Kiss Me Katie! & Hug Me Holly! (17 page)

“What's family style?”

“I'll serve one main dish, the same to everyone.”

He nodded, looking impressed. “Clever. Now all you need is one little thing.”

“What's that?”

“Food.
Good
food.”

She was halfway to the kitchen. She'd really intended to ignore him, but something in his tone caught her, something she couldn't ignore. After all, she knew why
she
didn't like
him.
He was too sure of himself, too laid-back, too country, too…utterly, wildly, absolutely
male
for her.

But what she didn't know was… “Why don't you like me?”

Her question surprised both of them. He didn't try to deny it, or offer empty platitudes, which oddly enough only increased her need to know.

“What I feel doesn't matter,” he said finally.

It shouldn't, but it did.

“It's not as if you're going to stick around,” he added.

Oh, but that cut, and cut deep. Too many people in her life had thought that about her, and okay, yes, maybe up until this point in her life, she'd lived up to that by constantly being on the move, but dammit not this time. Not anymore.

For once, just for once, she wanted someone to believe in her, to encourage her. But it wouldn't be this man, and no way would she let him see how he'd hurt her feelings. “You don't know me,” she said quietly.

“I know enough.”

And he knew her “type.” Or so he thought. Well, too bad; Holly Stone didn't belong to a type. “I'm not leaving until my job here is done, if it's any of your business. The place is going to sell sooner or later, and when it does, I'll go, but not before. I made a promise.”

“Do you always follow through with your promises?”

He seemed doubtful, which only stirred her temper all the more. “Why are you here, Sheriff? I didn't call you, you're obviously not here to eat, so tell me. Why do you keep showing up?”

He shook his head, either unwilling or unable to answer.

“Then why don't you do us both a favor and go?” She let out a tight smile. “I've got a meal to cook.”

Without waiting to see what he did, she turned, intending to make a great, dramatic exit. Only it was cut short when she tripped over the dog, landing sprawled out on the linoleum floor.

Riley was there in a flash, scooping her up. “You okay?” he demanded.

She blinked up at him. She'd lost a heel. Her hair had slipped from its elegant barrette, and her skirt had risen up, exposing more of herself—and her lingerie—than she'd planned on. But even more important, his arms were around her. In fact, she was practically in his lap. No, wait—she
was
in his lap, and oh my, but he felt big and hard and strong. And warm, very warm. She liked warm.

“Holly?”

Who would have thought he could feel so good?

“Holly!”

“I'm fine,” she said, forcing her thoughts away from the warm and fuzzy, to the realistic fact that she'd just humiliated herself, again. “Let me up.”

As if he didn't believe her, he looked her over. His gaze didn't miss anything, not her rioted hair,
her probably smudged makeup, the skirt that had risen so high on her thigh she was still giving him a peekaboo hint at her peach lace panties. She yanked at the hem but not before his jaw clenched and his arms tightened. His eyes darkened.

And time stood still.

“You look…different like this,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Different…how?”

He touched a strand of her hair, then her cheek. His gaze ran slowly over her body, leaving flames licking at her skin everywhere he looked. “Less princesslike,” he murmured. “
Way
less princesslike.”

Then he was withdrawing his hands from her, standing, backing away, turning toward the door. “Good luck with dinner later,” he said gruffly, and he was gone.

Holly was left sitting there, tingling, uncertain as to what had just happened. But then the dog licked her face—
licked her face!
—and she screeched, leaping to her feet. “Yuck! Stop it!”

He sat, panting, and cocked his head at her.

“You have breath like a sewer.” She walked to the front door and held it open. “You're outta here, too.”

But because he looked so…cute, she softened
her voice. “Go on now, outside with you.” Those huge, soulful eyes tore at her, but she lifted her chin and pretended not to notice. “Out.”

And just like the sheriff, out he went.

 

S
EVERAL HOURS LATER
, Holly was well on her way to having dinner going. She'd run back down to the grocery store—she really needed to get a list going and order properly—and had picked up what she needed. She hoped.

But more thrilling, thanks to her sign, she had customers!

Not many, but there were at least eight people out there, including both Dan, the huge mechanic, and Mindy, the librarian. They were all seated, drinking, waiting for the special of the evening. Now all that was left was for the spaghetti to finish cooking, her sauce to get a bit hotter, and the salad to fully chill.

