The Bridesmaid and the Billionaire

by Shirley Jump

  So, even though it rebelled against every ounce of decorum bred into his society blue blood, Kane put down the fork, picked up the red plastic ketchup bottle and gave it a squeeze. Nothing came out. He squeezed harder, and still the nozzle remained dry.

  “Give it a shake,” Susannah suggested. “Then try again.”

  He did as she said. Almost.

  Ketchup sprayed across the fries, the tabletop, his Coney dog, and Kane’s shirt, dotting everything like a crime scene. Even Rover got a glop. The dog let out a yelp, jumped back, then turned and started licking at his fur with his built-in tongue washing machine.

  Kane cursed, reaching for the pile of napkins, trying to control the tomato carnage. But Susannah started laughing. “You squeezed and shook at the same time, silly. And you did it like a man.”

  “Like a man?”

  “Yeah, with the strength of the Incredible Hulk. It’s a ketchup bottle, not a he-man contest. Here, let me help you.” She reached out, took some of the napkins, and in an instant, had the table mess cleaned up.

  He glanced down. “The table’s good, but I look like the victim of a serial killer.”

  Susannah leaned forward, dipping her napkin first in a bit of water and began to dab at his shirt. Her long hair draped across her face, shielding part of her cheek, her eye, from his view. He reached up and pushed the locks back, and she paused, her gaze connecting with his. Kane’s heart began to pound harder. He would have kissed her, but they were in a public place, and he swore half the town was watching them.

  “I, ah, don’t think that’s going to do it,” he said, gesturing to his shirt. “Is there a dry cleaner nearby?”

  Susannah pulled back, moving to tuck her hair back, just as Kane had wanted to. A slight flush filled her cheeks. “There is, but Abe closes up shop before noon on Thursdays. It’s his fishing day.”

  “You’re kidding me. Who runs a business that way?”

  “Someone who doesn’t believe in working himself to death. Abe’s almost seventy, and the dry-cleaning thing is only a part-time job.”

  “Then why doesn’t he hire in some help? Then he could stay open later.”

  She smiled and waved at the full tables. “Look around you. This town isn’t exactly overrun with people who need dry cleaning.”

  True, Chapel Ridge had that exact kick-back-and-put-your-feet-up air about it that had made him choose to stay here. Few people he’d seen out and about had been dressed in anything fancier than jeans and a T-shirt.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get out the stain,” Susannah said, reaching out again with the napkin, then pulling back at the last second as if she’d thought better of the gesture. “I’m afraid all my dabbing only made it worse.”

  She hadn’t made anything worse except his attraction to her.

  “It’s okay. I’ll just buy a new shirt.”

  “Or you can wash that out. It’ll just take a little elbow grease.”

  “Wash it out?” he repeated.

  “Sure. Just put on some pretreatment and throw it in the washer—” She put a hand on her forehead. “That’s right. You’re staying in the cabins at the lake. You don’t have a washer there, which means you’d have to go to the laundromat. And for one shirt, that’s a whole lot of expense.”

  He nearly laughed out loud. What could it possibly cost to run a load of wash? A few dollars? “Yes, I’m sure it is a whole lot of expense, as you say.”

  She gave him a curious look. Damn. He’d been too formal. He needed to loosen up. Become more of a jeans guy. Kane cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’d rather not spend the cash, if I can help it. You know, watching the budget on vacation, and all.”

  “I can wash your shirt for you.”

  “Oh no, really, you don’t have to.”

  “It’s no trouble. How many shirts could you have brought with you for a vacation? You probably need this one, right?”

  He didn’t. How could he tell her he had dozens and dozens exactly like this back home? That a shirt like this didn’t come from any old corner discount store, but from a tailor Kane had known since he took his first steps? That he could flip out his cell phone and have three more custom made and in his hands in a matter of a day? “You’re right,” he lied. “I only have a couple of shirts with me.”

  “Then come on over to my house, and we’ll take care of that mess.”

