Kit And Kisses (7 page)

His hand slid beneath her hair and cradled her head. His shoulder pressed against hers and she felt an aching begin deep inside. As she opened her lips, Grey accepted her invitation. And everything changed. Gentle and slow transformed into demanding and fast. So fast, her senses reeled and Grey became her only ballast. He was heat and passion and a reason to believe in dreams again.

Wanting to feel more of Grey, wanting to draw on his strength, wanting to assuage the yearning ache the kiss was stoking, she reached for him and clasped his shoulder. She traced the muscle under his polo shirt, rolling her thumb along his collar bone. Grey groaned and plunged deeper into her mouth, sweeping her tongue with his as his hold on her tightened. Her heartbeat ran wild.

As a cricket chirped near-by, Grey pulled away. In a raspy voice, he said, "It's as hot out here as inside."

Despite the sensual daze from Grey's kiss, Kit had to smile. "That's because it's July."

He smoothed his finger across her cheekbone. "This heat has nothing to do with the month of the year."

As her pulse slowed, as she took a deep breath to get some perspective, her thoughts steadied. "Grey, I have to ask you again. Do you want another consultant to work with you?"

He thought about it. "No. I trust your professionalism. How do you feel about it?"

"I'll do the best job I know how to do for you and if at any time I feel I'm not, I'll give the account to someone else."

"Sounds fair to me." He took her hand and placed it on his knee, separating her fingers one by one, sliding his thumb from the base of each finger to the tip.

The caress was tender and sensual and made her shiver.

"Would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

"I'd like that but Pets for People visits the hospital in the morning. What about a late lunch?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I'm busy in the afternoon. What if we go to an early breakfast and then I come with you? Is that allowed?"

He covered her hand with his
—
it was warm and callused and felt so good. "Sure. We can always use a helping hand." One thought overrode the pleasure of his touch. It was a Sunday the last time he told her he had a personal commitment. She wished he'd tell her what he did...where he went.

But he didn't tell her. He stood and tugged her gently toward him. After a brief kiss that stoked the banked fire more than it quenched it, he murmured, "Good night. I'll pick you up around eight?"

She nodded.

He went down the steps and continued on the path into the dark of night. She liked Greyson Corey; she felt pulled towards him. But he was keeping something from her.

What was it?

At the hospital the next day, Grey watched as a fuzzy, mop-like dog barked and a six-year-old's face crumpled with tears. He guessed the little girl wasn't used to being around animals. But before he took a step toward her, Kit was already there with Byron, crouching next to the child's wheelchair.

The owner of the dog, an older woman with silvery hair smiled and said, "Bobo's just talking to you."

The little girl didn't seem convinced.

"I'll let him talk to someone else," the woman added. "Why don't you pet that nice kitty."

Kit assured the child, "He's very soft."

"Can I hold him?" the little girl asked.

"Sure." Kit settled Byron on the girl's lap. T
he cat rubbed his head again
st the six-year-old's hand and she giggled.

Grey and Kit had made small talk over breakfast, neither of them mentioning the night before. Grey had told himself that the attraction between them wouldn't be so strong in the light of day, but he'd been wrong. The urge to kiss her was as strong this morning as it had been last night. When they'd gone back to Kit's apartment for Byron, he'd waited outside. Being alone with Kit in her apartment could turn into more than they both bargained for.

Ever since they'd arrived at the hospital, he'd watched Kit interact with the pets and children. She talked and played with them naturally, as if she was truly enjoying herself. She'd explained that Byron and Keats took turns visiting the children. As Grey helped her and the other volunteers introduce the pets to the kids, he saw their faces light up with joy. Smiles replaced frowns and the hospital confines were forgotten, at least for a short while. Kit had told Grey they visited the children for an hour
—
that way the animals were manageable as well as the kids.

A woman in a navy suit stopped to talk to Kit. Her name tag marked her as hospital personnel. "I have a surprise for you."

Kit stood, glancing at Byron on the child's lap to make sure they were getting along. "Okay, Sally. What have you done this time? Made me head of the committee to plan the Christmas program?"

The middle-aged brunette laughed. "Nope. Not yet, anyway. But I have nominated you for Meadeville's humanitarian award for this year. This program you established is good for the kids, the pets, and the volunteers."

Kit looked surprised for a moment and then smiled. "I'm honored. Thank you."

"The newspaper will probably call you for an interview. There might be some other publicity involved but I know you can handle it. That's your area of expertise."

Grey moved away from the conversation to an unoccupied corner of the lounge. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he stared out the window. He hadn't known Kit established the Pets for People program. He'd assumed she was simply a volunteer. So why had the conversation he'd overheard bothered him?

Because it was one thing if Kit volunteered her time unselfishly. Another if she did it for the publicity, to advance her career. The bottom line was he hadn't spent enough time with her to know. He hated to think she'd do something like this simply for personal gain.

They drove back to her apartment after the hospital visit. Kit unhooked the light leash she'd attached to Byron's collar and set him down in the living room. "Go tell Keats all about it."

