Kisses And Kids (Congratulations Series #1)

by Andrea Edwards

  It was such a shock to see her right on the heels of thinking about her that his mind had trouble shifting gears. He kept thinking he’d conjured her up and wanted to ask if she’d suddenly found herself transported there. Luckily a bit of sanity crept in and he just said, “How are you, Trisha?”

  “So you’re the nice young man that took Trisha camping,” the older woman said. “I saw you on television last week. Such a good job you’re doing for the county.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” He paused. “Mrs. Stewart, is it?”

  “Yes, but most people call me Connie.” The woman stuck her hand out while glaring at Trisha. “I don’t know what’s with my daughter. Normally she’s not as ashamed of me as she is today.”

  “I’m not ashamed of you,” Trisha protested. “I’m just not used to you running men down in the street.”

  She looked decidedly uncomfortable and that surprised Pat. She was normally so in control. He rather enjoyed seeing her flustered for a change. Especially after the way she’d been manipulating him.

  Connie was making a face at her daughter. “Hey, he’s a celebrity. My chasing him is the price of fame.”

  He smiled at them both. “I’d call it a benefit instead of a cost,” he said smoothly.

  “Why, aren’t you nice?” Connie patted him on the arm. “Isn’t he nice, Trisha?”

  Trisha looked as if she was trying to swallow a bitter pill. “He’s a real sweetie pie, Mother.”

  Connie shook her head at her daughter before smiling at Pat. “She’s usually a lot nicer.”

  “I think she’s very nice,” Pat said.

  The red in Trisha’s cheeks deepened, if that was possible. But then a couple coming out of the bakery maneuvered around them and Trisha’s eyes took on a look of relief. “We’re in the way here, Mother. We’d better be going.”

  “Okay, okay.” Connie turned toward Pat. “We’re looking for a dress for Trisha. She’s going to that United Way dinner at the Century Center Saturday night and was going to wear the same dress she’s worn for the last two years. Everyone would think she’s got no clothes. Or no taste.”

  Trisha looked in pain but Pat managed to hold back a laugh. It was definitely payback time. “Oh, I think most of us would be more charitable than that.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be there, too?” Connie asked. “Are you taking that Miss Indiana woman?”

  “Mother.”

  “Well, they were together on television,” Connie pointed out.

  “No,” Pat replied. “That was just a stunt for the cameras. We’re not that close. I’m going alone.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. That’s the same thing Trisha’s doing,” Connie said.

  “Mother.”

  “And it’s so inefficient,” Connie said, going on as if Trisha hadn’t just moaned in pain. “Everybody going in their own car. The pollution, the parking. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Pat said, “it certainly doesn’t.”

  “People should form car pools.”

  “We could all ride our bikes,” Trisha suggested sharply. “Or maybe rent a school bus to drive around and pick everyone up.”

  Connie leaned closer to Pat. “She’s being sarcastic.”

  Pat nodded. “I thought so. She doesn’t seem to understand that individually we don’t make that much of an impact, but together we can change the world.”

  Trisha looked ready to gag. “You know we really should be going,” she said to her mother.

  “I guess I failed,” Connie said with a touch of sadness in her voice. “I tried to teach her about conservation and saving the environment.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Pat assured her. “I’ve noticed she’s a trifle stubborn about things.”

  “Thickheaded is more like it.”

  “You know, I am still here,” Trisha pointed out.

  Pat pretended that she wasn’t. “Maybe I could pick Trisha up on Saturday,” Pat said. “It would mean one less car on the road, and we have gotten such a good grade from the EPA on our air quality lately. I’d hate to jeopardize that.”

  “Even though it means putting up with me?” Trisha mocked.

  “That sounds like a good idea to me,” Connie said. “She’d love to go with you.”

  “Mom,” Trisha protested. “I can answer for myself.”

