Lone Star Millionaire (17 page)

“The alternative is her going on that skating date with a boy.”

“She's not dating until she's thirty. Do you hear me? Neither are all the other daughters we have together.”

She laughed as they walked down the stairs. It was barely eight o'clock in the morning, and it already promised to be the most wonderful day of her life.

To Susan Mallery—together again after all these years. Thanks for everything, but especially for the friendship.

Teresa Southwick

“S
omeone's been cooking in my kitchen.”

Staring at the beautiful stranger in front of his stove, Scott Matthews figured he'd hit a low point even for him. His life was reduced to a culinary caper of
Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
Except the woman wasn't a blonde. She had hair like brown silk, eyes warm as hot cocoa and was
not
sleeping in his bed.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked, annoyed that the sleeping-in-his-bed thought sent a shaft of heat through him.

She wielded a spatula like a conductor's baton. “Who are
you?
” she demanded.

“I live here.”

“You're Kendra's father?”

“Scott Matthews,” he introduced himself.

“But you don't look old enough to have an eighteen-year-old daughter,” she said, obviously surprised.

“Trust me, I am.”

It's what happened when a guy thought with the brain south of his belt and had the first of two daughters when he was barely out of his teens.

“So you started your family when you were what? Ten?”

“Not quite.” The compliment about his youthful appearance almost made him miss the fact that she hadn't yet told him who she was. This was his kitchen and he'd be the one asking the questions.

“Who are you?”

“Thea Bell.”

“Why are you here?”

“Kendra didn't tell you?” Her confidence slipped and she looked uncomfortable.

What did his daughter have to do with anything? Was this woman using his child as an excuse to meet him? That wasn't ego talking. His wife had walked out on him thirteen years ago and after his divorce, he'd become fair game—fresh meat on the dating market.

At back-to-school night, there was always a divorced mom trying to get his attention. Or kids on his girls' sports teams had single mothers who invariably honed in on him. But they were barking up the wrong tree, because he had no interest in a relationship except the one he had with his daughters. After putting in a day's work at his family-owned construction company and then being both father and mother to the girls, dating didn't make the to-do list. And with Kendra just about to graduate and go on to college, he could see the light at the end of the parenting tunnel. Please, God, let it not be attached to a speeding locomotive.

He had news for Thea Bell. If her pickup approach was based on the way to a man's heart being through his stomach, she was dealing with the wrong man. He didn't care whether a woman could boil water or whip up a meal. He wasn't des
perate for companionship. After his train wreck of a marriage, the single life was simple.

“What was Kendra supposed to tell me?” he asked suspiciously.

“She and I have an appointment to discuss her party.”

The woman in front of him reached into the pocket of her tailored jeans and pulled out a card. He walked over to her and took it. Leaning his back against the refrigerator, he tried to ignore the sweet scent of her perfume as he read the name of her company printed in a no-nonsense font.

“For Whom the Bell Toils?” he said.

“Thea Bell toils for thee.” One corner of her full mouth turned up as she shrugged. “I'm a caterer.”

“Catchy.” He set her card on the island in front of him and folded his arms over his chest as he studied her.

“I met Kendra at a birthday party I did for one of her friends.”

“And?”

She frowned, her expression puzzled. “Did you not tell your daughter she could have a graduation party?”

“I did.”

“Then why are you acting as if I'm a cat burglar who's just broken into your home to steal the fine jewelry?”

“I have no fine jewelry.”

“You also didn't answer my question,” she pointed out.

“I told her if she wanted a party she could be responsible for the details.”

“She is being responsible for them. She's talking to a catering professional.”

“When I said details, I meant buying burgers and buns at the grocery store. Not
hiring
someone to take care of the burgers and buns.”

He hadn't seen her from the back, but he suspected Thea Bell had some fine buns of her own, because what he could see of her front was pretty fine. The silky white blouse tucked
into her tailored jeans accentuated her breasts and a slender waist that flared into the delicate curves of her hips. He might not date much, but he still knew she was the kind of woman who would make any man instantly aware of her.

