by Delia Latham
Destiny laughed softly. “That’s all I can call it for now. I have prayed over your application and his several times. I’ve run you both through all the compatibility software. But here’s the clincher—and please don’t think I’m crazy, OK?” She paused, and when Kylie didn’t respond, she rushed on. “I dreamed about you two.” A whoosh of expelled air in her ear told Kylie the other woman had thought more than twice about admitting that last bit of information. “There. I’ve said it.”
Kylie released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She absently raked her new acrylic nails through her hair. A small bark of laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it. “You dreamed about us. What exactly did you dream?”
“Uh-uh.” For once, Destiny’s voice lacked some of its trademark buoyant confidence. “But it was a big, beautiful dream. Very real.”
Kylie chuckled. Then she laughed aloud, and found herself unable to stop. It became a near hysterical cackle, and tears ran in streams down her face, destroying what little makeup she’d bothered to apply.
To Destiny’s credit, she said nothing until the storm passed. Kylie jerked a tissue from a box on her desk and patted her face, then turned her head away from the phone and honked into the tissue.
“You OK?” Destiny finally spoke.
“I’m f-fine.” One last little burst of merriment. It didn’t seem to bother her boss’s wife.
“Good. Look, I know this sounds insane, and I know you and Rick haven’t even seen each other on video. But I’d really rather you didn’t—and don’t ask me why, ‘cause I don’t know.” She laughed, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I’ve never done this to a client before, but I’m asking your permission to do it this time. May I set you two up for dinner? Or do you feel that you absolutely must do the video intro thing first? Because if you insist, that’s what we’ll do, of course.”
****
Back at the Creekside again. Twice in one week—he’d probably set a record for himself. Under normal circumstances, he might have lived in Castle Creek for years before ever seeing the inside of this place. Far too ritzy for his taste.
Rick parked his pickup at the farthest end of the lot where it wouldn’t look so bad against all the new vehicles. Maybe he should have brought the Jag he’d purchased for lengthy trips, but it seemed so pretentious. Old Betsy was always his transportation of choice.
“Man, I hate ties!” He peered into the rearview mirror and tugged at the offending piece of silk around his neck. “If this gal sticks around long enough to do this again, I sure hope she’s into Hamburger Hovel.”
He couldn’t believe he’d allowed Destiny to rope him into this, without even seeing his date on video. What was her name…Kylie? He grimaced, recalling the distraught female who’d ramrodded his truck in the street last week. She’d been a Kaylee, or Kylie, or Kitty, hadn’t she? Something with a K. Cute gal, but a lousy driver.
Water under the bridge. He had no idea what this “K” girl even looked like. What if he didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like him? That was a possibility, too.
He grinned. “A distinct possibility, Ricky D. Let’s not forget this thing goes both ways.”
Somehow the thought calmed him. Chances were, Kylie—if that really was her name—was every bit as nervous as was he. According to Destiny, the woman didn’t have a clue to his identity either. She hadn’t seen his video introduction and knew only his first name.
One last glance in the mirror. One last pass of his hand over hair that wouldn’t stay in place for long anyway. Time to face the music. No more stalling.
He grabbed the single long-stemmed rose off the seat beside him, shoved the door open and stepped outside. On the sidewalk, he reached out to pat Old Betsy’s shiny nose. “Wait right here, old girl,” he whispered. “I have a feeling I won’t be long.”
Inside, a smiling hostess not much more than half his age greeted him, menu in hand. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”
He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, uh…gazebo?” That’s what Destiny told him to say.
The girl’s face lit up. “Oh! You’re one of Destiny’s people.” She motioned for him to follow and headed toward a side door. “Come with me. Your date is waiting.”
Rick followed her outside, wishing he’d made the arrangements himself. Who else knew he was here as a Solomon’s Gate Seeker? To be fair, he was certain Destiny hadn’t exactly shared that information. The fact that Castle Creek’s only official matchmaker made the reservations told its own tale.
“Here you go. She’s waiting inside.” The hostess smiled again and left him standing with his mouth hanging open.
He’d never seen anything like it. He’d thought “gazebo” probably referred to a section of tables, but it was an actual little trellis-laden patio room like some folks set up in their yards. In a garden-like setting outside the restaurant, the structure was draped in yard after yard of sheer white fabric—enough to provide privacy without creating a closed-in atmosphere. Tiny lights glowed within the folds of material. In fact, the entire garden twinkled, thanks to miniature bulbs strung through the plentiful shrubs and flowers. The place looked like a fairy land, and soft strains of music played from speakers tucked away somewhere out of sight.
Behind the fabric, he saw the outline of a table for two, and a woman’s silhouette. Kylie. He pulled in a deep, bracing breath and blew it back out. Show time.
****
The pounding of her heart thundered in her ears. Surely this guy could hear it, even standing out there in the dark where the hostess left him. Rick. His name is Rick. Why didn’t he come in? What would she do if he just turned and left her sitting here alone? Oh, why had she agreed to do this?
“Kylie?” His voice preceded him. A pleasant voice, deep and even a little familiar, but that was ridiculous. She didn’t know any Ricks. Kylie lifted her head and smiled, hoping she didn’t look as scared as she felt.
