Kit And Kisses

by Smith, Karen Rose

  Kit And Kisses

  Karen Rose Smith

  Copyright 1997 Karen Rose Smith

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 0821757733

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  BUSINESS OR PLEASURE?

  Public relations whiz, Kit Saunders, was looking forward to a challenge—if not exactly the kind of challenge posed by Greyson Corey, the small-town Pennsylvania entrepreneur who hired her to spruce up his image. One look at the drop-dead gorgeous client and Kit concluded that his image was already perfect.

  Never before had Greyson taken such a personal interest in public relations as he did when he met Kit. Unfortunately, he was a man who honored his own vow: never mix business with pleasure. Until Kit made it clear that taking care of business was a pleasure, and love could be the most satisfying enterprise of their careers.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kit Saunders was a woman on a mission.

  The object of her reconnaissance crouched in front of the shelves in the hardware store's painting supplies section, clipboard in hand. After studying him for a few moments, Kit decided he matched the description her brother-in-law had given her.

  Even in his present position, she could tell Greyson Corey, owner of Corey's Hardware, was tall, and at least six-two. Under the fluorescent lights, strands of silver shone in his thick black hair. The green T-shirt emblazoned with the store's logo emphasized his broad shoulders, his muscular biceps. His jeans stretched tight over his thighs and buttocks. Nice, she drawled to herself before she remembered she wasn't interested in men any more.

  Even so, she kept looking. In profile, the ruggedness of his jaw counteracted the classic line of his nose. In essence, he was one great-looking man. But that didn't matter. She'd fallen for good looks once before. It wouldn't happen again. This man was a potential client and she didn't have time to waste a July afternoon admiring the view.

  Even though it was a very nice view. She crossed to him, her cotton flared skirt brushing his clipboard.

  He cocked his head and studied her, from her chin-length, blond hair, down her western-style, fringed turquoise blouse and matching skirt, to her tooled leather sandals. "Can I help you?"

  His slow, steady perusal made her feel warm and tingly in the air conditioned store. Despite that, she replied with a smile. "No, but I think I can help you."

  His green eyes took another sweep. This time Kit felt her cheeks get hot as he rose to his feet, towering a good six inches above her. "Let me get this straight. You're in my store, but you think you can help me."

  She extended her hand. "I'm Kit Saunders, public relations consultant. Eric McConnell is my brother-in-law. He said you might be interested in my services and suggested I should stop in some time."

  He took her hand in his and shook it with a relaxed grip, the press of his fingers making a surprisingly hot imprint on hers. "I see. Eric mentioned you, but I don't know if I can afford a public relations consultant. My store's in trouble as is. Red Bucket Corporation is taking advantage of that and pressuring me to sell out."

  His honesty surprised her. The touch of his rougher skin against hers made her thoughts jumble. Mere chemistry had never done that before. Pulling her hand away quickly, she asked, "Is that what you want?"

  When he studied her again, the male interest in his eyes awakened sensations in Kit she thought died three years ago. "Life doesn't always let us have what we want," he said quietly.

  The sadness in his voice touched her. "Eric told me that your dad passed away. I'm sorry."

  A flicker of pain crossed Greyson Corey's face. Too soon, his expression was set again, and Kit realized he was still coming to terms with his grief. "Thank you." He glanced around the store. "He's the reason I don't want to sell. The store's been in the family for three generations. It meant history and good service to Dad. I don't want to give it up without a fight."

  "That's why I'm here," she said softly, suddenly more interested in helping him than in making money from his account for Sunrise Public Relations.

  Eric had told her Grey Corey's father had been sick for a year before he passed away, ten months ago. It was one of the reasons the store was having financial difficulties. Grey had devoted his attention to caring for his father. Kit considered it rare for a man to do that.

  The nerve in Grey's jaw worked. "You're not what I expected."

  She shook her head, wanting to make him smile. "Uh oh. Has Eric been telling stories again? About my three noses?"

  Grey chuckled and seemed to relax. "No. But he did use the term 'expert.' I guess I expected someone in a suit with a briefcase."

  She shrugged. "I've been known to wear suits. What about you?"

  With a straight face, he said, "I've been known to wear them, too, though not often."

  They both laughed and then their eyes met. A silence fell over them that had nothing to do with making conversation or public relations. It was man-woman awareness and the unexpected strength of it made Kit shiver.

  Grey had a difficult time keeping his gaze away from Kit's swingy hairdo, her blue eyes, her beautiful smile. Her perfume, something exotic, teased more than his nose. When she smiled at him, he felt... He might as well be honest. Aroused was the word. Her skirt floated around her, hinting at her curves. The blouse molded softly to her breasts. The outfit wasn't in any way revealing. That was the problem. It let his imagination wander.

  He guessed it was about time. He hadn't held a woman in two long years. Not since...Susan. They'd dated for six months. He'd thought they had a future. Until one night when he'd come home from visiting his dad in the hospital, the night Susan told him she couldn't accept Deedee. She certainly didn't want his sister living with them. She particularly didn't like the idea that if anything happened to his dad, Grey would have full responsibility for Deedee, for both her physical and financial well being.

