by Amanda Ashby
Chapter Four
Kate took a deep breath as she pushed through the throng of women who were still buzzing around Matt’s door. No wonder he’d run. Fortunately, she’d come prepared with her MP3 player, and her favorite band was now pounding away in her ears. Some of the women were waving pictures of Matt in the air with the radio station logo underneath it and suddenly Kate realized just how stuck he was in her gallery. There was no chance that they wouldn’t recognize him.
She considered explaining to them that the competition had been called off, but after one of them grabbed her arm and demanded to know what she was doing, Kate decided that speed and silence were the best policies. As she tackled her way past them, she thrashed away to the music, pleased that it helped keep up her adrenaline. She finally made it to the door and groped around in her back pocket for the key.
It didn’t take her long to put it in the lock, but as she did so, she started to feel the crowds pressing in on her like she was in the front row of a Metallica concert. She anxiously jiggled it around just as someone started to jab into her back. But before they could unsheathe their nails, Kate felt the lock click and she shoved open the door, quickly stumbling into the safety of Matt’s office.
“Whoa,” she panted before slamming it shut and leaning heavily against it. Those women out there were crazy. Had they really been stood up on so many dates that they weren’t going to take no for an answer anymore? Or was it true when they said there were no good single men around? Kate wasn’t sure, but she was grateful she didn’t share their need to line up on a bachelor’s doorstep for three-quarters of the day.
It was definitely one of the more positive advantages of not wanting to be in a relationship.
She stayed leaning against the back of the door for a few more seconds before she started to take a curious look around. The office was minimal to the point of empty and at first she thought it was because he hadn’t finished unpacking. But as she inspected it, she realized that, no, he really was just very organized. Not that she was disorganized. It was just that she liked to have a lot of things around her. Often in no particular order.
Jenny had suggested a therapist would conclude Kate’s love of collecting clutter was to compensate for her lack of traditional family life. But Kate knew it was more than that. Her things and her cat were her family. They’d been there when no one else had been.
“Besides,” she always reminded Jenny, “it may look chaotic, but at least I know where everything is.”
“Right,” Jenny would snort. “That’s what my husband always says just before he asks me where his socks are.”
Something she could never imagine Matt asking. In fact, as she looked around in wonder at the neat little piles of pencils, pens and folders she had the funniest feeling that if she picked anything up, there would be a nice little line ruled underneath each pile. X marks the spot. Still, judging by the numerous gold plaques hanging from his wall, he must be good at what he did.
She was just about to shake the paper clips out of color coordination when the phone rang. She automatically went to answer it before recalling that it wasn’t her phone, and so she waited until the ringing stopped before fumbling around in her back pocket, this time for his neatly written list.
She frowned as she studied his small, well-rounded handwriting. “Jacob file, is on the desk under the window, next to the answering machine, but closer to the computer than the house plant,” she read aloud as she followed the trail, which, amazingly enough, lead her straight to the Jacob file. She then packed it up along with his laptop before heading up the stairs.
Unlike her own apartment, which had been badly converted by Bob the bicycle store owner, Matt’s living area was an oasis of smooth white walls and a redone ceiling with slick designer lights hanging down to add style and ambience for anyone sitting on one of the two long leather sofas. The rest of the room was decorated in upmarket minimalist style that would probably make Jenny smile with pleasure. It was also completely different from Kate’s eclectic collection of junk shop treasures, bright cushions and the few pieces of antique furniture Harry had insisted she take.
Kate cruised through to his bedroom, under instruction from the note to collect one pairs of jeans and a navy shirt, and as she walked into the room, she nodded her head in approval.
The rest of his apartment might look like a display unit for a classy home magazine, but his bedroom felt more personal with loads of family photographs in a mish-mash of frames covering a retro-style dresser as well as an assortment of river stones sitting in a glass bowl. The walls were a soft gray and the bed was topped with a crisp white comforter and four large pillows. For a moment she thought about how much fun Socrates would have playing hide-the-toy-mouse.
Then she wondered how much fun she could have in the bed, but she quickly squashed the idea. She’d been thinking far too much about this man during the last six hours and was relieved that it would soon be over, because the way her body had been acting today, she certainly didn’t trust herself anywhere near him.
She detoured around the bed and picked up a silver framed photo. It was of Matt with a pair of children, which she presumed must be Emma’s.
Kate looked at the way the two pixies were hanging off his shoulders like he was a monkey bar. The next photo was of Matt surrounded by hordes of people; all sharing the same dimples and Russian caramel hair. Boy, there sure were a lot of them. And they were all laughing and smiling as if they actually liked one another.
Suddenly Kate turned away. Happy families weren’t something she was very familiar with. Though, there’d been a small window when it felt like she’d had a family. When she and Julia had actually been close. Had actually resembled other families. But then Andy had died, Julia had gotten sick and there went any hope of the stable life that Kate had so often longed for.
Then she frowned. Why was she even thinking about this stuff? It had all happened a long time ago. She quickly thrust the picture back down onto the dresser and grabbed the rest of the things on Matt’s list before heading back to her studio. Whenever she felt like this, the best thing to do was get back to her studio and paint until the pain went away.
