Not For Me (3 page)

Or maybe Jon would tell her that Grant had lost his virginity in a snow fort. Grant wished he’d never told his brother that, or
anything
about his sex life or current lack thereof.

He turned away from Lake Ontario and looked into the restaurant. Kristy was still on the phone, and she smiled and waved at him. He nodded back and attempted a smile. But she was on the phone with his brother and, from the look of things, very much enjoying the conversation, and he had trouble putting a genuine expression of joy on his face. Because yeah, he was jealous. Stupid, perhaps, but there it was.

Well, time to go back in there and do the best he could.

When Grant sat down, she said to Jon, “He’s back. I should go…Do you want to talk to him?…Okay. Nice to talk to you, too. Give me a call sometime.” She put the phone on the table.

“He’s married,” Grant said.

“I know. You mentioned it.” She took a sip of her martini. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking of that at all.”

“Good.”

Perhaps he’d spoken a bit harshly because she frowned.

“Anyway,” she said, “he said he’d call you tomorrow.”

Yeah, he knew Jon would call tomorrow and press him for details. He just couldn’t believe his brother had called
during
his non-date.

“What sort of things did he tell you? The horse-and-diaper story?”

“He sure did.”

Grant shut his eyes. “I knew it.”

“Come on. You were three. It was hilarious.”

Maybe it was. But not the kind of thing he needed Kristy to hear.

She reached over to touch his arm. “And if you didn’t want me to know about it, you shouldn’t have brought it up. Because if Jon hadn’t told me, I would have made you tell it the instant you said ‘horse-and-diaper story.’”

He chuckled. “I suppose you would have.” The feel of her fingers on his arm lingered, distracting him from the conversation. He finally forced out some words. “What else did he tell you?”

“He told me about some of the things you built when you were younger. Like a train for a Lego competition and a very impressive snow fort.”

Oh no
. “What did he tell you about the snow fort?”

“Not much. Just that it was in the local paper.”

Yes, he and Callie had had a good laugh about that. Thankfully Jon hadn’t mentioned what Grant and Callie had done
in
the snow fort.

“What were you afraid he might have told me?”

Grant shrugged.

“Okay. I won’t ask.”

“I think you owe me a story now,” he said.

A slow smile spread across Kristy’s face. So pretty. “I took the kitchen scissors to my sister’s favorite teddy bear when I was five because she wouldn’t let me play with her. I took out all the stuffing and left a mess of teddy-bear guts on her bed. We laugh about it now, and my parents love telling that story. But it’s not an
embarrassing
story, although I’m not sure yours was all that embarrassing either.”

“You don’t—”

“My brother caught me in a heavy make-out session with my boyfriend when I was fifteen. He came to tell me dinner was ready. When he opened the door to my room, he shrieked like a child. Embarrassing for both of us.”

She was blushing and looking at the floor. Grant wanted to touch her arm like she’d touched his, but he didn’t trust himself not to get carried away. He definitely wouldn’t mind a heavy make-out session with her. In fact, he’d thought quite a bit about just that over the past week.

Kristy had talked to Jon for fifteen minutes and heard all the crap that was normally reserved for meet-the-parents dinners, while he’d brooded on the patio. And she was still here. He wasn’t quite so nervous now.

“What else do you want to know?” he asked. “I’ll try to do a better job of answering this time. But don’t tell me too much about Maya because I want to ask her all those questions myself.”

Complete bullshit, of course. He didn’t want to go on a date with Maya; he wanted Kristy. He wanted to go out on the city’s highest rooftop patio and kiss her—it was nearly sunset—wanted to have her beneath him, wanted to wake up next to her in the morning.

There was no way he’d like Maya more than Kristy.

* * * *

The pasta was delicious. It took Kristy about fifteen minutes longer than Grant to eat—she was always a slow eater, in part because she talked a lot.

By the time she finished, she’d asked him a fair bit about his friends and job and interests. And he had this great way of listening like whatever she was saying was the most interesting thing ever, like he was paying attention to nothing but her.

