Honeymoon For One Page 9

  ***

  Every instinct Kirk had told him to stay the hell away from Michelle Bradford and her sister. The pair was instant family personified. The bill of goods. The trap. And yet, when he stopped for lunch, he found himself ordering spare ribs, shrimp fried rice, moo goo gai pan, sweet and sour chicken, and beef and broccoli. To go.

  Now with enough Chinese food to feed the entire block, Kirk rolled down Michelle's street. No one was in sight, but several large boxes were stacked along the shrubs in the front yard. He parked his car in their driveway and, like the ancient Greeks, approached the front door bearing gifts. Or in this case, food. Though the way to a man's heart was through his stomach was usually applied to men, years of experience had taught him that good food could go a long way with winning over women, too. Was that what he wanted? To win her over?

  Sanity, or terror, had him ready to turn around when Corrie stepped out of the house onto the porch.

  "Hey." The screen door slammed shut behind her. "You come to help with the lights?"

  "If your sister will let me."

  Corrie smiled. "I see Siszilla has struck again.”

  Kirk smothered a laugh. "I didn't say that. But I did bring food."

  Corrie poked her nose into one of the brown bags and sniffed. "Hmm. I say the lights can wait." Relieving him of one of the paper bags, she turned and walked back into the house, shouting for her sister.

  "Run next door and ask Angie if she has—" Michelle stopped short in the hall.

  Wearing a worn-out Moody Blues sweatshirt over a plaid flannel shirt with faded baggy pants and her hair tied back in a red bandanna, the woman looked absolutely edible. He held out the bag. "I brought lunch.”

  "Chinese," Corrie offered, as if it weren't obvious from the paper bags and tantalizing aroma of fried rice wafting down the hall.

  Michelle ran her hands down the side of her sweatpants before taking the bag from him. "You shouldn't have.”

  The gentle twitch at the corner of a forced smile told him she wasn't just being polite. She meant it. But after almost four hours at his computer and next to nothing to show for his time, he really did need to come by and see his Micki. He missed her. Missed the feel of her in his arms. The sound of her laugh. The throaty little sound she'd make when he touched her in just the right spot.

  Slowing his gait, he shook off any more thoughts that would get him into serious trouble. Especially if he walked into the kitchen sporting the hard-on currently pressing against his zipper. Damn, he needed to get this assignment over with. And fast.

  ***

  "The nail should be just under the ridge of shingles." Michelle pointed to the spot where she used to see Steven reaching when he hung the Christmas lights.

  "If there was a nail here before, it's not here now." Kirk turned in place, lowered a few steps on the ladder, and bowed one swinging arm impersonating a gorilla. "Hand me a new nail and the hammer."

  Corrie took off for the porch and reappeared carrying a hammer and a broad smile. "Is Michelle going to have to pay you in bananas?”

  "All donations accepted." He clipped her chin with one finger before wrapping his hand around the handle of the hammer and returning to his earlier perch at the top of the ladder.

  "Well, it's certainly been a lot more fun hanging lights with you than stuffy Steven."

  "Stuffy Steven?”

  Michelle noticed him fumble briefly with the cord before she shot her sister a don't-go-there look.

  Kirk secured the string of lights to the new nail and leaned over to hook it around the next nail before coming down to move the ladder over.

  "So," he asked, climbing back up. "Would this stuffy Steven be the same friend I met at the office not long ago?"

  Michelle wished her sister was close enough to kick. "Don't slip." She pointed to the ladder, ignoring the question and urging him back to work.

  Stopping halfway up, he turned to glance at Michelle. Memories of a ripped hunk making his way up the rock wall filled her with an unexpected heat. Damn him. More recent memories from the hospital of a calm, steady hand urging her on, assuring her all would be well, squeezed her heart. Double damn.

  Still waiting for an answer, he tossed a glance Corrie's way. His eyes asking the same question.

  Shrugging an apologetic shoulder, Corrie offered her sister an overly sweet, it's-not-my-fault-he-asked look. "Tall, skinny guy, sort of good-looking in a metrosexual sort of way?"