The cat looked at Kit, gave a small meow, and headed off toward the kitchen.

Kit shook her head. "Sometimes I think they understand me better than my clients do."

When Grey didn't respond, she asked, "Would you like something to drink? It's already hot enough to make me wish I had central air. If you weren't tied up this afternoon, we could go swimming."

He knew she was leaving him an opening. But he had questions he needed to have answered. "Why did you set up the Pets for People program?"

"I guess you heard what Sally said."

He nodded.

She laid the leash on the step stool. "You remember Bruce and Greta? Well, they have a daughter. She had her appendix removed. She hated being inactive and she was giving them a hard time. So I took Keats over one day to keep her company. You wouldn't believe what a difference it made in her attitude. Enough so that Bruce got her a kitten of her own. So...I looked at the idea in a broader context."

"You're a busy woman, Kit. Why take the time to set up a program like this? And after it was set up, why do you still volunteer? So you have something to do one Sunday afternoon a month?"

For a moment, she didn't answer him. Her gaze searched his face, then her smile faded and the brightness of her blue eyes changed to a cold crystal blue. "Why the inquisition, Grey?"

"Aren't we trying to get to know each other?"

"Maybe. But I think you have a particular question in mind that you're not asking. What do you really want to know?"

"Your motivation."

She shrugged. "That's simple. I like pets. I like people."

"And it has nothing to do with business?"

"What could it possibly have to do with business?"

"Promoting yourself, getting publicity for your company."

"And if I did it for that reason, what difference would it make?"

She was on-guard and wary and that wasn't what he wanted. "Let's just drop it."

She gave him a probing look that told him she didn't understand what had gotten into him. He didn't understand it himself. Maybe he was looking for some sign that Kit was generous and kind rather than calculating, some sign that she could take Deedee into her heart.

He checked his watch. "I have to go."

Kit brushed her bangs from her forehead. "Yes, I know. Thanks for going along
this morning. Another pair of
hands always helps."

"It was my pleasure." He took a few steps closer to her. He hadn't touched her all morning, though he'd wanted to many times over. "When can I see you again?"

Searching his face, she bit her lower lip. It was an indecisive gesture, one he wouldn't associate with her
—
she always seemed so sure of herself.

He ran his thumb over her cheekbone and added, "It can be business or pleasure." She trembled and he wanted to pull her tight against him to show her what she did to him. Instead, he waited.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to drive over to Marietta to see a man who sculptures logs with a chain saw. I thought he'd be a great draw for your promotional day. Would you like to come along?"

"Yes. I can drive if you'd like."

"That's fine," she said in a breathless tone that made his pulse race even faster.

Kissing Kit could turn into an all-afternoon commitment. So instead of setting his mouth on hers, he gently tugged her into his arms and kissed her forehead. A strand of her bangs tickled his lips. The scent of her perfume mixing with the heat could drug him. He held her a little closer...a few moments longer.

Then he released her. "I'll call you tomorrow to set up a time." Her flushed cheeks, the rosiness of her lips, the bemusement in her eyes urged him to pull her into his arms again. But he didn't. He walked to her door.

Behind the wheel of his car, he knew he'd made the right decision. One kiss with Kit would never be enough.

***

Kit climbed from Grey's car and slammed the door. Okay, so he hadn't told her what he did on Sundays. It shouldn't matter. She shouldn't care. It was really none of her business. They weren't even dating, were they?

And if he was keeping something from her, what was she doing seeing him? Hadn't she had enough of that with Trent? What did it take for her to learn her lesson?

"The company truck would have taken the stony lane better. Sorry if you got bumped around."

That's why she hadn't learned her lesson. A few words of kindness, and hope sprung eternal. She considered herself an independent woman so why did she want to think Grey was beginning to care for her?

Trying to think of today as more business than pleasure,
stirring
up her resistance against the sound of Grey's voice, the magnetic draw of her body toward his, she quipped, "I take bumps fairly well. I'm just thankful I wore sneakers instead of high heels."

There was no definite path from the rutted lane to the
cabin like
structure nestled in the woods. She wondered if it had running water and electricity.

Grey was beside her in a few moments, his hand cupping her elbow. "Does this guy live in this century?"

"I don't know. I've only spoken with him twice on the phone. His voice is...refined."

As they approached the house, Kit could see it wasn't as rustic as it looked. There was a precise quality about the porch and the rails surrounding it that piqued her curiosity. She wanted to see inside.

Grey ran his hand over the balustrade. "Nice work."

Not seeing a doorbell, Kit rapped on the solid wood door.

The man who opened it was and wasn't what she expected. He wore a black tank top and worn jeans. His beard was long and bushy. His physique spoke of many hours doing manual labor. She'd guess his age to be around thirty, until she met his gaze and suspected he might be older. Brown almost black eyes bored into her, examining her closely.

"Mr. Whittaker?" She extended her hand. "I'm Kit Saunders. And this is Grey Corey."

