Dating the Guy Next Door (5 page)

Kate fiddled with the stem of her wineglass as she watched Matt carry away the empty pasta plates while Socrates did his best to block the path. The food had been amazing, Matt had been the perfect dinner companion and the wine had managed to loosen the stiffness between her shoulder blades that came from too many late nights in her studio. Unfortunately, it had also managed to make her forget that staring at her neighbor's well-shaped legs as he left the room was not on her to-do list. In fact, it was very much on her to-don't list. Which was a pity, because they were very nice legs. As was the rest of him.

A traitorous sigh escaped her lips.

She'd thought he'd looked gorgeous in his crisp white shirt and linen trousers, but that was nothing compared to how he looked in the old pair of jeans and plain navy shirt that she'd brought back for him. Why hadn't she grabbed some old sweats instead? Then again, she had the feeling that no matter what Matt was wearing, her pulse would still flutter in his presence.

It hadn't helped that he was so easy to talk to and they'd spent the entire meal trading disaster stories of contractors before moving on to their shared secret fear of horror movies and ending up discussing one of Seattle's best known bookstores. All leaving Kate with a pleasant buzzing sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“I hope you have room for dessert.” Matt reappeared several minutes later with two small espresso cups. “Microwave brownies. I normally only make these with the twins but I couldn't find any baking tins so I figured they'd do for us. Luckily I found some flour and cocoa in the back of the cupboard.”

And he made brownies?

“Thank you.” Kate blinked as he sat down opposite her. She broke the top of the brownie with her spoon and let out a soft sigh as the cocoa and sugar hit her tongue. She wasn't much of a cook, and Harry only tended to use the kitchen to store his takeout menus, so this was new territory for her. And it involved chocolate. She took another bite and ignored the way Socrates was nudging her ankle for a taste. Even if cats could eat brownies, there was no way she wanted to share.

“You're welcome. Once the hordes have left my front door I'll make you the proper version.”

“It gets better than this?” Kate demanded as she pushed her empty cup away. She might never be able to eat a store-bought brownie again.

“Oh yeah.” He nodded as he unleashed one of his dimples on her. He was slightly flushed, probably from the heat of the kitchen, and it only seemed to emphasize the planes and angles of his face. He looked nice slightly sweaty, Kate decided as an image of him wearing not too many clothes appeared unbidden in her mind and she marveled at how his proportions were almost as magnificent as that of the statue of David.

“S-so where did you learn to cook?” she stammered while desperately trying to push her unruly thoughts to the back of her mind.

“My mom taught me,” he said before twitching his lips in amusement as if he knew she was purposely changing the
subject. Her cheeks heated. “My father can't even boil water and she refused to let another male into the world who couldn't feed themselves.”

“Wow, the only thing my mom tried to teach me was how to put on lipstick. Sadly, it was never one of my strengths,” Kate admitted in a light voice, while trying to imagine her mother fussing over a stove. Even with her flexible imagination, it wasn't something she could picture. Nor did she want to be thinking about Julia right now.

“If it's any consolation, I could never master lipstick either.” Matt grinned as he stood up and began to clear away the last of the dishes. She'd tried to help earlier but he'd refused outright, saying that he'd been enough of an inconvenience without burdening her with dishes as well. She couldn't argue with that and she watched as he made his way from the open-plan dining room across to the sink.

The ancient dishwasher that had once been in the kitchen had long ago died and replacing it wasn't high up on her list, which meant it all needed to be done by hand.

“So, this is what an organizational consultant does.” She raised an eyebrow as she watched him methodically start with the glasses before working his way through the plates and finally reaching the saucepans. He made it look like an art form, or an OCD master class.

“On a metaphorical level I guess you could say that,” he agreed as he turned and leaned against the workbench, his navy shirt slightly straining as he dried his hands. Kate tried and failed not to notice. “I like to create order from chaos.”

“Is that why you started your business?” she asked as he rejoined her at the table.

“Something like that. I guess where you see art I see systems. According to my family I've been keeping things tidy since I received my very first Lego set,” Matt said as Socrates jumped onto his lap and thrust his head forward, commanding to be patted. Matt automatically obliged and Kate found herself smiling. It was hard to not like a person who was nice to her cat.

“So, what about you? When did you decide to open an art gallery?”

