Kit And Kisses (6 page)

Moments ticked by before Grey answered. Finally, he said, "I don't want another consultant. I want you." His green eyes were giving her the message he wanted her for more than her public relations expertise.

"I don't get involved with my clients, Grey. It's not good business." Never mind that she didn't intend to get involved with anyone.

"It was a kiss, Kit. That's all. We're adults. We control what happens to us."

And that was exactly the problem. She hadn't controlled what had happened to her in the past. Trent Higgins had slipped by her good sense and the intuition she'd trusted since she was a child with pretty words and promises and hope-building dreams.

Grey must have followed the path of her thoughts because he said, "The store's too important to me to jeopardize its future for a..."

"Roll in the hay?" she suggested sweetly.

He frowned. "
If those are the terms you want to use."

She sighed. "They're as good as any." She was still too close to Grey. She still remembered his taste and the heat of his lips.

But before she could move away, he reached out and stroked her cheek. "You're a very sexy woman."

She could tell him he was a very sexy man but the emerald sparks of desire still dancing in his eyes told her to be careful.

Pulling away from him, she kidded, "Only when I'm dressed for patch plastering." Gesturing toward the pizza, she asked, "Finished?"

He nodded, his black hair falling over his forehead, his gaze much too intense for her peace of mind. She had to watch her step around Greyson Corey, yes, indeed, and she'd better not forget that.

***

Wednesday morning, Grey unpacked a shipment of rural mailboxes. He could let Gus or Larry do it, but he was too restless to work in his office. He'd caught himself thinking about kissing Kit too many times to count. Just a kiss, he'd said, as if he kissed and reacted like that at least once a day. Jeez! That kiss had practically untied his sneakers. Or more realistically led him to toss Kit over his shoulder and carry her to her bedroom.

And then what, Corey? How would you work with her? How would you talk to her? Would you tell her about Deedee? Would you let them meet?

He didn't think Kit was like Susan, but how could he tell until he got to know her better? Susan had made remarks in Deedee's presence that had hurt his sister. And after he and Susan broke up, Deedee had asked him, "It was my fault, wasn't it? That she doesn't like you anymore."

Afterward, he'd wondered how he could have thought he cared for Susan, how he could have been so wrong about a woman. Then he remembered her stunning looks, her intelligence, her sweetness when she chose to be sweet. Did Kit choose the face she showed to him or anyone else, calculating its effect? She didn't seem that way.

The bell over the door tinkled and he peered over the shelf.

He didn't know what always captivated him first, the bright colors Kit wore or her blue eyes. Today, her short-sleeved suit of canary yellow made her eyes even bluer as she caught sight of him and smiled. There was no awkwardness in it because after the kiss, after their anything-but-thorough discussion of it, they'd gone back to being "friendly." But the turmoil surging through Grey was indicative of more than friendly.

As she threaded her way toward him, his body tightened and he realized his attraction to her would be an uphill battle to fight.

Standing beside him, she unzipped her briefcase and removed a folder. "I hav
e a few stra
tegies I'd like to look over with you if you have some time. One is a revised floor plan."

He knew he'd have to make changes, but he didn't like the sound of this one. "Just how much do you want to move around?"

"Let's go to your office, and I'll show you."

His office? Alone with Kit? He crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't. I'm here alone. Gus called in. He won't be here until eleven."

"The cashier's counter will do. I need to spread out a little."

He pushed the carton with the mailboxes to the corner and headed for the counter. If she needed to spread out, that meant the changes were extensive. Terrific. She was going to turn his store as topsy-turvy as his mind when he thought about her.

It took Kit one look into Grey's eyes and about a minute of conversation to realize something was wrong. They'd parted amiably Friday night, at least as amiably as she could manage after that kiss. He'd seemed so matter-of-fact about it, and she'd assumed it hadn't affected him the same way it had affected her. Had he thought about the kiss and regretted it? There was nothing to regret. Yet.

Kit took the floor plan from the folder and unfolded it, smoothing it on the counter.

After a minute of silent examination, he said, "I don't see the tool case."

The five-foot long, waist high case was difficult to ignore. It's absence, even on the floor plan, was obvious. She'd come here in person instead of emailing the plans because she had a feeling the tool case could be a bone of contention.

If she was lucky, she could explain this tactfully. "The tools inside look like antiques. Are they?"

"Yes. Dad and I collected them. Come here a minute." He crossed to the case in the front of the store and waited for her.

She weighed her words as she approached the case, realizing from his expression that he didn't want to move it. "I understand that the collection might be a hobby you and your dad shared. But what you have to think about now is what will sell to your customers, and ask yourself if this case, taking up prime store space, helps your profit or hurts it."