There was no spark of anticipation in his eyes, nor much expression in his voice. "The name's Zac. Come on and I'll show you the trees." He stepped down onto the porch.

"Wouldn't you like to discuss your fee? The hours you might be available?" she asked.

"There's no fee," Miss Saunders. "I can work in a parking lot as easily as in my workshop." He started from the porch and glanced at her puzzled expression. "Coming?"

She looked at Grey. "Uh, yes. Right behind you."

Grey murmured in her ear. "Not real sociable, is he? Where did you hear about him?"

"I didn't. I saw one of his sculptures at a backyard party a client gave."

Zac Whittaker led Grey and Kit through a grove of trees to a clearing where the sun shone brightly onto a shed. Kit squinted against the light and then breathed, "Oh, my!"

Grey rested his hand at the small of her back as they gazed from one piece to another. "Masterpieces, aren't they?"

Zac said quietly, "You can look as long as you'd like. I can either start one from scratch on the day you have in mind, or I can bring one along that's almost finished. Each one takes about two weeks. It depends on how much time I give it a day."

"And you do this with a chain saw?" Grey asked.

"I start with a chain saw for the basic outline and work. I use other tools to finish. That's what takes the time."

Grey moved toward a four foot replica of a brown bear standing upright. The fur looked real enough to be soft to the touch. But it was wood.

Before Grey could ask any of the questions he had about the type of wood, if the artist had to import it from the northwest, Zac Whittaker left them with, "You don't have to let me know when you leave. Just give me a call and tell me where and when you want me."

And he was gone, as quietly as a true woodsman.

Kit shook her head. "What if he has another commitment the day I want him?"

"Something tells me he doesn't socialize much."

Kit crossed to a totem-like three foot sculpture with an eagle and symbols she didn't recognize carved at intervals. As she ran her fingers over the eagle's head, she said, "We want Mr. Whittaker, don't we?"

Grey placed his hand over hers. "We sure do. He'll attract a crowd large enough to fill the parking lot. People might not always want to pay for fine workmanship, but they recognize talent when they see it and are fascinated by it."

She was fascinated, not only by the sculpture, but by Grey's large hand covering hers. His index finger slid into the hollow of her thumb, stroking the sensitive area gently. As he moved in closer, his jeans grazed the back of her bare legs. She'd figured shorts would be practical for this trip. She hadn't counted on standing this close to Grey, hadn't counted on him making her wish he would hold her in his arms.

His voice brushed her cheek. "I wanted to kiss you yesterday."

"You did." She could hardly make out her own words.

"That wasn't a kiss."

His lips against her forehead had made her knees wobble. "Why didn't you?"

He knew what she meant. "Because we were alone. In your apartment."

Trying to keep it light, she murmured, "I've heard privacy is good for kissing. A crowd can be inhibiting."

He smiled and turned her to face him. "A crowd can be good protection. Keep things from getting out of hand. Let's face it, when I touch you..." He stroked her cheek and she trembled. "The earth rocks. And when I kiss you..."

He bent his head and his lips were hot on hers. She felt his hands settle on her waist and draw her into him. As she parted her lips, his tongue stroked hers and explored. They fit together so perfectly. Grey rocked his hips against hers and she lost all sense of time and place.

Abruptly, he pulled away, his breathing ragged. "See what I mean?"

Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the world stop spinning. "So you're saying we shouldn't be alone."

"Not if we don't want to end up in bed."

His bluntness made her step back and prop against the totem pole for support. "No, we don't want that to happen," she said evenly, though her heart raced at the thought. She knew she didn't want a relationship with sex as its basis. Apparently Grey didn't, either. Did he even want a relationship?

"I have an idea," he said, digging his hands into his pockets.

"What? We only meet in crowds?"

"That's sort of what I have in mind. Do you think Eric and Maggie will come to dinner if I invite them?"

"Sure, they will."

"I'll give Eric a call and maybe we can set it up for Saturday night."

"Should I bring a karaoke set-up?" she teased.

He grinned. "No, thank you. But you can come early and help me with dinner."

At last she'd get to see where he lived and maybe learn more about him. "What are we having?"

"What do you suggest?"

"I'm partial to chicken. Do you have a grill?"

"I not only have a grill, I have an enclosed patio and a picnic table."

She wondered if he invited people over often
—
if he invited women over often. "Then we're all set."

He removed his hand from his pocket. She watched as he reached toward her and her breathing became shallow. But all he did was nudge her hair behind her ear. "We're set as long as we keep our minds on making dinner, and Eric and Maggie arrive on time."

She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Maggie doesn't need to be reminded to be on time. She's always five minutes early."

The sound of someone chopping wood echoed as far as the clearing, distracting Kit for a moment. She grabbed onto it to avoid d
ealing with the glimmer of de
sire in Grey's eyes. "We'd better get back. I'd really like to see inside Whittaker's house, but I don't think he's that hospitable."

Grey glanced once again at the sculptures. "But he does have talent."