“As soon I saw this building it was love at first sight,” Kate confided before the happy bubble that she was in was interrupted by the reminder of the quote she was about to receive. “Well, apart from the asbestos and the leaking pipes—which, as it happens, is what led to me discovering the asbestos. But then again I guess that's one of the joys of running your own business.”

“Definitely. I've never met a business owner who wasn't overwhelmed at times. The important thing is that you're doing something you're passionate about.”

“That's definitely the plan, though some days it feels like I'm paddling up stream in a canoe. Backward,” Kate said before clamping down on her lip. She hadn't meant to say that.

“From where I'm sitting it seems like you're doing okay. Those folks who bought the painting today seemed pretty pleased, and you've obviously got some more sales lined up, judging by all the paintings you were taking to the framer.”

“I hope so, though they're actually for an upcoming meeting with Monica and Calvin Peterson,” Kate said. “They're
opening a new restaurant over at Kirkland.”

“I've heard about that place and it sounds like it's going to be pretty amazing,” Matt said with an impressed gleam in his eye. “I'm sure that they'll love your work.”

“I wish it was that simple,” Kate sighed. One of the by-products of being married to Harry was that she'd learned firsthand how the fickle art world worked and often it was who you knew, not what you did. Then she peered at Matt through her lashes. “Besides, for all you know I might be presenting them with something completely hideous.”

“Well, we won't know unless you show them to me,” he challenged before wrinkling his nose in a comical expression. “Unless of course it's bad luck to show them to anyone before the big day.”

“I think you're getting confused with a bride on her wedding. As far as art goes, it's only bad luck if they spill something on it or set it on fire,” Kate said, while at the same time trying to ignore the smoothness of his jaw as he spoke. “Do you really want to see them? You don't have to pretend to be interested just because I've taken pity on you.”

“Trust me, if you collected toe nail clippings, I definitely wouldn't ask, but I've already seen your work in the gallery and what you've got on the walls up here,” he said as he nodded to several large canvases that were hanging from her walls. “And I'm intrigued,” he assured her with yet another smile, which caused her heart to pound against her ribs.

She tried to tell herself that it was just the same nerves that she always felt when showing her work to someone new, but as Matt stood up from the table and she looked up at his six-foot physique with broad shoulders, a smile to die for and eyes that she seemed to get lost in, she wasn't so sure. She sucked in her breath as they made their way down to her studio.

Her mural plan was to do an oversized image of Seattle in a combination of muted browns, olives and blues, much like some of the original paint by numbers, with a series of framed smaller painting all taken from different parts of Seattle. It was a definite risk but from the moment she'd received the phone call about the pitch, the idea had exploded in her head, leaving her no choice. She swallowed hard as she watched Matt carefully study it. It was stupid to care what his opinion was. After all, she knew nothing about him. Nothing about his tastes or his thoughts on art, but as he turned to her, his dark eyes were bright with wonder and Kate's whole body vibrated in response.

“I—” he started to say before licking his lips and helplessly lifting his hands into the air. “Nope. I don't even have words to describe how these make me feel. I'm sure your art friends could explain it properly, but all I can say is that these make my heart smile. It's like I can feel these images running through my veins. Is that even a thing?”

“If it isn't a thing, then it should be.” She gave him a shy voice as a lump formed her throat. Art was such a fleeting thing. So subjective and so often she'd been forced to use words when all she wanted to do was convey emotions through images.

“Are you sure? I hope I haven't offended you, it's just I can't think of anything that would do this justice. I'm in awe. Truly,” he said, as a shiver raced down her arm. “And I meant what I said. The Petersons will love your work.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she looked and realized how close he was. He smelled of cooking and brownies, and a tiny sigh escaped her lips. It was like she'd always known him, and he was so close. All she had to do was
reach up and press her mouth to his. Feel his skin on hers. But before she could, the sound of Matt's cell phone cut through the space between them and Kate jumped as if she'd been physically hit, while Matt gave her an apologetic grimace.

“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled as the buzz continued. “Normally I would've turned it off, but with the twins being sick and all . . .”

“O-of course,” Kate stammered, still trying to regain her composure as she busied herself tidying the sketches while Matt studied the screen, his face impossible to decipher. Finally he looked up.

“It's from Keith. He's outside and has assured me that my place is now clear of women.”

“Oh.” Kate widened her eyes. “D-do you want to ask him in?”

