Love Enough For Two (Love Inspired) (9 page)

“Stella’s daughter?” A spark of interest sounded in his father’s voice. “Are you and Elizabeth Carlyle involved?”

The blatant approval in his father’s voice took Matt by surprise.

“Involved might be too strong a word,” Matt hedged.

His father no longer seemed in such a hurry to get off the phone. “Is she as pretty as her mother?”

“She’s blond.” Matt hoped Sierra wasn’t lying on her floor in need of medical attention while he was wasting time exchanging inane comments with his father. Still, past experience had taught him, it did no good to rush his dad.

“Ditzy?”

“No, she’s not. And that’s why I’m concerned. It’s not like her not to show.” Matt heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do you have the address or not?”

“Let me think.” Silence filled the phone lines for several long heartbeats. “I don’t have the address but I can give you directions. The house is an old Victorian just off Santa Barbara Street on Arrellaga. Tall hedges all around. You can’t miss it.”

Matt pictured the area in his mind. Arrellaga was close to downtown. He calculated the time it would take to get there. Not long, if he caught the lights and drove over the speed-limit.

“Thanks,” Matt said. “I appreciate the help.”

“Just one question,” Dix interjected, before Matt could click off. “Do you like the girl?”

Matt thought for a moment. “At this moment I’d like to throttle her. Does that count?”

His father’s robust laugh resounded over the phone lines. “Tells me all I need to know.”

The dial tone sounded and Matt swore softly. He was glad someone found this whole situation amusing because he didn’t.

Not for one minute.

S
ierra popped a leftover chocolate petit four into her mouth and sighed. Her mother really did fabulous things with pastries.

Grabbing a dishrag, Sierra moved to the refrigerator surface for a final touch-up. She glanced up at the clock on Libby’s kitchen wall.

Almost midnight. If she were Cinderella, she’d be just about to turn back into a scullery maid.

Glancing down at her faded blue jeans and well-washed UC Santa Barbara Gauchos T-shirt, Sierra smiled ruefully. Tonight she didn’t need to change back because she’d never gotten to be a princess. Despite her best intentions and a new dress, she’d ending up chucking her plans and staying home to help her mother.

If only I hadn’t stopped by Libby’s house…

After dropping Maddie off for an overnight play date with a friend, Sierra had swung by Libby’s to borrow some shoes. Instead of some sleek black pumps, she’d found her mother and Libby in the kitchen frantically trying to fill a last-minute order.

In addition to being Libby’s housekeeper, Peggy Summers also ran her own up-and-coming catering service. Business had really taken off right before last Christmas and the hectic pace had continued into the summer. Usually Sierra worked side by side with her mother but since she and Libby had switched places, assisting with the catering had become Libby’s responsibility. Unfortunately this last-minute crisis demanded far more than just two sets of hands.

Apparently the original caterer had backed out at the last minute, leaving the hostess in the lurch. The frantic woman had offered Peggy twice the going rate if she could step in. Though Libby let Peggy use her kitchen any time she needed it, Sierra’s mother had been hoping to save enough money to one day have her own catering facility. The income from this job would go a long way toward helping Peggy achieve that goal.

That’s why Sierra had pulled on an apron and pitched in without even being asked. By eleven, they were in good shape for the next day’s event.

Libby had been exhausted and Sierra had sent her to bed, saying one person could easily do the rest of the clean-up. Her mother, who’d have to be up at dawn tomorrow, had offered to stay but Sierra had sent her home, too.

Sierra didn’t mind the job or working alone. She’d always enjoyed taking something messy and making it shiny and new again. In fact, she’d probably had more fun spending the evening in the kitchen than she’d have had at the party, even with a handsome man at her side.

She stilled and the dishrag in her hand paused on the chrome finish of the refrigerator door.

I never called Matt.

Guilt swept over her. She’d promised she’d be at the front door of James Hanna’s house at eight. But she’d gotten so involved in helping her mother, she’d completely forgotten about the party. Her gaze slid to the clock.

It was too late to call now.

Too late to apologize.

Too late to find out firsthand what he’d meant by “be prepared.”

For a second she let herself imagine a different kind of evening. Instead of being elbow deep in flour, she’d have been in Matt’s arms. They would have laughed and danced and talked. He would have plied her with outrageous compliments that she wouldn’t have believed for a minute but that still would have made her feel all warm and gooey inside.

She’d have talked to people about the Center and they’d all have been enthusiastic and ready to open their wallets. The evening would have been a roaring success. Afterward Matt would have walked her to her car and kissed her until her head whirled. Then, like Cinderella, the clock would have struck twelve and she’d have gone home.

