Package Deal (19 page)

Daunted by indecision, she
sat and stared at the phone. For the first time in years, she admitted she was scared. Jill had said it, but until now, Kelly hadn’t wanted to believe it. She was terrified of commitment, of being abandoned again. She tore Steve’s business card in two—for the second time—and tossed the pieces in the trash.

Chapter Twenty-One

S
teve stopped by the store for dog food then headed home. His day seemed to last forever. Things hadn’t gone well at the space center.
 
Tests had gone wrong and his lab tech had quit without notice. On top of that, he was frustrated because he hadn’t been able to get Kelly Pearson off his mind. He turned down the long, palm-lined drive leading through the thick undergrowth hiding his house from the road and skidded to a halt on the gravel drive.

Sitting behind the wheel, he stared into space, listening to Junker barking at the front door. He was hungry and tired, but he was more worried about Kelly. The movers would have arrived by now, and Kelly was probably ready to drop.

She’d gotten riled the night before last, and he’d lain low yesterday, giving her time to cool off. He just wanted to help her, but she would probably snap his head off if he showed up to help tonight. If she did, he would back off and give her some more space. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man could crowd. She was private and proud and damned stubborn about it, too. Nevertheless, he would make the offer, and maybe she’d let him help. If not, he was done. He
did
know when to quit.

He kept getting the feeling she was just about to open up, drop the barrier, and let him have a look inside. Just the other night, he’d seen her pain and anger and the reason behind it. He’d hoped the revelation might come through conversation rather than an eruption of temper, but even that hadn’t deterred him. Something about her nagged him, kept him going back, trying to help her, wanting to touch her, physically and emotionally. He couldn’t ever remember being so affected by a woman before.

He’d always been a patient man, except when it came to his marriage and his desire to become a parent, which had been one of his biggest mistakes. He might have won, fathered a child, and saved his marriage if he’d just been more understanding of his wife’s feelings. Water under the bridge, he told himself. Now he had a chance to practice his patience, and he had a hunch Kelly Pearson was worth it. He cared more for her than he was comfortable admitting. He recalled his vow not to date any more crazy women.

Kelly was no nutcase, but she was proud and had scars. Who didn’t? It was her independence and tenacity he respected.

When he wasn’t making a fool of himself and sticking his foot in his mouth, Kelly was a soft, caring, fair lady with the most beautiful, jet black hair and haunting blue eyes he’d ever seen. Just looking at her made him want her, made his manhood grow hard.

He fidgeted behind the wheel, his slacks suddenly too tight for comfort.

He liked her kid, too. Lacy triggered the part of him that had atrophied after his divorce, that part of him that yearned for a child of his own. Steve grabbed the bag of dog food, hopped out of the Jeep, and trotted into the house, giving Junker a loving rub on the head.

“Still talking to me, Junk?”

The big mutt—half golden retriever, half who knew what—looked up at him with unconditional love in his big, brown eyes. His long, pink tongue lolled from one side of his mouth. The dog let out a crisp bark.

“Okay, fella. I know you’re feeling neglected.”

Steve carried the bag through to the kitchen. “I’ve been busier than usual. I found a lady who’s caught my interest.” He winked at the dog. Junker panted, his gaze glued to his master, seeming to understand perfectly.

Steve pulled the bag of dog food from the brown sack and set it on the kitchen counter. Junker’s tail wagged with anticipation. He bounded over to Steve’s side and jumped up
,
 
his
front paws landing on either side of the bag, his tail wagging at full speed.

“Whoa, Junk, not so fast.” He had run out of dog food the night before. “I gave you a pile of leftovers last night. You ate better than I did.” Steve laughed, ruffling the dog’s ears with affection.

He checked the dog’s bowl, wrinkling his nose at the smell of stale leftovers—a scoop of mashed potatoes, half a T-bone, some green beans, and several torn-up pieces of stale bread.

“You’re a sick dog, Junker, passing up a steak dinner.” Steve shook his head with disbelief. “There are dogs that’d kill for this meal. You’re an old junkyard dog.”

Junker backed off the counter and slumped over his haunches in submission, his tail tucked between his legs.

“I’m frankly surprised, buddy. I would have thought you’d at least have chowed down on the steak. You’re a dog, for God’s sake.”

Steve tore open the bag of dry dog food. At the ripping sound, Junker’s head snapped to attention.

“You’ve become far too civilized.” Steve bent and retrieved last night’s dinner, scraped the contents into the garbage, and rinsed out the bowl. He filled it with dog food and added warm water until a thick gravy disguised the tasteless, hard chunks. “Have at it, boy.”

He crossed through the living room to the bedroom, and stripped off his shirt. The phone rang in the other room, and Steve hurried to pick up but didn’t make it in time. He checked his caller ID, recognized Gary’s number and called him right back.

“Hi, Gary. I just walked in. What’s up?”

“Hey, Steve. Wanna fish off the dock for a while?”

“I can’t. Sorry. I’ve got some plans tonight.”

“Well, maybe we could go to a movie later.”

“Can’t make the movies tonight either.
  
How about another night?”