“Definitely not.” Matt shook his head as his fingers flew across the screen, obviously replying to Keith's message. “But it does mean I can finally get out of your hair.”

“Right,” Kate agreed, trying not to be offended at how eager he was to leave. Which was ridiculous since she'd only known him for less than twelve hours. And she'd almost kissed him. She let out an inward groan. No wonder he was in such a hurry to go. Had she really been about to kiss her new neighbor just because he'd said nice things about her art? The worst of it was he'd spent the day avoiding a bunch of crazy women only to have another crazy woman launch herself at him.

This was why it was easier to swear off men all together. She was less likely to accidentally seduce them. She bit back another groan.

“So I guess I'd better go and collect my laptop and files,” Matt said as he awkwardly toyed with the cell phone. “But I just wanted to say thank you again for your hospitality. You really went above and beyond the call of neighborly duty.”

“Please, it was nothing.” Kate forced her voice to stay casual as she followed him back upstairs and watched as he gathered up his things, pausing only to straighten up the tea towel that he'd left hanging in the kitchen. “I guess I'll see you around.”

“Sure,” Matt said as his cell phone once again buzzed, causing an annoyed flicker to race across his face. “Okay, I'd better leave you in peace. I know you've still got a lot of work to do.”

“Right. Work.” Kate nodded as he gave her a final smile before heading back down the stairs and out into the night. Unfortunately, Kate had the bad feeling that she'd be spending half the night thinking about what a fool she'd almost made of herself with the guy next door.

Get out of your hair?
Matt repeated to himself the next morning as he sat as his desk and thought about the previous night.
Good one, idiot. Up there with other such classic lines such as
the rash has almost gone
and
how about Saturday's game?

It had, of course, completely broken the mood. Not that he was sure quite where the mood had come from. But somehow between appearing like an imbecile when it came to art and receiving the text message from Keith, there had most definitely been a mood. A sexy mood. The kind that made him want to kiss Kate. To lean over and feel her soft skin and nice smells. To try and kiss each of her freckles one by one before trailing down her long neck.

The only thing that had stopped him was the fact that underneath her lighthearted comments about her business and the large hole in her ceiling, he got the feeling that she really needed the Petersons' commission. Which meant the last thing she needed was to be distracted when she still had work to do.

Sometimes he really hated being a nice guy.

Of course, it hadn't helped that Keith had turned up, and knowing his boundary-challenged friend, he would've started knocking on Kate's door and invited himself in. It was bad enough that Matt had forced himself into her life for an entire day and night, but it would've been worse if he'd inflicted her with Keith's over-the-top personality. And so he'd done the right thing. He'd thanked her for her hospitality and then spent the next hour convincing Keith that he definitely wasn't going to change his mind about the competition, before falling into a restless sleep with his dreams full of images of Kate.

The result was that he had woken up feeling as stiff and twisted as a Rubik's Cube. He loosened his shoulders and wondered for the hundredth time what she was doing. Had she stayed up all night working? Had she remembered that he'd put leftovers in her fridge in case she got hungry? More important, had she managed to get any sleep?

Unfortunately, while her gallery had a wide window that looked out onto the street, his office was a lot more closed off. Of course, if a person was to stand on their toes, they could just about see through the small piece of glass above the door. Not that he'd done that, because it was one thing to beg someone to hide you for a day, but it was another thing to act like you were stalking them. Which he clearly wasn't doing.

He took a deep breath and pushed aside the report he was working on. He'd planned to get it finished an hour ago yet he still wasn't halfway through it. The fact that the report was actually on how to create greater efficiency in the workplace wasn't lost on him.

Then again, it wasn't his fault that his new neighbor was so tantalizing.

The only other thorn in the evening apart from the lack of kissing was that he hadn't quite managed to ask her what her thoughts were on having a family. He glanced at the list of mock questions he'd drawn up to help him broach the subject and was just about to add a couple more when his cell phone buzzed and Emma's name flashed up on the screen.

“Hey,” he answered. “How are the troops holding up?”

“Let's just say that they're itchy and scratchy and that they're only going to get worse before they get better,” his sister said, and Matt felt a pang of guilt go through him. Their whole family was close and he hated it when there was a problem he couldn't fix. Like chicken pox. “But for five minutes I don't want to talk about spots. I want to have a normal adult conversation about normal things. Go.”

