she worried about.
“So, what can I do to help?”
Kyle turned off the gas under the skillet and moved it to a back burner before turning, his face comically contorted into a mask of outraged alarm. “You do know Thanksgiving dinner requires actual cooking, right?”
Jeez. Why did he have to be so darn likable?
Laughing, she jabbed his arm. “Very funny. I’m not completely useless in the kitchen. I can certainly follow a recipe.”
“I’m sure you can, but for today, I’m banning you from the kitchen.”
“But it’s
He spread his arms, indicating the groceries and cooking gear covering the counter space. “I plan to trade a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner for my room and board. All you have to do is relax and let me do all the work.” His dimple flared to life.
“Said the spider to the fly.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Not one lick, buster.”
“Well, I could let you cook and just write you a check to cover my expenses, but I figured that would piss you off.” His dimple beamed even brighter, and she had to fight back a grin of her own.
She knew his offer was a beguiling trap. Nothing with this man was as simple as it sounded, but honestly, it was hard to see the downside of having a good-looking guy cook you a lavish meal.
“Do you promise to behave?”
He held his fingers aloft in a two-fingered salute. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you really a Boy Scout?”
“What do you think?”
“I think this is going to be a very interesting day.”
“Does that mean we have a deal?”
“Yeah. You cook and I’ll clean.” She extended her hand. His large, warm palm swallowed hers. Unlike the first time they’d shaken hands, at the ground breaking ceremony, this time Shayna’s skin wasn’t insulated by gloves. The shock of skin on skin contact shot a bolt of electricity up her arm, sending a river of wet heat straight to her core.
“Deal.” He withdrew his hand, his thumb dragging slowly and sensuously across the sensitive skin of her palm. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice. “Now scram, or we’ll end up going to bed hungry.”
She nodded and backed out of the narrow space, stopping only long enough to retrieve her costume. As she plopped herself on the sofa, a safe distance from the lust storm raging in the kitchen, Shayna figured she’d be going to bed hungry tonight, no matter how much food Kyle prepared.
The man had stirred a craving in her that she feared she’d never satisfy.
Chapter Six
After two straight hours of cooking, Kyle’s body still hungered for a taste of Shayna. He slid the casserole dish into the oven, fighting the urge to slam the oven door.
Normally, he found cooking a great stress-reducer, but with erotic images of Shayna filling his brain, he couldn’t find his usual peace. Perhaps if he didn’t keep catching glimpses of her curled up in the corner of the sofa, firelight sparking blond highlights to life in her luxurious hair, the tip of her pink tongue captured between her perfectly white teeth as she stretched and smoothed a portion of red velvet across her lap.
His body grew hard and tight. Damn, but this woman packed an unwelcome punch. He’d come to Tennessee to get a job done, not compromise his professional ethics, but being around Shayna made it nearly impossible to keep his mind on business.
Earlier, when they’d shaken hands, the spark had nearly short-circuited his brain. All he’d been able to think of was pulling her body against his and tasting those luscious, shimmering lips.
Who the hell was he kidding? He’d wanted to strip off her skintight jeans and make love to her on the kitchen table.
Hell of a way to earn her trust.
Damn it. Earning her trust wasn’t supposed to be a part of the plan.
Finding out about Shayna’s dual birth certificates gave Kyle a hell of an advantage, and he should be planning how and when to use the information. No only did it strengthen his client’s position but it also added teeth to Patty’s more nefarious claims, which until this morning, he’d thought preposterous.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He knew from experience that delaying bad news only made it more difficult to deliver. And to receive. The situation called for swift, decisive action, but every strategy he came up with felt heartless and cruel.
Bottom line was he’d lost his objectivity and with it, his edge. He found himself worrying more about sparing Shayna than serving his client. Definite career suicide.
“Hey.” Shayna cautiously entered into the kitchen. “Care for some company? All this silence is getting on my nerves.” She pulled out a chair and sat facing into the kitchen.
Seeing her so close to the scene of his recent fantasy rattled him. How much temptation was one man expected to resist?
Trying to maintain his cool by focusing on the familiar routines of cooking, he grabbed the pan of boiled eggs and drained the water into the sink. “Aren’t you used to the quiet?”
“Usually it doesn’t bother me, but today’s a holiday and that’s different.”
“How?”
“You know.” She shrugged as if the answer should be obvious. “Holidays mean lots of friends and family, tons of talking and laughing and gossiping and catching up. Not having all that makes me really miss my family. Surely, spending the holiday away from your home, you can understand how I feel.”
The boiled egg he’d been in the process of shelling oozed through his tightly fisted fingers. “I don’t have much contact with my family anymore.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Genuine regret laced her voice. “So how do you normally spend the holiday?”
“Scooping dressing at a local homeless shelter.” He felt a pang of regret for leaving the mission hanging. He knew from personal experience how demanding hungry kids could be. Volunteers were always at a premium for the annual holiday feast, and he knew that even if his face wouldn’t be missed, his hands certainly would.
“That’s great. My daddy always said sharing your blessings with others feeds the soul and keeps good things coming your way.”
“In California, we call that karma.”
“In Tennessee, we call it being good people.” Cautiously, she edged farther into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of iced tea. “So do you cook, too, or just serve?”
“Are you kidding? It would take me a year to make enough cornbread dressing to feed thousands.”
“But you send a check, don’t you? Probably anonymously, right?”
Amazed that she’d once again pegged him, he shrugged as he finished dicing the last egg. “I’m always looking for year-end tax deductions.”
“Bull. You donate money and volunteer your time because you, Kyle Anderson, are good people, no matter how hard you try to hide it.” Rather than returning to the table, she leaned against the edge of the counter.
“Don’t paint me as a hero too quickly. After the shelter, I spend the rest of the long weekend at the office. It’s amazing how much you can accomplish when no one’s around to interrupt.”
“You work on Thanksgiving? That’s so sad.”
“It gives me an edge. I told you I’m determined to make partner.” He covered the chopped eggs and washed his hands. Tired of struggling with his conscience, he decided to try another tack. If he could convince her to cooperate with Walker’s plan, there’d be no reason to expose James Miller’s secrets.
“Speaking of sharing your blessings, I’ve been thinking about this Noel Festival and the money you’re hoping to raise for the youth center. A million dollars would buy a ton of books and basketballs.”
