Babycakes (19 page)

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Authors: Donna Kauffman

BOOK: Babycakes
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Chapter 14
“
W
hy doesn’t he swim crookded?” Lilly pressed her face against the tank, watching the young turtle.
“He’s figured out how to swim with just three paddles,” Morgan told her. “Turtles are pretty smart like that.”
Lilly looked up at him. “Will it grow back? The other one?”
Morgan shook his head. “That’s why he’s here. To learn how to get around okay with three. We’ll make sure he can swim really, really well, then we can let him go home again.”
“To the ocean?”
Morgan nodded. “Maybe, when the time comes, you can help us get him back to his home.”
Her eyes went huge. “Can I?”
Morgan smiled. “If Dr. Gabe says it’s okay. But I think he’ll be happy you want to help.”
Lilly looked back at the turtle tank. “What’s his name?” She looked up. “Can I name him?”
Kit had been watching the entire byplay between the two, her heart tugging the whole time. When Morgan shot her a fast grin and a wink, she felt an entirely different kind of clutch in her chest. She grinned right back, wishing she was able to just go with the flow. He made it such an easy flow.
“His name is Donatello,” Morgan told Lilly.
Kit knew the turtle had been named after one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which she’d somehow missed seeing in her formative years. Maybe if she’d had brothers, but alas, no. Morgan, however, knew all about them and had regaled her with stories of their feats of amazing ninja turtle prowess during the trek back to Sugarberry with precious turtle cargo.
She’d stayed in the back of the truck, monitoring their passengers, but it had been an easy drive, so she’d been able to chat with Morgan as they drove. Since the turtles were strapped to gurneys and boards, she’d been more a glorified babysitter than anything else. She was thankful that had been all there was to it.
She wished she’d been able to cope better with seeing the torn-up turtle. Knowing those images would be vividly imprinted on her mind for a very long time, she was thankful for peaceful turtles and Morgan’s funny ninja turtle stories to help keep her focused on the matter at hand.
“Do-na-tello,” Lilly said, sounding it out. “That’s a funny name.”
“It’s a ninja turtle name,” Morgan told her.
He’d already told Kit that Lilly was probably still a little too young for the cartoons and movies but his stories had been so cute and funny, she’d urged him to tell Lilly about them, edited as he saw fit.
“What’s a ginja turtle?” Lilly wanted to know.
Morgan launched into a tale about Donatello and his brother turtles, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Leonardo. “Donatello was the smart, scientific one.”
“Like Dr. Langley?”
Morgan chuckled. “Exactly like Dr. Langley, in fact.”
Kit’s phone beeped in her pocket and after checking the text message, she slid off the worktable she’d been sitting on. “Hey, guys, I have to get back to the shop. The inspector is finally there.” She took off her lab coat and hung it up on the row of hooks along the back wall.
“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Lilly’s attention temporarily swayed from tank.
“I don’t know yet.” Kit scrunched up her nose. “But I’ll let Dr. Gabe know when I’m available this week, so he can tell you. Okay?”
“Okay.” Lilly looked again at the swimming turtle, then back at Kit. “Thank you for bringing Donatello here. He’s happy.”
Kit smiled. “Yes, I think he is. You should draw a picture for him in your new journal.”
Lilly’s face lit up. “Okay!” She headed back to the research area, presumably to get the journal and her crayons.
Kit turned to Morgan. “Sorry, hope that was okay.”
“More than.” He straightened from where he’d been crouched down next to the low tank. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
There went that little flip inside her chest again. “You don’t need to do that.”
He smiled. “I know.”
Lilly came bouncing back in, and Morgan said, “I’m going to walk up front with Miss Kit. You start on your picture, okay? No hands in the water. Just because he’s small—”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t bite me,” she finished. “I know. Dr. Langley told me and Miss Dre that if we put our hands in the water, it scares the turtles and we can’t ever be here again if the turtles get scared.”
“Way to go, Dr. Gabe,” Kit murmured to Morgan under her breath, giving him a sideways smile.
“I owe him,” Morgan murmured back. “That’s exactly right,” he told Lilly. “I’m glad you understand. Draw Donatello a good picture, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She had her head bent over the spiral bound journal, which looked huge across her tiny lap. “Okay,” she answered absently, already immersed in her creative masterpiece.
Morgan followed Kit up front where she retrieved her purse and sweater. “You really don’t have to—”
“I know,” he said again, then held the door to the parking lot open for her. “I just wanted to thank you for going today, for helping out. I know you’re swamped with stuff.”
“As, I imagine, are you. The glamorous life of us turtle volunteers, right?”
He chuckled as they walked to her car.
“Well, it got a lot more interesting today, anyway. I was glad I could manage the time. Lani was happy to fill in for me.”
“I’m glad we had the time to talk. Clear the air a bit more. It was . . . really good. You’re easy to talk to, and I appreciate your listening.”
“I am, too,” she said, realizing how much she meant it. “And I can ditto the rest, too.”
She turned to him. It must have been that warm, fuzzy feeling that had her opening her mouth and adding, “I know you said you wanted to stay here on Sugarberry for Thanksgiving. Would you . . . would you and Lilly consider joining me—us—for dinner? They’re a good group, a lot of laughter. I don’t think there will be other kids there, but Lilly knows Dre and Lani and me. She’ll love Alva and Franco. If you think it wouldn’t be too overwhelming for her, it might be a good way to jump in and start becoming part of the island community. Well, more than just out here at the center. Maybe Alva can invite Birdie. Maybe in a group like that, it would be easier. I don’t know. I’m just—” She stopped the sudden gush, and her lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “I’m just sticking my nose in, I guess. Tell me to stick it right back out again, and I’ll understand.”
Morgan had his hands shoved in his pockets and was just standing there, smiling at her.
