“That was really thoughtful.” Gretchen sounded almost at a loss.
“I don’t know about you, but I work a lot better when I’m comfortable,” Kylie said lightly, wanting to convey that it was no big deal despite the fact that she’d spent way too much time trying to decide on just the right selection to bring. “The sweats will probably be a little big, but nobody’s going to see you but me. I didn’t want to scare you with my stained and torn Lazy Ass Around the House sweats, so I brought you the Allowed Out in Public sweats. Big difference, you know.”
Gretchen blinked several times as she took the pile from Kylie’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Go get changed.” She turned to the bags of food and began laying out their dinner.
“Yes, ma’am.” There was a note of amusement in Gretchen’s voice that Kylie decided she liked.
Kylie moved the laptop and then set the round table with two plates, plastic silverware, and napkins. She scooted around the corner and snatched two Diet Cokes from the vending machine in the kitchenette. She opened all the containers, not knowing what Gretchen liked best but hoping she’d done okay in her choices. The smell was mouthwatering…pulled pork with barbecue sauce, sweet potato fries, black beans and rice, and fresh cornbread. They might be working until after midnight, but they would not go hungry doing it.
Gretchen returned to the office carrying her suit on a hanger and stopped in her tracks in the doorway. “Holy shit.” Kylie smiled. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day. Come and eat.” She let her eyes wander over Gretchen’s small frame. The sweatpants were indeed too big and the sleeves of the sweatshirt were pulled up to her elbows, but she looked adorable. Kylie decided to keep that comment to herself, suspecting that the word “adorable” was not among Gretchen’s preferences as a personal description.
“God, this smells good,” Gretchen sat down at the small table across from Kylie. “I didn’t know how hungry I was until I smelled you coming down the hall.”
“I order from this restaurant all the time. It’s really close to my place.”
“And you’re where?”
“In the city. Near Culver and University.” Gretchen took her first bite of the pork and closed her eyes in delight. “Oh, my God. This is sinful.”
Her rapturous expression made Kylie swallow and run her tongue over her bottom lip as she sat down. “You like it?” she asked, as if the answer wasn’t clearly written on Gretchen’s face.
“Oh, my God,” Gretchen said again, scooping another forkful into her mouth.
Kylie reached across the table with a napkin. “You’ve got…” She gently wiped the corner of Gretchen’s mouth. “A little sauce.” She cleared her throat and focused on her own plate.
“Thanks.”
Kylie could feel Gretchen’s eyes on her. It took an effort not to look up. “So, where do you live?”
“I’m off of Park Avenue.”
“Nice. You’re not far from me at all. You have an apartment?”
“Yeah.” Gretchen bit into her cornbread. “You?”
“I have a little house.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm. Why do you sound surprised?”
Gretchen studied Kylie’s face. “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed you were single and…I didn’t expect somebody single to have a house alone.”
“Hmm. You assumed I was single.” Kylie raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that.” Gretchen chuckled, and Kylie felt a perverse sense of pleasure at having made her laugh. She glanced down at Kylie’s hands. “No rings.”
“Ah. A safe assumption, then, I must admit.”
“And a correct one?”
Kylie met Gretchen’s coal-dark eyes and felt suddenly exposed, as if she were sitting at the table naked under the intent stare. She swallowed the food in her mouth, then responded, “Yes. A correct one.” Gretchen simply nodded and went back to her plate.
“And you?” Kylie probed.
“And me, what?”
“An eye for an eye, Ms. Kaiser.” As Gretchen looked at her, Kylie cocked her head to the side and said, “I get the impression that personal discussions aren’t your favorite things. But I spilled, so you have to admit that it’s only fair you spill a little, too.” Gretchen pointed her fork at Kylie. “Were you on the debate team in school?”
Kylie laughed. “Yes. Now answer the question.”
“Yes, Ms. O’Brien. I, too, am single.”
Kylie inclined her head in a nod of thanks. A wave a satisfaction rolled over her at having gotten a straight answer to a personal question from her boss. We’re making progress.