Grey took a key ring from his pocket and inserted a small key into the lock on the back of the case. "I guess it depends on how you look at it. These tools come from a time when workmanship held pride as well as skill. Look at this auger and that maul. They're at least a hundred and fifty years old."

He handed her the auger and she examined it carefully. "Um. I appreciate what you're telling me. But don't you think you could use this space for a new product or a sale item? It's the focal point of
the
store when a customer walks in."

"And just where do you want me to put the case?" he asked with an edge to his voice that told her better than the twitch in his jaw that he was holding his temper.

"If you choose to keep it in the store, put it somewhere less obvious where it won't interfere with sales." This was business, and Grey had to face the reality of it.

But he shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, enforced patience emanating from him. "Do you know how rare antique tools are? Do you have any idea what these are worth?"

There was something more going on here than the moving of a display case. She was sure of it. "No. And it's a good thing no one else does either or they'd try to rip them off. You can't even see this case from the checkout counter. There's no mirror, either. And while we're at it, we need to talk about a security system."

"My customers would never..."

"Do you know each one personally?" She handed back the auger, her fingers brushing his and tingling from the contact.

His gaze locked to hers. His serious green eyes seemed to hold a world of mysteries. What made Greyson Corey tick? What did he hold dear besides this store? And what could put a twinkle of merriment in his eyes?

Breaking eye contact, he put the tool back in the case. "I've known many of them for years. That's the type of store we are, a store that cares about customers, and service, and history."

Evidently, he wasn't getting her point. "How many people stop and look in this case in a week?"

With a shrug he locked it. "I don't know. I've never kept count."

"Maybe you should. You need to see if it's worth the space it's taking up. And remember, just because a customer stops to look at antique tools doesn't make him want to buy new ones."

Grey's jaw set stubbornly as he once again dropped his keys in his pocket.

She said quietly, "You hired me to help you."

"This wasn't the kind of help I expected."

"I think it's more than that."

"I told you before, it might take me a while to adjust to the idea of change. Baskets, a website and fliers are one thing. Changing everything about Corey's is another."

"We're talking about moving a display case."

Scowling, he went back to the counter and pointed to the floor plan. "And the shelves, and the appliance section."

"Look at the red arrow. That's the stream of traffic. Do you see how much freer it will be?"

"All right. Fine. We'll try it."

"What's really the problem, Grey?"

He looked up and said evenly, "The changes are the problem."

"I don't buy it."

His eyes narrowed. "And what do you think the problem is?"

"I don't know. That's why I asked. But it feels as if there's something wrong between the two of us."

"There is nothing between the two of us," he shot back sharply.

She felt his words hit her like a hard blow. How was it possible that this man had the power to hurt her? Not already. Not again.

Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath. "You're right, of course. And there are a lot of changes to consider. I can only make the ones that you allow." Sliding the floor plan toward him, she added, "Think about it. I should have the complete outline of what I've planned along with mock-up ads and ideas for a website by next week."

Picking up her briefcase, she zipped it and forced a smile, realizing she was retreating, recognizing it as unusual behavior for her but not caring. "I'll call you when I have everything ready for your approval."

She didn't wait for Grey to respond or to follow up on his earlier conclusion. There was nothing between them.

As she opened the door, though, she wondered why she felt bruised, why she felt as if she'd miscalculated again.

***

Opening the door to The Music Box, Grey stepped inside. If he found Kit, she had every right to tell him to go to hell. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes. He'd almost gone after her. But his pride had stopped him as well as the attraction between them.

The past few days, his conscience had bothered him. He'd decided the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Kit. Finally admitting it to himself, he realized he wanted to get to know her better. Apologies came hard for him, but he owed her one. More than anything else, he wanted to see the sparkle back in those blue eyes when she looked at him as much as he wanted to kiss her again.

He spotted her at a table almost immediately. Tonight, she wore a slim-fitting violet dress. The material l
ooked soft, touchable. Gold sp
iral earrings hung from her ears. Sitting with two men and a woman, she laughed at something one of them said. Had she come with one of those men? She looked at ease. The man on the left dropped his arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear. She laughed again.

Okay, Corey. Go break up the party. You have to do this.

Actually, he wanted to do this...and a lot more.

She didn't see him approach. When he tapped her shoulder and she turned, her eyes widened, then narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

All eyes were on him. One of the men raised questioning brows. The other leaned slightly closer to Kit in a proprietary manner. The woman gave him a swift, curious appraisal.

"I came to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?"

She hesitated, then replied firmly, "I have a phone and an office, Grey. Wouldn't that have been easier?"

"This is personal not business. And you weren't home last night or this afternoon, and I didn't particularly want to talk to a machine. I don't have your cell number."

