Smooth-Talking the Hometown Girl Read online

  “Didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.”

  Christy jumped, startled by Kyle’s deep voice from directly behind her. She turned to find him smiling down at her. “I sprung a leak.”

  “So it seems,” he said, gazing at her chest. She looked down, too, and gasped. There were two wet spots on her T-shirt, in the most obvious of places and pointing straight up at Kyle. She brought the edges of her sweater together quickly, covering up.

  Kyle rubbed his nose to cover his smile, but Christy saw it. A hot flush of heat rose to her face. “I meant my kitchen sink is leaking. I wasn’t sure the store would be open.”

  “Today’s the first day, since...well, since Flo shut it down after Pop died.”

  “I’m glad you decided to open.”

  He smiled warmly. “Actually you helped me make that decision yesterday.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah, you reminded me how long this place has been around. Pop loved this store. He’d want it to stay open. I have some time before I have to make my final decision. Flo is willing to work full time, and I’ll be here helping out, too. I don’t want to sell, but I have commitments back in Boston. I’ll have to go back to work eventually.”

  Pop had shared a bit about Kyle’s great success with Christy. He’d made a killing in the stock market just a few years out of college, left the company he’d worked for, and began his own firm. His business was based on the East Coast. “Well, if I helped at all, I’m glad.”

  “You did. So, what can I help you with?”

  She held up the washer she’d chosen. “Do you think this will do? It looks just like the one on the pipe now.”

  “Depends on where the leak is....”

  Christy described the problem to him the best she could. He nodded. “Sounds like the elbow joint. I’m afraid a washer won’t do. You’ll need to replace the pipe.”

  “Oh,” she said, deflated. “Well, then, I suppose I’d better get at it. Could you show me which one I’ll need?”

  “You plan on fixing the pipe yourself? I’m impressed. I guess you really are handy in the kitchen.”

  “I’m afraid my talents aren’t that widespread. But, how hard could it be? A twist here, a turn there.”

  Kyle frowned, shaking his head. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  “No, your father—”

  “Ah, Pop helped with the plumbing.” He gave her a knowing nod.

  “Well,” she said, “yes, he did a few times. But it didn’t look that hard when he worked on it. I’ll manage. Just point out the pipe I’ll need.”

  “Just a sec,” he said, leaving her standing there.

  Two minutes later, he returned, calling out to Flo over the shelves. “Close up early today, Flo. Thanks for the help. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  He grabbed a steel pipe that resembled a u-turn, took hold of Christy’s arm, and with a wink said, “Come on neighbor. Time to see what’s wrong with your plumbing.”

  Chapter Two

  Kyle Warren hardly looked the man-about-town, the powerful financier, and the charming playboy from underneath Christy’s sink. With his head deep in the recesses of her kitchen cabinet, all she could see was a terrifically lean torso, twisting with each grunt he made from down under, leading to a narrow waist and long muscular legs. He took up half the length of her kitchen sprawled out like that.

  “That should do it,” he said and lifted his head out, coming to a sitting position on her floor.

  She handed him a soda. “It’s done already?”

  “It’s not hard to do, if everything fits.” He took the soda and sipped, then lifted the can in a salute. “Thanks. I like a woman who caters to a man’s needs.” He arched both brows.

  She laughed. “Not on your life, Kyle Warren.”

  “Hey, I think I’m offended,” he said with a smile before standing up.

  Christy had to admit, the man had charm. He positively oozed it. He took another sip of his soda, eyeing her from over the top of the can. He had a way about him that made her jittery and flustered. It had been no different in high school. Except then, she’d always made sure to steer clear.

  She realized she’d spent more time with him in the last two days than she had her entire senior year. And, he was still coming over for dinner tonight.

  “Seriously, Kyle. Thank you. I don’t think I would have had an easy time with the plumbing. You know what you’re doing, where I wouldn’t have had a clue. But back at the store, I let it slip about your dad. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to come over and help out just because Pop used to.”

