Sweet Kiss (2 page)

“So you’re planning to stay? You really bought Dawson’s old marina?” Jim ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, only mussing it more. It tumbled over his ears and collar and gave him a disheveled look like a German wirehaired pointer. “I never thought you’d give up a wandering life to settle down.”

“Trust me. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”

Jim grunted and fiddled with the faucet. “Heard you were in the Netherlands for a few years.”

“A few.” Tappe’s tone was subdued. He didn’t want to remember those few years when his internet security business was enlarging, growing stronger and vibrant—and his two-year marriage to Helena was waning and dissolving into a nasty divorce before his very eyes.

The phone rang and Jim excused himself to answer it. From the grimace on his face, his wrinkled eyebrows and quick intake of breath, Tappe suspected the conversation might be an urgent one. Minutes later, Jim returned, shaking his head in disbelief. “Melanie Houston called. It seems Kate Clark dropped her diamond down the kitchen sink at her aunt’s house. Those two are always losing things in the drain at their shop. I told them to put a safety screen over them, but I swear, sometimes a woman’s mind is like a radio with a loose antenna. It’s running, but not picking up signals.”

Tappe chuckled. “Well, according to a recent study of the human brain, women may be the better listeners. Supposedly men only use the left side of their brains, but women use both.”

“Oh, please, don’t tell my wife and daughters I’m functioning with half a brain. I’d never have any peace at home.” Jim shook his head, grimaced, then continued in sinking tones. “Worse yet, I can’t help Kate ’cause all my plumbers are out on jobs. I told Melanie I’d get someone there as soon as I can.”

The sound of Kate’s name sent Tappe’s emotions and thoughts swirling and whirling like sand on the beach in a wind storm. Before he realized what he was saying, he uttered, “I’ll go.” In his wildest dreams, he had no idea where such a reckless offer came from, but once it was out, he was certain the one person he’d love to see in Little Heron Shores was Kate Clark. He had heard she had a coffee shop on Main Street and was doing a brisk business. He was not surprised. As kids they used to raid crackers and snacks from Fay’s pantry to play store, and Kate always had insisted on being the storekeeper and managing the tackle box they stuffed with Monopoly money to use for currency.

Jim snorted. “You’re telling me a computer whiz can take a drain apart?”

“Knock it off, Foster.” Tappe scowled. “Have you any idea how many times I held a flashlight for you when your dad sent you out to fool around with people’s drains on weekends? When we should have been raising hell?”

“Point taken.” Jim laughed. “Okay. Have at it. The house will be unlocked and someone will be around. Go on in. Take one of my toolboxes in the back.”

Tappe started toward the back storeroom. “Hold onto my faucet. I’ll get it when I return the toolbox.”

“No, take the faucet and bring the toolbox back when you’re in town.” Jim walked over and dropped it in his hand. “We can settle up then. Oh, by the way, if you run into Kate, I have to warn you, she’s as beautiful as she was in high school and as kind-hearted as any woman I know. She’d be good for you. She may be engaged, but hasn’t pulled the matrimonial trigger yet.”

“Who said I was interested?” Tappe asked, annoyed his best friend could read his mind so easily.

“Well, if you’re not, you’re the only single man in a hundred mile radius who isn’t.”

Tappe grunted. He didn’t like the idea of a horde of men being interested in Kate Clark. And what about her fiancé? He couldn’t be thrilled either. “Maybe I’m just an old-fashioned guy with high standards and integrity. Maybe I’m the type of guy who likes to give women room to breathe.”

“Oh, stop with the choir boy antics, will you?” Jim groused. “Take a hike and go play with the mucked-up drain. And take a couple of buckets with you. Don’t forget, if you end up smelly and dirty, you volunteered for the job, dumbass.”

“Some friend you are.” Tappe gave Jim a peeved look, but secretly he was pleased Jim had agreed to give him the job and a heads up on Kate to boot.

Chapter Two

Kate sat cross-legged in an upstairs spare bedroom at the back of the house and looked around the room where piles of old belongings from worn curtains to broken lamps surrounded the bookcase holding vintage cookbooks she was perusing for her display in the coffee shop. This had been the storage room of the four-bedroom house for as long as she could remember. The air was hot, stale and smelled of dry-rotted canvas and other musty or sun-bleached antiquated goods.