Her cheeks became more pink as she glanced at her friends, then back at him.

As she studied him, he couldn't read a thing from her expression. Finally, she pushed her chair away from the table and said to the people with her, "Excuse me for a few minutes."

The man beside her covered her hand with his. "Is everything all right?"

"It's fine, Bruce." She smiled. "Keep my seat warm."

Grey took her elbow and nodded to an empty table in the corner. Pulling away, she walked ahead of him. Once they sat and faced each other, Grey didn't know exactly what to say. He wanted to ask who Bruce was but decided that wouldn't be a tactful way to begin. There probably wasn't a tactful way to begin.

So he started with, "I changed the store around."

She tilted her head. "Did you?"

"You were right about the flow of traffic."

She didn't gloat or even look particularly pleased. "I thought you didn't come about the store."

"I came to apologize."

"For what? Stating the truth?"

"No, for denying the truth. For hurting you."

"You didn't
—
"

He took her hand, stopping her denial. "That kiss took me by surprise."

After a moment, her expression softened and her hands lost their tense rigidity. "Me, too."

He ran his thumb over the top of her hand. "I'd like to get to know you better. Yet, I don't know if I'm ready for a serious relationship
—
"

A waitress appeared beside Kit and tapped her shoulder. "You're up."

"Already?"

"The guy before you chickened out. Go on. Joe's ready to introduce you."

"Go ahead," Grey said. "I'll be here when you're finished."

She stood and grabbed his hand. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Come up with me. You just watch the monitor for the lines."

"I can't do that."

She pulled him to the dais. "Sure, you can. Live a little."

"Kit, I don't know..."

She grinned. "This doesn't have to be a serious relationship. I'm doing a song you'll know. Singers have been singing it for years."

As Joe introduced her, she took the microphone and introduced Grey, telling the audience he was going to help her on the refrain.

They applauded, Kit smiled, and Grey decided to make a fool of himself simply because it might be fun...because he caught the excitement of Kit's enthusiasm. When she started singing along to the music, he almost changed his mind. Her voice was sweet and true and definitely on key. But he knew the refrain to the old standard even without the monitor, and when she motioned him to sing along, he did. He couldn't believe it was his voice coming out of the speakers. Except for some hesitancy, he didn't sound too bad!

As he got into the rhythm, as he gazed into Kit's eyes while they sang, he forgot about the audience. It was just the two of them...exploring...connecting...having fun. When the patrons applauded at the end of the song, he raised Kit's hand with his high above their heads and grinned. When they left the raised dais, he still held her hand.

As she passed the table where she'd sat with her friends, Bruce said, "Way to go, Kit."

She stopped. "Thanks.
Hi
Grey, this is Bruce Carlson, CEO of Sunrise Public Relations, his wife, Greta, and Rob who works in the office next door to mine. Everyone, Greyson Corey. He owns Corey's Hardware."

Rob looked Grey over again as if sizing him up, but Bruce extended his hand. "It's good to meet you. Kit and I have discussed your account. I think you'll be happy with what she has planned."

"I'm willing to try whatever she suggests."

"Why don't you join us," Bruce suggested. "We can pull over another table."

What Grey wanted was to be alone with Kit. But she was looking at him inquisitively. She'd come with these people and probably wanted to spend the rest of the evening with them. This might be a good way to keep the ice broken between them.

Grey sat close to Kit, not touching her. His body went on alert each time she moved. He enjoyed the conversation which included everything from politics to advertising strategies. As the last karaoke singer performed and the DJ put on top forty hits, Grey leaned close to Kit and asked, "Did you come with Rob?"

"No. I drove myself."

That wasn't what he meant. "Are you with him?" The scent of her perfume, the silkiness of her hair as it brushed his chin sped up his pulse rate.

"No. I'm not with anyone."

"Would you like to go for a cup of coffee?"

She looked down at the cranberry juice and soda spritzer she'd been sipping. "Do you really want coffee or do you want to talk?"

"We could do both."

She hesitated a moment then asked, "Would you like to come to my place? To talk."

She was warning him ahead of time and setting her boundaries. For now, talking would be enough. "Yes."

After they bid good night to everyone in the group, Grey followed Kit home, parking beside her on a gravel patch at the back of the immense old home. He waited under the trees as she locked her car, then joined him on the walkway. The night was black as pitch with only a sliver of a moon to light their way to the house.

"Do you feel safe coming home like this?"

"Usually I leave the back porch light on. I forgot tonight." Her high heels clicked on the sidewalk, and Grey sensed more than watched the sway of her hips as she walked beside him.

"Is there a tenant upstairs?"

