And Then He Kissed Me. Teresa Southwick

And how do you know you’re not interested?”

      “I thought you were selling something.”

      “Not exactly. Are you going to invite me in?”

      “The place is a mess.”

      “Is it fatal?”

      “Sarah and I have built up immunities.” She returned his smile and opened the door wider. “Enter at your own risk.”

      “Thanks.”

      She rested her sweatpants-clad hip against the back of the love seat and folded her arms across her chest. “To what do I owe this visit? Is everything all right? Did the restaurant burn down? A fire in the kitchen? Mutiny in the ranks?”

      His dark brows drew together. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a glass-is-half-empty sort of person?”

      “Yes. So before my imagination really gets revved up, you might want to tell me what you’re doing here.”

      “I’d like to think it’s a good thing.” He looked down at her. “I’m here to invite you to dinner.”

      “Dinner?” Abby resisted her inclination to feel Nick’s forehead for signs of fever and delirium.

      What in the world was he thinking? Going out with the hired help? He was too young for a midlife crisis. Although she’d never seen that particular gleam in his eyes. And he wasn’t wearing his customary suit. It was Saturday, but his reputation for working seven days a week was legendary. So she didn’t often see him in casual clothes. And a good thing, too.

      His jeans and the long-sleeved white shirt rolled to the elbows highlighted his masculinity. Casual clothes on Nick were dangerous to her unbreakable rule. Work attire was comfortable and safe. Besides reminding her that she needed to maintain a professional relationship, his suit jacket hid that great butt—

      Whoa, Abby. Don’t go there. This was shaky ground. He was her boss. She had no business critiquing his anatomy, even if it did kick up her heart rate. What was her world coming to?

      No good. That’s what. And not fair, since she was dressed in gray sweats and no makeup, a scary proposition at best.

      She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I can’t drop everything.”

      “You don’t have to drop anything,” he said. “In fact I recommend against dropping breakables.”

      “You know that’s not what I meant. I have things to do.”

      He looked at his watch. “If I pick you up at seven-thirty, will that give you enough time?”

      “There’s never enough time,” she said.

      He shook his head sympathetically. “You need to have some fun, Ab.”

      “No, I don’t.” That came out so witchy. She sighed. “I don’t mean to be rude, Nick, but just which part of no didn’t you understand?”

      “The N and the O.” He folded his arms over his chest and grinned down at her.

      “You know we could have had this conversation on the phone,” she said.

      “I had a feeling you would resist the idea. I thought it might take some convincing, and it’s not as easy to get rid of me in person.”

      Abby let out a long breath. If she had known he was selling something, she would never have opened the door. And her day off had started out so well. She had formulated a plan. Life was so much easier that way. If she deviated from her daily goals, there would be more to do tomorrow. Her outline of the day hadn’t included convincing Nick that she couldn’t forget her responsibilities and go play with him.

      “Let me explain this to you,” she said. “No is a negative response to a proposition or situation. It means I can’t accompany you. But I appreciate the thought. It’s very sweet—”

      “Look at it this way, Ab. If you’re going to do footloose and fancy-free someday, you need experience. You’re the one who’s facing the light at the end of the tunnel Carefree abandon doesn’t just happen. It needs single-minded training, determination, practice and sacrifice.”

      “So going out to dinner is actually the first lesson in Footloose and Fancy-Free 101?”

      “Yeah.” He grinned. “The prerequisite is Spontaneity 100.”

      She shook her head. “It’s very nice of you, Nick. I’d rather do anything than search and destroy dust bunnies in this place,” she said, grimly looking around her living room.

      “But?” he prompted.

      “I have responsibilities. If I don’t take care of them, my little boat will capsize. I have too much to do.”

      “Name three things that will tank you if they’re not done because you go out to dinner tonight,” he said, confidence oozing from him.

      It wasn’t easy arguing with Mr. Perfect. If only his hair was sticking up in the back, or there was dirt on his handsome face or lettuce between his teeth. Anything that would put him on the level of someone like her. But that would never happen. He would always be at the head of the banquet table, and she would be in the corner trying to corral the dust bunnies.

      “I’m waiting,” he said. “Three reasons you can’t throw caution to the wind and go with me.”

      She had a sneaking suspicion he knew what she would say, and was prepared to bob and weave, and block her at every turn. “Okay. My classes.”

      “It’s Saturday. You don’t have a class today.”

      “But I’m up to my ears in homework, and Sarah may have plans and need transportation.”

      “So do your homework this afternoon and I’ll alert Ma to be on call with the Beamer for Sarah tonight. What’s your third excuse?”

      “The health department.”

      “What?”

      “They’re going to shut this place down if I don’t clean it.”

      She squirmed uncomfortably when his black eyes narrowed on her. “You’re reaching with that one. What are you afraid of, Abby? Me?”

      “Of course not.” That was only half-true. She was cautious of him, or rather spending time with him that wasn’t work-related.

      She understood work, and her place in the scheme of things. He was proposing a Cinderella scenario. Take her to dinner—translation, the ball. Let her have some fun and see how the other half lives. But at midnight the fairy tale would be over. He was right. She was afraid—to see the other side. Afraid of facing life after her matching horses and golden coach turned back into a pumpkin and dust bunnies.

      Nick Marchetti was Prince Charming in a business suit. He was handsome, funny, and didn’t have to worry about paying his electric bill if he used too much power during a heat wave. He was so far out of her league, it wasn’t funny. When it was her turn at the plate, she wanted to swing away. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to date. She wanted enough time to nurture a budding relationship.

      It wouldn’t be easy to take the first step; so she would wait until her life simplified and she had the time to devote to a man. She had enough scars to convince her that unless she waited for her turn, the romance in her crystal ball was doomed to failure. When she had a clear field, she would give it a try. But what guy could compare favorably to Nick?

      All of that wasn’t the worst. What scared her most was that the delicate balance between work and friendship would be somehow altered. After her parents had died, she’d assumed adult responsibilities. She hadn’t known how to handle the legal matters, let alone how or what to do with the house. Nick had stepped in and advised her. Besides her sister, their relationship was the brightest part of her life. Knowing he was there, whether she needed him or not, had gotten her through the rough times. She didn’t want to jeopardize what they