Kit And Kisses

by Smith, Karen Rose

  Maggie had insisted she wasn't ready for love when Eric walked into her life. Look what had happened between them! Yet despite being sisters, Kit knew she was different from Maggie. She was bossier, more assertive. Not as easy to love. She didn't even know why she was thinking about loving again. She'd just met Grey. Yes, she was attracted to him. But that's all it was—attraction. And apparently he was already involved with someone. No way would she set a foot into that kind of mess.

  Kit stood. "I'd better get going."

  "I didn't mean to chase you away," Eric said.

  "You're not. I have some work to do at home."

  Maggie and Eric exchanged a look that said they didn't believe her. But she did have work to do. And right now work was a better alternative than thinking about the reaction Grey caused within her, let alone analyzing it with her sister and her husband.

  ***

  Friday evening, Grey rang Kit's doorbell. Yes, he could have taken the contract to her office. He probably should have. But he didn't want that professional side of Kit to surface again, the one who didn't smile much and talked politely only about business.

  She came to the door, plastering trowel in hand. She'd pushed her hair behind her ears. Perspiration gleamed above her yellow tube top and it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. While his body responded to that, his eyes lingered on the red short shorts baring her lovely long legs. The July heat stuck his shirt to his back but Kit's appearance made parts of his body burn and that had nothing to do with the summer temperature.

  "Grey!" She took a step back.

  He lifted the contract in his hand. "I signed on the dotted line."

  "Um, well..." She looked over her shoulder. "I'd invite you in but it's hot as blazes in here. I only have an air conditioner in the bedroom..."

  He gave a quick thought to Kit, in her bedroom, with or without an air conditioner, and focused on the trowel in her hand. "Plastering?"

  "I have a mess where I pried off the wainscoting. I don't see how I can paint or paper over it."

  "Would you like me to take a look?"

  She glanced again at the contract in his hand, then pushed her bangs from her brow. "Why not? I can use all the help I can get."

  Grey breathed a sigh of relief, until that moment not realizing exactly how much he wanted to talk to her. And not about business. He opened the door and followed the sway of her hips. A two foot square floor fan recycled the hot air through the living room. A new overhead light of oak and wrought iron with contemporary globes glowed brightly against the gathering darkness.

  Grey held out the contract. "You might want to put this in a safe place."

  She checked to see if he'd signed and dated it. "Do you have any questions?"

  "It was self-explanatory unless there's fine print I missed."

  A faint smile tilted her lips. "No fine print." She motioned toward the hallway. "I'm going to put this in my briefcase so nothing happens to it."

  Grey watched her go down a short hall and heard a door open. Probably her bedroom. Quickly, returning his attention to the living room, he studied the lower half of the walls. This was an old house, probably about a hundred years old from the style and the looks of the damage. Holes of every shape and size dotted the plaster. She'd patched one wall. He moved closer to examine her work.

  A few moments later, she said next to his elbow, "I can't paint over it. The patches are bumpy. And that will affect wallpaper, too. Do you have any suggestions?"

  "What about paneling?"

  She wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to make the room dark."

  "It doesn't have to be wood paneling. There are prints and patterns now as interesting as those on wallpaper."

  "But I already picked out a paper I liked."

  "There is a pre-paper you can put on the wall to prepare it. That might work. Or think about paneling to cover where the wainscoting was attached. You could use a chair rail at the seam. Then use the paper you picked out above that."

  She brought her hand to her chin and tapped her finger against her cheek as she thought about it. "Now, I'm not sure what would look best. Maybe paper two walls, panel the bottom of two... I'd still better patch the holes so I can do whatever I want when I decide."

  He took a peek into her kitchen and didn't see any signs of food. "Did you have supper yet?"

  "I didn't take the time. I wanted to get this finished tonight."

  "Want some help? We could order a pizza."

  Her gaze was wary. "You don't have to help me for me to do a good job on your account."

  He pushed his hands into his pockets and met her incorrect conclusion with a realization of his own. "Having pizza with you and patch plastering has nothing to do with the account."

  "What does it have to do with?"

  Her office persona had returned—voice even, eyes blank. He had no idea what was running through her mind. "Wanting to spend some time with you."

  Her eyes widened and he saw the vulnerability she tried hard to hide. Crossing to her, his intentions weren't clear in his own mind. "I gave you the wrong impression Saturday night."

  "About?" she asked, her tone neutral, the vulnerability again hidden.

  "I'm not involved with anyone."

  "You're not?"

  "I'm not."

  She tilted her head and asked suspiciously, "Then why did you let me think you were?"

  Kit wasn't the type of woman to let the tough questions go unasked. He knew that about her already. "It seemed easier...safer."

  A quick flash of understanding crossed her face. "You've been burned, too."

  Telling her about Susan would serve no useful purpose. Besides, he wasn't ready to discuss Deedee and what she meant to his life. "Yes. But even more than that, my life's complicated right now. The problems with the store. Whether I'm going to sell or not. I didn't know if I wanted to add another complication."

  "I see."