  Kirk hung another stretch of lights before he answered, "Could be." Descending the ladder he directed another question to Corrie. "Works at a bank?"

  "Yep. The Rat Bastard. Steven Williams the Fourth."

  "The Fourth?" He made a good effort to hide a smile before moving the ladder a few more feet. "That might explain that metrosexual thing.”

  "Might." Corrie tested another string of lights before passing it on to Kirk.

  For the next couple of hours Michelle and Corrie tested lights, changed burned out bulbs, and held the strands so Kirk wouldn't get tangled climbing up and down the ladder.

  "I gather you don't need to raid my tool box anymore?" Angie strode across the short stretch of lawn between the two houses. "Who's the hunky handyman?"

  "That would be my boss. At least for now.”

  Angie's eyes circled round. "That's the guy who holds your job in the palm of his hand?"

  Michelle opened another box of replacement bulbs. "One and the same.”

  Holding her hand to shade her eyes, Angie watched Kirk and Corrie work. "So why is he stringing your lights?”

  Why was he stringing her lights? "I think he likes heights."

  Hand still on her forehead, Angie closed one eye and cast a sideway glance at Michelle before dragging her attention back to Kirk and Corrie. "He seems to be having a good time."

  "They both do. When Steven would help, it was like being in the army. Do this. Do that. Not here. There."

  Her ex-fiancé's rigid style and Kirk’s thrill-of-living attitude couldn't have been further apart. Occasionally Kirk would look her way and offer a reassuring smile, but mostly he'd laughed at Corrie's jokes, smiled at her efforts to hang the lower lights, and grinned like a fool every time she squealed with excitement at another row of lights turning on. For a man who didn't believe in the American dream, he knew how to do family.

  With every strand, Michelle had tried to come up with an excuse not to invite him to stay for supper. But flashes of Kirk from the ship clogged her mind. The man on the ladder was the same lighthearted man who had encouraged her, had made her feel she could accomplish anything, who, despite all her insecurities, never once had made her feel silly or out of place. He'd showed her how to laugh, play, and just enjoy life. Even now, standing in her front yard, he'd done it again. She hadn't felt this alive since…well, since her honeymoon cruise for one.

  "They look like they're finished.”

  Lost in her thoughts, Michelle had almost forgotten Angie was standing next to her.

  "All done." Kirk brushed his hands together and smiled at her before casting his glance at Angie.

  "Kirk McEntire this is my neighbor Angie Cannon."

  "How do you do?" He extended his hand.

  "A pleasure." Angie's cheeks flushed as she stretched her hand out to accept his. "And, on that note, I need to run. My date will be picking me up shortly, and I still haven't changed."

  "Nice meeting you." Kirk waved a hand at her.

  Hurrying back to her house, Angie smiled over her shoulder and waved back.

  Kirk turned his wrist to glance at the time. "Another hour before sundown."

  This was it. The moment Michelle had been trying to avoid. Her heart took off at a fast gallop, and her palms were actually sweating. It was all so unfair. Why couldn't Steven have made her heart race and her palms sweat? Why did it have to be this man she couldn't bring herself to say good-bye to?

  The last syllable had barely formed in her mind when everything stopped. Her heart, her breath, her hopes,
her dreams. Oh, my God.

  They were right. Steven and Beth were right. She'd never been in love with him. With Steven her heart never raced the way it did when Kirk came into view. Not even in the sweltering heat waves of August had her palms sweat the way they did when Kirk looked at her with steam in his gaze. And heaven help her, not once in the two years she and Steven dated, or the five years they'd been engaged, had she been so desperate to wrap herself around him that she'd seriously considered ignoring all decorum and making love in a public hallway. Making love.

  "Oh, God," she mumbled, raising her hand to her mouth.

  "What?" Kirk and Corrie echoed.

  Crap. Had she said that out loud?

  "What's wrong?" Corrie asked, moving closer to her sister, a look of earnest concern crinkling her brow.