They ate in companionable silence for a while, Kylie stealing glances at Gretchen whenever she could. She refused to take the time to analyze why she enjoyed looking at her boss. The woman was damn attractive, especially dressed in Kylie’s clothes. It didn’t take much of a leap to picture Gretchen lounging on Kylie’s couch on a Sunday morning, newspaper open in front of her, steaming cup of coffee on the table, all bare feet and tousled hair.
Shaking the unsettling but not unpleasant vision from her head, Kylie asked, “So, this budget stuff is due tomorrow and then the pressure is finally off, at least for a while. What will you do for the weekend?” Memorial Day was looming, a long weekend for the company, and Kylie was looking forward to it.
“I’ll absolutely be sleeping in on Saturday. I can hardly wait. This four or five hours of sleep a night business is catching up with me. After that, I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I still have some unpacking to do. Maybe catch a movie.”
“I have an idea.”
Gretchen raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“My parents throw a big Memorial Day cookout every year. More often than not, it rains, but I think the forecast is actually calling for decent weather. It’s very informal, lots of people coming and going all day. You should come by. You can grab something to eat, get to know a few locals, see my smiling face, and if you’re not having fun, you can leave at any time.” The words had fallen from her mouth in a jumble and when she finished, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting.
Gretchen’s expression softened. “It’s very nice of you to invite me, Kylie. Thank you. Can I say ‘maybe’ and leave it at that?” It was about the answer Kylie expected. She’d be shocked if Gretchen actually did show up. But she had put the invitation out there and she was proud of herself. “Of course. I’ll leave you directions in the morning.”
They finished eating, passing food back and forth, snagging bites off one another’s plates as if they’d been sharing meals for years.
Finishing up, Gretchen stretched her arms over her head and yawned loudly. Kylie caught herself eyeing the peek of pale white tummy that was exposed and quickly averted her gaze.
“What do you say?” Gretchen asked. “Ready to get back to it?”
“Ready as I’m going to be at nine thirty at night.”
“That’s the spirit. I’d like to be able to e-mail this proposal and have it sitting on Wheeler’s computer when she comes in tomorrow morning. She doesn’t think we’ll be able to do it. Let’s knock her right off her chair. Want to?”
Kylie grinned at the little-kid tone in Gretchen’s voice.
“Absolutely.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gretchen Kaiser wasn’t used to being nervous. She’d done her best to banish the feeling from her internal stock and, for the most part, it didn’t show up often. But now, as she sat in her black BMW parked on the side of Sycamore Street, where she’d been lucky to find a spot at all, she surveyed the bumper-to-bumper cars parked along the same block and wondered what the hell she thought she was doing.
Mingling with her staff on a personal level was not a good idea, not in her book. It could create difficulties in the long run, so she’d always avoided it like the plague. But something about the expression on Kylie’s face when she’d extended the invitation…something i
n those damn blue eyes of hers was so…warm and engaging, Gretchen felt she really didn’t have a choice in the matter. And then Friday, when she’d left the directions, she just slid them onto Gretchen’s desk, right on top of the resume she was reading. She didn’t say a word; she just smiled and winked at Gretchen. Actually winked!
So here she sat. The cookout must be huge; she could hear the noise all the way down the street. She weighed her options as she glanced at the bottle of white wine sitting on her passenger seat. She could leave now and Kylie would never know she’d been here at all. That way, she wouldn’t have to deal with the nervousness, the awkwardness, or the uncertainty that were all clouding her brain. She wouldn’t meet any members of Kylie’s family and she would not have to see Kylie in a casual setting, relaxed and probably smiling. That was certainly the best course of action. Just leave right now. Go!
“Shit,” she sighed as she grabbed the bottle and opened the car door.
Checking her reflection in the car window, she redirected a stray lock of her dark hair and hoped she’d dressed appropriately. She’d tried to keep it simple: jeans, a light pink scoop-neck T-shirt with long sleeves in case it got chilly, and casual black shoes. Fussing with her hair once more, she blew out a breath and headed toward the noise coming from the back yard of number 77.