  He touched her face then, his thumb brushing over her soft skin, then lingering on her cheekbone. She didn't back away; she didn't give him any indication that she didn't want him to touch her. "But I like you. And if we're going to be working together, we might be able to do a better job if we're...friendly."

  Kit tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Grey's hand on her face was jumbling her thoughts, making her a bit dizzy, creating pictures in her mind. His presence in her apartment was making her feel underdressed, out of breath, and not at all herself. He wasn't even saying he wanted to date her, which was perfectly fine, she told herself, because she wasn't ready to date again.

  Dredging up her voice, she asked, "So you want to be friends?"

  He smiled a crooked smile that sent her pulse on a speed chase. "Yes. Any objections?"

  A small voice inside her whispered, It's a good place to start. A louder voice overrode the first by warning, Be careful. Stepping away from his touch, she stooped and picked up the bag of plaster mix. With a smile, she said cheerfully, "I can always use a friend. Especially one who's willing to work."

  He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that affected her almost as much as his touch. Taking the bag from her, a smile hovering on his lips, he said, "While I mix this, you call for the pizza."

  Still trying to absorb Grey's physical presence in her living room and the effect it had on her, she crossed to the kitchen and asked, "Any preference?"

  The heat that flashed for a moment in his green eyes weakened her knees. But the words out of his mouth were ordinary. "I'm partial to pepperoni and mushrooms."

  "Together or separate?"

  He chuckled. "Together."

  As she went to the phone, she struggled with the question of whether or not becoming friends with Grey was a good idea. As she lifted the receiver she realized it didn't matter because they were on their way. She already knew he liked pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms. Together.

  ***

  The heat increased instead of diminished a
s they worked. Sweat trickled between Kit's breasts as she sat on the floor smoothing a spot she'd just plastered. It was amazing she was getting anything accomplished when her attention kept straying. She looked over at Grey working on the same wall, perspiration beading on his brow. Drawing his wrist across his forehead, he grimaced and pulled his shirt away from his chest.

  "I can set the fan closer to you," Kit offered.

  "I don't think it will help. The circulation is best where it is. But I do think I'll take this off if you don't mind."

  Pulling his T-shirt from the band of his shorts, he waited for her answer.

  Mind? Why should she mind? "Go ahead."

  Before she could blink, he'd tugged it over his head. Throwing it over the ladder that stood in one corner, he smiled. "That's better."

  Better for him, maybe. She bit her lower lip as she tried not to stare. With a quick sideways glance, she took in his mussed black hair, his bare chest, his muscular arms, his broad shoulders. She couldn't prevent a second longer look. His chest hair was thick and full, surrounding his dark nipples and aiming down the middle of his chest. It didn't stop there, but she did. As she raised her head, her gaze smacked into his.

  Fire burned her cheeks as she quickly looked away. She dipped her trowel into the bucket of plaster and smoothed it across the wall. The only problem was—she missed the hole. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and concentrated on her task.

  When the doorbell rang, Grey was closer to the door than she was. When he stood and went to answer it, she scurried to her feet and called after him, "I have to get the money..."

  "I've got it," he called back, sidestepping her cats who'd stretched out in the middle of the living room.

  After the work Grey was putting in, she couldn't let him pay for dinner, too. She went to the kitchen and took a bill from her wallet. But when she returned, the delivery boy had left. Meeting Grey at the door, she held out the money to him. "Here."

  "Put it away, Kit."

  "I can't let you—"

  "Buy supper? Why not?"

  "Because...because...I'm just very careful about that sort of thing."

  He carried the pizza to the kitchen. "Why?"

  She followed, saying, "It doesn't matter why." She hated feeling vulnerable, she hated feeling as if she owed anyone anything.

  "Because of Higgins?"

  She nodded.

  He sat on the loveseat and patted the cushion next to him. "I'm not sure I understand the connection."

  Sighing, she sank down next to him. "He was the perfect con man, Grey. He wined me and dined me till the end. Expensive restaurants, flowers, presents. I guess he considered it a good investment because then he stole triple that and more." She shook her head. "I've been paying back bills for so long I don't want to be beholden to anyone."

  "Kit, this is just a pizza."

  "And what do you expect if you buy me the pizza?"

  "Half the pizza," he said with a poker face.

  She couldn't suppress her smile or the laugh that followed and felt so good. "You think I'm being silly."

  "I think you're making too much of a pizza."

  When she inhaled, she could smell pizza but she could smell Grey too. Male. Heat. A hint of aftershave or cologne. His skin was bronze from the summer sun, his chest hair only a few inches from her fingers. His green gaze flecked with sparks of gold dawdled across her face and came to rest on her lips. If she leaned toward him, she knew what would happen.

  Her mouth desert dry, she scooted away from him, saying, "I have soda in the fridge. I'll get it."

  At the refrigerator, she asked herself, How was she going to work professionally with this man?

  Easy. They'd both keep their clothes on.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. It was his bare chest that was making her crazy. That's all.

  Returning to the loveseat with the cans of soda and glasses, she sat a good six inches away from Grey.

  He picked up the soda and popped the top. "The can is fine." Tipping it up, he took long swallows.