No one had to know that she'd actually enjoyed making the sauce, though she'd not done anything original, she'd followed the cookbook to the letter. The salad was from a premixed bag, but that had been because she hadn't had time for anything else. She was so nervous she could hardly see straight.

But she was used to hiding her nerves.

Again, she went out front, checking on drink
status, smiling at anyone and everyone who would look at her, and shooing the damn cat off the counter.

Then Mindy pushed up her glasses, stood up and said, “I smell gas.”

Across the room, Dan sniffed loudly and nodded. “Yep, definitely gas.” He looked at Holly and shook his head grimly. “I should have known you were trying to kill me.”

Holly lifted her nose and sniffed…. Oh boy, that was definitely a rotten egg sort of smell, and she couldn't have messed up the spaghetti sauce
that
badly, no way.

Besides, she knew from somewhere that they put that horrible smell into natural gas so you could tell when it was…
leaking!

She scrambled for the phone, thinking she'd call 911, but Riley was simply right across the street. He'd know what to do. Before she could send someone for him, everyone was screaming and yelling and running for the door.

Two minutes later, Riley came striding in, moving like lightning but looking cool and battle-ready.

And worried as hell until he saw her.

She didn't want to think about that, didn't want
to wonder why he looked so relieved at the sight of her.

“Out,” he said firmly, grabbing her arm. The image of authority. “We're evacuating until this is handled.”

“But—”

“For once, princess, listen. Until I figure out what you've done, and make sure your very nice-looking rear end is safe in here, you'll wait outside with everyone else.”

He thought her rear end was nice.

Oh, and that she was a walking disaster zone.

Just another day in the life of Holly Stone.

T
HE GAS LEAK
had been caused by a blown pilot in the stove. Easily fixed, thought Riley.

The panic among Café Nirvana's customers was also easily fixed when Holly offered them drinks on the house.

All Holly's problems—fixed.

But the image of her after a long day of work—hair adorably messy, lipstick eaten off, sleeves shoved up and a spot of sauce on her hip—wouldn't leave Riley's mind.

Not so easily fixed.

What was wrong with him? She was everything he'd never wanted; she was big-city sophistication, she was snooty, manipulating. Stubborn as hell.

And yet he dreamed about her all night; long, haunting, erotic dreams. She wore peach lace, barely there panties, dammit. No wonder he woke up hot, bothered and horny as hell.

At least it was Sunday, his day off.

The physical demands of his ranch chores usu
ally helped him wind down from a long week. They cleared his mind, and being outdoors, whether he was shoveling horse manure or riding hard and fast over the land, cleared his heart and soul, as well.

By midmorning he'd made some overdue repairs to his barn and had mended some fences on the far north side of his property. He was still hot and bothered, but at least it was from hard work this time, and not the mental images of Holly Stone, wearing nothing but those lace panties and a hungry expression.

And her expression
had
been hungry. Not a physical hunger, but something deeper, something that came uncomfortably close to mirroring his own yearning.

Deciding he needed food to fuel his brain instead of silly, romantic images, he headed toward the house and prayed Maria was still there. He stripped off his dirt-streaked shirt and kicked off his shoes, hoping to get on her good side by not tracking dust into the house. Maybe he could look extra pathetic and squeeze a meal out of her.

He was in luck.

He could hear her in his kitchen, muttering and swearing in Spanish. He could also hear…
Holly?
Wearer of peach panties?

“I just asked you how you made the gravy so creamy, you don't have to act like it's a federal offense not to know,” he heard Holly say in that cool, cultured voice.

Maria's voice wasn't so cool. “Why are you here, anyway? The sheriff won't be happy to see you.”

“How do you know?” Holly asked. “Actually, it could go either way.”

Maria sniffed. “And as for not knowing how to make gravy, it
is
a crime. How could you not have learned to cook? What is wrong with your mother?”

“She's…not exactly the cooking type.”

“No? How are you going to catch a man?”

Riley decided now was the time to enter the kitchen, before World War III could break out. He was immediately overcome by the delicious smell of the meal Maria had cooked, by the sight of the two women staring each other down over the steaming stove, and by the fact that he was straining to hear Holly's answer as to how she was going to catch a man.

Neither woman gave him a second glance. Maria, because she never gave him a second glance—unless he was making a mess or not rinsing his plate.

Holly because…who knew.

But she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Interesting, considering
she'd
shown up at
his
house.

