Wedding Willies

It was that robustly healthy physique that suddenly spurred the memory of the newspaper article that had been her first exposure to Ad Walker and she seized that to make conversation with.

“I heard about you and Cutty saving that family from their burning house and about you both getting hurt. How are you after getting beamed?”

Ad smiled. “Shouldn’t that be beaned?”

“As I recall you didn’t get hit with a bean, you got hit with a beam,” she said, smiling to let him know her play on words had been just that.

“I’m as good as new.” He tapped on his head as if knocking on a door. “Hard head.”

“Not hard enough to keep you out of the hospital for a couple of days—or so I heard.”

“I’m okay now, though. But thanks for asking.”

“Kira said Cutty got the cast off his ankle last week and he’s doing all right, too,” Kit said, trying to keep things going.

“He did. And the burned house has been repaired, and the family we dragged out of it has moved back in, and even the dog’s singed tail looks normal again. It’s as if it all never happened.”

“Except that as a result of it I no longer have my best friend living across the hall from me,” Kit pointed out as a waitress served her meal.

When she’d thanked the woman, Kit shot another sly smile in Ad’s direction and added, “Of course I blame you for that.”

Ad laughed. “Me? What did I do?”

“You talked to Kira about Cutty and that was instrumental in her decision to pursue her relationship with him.”

“Ah.” Ad’s engaging grin said that he realized she was only teasing him. But rather than commenting on the subject of the part he’d played in his friend’s romance, he nodded at her plate with his chin. “How’s your food?” he asked.

Kit had tasted both the beer-battered, deep-fried cod and the French fries and could honestly say, “It’s the best fish-and-chips I’ve ever had. But don’t think it makes up for costing me my best friend.”

“Doesn’t it make up for it a little?”

Was he flirting with her?

Had she been flirting with him?

Kit wasn’t sure on either count. But she was enjoying the exchange just the same.

“It makes up for it very little,” she countered.

“Hmm. Well, as I understand it, you did some encouraging of your own when it came to the fork in the road for Kira and Cutty. Kira told me you opened her eyes to some things that got her to thinking and ultimately coming back here to Cutty.”

“It was already too late by the time I got in on this. I just had to roll with things,” Kit claimed. “So I still blame you.”

Okay, maybe that had sounded slightly flirtatious.

Stop it! she told herself.

“I guess I’ll have to think of a way to make it up to you,” Ad conceded with an innuendo-laden tone of his own.

Kit played along with skepticism. “That’s a tall order.”

“I love a challenge,” he said.

His aquamarine eyes glinted with mischief and held hers in a spell that left Kit completely unaware of anything or anyone else around them.

So completely unaware that she only realized her friend was standing right beside the table when she heard, “Umm, are we interrupting something?”

Ad seemed as surprised as Kit felt to discover that Kira Wentworth and Cutty Grant had joined them.

“Kira!” Kit exclaimed, jumping to her feet to cover her own preoccupation with a man she had no business being preoccupied with.

Kira gave her a hug and said, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t meet your bus! I made you come all the way to Montana, and I wasn’t even there when you got here. But Mel fell against the corner of the fireplace in the new house and cut her forehead. We had to take her in for stitches.”

“I know, Ad told me. It’s okay,” Kit said.

But Kira went on anyway. “I couldn’t leave her. She was scared and upset and she doesn’t like anything to do with doctors as it is, let alone having to get three stitches, poor thing. And then we decided that rather than push it, we should just get the girls home and put them to bed and call the sitter to stay with them after we got them to sleep for the night.”

“I totally understand. You needed to do what was best for the babies. Really, it was no big deal. I’m just glad to see you now,” Kit assured.

Ad had risen to his feet when Kit had and he’d been very busy pulling two chairs from another table.

“What can I get you guys?” he asked then. “Something to eat? To drink?”

“I’ll have a beer,” Cutty said.

“Nothing for me,” this from Kira. “I just want Kit to meet Cutty.”