“Come into my parlor.” Ugh! You just introduced yourself as a spider.
A rich rumble of laughter, and then the fabric over the entrance was swept aside. Kylie had chosen the seat facing that opening. She wanted the advantage of seeing her date at the same moment he saw her.
“I’m almost afraid to enter, after that greeting.” The laughter in his voice carried over onto his face—and then he saw her. The pleasant expression disappeared and his eyes narrowed, even as Kylie’s own smile of welcome froze on her face.
“You?” Total disbelief. Now she knew why his voice sounded familiar.
“Oh, no!” Kylie closed her eyes and opened them again, but it was still him—none other than the hunky cowboy with the great pockets…the one she’d rammed into at a signal light not a week earlier. She groaned. So much for Destiny’s big, beautiful dream. This is a nightmare!
Kylie's Kiss
5
In his former line of work, Rick had seen plenty of pale faces, but he’d never watched another person’s visage go from peachy pink to stark white right before his eyes.
“Whoa! Are you OK?” One long step took him to her side. He knelt and grabbed a water goblet off the table. “Here, sip this.” The last thing I need is a swooning female on my hands.
She obeyed, taking the glass in one trembling hand. Gradually, a little color reappeared in her cheeks and Rick felt safe in moving around to the other chair.
“I’m s-so sorry.” He strained to hear her. “I didn’t mean to go all wimpy on you.” She managed a shaky smile, and he found himself returning it. “It’s just that…you’re the last person I expected to see.”
“Ditto.” He eyed her for a moment. “You sure you’re OK?”
“I’m fine, just so embarrassed.” A pair of golden brown eyes met his, though he could see the effort it cost her. “If you want to call this off, believe me, I understand.”
Rick squirmed in his seat. Maybe he should call it off, but he’d been taught better manners. None of this was Kylie’s fault. He could blame Destiny Gallagh
er for royally botching this one.
“Naw, no need for that.” He grinned, determined to make the best of an awkward situation. “I always date women who try to run me over. I mean, hey, if they want me that badly...”
Kylie gasped, then laughed. “I really am sorry about this. Believe me, I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t. And besides, no real harm done, right? Old Betsy barely had a scratch on her, and neither of us was hurt. So let’s just get on with our evening, shall we? Oh—” He spotted the rose he’d dropped as he rushed to her side. Scooping the flower off the floor, he held it out across the table. “I brought you this, but it looked a lot better before I threw it on the floor and used it for a knee pad.”
“Why, thank you! Crushed roses smell so much sweeter than whole ones.” To her credit, the girl had a great sense of humor. She buried her nose—a sweet little turned-up thing, Rick noticed—deep in the petals for a moment before tucking the rose into an empty vase on the table. Apparently, the Creekside provided for every possible scenario.
“I don’t see a menu.” He glanced around the small space.
“I think Destiny ordered for us. The hostess said something about it earlier.”
“Well, let’s hope she does a better job of that than she did of—” Rick caught himself. Not a very nice thing to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. But it’s OK. I understand.”
Rick sighed. “Look, this is ridiculous. We’re here, and there’s no reason we shouldn’t have a nice time. It’s not as though we’re enemies or anything. Accidents happen, and the truth is, I know it wasn’t really your intention to park your car in my pickup bed.” Smiling, he picked up her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What do you say we forget about that unfortunate little fender bender and just pretend this is the first time we met? Can we do that?”
“Really?” A hopeful smile peeked out at him, and she bit down on her lip for a moment before allowing it to surface. “I can if you can!”
Until that moment, he hadn’t really seen her. A wide smile lit her entire face, and twin spots of color on each cheek enhanced the caramel depths of her eyes. Shiny golden-brown hair was piled on top of her head in some kind of messy arrangement that managed to look nice, with soft tendrils spilling down around her face.
In that instant, Rick realized he’d been handed a date with an attractive woman. That made two pluses already, when he added in that fun sense of humor. He settled into his seat and grinned. She might not be the best driver in Castle Creek, but he hadn’t listed that as a requirement on his Solomon’s Gate application.
Definitely time to get to know her better.
“So, Kylie. What do you like to do in the evening when you’re home alone with nothing better to do?”
“Are you interrogating me?” When she laughed, an image of Peter Pan’s little winged sidekick filled his mind.
He mock frowned. “Answer the question, please.”
Before she could, a waiter arrived with two plates piled high with food. Rick noticed the relief on his companion’s face at the interruption and knew she was hoping he’d forget his so-called interrogation. He didn’t let her hope very long. As soon as the server disappeared into the darkness outside the gazebo, he picked up his fork and grinned across the table.
“Looks great, huh? Destiny did good. Now, back to that question.”
She blushed, and Rick took a moment to appreciate how lovely she looked with high color on her face. It had been a while since he’d seen a young lady’s cheeks turn pink like that.
“I’m embarrassed.” He barely heard her tiny response. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
He swallowed a chunk of filet mignon and tried out the old eyebrow dance—he used to be pretty good at it. “Maybe, maybe not. That’s what tonight is all about, right? Our chance to find out whether or not we want to spend any more time together.”
