Truth or Demon

That made sense—she guessed.

“My father’s brother actually married my mother’s sister.”

“Really?” Poppy said. “That’s kind of romantic.”

“Is it?” His completely confused expression was so male. Of course he would have never considered that romantic.

She laughed, until she realized he was staring at her, his expression strange. And unreadable. She sobered.

“So you need a store?”

He glanced down at himself, then made a pained expression. “Yes. That would be good.”

She thought of the best place to send him. “Well, there is a strip mall one stop away on the T. On the red line. That should have everything you need.”

He frowned. “Aren’t you going to go with me?”

Poppy hesitated, thinking of that manuscript sitting only half completed on her desk. Playing hooky was so not her.

“Umm—Ginger can’t go with you?”

Killian frowned, not answering right away. “She’s sleeping. You know, because she worked—late.” “Right.”

“So you aren’t going to leave me on my own, are you?” He smiled then, that breathtaking smile she’d imagined more than a few times this morning.

She glanced back to her office as if somehow the actual manuscript would give her permission to take a little time off. Shocker—it didn’t.

“Surely you can take an hour or so to help out a traveler in need.”

She debated for a moment, then released a pent-up breath. “Sure. I can take a little while.”

He smiled then, but when her eyes locked on to the handsome curve of his sculpted lips, he sobered.

She didn’t quite understand his reaction, but she didn’t allow herself to ponder it. She’d definitely been doing enough pondering about him as it was.

“Let me grab a sweater.” She turned, leaving him in the doorway. She refused to look at the pages of manuscript as she hurried through her office to her bedroom.

She wasn’t going to feel guilty. After all, she was helping a friend—well, an acquaintance—in need.

See, Killian told himself as he watched Poppy dash off, no sexy Poppy of his dreams. She was clad just as he’d expected in another T-shirt. This one sported an image of Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat. Along with her T-shirt, she wore a pair of faded jeans and fuzzy black-and-white socks. Her long hair was knotted messily on the top of her head.

Not a hint of the sexy vixen of his dream. And that, he told himself, was because dream Poppy was just that. Imaginary. A strange, unexplainable creation of his unconscious mind.

So he shouldn’t give it another thought. Period. He would stay focused on finding her a man. That was the best plan for all of them.

“Okay. Ready.” She returned to the door wearing a gray cable-knit sweater with big buttons. On her feet, she wore sneakers that looked more appropriate for a small boy.

Definitely not his type, he told himself as he watched her lock her door. Then she turned and smiled at him. He caught a glimpse of her dimple, and just like that, his body reacted, seeming to vibrate with awareness.

Okay, she was cute. Adorable, even—in a whimsical way. But still not his type. And adorable would make it easier to find her a match.

“Do you think we could stop and get a bite to eat first?” he asked.

“Umm—sure,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Daisy did have a point. He needed to get Poppy somewhere where there were men to meet. He glanced at her, noticing how tendrils of her brown hair had escaped the barrette and curled against the pale skin of her neck. Something like a sharp jolt of electricity shot through him again, and he fought the urge to groan.

He had to get out of here. When he started finding women in bulky cardigans and little-boy sneakers attractive, it was getting pretty damned strange. He was starting to think the spell had actually addled his brain. Time to just pick some guy, control his thoughts—assuming he could—make him fall for Poppy, and then get the hell out of here.

“I want to go someplace busy.”

She gave him an odd look, then said, “That would be Smiley’s.”

Smiley’s. Of course, he’d be taking the cute, whimsical girl to a place called Smiley’s.

As Killian stepped through the door, he realized Smiley’s wasn’t at all like what he’d been picturing. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was quite trendy in a bohemian coffee shop sort of way. Like a Starbucks meets an upscale diner meets a cool baroque salon.

A fire blazed in an ornate fireplace, the flames reflecting off the gilded walls and highly polished wood floors. Sofas upholstered in rich-colored velvets were situated in clusters here and there. Round tables and elegant chairs lined the walls.

Poppy led him to one of the tables, taking a seat.

“They have great omelets,” she told him, opening her menu. “And delicious waffles.”

He picked up his own menu but didn’t open it. Instead, he perused the place. Definitely an assortment of men. Some in suits. Some more casually dressed. A few ate and read the paper. Others sat with their coffees, talking on cell phones or typing away on computers. This was definitely a trendy hotspot. There should be plenty of prospective true loves for Poppy here.

He noticed a man just a few tables away. He was dressed in business casual, a decent shirt with a tie. He had a briefcase open on the chair beside him and papers spread out on the table.

His hair was trimmed in a typical business-guy style, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. His build was average. A good steady sort of guy. He could work.

But Killian’s attention turned to another guy. He sat on one of the sofas, reading the paper. This guy wore a simple button-down shirt with jeans and boots. Maybe a little more laid-back than the briefcase guy. That might be a better fit for Poppy.

Killian’s gaze moved still to another man sitting by the fire, talking on his BlackBerry. The cut of his suit stated he had some money. Probably some power in his job. He was a little older than the other two. Hmm, that might be good for Poppy too.

Just pick one. The object here was to get this woman a boyfriend. Do it and be done.

But still he didn’t choose.

Poppy frowned, watching Killian. He’d been the one to say he was starving, yet he hadn’t even cracked open the menu. Instead, he’d been looking around, his attention going from one person to another. He’d tilt his head, narrow his eyes as if he was trying to decide something very important. Then his gaze would move on again.

“Are you all right?” she finally asked, after watching him for several minutes. “Didn’t you say you were starving?”

He blinked at her, then seemed to come back from wherever he was.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He opened his menu, reading down the list of delicious breakfast and lunch items.

She returned her attention to her own menu. When she looked up again, his attention was no longer on the menu. Again he surveyed the room as if searching for someone.

But he couldn’t be expecting to see anyone he knew. So what was he doing?

Then the realization hit her like ice water thrown in her face. He was searching for women to meet. A potential friend, lover, wife. Hadn’t he told her that was what he wanted to accomplish in Boston?

Suddenly, Poppy didn’t feel hungry either. Which was stupid, she told herself. He’d already told her that a relationship was something he very much wanted.

And it wasn’t like this was some impromptu date between them. That was stupid.

She didn’t want that anyway. As much as he wanted a relationship, she didn’t want one.

She glanced at him. And definitely not with him.

Yet, before she could stop herself, she asked, “See anything you like?”

She tried not to wince at her tone, doubting he’d miss the annoyance there.

His attention turned back to her, but instead of giving her a look of speculation, or even just answering with