  He sipped his soda again, his eyes fixed on hers. “You didn’t twist my arm, Christy. I came over because I wanted to help you. It was my pleasure,” he said, enunciating for emphasis.

  His teasing manner had a way of rubbing off. And she couldn’t keep the incredulous note from her voice. “You’re a Good Samaritan?”

  He laughed. “Today, I am.” Then in a more serious tone, he offered, “I do have an image to live down. One I’m not too proud of, but let’s not dwell on the past. I like to look to the future...the immediate future. What’s for dinner?”

  Christy folded her arms across her middle. “It’s a surprise. I can’t tell. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  * * * * *

  “Mmm. This is really good. What’s it called again?” Kyle asked, for the third time tonight.

  Christy was overjoyed he liked her newest creation. He’d finished half his meal, before she had taken her second bite. But maybe that was because she’d been overly nervous about this dinner and wanted everything to be just right. Pleasing her guests rated high on her priority list, and she prayed her nerves had more to do with the dish on the table than the hunk seated in her dining room.

  He’d come over right on time, wielding a bottle of wine and looking terrific in a pair of khaki trousers and black knit shirt. Christy deliberately hadn’t fussed over her attire. She didn’t want Kyle getting the wrong idea, getting any idea. She wore jeans and a simple short-sleeved sweater. “It’s peppered chutney roast.”

  “Right,” he said, then forked another bite in his mouth. “And you say it’s healthy eating.”

  “I don’t just say so, I know so. I’ve done my research. There’s exactly six grams of fat in each serving. It’s low in cholesterol and calories. Add the grilled vegetables and a raspberry vinaigrette salad and voilà, the meal is complete. ”

  “Still seems hard to believe. Usually anything that tastes this good isn’t good for you.”

  “I know. I’ve been experimenting with food for years, coming up with recipes that promote good health as well as good taste. It’s not always easy to do. I spend a lot of time trying to reduce the fat content without eliminating the flavor.”

  “Well, I think in this case, you’ve succeeded. It’s delicious.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What’s for dessert?” Kyle asked with boyish eagerness.

  “Dessert? Well, since all the trouble with the leaky pipe this afternoon, I couldn’t do anything really elaborate. I made a cherry cobbler.”

  Kyle rubbed his stomach and made a growling sound. “I love cherry cobbler.”

  “I hoped you would. It was your father’s favorite. I used to bake him one the first of every month.”

  Kyle set his napkin aside and leaned in. He shot her a disarming look. “So, tell me, what does a man have to do to garner such treatment from you?”

  She tapped her fingers against the table, pondered his question, and tried to ignore the rapid beats of her heart. She wouldn’t rise to the bait. She knew what he was asking. “You have to be dear and sweet and...”

  “And?”

  Christy gave him a wicked smile and tossed her hair over one shoulder. “And you have to be at least seventy years old.”

  Kyle fell back in his seat and laughed. And Christy wished the evening would come to an end quickly. She was beginning to like Kyle Warren a li
ttle too much, and that wasn’t a wise move. Years ago, right after her broken engagement, she’d sworn off all of the Kyles in the world.

  He was too polished, too sure of himself, too darn appealing. Men like Kyle never changed. In high school, he’d had a different girlfriend every week and had left a string of broken hearts in his wake.

  Christy had learned a hard lesson early on. Not once, but twice. According to the old adage, that made her a fool. Well, she’d certainly felt the fool before. Never again.

  So the sooner Kyle Warren settled his father’s estate and went back to Boston, the better off she’d be.

  She stood up and began clearing the dishes. Kyle helped, too. They worked companionably in the kitchen, making small talk. Once done, Christy measured coffee for the automatic coffeemaker. Kyle wandered back into the dining area.

  After the coffee was ready, Christy brought the cherry cobbler out, setting it down on the dining room table. She found Kyle perusing a set of papers she’d left out on top of the burled wood sideboard server.