  Go over to her house. Alone. And do some laundry? Heck, right now he’d probably follow her to sort recyclables. “Sure, sounds good.”

  But as they got up and tossed their trash away, Kane realized every time he tried to untangle himself from his life, all he was doing was creating even more of what he already had on his hands.

  A mess.

  What had seemed like a good idea at the time had suddenly turned into one very bad idea. Susannah stood in the laundry room, a bottle of detergent in her hands, and tried really hard not to stare at Kane Lennox’s bare chest.

  The man could have been a commercial for weight machines. Or cologne. Or, heck, bottled sex appeal. Broad shoulders framed a well-defined chest, with a true washboard abdomen. What kind of workout did the guy do? Whatever his regimen, he’d make millions selling the steps to that physique.

  She knew a few women who’d pay just to touch him. Present company not included. Of course.

  Uh-huh. Boy, she could barely even lie to herself.

  “Do you need to wash anything else? Or just my shirt?” Kane asked.

  Damn. He’d caught her staring. “Just a few things,” she said, then turned back to the washer, twisting the dial until water started filling the tub. She dropped his oxford inside, added a few other items from a nearby basket, then closed the lid.

  “I’m no expert at this, but don’t you need some kind of soap, too?” He gestured toward the plastic bottle still in her grasp.

  Heat filled her face. If Susannah could have crawled into the washing machine herself, she would have. “I, uh, forgot.” She unscrewed the cap on the detergent and measured the right amount of liquid before adding it to the already churning water.

  That’s what she got for staring at the man’s naked chest. No more doing that. Uh-huh. Easier said than done while he was all exposed like that.

  “Do you want to borrow one of Paul’s shirts? I’m sure he’s left one or two clean ones behind. He’s always doing his laundry over here. At least until yours is dry?”

  “Nothing against Paul, but he’s a foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter than me.” Kane grinned. “I don’t think anything he owns will fit.”

  Susannah’s gaze drifted back to Kane’s bare chest. He had one thing right. He definitely had more build than Paul. “Won’t you be…cold?”

  The grin quirked up higher on one side. “Not if you aren’t.”

  The temperature between them arced upward, spiking three degrees, five, ten. Susannah took a step back, and bumped into the stainless steel machine. She slid to the right, but there was nowhere to go in the small room. No way to insert any distance between herself and Kane. No way to lower the charge. “Would you like some…coffee?”

  He gestured toward the churning appliance. “It appears I’m your hostage, for a while, at least. Do with me what you will.”

  Temptation curled a tight grip around her. She wanted to kiss him—and wanted to run. Susannah hurried out of the laundry room and down the hall to the kitchen. “Decaf okay?” Because she definitely didn’t need the extra stimulant of caffeine.

  “Fine with me.”

  She skidded to a halt on the vinyl tile. New dirty dishes littered the kitchen countertops. Already? When did Jackie and Paul have time to make these kinds of messes?

  Susannah knew the answer. Friends stopped by the house as frequently as birds landing on telephone lines. Like their hosts, every guest helped themselves to food and silverware, but did little more than leave the mess behind, as if some troop of elves was going to whisk it away while they were watching the latest blockbuster movie. A half-em
pty bag of chips sat on the table, surrounded by crumpled dirty napkins and a stack of used paper plates. There were empty soda cans, beer bottles and pizza boxes, and a nearly empty container of mint chocolate chip ice cream melting onto the kitchen table.

  Insensitive. Rude. And embarrassing. Before she could pray Kane would get derailed by a sidestep into the living room, he entered the kitchen. And didn’t say a word, which said ten times more than if he’d asked her what human tornado had just run through the twelve-by-fourteen room.

  Susannah’s face heated. “It doesn’t always look like a frat house around here,” she said, grabbing several of the dirty dishes on her way to the sink. She loaded them into the sink, then started running water while she loaded the coffeepot. Though what she’d said wasn’t true, she still felt compelled to defend her sister and future brother-in-law’s slovenly habits. Irritation rose in her chest at the renewed mess, but she tamped it down. A few more days, that was all, and then she’d be gone, and they’d be doing their own dishes.