Her sister Violet had promised they would get together to clean the house and barn, but so far, Violet had made no move to suggest a date, nor to show her face. Kate loved the old homestead. It was where she and her sister were raised after their mother died, and their father signed guardianship over to their aunt so he could escape to Seattle and avoid child-rearing responsibilities. The stately house had good bones with its polished wood floors, high ceilings, sturdy walls, summer kitchen, and screened-in back porch. It had confronted years of callous scorching summers and malicious fall hurricanes with pounding rains. And it held tons of warm, wonderful memories. She only wished she had the ready cash to buy Violet out of her half of the inheritance.

Kate cocked her ear toward the stairs. She had left the door open at the bottom of the steps so she could hear if anyone came into the house. She was certain she heard a noise in the kitchen, but she promptly dismissed it, realizing she would have heard a Foster plumbing truck pulling into the yard. The trucks had mufflers loud enough to wake the dead.

Just to be sure, she put a scrap of paper between the pages to hold her place where she had found a recipe for strawberry chiffon pie. Book in hand, she hurried down the steps and entered the kitchen to find half a torso wearing tan cargo shorts and a gray sweatshirt sticking out from under the sink. His sockless feet sported old, scuffed boat shoes. A string of unsavory expletives followed the clanking sound of a wrench against metal. Kate squatted down near the opening. “Oh, I’m so glad Jim sent someone. If I lose that ring, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“If I bust my knuckles using this good-for-nothing pipe wrench on this stubborn trap, I’ll never forgive you either.”

“Tappe?” Kate stared at the half torso in front of her.

“Kate?” He slid out, wrench still in his hand. Disheveled and slightly aggravated, he lay semi-prone squinting up at her.

Kate dropped to her knees, discarded the cookbook, and grabbed him in a huge bear hug, wrench and all. She pulled away, rocked back on her heels, and surveyed him with a bewildered look. “Tappe! I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

“Taking. Apart. Your drain.” Their gazes met, and a sizzling spark raced though her.

Kate laughed. His logical, curt answer reminded her of times long ago when, as children, she would ask a question he thought too ridiculous and illogical to answer and would only stare at her. But the intimate look he was giving her now was far from a childhood stare.

“Here.” He cleared his throat and shoved a flashlight into her hands. “Hold the light for me. Be careful. If we get this trap loosened, there’s probably decades of slime just waiting to make an escape. Have the bucket ready.”

She nodded and waited until he slid back under the sink, then shone the light on the drain and peered in. He was the same old Tappe she remembered. Older now, but still not inclined to get overly excited or zealous. Sometimes, he could be downright exasperating with his logical calm approach to life and his cool, collected demeanor. But my, oh my, he was as handsome as Eva May described him. Well-muscled, he still had curly light brown hair falling over his forehead, giving him the innocent little boy look which often worked to his benefit when he was trying to talk himself out of trouble. And he smelled heavenly, his aftershave a mixture of fresh air, ocean breeze, and pine.

“I heard you were back in town,” Kate said.

“I heard you have a coffee shop.”

“I thought you were in the Netherlands.”

“As does everyone else in town.” He snorted.

“What are you doing back here in Little Heron Shores?”

“Same as you. Starting a business.”

Kate was used to his ability to frustrate people with his spontaneous, short responses. You had to pull details from him. And he seldom offered additional information.

“Here, give me the bucket.” His hand fell on hers, and she yanked it back quickly, feeling the power of his touch even after all these years. If he noticed her skittish gesture, he didn’t react. “Dad and I bought the marina.”

“What happened to your internet security business?”

“I sold it.” He slid further out and handed her the wrench. “You better back away, ’cause when I set this trap in the bucket, things could get messy.” He smiled, the same old smile she remembered, with eyes as compelling as ever, his magnetism as potent as ever. They stared at each other for another lingering moment.

And then it happened. The trap he was holding slipped from his grip, dropped into the bucket, splattering black slime up his arm and over his gray sweat shirt. Gobs of inky-looking goo splashed onto the front of Kate’s pink T-shirt and out onto the green and white linoleum floor.