  His neck was as tan as the rest of him. She watched each swallow, seeing the line of beard shadow extended far under his chin. Her fingers itched to trace it, to touch his skin, to find out if his chest hair was as soft as it looked. That chest again. Focusing on the pizza, she lifted a slice and took a bite.

  "Now that I've signed the contract, what else do you have planned for the store?"

  "You think I can remember without my notes?" she teased, thinking business was a safe topic.

  "If you're as sharp as I think you are, you certainly can."

  The compliment felt nice. Then she remembered all of Trent's compliments, his smooth lines.

  "Kit?"

  This was Greyson Corey, not Trent Higgins. But she didn't know him well enough to know how smooth he could be. "I think you should take a few lessons from the chain stores."

  "The impersonal service, the waiting in line..."

  "The amount of profit coming in."

  He scowled. "I told you I want to keep the store customer-friendly."

  "And we can do that. I don't intend to turn Corey's into something you don't want."

  "What ideas do you want to borrow from chain stores?"

  "Baskets, for one. If your customers pick up hand baskets when they walk in, they're more likely to pick up more merchandise."

  He finished off a piece of pizza and picked up another. "I don't have a problem with that. What else?"

  "A give-away."

  "If you're suggesting a cruise like Tri-Hill is giving away, forget it."

  Tri-Hill was one of the large chain stores in Meadeville. "I understand you can't afford that. But what about a Get-Away weekend for two in the Poconos or to Inner Harbor in Baltimore, or even to Williamsburg. I think people in this area would go for that. And as they sign up, you're developing a mailing list of the loyal customers who buy at your store. You can target them for special sales."

  He thought it over as the pizza draped over his hand. "I can see how that might work. I suppose hotels might donate nights just for the advertising."

  "Exactly." She let him digest the ideas before saying, "And then there's one big promotion all the others would lead up to. We'd specify a special day when we have the grand opening of the "new" Corey's Hardware. Emphasize customer service, emphasize sales, emphasize everything special about your store. We'd go all out with this. We'd send fliers, we'd give away the weekend and door prizes, have a hot dog stand, the mobile unit from the radio station to broadcast from the store. We'll put Corey's on the map."

  "We're talking about a real change, aren't we?"

  "It's the only way I can see to increase the volume of customers and sales. No, it won't ever be the same again, Grey. But isn't that the point of hiring me? To bring about positive change?"

  "Change usually brings loss."

  "Maybe. But if you can accept change positively, it can be rewarding, too."

  He seemed far away. As if he was thinking of all the ways change had affected him. This wasn't a shallow man. He was strong and stable and she got the feeling he was dependable, too. But could she trust her judgment again? She didn't depend on anyone...except Maggie for moral support. Needing, depending, loving, led to so much hurt. Maggie was the only person she could really trust.

  "Eric said you were a go-getter and if anyone could turn the business around, you could. But I thought he meant the books, not the nature of the store."

  Kit pushed the pizza box with her knee and faced him squarely. "Do you want your contract back?"

  He plopped his unfinished slice of pizza into the box, then held her gaze. "No."

  The electricity that had been building between them crackled around them. She fairly vibrated with it and experienced a magnetic pull so strong she felt her body lean forward.

  "Kit?"

  It was a question with only one answer. "Yes."

  How cou
ld a conversation be so short and so long at the same time? Years seemed to pass that were merely seconds as he searched her face. In slow motion, his hand came closer to her until it grazed her shoulder and slipped beneath her hair. The thread of desire between them pulled taut, making anticipation painful yet breathtaking at the same time.

  With his other hand, he stroked her cheek, heightening the wanting, intensifying the longing for his kiss. In a tender gesture, he brushed across her eyebrow, and tears pricked in her eyes. She didn't know why, she just knew he was touching more than her face.

  The heat from his bare skin enfolded her, the emerald lights in his eyes mesmerized her, the scent of him surrounded her. The nerve along his jaw beat in time with her heart.

  "I didn't intend for this to happen," he said in a husky rasp.

  "Didn't you?" They'd both felt the chemistry from the moment they'd met.

  "No. Because we do have to work together," he murmured as he leaned closer and all thoughts of work and plastering faded into the sensation of his lips finding hers.

  The press of his lips was hot and firm and tempting. Gently sweeping the seam of her lips with his tongue, he asked her to open to him. She did...and waited. His tongue searched and excited. His hands held her head while he tasted her thoroughly. No other part of them touched, and that lack itself was frustrating and erotic. It only took a few moments until she wanted more...of the kiss, of touching, of Grey.

  She lifted her hands to his shoulders and as she closed her fingers over his skin felt weak all over. He was so...male. So hot. So... Thoughts fled as he stroked her tongue with his, as desire surged through her blotting out the past, inviting her to take a risk, freeing her to need more.

  She'd thought she'd known passion, she'd thought she'd known about the chemistry between a man and a woman. Explosive had never been part of it. Neither had the somersaulting sensation in her stomach. Neither had the overwhelming yearning to touch a man and have him touch her.

  Why Grey? Why now?

  He said he hadn't intended this to happen because ...because...they had to work together. This was more than friendly. He was a client for goodness sake! She was going to save his store. They didn't even know each other and here she was...