  "Uh. Nothing. It just looks..." She glanced around the yard. Even in the daylight she knew it was going to be fabulous. "Magnificent."

  Corrie hugged her sister. "I can hardly wait for sunset to turn them all on. This is way sweeter than what we usually do."

  "I just did what you told me," Kirk answered while collecting the empty boxes.

  "Yeah." Corrie let go of her sister. "When Steven helped, we always had a nice sprinkling of lights, but this is a way cool explosion of color.”

  "Glad you approve." He spoke to Corrie, but looked at Michelle.

  She knew he was, because she could feel the heat of his gaze burning through her. Everything in her shouted getting close to this man again was a huge mistake. With a capital H, Huge. The kind of mistake that, this time, her heart might not survive. She opened her mouth to send him home and heard herself say, "Stay for supper?"

  ***

  "Dinner was delicious." Kirk picked up his plate and carried it to the sink.

  "Glad you liked it."

  "I don't usually get home-cooked meals, and now I've had two in less than a week."

  "It's not much compared to all your hard work.”

  "I had fun. I don't do much for the holidays. This was...nice.”

  Moping into the room, Corrie tossed her phone onto the table and plopped loudly into the nearest seat. The attitude he'd met that first day in the office was back.

  Michelle turned to the sulking teen. “Bad news?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Corrie shrugged, and even Kirk could read the frustration on Michelle's face. Handing off his plate to Michelle, he winked, then turned to face Corrie. “Nobody around to hang out with?”

  “Everyone’s gone rock climbing,” she huffed.

  “And they didn’t invite you?”

  “Of course they did." Corrie’s spine stiffened, her lips tightened, and the fury in her gaze should have burned a hole through him. "I told Brittany I couldn’t go.”

  “Because of your wrist?”

  “No, it feels much better." Slumped back in the seat, she waved a thumb at her sister. "She never lets me go.”

  Kirk shot Michelle a fast glance, then turned his full attention to Corrie. “Where do your friends climb?”

  “At Pete’s.”

  “Pete’s?” he repeated.

  “Pete’s Sports Complex,” Michelle added. “They have skating, basketball, batting cages, and rock climbing. The local kids practically live over there.”

  “So, you're not talking about real rock climbing, but an indoor facility with protective gear, safety lines, all standard precautions?” Kirk addressed Corrie, but the query was directed at Michelle. Since he couldn't come outright and say, "You've done it. You know it's safe," this was the best he could do.

  “Yeah.” Corrie shrugged. “But Michelle thinks it's too dangerous.”

  “When was the last time you asked?”

  Corrie stared at Kirk. Tilting her head, as though it might help her understand better, she mumbled, “Not too long ago.” Then shifted her focus to Michelle.

  Under her sister’s scrutiny, Michelle shifted in place. A vain effort to hide her discomfort. He understood she loved her sister, but the woman needed to cut the kid some slack.

  “Can I go with my friends? You know, rock climbing?”

  The hopeful look in Corrie’s eyes should have been enough to turn the hardest of hearts. Or the most protective of sisters.

  “Yeah." Michelle finally nodded. "You can.”

  The excited teenager practically leaped over the table to hug Michelle. “Thanks, sis.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kirk waited for the expected Be careful, but it never came. He bit back a grin. She got it. Mama bear was learning to let go of the cub.

  Corrie whirled around and threw her arms around Kirk. “And you, too! I’m not sure exactly how, but I know you had something to do with this.”

  Taken by surprise with the sudden gush of emotion, Kirk lifted his arms hesitantly and slowly circled them about the teenager. “I, uh...all I did was ask a few pertinent questions.”

  “Whatever, but thanks." Corrie pulled away. From halfway down the hall she called back, "I'll be home by ten.”

  As soon as the door latched closed behind her, Michelle turned to Kirk. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  Eyes filled with tenderness settled on him. “Everything."

  "Sure. No problem." Unsure what more to say, he reached for the last of the dirty dishes.

  She stilled his hand with hers. "You've done enough work today. You don't have to do the dishes, too.”