“I'll try and oblige,” Matt said doubtfully. “But my life's been anything but normal lately.”

“Oh yes, now, what's all this radio business about? I heard something about it last night but it didn't make much sense. What happened?”

“What didn't happen?” Matt said before he quickly filled her in on the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“Keith's an idiot,” Emma informed him once he'd finished the whole sorry tale. “A complete idiot. And I'm only glad my husband wasn't here because I'm sure that otherwise he would've somehow been involved in the whole stupid thing.”

He nodded his head in agreement. Matt, Keith and Sam had known each other since they were ten, and apart from when Sam had managed to fall in love with Matt's baby sister, they'd pretty much done everything together. Of course, as they'd gotten older, some things had changed. Now instead of going out drinking all night, they preferred to have an afternoon BBQ with a couple of beers and maybe a game or two of golf, but all in all they were still friends.

“Agreed. Thankfully the station's lawyers insisted that Keith do a public retraction in case I decided to sue them, which means my doorstep has been woman-free since nine o'clock last night. Looks like my fifteen minutes of fame are up,” Matt said quickly. He forgot how vehemently Emma protected those who she loved. She was like a lioness hovering over her cubs. Their mother was the same and he could remember more than one occasion when she'd gone into battle with teachers, bus drivers and even a librarian because she'd felt that her kids hadn't been treated fairly. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Matt was so eager to have a family. He wanted that same type of tight unit that he and Emma had been raised in and that his sister was re-creating in her own home.

“I guess I'll have to take your word for it,” his sister retorted skeptically. “But I still don't understand where he got the idea from in the first place, do you?”

He bit his lip and kept silent.

“Matt,” Emma repeated. “Where did he get the idea from?”

“Okay,” he finally admitted. “So maybe I mentioned something to Keith the other day.”

“What exactly do you mean by
something
?”

“Something about wanting kids,” Matt sighed as he slumped back into his seat and waited for the ensuring explosion. He wasn't disappointed.

“You what?”

“Well, it's true.” He tried to ignore his sister's tone. “I do want kids. Soon. Hell, Emma, I'm not getting any younger.”

“Or brighter,” she retorted caustically. “Considering that none of your girlfriends have been remotely maternal.”

“Yes, but that's all going to change,” Matt told her as he thought about Kate and how much she seemed to dote on her
hairy, ginger cat. Well, if she could love that, then she was obviously extremely maternal.

“Really?”

“No more dating women who don't want babies. And if it isn't too much to ask, they might even like watching soccer as well.”

“You've got to be joking.”

“Okay,” Matt conceded reluctantly. “I guess the soccer thing isn't so important, but I'm not joking about the rest. I want kids and I don't want to spend three years in a relationship before finding out that my partner doesn't. Is that so bad?”

“Yes. It's ridiculous.” He could almost see Emma shaking her head in disapproval. “Do you really think that you can run your love life like you run your business? What are you going to do? Have a frank discussion within the first five minutes of meeting someone? Perhaps you should get it printed on a T-shirt to save time? Or use it as your Twitter handle.”

“Of course not,” he protested, and when his sister didn't answer he let out a small sigh. “Fine, I might've made a very short list of questions.”

“You were going to survey potential girlfriends?” Emma groaned. “Matt, I know you like to be efficient, but life isn't always about neat lines. You have to get messy.”

“I can get messy,” Matt retorted as he thought of Kate and grinned. If hanging out with her in a chaotic studio was what messy felt like, then he was all for it.

“Please.” Emma gave an undignified grunt. “In fourth grade you refused to sit on the floor because of germs, and you can't go and dictate how you want things to be, which is why Keith's idea is stupid.”

“No arguments here,” Matt assured her. “No one thinks it's more stupid than I do. In fact if stupid had a gold medal, Keith's idea would get it. But that doesn't mean it's wrong for me to focus on getting what I want.”

“Hey,” Emma said in a softer voice. “I know you worry about this, but you're not him.”

For a moment Matt was silent as a vision of the “him” flashed into his mind. Everyone always said that Matt was the exact image of his father's brother, Mathew, and while he knew they were only referring to the way he looked and their shared name, Matt's great fear was that the similarities might go deeper than that. Especially since his uncle shared a similar passion for business organization and had run a very successful electronics company until he'd died of a heart attack five years ago.