“All right. Call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Night, Gary.” He dropped the receiver back into the cradle and hit the caller ID button to see if there were any other calls. Two blocked calls popped up, so he checked his voice mail—only a hang-up and one message.

Puzzled, he replayed the message again, and thought the voice sounded like Kelly’s. His hope swelled, and he listened several times until he was one hundred percent certain it was her.
Good sign.
Even if she hadn’t left a message, she had called, and that’s all he needed to know.

A flash of worry nagged him. Maybe Lacy was sick. He erased the message and reset the machine. Feeling more assured about his decision to go over, he hurried into the bathroom to shower. Maybe she wouldn’t kick him out after all.

Steve pulled the Jeep onto Cabana Court and spotted the eighteen-wheeler in front of the house. He parked across the street and followed two men carrying a sofa up the driveway.

When he entered the house, he gave Kelly the most disarming smile he could muster. “Looks like I’m just in time.”

She didn’t look surprised to see him. “I think you have rocks in your head, Steve McCarthy.” She grinned at him—all the apology he needed. Her eyes, blue and cloudless as a summer sky, held him spellbound. “I think you’re into abuse.”

Steve shrugged. “That depends on who’s delivering.”

Her face softened. “I’m sorry about the other night,” she said, breaking eye contact.

“Don’t be. I pushed you, and you reacted the same way I would have if somebody had shoved me against the wall.”

“No. I take my parenting seriously, and I’m not very good at taking orders. I’m stubborn, and I admit it.”

“I’ve noticed.”

As one of the movers came through the front door with the headboard to her bed, Steve took her by the arm and moved her out of the way. “I can be stubborn,
too, Kelly.”

The mover disappeared down the hall, and Steve turned her around to face him. He rubbed the back of her arms with his palms and studied her face, considering his next move. Then he let her go.

“Look, Pearson, I’d love to stand here and talk, but we have work to do. Let’s get busy and get rid of these guys, so we can have some real conversation.” He kissed her on the lips, silencing any protest, and then followed the movers into the bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Two

K
elly’s heartbeat fluttered against the wall of her chest. Steve’s kiss wasn’t a kiss of passion but comfortable familiarity, as if they’d been together for years. Ken had never kissed her that way—only during sex, in the clutch of passion. Now she realized what she had missed.

She pressed the back of her hand to her lips. It was a little scary, but wonderful, and she hurried to busy herself rather than dwell on something he no doubt viewed as quite insignificant.

There was so much to do. While Kelly unpacked the kitchen, Steve moved furniture to suit her wishes, hooked up her computer and printer, hung pictures, and assembled the beds.

She had labeled each box, intending for the movers to transfer them from the van to the appropriate room. Wrong. Apparently this was another
fantasy of hers. However, with minimal instruction, Steve relocated the boxes to their designated rooms. W
hen
everything
was situated
, and he
had
tightened the last screw on Lacy’s canopy bed, Kelly made-up the bed, and tucked in her droopy-eyed six-year-old for the night.

“God, it’ll feel great to sleep in my own bed.” Kelly closed the bedroom door. “My whole body aches from those stupid lawn chairs.”

“Giving up the outdoor life so soon?” he said, his voice filled with friendly sarcasm. He laid his arm buddy-fashion across Kelly’s tired shoulders. “I was going to suggest a camping trip to the Everglades next weekend.”

Kelly jabbed him in the rib cage. “You even utter ‘I told you so,’ and they’ll find your remains in a trash dumpster, Steve-know-it-all-McCarthy.”

His features froze with intimidation, twisting her glare into a grin. “Do you hear me talking?”

She laughed. “You jerk.” She pushed his arm from her shoulder.

“Hey, I believe you. How do I know you’re not some infamous serial killer from California, luring in innocent men with those gorgeous blue eyes and doing all sorts of unimaginable things to them before you finish them off?”

“You have a vivid imagination, McCarthy.” She cleared her thoughts. “I’m too tired tonight to hurt anyone. You’re safe.”

He followed her into the bedroom. “Too bad,” he said, disappointment peppering his voice.

***

Kelly was right. His imagination was vivid, and the more time Steve spent with her, the more vivid it became. She wasn’t the hard, icy woman he’d first thought she was. She was soft, good-humored, feminine, and he had to fight himself to keep his hands off her. Oh, he’d thought about moving on her, giving the relationship a small nudge. What man wouldn’t? He’d identified her stubborn streak and knew Kelly would have to think the first move was her idea. Waiting would be rough on him. Even now, watching her lean into a box and dig for sheets nearly drove him nuts.

She’d pulled her black hair back into a ponytail, and the contrast, where it hung against the creamy skin of her neck, tantalized him. His fingertips itched to reach out and touch her. He looked from Kelly to the unmade bed, his heart speeding up and his stomach aching with need. He wanted her. Not because she was a beautiful woman—he’d gotten over the chemical attraction after their house hunt outing. He cared about her now, and he thought he was beginning to understand her, whether she wanted him to or not. He also cared about Lacy.

Kelly tossed him a sheet. “Here, make yourself useful!”

She broke his concentration. If she’d known what he’d been thinking, she would have flushed crimson or thrown him out on his ear.