While Ad got Cutty’s beer Kira introduced Kit and Cutty and by the time that was accomplished and the four of them were situated around the small table whatever it was that had been going on between Kit and Ad Walker before Kira’s and Cutty’s appearance had been put to an end.

But as happy as Kit was to see her best friend and to meet the man who had made Kira nearly glow with delight, as happy as Kit was to know that their baby daughter was okay, there was still a tiny speck of regret lurking deep down in her.

A spark of regret that had something to do with Ad Walker.

And with that interruption of whatever it was that had been going on between them.

Chapter Two

A fter a night of tossing and turning, Ad was up early Sunday morning. Not only was he up, he was in the kitchen of his apartment rushing to fix a big breakfast, keeping a vigilant eye out the window over the sink that afforded him a view of the alley—and the landing he shared with Kit—and silently berating himself for all of it.

The tossing and turning hadn’t been simply an ordinary restless night. He hadn’t been up since the crack of dawn just because he was an early riser. The breakfast he was making was double what he could eat and he wasn’t in a hurry because he was hungry. And he wasn’t watching the weather change through that window.

Kit MacIntyre—she was the reason for everything.

He’d had a bad night’s sleep because he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, and dreaming about her had woken him up before his alarm had gone off in the morning.

He was making double the food so he would have an excuse to invite her to breakfast.

He was hurrying to do it and keeping an eye out for her to make sure she didn’t go down to the restaurant before he had the chance to convince her to come to his place instead.

And those were all absolutely the wrong reasons for everything. He just couldn’t seem to help himself.

But then it wasn’t every day that he met someone he hit it off with the way he’d hit it off with Kit. Someone he felt so comfortable with. Someone who—unless he was mistaken—had been pretty relaxed with him, too.

Conversation hadn’t been a struggle. They’d fallen easily into teasing each other. Into joking around. Their whole time together had been… Well, fun. It was as simple as that.

But simple or not, that hadn’t happened for him in a long while.

Oh, sure, it was easy enough to talk to other women he knew. To tease them and joke around with them. But last night, with Kit, there had been an added element to it. A different dynamic.

Attraction.

Okay, he admitted it. He’d felt an attraction to Kit.

Much as he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to.

What had he sworn to himself after Lynda?

No out-of-towners.

It wasn’t a difficult concept. He didn’t want to get involved with any woman who had a life and ties outside Northbridge. Certainly no one who had a whole business somewhere else.

So what the hell was he doing? he asked himself as he began to scramble eggs.

He took another peek out the window in the direction of the studio apartment. That simple gesture was enough to put the picture of Kit into his head even though there was no sign of her.

It was a phenomena that had been happening since she’d left him in the restaurant the night before. Every detail of the way Kit looked would pop into his head even when he was trying not to think about her or trying to talk himself out of the things she’d roused in him. Out of the blue the image of her would invade in bright, living color. And it certainly wasn’t helping anything.

How could it when he liked the way she looked so damn much?

That was somewhat of a puzzler all on its own.

He usually went for the surfer-girl types—sleek, sun-streaked blond hair; healthy tans that spoke of athletic, outdoorsy interests; long legs that went on forever.

And that wasn’t Kit.

Kit had crazy-wild espresso-colored hair that made her look a little untamed. And it framed pale, flawless, alabaster skin that didn’t seem to have ever seen the unblocked sun. Plus she wasn’t particularly leggy. How could she be when she was barely more than three or four inches over five feet tall?

But still it all worked for her.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone with features that fine and delicate. With cheekbones that high. With a nose that thin and impeccably shaped. With lips that were a perfect mix of full and pink and perfect. With dark, purplish blue eyes.

Violet—that’s what they were. The color of the flowers on that bush his mother loved so much. Blue-violet eyes. Big, round, sparkling blue-violet eyes with the longest, thickest black lashes….

Ad sighed a long sigh.

She also had a terrific little body. Tight and compact with breasts that had drawn his attention and thoughts more than once, and a rear end that would just fit in his hands….