***
“You won’t believe the day that I’ve had,” Matt’s sister said as he put his cell phone on speaker so that he could continue chopping the onions while he waited for the water to boil.
“Oh, I don’t know. My definition of strange days has undergone a slight change lately,” Matt replied as he took a sip of wine and carefully transferred the onions to the heavy fry pan that he’d found in Kate’s kitchen. Considering the state of her downstairs studio, he’d half been expecting to find a disastrous kitchen, but the entire upstairs apartment had a sparse but quirky feel to it, with bold paintings on the wall, a comfortable couch covered in scatter pillows and a well-loved book collection. Food-wise there wasn’t much apart from a collection of sushi menus and some pickled ginger, but on closer inspection, he just about found enough to make a meal. Then he realized that his sister hadn’t laughed and he snatched his cell phone back up and frowned. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. The twins have the chicken pox.”
For a moment Matt was stunned into silence. “But that’s impossible,” he finally managed to say. “I was with them last night and they were fine.”
“What can I say? They’re not fine now. They’re irritable and itchy and scratchy and they’re driving me crazy,” Emma wailed, and Matt winced with sympathy. The twins, at four years of age, were full of mischief and it took both Emma and her husband, Sam, all their energy to contain them. Except that Sam was away on a business trip, which was why he’d been helping her last night and had ended up crashing over there.
“How are you coping?”
“I’m getting through it. Mom said she can help tonight and Jo’s going to come and stay tomorrow. That’s why I’m calling you.”
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“You want me to help?” Matt pushed his lips together. Normally he was the first in line to play uncle with the frisky twins, but right now it was the farthest thing from his mind. He tried to tell himself that it was because he didn’t want to risk leaving the gallery in case his newly developed fan club spotted him, but he suspected it was more likely due to the promise of spending some more time with Kate.
“No, the opposite. I’m calling to let you know that you might’ve caught them,” Emma informed him, her voice apologetic. “I checked with Mom this morning and you never had chicken pox as a kid, which means you’re going to need to get vaccinated tomorrow.”
“Oh, is that all?” Matt let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and stirred the onions before adding in the garlic.
“Um, I just told you that you might be getting an itchy and embarrassing childhood disease. You don’t seem bothered. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he quickly replied. “Well, not nothing. Let’s just say that you’re not the only one who’s had a strange day.”
“Do tell,” Emma, who was the matriarch of gossip, immediately demanded. But before Matt could say anything there was a beeping noise and his sister let out a relieved sigh. “That’s Sam. I need to give him an update on what’s happening, but we’ll resume this conversation tomorrow. And don’t forget about the vaccination.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Give those monkeys my love.”
“Will do,” Emma promised and finished the call while Matt turned his attention back to the onions, which had now gone the perfect color. He smiled as he added in the mushrooms that he’d found in the fridge. Cooking was like life; it just required a bit of planning and organization. His nose twitched in appreciation. Of course, a meal was always enhanced by the company, and his smile increased as he put the pasta on before he searched for some cutlery to set the table.
Finally it was ready, and even Socrates, who’d been eyeing him from a nearby chair, sniffed the air with interest. Matt gave the ginger cat a quick pat on the head as he made his way back downstairs to let Kate know.
He hadn’t actually seen her since she’d led him upstairs two hours earlier and told him to make himself at home, but it didn’t take him long to find her. She was hunched over her sketch pad, oblivious to his presence. He watched in appreciation as she worked, taking in the way her bottom lip was tight with concentration, and suddenly he understood why the studio was such a mess. She obviously got so wrapped up in her work that she didn’t notice anything around her.
It was the exact opposite of how he worked, and he continued to stare at her in fascination. Her wild curls were swept over one shoulder, leaving the other one exposed, and the rise and fall of her shoulder and arm as her hand flew across the page was something of an erotic experience.
Kate Mitchell, he decided, had great arms: long and slender but with the hint of muscle underneath. It was a tantalizing sight and his mind filled up with images of her lying back on a chaise lounge, her voluptuous body only barely concealed by a flimsy sheet, making her look like something out of a modern day Goya.
“Problem?” She glanced up from her work and looked at him strangely.
“Oh.” The heat rose to his cheeks as he realized he’d been caught thinking about her. Fantasizing would be a better word. His embarrassment increased. “Er, no problem. I just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready. Also, I need to ask if you’ve had chicken pox before.”
“I think I had them when I was eight.” Kate’s brown eyes clouded in confusion and Matt watched in fascination as she pressed her mouth together so that it formed a perfect rosebud. “Why? Is that what we’re having for dinner?”
“What?” He blinked before realizing that for the second time in just minutes he’d been sidetracked. For someone who prided themselves on their organizational skills, he was doing a lousy job. He coughed and fiddled with his shirt collar. “I mean, no, we’re not having chicken pox for dinner. I just spoke to Emma and the twins have just come down with them. I haven’t had them before so there’s a slim chance that I might get them and I would’ve hated to pass them on to you. Not exactly a nice way to thank you.”