Kylie groaned. She picked up her napkin and wiped delicately at her lips before answering. “OK, you asked for it. Scary movies. I love them.”
No way. He gave her a thumbs-up and a big grin. “I do, too! The spookier the better.”
“Really? I like to scare myself silly while I know I’m safe and sound within my own four walls. But not blood and gore,” she stated, holding up one finger, which Rick noticed was tastefully manicured. “Just lots and lots of tension and edge-of-the-seat suspense.”
“Yep.” He downed a swallow of raspberry iced tea. “And a big bowl of popcorn makes it even better.”
Her eyes lit up. “With butter?”
“Dripping with butter.”
She giggled. “I’ll find one of my favorites movies and invite you over. Popcorn’s on me.”
“Deal. Your turn.”
“My turn?”
Now she sounded all shaky again. Rick decided this gal had some serious confidence issues, and wondered why. She was pretty and fun and—wait. He didn’t actually know a whole lot just yet.
“Yeah, your turn to ask a question.”
“Oh, so this is not a one-sided thing? I feel much better.” She wrinkled that adorable little nose at him and twisted her oh-so-generous lips to one side while she thought. “Oceans or mountains?”
“Mountains, no contest. You?”
“Mountains, without a doubt. Not that I don’t like the ocean, but—well, I guess having lived all my life here in Castle Creek, I’ve learned to appreciate the special beauty of hilly territory.”
“Ditto. Hmmm.” Rick took time to enjoy a few bites while he mulled over what else to ask her. As far as he was concerned, he already knew he wanted to see Kylie again.
“What’s your last name?” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name she’d scrawled on that little-girl stationery he’d passed on to his insurance agent.
She looked confused for a moment, then laughed out loud—a pleasant, bell-like tone that Rick found fascinating. It fit with their fairyland dining spot, and also explained his inclination to call her by some ridiculous fairy-sounding moniker, like Sparkle or Twinklebell.
“It’s Matthews. ‘Ms. Matthews,’ as you so charmingly called me when I ran you over. It was on the insurance information I gave you.”
“I never even looked at it again,” he admitted. “My assistant took care of everything.”
That delightful laughter washed over him like warm raindrops. Her bright eyes rivaled the myriad of twinkle lights surrounding them. “That’s so funny! I didn’t see your information either—my dad handled it. What’s your last name? Unless you’d prefer to be just Rick for a while?”
“I’m Rick Dale.” He offered her a hand to shake across the table. “And I’m very pleased to meet you, Ms. Kylie Matthews.”
“Likewise.” She ducked her head in a show of formality, and then spoiled it by giggling. “I’d curtsy if I knew how.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Spare me, please! OK, let’s see. Do you like animals?”
“I guess I do. Sure, I do. I don’t happen to have one at the moment, which I guess says something, but probably only because I live with my parents and Mom doesn’t like animals. She’s allergic to most of them.”
“So you still live at home?”
Kylie nodded. “Yes, for a few more days. I actually just got an apartment, and my friend and I are painting it before I move in. Was that a question?”
“Yep, and I’m glad to hear we won’t have to watch that scary movie with your parents peering over our shoulders.” He felt comfortable teasing her, and that was a good thing. “It’s your turn.”
“Hmmm…let me think.”
****
In spite of getting off to a near-perilous start, the evening went far better than she had dared to hope. Kylie pulled the clip out of her hair, allowing it to fall down around her shoulders. Dayna had worked wonders with the unruly stuff. She had to admit her shiny tresses looked anything but mousey now. She pulled a brush through the soft strands and stared back a
t the starry-eyed gal in her mirror.
“I think Mr. Rick Dale may have actually liked you, Ky,” she whispered.
She knew she liked him. He’d been able to coax her past all the nerves and shyness and bring out her best side. By the time their dessert appeared—espresso and rich, creamy raspberry cheesecake whose calorie content she absolutely refused to think about—the two of them were chatting as though they’d known each other forever.
They’d agreed to share one embarrassing character flaw, and Kylie found herself confessing her tendency to stomp her foot in moments of frustration.
“That’s it? That’s the worst thing you can think of about yourself?”
“Probably not, but it’s the worst thing you’re going to hear tonight.”
“Aha! So you have some deep, dark secrets.” He chuckled. “I hope so, because if stomping your foot is the worst thing about you, you’re probably too good for me.”
Kylie laughed. “You think so? Well, guess how I rear-ended your precious truck the other day?”
Puzzlement clouded his features for a few seconds, then his eyes widened in sudden understanding. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“You stomped your foot? On the accelerator?”
She nodded, shocked at how little embarrassment she felt. “I did. That’s what happened. So shoot me.”
He threw back his head and laughed—a deep, hearty, from-the-gut burst of humor that made Kylie want to do something…anything…to hear it again.
“So what about you?” She filled her water glass and his from a pitcher the waiter had left on his last trip out to check on them. “What’s your character flaw?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Of course you do. You just told me I was probably too good for you. There has to be something less than perfect you can share.”
Rick shrugged. “Nope.”