Yeah. He definitely liked the way she looked.

But she lives in Denver, he reminded himself. She has a business in Denver. She’s only here until after the wedding.

That reminder was supposed to be the antidote.

But all it had accomplished was to leave him thinking about how he had the whole week with Kit right next door.

“You’re just asking for misery,” he muttered in warning. The kind of misery he’d suffered before. The kind of misery he was determined not to ever suffer again.

So he knew that what he should do was eat this breakfast by himself, not see Kit any more than necessary while she was here, and squelch the hell out of that mental picture of her that kept raising things he didn’t want raised.

No doubt about it, that’s what he should do.

Except that just then he heard the door on the studio apartment open and close.

And did he do what he should do? Did he ignore it and count himself lucky not to have to see her first thing this morning?

No, he didn’t.

He dropped everything to charge to his own door and fling it open before any better judgment had a chance to take hold.

“Oh, you scared me,” Kit said, pressing a hand to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She had on a pair of white short-shorts that made him think twice about the notion that she didn’t have long legs, and a red cap-sleeved T-shirt that fit tight enough to give him pause. And her hair was a loose cascade of curls and waves, and she looked all fresh-scrubbed and…

And wow!

It took him a moment to remember what he was doing and get back on track.

“I wanted to catch you before you hit the restaurant for breakfast,” he explained. “I thought maybe you’d like to share mine.”

“That’s nice,” she said, making him realize just then that he even liked the sound of her voice—a soft, sexy voice that went on to say, “Kira called a little while ago and said she’d be here to pick me up earlier than we planned last night. I’m going down to meet her now. Thanks, though.”

“Sure. Anytime,” Ad answered as if it didn’t matter to him one way or another. Which was how it was supposed to be. But wasn’t.

“Does the restaurant close early tonight since it’s Sunday?” she asked then.

“Yeah, at eight.”

“I was thinking that if that was the case maybe tonight would be a good night for me to bake the cakes. I always do them ahead anyway and freeze them, and if the kitchen will be free—”

“Tonight would be good,” Ad assured her. “I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right, with the place closed you can have free rein.”

She seemed to hesitate slightly before she said, “I was also thinking that—if it wouldn’t be a huge hassle for you and you don’t have other plans—it might help if you’re there.”

“You want me to play assistant pastry chef?”

“No, but you could point out where the bowls and utensils are, how to work your mixer, how long your oven takes to preheat, if there are any hot spots—things like that. I just don’t know the workings of your kitchen.”

“Sure. No problem,” he said as if he wasn’t already looking forward to being alone with her.

“You don’t have other plans?” she asked.

“Tallying up weekend receipts—but I think they can wait.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nope.”

“Great. I’ll see you tonight, after eight, then.”

“I’ll be here.”

Horn dog. You’re just a damn horn dog, Walker, he chastised himself.

Kit headed down the stairs then and Ad’s eyes went with her, riding the small swell of the pockets of her shorts and sliding along the backs of smooth thighs and trim calves all the way to thin ankles and bare feet cushioned by a pair of sandals that exposed painted toenails.

“Have a nice day in the meantime,” she called to him.

“You, too,” he responded in a voice that was huskier than it should have been.

Denver. She lives in Denver. Remember Lynda and that year and after that year…

But nothing did the trick.

Ad was still looking forward to tonight. After eight…

Standing in front of Ad’s restaurant waiting for Kira to pick her up, Kit felt more self-conscious than she had since she was a gawky teenager in high school.

What had she been thinking to wear these shorts? she demanded of herself.

She’d bought them on a whim, without trying them on, and then brought them home to realize when she did slip into them that there was no way she was ever going to wear them. They were just too short.

But she hadn’t paid a lot for them and she also hadn’t had the time to return them, so she’d packed them to bring to Northbridge with her, thinking that maybe the teenage baby-sitter Kira referred to frequently would like them.

Yet there Kit was, wearing those shorts herself.

