Love in a Nutshell (23 page)

Matt smiled. “As I thought.”

He finished packing away the guys’ unsmoked cigars. While they’d played, he’d silently nixed any attempt to light one. Matt had wanted Kate next to him too much to risk her leaving the game over a stogie.

She rose and reached for the nearly empty potato chip bag. “I started playing a while back. Casino night fund-raisers were a fad downstate a couple of years ago. Any time one of Richard’s clients’ pet charities had one, we’d go.” Kate moved on to put glasses into the dishwasher, and Stella followed. “Anyway, after a couple of events, Richard stopped playing at my table,” Kate said. “It irked him to see me kick butt. It was luck, mostly.”

“Luck and being able to read others,” Matt said.

He was done hiding what he wanted from Kate. It was time to be read, loud and clear. He tucked a couple of chips into his right hand while she was closing the dishwasher.

“I liked having you next to me tonight,” he said. “And Stella didn’t seem to mind us being close.”

She held so still that Matt wondered for an instant whether she was going to bolt from the kitchen. But he knew she wanted him, too.

“In fact, I’ll bet my winnings we could get even closer,” Matt said.

As he moved in to kiss her, he dropped a chip for Stella. Then he wished like hell that dogs chewed with their mouths closed.

Kate glanced down. “Did you just give her a treat?”

Matt kept it short and sweet. “Yes.”

“Now I know why you two are making friends. Smart move. But I didn’t see you get anything from the treat jar. The last thing I saw you near was that bag of potato chips. Did you give her a chip?”

“No.”

She stepped back, looked him up and down, and smiled. “You are the worst bluffer,
ever
.”

Which was bull. Except when it came to Kate.

“Open your hand,” she said.

Matt shifted his feet, stalling. “Which one?”

She wrapped her fingers around his right hand and squeezed. Matt’s lone chip died an ugly death.

“Now open it,” she said.

Matt did as directed. A few crumbs slipped from his hand, and Stella dove for them.

“Stella, no!” Kate said.

Too late. Stella snapped up the bits before they hit the floor.

Kate gave Matt a stern look. “You know I don’t feed her from the table.”

Matt dumped the remaining crumbs into the wastebasket. “We aren’t at the table. We’re in the kitchen.”

Stella trotted up to Matt and braced her front feet on his shin as she begged for more.

Kate sighed. “You’ve created a monster. Down, Stella.”

The dog grudgingly obeyed, but stayed close to Matt.

SEVENTEEN

For about the tenth time since Wednesday poker night, Kate tripped over a pair of Matt’s shoes … and it was only Friday. Why would a guy think it was smart to drop his shoes exactly where he’d taken them off? He had big feet, too. And many, many pairs of shoes.

Kate picked up the latest pair and chucked them just to the left of his closed bedroom door, where they joined a bunch of their kin.

“If you want to develop a shoe-eating habit, I promise I won’t say a word,” she told Stella. “It would be a good payback for Matt getting you hooked on potato chips.”

The dog was now a serious chip junkie. Even though she’d gotten sick on them, she still sat longingly in front of the pantry cabinet, where Matt always kept his stash.

Kate’s poodle had food issues on another front, too. Stella had been raised with an open supply of food. Kate would put kibble in her bowl in the morning and the poodle would graze at will. But now, the second Kate filled Stella’s bowl, glutton Chuck appeared, excited as if Thanksgiving had come around yet again. The instant Kate looked away, the chow was gone in one gulp. Chuck did not believe in chewing.

As though he knew Kate was thinking about him, a bark rolled into the hallway from the living room. And then another. These weren’t excited sounds, more expository statements.

“Woof.”

Kate joined Chuck in front of the fireplace.

“Woof.”

He had barely lifted his head from his napping position.

“What?” she asked him.

“Woof.”

Kate looked at Stella, who had followed in her tracks. “You speak dog. Tell him to stop.”

But Stella couldn’t be persuaded to negotiate, and Chuck had no intention of stopping.