“What's going on?” he asked. “Not that I mind finding two women in my kitchen, especially when there's food involved.”

“See?” Triumphant, Maria sent Holly a smirk and handed Riley a plate of food. “Ms. Stone was just going to tell me how to catch a man without basic cooking skills.”

Holly looked cool as a cucumber, until she happened to glance at him. Then she gave him a double take that had him looking down at himself, checking for toilet paper on his shoe.

He was still shirtless.

For a moment Holly's eyes glazed over. Her mouth opened, then carefully closed. And she purposely turned away from him. “Why would I want to catch a man?” she asked Maria, her voice oddly husky.

“Well, you are
not
going to catch him with your sweet tongue, that is certain,” Maria said, not very kindly.

“I'm not going to catch a man at all, thank you very much.”

Well, wasn't that interesting? He'd pegged her for a definite need-a-man-in-her-life type.

She looked at him again, quickly, but there was no mistaking the flash of uncertainty in those baby blues.

A distinctively uneasy feeling went through him. That had definitely been vulnerability he'd seen in her expression. But Holly Stone was never vulnerable.

Was she?

And if he'd been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about?

“You are not interested in marriage?” Maria was scandalized and she stared at Riley in shock when she handed him his plate. “She's not interested in marriage.”

“Let's just say marriage isn't interested in me,” Holly said, staring down at the bubbling pot on the stove. “Now, can you teach me to make this gravy as good as you, or what?”

The look on Maria's face was priceless. She didn't know whether to hold on to her resentment of the younger woman or be flattered. Watching her torn emotions, enjoying her speechlessness, Riley let out his first grin of the day.

“What's so funny?” Maria demanded.

If she knew, she'd take away his food. “Nothing.”

“It is something.”

He bit his lip, but the laugh escaped anyway. “I was just wondering if I could learn that trick sometime, the trick of making you silent.”

Maria glared at him and reached for the plate she'd just handed him. “You give me that, you should go hungry.”

“You said I shouldn't,” he said, holding tight to his food. “Remember? You were worried about me, I need my food, you said, I need the nutrition.”

“You. You are a snake.”

“A hungry snake.”

Maria let him keep his food. She looked at Holly. “Okay, maybe if you like my cooking so much, I can teach you,” she said gruffly. “My gravy is the best in the world. You can pour it over biscuits.
Handmade
biscuits, not some store bought ones that land like concrete in your stomach.”

Holly smiled. Not that fake one, but a real, down-to-earth smile that transformed her into…a human being.

A beautiful one.

One Riley couldn't take his eyes from, even though he wasn't the recipient of that smile. No doubt, she was still screaming “city” with every step she took, but somehow, over the past few
days, it had stopped amusing him and started to actually get to him.

Any man would feel that way, he assured himself. She wore a short denim skirt that showed off the longest, greatest set of legs he'd ever seen, and a sun-yellow tank blouse that hugged the nicest, curviest set of—

“Are you going to stare at her all day or are you going to eat?” Maria wanted to know. “Because that dish, it's got to—”

“Soak.” Riley cleared his throat and concentrated on his food. “I know.”

Holly was looking at him, shock on her face, as if it hadn't occurred to her that he could like the mere sight of her. It was the second time he realized she wasn't quite as confident as she wanted the world to believe. Her eyes were big, and strangely unguarded. Her hands clenched together and that lower lip, the carefully glossed lower lip he'd dreamed about, was being dragged against her teeth.

It reminded him of the day before, when she'd looked so uncharacteristically flustered, so absolutely…adorable. That, he realized,
that
had been when he'd stopped being amused by her looks, and instead, had become intrigued by Holly-the-person. He suspected she hid a lot inside, certainly most
of her emotions. His sudden yearning to know what they were, and why she kept them so protected startled him.

So did the simultaneous urge to surge up, grab her, toss her on his table and follow her down. He wanted to kiss that bottom lip, wanted to nibble off every bit of the remaining gloss, then work his way over her jaw to her neck. And when he was done there, he'd work his way down, down, down—

“Your mind is in the gutter,” Maria said, shaking her wooden spoon beneath his nose. “Eat.”

He was still looking at Holly when he brought another bite up to his lips.