  "Cooks shouldn't have to clean up.”

  "This cook does." With a smile, she turned on the water and reached for the dish soap.

  Hip braced against the counter, Kirk crossed his arms and wondered what was the whole story behind Michelle/Micki Bradford. "Why does Corrie call Steven Rat Bastard?"

  Michelle dropped the dish she'd been rinsing and blinked several times before blowing out a long slow breath. "Steven was my...fiancé."

  Swallowing hard, Kirk hid the stab of jealousy that poked at him. "Was?"

  Grabbing another dish, Michelle nodded. She ran the plate under the water. Whether she was thinking, hurting, or hiding, he wasn't sure. But he waited.

  Hands finally still, her shoulders hunched, she focused on a distant point out the window. "He broke it off three days before the wedding. The cruise was to be our honeymoon.”

  Three days? Rat Bastard was too good for him. Fucking Asshole.

  Michelle slipped the dish into the machine and reached for another.

  Busy work. He understood keeping busy.

  "Beth was my best friend. She was supposed to be my maid of honor.”

  The way she said supposed to be pricked him.

  "She and Steven were married in Las Vegas.”

  "Here's your hat, what's your hurry?" he mumbled.

  Michelle let the dish drop into the sink and leaning heavily on one elbow, turned to face him. "I never cried. Don't you think a normal person would have cried?"

  "Is this a trick question?"

  A curt huff that might have been a chuckle slipped past a weak smile. "Trick being the key word." She turned her back to the sink. Her arm brushed against his, but neither moved. "I couldn't believe my best friend would do that to me."

  "These things happen."

  The way her chin tipped up so she could study him made Kirk want to run for cover. She looked all too perceptive.

  "Did you lose your best girl to your best friend?”

  "Not exactly."

  "What exactly?”

  "My mother divorced my dad for his best friend.”

  Straightening to her full height, she cocked her head, continuing to study him. "How old were you?"

  "Fifteen." And why did he answer that? He never talked of his family with anyone. Not even Dave.

  "That couldn't have been easy."

  He'd already said more than he'd intended. "Did you suspect something was going on between the Rat and your best friend?"

  Turning back to the window, she shook her head. "Comple
tely blindsided.”

  Kirk nodded. Wasn't it always that way? "So I was rebound sex?"

  One corner of her mouth tipped in a lopsided grin. "Something like that.”

  Leaning in close enough to hear her breathe, he lowered his voice, "Want to do it again?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Kirk's deep-throated voice sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine. When Michelle had first heard that sinfully sexy voice in the casino, she'd had no idea what he was capable of. Now she knew, and heaven help her, she wanted.

  Unsure who moved first—and right now, there was very little she was sure of, except having his arms wrapped around her felt damn good—his lips tasted and caressed. Slowly, his fingers slid forward from around her waist and slipped under her shirt.

  The sudden rush of chilled air against her hot skin had her gasping for breath. Kirk didn't miss his chance. As their mouths tasted and dueled with a delicate hunger, his hands danced along her sensitive flesh with a gentle touch that made her body sing. Every inch of her knew Kirk's touch, remembered the feel of him, but this was different. With the same tenderness and care a master would use to play a fine-tuned instrument, his fingers soothed, caressed, and excited. The tangle of sensations sent her mind and body reeling.

  Someplace in the back of her mind, flash cards of sanity popped into her head. Kitchen, windows, neighbors. But before her frazzled neurons could process the contrary information, Kirk hiked her into his hold. Her arms already wound about his neck, her legs eagerly twined around his waist. With slow steady steps that matched his gentle kisses, he carried her down the hall, and just as slowly, moved up the stairs.

  At the top of the creaking staircase, he murmured against her lips, "Which room?"

  "End of the hall," she mumbled, her emotions scrambled with her heightening senses. Her heart screamed Wait, think about this, he's going to leave us. Her body cheered with ragged breaths, yes, more. And, oh, she wanted more. But, if this was all she could ever have, her heart would simply have to live with the right now.