He drew in a deep breath to control the spike of his pulse. “Didn't you wonder about dealing with a teenager? Or where her parents were?”

“It's not unusual. Many parents work. They're busy and give their teenagers a lot of responsibility, especially when the teen is hosting the party. Not unlike what you said to Kendra about handling everything.”

She was sharp. Using his own words against him. “How do I know you're a reputable caterer?”

“I have a list of references. You can check with the Better Business Bureau and the Santa Clarita Chamber of Commerce. If a complaint has been registered with either agency, I'll eat my spatula.” She glanced at it, then back at him. “Your spatula.”

It took several moments before he realized he was staring at her mouth. Her lips were plump and pink and… And giving them enough notice to attach adjectives really whipped up his irritation.

“Where is my daughter?”

“You say that as if you think I've done something with her.”

“Have you?”

“Of course not,” she denied. “She went up to her room to find a picture to show me, something for the party's theme.”

“Graduation isn't enough?”

“She had something in mind. For the table decorations.”

“She needs decorations?”

“Technically? No.” She sighed. “But it's a touch that adds an air of festivity to any gathering. It isn't just about food, it's about ambience. When guests walk in, you want them in a party mood. Decorations do that.”

“And have you discussed with my daughter how much this is going to cost? And who's paying for it?”

“Not yet. I can't estimate until firm decisions are made about food, decorations and the number of guests.”

“I see, so—”

Scott heard the unmistakable sound of his daughter galumphing down the stairs. A five-point-eight on the Richter scale, he estimated.

When Kendra entered the kitchen, she stopped so fast her sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. “Dad. What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

His dark-haired, blue-eyed daughter glanced from him to Thea and then back again. She had guilt written all over her.

Kendra moved closer to Thea. His daughter took after him in the height department. She was tall, nearly five feet ten, and made the other woman look even smaller by comparison. “I just meant, you're home early. How come?”

“I'm meeting a real-estate agent here to get a market evaluation of the house.”

The teen speared him with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Define ‘market evaluation,' Dad.”

He should have channeled Kendra's question back to how she planned to get away with hiring a caterer when she hadn't cleared it with him. His lapse was directly due to the distraction of Thea Bell. When a man came home and found a beautiful woman in his kitchen, it tended to throw him off. Especially a man like himself, who was more comfortable with the tool belt and nail gun set. But he'd opened his mouth and now had to figure out what to do with the foot he'd inserted.

“The agent is coming to see the place and figure out how much it's worth on today's market. You know her. It's Joyce Rivers, Bernie's wife.”

“I know Joyce,” Thea chimed in. “We met at a Santa Clarita professional women's group. She's great.”

“Why do you need Joyce to tell you how much the house is worth?” Kendra asked, refusing to be distracted.

His youngest child had been a handful since she'd turned twelve. Why should now be any different? Her older sister was an easygoing rule-follower who hadn't prepared him for Kendra's episodes of rebellion. But Kendra was going off to college soon and he wouldn't need this big house. That's why he'd arranged for Joyce to do the market evaluation and the best time for both of them happened to be when Kendra was in school. Speaking of which…

“Why aren't you in school?” he demanded.

“I told you last night,” she said, sighing in exasperation as she rolled her eyes. “Today is a half-day schedule because the teachers had an end-of-quarter grading day.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He didn't remember her saying a word about it.

“As usual, you weren't listening.” She put her hands on her hips. “You're going to sell the house, aren't you?”

Scott didn't want to have this conversation at all, let alone in front of a total stranger. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Maybe I should go,” Thea said.

“Please don't,” Kendra pleaded. Then she turned her patented drop-dead stare on him and huffed out a hostile breath. “Evasive tactics mean I'm right. I don't believe this. I'm not even finished with high school and you're selling my home out from under me. What if I go to the local junior college? Do you remember me telling you about that?”