  He looked up when she approached. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw these lying around.”

  Well, she did mind. She hadn’t shared this information with too many people yet. And even though Kyle was now her neighbor, she still didn’t consider him a close friend, although, it did seem fitting somehow that he’d found those particular papers.

  She carefully took the crinkled papers from his hand and glanced down at them. “They’re my notes and research.”

  “And recipes?”

  “Yes, my recipes, too.”

  “Wow, there are quite a few in there. You could write a book.”

  “I am...writing a book.”

  His brows arched, and he smiled. “Good for you.”

  She half-smiled back. Why did Kyle have this effect on her? His slightest praise made her heart flutter. She straightened the papers and aligned them carefully back on the sideboard, deciding to deal with them later. “Coffee’s ready.” She took her seat.

  Kyle followed her lead and sat down, too, but she felt his gaze on her. She made herself busy by cutting the cobbler and pouring the coffee.

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “About what?” she asked, handing him his plate of cobbler.

  “The book. I’m curious.”

  She took a sip of coffee and paused for a moment, sighing inwardly. Kyle had a right to know what she was doing. “The Way to a Man’s Heart is a book about staying heart healthy while enjoying the foods you eat. It’s about clean living and good food. Your father was instrumental in my writing it. I plan on dedicating the book to him.”

  Kyle took a sharp breath and appeared momentarily taken aback. “I didn’t know. He never said anything about it.”

  Tears stung Christy’s eyes and painful emotion strangled in her throat. To think of the irony—John Warren had died from a heart attack—the very thing Christy’s book would help prevent. “He didn’t know. I mean to say, he knew I was formulating recipes. Often times, he’d be the one to test them out, but I didn’t plan to actually compile all of my ideas into book form. I put the recipes to use in my catering business. But Pop kept on encouraging me, and then...one day, I just decided to go for it.”

  Kyle had sympathy in his eyes when he asked, “And when exactly was that?”

  Christy put her head down and took a breath, then returned her gaze to his. “The day he died.”

  “Ah, Christy.” He pinched his nose, and she had the distinct feeling his eyes were misting up, too. But he straightened abruptly and put deep sincerity in his words. “I’m sure that’s the kindest compliment Pop has ever received. I don’t know what to say. Except, do it.”

  “I will.”

  “He’d be proud of you, Christy. I know that.” He paused and then began again, “So, you’re logging the recipes all into a computer, getting them formatted into a book?

  “Uh, no. Not yet. My computer crashed a few months ago and I haven’t had it fixed yet. The truth is I’m not fond of technology. I know it’s archaic of me, but I’m more the mad scientist type, scribbling notes on paper and writing my research down longhand.”

  His dark brows lifted. If she’d told him she’d come from a distant planet, he couldn’t have looked more shocked. “You don’t have this logged into a computer?”

  “No.”

  Kyle rubbed a hand over his jaw. He took a second to choose careful words, “Christy, you can’t mean that all your work is on paper? You’ve got stains on the pages, and some of this is barely legible.”

  “I can read it,” she said in her own defense.

  “That’s not the point. What if there was a fire or your house got broken into or the dog got hold of them?”

  With a chuckle, she reminded him, “I don’t have a dog.”

  The levity was lost on him. He persisted. “That’s not the point. You must have put hundreds of hours into this. I’d hate to see you lose it by some weird fluke. Listen, I have an idea. Why not use Pop’s computer? I got him one last year to Skype with me. It’s brand new, just sitting in the house. I don’t think he touched it much after it was installed other than to talk with me. You can start tomorrow night. You’ve got to get these recipes on a CD or flash drive.”