"Not right now. A young couple just moved out. They're buying a house. My landlord's looking for a renter."

"So you're here all alone."

"Grey, it's no big deal. I can take care of myself."

Yes, he supposed she could. But protectiveness he'd only ever felt in connection with Deedee or his father urged him to look out for Kit, too. It was a strange feeling, one he never remembered having with Susan.

Grey could barely make out the edges of gardens as they walked up the path. He caught the scent of roses as they neared the house. Did Kit tend to the flowers, or did the landlord?

They walked up the wooden porch steps. Kit inserted her key in the lock. As she stepped into the kitchen, she turned on the light. They blinked at each other in the sudden glare. The heat in the house made sweat bead up on Grey's forehead.

"I have lemonade in the fridge. We could take it outside and sit on the porch," she offered.

"That's fine."

Kit's two cats came prowling into the kitchen as she pulled two glasses from the cupboard. Grey crouched down, rubbing the tabby under his chin. "What are their names?"

Kit pointed to the one he was petting. "That's Byron."

The black and white cat brushed against the back of his hand, wanting attention, too. "And this one?"

"That's Keats."

Grey chuckled. "They're not shy."

"Nope. Just friendly. Tomorrow Byron gets to go to the hospital to play with the kids."

"I don't understand."

"I belong to a group
—
Pets for People. One Sunday a month, we take our pets to pediatrics and let the kids play with them. It's amazing how frowns turn to smiles when they can pet a puppy or a cat."

Grey thought about Deedee and her job at the pet shop. She loved being around animals and she was good with them. He stood as Kit held out a glass of lemonade.

She preceded him outside and settled on the porch step. "Sorry I don't have lawn chairs. I've been saving all my pennies for the living room."

Settling beside her, he took a swallow of lemonade before he set the glass on the step. "Did you pick out furniture yet?"

"I ordered it a while ago. The delivery date is set for less than two weeks."

The scent of roses was strong as Grey turned to Kit. "I enjoyed tonight."

She set her glass on the porch by the wooden post. "Even the singing?"

He smiled. "Even that. Though I don't think it'll turn into a hobby."

"You have a good voice."

"And you have a beautiful voice."

The kitchen light shed dim rays onto the porch. With her head tilted, Kit's blond hair caught them and shimmered. Her eyes were as bright and sparkling as her voice was beautiful. The boat neck of her dress revealed creamy skin that looked as touchable as her hair. He wanted her, and the want became a need that ached.

When he raised his hand, she didn't back away but kept her gaze on his. He stroked her cheek. It was as soft as he'd imagined.

"Is Kit your real name?" The huskiness in his voice seemed to fit in the dusky night, in the silence that wrapped around them as he waited for her answer.

"Katerina is my given name."

"It fits. It's a name that belongs to a princess."

Her expression changed. Her eyelids fluttered down so he couldn't see what she was thinking. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head.

He lifted her chin gently with the tips of his fingers. "Tell me."

"I have a problem accepting compliments from men. Trent was good at it. So now, I can't help but wonder what the motivation is...if they're sincere."

"Do you think I tell every woman I see that they have a beautiful voice and a name fit for a princess?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"I don't know."

She was wary because she'd been hurt badly. He could certainly understand that. But he also sensed that Kit was a woman who trusted her instincts. He stroked his thumb along her chin. "I think you do."

"Grey, I don't know if I trust my judgment anymore. Just Wednesday you said
—
"

"I know what I said, and I was wrong. There's something between us strong enough to make me want to deny it." He was definitely wrong about wanting just to talk. There was no point deluding himself or her.
"
As far as my motives go, maybe I do have an ulterior motive tonight. I want to kiss you again."

"You do?"

"If you don't have any objections."

She gave a brief shake of her head and murmured, "No objections."

He moved closer slowly, savoring the anticipation, the excitement, the desire sparkling in Kit's eyes. This time he wanted to hold her in his arms. This time he wanted to kiss her without regrets or caution or worries about tomorrow.

Kit trembled before Grey's arm wrapped around her. When he'd tapped her on the shoulder at The Music Box, she'd been surprised, elated, scared, and wary. Until he apologized. Then she'd realized he didn't know how to handle the chemistry between them any better than she did. The decision to pull him onto the stage with her had been pure impulse. She'd wanted to make him laugh. She'd wanted to see him smile. She'd wanted to see him enjoy himself.

Inviting him to come here had not been an impulse, but as Grey's arm enfolded her, she knew it might have been a mistake. The touch of his lips was curious, as if he wanted to discover more than he'd discovered before. He pressed against her gently, slowly persuading her to believe there was no where else she'd rather be and certainly nothing else she'd rather be doing.