  “Of course you can, dear,” Connie said smoothly, as if she were settling down a cranky child. She glanced over at Pat. “I presume you two can work out the details?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Good, good.” She turned back to Trisha. “We really should be going, you know. We haven’t got all day to find that dress.”

  “I’ll call you later in the week,” Pat said. “At the club.”

  “Whatever,” Trisha called over her shoulder as she hurried her mother away.

  Pat watched them leave with a half smile on his face. The exchange had been rather fun and Saturday would be, too. Not that it was a real date. They were just going to a common business function, someplace where they could network with the various movers and shakers interested in the welfare of the city.

  Still, he found that he was suddenly looking forward to it. Maybe he and Trisha could ignore that spark, but still have some fun together. Why not? They were adults. They could handle that kind of thing.

  Chapter Six

  Trisha looked out her office window, frowning. Pat, Rulli and Angie were sitting at a card table in the corner of the club’s main activity room, their heads bent over a book. Actually, since the table and chairs were adult-size, Pat was the only one who was sitting. The kids were kneeling on their chairs.

  Pat was not supposed to be tutoring them, but their assigned college student was a no-show, so he was filling in. Since Rulli was a third grader and Angie was in fourth, their lessons weren’t all that difficult, but Pat hadn’t gotten the tutor’s orientation packet. Would he know he was supposed to help the kids rather than do their homework for them?

  She really should go check, instead of sitting in here like a scared rabbit. Just because her mother had pushed them into that date for Saturday was no reason for Trisha to be embarrassed. If she was going to act like some junior high kid on her first date, he was going to think she was. She pushed away from her desk and walked out toward Pat and his charges.

  “Hi, everybody. How are things going?” Trisha asked.

  “Pretty good,” Pat said. “We’re wrestling with Angie’s multiplication tables and Rulli’s addition.”

  “And we’re kicking butt,” Angie said.

  “We’re getting there,” Pat agreed.

  “Yesss.” Rulli threw his pencil down on the table and raised one fist in triumph. “I did it.”

  “Let’s see it, sport,” Pat said, taking Rulli’s paper.

  “His name’s Rulli,” Angie said sharply. “Rulli Ingram. After Grandpa Rulli, our mommy’s second daddy.”

  Pat kept his attention on the paper before him. “Good job, Rulli.” He glanced over at the gaming tables on the far side of the room. “Why don’t you guys take a little break? Then we’ll take a quick look and see what you have coming tomorrow.”

  “You just want to talk to Miss Stewart,” Angie said. “Don’t you?”

  “Come on, Angie,” Rulli said. “Let’s play Ping-Pong.”

  Trisha watched the children rush over to the Ping-Pong table, grabbing at the paddles before anyone else could. She sat down in the chair Angie had vacated, glancing idly at the girl’s homework paper before forcing her eyes to meet Pat’s.

  “I’m sorry to drop in in the middle of things,” she said.

  “No big deal. We were just about done.”

  He flashed her a smile and Trisha was happy to see that she was unmoved by it. Well, relatively unmoved.

  “They just needed a little help with math and reading.”

  “I’ll give the tutor a call,” Trisha said. “If I need to, I’ll assign a
nother one.”

  “That would be a good idea,” he agreed. “I’ve got a couple of trips planned over the next few weeks so I’m going to be a bit undependable.”

  Trisha nodded, though a gentle softness welled up within her. It hadn’t been more than a few days ago when he’d objected to working with the kids, saying he wanted to do fund-raising. Yet here he was, concerned that business pressures would keep him away.

  “How are you and the kids getting along?”

  “Okay, I guess.” That grin lit up his face again. “Rulli’s always been my buddy. And Angie’s getting better. She’s only threatened to punch my lights out once today.”

  “It’s obvious you’ve got a way with the ladies.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I mean, very young ladies,” Trisha said. “Like Angie.”

  “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

  There was a sudden increase in volume in kids’ voices and Trisha glanced over toward the Ping-Pong table. Two other children had gone over and wanted to play, but things quieted down quickly as the kids paired off. Rulli, as always, went with Angie.

