Smooth-Talking the Hometown Girl Read online

“He wasn’t the type to shoot off his mouth. He did those deeds out of the goodness in his heart. He never wanted acclaim or glory. He loved this town and the people in it.”

  “I’m beginning to see just how much. Well, that explains the books. I’m glad you enlightened me.”

  “Have you thought about what to do with the store yet, or the house?”

  “No. I still haven’t made a decision. I’ll let you know first thing, when I do.”

  She patted his arm warmly. “I know you’ll make the right decision. Whatever it is, I’ll back you up.”

  “Thanks, Flo. That means a lot.”

  Kyle had some thinking to do. He strode out of the store and set out on foot. He walked through the town briskly, like a man on a mission. He hadn’t realized where he’d been heading until he stopped abruptly and glanced at Christy’s house. There was a distinct, delicious smell wafting out from her place. Kyle savored the aroma, trying to figure out what that wonderful smell could possibly be.

  Without hesitation, he hiked up her steps and knocked on her door.

  * * * * *

  Christy sat with a satisfied look on her face as Kyle took another bite of her dreamy concoction. “What’s this stuff called again?”

  “Chicken breast en croute. It’s a method of cooking pâté or meat encased in a pastry. I’ve developed what I believe to be a satisfactory low-fat version.”

  Kyle nodded with a mouthful, savoring the blending of flavors, mushrooms and herbs and chicken in a light sauce enclosed in the fluffiest pastry. “Oh, it’s more than satisfactory, Christy. I got a whiff of it as I walked up the street. It sort of beckoned. I’d say delicious is a better description.”

  “I’m glad. I’ve been working on this for over a week, trying to keep the taste right while taking out the bad elements.”

  “Hard to believe this is good for you.”

  She granted him a dynamite smile. “Yes, I know. But trust me, it’s low in fat, and healthy, too.”

  She handed him another plate filled with crackers and a small bowl of a smooth creamy creation. “Care to try some of my asparagus guacamole?”

  It looked good, but his stomach could only stretch so far. “Maybe just a bite. I’ve already had lunch.” He dipped a cracker in and crunched it in his mouth. The combination of flavors was remarkable and distinct. “This is really good. You can use me any time as a taste tester.”

  She laughed. “Thanks. I’m pleased with the results myself.”

  Kyle looked at her beaming face. She really loved her work. There was no concealing the pure joy she exuded while in her small kitchen, dreaming up her next new healthy recipe. Kyle had a startling image of Christy, working in a custom-made kitchen, complete with every known culinary gadget ever invented, smiling and happy, enjoying fixing him a late-night supper.

  In a home he built especially for her.

  And after their meal, he’d make insane, wild love to her.

  Another image popped into his head, of Christy making love to him in the parlor of his home just days ago. He looked at her now, fidgeting around the kitchen, and remembered her hot and passionate under him, making him crazy with desire. A vision of loveliness with her pale blonde hair spread out on the cushions and her tan sleek body ready for him, but it was the desire he witnessed in her soft blue eyes that night that pounded into his skull now. He never thought he’d see that particular look on Christy Evans’ face—at least not for him. She’d never given him a reason to believe she wanted him in that way.

  And now that he’d had her in his arms and in his bed, he wanted her all over again, and only her—as if he’d never wanted any other female in his life.

  “Kyle?”

  “Yeah,” he said, coming out of his fantasy.

  “You said when you arrived, you had something you wanted to speak to me about. I had the feeling it was about your dad.”

  “It was,” he answered, leaning back in the kitchen chair, stretching out his legs. “I, uh, found something out today. I wondered if you knew.”

  “Knew what?” she asked, taking a seat to face him. Her eyes met his with concern.

  “Well, I’d been going over the books and noticed Pop’s numbers were off. When I asked Flo, she said he’d been donating quite a bit of his inventory to his customers whenever they had a hardship.”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes giving nothing away.

  “Did you know?”

  “Not really. But it doesn’t surprise me. He was a generous man, but Pop wasn’t one to boast. If something needed doing, he’d do it without making a big deal about it. That was his way.”

