by Dawn Temple
“I said, I wish you weren’t spending your holiday alone.”
“I’m not alone.” The truthful answer was instinctive, but when Kyle’s head whipped in her direction, his left eyebrow cocked into a question mark, she began to second-guess herself.
She didn’t want to lie, but if Lindy knew she was stranded up here with a man she barely knew, Lindy would freak out. Shayna hated the idea of adding to her stress, especially since there wasn’t anything her pregnant friend could do about the situation.
Besides, given her unprecedented physical reaction, it was best no one knew about his short visit, especially her best friend, who had a tendency to see more than Shayna wanted her to.
“What do you mean ‘not alone’?” Lindy asked.
“Well, I’ve got Brinks to keep me company.” Warmth that had nothing to do with the fire flushed Shayna’s skin. She wanted to turn her back and ignore her guest, but instead, she leveled her gaze at him.
He shrugged one shoulder and returned his attention to the fire.
“Oh, you and that dog.” Lindy’s exasperated sigh was interrupted by the muffled sound of Travis’s voice in the background. “Looks like I’ve gotta go.”
“Oh, you and that husband,” Shayna teased.
“Damn right. I can only hope one day—one day soon—you find a man who outranks even Brinks.”
“Me, too,” Shayna told her friend.
She thumbed the off button and cradled the phone in her lap. In her periphery, she saw Kyle’s body swivel as he sat on the hearth, his back to the fire. The warm glow played through his hair like sunshine.
“Ashamed to tell your friends about me?”
If only it were that simple. “Of course not. Lindy’s pregnant, and I didn’t want her to worry about me being stuck up here with a potential lunatic.”
“Potential? So the jury’s still out?” His lips curled, crinkling his dimple to life.
Sitting in the beam of that sexy smile, her blood warmed, delicious tingles zinging to all her sensitive places. “I believe I’ll plead the fifth.”
“I thought you were all about social chitchatting?”
“Oh, I am, but I also believe a woman’s entitled to her secrets.” Hyperaware of just how close Kyle’s body was to hers, she sprung to her feet. He rose too, his nearness effectively pinning her in place.
His fingers brushed the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Careful, Shayna.” The deep timbre of his voice pulsated beneath her skin. “Uncovering a woman’s secrets is a temptation most men can’t resist.”
Shayna’s focus was riveted on his firm lips as he spoke. Would his kiss be tentative and tender or demanding and devastating?
Forcibly reminding herself that she had too much at stake to risk finding out, she sidestepped around him. “Thanks for the warning. A girl can never be too careful.”
Shayna dillydallied in her room for as long as she dared. She dressed, deciding on her favorite jeans (the magical ones that made her look like she had long legs) and her new orange silk-and-cashmere blend sweater. Telling herself it was all about the holiday spirit, she put a little extra effort into her makeup and ditched her regular braid in favor of a softer twist.
She didn’t know what irked her more—that she’d lied about his presence or that Kyle had called her on it. She honestly hadn’t wanted to risk upsetting Lindy, but more than anything, she didn’t want everyone and their brother to find out she’d been stranded with Kyle.
It wouldn’t take long for tongues to start wagging. Her neighbors would speculate about them entertaining themselves horizontally, even though Shayna had never been the casual fling type. But truth be told, had Kyle been stranded here for any other reason, goodness knew the speculation would have been dead-on. She wanted that irritating man something fierce.
If she didn’t find some way to establish stronger boundaries, she would likely become so distracted by her attraction that Kyle could talk her into anything.
Rising worry propelled her into action. She had to get control of her rampant hormones. The next forty-eight hours were critical. She had to stay focused, she had to maintain a safe distance and mostly, she had to find a way to get Kyle—and Walker—out of her life. Pronto.
How the heck would she accomplish such a monumental task? First, no more mooning over her sexy houseguest. That would lead to nothing but trouble, and she certainly didn’t need any more of that.
Step two, figure out how the heck to turn down Walker’s crazy proposal and cut all ties with him and Patty.
Easy as pie, right?
While she waited for inspiration to strike, she’d just have to march down there, park Kyle in front of the football games and sequester herself in the kitchen.
Not the greatest game plan, but somehow, she’d have to make it work. Grabbing her nearly finished Ms. Noel costume, she headed downstairs, delightfully surprised by the roaring fire and the scrumptious aroma of sautéing onions. The rattle of pots and pans led her to the kitchen, where she found Kyle standing at the stove, his back to her. Brinks noticed her presence first and raced over, calling her to the man’s attention. He turned, his face flushed from the heat of the stove.
His eyes slowly roamed up and down her body. Feeling more exposed than she had last night in her gaping robe, she forced herself to stand steady under his heated regard, despite the heavy warmth invading her belly. She had to keep these blasted reactions hidden or he’d pounce like a mountain lion feasting on a scared rabbit.
“Nice.” A muscle trembled along his whiskery jawline as he turned back to the sizzling pan.
That single, soft-spoken syllable affected Shayna more than a bucketful of flowery words ever could. She had to lick her suddenly parched lips before she could respond. “Thanks.”