And feeling really stupid in them.

And even more stupid for why she was in them.

She’d brought perfectly nice clothes with her. Perfectly sensible, tasteful clothes. Clothes that she looked good in and felt comfortable wearing.

But when she’d surveyed them this morning to choose an outfit for today they’d all seemed so lifeless, so dull, so ordinary.

Not that the clothes had changed. It was just that she’d been under the influence.

No, she hadn’t been drinking mimosas for breakfast or anything. She’d been under the influence of Ad Walker.

Of course he had no idea he was having any effect on her. But still he’d influenced her choice because it had been with him in mind that she’d opted for these dumb shorts. With him in mind and with the overwhelming desire to have his eyes pop right out of their sockets when he saw her.

And she just wanted to kick herself for it.

Yes, she’d enjoyed the reaction she’d gotten when he’d seen her a few minutes earlier. She’d even liked that his voice had suddenly gotten huskier.

But honestly, what was the point? It wasn’t as if she wanted to start anything with Ad. It wasn’t as if she should care whether or not he noticed her at all.

He was just a guy. The best friend of her best friend’s fiancé. They were going to be in a wedding together. They would see each other off and on this week in connection with that, and then they would go their separate ways.

So why did having him notice her, having him like what he was seeing, feel like such a big deal to her?

And that wasn’t the only question she asked herself. There were more to go with that one.

Like, why had he been on her mind almost since the minute she’d set eyes on him? And why had she gone to bed last night wondering where on the other side of their shared wall he might be sleeping himself? And in what? And why had he been the first thing she’d thought about when she’d woken up this morning?

Okay, she reasoned, she’d met an attractive man—a man so powerfully attractive that he’d canceled out her better judgment and the lessons she had learned, and caused her to backslide.

But that didn’t mean that it had to go any farther than giving in to the impulse to wear these shorts.

She just wouldn’t let anything else like this happen from here on. As soon as she got to Kira’s house she would borrow something from her friend, take off the shorts and get rid of them forever. And she would make sure that she kept everything—including Ad Walker—in perspective.

She was only in Northbridge for this week. And Ad Walker was nothing more than one of several members of the wedding party. Someone she needed to be polite and cordial to, and nothing more.

So what if he had incredible aquamarine eyes, and a chiseled chin, and a body that was big and muscular and irresistible enough to weaken women’s knees from coast to coast?

So what if her knees felt a little weak just picturing him in her mind? So what if her pulse picked up a little speed at the thought that she was going to get to spend some time alone with him tonight?

Where she could sneak peeks at that fabulous derriere of his. And hear his voice. And his laugh. And make him smile so she could see those deep dimples that creased his cheeks when he did….

Maybe she should keep the shorts on…

No! No! No! she silently shrieked at herself when she realized where her thoughts had wandered. Again.

She had to stop doing that. She had to stop drifting off into those mini-daydreams and fantasies of Ad Walker. She had to keep her focus on the wedding, on Kira. She had to remember that when it came to men—no matter how handsome or personable or sexy or interesting or funny or fun—she had to pass. She had to. She’d made the decision to suspend her men-privileges for good reason and she intended to stick to it.

No matter how difficult sticking to her guns might be with a man like Ad Walker right under her nose.

Just then a station wagon pulled up to the curb in front of her. Kira was behind the wheel, and Kit nearly leaped into the passenger seat when the car stopped.

“I need to borrow some more conservative shorts or some jeans or something,” she announced without even saying hello.

“Okay,” Kira said, sounding confused.

“This is the first time I’ve had these on and I don’t like them.”

“They are pretty short,” Kira agreed. “But I can wait while you go up and change if you want. There’s no hurry.”

There might not be any hurry but if Kit went back upstairs to change that would mean she might run into Ad. And if she ran into Ad she might have to explain what she was doing. And he might realize she’d temporarily lost her mind. Over him.