The day was beautiful, the temperature hovering in the high sixties to low seventies—an unusual occurrence for this time of year in Rochester, Gretchen had deduced from the weather reports. The O’Briens had indeed lucked out. The sky was clear and blue, and a gentle breeze wafted off nearby Lake Ontario, rustling the new leaves unfurling on the trees. Gretchen inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air after so many consecutive days stuck inside.
Sycamore was a nice, residential street in the suburbs. Unlike many of the new developments, it boasted sidewalks, and Gretchen followed one at an easy pace. The houses were nicely spaced apart and the lawns were neatly tended. Many people had begun to plant their summer flowers. Gretchen noticed impatiens and petunias in various colors and remembered how her mother had loved to plant annuals.
An older woman on her hands and knees, gardening gloves brown with dirt, waved as Gretchen passed. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Gorgeous,” Gretchen replied, thinking for the first time in ages that it would be nice to live in a little house on such a street and plant flowers out front every spring.
The O’Brien house was large and sunny yellow with white shutters and trim. The garage’s front and back doors stood open, and through them, Gretchen could see a throng of people milling around in the back yard. The precisely edged lawn was lush and green, a by-product of either chemical enhancement or a retired owner. Not a blade of grass was to be found on the smooth blackness of the driveway. The front shrubs looked like they’d been trimmed up recently. Three pots of rich red geraniums lined the simple concrete front steps. It was a house from the pages of a fairy tale: neat, warm, and inviting.
Crossing through the garage and entering the back yard was like walking into a giant frat party. The beat of a classic rock tune pounded from somewhere, and there had to be fifty people mingling, eating, and drinking. The atmosphere was welcoming, and the guests looked happy, chatting and laughing with one another.
Standing off to the side, Gretchen felt herself smile at the sight.
She located Kylie easily; she was surprised by how easily, as if Kylie was wearing some kind of homing device so Gretchen could find her.
She was standing by the grill near the center of the yard. Puffs of burger-scented smoke curled into the air around her, and she gave a musical laugh that carried across the yard. Next to her, an older gentleman wielded his spatula as he spoke to her. Gretchen knew instantly that he was Kylie’s father, and the obvious bond between them gave her a poke of sadness. She would never share such an easy rapport with her own father.
Kylie’s jeans hugged her hips gently, and Gretchen tried to prevent her eyes from lingering on her assistant’s backside, to no avail.
She took in the white T-shirt and the way the sun glinted off Kylie’s blond hair and sucked in a deep breath. She’d admitted to herself quite some time ago that she found Kylie extremely attractive. She’d even allowed herself to entertain a fantasy or two about her. But observing her unawares across the yard made Gretchen’s heart pound, and she wasn’t terribly comfortable with that. As a matter of fact, it increased her level of nervousness tenfold.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought with a grimace. If she turned and fled right now, she could actually escape without being seen. After all, nobody else here knew who she was and Kylie hadn’t noticed her yet.
As if on cue, Kylie turned in Gretchen’s direction, met her eyes, and her face lit up. She said something to the grill master, who also looked at Gretchen, and then she headed toward her. Gretchen shifted uncomfortably, muttering to herself about the impossibility of escape now.
“You made it.” Kylie said as she drew close. Her voice was filled with enthusiastic delight.
“I did.” Gretchen held out the bottle of wine.
“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
Kylie accepted the bottle, and she and Gretchen stood looking at one another, grinning, for several seconds. They were eye to eye, and Gretchen sent up a silent thanks that her casual shoes had a bit of a heel and Kylie had chosen to wear sneakers.
“Quite a party.” Gretchen stated the obvious.
Kylie seemed to draw a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here. Come on. I want you to meet some people.” Grasping Gretchen by the wrist, she pulled her into the crowd.
