.”

  “Ratings, ratings, ratings.”

  A wide grin spread across his face. “There you go again with your combative nature.”

  His features blurred as he brought his face closer to hers. He was going to kiss her. At this moment, she wanted his mouth on hers more than she wanted the regional Emmy, more than she wanted the job in New York, more than she wanted to breathe.

  The realization terrified her.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  He stopped a hair’s breadth from her mouth. He said nothing, made no move to back away, made no move closer. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, his voice thick.

  “Shhh,” she whispered. “I need to think.”

  “You think too much.”

  Kendall watched his mouth form the words. God, his mouth was beautiful. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she did exactly what she wanted to with no thought to the consequences. She traced the seam of his lips with her tongue. She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the tightly reined desire pulsing through him. His lips were as soft as the petals of the flowers he’d given her, a sharp contrast to his hard-etched features and lean body. They tasted like salt and man and ChapStick. She licked her way from corner to corner while Ty stayed perfectly still.

  When she finished her exploration, she ran her tongue across her own lips and covered his mouth with her own. Still he remained motionless.

  “Why aren’t you kissing me back?” she asked against his mouth.

  “You said no. I’m waiting for you to tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

  She met his gaze and smiled. He was letting her choose, allowing her to set the boundaries.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said against his mouth.

  In an instant she was on her back, Ty balanced above her.

  He cradled her head between his hands, as if reminding her with the touch of his callused skin who he was. A man who worked with his hands, who spent most days outside with the sun beating down to etch those lines along the corners of his eyes, those lines that fascinated her.