The thought brought her back to the present with a start and she snorted back a laugh. Matt Dixon was no Prince Charming. And, she was certainly no Cinderella.

Sierra finished wiping the refrigerator, gave the countertops another once-over and smiled in satisfaction. Seeing it now, you could never tell all the work that had gone on here this evening. Except…

Her gaze critically scanned the small kitchen rug at the base of the sink. It might be only her imagination but it looked like the tiny oval could benefit from a good shaking.

She stared a moment longer but, try as she might, Sierra couldn’t convince herself to leave this one last detail unattended. Picking up the rug, she folded it in half and went outside, making sure not even one speck of lint fell on Libby’s polished hardwood floors.

The veranda drew her like a magnet. The wide expanse of wood had once been her and Libby’s play area. When they were young, they’d draped blankets over the railing and made forts. When they were older the porch had been the place where she and Libby had perfected animal calls.

Sierra chuckled to herself, remembering the first time they’d demonstrated their newfound talent in front of Stella. They’d been about nine at the time and Libby had gone first, doing a fairly respectable chicken squawk. Sierra had followed with her version of a pig’s oink. Unlike Libby, who’d refused to flap her wings as they’d practiced, Sierra had taken a finger and lifted her nose so it resembled a pig’s snout and let loose with the loudest oink she could muster.

Libby’s mom had been clearly stunned by the realistic sounds. She didn’t applaud, but instead raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, and told them Peggy had cookies waiting for them inside on the dining-room table.

Sierra gave a melancholy sigh. Those were the good old days. Though she knew she should lock up and head home to bed, she couldn’t bring herself to move. It was a beautiful evening and the first time she’d had a chance to relax all day. The temperature hovered around sixty-five and the air was fresh with only the faintest hint of moisture. Sierra shook the rug then draped it carefully over the railing. Resting her elbows on the soft fibers, she leaned forward and stared out into the darkness.

Life had been so simple then. It hadn’t taken much to bring happiness: chocolate-chip cookies, a good book and a loud oink.

Sierra’s lips turned up in a smile. She hadn’t oinked in forever. At one time she’d been quite good. She wondered if it was like riding a bike, once you learned, you never forgot? Or was it like the French she’d learned in middle school? She’d never used it and now the only thing she could do was count to ten.

Of course, there was one way to find out….

Straightening to make sure she had the support of her diaphragm, Sierra put her finger to her nose and let out a big, bad oink. The shrill squeal split the air and down the block a dog barked in response.

Sierra smiled, pleased that she hadn’t lost her touch.

“Is that why you skipped the party?” The deep voice came from the shadows at the bottom of the steps. “So you could practice barnyard sounds?”

Sierra heart leaped to her throat and she grasped the railing to steady herself. “Matt. What are you doing here?”

Matt had come from the other side of the house only minutes before and caught sight of her standing on the veranda. His initial reaction had been relief; at least she wasn’t lying unconscious somewhere. The next was anger; she
had
stood him up.

The temptation had been strong to call out to her, but he’d resisted the impulse, waiting first to see if she was alone.

When no one appeared, he’d started toward her, only to stop dead in his tracks at the ungodly sound splitting the night air.

“What was that?” Matt gazed up at her from the steps leading to the porch. “It sounded just like a pig.”

“It
did
sound pretty realistic.” Sierra’s smile widened and pride filled her voice. “I guess it is like riding a bike—once you’ve mastered the technique you’ve got it for life.”

Matt ignored the comment and climbed the stairs, not waiting for an invitation. “It’s too bad California isn’t a big hog-calling state, or you could have a real career in front of you.”

Her gaze narrowed and suspicion filled her eyes. “Are you teasing me?”

“Maybe.” He found it impossible to keep from smiling. “That sound really threw me for a loop.”

Sierra’s lips curved upward in an answering smile. “We all need to be thrown off course once in a while.”

She looked so beautiful when she smiled that for a moment he could only stare. She didn’t need to be wearing an elegant evening gown to take his breath away. He paused, suddenly remembering why he was here. “About tonight—”

“I’m sorry about standing you up.” She gathered up the rug and shot him an apologetic glance. “How about I explain everything over a cup of cocoa?”

“Cocoa?”

“With marshmallows,” she added. “The real stuff. Not from a box.”

He shrugged and nodded, struck again by how lovely she looked in the moonlight. Her hair resembled spun gold and her eyes were wide and luminous. Her T-shirt and jeans accentuated her lean, curvy figure and sent his pulses racing.

