Authors: Donna Kauffman
Babycakes (10 page)
“So, you’re a coloring veteran then.”
She cocked a brow. “When did you start coloring?”
He grinned. “About ten days ago.”
“What, your kindergarten teacher didn’t believe in crayons?”
“My private tutors were more interested in teaching me about the aesthetics of oils versus watercolors.”
“When you were five?”
Morgan merely smiled, mentally kicking himself for inserting anything about his Westlake upbringing into the conversation. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about his family name that had turned her off the day they’d met, but things were progressing well at the moment. He’d very much like that progression to continue.
She didn’t make any comment about the privileged upbringing implied by private tutors. Instead, that knowing smile deepened slightly. “And?” she queried.
“And . . . what?”
“Watercolors . . . or oils? Which did your five-year-old self prefer?”
He flashed a grin then, surprised—quite pleasantly—by her dry humor. “Oils. I guess I’ve always been a bright colors kinda guy.”
Her eyes sparkled again. “Well, given we’re coloring water pictures today, you might want to keep an eye on your cerulean. I’d say it’s definitely in jeopardy.”
He took a step closer, not because he’d intended to, rather simply because he felt a natural pull to do so. She didn’t step back, and—to her credit and his further delight—she didn’t look away, either.
“So noted.” He took in her soft lips . . . pink cheeks, and something of a considering look still in her bright eyes. While he was loathe to do anything to dampen the rapport they’d easily found, he couldn’t ignore the fact some other underlying . . . something was still going on inside her head, and it wasn’t likely a good something.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” She didn’t pull away or put her guard up, but that considering look was a lot less subtle.
“Did I say or do something to cause you to have an issue with me?” He watched her eyes. “Not today, but . . . before?”
Her smile faltered at that and she looked honestly surprised, possibly a little abashed, at the question. “Why do you ask?”
His grin returned. “I thought it was only lawyers who answered a question with a question. Or . . . are you one?”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Me, a lawyer? God, no.”
He chuckled. “So, is that it, then? I’m condemned by profession?”
“Oh.” She realized her faux pas. “Sorry. No. I know from Dr. Gabe that you’re helping him with some research funding. That’s really great of you. I wasn’t meaning. . . never mind.”
Gabe had been telling her about him. The good doctor had been telling the truth. He didn’t play at matchmaking; he was quite serious about it.
Morgan found he wasn’t at all put off by that. “So . . . not a lawyer. And yes, I am one and, yes, I am helping Gabe. I work mostly on environmental causes.”
“I know.”
“Ah.”
“Small island.” Kit seemed to debate saying more. Coming to a decision, she added, “And yet, you don’t seem to know who I am.”
For some reason he didn’t think her comment had been the one at the root of the mental tug of war. “I know you’re going to work for Lani Dunne, running the side business to her bake shop.”
“Did you know my last name is Bellamy?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t recall if she’d told him or if that had come from Birdie or Gabe. “Should . . . that matter to me in some way?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell then?”
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, suddenly feeling lost. “Should it?”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d asked what issue she had with him. He’d supposed it was about him being a Westlake, which could elicit any one of a number of responses—many less than positive—from various people. On Sugarberry, he’d assumed it likely had to do with his mother ostracizing Lilly’s maternal grandmother. But with Kit, it sounded rather a lot more . . . personal. And he had no idea what to think.
She paused and seemed to take stock. “No. No, it shouldn’t.” After a second brief pause, she tried on another smile. It wasn’t at all wary, but didn’t quite reach her eyes any longer. “Well, now that we have introductions out of the way, where’s this crookded bulletin board of yours?” She turned toward the lab door, conversation apparently over, but he stopped her.
“If I had known your last name was Bellamy, what would I also know about you?”
She glanced back. “Nothing important. Forget I asked.”
“I wish I could.”
She turned back to him. “Meaning?”
He smiled. “I’m a curious sort. Gets me into all kinds of trouble. Of course, it also got me into my chosen profession, and probably makes me better at it, so I can’t be too annoyed.”
“I’m sure any one of the locals would be happy to fill you in.”
“True, but hearsay and secondhand information can be colored by the teller’s perspective. It’s always better to hear it direct from the source.”
She fought a smile, but he could see it teasing the corners of her mouth. A mouth he found himself watching. . . and still wanting—quite badly, actually.
“Apparently you can add tenacious to curious,” she said, a wry note in her voice.
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’m sure that’s another trait responsible for your success in your chosen profession.”
“It’s come in handy, from time to time.”
“Yes. It would seem to be a family trait.”
His smile faded. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve been witness, firsthand, to how tenacious Westlake lawyers can be. Can’t say the same about the curiosity factor, though. They didn’t really seem to want to know much of anything about me or what was going to happen to me. Their only interest was winning—at any cost—which, I understand, was a very pretty penny. Since my brother-in-law is a Carruthers, he certainly had the means to take care of their tab.”
Morgan’s smile was completely gone, but he kept his tone steady and pleasant, despite being totally lost as to what she was referring. “I’m not part of the family law firm. Never have been.”
“I know.”
“Yet, I’m to be tarred with the same brush, apparently.”
“No, not at all. I don’t believe in the whole sins-of-the-father bit.”
“So, you have something against me personally? What would that be?” His thoughts went to Lilly again, but he couldn’t imagine Kit had an opinion on his guardianship one way or the other. Her beef seemed to be with the family law firm. Neither he, nor Lilly, had ever played any role there.
