The Christmas Date. Michele DunawayЧитать онлайн книгу.
about it. He would definitely pass. Everything about this man was sexy, strong and powerful. He even smelled good, and his voice had that deep, husky quality that sent shivers down women’s spines. Like hers.
The matrons of Dogwood Lane were going to love him.
“They’ll be parading their granddaughters in front of your nose in no time,” Kate said as she attempted to shake off the effect he was having on her. “Be forewarned. They’re all hopelessly romantic matchmakers. Nora considers herself an expert. She and Frieda are legendary.”
Tyler’s chuckle washed over Kate. “You sound like they’ve been on your case.”
“All the time. They’re a regular love connection,” Kate admitted before adding hastily, “but I’m too busy with law school to date anyone.”
“Well, I’m too busy with work,” Tyler replied, grabbing the foaming spray cleaner she held out. Kate tossed a pair of yellow gloves at him and he caught them easily. “It’s all-consuming and my number-one priority. Not many women want to camp out in a war zone, and there’s no way I plan to settle down any time soon. Owning a house is almost too domestic for me. Especially cleaning it. You don’t know of a reliable housekeeping service around here, do you?”
“No,” Kate said. To her, a service would be a luxury, not a necessity.
“I’ll ask around tonight.” Tyler placed the gloves on the counter before shaking the aerosol can. He pressed the nozzle and foam sprayed all over the laminate countertop, the bubbles flowing over the edge onto the floor. “Darn. That didn’t work.”
“Haven’t you ever cleaned?” Kate asked, watching as he stopped the steady stream with a rag.
He appeared sheepish. “No. I’m never around. Ever since I graduated college, I’ve used a service. It’s a priority in my budget. If not, my place would never get clean. I like to arrive home and find everything pristine.”
Just another difference between them. Kate mopped her own floors and scrubbed her own toilet every Saturday morning.
“Here, let me do that.” Kate handed him a dust cloth and furniture polish. Their fingertips touched again and she pulled her hand to safety and pointed. “Why don’t you go dust off the furniture? That’s a no-brainer.”
His eyebrow arched. “Are you saying I have no brains?”
“In this area, yes,” Kate said. “You’re pretty pathetic.”
“You’re probably right,” Tyler said, laughing at her accurate assessment. “So from here on out, I’ll take my orders from you.”
The cheeky expression accompanying his words could thaw an iceberg, and his flirtatiousness did more than melt Kate. Longing, tingling, the sudden need for raw passion hit her. Men like Tyler Nichols were dangerous. They stole your heart and gave you nothing but lingering memories. That is, if you even got to that point at all. She had to get away from him. Kate gestured toward the living room. “Dust!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler said and disappeared through the archway, leaving Kate alone to deal with her yearnings and wipe up the mess.
Chapter Three
A little less than two hours later, Tyler Nichols decided he had it made. His new neighbors were on a mission, and, after telling Tyler to sit and enjoy some of Nora’s homemade stew, they had flown into a cleaning frenzy while clucking nonstop about Myra’s dreadful children.
Even if Tyler had wanted to help, sitting at the kitchen table was probably safer. The Dogwood matrons were household pros who put Heloise and her hints to shame.
They were also matchmakers extraordinaire who had to be reckoned with. Subtlety was not in the vocabulary of these ladies. Tyler had already gracefully turned down three invitations to meet six eligible granddaughters.
Not only that, but the few men who had braved coming into the fray were busy one-upping one another to carry any remaining boxes. No, Tyler decided that sitting was safer, and better because it allowed him to look at Kate as she moved around, spritzing and polishing.
Even doing something as mundane as household chores revealed the feminine grace basic to her. That type of poise was rare and would make her fun to photograph.
Her face had all the planes and angles the camera lens loved. He only wished she’d pull her hair out of that annoying bun. With her hair around her shoulders, she would laugh, bat her long eyelashes and gesture him toward the bedroom…. Tyler shook off the vision before it threw him completely off balance. Once his shower was suitably sanitized, he was heading in there for a needed dose of cold water.
To think of Kate simply as his next-door neighbor would be wise, he reminded himself. Whereas he loved the female sex, and he most definitely enjoyed their company as long as it came without strings, he was not one of those men who knew the meaning of the C-word. The only commitment he’d made was to his career. He’d never remained with one woman long enough even to think about giving her a key to his apartment or allowing her to store a toothbrush there.
But after a grandma named Frieda had cornered him and suggested that he ask Kate out, well, now the idea wouldn’t dislodge itself. Her body between his sheets—just the very idea was a muse beckoning.
Tyler twisted his hands. Maybe Kate was right about declaring him brainless. Here he was, considering following Frieda’s suggestion. While he didn’t know Kate well, he sensed she could prove to be a disastrous complication in his life. And when the relationship ended, he’d still be living next door to her. How awkward would that be?
He knew only one other woman like Kate. His mother. Efficient. Sweet. Innocent. Always lending a helping hand. Definitely untarnished by the ugliness of the world. Maybe that was why his mom didn’t understand his job and wanted him settled down, not traveling the world as he preferred.
Not even his job’s importance could convince his mother to like his decision to be free to document the world’s events on film. Not that she had given up on seeing him married. She remained hopeful that if Tyler found the right woman, he’d want to stay home.
Somehow, Tyler didn’t figure Kate would really understand the value of his job, either. The way she fit into the Dogwood Lane community proved she was home and hearth, something he definitely was not and never would be.
“Earth to Tyler!”
Tyler jerked his head up to find Kate hovering over him. Her breasts were just about eye level, and Tyler shoved his hands under his legs.
“Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to unpack? Didn’t you hear me? They’ve finished your bedroom and Harold wants to know if you’re happy with where the movers put the furniture. If you are, you’d better hurry in there before they decide to rearrange it and move it around themselves.”
Tyler gave a short laugh before standing up and stretching. “I’d better go survey the scene.”
“You’d better. I’ve never seen so many men trying to play Hercules.”
As Kate smiled, Tyler’s gut clenched. He attempted to put the evening into proper perspective. “By the way, in case I forget to tell you later, thanks for organizing this.”
“No problem,” she said.
“No, really,” Tyler insisted. He gestured around. “I’ll have to tell my sister I lucked out. She’s the one who picked out this house. I’m glad I listened to her. You guys are great.”
Kate stepped away and vigorously wiped the counter, the same one she had scoured earlier. “Well,” she said, refusing to look at him, “consider it your housewarming present from all of us. Dogwood Lane is a pretty special place. We’re more than a street. We’re a neighborhood.”
“I’d definitely say so.” Tyler couldn’t resist. He rose and approached her. His fingers snaked forward and tugged on the infernal bun that was driving