But rather than saying any of that to Kira, Kit said, “I hate to go all the way through the restaurant. I’ll just wear something of yours and you can see if your baby-sitter wants these. I’ll need a rubber band to put my hair up, too. I shouldn’t have left it down today. It’ll drive me crazy.”

“Okay,” Kira repeated. “Are you all right?”

Apparently either what Kit had said or the fact that she sounded desperate spurred her friend’s concern or curiosity.

“Just uncomfortable in these shorts,” Kit lied.

Uncomfortable in the shorts and in her skin and with just being in the same town Ad Walker was in.

“Okay,” Kira said a third time, still with a query in her voice.

But at least she put the car into motion and drove Kit away from the general proximity of Ad Walker.

Unfortunately for Kit, though, even distance from the man didn’t dilute her response to him or the fact that she was going to be seeing him again that evening.

Which brought a tiny tingle of excitement at the prospect.

Excitement she knew she should absolutely not be feeling.

Under ordinary circumstances she would have confided in Kira everything she was thinking—and doing—in regard to Ad Walker. They would have talked about it all, laughed about it, aired it out, and she would likely have felt better. Kira would also likely have put it into perspective, which would have helped Kit understand what was going on and that might have allowed her to beat into submission the fledgling, unwanted attraction to him.

But despite spending all day and through dinner that evening with Kira, Kit didn’t get the opportunity to talk to her best friend privately.

During the ten-minute drive to Kira and Cutty’s new house, Kira laid out a hectic schedule for that day and for the rest of this last week before the wedding. And when they reached the two-story colonial that Kira and Cutty and the twins had moved into, it was a beehive of activity and commotion.

Cutty was there trying to look after the busy nineteen-month-old babies who were into everything. There were plumbers who were remodeling one of the bathrooms, and there was also an elderly woman named Betty to help Kit and Kira make little bundles of nuts and candy for each place setting at the reception tables.

Betty had been Cutty’s housekeeper and nanny before Kira’s appearance in his life, and had initially been a source of trouble for Kira. But now that Kira and Cutty were marrying, Betty only helped out with the twins and the house on a part-time basis, and she and Kira had become friends.

With so many people around and so much to do, Kit never found a minute to tell her friend that she was having problems keeping Ad Walker off her mind.

And then the day was over and on the drive back to the restaurant Kira outlined what needed to be done the next day, not giving Kit the chance to tell her anything before dropping her off in the alley at the foot of the steps that led up to the apartments.

So Kit was on her own.

And facing an evening of baking cakes in Ad’s restaurant kitchen…with the delectable Ad.

She went upstairs to the studio apartment, slipping inside without seeing the man who, even throughout the well-occupied day, had haunted her.

But maybe, she began to think as she closed the door behind her, she’d just built this out of proportion in her mind. She hadn’t spent a whole lot of time with him, she reasoned. And she’d been traveling and was tired. Really tired. Everything might have combined to skew her image of Ad Walker. To make him seem better than he really was.

And then maybe her imagination had just kept it going. Expanded on it. And maybe the end result was that Ad Walker had seemed more fantastic than he actually was.

Although he had looked good when she’d seen him for those few minutes this morning….

But now that she was rested, she expected to see that he honestly was just a guy like any other guy. That he wasn’t anything special. And then she would be cured of whatever she’d been infected by.

She was convinced of it.

Feeling more equipped to see him again, Kit set about getting ready.

She’d borrowed a pair of shorts from Kira but decided that her legs should be covered completely before she encountered Ad again. The less skin that showed, the better. So she slipped out of them and into a pair of jeans.

The chef’s coat she’d brought with her provided coverage of the red T-shirt, and she put it on over both jeans and shirt, telling herself that it was good that she looked boxy and sexless in it.

She left her hair trussed up on the crown of her head in the rubber band she’d taken from Kira, but she did give in to the inclination to refresh her blush and mascara—telling herself it was harmless.

Once she’d done that, she took the shopping bag containing her bakeware, utensils and some ingredients, and went back down the steps.