  Trisha sighed. “I hope one of these days that Angie gives her brother a chance to do things on his own.”

  “She’s afraid that if she lets go, even a little, she’ll lose him.”

  The smile had vanished from Pat’s face and, for a moment, his eyes were deep wells of pain. She put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Trisha,” Clarissa called.

  Trisha pulled her hand back as if it had been in hot water and turned. Her assistant just stood there grinning at her.

  “You have a phone call.”

  “Thank you.” Trisha turned toward Pat. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Stuart. You’re really doing well with the children.”

  “Thanks.” He slowly stood up. “I’ll go referee the game. Then I’ll have a chat with Angie and Rulli, make sure things are shipshape for school tomorrow.”

  “Thank you again, Mr. Stuart.” Trisha turned to hurry toward her office.

  “Oh, Trisha,” he called out.

  She turned. Clarissa’s totally unprofessional grin was the first thing she saw. “Yes?” she said, forcing herself to look at Pat.

  “I need your address if I’m going to pick you up Saturday night.”

  Trisha totally avoided looking at Clarissa. “It’s 1425 North Riverside,” she said. “Apartment 4. That’s over by the Indiana University of South Bend campus.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know where it’s at. Six-thirty okay?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  She turned on her heel and rushed toward her office. After all, it was rude to keep people waiting on the phone. Trisha strode up to her desk and snatched the phone up, at the same time turning to face out toward the activity area. Clarissa was standing in the doorway.

  “It’s just business,” Trisha said.

  That just seemed to feed her assistant’s grin. “Honey,” Clarissa said, “it’s always business when you’re dealing with a man. Just so happens that sometimes it’s monkey business.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Trisha snapped. “We’re just going to the United Way dinner.”

  “Oh, ain’t that nice.”

  Trisha didn’t like her assistant’s attitude at all. And although she knew that she shouldn’t keep the party on the phone waiting, she also didn’t like misconceptions to get out of hand.

  “We’re just sharing a ride.”

  “That’s good,” Clarissa said. “You save a lot on gas and parking that way. Especially in a big city like South Bend.”

  “It was my mother’s idea.”

  “She’s a nice lady,” Clarissa said. “But she’s gonna be real upset if you don’t talk to her.”

  Trisha looked down at the phone in her hand as if it were a piece of equipment from an alien spaceship.

  “Tell her hi for me,” Clarissa said, stepping out of the doorway.

  “Yes, Mother?” Trisha sighed into the phone.

  * * *

  Trisha was sitting in Pat’s car at the traffic light just south of the Century Center. He’d picked her up at 6:30 sharp, just as he’d said, but after complimenting her on her dress, that had been it. Except for a few remarks about the weather, they’d ridden in silence pretty much the entire way downtown.

  He didn’t seem annoyed at having been maneuvered into driving her, but neither did he seem too interested in her company. Which was probably just as well. The evening was for politicking, not spending time with Pat. Maybe he was just better than her at keeping his feelings under control.

  The light turned green and Pat moved into a line waiting to get into the parking lot. Most of the other cars, after a moment or two in line, were making their way to the parking garage across the street.

  “The lot looks full,” Trisha said.

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Okay, Trisha thought. If it wasn’t full, it was almost so. And she was sure that meant they would be parking over near the post office. But that wasn’t a problem. Her heels were fairly comfortable. And it was Pat’s car, not hers, so he could put it wherever he wanted.

  Although, she sniffed appreciatively at the new car smell, she wouldn’t mind owning this car. It was a beautiful black sports car.

  “Do you get a new car every year?” she asked.

  “No.” He moved ahead several feet. “Every two years. The Committee for Industrial Development works out a deal with the Oberlin dealership. It’s one of the perks that goes with my job.”

  Trisha wondered if Pat could get a deal on a new van for the club. Or even a new “used” van. And if he wasn’t able to, Ben Mackley certainly could. It was something she needed to start working on.