  Christy didn’t want this complication in her life yet she had to admit that Kyle was right. She’d been putting off getting her computer fixed because she liked living small- town life. She actually walked to the bank when she had to make a deposit and sent real letters and birthday cards to her friends, instead of using online sources. She’d resisted catching up with technology. She considered herself a chef, one with strong knowledge in nutrition. She was creative, an artist, in a sense. She wondered if the Iron Chefs of the world knew much about inputting data? Would Bobby Flay trade in his barbecue grill for a laptop? She was sure to lose this argument with Kyle and truthfully, the whole idea flustered her. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “It’s a piece of cake. Whatever you don’t understand, I’ll help you with.”

  “It sounds time-consuming. I’m busy as it is, with my catering jobs, then with testing my recipes. I don’t know if I’ll find the time.”

  “Christy,” he said sternly, “you have to find the time. Believe me, organizing all your data on a hard drive will make your life so much easier. Once you get the hang of it.”

  She hesitated and then admitted, “I know you’re right. I’ve been putting it off.”

  “Then come over tomorrow night. We’ll get started.”

  Christy’s mind spun in different directions. On the one hand, she knew eventually the job would have to get done. But if she accepted his help, she’d be spending a good deal of time with him. He was knowledgeable and willing. Those were very appealing elements. When she thought about it rationally, she truly couldn’t afford to turn it down. “What time?”

  “Come at six. I’ll throw a couple of burgers on and you can check out my culinary talents.”

  “All right,” she agreed, vowing to keep this strictly business. She’d been caught in a weak moment and agreed to his help, but there was no need to make this more than it was. “I’ll bring dessert.”

  “Great. It’s a date.”

  She nodded numbly and showed him to the door. “Goodnight, Kyle,” she murmured.

  And it definitely was not a date.

  * * * * *

  Kyle dribbled a basketball in the boy’s gymnasium at Bentley High School, listening as the ball’s bounce echoed against the surrounding walls. He turned, ran toward the backboard and, with a leap, took a shot. The ball spiraled down the basket to land by Kyle’s feet.

  “Not bad, for an old-timer,” Jim Patterson bellowed, from the far side of the gym.

  “Speak for yourself, Patterson,” Kyle called back.

  “I was speaking for both of us, actually,” Jim said, making his way across the court. He put out his hand when he reached Kyle. “How’re you doing?”

  “I’m good,” he re
plied, shaking his friend’s hand. Jim Patterson hadn’t changed much. Even wearing Bentley High’s blue and gold team colors, he had the look of a man more interested in the manner in which molecules separate than in producing a winning basketball team. “And you?”

  “Struggling with the team. Can you believe I’ve been coach here for two years?”

  “You mentioned it to me at Pop’s memorial service. It’s hard to believe the science nerd can’t pull the team together. Doesn’t all that physics help out? You know, scientific calculations, computer analysis? Just how many times can the ball go into the basket?”

  Jim laughed. “You know where my heart lies, old friend.”

  “Yeah, but remember we won the state championships our senior year. And you had something to do with it.”

  “Maybe, but I wasn’t the one scoring twenty-six points against our opponent.” He said with a big smile. “We did come back heroes, though, didn’t we? Small town jocks make the big time. It was the first time Dorothy Campbell would take me seriously.”

  Kyle remembered Jim’s crush on Dorothy. When she finally gave Jim the time of day, the man glowed like a nuclear reactor for days. “So how are the Bentley Broncos?”

  “The rookies are a challenge, but we’ve got a good team. We have a shot at the state championships this year.”

  Kyle picked up the ball and made another shot. “Is that why you wanted to see me?”

  “Yeah, big guy. I needed some advice from Bentley High’s all-star forward.”

  They strode to the wooden bleachers, newly varnished, Kyle assumed. They had a shine and polish he hadn’t remembered in the early days. Both took a seat on the bottom bleacher. Kyle spread his legs out and dribbled the ball between them. “What can I do?”

  “Well, I know you’re here only temporarily, but I could use an assistant coach. The boys have promise, but I have only a short time to whip them into shape. I’d let you work with the team, while I handled the rookies.”