She’d just set down her fork when a man said, “Grant!” She turned to see a middle-aged couple walking toward their table.

Grant jumped up and shook the man’s hand.

“This is my friend Kristy,” Grant said. “Kristy, this is Samuel.” He turned to the woman standing beside Samuel. “And this lovely lady is your wife?”

She nodded. “Miranda.”

“You told me this place was good, so here we are,” Samuel said. A brief conversation about business followed. “I’ll let you get back to your date.” He winked at Grant.

Grant didn’t correct him. “Wednesday. I’ll have it for you.”

Kristy watched the entire exchange with interest: Grant seemed like he was putting on an act.

“A client?” she asked, once Samuel and Miranda were out of earshot.

“Yes. Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” She cocked her head. “Why don’t you like working for other people?”

He was silent, but he seemed to be considering what to say next, so she said nothing.

“My dad was diagnosed with cancer several years ago,” he said at last. “At my old job, I didn’t have the flexibility in my schedule to go with him to appointments, that sort of thing. I didn’t like the bureaucracy and office politics either. Now I’m my own boss—I even have three employees now—and I can do whatever I want.” He smiled faintly.

“Your dad—”

“It’s in remission.”

“I’m glad.”

The waiter came over, collected their empty plates, and brought them dessert menus.

“It was a struggle at first,” Grant continued once the waiter had walked away. “Networking doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s not that I don’t like people—I just don’t like schmoozing, small talk, that sort of thing.”

“I understand,” she said. “Although I’m the complete opposite.”

“When I go to the dentist, I’d prefer if the hygienist didn’t talk except to tell me about my teeth.”

“If you come see me, I promise not to talk.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind because I know you. Just as long as you don’t ask me a question right after telling me not to move my mouth. I hate that.”

* * * *

After coffee and dessert, they stood outside on the rooftop patio for a few minutes. It was May, and the night air was chilly; he draped his sports jacket over her shoulders.

“I think you pass.” Kristy smiled out at the city.

The “that’s great” or “awesome” she was expecting didn’t materialize.

“Something wrong?” She turned toward him.

“No. Everything’s fine.” Grant looked at her and tilted his head to one side, as though he was trying to figure something out.

“You should smile more.”

“So I’m told.” He paused. “I’m just surprised you agreed so fast. Thought you might want to get to know me better. Maybe see my place, and make sure I’m not a hoarder.”

“
Are
you a hoarder?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t invite you over if I were.”

It was a good idea. You could learn a lot about a man from his home. “Maybe Wednesday evening? I could swing by after dinner for a half hour.”

“Why don’t I make you dinner? I promise I won’t poison you.”

She put a finger to her lips. “Hmmm. Maybe I should do a criminal background check on you.”

“If you like.”

“I was joking.”

“But it might make Maya feel better about me,” he said, “given her ex was a drug dealer.”

“I think you need to have a reason for a criminal background check, and they might not approve of ours.”

“True.” He quirked his lips. “And I may not have been caught yet.”

“Until you poison me and I drop dead.”

“I still might not get caught. I’m that good.”

The wind picked up, and she pulled his jacket around her more tightly. It was enormous.

“Are you cold? We can go in.”

She looked at her watch. “Actually, I should be off. I’m meeting a friend.”

“Of course. I shouldn’t keep you.”

She linked her arm through his, although the height difference made it a little awkward. “I want Samuel to think your date is going well,” she said as they headed toward the door to the patio.

“Then you should kiss me.”

Oh?

He stopped walking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t think my kissing abilities are something you should be investigating for Maya.”

They continued toward the door, but she was curious now. What would it be like to kiss him? She bet his abilities would not be lacking. It would be gentle but not—

Get a grip
.

Inside, he took the jacket off her shoulders. Gently. After he folded it over his arm, she gave him a peck on the cheek. Actually, it was more his jaw than his cheek—he was tall. A perfectly chaste kiss.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he whispered, and his voice, so close to her ear, thrilled her.