“Oh, right, well you can set your mind at ease.”
“Good.” Matt turned before she could see the color in his face, while trying to remember the last time he’d acted like a teenager around a gorgeous girl. He suspected that it hadn’t been since he was a teenager. “So, I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” Kate said as she shut her sketchbook and followed him upstairs. Her eyes widened when she saw the steaming bowls of pasta covered in the delicate sauce, lightly sprinkled with the hard Parmesan that he’d found at the back of the fridge. “Where did all this come from? I swear this morning there was only bread and milk in there.”
“You’d be amazed what I can do when I put my mind to it.” He held out the chair so she could sit down. “Though it was a close call between this and soy-sauce soup. You have a lot of sushi condiments in your fridge.”
“I like it,” she defended. “It covers all the food groups plus they have fun with it. The other night I got panda-shaped sushi.”
“Hey, I’m a big fan of fun food,” Matt quickly assured her before holding up a glass. “Now, would you like a glass of wine? I found a bottle in the cupboard. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll replace it tomorrow.”
For a moment Kate’s face was the picture of indecision, as if she was going through some internal battle. Then she sucked in a lungful of air and held out her glass.
“Okay, I’ll have a glass of wine. It’s been that kind of day.”
“It surely has,” Matt agreed, feeling ridiculously pleased that she’d said yes. Despite finding himself locked out of his home thanks to a horde of baby-seeking women and discovering that he might have chicken pox, he was starting to think that it was all a blessing in disguise.
Chapter Five
Kate fiddled with the stem of her wineglass as she watched Matt carry away the empty pasta plates while Socrates did his best to block the path. The food had been amazing, Matt had been the perfect dinner companion and the wine had managed to loosen the stiffness between her shoulder blades that came from too many late nights in her studio. Unfortunately, it had also managed to make her forget that staring at her neighbor’s well-shaped legs as he left the room was not on her to-do list. In fact, it was very much on her to-don’t list. Which was a pity, because they were very nice legs. As was the rest of him.
A traitorous sigh escaped her lips.
She’d thought he’d looked gorgeous in his crisp white shirt and linen trousers, but that was nothing compared to how he looked in the old pair of jeans and plain navy shirt that she’d brought back for him. Why hadn’t she grabbed some old sweats instead? Then again, she had the feeling that no matter what Matt was wearing, her pulse would still flutter in his presence.
It hadn’t helped that he was so easy to talk to and they’d spent the entire meal trading disaster stories of contractors before moving on to their shared secret fear of horror movies and ending up discussing one of Seattle’s best known bookstores. All leaving Kate with a pleasant buzzing sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“I hope you have room for dessert.” Matt reappeared several minutes later with two small espresso cups. “Microwave brownies. I normally only make these with the twins but I couldn’t find any baking tins so I figured they’d do for us. Luckily I found some flour and cocoa in the back of the cupboard.”
And he made brownies?
“Thank you.” Kate blinked as he sat down opposite her. She broke the top of the brownie with her spoon and let out a soft sigh as the cocoa and sugar hit her tongue. She wasn’t much of a cook, and Harry only tended to use the kitchen to store his takeout menus, so this was new territory for her. And it involved chocolate. She took another bite and ignored the way Socrates was nudgi
ng her ankle for a taste. Even if cats could eat brownies, there was no way she wanted to share.
“You’re welcome. Once the hordes have left my front door I’ll make you the proper version.”
“It gets better than this?” Kate demanded as she pushed her empty cup away. She might never be able to eat a store-bought brownie again.
“Oh yeah.” He nodded as he unleashed one of his dimples on her. He was slightly flushed, probably from the heat of the kitchen, and it only seemed to emphasize the planes and angles of his face. He looked nice slightly sweaty, Kate decided as an image of him wearing not too many clothes appeared unbidden in her mind and she marveled at how his proportions were almost as magnificent as that of the statue of David.
“S-so where did you learn to cook?” she stammered while desperately trying to push her unruly thoughts to the back of her mind.
“My mom taught me,” he said before twitching his lips in amusement as if he knew she was purposely changing the subject. Her cheeks heated. “My father can’t even boil water and she refused to let another male into the world who couldn’t feed themselves.”
“Wow, the only thing my mom tried to teach me was how to put on lipstick. Sadly, it was never one of my strengths,” Kate admitted in a light voice, while trying to imagine her mother fussing over a stove. Even with her flexible imagination, it wasn’t something she could picture. Nor did she want to be thinking about Julia right now.
“If it’s any consolation, I could never master lipstick either.” Matt grinned as he stood up and began to clear away the last of the dishes. She’d tried to help earlier but he’d refused outright, saying that he’d been enough of an inconvenience without burdening her with dishes as well. She couldn’t argue with that and she watched as he made his way from the open-plan dining room across to the sink.
The ancient dishwasher that had once been in the kitchen had long ago died and replacing it wasn’t high up on her list, which meant it all needed to be done by hand.