Uncle Mathew had always put his work and business first, assuming that when the right woman came along he'd settle down. But that didn't happen and he'd ended up dying alone in a New York hospital. A life and death, all unplanned.

And while Matt knew that he would always have his parents and his sister's family, it wasn't enough. He wanted it for himself. He wanted to be different from his namesake.

“I'm fine.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Besides, as it happens I might have met someone.”

“What? Who? And why didn't you lead with this information?” his sister demanded in a rush. “Details. Now.”

“Well, remember I said that I hid out in the art gallery next door yesterday?” Matt said as he got to his feet and walked
up the stairs to his apartment above the office. “I might've forgotten to mention that the owner was pretty gorgeous. Her name's Kate.”

“An artist named Kate?” Emma squealed. “I like the sound of her already. Have you asked her out yet?”

“No,” Matt admitted with a frown. “Yesterday was kind of topsy-turvy, but I definitely plan to do it today.”

“Good, and please explain that you were suffering from temporary insanity when you mentioned the baby thing to Keith,” Emma said in a strict voice. “In fact, would you like me to write you a note? I could explain that apart from your excessive neatness you're a pretty nice guy who only occasionally does dumb things.”

“Yeah, I read in a dating handbook that the best way to get a girl to say yes is by giving her a note from his sister,” Matt retorted.

“No need to be smart,” Emma said. “I'm just trying to help.”

“I know, but I have asked women out before,” Matt replied. “And come to think of it I'm not sure Kate knows what the competition was about. I certainly didn't mention it and she didn't appear to use the Internet much or have the radio on.”

“An ostrich? Well, that's promising.” Emma sounded happier as Matt walked into his open-plan kitchen and peered out the window that looked out onto the street below. “She might even say yes.”

“What's that mean?”

“It means that who in their right mind would say yes to go on a date with a guy who's eyeing up their womb as the potential incubator for his child?”

“I told you, it's not like that,” he was stung into retorting. He might be efficient but it didn't mean he wasn't romantic. All he was trying to do was let the two things operate side by side. Was that really so bad?

“So why do you want to date her, then?”

“Because she's—” Matt paused and licked his lips as he tried to explain the connection he felt to her. Or the way her mouth pressed together when she was concentrating, or the little furrow between her brows when she mentioned the problems she had with her building. But try as he might, no words came and he let out a helpless sigh. “Because I just want to.”

He inwardly groaned. Perhaps he wasn't as romantic as he thought, but for whatever reason Emma seemed perfectly satisfied with his answer.

“Well, let me tell you something. I'm your sister and I love you, but Kate only met you yesterday so she has no idea how amazing and wonderful you are. And trust me, if you go with your list of crazy questions and your desire to be a father within a set time limit, she'll run a mile. So, if you want my advice, throw out the list and just get to know each other. Test the waters, have some fun and then if you think that the relationship has legs you can sit down and have the conversation with her, without terrifying the pants off her.”

For a moment Matt was silent as he considered the possibility before finally nodding his head. “Okay. Since your advice can't be worse than Keith's, I'll give it a go.”

“Thank you,” his sister said before sighing. “I can hear crying, which means my five minutes is up.”

“Okay. Take care and tell the twins there's a trip to the movies when they're disease free, and I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Emma said before finishing the call. Matt then tried to turn his attention back to the report but instead found himself writing a list of possible ways to ask Kate out on a date. At the back of his mind he could hear Emma trying to tell him that romance wasn't like that. That it was messy and spontaneous, but Matt ignored it. He didn't care what his sister thought because he knew that the best way to get what he wanted was to plan it, and right now he wanted to get to know Kate more than he'd wanted anything in a long, long time.

***

“How much?” Kate held the cell phone away from her ear as if hoping that it would somehow change the price that Bernie had quoted her. Unsurprisingly, it didn't.

“Like I explained, that's how much it costs to get it removed,” Bernie said in a dour voice. “Oh, and you'll need to move out for at least two days.”

Of course she would. Kate sat down in the old chair in the corner of her studio. It had been left behind by the previous owner and she normally used it when she wanted to sketch, but it turned out that it was also useful for apocalyptic events such as mind-blowing expenses.

“So, when you can do it?” She used her spare arm to grip the side of the chair as she sucked in a lungful of calming air.