  “I’m not complaining,” Kane said, but she could see shock in every inch of his face. Clearly the man lived in neater conditions than this. He moved to sit down at the table, found a stack of newspapers from that afternoon in the chair and picked them up, then stood there, as if he’d never seen a pile like that before and hadn’t the foggiest idea what to do with them.

  “Let me get those,” Susannah said, grabbing the papers from him. She dumped the sheets into the recycle bin, then began gathering the trash and tossed it away.

  Kane lowered himself into the seat, with all the care of someone placing a delicate vase on an earthquake fault. “So you, uh, live here, with your sister?”

  “And Paul, even though he doesn’t technically live here, he’s here so much, he might as well, too. But I’ll only be here for a little while longer.” She bustled around the kitchen, working on the trash and the dishes in a two-prong approach. Take the pizza box to the trashcan, on the way back stop for the glasses, drop some of the dishes into the sink. Repeat the process over and over. Rover settled on a small carpet by the back door, curling himself into a furry ball before falling asleep.

  “You’re moving out, after the wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “And buying your own house?”

  She laughed. “That’s not in my budget, no. Dog washing doesn’t pay that well.”

  “You must have a five-year plan.”

  She turned around to face him, putting her back to the sink. “Five-year plan? I’m just trying to get through this wedding, then get the hell out of this town for a little while before I have to return to the real world. Then I’ll worry about the rest.”

  “That’s hardly a smart strategy.”

  “Excuse me? You don’t know me. Why do you think you can tell me how to live my life?”

  “I…” He paused. “I don’t. You’re right. It’s a bad habit of mine.”

  “Well, break it.” She pivoted back to the dishes and began filling the sink. Regret washed over her. She’d jumped on Kane—and she rarely did that to people. He was merely being honest, and that was the one trait she valued most in others. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tense, because there’s been so much going on around here lately.”

  “And I was completely out of line. I guess I’m just used to being in charge.” He put out his hand. “Truce?”

  When Susannah shook Kane’s hand, electric heat jolted her senses. She broke away and returned to the sink. “If you’re hungry, we can, ah, make some sandwiches.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Do you mind starting them? Then I can get these dishes out of the way.” And I can avoid looking at your bare chest, and touching you and thinking about touching you. All bad ideas, because I am totally not getting into a relationship right now. “I know that’s breaking all the rules of Hostess 101, but I can’t stand a full sink.” She shot him a smile, one she hoped covered every one of her traitorous thoughts.

  “Sure.” Kane rose, and Susannah tore her gaze away from his bare chest for the fortieth time. “Uh…where do you want me to start?”

  With me. Just one kiss. Then—

  “The fridge. There’s ham and cheese in there. We could grill the bread. If you like. Or—” she glanced again at him and her thoughts raced one more time around the hormonal track “—not.”

  “Okay.”

  A note of doubt rose in his voice, but when Susannah looked back, Kane was in the refrigerator, searching for the ingredients. And searching some more. And some more. “Try the door,” she said. “In the little compartment, above the eggs.”

  He lifted the clear lid, then pulled out the packaged American cheese slices. “This is cheese? In these little wrappers?”

  She laughed. “Haven’t you had American cheese before?”

  He held the package in his hand, flipping it back to front, then front again, his nose wrinkling up with an expression that said he had about as much familiarity with the bright yellow slices as he did with Martians. “Oh, yeah. Uh, maybe.”

  Who had never tasted American cheese? Before she could puzzle over Kane’s reaction, he was back in the fridge. “Where did you say I’d find the ham?”

  “In the slim drawer, the center one.”

  He rummaged some more, then swung around, a second package in his opposite hand. Susannah paused, nearly losing the plate from her soapy grip. If there was a sexier sight than a half naked man holding sandwich fixings, she had yet to see it.

  “Is this what you were talking about?”

  “Uh…yeah,” she said.