  That's when Grey had looked into group homes. But he'd realized he could never love a woman who didn't accept and learn to love his sister. That's simply the way it was. So he and Susan had gone their separate ways, even though a month later he'd found a home for Deedee that would give her more independence than he ever could. The arrangement had worked out better than he'd ever hoped.

  The problem was—Susan wasn't the exception, she was the rule. How often while growing up had he defended Deedee, protected her, tried to insulate her against all those who couldn't accept her? He had dated other women who'd looked down on Deedee, who didn't know how to act around her, simply because she was different.

  How would Kit Saunders react?

  Why in blazes was he even asking? She was here on business.

  Business. Yeah, right. That's why every time she spoke he wondered what her lips would feel like under his. Get a grip, Corey. You've been working way too hard. "Would you like to go to my office? I can show you my advertising schedule."

  "Actually, I'd rather look around the store if you don't mind."

  That smile. He wanted to taste her as well as kiss her. "No, I don't mind. I'll be in the office in the back when you're through."

  Kit knew she had to get away from Grey's potent masculinity if she was to make an objective evaluation of his store and the type of campaign he'd need to turn it around. But even as she walked away, she knew she'd feel his presence no matter where in the store she went.

  She made a slo
w tour, trying to forget about Greyson Corey by concentrating on strategies that could bring in business by bringing in more customers. Maple Grove was a mid-size town in south-central Pennsylvania that should generate more than enough business for a store like Corey's Hardware. But nearby Meadeville with its many shopping centers and malls was probably drawing business away. After fifteen minutes of making mental notes, Kit stood in the doorway to Grey Corey's office.

  He looked up from his desk. "What's the verdict?"

  Her fingers went to the necklace she wore, a Native American design with small birds of different colors. "How open are you to change, Mr. Corey?"

  "Grey," he corrected her, then frowned. "I'm about as traditional as Dad was. I want to keep the store service-oriented and customer-minded."

  "If it was customer-minded, you'd have more customers."

  "Now, wait a minute..." he began defensively.

  "From what Eric says, you have more of a problem than just putting this quarter in the black. Is he right?"

  Grey rubbed his hand over his chin and met her gaze directly. "Yes."

  From his expression and tone of voice when he spoke about it, it was obvious how much the store meant to him, how much he wanted to save it. He cared about his father's legacy.

  Stepping into the office, she took a quick look around, then sat on the corner of his desk. "My guess is, along with the state of retail these days, you're losing business to the full service chain stores that have opened in Meadeville in the past few years. I won't know for sure until I make some inquiries and scout around."

  He straightened his shoulders. "And your time will cost."

  His unflinching stare didn't make her squirm. "Yes, it will. But I'm willing to invest my time if I can win an account for my company. I'm willing to work up some ideas and a cost analysis. Does that sound fair?"

  He looked surprised for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "How many times do you do that and not get the account?"

  She smiled. "I'm not going to give away trade secrets. But I can tell you I'm known for winning more accounts than I lose."

  He chuckled. "Eric said you were good. He just didn't say how good."

  Her cheeks got a little hotter. After a pause she said, "There is something you could help me with."

  His brows arched.

  "I'd like to buy a ladder."

  When he stood and came around the front of the desk, he was close enough for her to smell male and hard work. It wasn't unpleasant. On his feet, he seemed to take up the whole office. His shoulders and chest alone could block the doorway. With him standing before her, she felt small, feminine, and very hot. She blew out a breath.

  "What size?" he asked.

  She figured a tall man's forty-four. It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the ladder, not a suit jacket. Hopping off the desk to equalize her position, she looked up at him. "I need to reach the ceiling comfortably. Actually, I could use it even higher than that so I can clean my porch spouting."

  "You do that sort of thing yourself?"

  "Is this chauvinism I hear?"

  He looked chagrined. "Sorry. I told you I came from a traditional background."

  "There's nothing wrong with tradition, Grey," she heard herself say, surprised because she usually had more fun breaking tradition than following it.

  "So you believe in fireworks on the Fourth of July, eating turkey at Thanksgiving, and hanging mistletoe at Christmas?"

  The thought of standing underneath the small white berries with him created a fluttering in her stomach. "I haven't been able to find mistletoe the last few years."

  "That's a shame," he responded, his voice tinged with a husky rasp, that made her wonder if his mind was creating the same picture hers was.

  She could have sworn she swayed toward him slightly; she could have sworn his head lowered a fraction. But then something clattered to the floor in the store, breaking the connection that had suddenly swept her toward thoughts of intimacy. She shook her head. Not a good sign. Since her debacle with Trent Higgins, hadn't she sworn never to trust a man again? And she couldn't think about intimacy with a man without trusting him.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, "So what size do you think I need?"

  He studied her for a moment, then said, "Probably six feet. C'mon. I'll show you."

