The Father of Her Son - By Kathleen Pickering Page 0,16
room table. He held up the bottle. “It’s a good year.”
“Oh, yes? And which year is that?”
“The year we met.”
She almost choked.
He reached over to pat her back. “Did I have that bad an effect on you?”
She held a hand to her throat. “That year was rather awful for me. I’d say the following year was a better time.”
“Why do you say that?”
She frowned. “Well, it doesn’t matter. That year began a prestigious career for you. So I’m happy to toast to a fine year.” She lifted her glass.
He studied her from across the counter. There she was dodging information, one more time. “Yes, there was that.”
She smiled sweetly. “Is there anything I can do to help with the meal?”
She looked uncomfortable again and it pained him that she felt she had to be so protective. He shook his head. “You serve folks every day. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself.”
Behind them the pinball machine dinged wildly. Matt jumped up and down on the ottoman. “Score!”
“Easy on the furniture, son.”
“Okay.” Without even looking at Kelly, he slipped another quarter into the machine and began playing again.
“Don’t worry. I bought the furniture to handle my rowdiest friends. Matt can do no harm in here. Let him be free.”
Kelly smiled. “That’s nice. Thank you. He doesn’t get much room in the apartment.”
“Well, you and Matt are welcome here anytime.”
“I’ll be sure to call first. Wouldn’t want to interrupt a hot date.”
He laughed. Boy, did she have the wrong idea. “Not much worry there.”
She slanted him a sideways glance. “Oh, please. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Lies. All of them.”
“Hmm. I seem to remember some political, fund-raising auction and you were the main prize for a dinner date.”
“Oh, don’t remind me of that hellish night.”
She chuckled. “If I remember correctly, three women pooled their money and you ended up taking them all out. Even I bought the tabloids to read about your escapades.”
He slapped his chest. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. But, I was tempted.”
He leaned closer. “And what about you?”
“I never...”
“Yes?”
There it was again. Their easy conversation stalled midway by Kelly’s refusal to speak her mind. What would it take to make her trust him?
She sipped her wine. “I never discuss my private life.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
He’d have to try another way to penetrate her defenses. Instead, he tasted the sauce. Not bad. He turned the burner off. Dropped fresh pasta into the boiling water. “Just five minutes and we can eat.”
He stirred the pasta in the pot, wanting very much to stir another proverbial pot. Taking a shot at the hard questions with Kelly would certainly quash any flirting he had on his mind.
He added more wine to her glass. “So tell me, Kelly. Who is your best friend?”
She frowned. “Bunny, I’d say.”
“No, she is your employee.”
“Well, she has also grown to be my friend.”
He sipped his wine. “As luck would have it.” He took another tack. “Then tell me this. Is she your confidante? Someone you can trust?”
“No. Herby was the closest person to me and now he’s gone.”
The pinball machine sounded. “Bwaa, ha, ha!” Matt’s laughter pulled their attention to him.
Across the counter, Evan could sense Kelly’s defenses rising, as he expected. He found it hard to believe that someone as personable as Kelly didn’t allow anyone except a kindly old gent into her inner sanctuary.
She turned her attention back to him. “Why do you ask, Evan?”
He poured the steaming pasta into a colander in the sink then shook the extra water from the noodles. He placed a pasta bowl next to the sink.
“You seemed distressed yesterday afternoon when Steve and I arrived at Neverland. You did a fine job of distracting Steve, my dear, but not me. I was wondering if you have anyone to talk to when something bothers you.”
She managed a smile. “Not much bothers me, Evan.”
He shook his head. “You don’t fool me, Kelly Sullivan. Something rattled your cage yesterday, and I saw it. As your friend, I want you to know, I’m here if you ever need me.”
He was talking as he worked, pouring the pasta into the serving bowl, ladling the sauce over the top, pulling the Parmesan cheese from the refrigerator and slicing a chunk into the hand grater.
Kelly placed her goblet on the counter, pulling herself up on the stool like a Valkyrie. “I appreciate the offer, Evan, but let me be honest with you.”
Uh-oh. Would she unleash her Irish ire even before Matt had his cake? “Okay. Shoot.”