In the six weeks they’d worked together, Gretchen had never thought of Kylie as reserved or shy, or noticed any sign of timidity around others. But in her element, in a large group of people she knew well, she was even more friendly, outgoing, and sweet. Trailing along behind her like a little lost puppy, Gretchen enjoyed watching her interact with people. She charmed the older folks, the kids followed her as if she was the Pied Piper, even the couple of dogs pulled at their leashes, wanting to be scratched and kissed. Kylie obliged without a second thought.
They stopped at the line of coolers along the deck. “What can I get you?” Kylie asked, holding up the wine. “Should I open this bottle?
Do you want a beer? Pop? Oh, wait. You’re not from around here.” She smirked. “It’s probably soda to you, isn’t it?” Gretchen laughed. “Yeah, what the hell is ‘pop,’ anyway? A beer would be great, thanks.”
“Labatt? Coors? Light? Dark?”
“So many choices. Got a light in there?”
Kylie shook the ice water from the bottle. “Watching your figure, are you?” She winked at Gretchen and then pulled her along toward the grill.
She just winked at me again. Gretchen shook her head with a disbelieving grin as she followed.
“Hey, Dad,” Kylie said to the man diligently flipping burgers.
“This is Gretchen Kaiser. Gretchen, my father, Matthew O’Brien.” Gretchen shook the hand he held out. His grip was firm, his hand large and callused. “Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Please. Matt. Mr. O’Brien makes me feel old. Nice to meet you, too.”
Matt O’Brien was tall, probably six-one or six-two, and looked to be in his late sixties. What remained of his white hair circled his head like a donut. He gave the impression of a man who was in very good physical condition when he was younger; the only signs of his age were the balding head and the slightly protruding belly visible beneath the Kiss the Cook apron he had tied over it. When he smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his brown eyes were very prominent, making Gretchen suspect that he smiled often. Kylie’s eyes will crinkle just like that when she’s older. The thought came out of nowhere and Gretchen blinked several times, trying to clear it from her head.
“Your yard is lovely,” she said sincerely.
It was difficult to see it all through the crowd of people, but the back yard
seemed to be as neat and well kept as the front, not huge, but large enough. A light-colored wooden deck off the back of the house sported flower boxes filled with the same red geraniums that decorated the front steps. A colorful swing set in one corner was completely covered with children. A small, barn-shaped aluminum shed stood in the other.
“Well, thank you. I can only take credit for the grass. My wife is the flower expert.” Matt O’Brien took a swig from the beer bottle that was resting on the grill’s counter space.
“Speaking of…” Kylie’s eyes rested on an older woman approaching with a large, empty plate.
If Gretchen had known instantly that Matt was Kylie’s father, the family resemblance was nothing compared with Kylie’s likeness to her mother. The woman walking toward them was exactly what Gretchen pictured Kylie would look like at age sixty-five. She actually did a double take as Mrs. O’Brien handed the plate to her husband.
After Kylie made the introductions, Caroline O’Brien shook Gretchen’s hand in the way older women tended to, more of a loose clasp than a firm pump. “It’s so nice to meet you, Gretchen. Kylie has told me a lot about you.”
Gretchen glanced at Kylie. “Should I be worried?” Caroline chuckled. “Oh, no, no. She very much enjoys working for you.”
“Well, she’s a wonderful employee. I’m lucky to have her.” She felt a thrill at the pink tint that suddenly colored Kylie’s cheeks and took a swallow of her beer to hide her smile.
Caroline lifted the plate, now piled high with hamburgers of various sizes and doneness, and hurried back to the deck, where a table filled with food stood waiting for guests to indulge.
“Your mother’s a very beautiful woman,” Gretchen said quietly to Kylie.
Kylie’s smile was filled with pride. “Yeah. I hear that a lot. Thanks.”
“Hey, Short Round!” The greeting was followed by a slap to Kylie’s behind. She tried to roll her eyes, but Gretchen could see that she was laughing instead. She elbowed the very tall, thin guy behind her, whose hair was exactly the same shade as hers.
Too Close to Touch Page 7