“I just thought . . . well, the invitation stands,” she stammered, realizing her heart was beating way too fast in anticipation of his answer.
“How would folks feel about me being there? I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s holiday—”
“Trust me, it would be the highlight of the season for them.” She paused as she realized the true implications of what she’d just offered. If she’d thought the cupcake crew had been pushing her and Morgan together before—oh, dear Lord, what had she been thinking? Well, she’d been thinking she didn’t want Morgan and Lilly sitting home alone on Thanksgiving. That was all.
Probably,
that was all.
Surely, she could make the Cupcake Club understand it had just been an offer from one island newcomer to another.
“Does that mean you’ll consider it?” she asked.
“You realize what you’re offering. As a single guy, I’ve never had to cook the traditional feast. I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s beyond tempting to take any excuse to duck that.”
“Did you already buy a turkey?”
He shook his head. “I was wondering if maybe one of our new traditions might be Chinese carry-out on Thanksgiving.” He grinned. “We just got unpacked. Seems like a bad idea to risk burning the place down so soon.”
She laughed. “Yes, well, when you put it like that, a chopstick Thanksgiving starts to sound like the wiser approach.” She gave him a considering look. “How are you with canned cranberry sauce?”
“That, I think I can manage.”
“Okay, that can be your contribution. Well, if Lilly’s game, anyway. Let me know? And, about Birdie, I won’t say anything—”
“Actually, that might be a nice idea. But only if the rest of the group thinks so.“
“We’ll figure it out. I’m glad you’d like to come. Everyone has been so good to me here and well, I’d like for you and Lilly to experience that, too.”
His smile deepened, as did the way he was looking at her.
When the silence lingered for a few seconds, then a few seconds more, during which they just seemed to get more tangled up in each other’s gazes, she finally found her voice. “But don’t feel you have to—”
“I don’t.” He stepped closer. “You’re a special person, Kit Bellamy.”
“I—thank you.” She felt all flustered with him standing so close . . . and not in a bad way. She was having the devil of a time recalling why it was she didn’t want him in her personal space . . . because it felt pretty damn good.
She remembered being wrapped up against that broad chest of his, how sturdy and solid he’d felt, and how gently he’d comforted her. She couldn’t look at his hands without remembering how his wide palm felt, cupping her cheek. Or how good it felt to hear his deep voice, soothing her, encouraging her.
He’d made her feel stronger, rather than weak and wimpy. It should have been awkward, if not in the moment itself, surely afterward, but . . . it hadn’t been. At all. Quite the opposite.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze drifted lazily down to her mouth.
Her body responded as if he’d drifted those wide palms right over the tips of her nipples. No amount of restraint in the world could keep her gaze from drifting to his mouth, too . . . and wondering how his tongue would feel sliding over those same now-tightly budded tips. She had to swallow a small moan, but didn’t do a damn thing to stop him when he stepped forward again and closed the distance between them.
And then that palm was easing along her cheek again as he tipped her face up to his. “Just a taste, Kit,” he murmured.
“Just . . . a taste.”
His lips brushed hers, taking her mouth slowly, exploring as if he had all the time in the world and intended to make good use of every second.
She sighed against his lips and let her eyes drift shut as a shiver of pure pleasure coursed through her.
He took full advantage, sliding his hands into her hair and easing her head back. Tasting and teasing, he took the kiss deeper.
She slid her hands to his shoulders, then scraped her nails along the nape of his neck as she wove her fingers into his thick hair. He groaned deep in his throat, and the slow, sweet exploration took on a starker, greedier hunger. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her tight up against him. Her fingers knotted his hair as she urged his mouth more firmly onto hers.
The embers they’d been stoking since that first day they’d met, sparked and caught fire. He molded her body to his, leaning her back against the side of the car, and kissed her like it might be the last time he ever had the chance. She forgot where she was and who he was, and sank into it right along with him.
The sudden shrill chirp of her phone, vibrating between them where it was trapped inside her sweater pocket, startled them both. She jumped, and he lifted his mouth from hers, but kept her wrapped up against him as they caught their breath.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, with a gravelly edge to his deep voice, “but that—” He shook his head, in wonder or denial, she wasn’t sure. Looking as stunned as she felt, he took in all of her—her eyes, her mouth, her hair—his gaze as intimate as his kiss had been. Then he looked into her eyes again. “Kit, I—”
“We probably shouldn’t—”
“I know.” His gaze moved to her mouth again, and he briefly closed his eyes. “I know. You’ve made it clear what you want and what you don’t. Starting anything with me would complicate your life in so many ways . . .”
She’d been about to say they probably shouldn’t stand in the parking lot where anyone could come out and see them, but he was apparently already past any immediate issues of possible impropriety and thinking well beyond that moment. She was still trying to gather her thoughts over the sound of her pounding pulse.
“Morgan—”
He was searching her gaze again, and she could see he didn’t want to do what he knew was best. What he thought he knew, anyway. “I just wanted to know if I was right. I-I didn’t expect that.” She felt his fingertips flex on her scalp. “But then, I didn’t expect you.”
Kit was such a jumble of emotions and needs at that moment, she couldn’t begin to sort through them. Her brain was still scrambled by a single kiss that had felt more intimate, more . . . carnal, than if she’d stripped down and had sex with him on the hood of her car. Come to think of it, that sounded like a damn fine idea.
Oh boy.
“I-I didn’t, either,” she managed, struggling to rein in her—well, everything. She knew that much was true.

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