Ty glanced over his shoulder and winked. “With a little help from Mrs. Butterworth.”
“Pancakes?” She groaned with pleasure. “You’re really pulling out all the stops.”
To her surprise, he looked embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. Just breakfast. Do you want juice or coffee?”
“Coffee, please.” Just when she thought she had him pegged—confident rich boy posing as cocky everyman—he switched things around on her.
“Here you go.” He held a steaming mug in front of her, smiling as she took it. “You look lovely this morning,” he added and leaned forward for a quick kiss.
“Liar.”
He rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms across his bare chest as he examined her. “It’s true. You don’t need makeup. You’re a natural beauty.”
Kendall tried to stifle a disbelieving cough. The only thing natural on her were her roots. And only until tomorrow’s monthly appointment for highlights. “Sorry, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“I’m happy to give one anyway. More than one, if you’re lucky. But first let’s eat.” He leaned forward again and she expected another kiss but he stopped an inch from her nose. “You have freckles.” His grin was ear to ear.
She grimaced and covered her nose with her fingers. “The bane of my existence. My foundation usually covers them.”
“Aww, Princess,” he crooned, peeling her hand away from her face, “you’re hiding all the good stuff.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and turned back toward the stove. “Have a seat. I’ll get these cakes on the table.”
Kendall set her mug on the butcher-block table that sat in front of a large window and sank into a chair. She pulled at the corners of her mouth, trying to wipe off the stupid smile she knew gave her emotions away.
She couldn’t quite block out the words he’d whispered to her last night. Being with Ty might feel right, but only right now. She had to keep her feelings in check, especially the ones that made her want to spend every morning until eternity in this warm, bright kitchen with the gorgeous man making her breakfast.
She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth when Ty brought the food to the table, willing herself to get a grip. He placed a plate in front of her. Kendall dropped her gaze to the colorful arrangement and stopped trying to hide her grin.
Two fluffy round pancakes sat in the middle of the plate, surrounded by a ring of cut strawberry wedges that looked like rays of the sun. Dark splotches of maple syrup sank into the pancakes, forming two eyes and a wide smile. “It’s a work of art.”
Ty sat down across from her, his own plate a carbon copy of hers. “This is how Jenny’s mom always made them. I thought it was the best part.”
Kendall stabbed a strawberry with her fork. “I didn’t think I could like pancakes more than I already did. But this is something else.” She poured a scant amount of syrup across her plate. “It sounds like Jenny’s mom took care of more than just the house.”
Ty scooped up a large bite. “She was housekeeper, cook, part-time nanny. Mrs. Castelli kept the whole show running.”
“And your mother?”
He finished chewing. “Couldn’t be bothered with her children. She had too many civic responsibilities. Our job was to stay out of trouble and out of her way.”
They ate in silence for several minutes. Finally, Kendall said, “I know you don’t want to talk about GoldStar.”
“So is it too much to hope you won’t bring it up again?”
Kendall set her mouth in a firm line. “It’s important.”
“Make me dinner.”
She tried to read his expression, but his eyes never left the stack of pancakes on his plate. “Excuse me?”
“Bribe me. Invite me over for a home-cooked meal and I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He paused, a forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth. “You can cook?”
“Of course I can cook. That doesn’t mean I’m going to cook for you.” She stabbed at her last strawberry. “We’re talking about business. This isn’t a game.”
“I know that better than anyone,” he said, his tone as serious as she’d ever heard. “But I’m more inclined to spill my guts when my stomach is full. One meal. How much is the story worth to you?”
She couldn’t remember the last time someone got under her skin the way Ty did. “Wednesday. Seven o’clock,” she said without inflection. “Bring a bottle of red.”
“Gladly. I’m curious. Would you have invited me over on your own?”
“If you hadn’t tried to blackmail me?” She gave him a smile as warm as the north wind. “I guess you’ll never know.” She didn’t want to admit how nervous the thought of having him over made her. At the same time, she couldn’t wait to see him again. She was quickly heading down a path that could lead to heartbreak if she wasn’t careful. She stood, carrying her plate and mug to the counter. “Thanks for breakfast. I do need to go. Should I call a cab?”
“Of course not,” he said, clearing his own plate and glass. “I’ll grab a shirt and drive you.” He flashed his charming smile. “Don’t be mad about dinner. I was hedging my bets.”
“You should stick to the sort of hedges that need trimmers,” she muttered under her breath.
“Nice comeback.” He stacked his plate on top of hers and turned to face her, staring for several long moments. “God, you are gorgeous when you’re mad. Add to that how good you look in the morning and it’s enough to bring a man to his knees.”
Despite herself, Kendall smiled at the compliment and didn’t resist when he leaned forward to kiss her, tasting the sweetness of the syrup on his mouth. It would be far too easy to stay. “I need to go,” she said.
Ty sighed as if he could read her thoughts and didn’t like them. “Be back in a minute,” he said and headed for the stairs.