She dropped her hand onto Brinks’s head and rubbed behind his ears. His liquid brown eyes stared up at her. One side of his mouth was hooked on his teeth. The look seemed to say, “Go on. I’ve got your back.”
Putting on her game face, Shayna tossed the costume onto the table and headed for the sink. “You look like an old pro in here,” she commented as she washed her hands.
He shrugged. The movement’s forced nonchalance reminded her of the foster care children she worked with at the County Community Center. They craved praise and encouragement but got it so rarely that when they did they rejected it. “I’ve been cooking since I was a teenager.”
“Did your mother teach you?”
“No,” he said bitterly. “She wasn’t what you’d call the domestic type.”
Again, she was taken aback by the reminder that she’d so misjudged his background. The man had done an awesome job of washing away all the visible signs of his less than stellar childhood. “So where’d you learn?”
“In high school, I worked nights at a greasy diner.” With a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid slices of the bell peppers she’d picked this morning into the sizzling pan. “By the time I got to college, I had landed a position as line cook at a posh supper club.”
She could easily picture him maturing, both in age and in skill, and working his way up the food-service ladder. Guess he came by that bulldog determination naturally.
“Lucky me, getting stranded with a man who can cook,” she joked, wanting to steer clear of the past. Very dangerous territory. “So, what’s on the menu?”
“Corn chowder, broccoli and rice, beer bread, baked apples, ham and green bean casserole.”
“Sounds yummy. And complicated. And way beyond the capabilities of me and my poor neglected pantry.”
“All those fresh vegetables are the key. And I found all kinds of good stuff in the freezer. Your green thumb has saved the day.” His lips curled, his eyes twinkled, his delicious dimple teased. The look was pure charm.
Good. Charisma she could handle. It was the notion that he’d try to get at her with honest commiseration that she worried about.
“So, what can I do to help?”
K
yle turned off the gas under the skillet and moved it to a back burner before turning, his face comically contorted into a mask of outraged alarm. “You do know Thanksgiving dinner requires actual cooking, right?”
Jeez. Why did he have to be so darn likable?
Laughing, she jabbed his arm. “Very funny. I’m not completely useless in the kitchen. I can certainly follow a recipe.”
“I’m sure you can, but for today, I’m banning you from the kitchen.”
“But it’s my kitchen.”
He spread his arms, indicating the groceries and cooking gear covering the counter space. “I plan to trade a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner for my room and board. All you have to do is relax and let me do all the work.” His dimple flared to life.
“Said the spider to the fly.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Not one lick, buster.”
“Well, I could let you cook and just write you a check to cover my expenses, but I figured that would piss you off.” His dimple beamed even brighter, and she had to fight back a grin of her own.
She knew his offer was a beguiling trap. Nothing with this man was as simple as it sounded, but honestly, it was hard to see the downside of having a good-looking guy cook you a lavish meal.
“Do you promise to behave?”
He held his fingers aloft in a two-fingered salute. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you really a Boy Scout?”
“What do you think?”
“I think this is going to be a very interesting day.”
“Does that mean we have a deal?”
“Yeah. You cook and I’ll clean.” She extended her hand. His large, warm palm swallowed hers. Unlike the first time they’d shaken hands, at the ground breaking ceremony, this time Shayna’s skin wasn’t insulated by gloves. The shock of skin on skin contact shot a bolt of electricity up her arm, sending a river of wet heat straight to her core.
“Deal.” He withdrew his hand, his thumb dragging slowly and sensuously across the sensitive skin of her palm. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice. “Now scram, or we’ll end up going to bed hungry.”
She nodded and backed out of the narrow space, stopping only long enough to retrieve her costume. As she plopped herself on the sofa, a safe distance from the lust storm raging in the kitchen, Shayna figured she’d be going to bed hungry tonight, no matter how much food Kyle prepared.
The man had stirred a craving in her that she feared she’d never satisfy.
Chapter Six
After two straight hours of cooking, Kyle’s body still hungered for a taste of Shayna. He slid the casserole dish into the oven, fighting the urge to slam the oven door.
Normally, he found cooking a great stress-reducer, but with erotic images of Shayna filling his brain, he couldn’t find his usual peace. Perhaps if he didn’t keep catching glimpses of her curled up in the corner of the sofa, firelight sparking blond highlights to life in her luxurious hair, the tip of her pink tongue captured between her perfectly white teeth as she stretched and smoothed a portion of red velvet across her lap.
His body grew hard and tight. Damn, but this woman packed an unwelcome punch. He’d come to Tennessee to get a job done, not compromise his professional ethics, but being around Shayna made it nearly impossible to keep his mind on business.
Earlier, when they’d shaken hands, the spark had nearly short-circuited his brain. All he’d been able to think of was pulling her body against his and tasting those luscious, shimmering lips.
Who the hell was he kidding? He’d wanted to strip off her skintight jeans and make love to her on the kitchen table.
Hell of a way to earn her trust.
Damn it. Earning her trust wasn’t supposed to be a part of the plan.