  Kyle ran both hands in his hair. “It makes it hard for me to even think about selling Warren’s. I feel as though I’d be selling him out. That store was so much an extension of himself.” He drew in a deep breath.

  Christy paused, her gaze darting around the kitchen before fixing on him. “Are you leaving soon?”

  Had he heard trepidation in her voice?

  Kyle couldn’t fathom leaving Christy just yet. Not when so many things were unsettled between them. Of course, in her mind, that wasn’t the case. But Kyle set out to change her mind about him. To see if what they had started on that sofa a few days ago was true and real.

  “No, I can’t. There’s too much unsettled.”

  His gaze fixed on hers and for once, she didn’t turn away, didn’t bring up her walls of defense. Those baby blues of hers softened. “This can’t be easy on you.”

  “It’s not, but having you to talk to really helps.”

  “I guess,” she began, hesitating a moment, “I guess...we’re finally becoming friends.”

  Kyle smiled. If she only knew. He was way beyond wanting her friendship now. He wanted her love.

  Chapter Seven

  Christy sat at the computer in Kyle’s den and stared at the screen. Her mind had gone numb. She glanced at her watch. It was only eight o’clock. She’d been here an hour, so why did it feel like a lifetime? She hadn’t changed her routine for the past three nights. She came over each night at seven to work and usually stayed until ten or so.

  Kyle would greet her cordially with a warm hello then leave her to her own devices. He never interrupted or bothered her. He had been true to his word and stayed out of her way. And other than popping his head in to offer a cup of coffee, which she gladly accepted, he never disturbed her. So why now, did his lack of attention bother her so much?

  She missed him.

  That was the only reason she could conjure up as to why she sat there like a mummy, stiff and uninspired, watching the waves roll by on the computer’s ocean scene screen-saver. She knew he was in the other room, doing something. Often times, she’d hear him puttering around the house or catch him swearing while he attempted to ease up a tight window or repair an un-fixable gadget. At times, she’d hear soft music playing in the background. How many times had she wanted to jump up and see what he was doing? And how many times had she talked herself out of it?

  “Christy,” she admonished, “get back to work. You’ve never had this much trouble concentrating before.”

  Kyle popped his head in. “You say something, Christy?”

  “Uh, no. Just reading my notes,” she fibbed while turning around. Kyle had changed from his casual clothes. Now he wore a pair of brown pleated trousers and a beige silk shirt. His hair was neatly combed, and she noticed he’d shaved since he’d greeted her earlier.

  “Just wanted you to know, I’m going out. Please stay and work. I won’t be home too late.”

  “No, I think I’d better get going.” She started to rise.

  He walked the distance of the room coming close enough so she could smell his sexy after-shave. “Don’t stop. Stay and continue. When you get tired, just let yourself out and lock up.”

  She slumped back down on the chair. Maybe with him gone, she’d be able to get some work done instead of fantasizing about him. “Well, all right. I’ll stay for a while longer.”

 
“Okay,” he said with a smile. “Well, if you’re not here when I get back, good night.”

  She shot him a thin-lipped smile. “Night,” she said casually turning back to her work. When she heard the front door close, she muttered. “Damn it!” Now she wouldn’t get a lick of work done, wondering where he was going and whom he would be seeing.

  But after long minutes of self-torment, Christy did finally manage to get some of her recipes logged into the computer. She glanced at her watch amazed to find it was almost ten o’clock. She began shifting through her papers, straightening them, ready to shut down the computer.

  Voices coming through the front door gave her a start. She rose and went to the den’s doorway to listen. There was no mistaking a female’s voice chuckling at something Kyle had said.

  And that female voice sounded all too familiar. Veronica Kendall.

  Christy ran her hands down her face. “Oh no,” she whispered. “He brought her back here.”

  Humiliation washed over her like black rain. She had to get out of here. Kyle probably thought she’d be long gone by now. Christy poised herself, setting her shoulders straight. She’d simply smile at both of them, thank Kyle for the use of the computer, and leave.