  “This is ham.” A statement, more than a question. Again, he gave the prepackaged ingredients a curious once-over. “From a deli?”

  Susannah laughed. “From a grocery store. I assure you, it’s good to eat. Bread’s in the breadbox.” When Kane remained rooted to the spot, she gave him a helpful point in the right direction. “Mayo’s in the fridge, if you want that, on the door. Mustard’s right beside it. And butter knives are in the drawer by my hip.” She shifted to the right. Kane’s gaze followed the movement, hunger darkening his cobalt eyes.

  A shiver chased up her spine. So she wasn’t the only one with a little heightened awareness.

  The glass in her fingers slipped beneath the water, bouncing against the stainless steel sink. Susannah concentrated again on her work, instead of on Kane. He’d be gone in a few days, and so would she. Sharing anything more than a sandwich with him would be foolish.

  Crazy.

  Irresponsible.

  And if there was one word no one would ever find on Susannah Wilson’s personal résumé, it was irresponsible.

  The glass joined plates in the strainer, followed by silverware. Soon the sink began to empty out and the pile of dirty dishes disappeared. She glanced over at Kane, expecting to see a stack of sandwiches and finding instead—

  A man who looked lost.

  “Need some help?”

  “Uh…” Kane held the butter knife in an en garde position over the bread and condiments, then lowered it again. “Yeah.”

  Susannah drained the sink, dried her hands, then moved beside him. “Having trouble deciding between mustard and mayo or something?”

  He looked down at the bright yellow bottle of mustard. “I’m just used to a…different kind.”

  “Sorry. This is all I had. I might have some honey mustard or maybe some Dijon in the cabinet, if you want me to look.”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” He unscrewed the mayonnaise jar, dipped the knife into the container, then slapped a glob of the white stuff onto a slice of wheat.

  “You really like your mayonnaise.”

  “Is that too much?” He stepped back, appraised his work. “It looks like a science experiment gone awry, doesn’t it?”

  “Hey, it’s your sandwich.”

  “Cooking is not exactly my forte.” He held the knife out to her. “You want to take over?”

  “I think I better. I can already feel my chol
esterol jumping off the charts.” She shot him a grin, then, in the space of a few seconds, had two ham and cheese sandwiches assembled and placed on paper plates. She added fresh mugs of coffee, then gestured toward the kitchen table. “We can eat here, or take it outside. Rover might prefer the latter.”

  “Outside,” Kane said. “On this trip, I want to spend as much time outdoors as I can. I spend way too many hours in an office.”

  An office. He’d said jewelry store earlier. Maybe Kane was a manager, or maybe she was getting too hung up on details. Susannah wanted to ask, then remembered their “Just Kane” and “Just Susannah” pact, and didn’t say a word.

  After switching the laundry to the dryer, Susannah led him through the kitchen and out to the deck, Rover bringing up the rear. As soon as they hit the backyard, Rover’s little legs were in motion, carrying him around the grassy space, from tree to shrub, one massive scent investigation. “He’s having a great time.”

  “I can already attest to the front yard’s attributes. I’ll let Rover give you the doggy thumbs-up on the back. Or is it paws-up?” Kane gave her a teasing smile.

  She sat in a deck chair, easing into the thick cushion, the sandwich forgotten. For now, there was a gorgeous man smiling at her, and she was going to enjoy that. “Thanks again for your help today. I never would have finished without you.”

  “It was my pleasure. And believe me, I understand having too much on your plate.”

  Before Susannah could answer him, Kane’s cell phone started chirping. Rover barked, startled by the sound, and started running in a circle. Susannah rose, helping to calm the dog. “I don’t think they’re going to give up unless you answer that.”

  “You’re probably right.” Kane flipped out the cell, then huffed a hello into the receiver.

  Rover made a barking beeline for a squirrel running across the back of the yard. Susannah followed him, catching snippets of Kane’s conversation as she went by, noting the lines of frustration in his face. Because of the dog? Or the caller?