Kendall stared at the kitchen’s hardwood floor until he returned. She refused to look around at his home, afraid she could fall in love with it if she let herself. Refused to think about falling in love with anything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There was plenty to keep Kendall busy until Wednesday night. Not so much that she didn’t think about seeing Ty again. But enough that she resisted the urge to sit and stare, cow-eyed, into space and daydream about his touch.
Thank heavens for small favors.
Late Monday morning, she drove down to Silver Creek to meet with Helen Bradley again. After an hour of sun, the morning had turned gray. As she neared the Bradley property, a light mist enveloped her car. She cracked the windows, both to prevent them from fogging and to enjoy the tangy scent of the wet forest surrounding her.
Only in the past month had she begun to appreciate the true beauty of the Rocky Mountain landscape. When she was far away from Ty and Denver, she would still treasure the gift he’d given her in opening her eyes to how special this place was. It was becoming more difficult to think about leaving both the place and the man, and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
Helen Bradley had spiced tea and homemade shortbread cookies waiting when Kendall arrived. They talked about the history of the valley, about the changes the fire had brought, and the changes that would come from development.
“I know I’ve got my neighbors up in arms,” Helen told her sadly. “But I want to provide for the future of my grandkids and great grandkids. This land has been in my family for generations, but until recently it hasn’t been worth much. When I was growing up, Silver Creek was a world away from Denver. But with how fast the city’s expanding, now we’re more like a distant suburb.”
“But it still feels like you’re deep in the mountains once you’re up here.”
“That’s why they want to develop it now,” Helen said with a nod. “My late husband and I couldn’t afford to send our kids to college, but they made us proud.” She fingered the thin gold band on her left h
and. Helen’s husband had passed away a decade ago, and the older woman often mentioned him. “We didn’t have much in the way of material things, but there was a lot of love in the house. Now I have a chance to make up for the things I couldn’t give them.”
Kendall cleared her throat as emotion clogged it. With a new perspective on her family, the impact of Helen’s words was deeper than she expected. She hit pause on the voice recorder that sat on the table between them. “It sounds like you gave your children your unconditional love, which is what’s most important.”
“Thank you for saying that. We certainly tried. But I want more for them, and the land company made me a lucrative offer. My lawyer’s looked at the contract. He says it meets my stipulations and the plan for the building site is a good one. Still there’s more value to this place than money.” She broke off, and then asked, “Am I doing the right thing?”
Kendall wrapped her fingers around the paper-thin skin on the woman’s hands. “You love this land as much as a person could. But you want to take care of your family. No one can fault you for that.”
“You’re a good girl,” Helen said with a watery smile. “I’m glad that TV station sent you down here to see me.”
Gently, Kendall squeezed the woman’s hands. “I am, too.”
As she drove back to the station, she sent up a silent plea that Ty would share what he knew about his father’s company. She’d made calls and interviewed people connected to both GoldStar and the holding company but couldn’t find a whiff of the scandal to which Ty had alluded. That didn’t mean it wasn’t there, and she wouldn’t stop until she was sure the Silver Creek community was in good hands with GoldStar.
When she’d brought her concerns to Liz, the news director had dismissed them, telling Kendall to focus on the human-interest side of the piece. But she needed to know the truth about the development company and not just because it was important to her story. She couldn’t stand the thought of Helen Bradley making the wrong decision about her land. It would break the heart of a woman about whom Kendall had quickly come to care.
Thoughts of the Silver Creek story and Helen Bradley were quickly overshadowed by her more irritating assignment when she returned to the station.
Liz knocked on the door to her office almost as soon as Kendall sat down in front of the computer.
“Mary told me you were here.”
Kendall didn’t bother to turn around. She tapped at a couple of keys, bringing up information onto the computer screen. “I need to get ready for tonight’s broadcast. What’s up?”
“The It’s Raining Men results are in. I thought you might be interested, but if you’re too busy . . .”
Kendall spun around in her chair in time to see Liz exiting into the hall. “Don’t go,” she called.
Liz leaned back into the room. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Bad news. No. Good news.”
“The good news is the viewers love you,” Liz said, her smile widening.
A whoosh of breath she didn’t know she’d been holding escaped Kendall’s lips. “Really? They like me?”
“Read my lips, Ken,” Liz said slowly, “they l-o-v-e you. According to the feedback we’ve received, you’re the best thing to hit Denver since Peyton Manning.”
“What’s the bad news?”
Liz hesitated only briefly before saying, with a laugh, “They also love Scott Jenkins.”
“You’re kidding.” Kendall choked. “The lounge lizard?”
“They liked your chemistry.”
“There was no chemistry.” Kendall’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me . . .”
Liz shook her head. “They love him in the same way a mother loves her ugly baby—because she can’t help it. They voted for Owen Dalton.”
Kendall breathed a sigh of relief. Owen Dalton was the CEO of a Fortune 500 software company headquartered in the Denver Tech Center, the technology hub on the south end of town. Kendall and her cameraman had met him for coffee one afternoon last week. He’d been nice, normal, and cute in a geeky sort of way. Kendall liked him immediately but hadn’t felt one ounce of spark or interest beyond platonic friendship.