  He waited for her to precede him out the doorway. Her arm brushed his chest, and she swallowed hard. What about this man made her knees wobble?

  Choosing a ladder didn't take long. Grey carried it outside for her. When she directed him to her car, he shook his head. "You have a problem. Even with the trunk tied down, you'll lose it."

  "I should have brought Eric and Maggie's van," she mumbled. "If they're home, I can—"

  "We deliver. That's part of our customer service."

  She shaded her eyes against the sun. "But I live in Meadeville, not here in Maple Grove."

  He shrugged, the action tightening the shirt across his chest, making her more aware of the few curling black hairs peeking from the crew neck. "Ten, fifteen minutes. It's not a problem. I'll consider it a favor to Eric for sending you over."

  "I don't think you're sure it's a favor. Yet." Neither was she. Yet.

  "I care about keeping the store, Kit."

  She liked the way her name sounded when he said it, and she couldn't keep from reaching out and touching his arm. "I know you do."

  When his gaze met hers, she was aware of the hair on his forearm under her fingertips, the breeze shifting her skirt around her knees, but mostly the heat in his eyes. Greyson Corey was dangerous to her peace of mind. She knew enough about herself to know that.

  Removing her hand, she took a few steps toward her car. "How soon can you deliver the ladder?"

  "We close the store on Saturdays at five. I can do it then if you'll be home."

  "I'll be there. I'm at 643 Marshall. Do you know where that is?"

  He nodded.

  If she stood there any longer she'd make some excuse to go back into the store and talk with him more. She needed to go home, change, and get to work. See her empty living room. Remember how Trent had betrayed her. Then she wouldn't care who delivered her ladder.

  She waved as she climbed into her car, but she didn't look at Greyson Corey again.

  ***

  Pulling up in front of the address Kit Saunders had given him, Grey couldn't understand the sense of lightness and excitement that he felt at the thought of seeing her again, talking with her again. He'd actually caught himself whistling this afternoon. Did the thought of an attractive woman stir that many hormones?

  Nah. He was simply glad it was Saturday, with a day off tomorrow that he could spend with Deedee. And maybe he was finally getting over the loss of his father. He still couldn't throw off the grip of grief that snuck up and unexpectedly grabbed him sometimes. They'd been close. After Grey's mother died, they'd raised Deedee together. Grey had spent his spare time in Corey's Hardware since as far back as he could remember. After he'd earned his accounting degree, his dad had made him an official partner. At thirty, what Grey wanted most in life was to turn the store around financially so it could prosper long into the future.

  Maybe Kit Saunders could help him do that.

  He climbed out of the truck and took the ladder from the bed in the back. Giant elms that looked centuries old lined the street. Bright red and white impatiens overflowing the garden's boundaries edged the flower bed that eased along the wrap-around porch. The rambling house reminiscent of bygone days looked as if it had worn many coats of paint, but the shiny cream coating gleamed in the late afternoon sun. An old-fashioned house didn't seem to fit Kit, but then what did he know?

  The concrete steps led to the wooden porch. The solid wood door stood open letting the warm breeze float through the screen. But something also floated out. Grey could hear a high lilting voice singing along to a popular song with a great deal of feeling. He held the ladder
waist high and listened.

  It was pure, sweet melody that reached down inside and grabbed a part of him that was alone and cold. The surprise of it made him suck in a breath. Damn! It was just a woman singing. He rapped sharply on the door.

  Kit kept singing.

  He rapped again, then knowing it was useless, he opened the door and stepped inside. Her living room was practically bare. As she sang along to a portable tape player positioned in the bay window, she precariously perched on a step stool, tearing flowered wallpaper from the upper half of the room.

  He called, "Kit?"

  She glanced over her shoulder, almost losing her balance. He hurried to catch her, but she jumped down and landed on both feet. "My gosh, I didn't know it was so late." Crossing to the CD player, she flicked it off.

  The surroundings faded away as Grey again felt captivated by the woman. Her cut-off denims were deep blue, ragged at the edges, hugging her as they couldn't possibly hug anyone else. She'd tied her flamingo-pink, short-sleeved blouse at the waist and as she moved, creamy skin peeked out above her waistband. Her hair hung silky and sleek along her cheeks. Not a trace of makeup. She didn't need it. Not with those blue, blue eyes and soft pink lips.

  His heart galloped and he gripped the ladder tighter.

  She crossed to him, gingerly guiding her battered sneakers over the plastic covering on the hardwood floor, avoiding strips of torn wallpaper. Motioning to the stepstool, she smiled. "As you can see, I need the ladder before I break my neck."

  "You should have waited," he said, his voice surprisingly gruff.

  She lifted her chin. "For what? I want to get this stripped so I can get to work."

  Holding the ladder in one hand, he moved the stepstool to a corner. "A remodeled room won't do you much good if you break your neck."

  Her silence met him as he opened the ladder, placing it where the stepstool once stood. Terse words shortly followed. "No one tells me how to live my life, Mr. Corey."