Holly was looking at him, too, she could do little else. For the first time in…well, forever, her thoughts were not her own to control. She couldn't stop looking at him. Dammit, he needed to comb his tousled hair. He needed to shave. He really needed to put on a shirt—it should be illegal to look that good without one. And she couldn't stop wondering exactly what he was thinking…

She needed a lobotomy.

That explained it. Honestly. Because there was no reason to wonder what he was thinking. No reason at all. He meant nothing to her. More important,
she
meant nothing to
him.
In light of that,
she gave Maria a shaky grin. “I'll write down the recipe as you give it to me. Soon as I give back—” she dug into her purse “—the sheriff's wallet.”

“The sheriff's wallet?”

“My wallet?”
Riley asked at the same time as Maria, rising. “How did you get that?”

Maria grabbed Riley's plate and put it in the sink. “Do you need a witness when you arrest her for theft, Sheriff?”

“Uh, no. I can handle it, thanks, Maria. Great food.”

“As always.”

“As always,” he repeated dutifully.

She actually gave him a small smile before turning to Holly. “If you're not in jail, I will come to the café later.”

If she was in jail, it'd be for ogling charges. Ogling-the-sheriff charges.

“I will show you some things in that kitchen,” Maria added, grabbing her purse and keys. “Things other than low-fat crapola. Though I hear the spaghetti sauce smelled good. Too bad no one got a chance to taste it before you almost blew them all up.”

Holly let that go for the more important fact. “You'll come help me?” She could have hugged
the ornery, older woman, if she'd been the hugging type. “Thank you!”

Maria nodded her head once, regally, and left her alone with Riley.

Alone.
Please don't make an idiot of yourself in front of him this time, she told herself.

It would be harder than she thought. According to what Maria had told her, Riley had been up since before dawn working outside. He didn't look it, didn't look anything but…fabulous.

And utterly, absolutely at home in his own skin, which by the way, was fabulous, too. “About your wallet,” she said, forcing her gaze up to meet his. “It must have happened during the gas leak.”

“What must have happened?”

“Well, later, in my apartment, I found the dog chewing on something and—”

“Wait.” Riley shook his head but took the wallet, which he set on the counter without even looking at it. “Dog? The same one from yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Let me get this straight. You claim you don't like animals. You also claim you don't even particularly like people, and you certainly don't like being out of the big city. And yet here you are, in Little Paradise, running a café where you have to
interact with people all day, and you've adopted both a dog and a cat.”

“They adopted me.”

“Really?” he murmured, smiling that warm, just-for-her smile. “I don't think so.”

“It's true.”

“You could lock them out.”

“Yes, but—
Yes,
” she whispered. She couldn't tell him she didn't have the heart. It would ruin her tough reputation. She needed that reputation, she used it like a cloak. “About your wallet—”

“You're here to help your parents, right? And yet they appear to—no offense—not be too concerned about you and your needs. You don't have any friends here, and you're out of your element. Some pretty big odds, Holly.”

“Look, I don't want to discuss this. I just wanted to give you back your wallet.” She tried to turn away, but he gently and very firmly set his hands on her shoulders.

“Know what I think?” he wondered.

“Ask me if I care.”

He smiled gently. “I think all your confidence and wisecracking is a front. I think in spite of your bravado, in spite of your best manipulations, everything is starting to slip through your fingers. I think you're learning something about yourself
here in the center of exactly nowhere, something that has nothing to do with trying to please your parents.”

“I didn't know you were a shrink.”

He smiled. “See? That's exactly the fake bravado I'd expect from you. But this isn't the big city, Holly. This is a small town, where people have known each other forever, and they care. They'd care about you, too, if you let them.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed to hide her wistfulness. “I wasn't born and raised here. People will never trust me.”

“You're wrong.”

She wanted to be; with all her heart she suddenly wanted to be.

“Just let them in,” he said, his voice suggesting that he cared, too. “That's all it would take.”

She thought he was going to add,
Let me in,
and in that moment, she might have, but she found her inner strength. She leaned on no one but herself, ever. She gestured to his wallet. “Aren't you even going to open it?”

He was disappointed in her change of conversation, and let it show. “No.”

“What if I stole your cash?”

“Did you?”

“Well, no.” She amused him with that, and she
schooled her features into an even mask of indifference. She was good at it by now, but Riley surprised her by being good at seeing right through her.

He came closer.

She was leaning against the counter and didn't have anywhere to back up to, so as he moved toward her all she could do was lift her chin and stare him down.