  But could she pull it off?

  She didn’t have much choice. She couldn’t very well stay here while Kyle, the scoundrel, seduced Veronica.

  “I’m back, Christy,” she heard Kyle call out. Her eyes widened in horror. “Are you still here?”

  “Y-Yes, but I’m just leaving,” she managed after clearing her throat. She rummaged through her purse.

  Kyle stuck his head in the door, catching her brushing through her hair. She stood with her brush in midair. “Hello,” she said lamely.

  “Do you have a minute? There’s something I’d like to share with you.”

  “W-With me?”

  “Yes. I’d really like you to hear this.”

  Christy stood frozen on the spot, dumbfounded. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. Kyle gently took the brush from her hand, set it down, and then closed his hand over hers. “Come on.”

  Christy allowed him to bring her, hand in hand, into the parlor. She swallowed hard noting Veronica, dressed in a skimpy black lace dress, sitting on the sofa. The sofa.

  Veronica’s gaze fastened first on Kyle’s hand holding hers, and then she lifted her eyes in greeting. “Hello, Christy.”

  “Veronica.”

  “Kyle told me how hard you’ve been working on your book. Good luck with it. You’re very talented.”

  Kyle had spoken to Veronica about her? Christy didn’t know what to make of that bit of news. “Thank you.”

  “I guess you’re spending quite a bit of time here,” she hinted, “working.”

  Kyle spoke up then. “Not as much as I’d like.”

  Veronica arched one perfectly sculptured eyebrow, and Christy blushed. She couldn’t believe what Kyle had just insinuated.

  “Did Kyle tell you the wonderful news?”

  “No,” he said, interrupting Veronica, “not yet. Sit down, Christy.” He squeezed her hand slightly.

  Christy pulled her hand from his and took a seat in the winged back chair, leaving Kyle no choice but to sit on the sofa next to Veronica.

  “Well,” he began, “it seems that Pop has been helping the school out quite a bit lately. Veronica, being the head of the physical education department, has informed me that Pop has earned his name on a plaque in the sports hall at Bentley. Veronica showed it to me tonight. Here,” he said lifting a walnut stained plaque off the coffee table, “what do you think?”

  Christy’s mind muddled. This wasn’t what she had expected at all. Kyle held the plaque, turning it in her direction, so she could read the gold-lettered inscription. She was sure it was a lovely saying, but Christy couldn’t comprehend anything other than she’d been gravely wrong about Kyle’s intentions. “Is this the reason you stopped by the other morning? The reason for the note?”

  Veronica nodded. “Yes, we’d decided Kyle should see the plaque first, before we placed it up on the wall.”

  “I see.”

  With enthusiasm, Veronica added, “Pop’s been donating money for the team uniforms and equipment for quite some time. Last year, the girls couldn’t quite raise the cash they needed for their new cheerleading uniforms. When Pop got wind of it, he put in the rest of the money. Then he approached me about setting up a sports scholarship fund at Bentley. Well, unfortunately, he passed on before we could finalize the details.”

  Kyle leaned forward. “When I got back in town, Veronica contacted me about the idea. Apparently, Pop was really excited about starting the scholarship and well, Veronica and the entire PTA want to name the scholarship after him. They’ll call it the John ‘Pop’ Warren Sports Scholarship.

  “Pop had already agreed to putting up the first five thousand dollars. I plan on matching that. And my company will be the lead sponsor of the scholarship. What do you think, Christy?”

  Christy stared first at Kyle, then at Veronica, sitting on the sofa across from her. Her vivid imagination had run rampant earlier, thinking the worst of Kyle, and here he was looking at her in earnest, asking her opinion, wanting to share this part of his life with her. Guilt, raw and deep, slashed through her.

  She recalled all those terrible things she’d said to him the other night. She accused him bitterly of setting her up, casting her as his second choice, and then deliberately seducing her. She’d even told him how ashamed Pop would have been of him. She sucked in a sharp breath. How could she have been so wrong? Now she was the one ashamed, thinking of how hurt Kyle must have felt. Once, she’d been wrongly accused, and it had taken her years to get over it.