“Actually, I don’t. Not really.” A little of the starch went out of her shoulders. “In fact, you seem like a pretty decent guy. Or I wouldn’t have been laughing with you a moment ago.”
“But . . . we’re not laughing now. And I get the distinct impression we may not be laughing again, anytime soon. For that, I’m truly sorry. I enjoyed it. Very much, in fact. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up, but I knew when we were first introduced that there was a problem and I just . . . wanted to clear the air.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m glad you did. I’m just still a little. . . raw. Maybe a lot raw. From my experience dealing with your family, I mean. When I heard you were a Westlake, it was natural, I think, to be wary.”
“Understandable, yes. Until you realize that I have nothing to do with them, their cases, or how they conduct their business.” He smiled, but was certain it didn’t reach his eyes, either. “I’m what they’d call the black sheep of the family.”
“To hear it told here, you’re the white knight, and the rest are the black sheep.”
He smiled more naturally at that. “It’s nice to know the islanders think of me kindly. It’s important to me that Lilly and I fit in here. I want to put down roots, build a life here for us. How anyone feels about my extended family or the firm is their prerogative, certainly, but I can’t do anything to change that, nor am I particularly interested in trying. My relatives have earned that reputation and whatever comes with it. That doesn’t involve me, one way or the other.”
“Understood,” she said. “And appreciated.”
“So . . . still wary? Or are we okay?”
“Mmm, maybe a little wary still. Just being honest. Not so much with you, specifically, but more with our . . . um . . . ” She trailed off and suddenly was back to looking at her hands, her feet, the walls. But not before her gaze had gotten caught up in his again, with a little side trip to his mouth.
His smile spread to a grin. “So, it’s the our . . . um . . . part. Is that because you don’t want to be attracted to anyone associated with the Westlakes, and, I’m guessing, most certainly not a blood relative?”
Her chin flew up at his question, and her eyes widened when she realized he’d moved another step closer. She lifted her gaze to his, and he watched that delicious punch of awareness enter her eyes again . . . and knew his own reaction mirrored it, perhaps even surpassed it.
“I’m not attracted—”
“Kit”—he interrupted her attempt to duck what they both knew was true—“I could say I’m as surprised as you, about our . . . um . . . but I’m not.”
“You make a habit of almost kissing someone you don’t know?”
“See, I thought it was an almost kiss, too. And no, not once, have I ever.” His gaze drifted, lingering on her mouth, and he saw her throat work. His was a little dry, too, come to think of it. “I still want to. What I meant was that I wasn’t surprised I wanted to. I was attracted to you the first time we met.”
“You’re drawn to women who are clearly wary of you?”
“I was confused by the wariness, but still interested enough to at least find out why.”
“And now you have.” Her tone might have smoothed . . . but her gaze was still soaking him up.
Made a man want to take a little swim. “Indeed.” He didn’t bother attempting to mask whatever she might be seeing in his eyes.
“Well, then,” she said, though there was a slight tremor in the words, “at least we’ve cleared that up.” She tried to clear her throat, but had to pull her gaze away from his mouth again, to look into his eyes. “As I said, I have no personal beef with you. I even think you’re a nice guy. You obviously love your niece, and you’re doing good things for Gabe. So, to that end, we’re okay. I just don’t want to become . . .”
“Chummy?” he helpfully supplied, a grin kicking at the corners of his mouth.
Her lips curved as well, but she held on to the smooth tone. “Anything other than friendly acquaintances.”
“I respect that. Disappointed, but respectful.”
She allowed a small smile, and the warmth was back in her eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Although, if you’d like to just remain . . . friendly acquaintances, you might want to stop doing that,” he advised.
“Doing what?”
“Staring at my mouth like you missed a few recent meals.”
Her gaze flashed, flying up to his . . . but the most delightful flush to her cheeks told the real story.
Caught in the act, she still gave denial her best shot. “We can add arrogant and egotistical to the list.”
“Not at all. Observant,” he offered, then let a slow smile cross his face. “Confident in what I know to be true. Curious about what I don’t know. And . . . always hopeful.”
“Well, please observe then, this is me telling you I’m not interested. I can’t be clearer than that. So . . . don’t get your hopes up.”
“Too late, I’m afraid. But, message received.” He lifted his hands, palms out. “Friends only.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just so we’re clear though, on the our . . . um . . . thing.” He shifted his stance slightly when her gaze went straight to his mouth, and her own opened, just slightly, on an indrawn breath. She really had to stop doing that. His jeans were getting more uncomfortable by the second. “If I weren’t a Westlake, would you be interested?” He waited for her gaze to lift to his. And what he saw there prompted him to finish the question with a smile. “In finding out more about our . . . um?”
“It . . . it makes no difference. The answer is no.” The flush in her cheeks deepened, but her eyes had their flash back, only it wasn’t a spark of desire.
He wished he could say that was a turn off, but it wasn’t. At all.
“And, with me, no means no. It’s not a veiled invitation to try harder.”
He grinned, laughed. “Yeah, that tenacious thing has also gotten me into trouble from time to time.”
“Not surprised to hear that.”
Considering her dismissal of all things Westlake, he replied, “No, I imagine you’re not.”
He took several steps back, keeping his hands in his pockets. So far her gaze had only drifted as far south as his mouth, but he didn’t need to risk it drifting any lower. “I won’t apologize for my family, as I’m certain they’re not very apologetic regarding the matter, so that would be disingenuous of me at best.”
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