“Okay, Lassie. Did Timmy fall down the well again?”

“Woof.”

“Am I the prettiest princess in the land?”

“Woof.”

Kate could have played her game awhile longer, but Chuck’s hound bark was beginning to make her teeth rattle. She walked through the kitchen and on to the basement door, which was by the house’s back entry. Stella stood at the back door and stared expectantly at her.

“Okay, you first, then I’ll deal with the big dog.” She stuck Stella on the outdoor lead that had been brought over from The Nutshell, and headed back inside.

“Matt?” she called.

He was downstairs working out, a daily event. She heard the whine of a treadmill going at warp speed, but no word from Matt.

“Hey, Culhane!” she yelled, cupping her hands to either side of her mouth.

“What?”

“Your dog needs you.”

The treadmill’s hum lowered as he brought its speed down, then stopped entirely.

“Woof.”

“See? Like that,” she said as he climbed the steps.

When he made the top, Kate was transfixed. He used his right hand to wipe sweat from a six-pack of abs so hard she wanted to trace each ridge with her tongue. Twice.

His smile was slow and knowing. “You probably should let me by.”

Or not,
she thought.

“Woof.”

“He’s just lying there, barking,” she said.

Matt moved past her, close enough that she could catch the heat rolling off his body … though it just might have been hers.

Kate followed him to Chuck.

“What’s up, buddy?” he asked the dog.

“Woof.”

“What’s he barking at?” Kate asked.

“He’s barking
at
nothing. That’s his water bark. He has specific barks for specific things.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You think? Come with me to the kitchen.”

Kate trailed after him. “Amazing,” she said as she watched him claim the empty water bowl and refill it.

And really, she wasn’t just talking about the dog. When it came to Matt, the view from the rear was almost as impressive as that from the front. She catalogued each of these moments to tide her over in her lonely, dog-guarded bed.

“So Stella the Wonderpoodle doesn’t have different barks?” he asked.

“No, but she can now identify an unopened potato chip bag by sight.”

Matt laughed. “A lot of dogs have different barks for different needs. Stella’s pretty smart. Maybe you just don’t know her signs anymore.”

“Maybe, but for now, let’s talk about shoes.”

“Isn’t that the kind of thing that would go over better with Ella and my sisters?”

“Doubtful, Imelda,” she said. “I’m betting if I stacked all of my shoes against yours, you’d win.”

He looked almost wounded. “I don’t have that many.”

“This way, please.” She beckoned him away from the kitchen and to the bedroom hallway in tour guide fashion. “And here we have Mount Culhane, an active volcano, altitude six pairs and growing daily.”

He regarded the pile suspiciously. “How did they all end up here?”

“I’ve been moving them every day.”

“From where?”

“Exactly where you take them off, it appears. It was becoming a minefield out there.”

He was still staring at the shoes. “I’d wondered where they all went.”

“What? They’re right by your door. Don’t you look at the ground?”

“No need,” he said. “I could walk this house blindfolded.”

“Then next time, I’ll trip you up and take them all the way into your bedroom.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Would you?”

Kate realized she had just committed a tactical error and morphed into his maid.

He leaned down and kissed her. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Okay, make that two tactical errors, because she didn’t stop him. And now three, because she was kissing him back.

It had been tough work forgetting just what it felt like to be kissed by Matt Culhane. And it had been tougher yet to block the thought that she was one wall away from him every night. She knew that he sometimes talked in his sleep. She knew that he woke and showered at six. And she knew that right now she’d be beyond blissed-out should they make love.

Telling herself she was ten kinds of crazy, Kate deepened the kiss and touched the wall of muscle on his chest. And while they kissed some more, she ran her fingers down to the waistband of his shorts.

She didn’t know for sure what he’d look like totally naked, but she could give it a good guess based on the size of his shoes. He brought her tighter against his body. She drew in a surprised breath. She had underestimated.

“Aren’t you going to do that magical thing where I’m suddenly on a bed?” she asked. Because she really, really wanted him to.