“Oh, hell,” he sputtered, “hand me the other bucket to catch the drips when I pull this miserable thing out.” He swapped out the buckets and removed the first one from underneath the cabinet. He rose just as Kate did, almost colliding with her. She set the wrench on the drain board and snatched the roll of paper towels from the counter while he placed the bucket in the sink. Pieces of soggy gunk dripped from his hair. They stared at the oily puddles as they plopped onto the floor, separated, then scuttled away like slippery black bugs.

“Oh, good grief!” His shoulders dropped, and he rubbed his forehead, transferring more of the gunk onto his well-tanned face. When he realized his mistake, his lips quirked and he flashed a wide grin, showing even white teeth. It only took a quick peek at Kate before they simultaneously broke into a rolling laughter that brought tears to Kate’s eyes.

“What a sorry-looking mess you’ve made of yourself,” Kate chortled, choking back another ripple of laughter. Actually, he looked fantastic, despite the dirt. He had classically handsome features—firm lips, a perfectly straight nose, and a square jaw with just a slightly visible childhood scar beneath his chin where he had once missed a jump from the dock to a pontoon and hit the edge of the boat instead. “Why on earth did Jim send you?”

“All his plumbers were out on jobs when I stopped in to pick up some supplies, so I figured I could help him out. I’ve turned your kitchen into a disaster zone.” He started for the bathroom. “I’ll just take a moment to get cleaned up.”

“I’m going up to change my shirt,” she said, still amused. “Take your time. Towels and washcloths are in the cupboard.”

Minutes later, when Kate came back down, Tappe was shutting the cupboard doors underneath the sink. He had cleaned the floor. His hair was wet from dunking it under the faucet. He had changed into a snug black T-shirt only someone with well-toned abs like his should be wearing. His sweatshirt was rolled into a ball on the counter along with her ring, clean and sparkling, lying in a small cereal bowl.

“All fixed and ready to go,” he said. His face grew serious. “It was nice seeing you again, Kate.”

“Here, let me wash your sweatshirt.” She held out a hand. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No.” He stared at her as if an invisible web of attraction was building between them but was stretched too far and too fast and was near breaking. “No, it’s not necessary,” he said in a tight voice. He started to say something more, halted, and drew in a sharp breath instead, his demeanor changing from sunny to dark gray. He looked down at the floor, then up at her and jerked his thumb toward the sink where her diamond lay twinkling in the rays of sunlight flooding the countertop.

“Whoever he is, he’s a very lucky guy. I hope he knows that.” His voice had a tone of pained frustration mixed with disappointment. Without waiting for her to speak, he grabbed the shirt, buckets, and toolbox and strode wordlessly out the door and to his truck. The door slammed with a sharp bang.

“Wait, I’m not—” Stunned and confused, Kate ran to the door and watched him through the screen as he started the truck, gunned the engine, and flew down the road between the towering pines leaving a trail of dust to billow out behind him.

****

“You mean you didn’t tell him the diamond was your Aunt Fay’s?” Melanie asked.

It was early Monday morning, an hour before the coffee shop opened. Everything was ready for the breakfast crowd. The floor, tables, and counters sparkled in the morning sunlight slanting in through the front windows. The familiar smell of cinnamon, hazelnut, and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Colorful old coffee cups, found at a flea market and now holding a variety of pungent herbs, marched in a perfectly straight line along the window sill where the women were seated. Books and papers were scattered over the table top as they reviewed recipes and details for the town’s week-long celebration of Valentine’s Day. Many of the town’s stores and restaurants had plans to offer specials for the entire week in hopes of enticing customers and increasing sales. Melanie suggested they do a signature dessert at a reduced cost.

“I didn’t have time,” Kate moaned. “His mood changed from white to black in the few minutes it took me to go upstairs and change.”

“He’s usually one of those even-keeled guys whose temperament motors along at a smooth, lawful 55.”

“Well, he tore out of the house at a streaking 85.” Grim-faced, Kate slumped in her chair. “I’ll go down to the docks at lunchtime and take him a few scones and iced donuts. I’ll try to find out what was bugging him.”

“What was bugging him was evident, genius. Tappe has always been an honorable person who doesn’t cross certain principled boundaries. He thought you were engaged. You have to fix that.” Melanie swept her hand around the room. “How do you think we should decorate this place for Valentine’s Day? And what kind of desserts should we feature?”