“I'm not selling anything,” he said, avoiding her question.

“Then why do you need to know how much the house is worth?”

“Maybe I want to refinance my loan,” he countered.

“Do you?”

It was times like this when he wished he could lie. But
he'd made it a point to be as honest with his daughters as he knew how. “No.”

“I knew it,” Kendra said. “You can't wait to get rid of me. That's why you're pushing me to go away to college.”

“You're wrong, Ken. I'm not pushing you to do anything.”

“You didn't want to hear about the local community college.”

“I want you to have the total college experience. Like your sister—”

“Perfect Gail.” The aside was directed to Thea.

“I'm sure that's not what your father meant,” she said, glancing at him.

“I'm sure he did. My sister does everything right and I'm the screwup.”

“Coincidentally, Joyce did a market evaluation on my condo,” Thea said, changing the subject.

“Are you selling it?” Kendra asked, toning down her hostility for the caterer.

Scott almost felt sorry for Thea, getting caught in the crossfire. But his empathy was mitigated by the fact that the woman had chosen to conduct business with a teenager instead of her parent. He decided not to analyze why it seemed better to focus on Thea's error in judgment rather than her noble attempt to defuse the situation. Or his daughter's rebellious streak that had created this multi-level farce in the first place.

“Actually, I am selling,” she admitted. “I'm looking for a single-family home in a nice neighborhood.”

Kendra cranked the animosity back up when she looked at him. “My dad just happens to have one for sale. Maybe he'll give you a good deal. He can't wait to unload this place, along with me.”

“Ken, you're being overly dramatic…”

The ringing doorbell interrupted him. If only he felt saved by the bell. “That must be Joyce now.”

“I'm going to Zoe's.” Kendra grabbed her purse off of the built-in desk beside the pantry and stomped out of the room.

“Kendra, wait. You know how I feel about Zoe—” When the inside door to the garage slammed, Scott sighed. Then the doorbell rang again and he went to answer it.

Thea looked around the empty kitchen feeling about as useful as one chopstick. Could this be any more awkward? She'd had dealings with teens before, but always after first contact was made by the parent and the dynamics of the working relationship were spelled out. But there was something about Kendra. When they'd met at her friend's party, she'd felt the girl reaching out. Thea had seen something in Kendra's eyes that was an awful lot like sadness. Thea figured she recognized the emotion because she'd lived with it every day for the last two years.

When Kendra had called to inquire about hiring her for a graduation party, Thea had made an exception. Today she'd brought samples of food for the teen and showed her an album of pictures displaying her work. Thea had planned to get into the business details of a signed contract and a deposit check when Scott walked in.

Kendra had only said her father was a busy building contractor who couldn't be bothered with her party. The teen hadn't mentioned how very attractive the father in question was. His dark hair, blue eyes and good looks definitely made Thea's female hormones sit up and take notice. However, her hormones had been on high alert for a while now. So her noticing him could simply be chemically induced.

But clearly his irritation about finding her in his kitchen had been all too real. Maybe if he knew how very important the party was to his daughter, he'd cut her a little slack on leaving him out of the loop.

As she stood there trying to decide what to do, Scott led Joyce Rivers into the kitchen. The tall brunette looked around.
When she noticed Thea, she smiled. “Hello, there. I didn't know you and Scott knew each other.”

“We just met,” Thea said.

“Just,” he agreed, his tone cool.

When he said nothing further, she figured he didn't want Kendra's role in their meeting made public. But the look glittering in his very blue eyes told her his daughter would get an earful when she came home.

Joyce tapped her lip. “You know, Thea, when we talked about what you were looking for in a home, I thought about this house.”

“Really?” Scott said. “Even though I hadn't decided to sell?”

“You indicated to Bernie and me that when Kendra was finished with high school, you were going to downsize. Isn't she graduating in a couple of months?”