  “Christy?”

  She came out of her stupor momentarily. “It’s wonderful. Pop deserves all this acclaim. I’m behind the idea one-hundred percent.”

  With that pronouncement, Christy stood and walked to the door, dragging her heavy heart along. Before tears pooled in her eyes, she thought she’d better leave. This was a time for merriment and celebration. “I’ll leave you two to the details. Veronica, this is truly a wonderful gesture. And, Kyle, I know how incredibly proud you must feel right now.”

  Kyle stood, his dark gaze trained on her. “I was hoping you’d stay and help us work out the details.”

  “You don’t need me,” she said with a small smile. “You two can work it out.”

  “If you’re sure,” Veronica said, glancing in Kyle’s direction. She looked as though she might devour him and, this time, Christy couldn’t manage any animosity. All she felt was overwhelming guilt.

  “I’m sure. It’s late, and I have an early call in the morning. I’ll talk to you both later on. Good night.”

  She felt Kyle’s eyes on her back as she closed the door.

  * * * * *

  Christy tossed and turned in her bed unable to get any sleep. She’d already shed enough tears in the past three weeks to keep her entire garden fertile all spring. Crying wouldn’t help tonight. Nothing would. She’d never felt so incredibly disappointed in herself before. Kyle Warren may not be a saint, but she had accused him unfairly the other night, and the haunting memory of her harsh words denied her any peace tonight.

  And Kyle. He hadn’t exactly been honest with her. Why hadn’t he simply explained to her when he saw Veronica’s note—knowing how betrayed Christy had felt—what the woman really wanted from him. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Kyle hadn’t bothered explaining anything—instead he’d allowed her to make all the wrong assumptions. Judging by his well-known reputation with the opposite sex, how could she not have made those assumptions?

  Did Kyle expect blind trust?

  Christy couldn’t and wouldn’t be that naive again. She’d always be on her guard when in a serious relationship.

  Christy tossed onto her left side in agitation. Her nightgown bunched up around her legs, twisting as she tossed again, this time to her right side.
/>
  “Oh, what’s the use?”

  She leaned over to turn on her bedside lamp. Seventy-five watts sure seemed bright in the middle the night. Christy squinted until her eyes finally adjusted.

  She thought about going into the kitchen to do some baking, but somehow she knew that tonight her usual balm wouldn’t quite do the trick. Nor would sticking her nose in a research book help untangle her jangled nerves.

  No. The only way she’d get any sleep tonight is if she were to confront Kyle. She owed him an apology, but he, too, owed her something...maybe not an apology, but at least an explanation.

  She glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was one-thirty in the morning. She’d been tossing for two hours. If she went back to bed, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She had to get this off her chest.

  “Well, to hell with propriety, Christy! I’m not going to get a lick of sleep until I speak with Kyle.”

  After dressing in jeans and a pink knit sweater and then running a comb in her long hair, she marched to Kyle’s door.

  She knocked sharply, the sound echoing in the still of the night. She waited and waited, then knocked again, calling Kyle’s name.

  When he finally came to the door, tousled and bare-chested and wearing a pair of dark-blue boxers, Christy’s throat constricted.

  The immediate concern on his face made her feel foolish at her impulsiveness. “Is everything okay? Did something frighten you?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” She shrugged impishly. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He eyed her with a sleep-drugged gaze. Scratching his head, he asked, “Do you want to come in?”

  She almost lost her nerve but then she caught a whiff of Veronica’s perfume lingering in the air. “Are you alone?”

  Anger flashed on his face, bringing him fully awake. He glared at her. Then in one swift move he grabbed her hand and tugged her inside. “Yes, damn it. I’m alone. I make it a habit of only sleeping with one woman at a time. Not that you’d believe me. Maybe you’d like to inspect the house for yourself. Oh, and don’t forget to check the closets and look under the beds.”