Finding out about Shayna’s dual birth certificates gave Kyle a hell of an advantage, and he should be planning how and when to use the information. No only did it strengthen his client’s position but it also added teeth to Patty’s more nefarious claims, which until this morning, he’d thought preposterous.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He knew from experience that delaying bad news only made it more difficult to deliver. And to receive. The situation called for swift, decisive action, but every strategy he came up with felt heartless and cruel.
Bottom line was he’d lost his objectivity and with it, his edge. He found himself worrying more about sparing Shayna than serving his client. Definite career suicide.
“Hey.” Shayna cautiously entered into the kitchen. “Care for some company? All this silence is getting on my nerves.” She pulled out a chair and sat facing into the kitchen.
Seeing her so close to the scene of his recent fantasy rattled him. How much temptation was one man expected to resist?
Trying to maintain his cool by focusing on the familiar routines of cooking, he grabbed the pan of boiled eggs and drained the water into the sink. “Aren’t you used to the quiet?”
“Usually it doesn’t bother me, but today’s a holiday and that’s different.”
“How?”
“You know.” She shrugged as if the answer should be obvious. “Holidays mean lots of friends and family, tons of talking and laughing and gossiping and catching up. Not having all that makes me really miss my family. Surely, spending the holiday away from your home, you can understand how I feel.”
The boiled egg he’d been in the process of shelling oozed through his tightly fisted fingers. “I don’t have much contact with my family anymore.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Genuine regret laced her voice. “So how do you normally spend the holiday?”
“Scooping dressing at a local homeless shelter.” He felt a pang of regret for leaving the mission hanging. He knew from personal experience how demanding hungry kids could be. Volunteers were always at a premium for the annual holiday feast, and he knew that even if his face wouldn’t be missed, his hands certainly would.
“That’s great. My daddy always said sharing your blessings with others feeds the soul and keeps good things coming your way.”
“In California, we call that karma.”
“In Tennessee, we call it being good people.” Cautiously, she edged farther into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of iced tea. “So do you cook, too, or just serve?”
“Are you kidding? It would take me a year to make enough cornbread dressing to feed thousands.”
“But you send a check, don’t you? Probably anonymously, right?”
Amazed that she’d once again pegged him, he shrugged as he finished dicing the last egg. “I’m always looking for year-end tax deductions.”
“Bull. You donate money and volunteer your time because you, Kyle Anderson, are good people, no matter how hard you try to hide it.” Rather than returning to the table, she leaned against the edge of the counter.
“Don’t paint me as a hero too quickly. After the shelter, I spend the rest of the long weekend at the office. It’s amazing how much you can accomplish when no one’s around to interrupt.”
“You work on Thanksgiving? That’s so sad.”
“It gives me an edge. I told you I’m determined to make partner.” He covered the chopped eggs and washed his hands. Tired of struggling with his conscience, he decided to try another tack. If he could convince her to cooperate with Walker’s plan, there’d be no reason to expose James Miller’s secrets.
“Speaking of sharing your blessings, I’ve been thinking about this Noel Festival and the money you’re hoping to raise for the youth center. A million dollars would buy a ton of books and basketballs.”
Her face paled and her posture stiffened, but she didn’t glance away. “It certainly would, and the center would be thrilled to receive such a large donation, but it won’t be coming from me. At least not by way of Dr. Walker’s guilt money.”
“I know you hate him, but he is your biological father. You are entitled to a share of his estate. He wants to see that you get what you deserve.”
“Wha
t I deserve?” Her voice got louder and her drawl thickened. “Do I deserve to be publicly humiliated just so your client can cover his own ass?”
“Walker doesn’t deny making mistakes in the past—huge mistakes. But he can’t make amends without your cooperation.”
“This isn’t about him making amends. It’s about ensuring his stellar public image remains untarnished by the truth.”
Brinks lifted his head from his paws and perked his ears before standing up. With an indignant groan, he left the kitchen. Apparently their argument was disturbing the dog’s nap.
Not wanting this conversation to escalate into another shouting match, he lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “Have you ever considered that he’s trying to do now what he couldn’t do then? When you were born, he was just starting his career. He was struggling. Perhaps now that he’s financially secure, he wants to give you what he couldn’t before.”
“Bull. If he honestly wanted to compensate me for all those years of neglect, he wouldn’t have attached such ridiculous strings to the money.”
“I’m not saying the man’s a saint, but Patty has now forced him to handle matters publicly. If the money is transferred silently, she can still threaten exposure. Wouldn’t you prefer this secret be brought to light under Walker’s control rather than Patty’s?”
“I’d prefer for this matter to disappear altogether.”
“Shayna, no matter what happened in the past, you are his daughter. The money is your birthright. Does it really matter what his motives are?”
“Yes, it matters. If he’s looking for absolution, I can’t give him that. Ever.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her stance becoming defensive and distrustful.
Kyle gripped the counter’s edge behind him to keep from reaching out and cradling her against his chest. As much as he hated to admit it, the kindest thing he could do for her right now was drop the whole load of crap at once, like a bad-news bomb. The damage would be quick and severe, but once the wounds healed, she’d be able to deal with everything and move on.