“Take a seat.” She gestured with one hand to two chairs that flanked a rustic table. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

In a jiffy?

Matt shook his head, sauntered to the table and sat down. He leaned back and loosened his tie. Maybe he’d lied to his dad. Maybe Elizabeth Carlyle was a little bit ditzy. And maybe he was a little crazy for finding her so attractive.

True to her word, she returned several minutes later with two steaming mugs.

“Enjoy.” Sierra placed a cup before him, took her own and sat down.

The smell of rich chocolate mixed with the sweet scent of rapidly melting marshmallows tempted his taste buds. Though he’d always associated the drink with cold weather and roaring fires, he decided to give it a try.

“Delicious,” he admitted after taking a sip.

Sierra favored him with a smile. “My mother always said I made the best hot chocolate.”

Matt took another sip. Based on how his father had described Stella, he was surprised the woman even knew what a kitchen was, much less encouraged her daughter’s culinary endeavors.

“Don’t tell me you like to cook?” Try as he might, Matt couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“Very much.” Sierra nodded and took a sip of her own cocoa. A trace of the sticky sweetness coated her lips and she reached for her napkin.

But Matt was quicker. His fingers curved over hers and he plucked the napkin from her hand. “Allow me.”

Sierra smiled and puckered her lips.

Matt groaned. He’d wanted to talk things out before he kissed her, but nothing about this night was going as planned.

He dropped the napkin to the table, leaned forward and covered her mouth with his.

Matt had intended it to be a brief kiss. But the moment his lips met hers, all lucid thoughts fled. And when her hand traveled up his arm to his shoulder and her fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, the only thing that mattered was her.

Her lips were warm. Gentle fingers caressed his neck, making his heart beat hard and fast. When she started to pull away, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him.

“I’ve missed kissing you.” Sierra sighed as his mouth left hers, a soft regretful sigh that nudged at his already tenuous control.

“It seems like years,” he said.

Sierra stared at him, her eyes large and luminous in the moonlight. “I’m thinking this could be a hard habit to break.”

Matt smiled. He’d learned long ago that some habits weren’t worth breaking. It was all he could do not to pull her to him and convince her of that fact. But first, the question of why she’d stood him up needed to be answered.

But when her fingers laced through his hair and she lifted her face for another kiss, Matt decided it didn’t matter where she’d been, all that mattered was that she was here with him now.

Her breath fell outward on a soft sigh as his mouth covered hers. She tasted of marshmallow and chocolate, a sweet combination. He felt her hands lower to grip the lapels of his tux.

Matt angled his head and deepened the kiss.

Her lips parted and he unhurriedly claimed her mouth. They kissed for what seemed like forever and only when his hands tugged impatiently at the soft cotton of her T-shirt, pulling it loose from the waistband of her jeans, did she jerk back and push his hands away.

He met her gaze. “Let me stay with you tonight.”

Though the look in her eyes told him she was sorely tempted, she shook her head. “That can’t happen.”

“I don’t have to stay all night,” Matt said. “That’s something we can decide later.”

He moved toward her but Sierra stepped back and shifting her gaze downward, methodically tucked her shirt into the waistband of her jeans. When she looked up, Matt knew he was in trouble by the coolness in her eyes.

“Do you really want to spend the night with someone you barely know?” she asked.

He stared at her for a long moment, contemplating the best way to answer such a tricky question.

“I like you,” he said, finally.

Sierra tilted her head. “What is it you like about me?”

“First another kiss.” He trailed a finger up the bare skin of her arm. “All this talking is making me hungry.”

Sierra smiled and Matt’s hopes rose once, only to plummet when she removed his hand from her arm with a firm, deliberate gesture. “First we talk.”

Matt blew out a frustrated breath. There were so many things he liked about her that they’d be talking all night if he mentioned them all. And
talking
wasn’t what he wanted to be doing right now. “You’re upbeat and funny, not to mention incredibly beautiful.”

“But what about my views on current events, religion, politics?” she asked, returning his smile.

Matt shrugged.

“For all you know I could be a socialist,” she added.

“For all you know, I could be one,” he said, hoping to tease her out of this obsessive need to talk everything to death.

“Matt,” she said, a hint of warning in her tone.

“C’mon, Sierra.” He reached forward and took her hand, his thumb caressing her palm. “Don’t be so obstinate.”

“Obstinate?” She jerked back her hand.

The minute her voice rose and her eyes flashed, Matt knew it’d been the wrong thing to say.