  While she’d been lost in her thoughts, the line had moved; they were in the lot now. Pat waved to the attendant at the entrance as they went by.

  Another attendant was directing the cars up ahead, sending all the cars to the right except for Pat, whom he sent to the left. That brought them to a parking space close to the south entrance of the Century Center.

  “Boy,” Trisha said. “If I were driving, I’d have to park at the Wayne Street garage and walk four blocks.”

  “You want me to drive over there and drop you off?”

  Trisha gave him the look, the kind she saved for smart-alecky six-year-olds. Unfortunately, he was concentrating on jockeying his car into the parking space.

  “I just thought you were concerned about missing out on your exercise,” he said, once he had stopped the car.

  She kept the look in place.

  “Wow.” He shook his head as he put his car in Park and turned off the ignition. “Tough room.”

  “You better believe it,” she said.

  Pat put the key in his coat pocket and exited the car, quickly coming around to open her door for her. He held his hand out to help her from the car.

  Unfortunately the dress her mother had helped her choose did not have a skirt that was wide and loose, and she really did need some assistance out of the bucket seat. It was something she hadn’t thought of when her mother had urged her to be a bit daring and get the red silk sheath.

  “You going to be mean to me all night?” he asked.

  “Only if you need it,” she said, trying for a graceful exit. She thought she made it with only a slight flashing of thigh.

  If he saw, he was gentleman enough to pretend not to notice and just shook his head as he took her arm. “And here I told your mother that you were nice.”

  “She wouldn’t have believed you if you’d said I wasn’t. She loves me.”

  The light touch of his hand on Trisha’s sent a slow, delicious shiver through her. She’d been dating since high school and had been on her share of first dates, yet she’d never had this strong a reaction to a man’s touch. Her heart was climbing on high, wanting to laugh and sing and dance in his arms.

  Once they got off the relatively uneven surface of the parking lot and onto the s
idewalk, she made a pretense of fixing her earring so she could let go of his arm. Ignore him, she told herself sternly. They both knew there were sparks that flew in the air around them, but they were mature enough not to feel something had to be done about it.

  They walked into the convention center and down the bricked hallway. Artwork by local artists decorated the walls. It was a good, safe topic for conversation, yet Trisha couldn’t think of a thing to say. She was more conscious of how good Pat looked in his dark suit—tall, broad shouldered and strong. He could be here on these walls, her heart pointed out. A local work of art, as it were. Although she preferred art in a more natural state. The suit would have to go as well as the shirt.

  What in the world was she thinking of? she scolded herself. She greeted the open convention area with relief. “Good crowd,” she said brightly.

  “And all came to see you in that dress, no doubt.”

  The look in his eye matched the hint of fire in his voice. They both were pitiful though when compared to the flame in her cheeks at his remark. She glanced around in panic.

  “Oh, look, it’s the mayor.”

  “Hey, hey. Who do we have here?” The mayor was bearing down on them. “Pat. Trisha. It’s good to see you folks.”

  “Hi, Mark,” Pat murmured.

  “Hello, Mr. Mayor,” she said. “So good to see you.”

  “Are you two together?” the mayor asked.

  “Pat gave me a ride,” she replied.

  “Pat’s a great guy,” the mayor said with a sly wink. “But be sure to count your fingers when he drops you off at home tonight.” He gave Pat a sharp slap on the back. “Nice to see you folks. Maybe we can get together later.”

  He slowly made his way back through the crowd, dispensing a hearty laugh here, a backslap there, with earnest handshakes all around. The mayor was the consummate politician, but at least he had relieved the tension she’d felt at the moment.

  “There’s Ben,” Pat said.

  He took her arm and led her across the room. She wished her dress had long sleeves—long, thick, woolly sleeves. She didn’t need to have him touch her again, didn’t need to feel the warmth of his hand on her arm and wonder what that hand would feel like in other places.