He made some space between the two of them. “I don’t know. I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

“What could possibly involve our minds?”

She’d been joking, but he looked serious.

“One question,” he said. “If we do this … if I make love to you … what happens next?”

“We go unconscious?”

“No, after that. Does it mean that you’re going to move from your room and into mine?”

“Well, no. But it does mean we’ll both be less tense.”

He shook his head. “That’s not good enough for me, Kate.”

“But back at the hotel you would have…”

“You’re right. But I’ve been thinking about this since we were out of town, and it turns out that I’m not a fling sort of guy. Actually, once I considered it, I realized I never have been.”

Something wasn’t computing. “What about your Keene’s Harbor’s reputation as the resident Don Juan?”

He shrugged. “I’ve dated my share of women, but none of those women have anything to do with you,” Matt said. “You and I are in a different place. We’re friends—the kind of friends I don’t want to give up unless we become something more. So if you and I go there, it has to be with the full commitment to be my lover, because no way am I going to risk our friendship for less.”

“You’re scaring me a little.”

“I probably should be scaring you a lot. Because I mean it, Kate. Once I’m in, I’m
all
in.”

So unless she was ready for commitment, she had struck out?

“And what about The Nutshell?” she asked.

“It has nothing to do with us. It’s all business.”

Kate crossed her arms. “You wouldn’t say that if it was your house or your brewery.”

“Kate, I paid the bank $200,000 for that mortgage. I gave you until Thanksgiving to make a go of it. But I can’t afford to wait any longer than that. I need the money, either from you or from the restaurant I plan to open next summer.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just not ready for this.”

And while it was tougher than any trek she’d ever taken, Kate retreated to reclaim her poodle. She might be ten kinds of stupid, but for now, she’d managed to avoid adding an eleventh.

*   *   *

THE NEXT
morning, Matt walked into his office—or what had been his office before he’d made Kate his personal assistant. Now ownership was questionable.

“Ginger just called,” Kate said.

“What did she want?” Until he had a signal from Kate otherwise, he planned to keep it all business.

“She’d like to know your Traverse City schedule. We’re working on coordinating your calendar so that someone other than you has a clue where you’ll be at any given time.”

“Nobody but me really needs to know.”

“Nice try, but untrue. We also talked about getting bids from subcontractors on the Tropicana, since you’ve decided to be the general contractor. I know you wanted to keep the bids local, but it’s a motel, Matt. You need to take advantage of that. We think you should widen your net some, since you can offer up rooms in exchange for lower price quotes.”

Matt smiled. “You look comfortable there.”

She looked around. “Where?”

“Behind my desk. With your papers everywhere.” There was a certain order to his pile filing system, and he hoped she hadn’t messed with it.

“Where else would I work? I mean, I suppose I could go use the phone at the servers’ stand, but I figure folks should have to work a little harder for their gossip than just lurking behind me.”

“How about we switch off and at least I get the spot behind my desk for a while?” he asked. “I need to get to the computer.”

She rose. “Do you want me out of here?”

And that was the thing of it. Even though they had a long way to go on a personal basis, and it made him a little crazy to have her close, he wanted her nearby.

“You can stick around,” he said. “I’m just placing a yeast order. We’re coming to the last generation we can use to brew.”

Kate had just moved to the visitor’s side of the desk when a knock sounded at the door and Lizzie poked her head into the office.

“So, business or pleasure?” Matt asked.

“Business, definitely.” Lizzie sat down. “Chief Erikson asked me to stop by and give you an update on the incident with Kate in the brewhouse.”

“I’m guessing that it’s more of a no-news update, or Clete would be here himself,” he said.

Lizzie nodded. “You’ve got his act down. The bottom line is that the brewhouse is as clean of evidence as the arson event. There were no prints that couldn’t be accounted for. I can rule someone out, though.”

“Really? Who?” Matt asked.

“Jerry. It seems that he took on a second job when his wife got laid off from the bank. He was there when Kate took her swim.”