“No kidding. Because you’re going on another date with the techie tomorrow.”
Kendall gripped the handles of her desk chair. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
Liz crossed her arms over her chest. “You know the rules, Kendall. Dates with two men and a second date and on-camera interview with the one the viewers picked as your best match.”
“I know. But I may have met someone.” She gulped.
Quicker than she could say breaking story, Liz scooted a chair in front of Kendall’s. “Tell me.”
Kendall tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s no big deal. Of course I’ll go on the date. I liked Owen.”
“Spill it, Clark.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. He knows it will end when I leave for New York.”
Liz stared at her for several moments. “You’re not going to talk about it.”
“It’s not important.”
“Wow.” Liz stood and pushed aside her chair. “You’re really serious about this guy, whoever he is. Be careful, Kendall. Remember your priorities.”
Kendall nodded but didn’t meet Liz’s gaze. “What kind of date is it?”
“Breakfast and the art museum.”
“Sounds nice. And don’t worry, Liz. I’m always careful.”
Her boss sighed, almost as if she’d hoped Kendall would put up more of a fight, and backed out of the room. “I’ll get the details about tomorrow and brief you after the five o’clock broadcast.”
Kendall pasted a smile on her face until Liz disappeared through the door. Then she spun back to the computer and stared blankly at the screen.
Of course she knew what her priorities were. Why had she hinted at a potential relationship to Liz? No matter how much her pulse raced when she thought of Ty, she’d finally found the courage to take a stand for the future she’d always wanted. She was about to achieve the dream she’d been working toward, and nothing was going to screw it up. Especially not her heart.
A few minutes before nine the next morning, she waited outside the Denver Art Museum for Owen Dalton. Steve was behind her with the camera. They’d have breakfast at the small restaurant attached to the museum and then take a tour of the latest exhibit.
She smiled when Owen came around the corner and walked toward her. No one would guess the unassuming man in the crisp button-down shirt, sweater vest, and olive green slacks ran one of the most powerful software companies west of the Mississippi. With his damp hair combed over from a severe side part and his wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a geeky computer programmer than a captain of industry.
He should be her perfect man—nice but also powerful. She knew he sat on several nonprofit boards and moved in the elite circles of Denver society. The fact that he didn’t set her heart racing should only endear him to her more. She didn’t need any more trouble in that area than she already had.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the camera’s green light blink on as Owen approached. He glanced nervously in Steve’s direction and she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Hi, Kendall.”
“Good morning, Owen.” She lifted the wireless microphone she held in her hand. “I know it’s a drag, but let me just get this mic in place and we’ll be all set.”
“No problem.” He held still as she pinned the small device to the V-neck of his sweater. “Honestly, I can’t believe I’m the guy the viewers picked for a second date.”
She glanced up to see him searching her face. Ever aware of the camera, she smiled again. “I’m glad they did. I had a lot of fun the first time we went out.”
“Me, too. I was hoping I wasn’t the only
one.”
“Definitely not. Should we head over to get some breakfast?”
“Okie-dokie. I’m starved.”
Okie-dokie. Owen said okie-dokie with a straight face. He was like Richie Cunningham from the 70s sitcom Happy Days all grown up. The perfect all-American guy. But she knew in her gut he wasn’t the guy for her.
They entered the cozy restaurant next to the art museum and chose a table in front of the window. Steve set up the camera nearby. To Kendall’s surprise, a woman seated at the table next to them leaned over and whispered, “I’m glad you didn’t end up with the sleazeball.”
Unfortunately, she whispered her comment directly into the microphone pinned to the lapel of Kendall’s lavender jacket. Just in case the producers didn’t edit the offhand remark out of the program, Kendall flashed a smile and whispered back, “I think the Channel 8 viewers made the right choice.” The woman nodded and returned to her own meal as the waitress came to stand by the table.
“I’ve heard the pancakes are good here,” Kendall said to Owen, then inwardly rolled her eyes. No thoughts of pancakes or the man who’d made them for her or she’d never make it through breakfast.
Owen shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of pancakes—too sweet. I’ll try the ham and cheese omelet and coffee, please.”
The waitress nodded at Kendall. “And for you?”
Not a fan of pancakes? The all-American man lost some big points there. Who didn’t like pancakes? It was akin to disliking apple pie. No, don’t go there, she told herself. Pancakes were not a big deal. “I’ll have the fruit and yogurt plate,” Kendall said. “Coffee, as well, please.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress smiled at the camera then disappeared back toward the kitchen.
Owen nodded. “I would have guessed you for a yogurt type.”
“You know me so well already,” Kendall said. But he didn’t know her at all.
“I have a knack for reading people.”
This wasn’t fair to either of them, and she didn’t want to imagine Ty watching the news tonight.
“You really are even prettier in person than on TV. I wanted to tell you that when we first met, but I was too nervous.” Owen’s smile was so sweet it made her teeth ache.
Kissing Mr. Right Page 17
