Carly Phillips: Simply Sinful

She’d heard the expression sucker-punched before, but Kayla thought she and her wary heart were immune. Her visitor made her rethink that notion.

From his wing-tip shoes to his tawny and immaculately groomed hair, the man emanated strength and power cloaked in a double-breasted suit. Her breath caught in her chest. She was grateful she had been too hot and uncomfortable to eat because her stomach lurched in an unfamiliar combination of excitement, trepidation and awe. Heat settled over her in a huge wave that had nothing to do with the broken unit in the back.

She’d wanted to cool off? Not even the spring breeze blowing in behind him would cause her blood to chill now. At a professional glance he looked every inch the executive she wanted to target with her new business angle. From a personal standpoint, he set her body tingling with one long glance. “Can I help you?” she asked.

He nodded and offered an awkward smile. “Charmed?” He held out his hand, then seemed to reconsider, then changed his mind again and shoved his hand forward, nearly hitting her in the chest.

She tipped her head to the side, stunned by his awkward manner. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

He laughed aloud, a sexy rumbling sound that vibrated inside her. A confident sound at odds with the inept handshake he’d offered. “No, I meant the sign outside said Charmed! so I assume I have the right place.” The voice was every bit as sexy as the man.

A renewed surge of warmth trickled through her veins, slow and easy, like warm molasses. She liked the feeling. “That you do. I’m Kayla Luck, the owner.” She shook his outstretched hand.

His touch was strong and self-assured, so unlike the weak handshake of the men she’d met at the accounting firm where she used to work.

“Glad to meet you, Ms. Luck.” Without warning, he began pumping her hand too eagerly. “Or is it Mrs.?” He paused a beat. “I really should have asked, I mean I have no right to jump to conclusions and insult a lady…”

Unable to comprehend his sudden rambling, she interrupted him. “It’s Ms. or Miss. Your choice. Personally I was never into feminist lingo.” She eased her hand out of his grip before he yanked her arm out of its socket. The rough edges of his skin brushed against hers. Despite all logic, she enjoyed the lingering caress.

“No Mrs.,” he mused. “Must be my ‘lucky’ day.” He shook his head and laughed. “That was pathetic. You must hear jokes like that all the time.”

“Too often. What can I…” Kayla caught her slip. “I mean what can Charmed! do for you, Mr…?”

“McDermott. Kane McDermott.”

“Are you here for the wine-tasting class, Mr. McDermott? Because it’s been canceled.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “I can see why. It’s a damn furnace in here.”

“Actually it is the furnace.”

“Which explains why you’ve stripped for summer before the start of the season.” All traces of awkwardness gone, his smoky gaze fell on the silk shell that clung to her skin.

Embarrassment nearly suffocated her. She started to cross her arms and stopped, realizing she’d made a bad situation worse. She recognized the bold admiration in his chiseled features, the frank appraisal common to most men she’d come in contact with. Throughout her twenty-five years, she’d grown to both know and hate that stark, assessing look. Yet somehow, with his velvet stare boring into hers, she couldn’t take offense.

Even so she couldn’t possibly be interested in a stranger with too many inconsistencies in his character. Awkward one minute, self-assured the next, Kayla couldn’t help but wonder who he was.

And what he wanted.

She darted a glance across the room. He might have been prepared to walk into a photo shoot instead of her place of business. His blond-streaked hair had been slicked back, the bottom curling around his collar as if fighting the stiff hold he’d tried to maintain. The cut was longer than most nine-to-fivers preferred and added a dangerous edge to his appearance. The hard look in his eyes seemed to verify that impression. The perfectly sculpted features were at odds with the man inside. Mr. Kane McDermott had been around life’s many corners more than a few times.

He wasn’t the ordinary man who frequented her aunt and uncle’s establishment. Her establishment, she reminded herself. The man was a paying customer, and that meant she had to quit dissecting him and get down to business.

“Can I get you a cold drink?” she asked.

He leaned against the wall, one shoulder propped against the scarred wooden paneling. His potent gaze never strayed from hers. “How about I buy you a drink?” he asked in that seductive voice. “I mean…oh, hell. I can’t pull this off.”

“Pull what off? What’s going on?”

“I can’t pretend I’m a geek in need of training.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s the services we offer?”

“Let her be Charmed!?” he asked, repeating her aunt’s company slogan. “It was on the pamphlet my friend gave me.”

“I see. Well, we’ve advanced beyond those days. Not that we can’t offer basic etiquette lessons if you need them, but…What do you mean you can’t pull this off? That you can’t pretend you’re a geek in need of training?” she asked warily, steering the conversation back to her main concern. It wasn’t like her to be sidetracked by a good-looking man-which made this one all the more dangerous.

“A friend of mine sent me here. He attended one of your dance classes last year. Your name is too unique for me to be mistaken.”

She narrowed her gaze. “What’s your friend’s name?” Kayla asked.

“John Fredericks. Says he nearly flunked out of Ballroom Dancing.”

She rolled her eyes, remembering the lessons her aunt had insisted Charmed! offer. Kayla never did understand how they filled a class. “That’s because he had two left feet and was preoccupied with landing a date for New Year’s Eve.” She couldn’t see the good-natured but shy man as a friend of Kane McDermott’s, but apparently appearances were deceiving. If John and Kane were friends, Kane had just handed her a reference she could trust. “How is he?” she asked.

“His company sent him overseas. He said to ask your aunt for tips on dating French women,” Kane said with a grin. “For the next time he calls.”

Kayla felt a pang of regret. “She’d have been glad to give him advice. She liked John, too.”

“What happened?” Kane asked.

“She and my uncle were killed a few months ago.”

“Together?”

“Yes.” Tears stung behind her eyes, as they did each time she thought of the accident and the aunt with whom she’d had so much in common. They shared an above-average IQ as well as a special relationship, due in large part to the fact that her aunt understood the oddity of being too smart.

She shook off the memories and focused on her visitor. “The police said they skidded in the rain and hit a tree.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been rough…losing both of them at once.”

“I didn’t know my uncle well. They’d only been married a little over a year, but at least he made her happy before she-” Kayla stopped, realizing she was confiding in a total stranger.

“I’m sorry.” He paused. “John will be sorry, too.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her gaze before meeting his stare once more. “But my aunt being gone doesn’t change the facts.”

“Which are?”

“You came in here pretending to be something you’re not.”

He flinched. “And that was wrong. But John…he thought we’d hit it off.” He glanced down at his hands.

“Why didn’t you just say that when you came in?”