Then he kissed her cheek in return, and she tried not to think of his lips on hers, of his strong arms pulling her tight against him. It was wrong to be having such thoughts. She was setting him up with Maya, and they’d make a cute couple.

“I guess we should be going.” She took a step toward the elevator. “Thank you very much for the lovely dinner.”

His feet seemed stuck to the floor, but finally he came to join her by the elevator. “Yes. Of course. And it was my pleasure.”

Mmmm. He was great. He’d win Maya over.

* * * *

“So how was it?” Allison asked the next morning.

“I think he’s just right.” Kristy reached for the pepper shaker. They were having brunch at a diner near her apartment.

“Just right for you or just right for Maya?”

Kristy glared at her. “Maya, of course.”

Allison pushed the potatoes around on her plate. “Maybe my mind’s going. I spent ten hours working yesterday and—”

“You work too much.”

“Perhaps,” Allison said. “Anyway, as I was saying, maybe my mind’s going, but I’m still convinced you like him. You’re more excited when you talk about Grant than you ever were about what’s his face.”

“Because it’s very exciting that I finally found the right guy for Maya.”

“Maybe you and Maya have your types mixed up.”

“Very funny.”

Allison tapped her temple. “I’m the doctor of chemistry, as I’m continually reminded.”

* * * *

“So how was it? Is she there now?”

Jon, of course, had called the following morning.

“No, she’s not,” Grant said.

“Sorry, man.”

Grant rolled his chair away from the desk. This would probably take a while. “It wasn’t actually a date. She plans to set me up with her friend, and she just wants to get to know me before she does.”

“But you like Kristy, the woman I talked to for fifteen minutes, right? Not her friend?”

“Well, I haven’t met her friend yet. But…yes.”

“She seemed to enjoy all the stories I told her,” Jon said.

“Thanks for leaving out the details of the snow-fort story.”

“Don’t worry, man, I got your back.” The bastard started laughing. “Just a moment.”

“Are you going to—”

“Hey, Sheila.” Jon may not have been speaking into the phone, but Grant could hear him clearly. “You won’t believe this. It wasn’t even a date!”

Grant put his palm to his forehead.

“So what’s the plan?” Jon was back on the phone.

“I don’t know, exactly. But I’m cooking her dinner on Wednesday.”

She’d kissed him. Innocently, on the cheek. The sort of kiss with which Europeans greeted each other. But a kiss, nonetheless. She’d even looked mildly embarrassed afterward, so maybe it wasn’t quite innocent. A guy could hope.

“I’ve got a great recipe for you to make,” Jon said.

Right. Grant was still on the phone with his brother.

“Whitley and Associates,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

“Does Grant work there?” Kristy paced the sidewalk in front of the dental office, clutching her cell to her ear.

“Of course. He’s Whitley.”

Yeah, it was a stupid question. Just to be sure.

“But he’s not in the office at the moment. Could I take a message?”

Grant had said he’d be at a meeting in Mississauga that morning, so she’d called his office to talk to one of his employees.

About what, exactly? Confirm his business was real? There were links to projects on the company website, and nothing raised any red flags.

“Actually, it was you I wanted to talk to.”

“I’m Mario. I highly doubt it’s me you want.”

“What’s he like as a boss?” she asked, although Mario might not be honest with her.

“Grant? He’s hardly Godzilla. But who’s calling?”

“You can tell him Kristy called. Thanks, that’s enough.” She didn’t want to weird Mario out any more.

“It’s enough that he doesn’t terrorize cities?” Mario said. “Really?”

* * * *

“Your place looks like it belongs to a serial killer.”

“Maybe you should reconsider that criminal background check,” Grant said from the kitchen. “May I ask why you say that?”

Kristy was studying his CD collection, which was just as well organized as his DVD and book collections. The place seemed almost too neat to be lived in, but she suspected he hadn’t cleaned up for her—this was its natural state.

“Everything’s too perfect. It’s suspicious.”

“I’ve also been told it looks like an engineer’s place.”

She wondered where he’d gotten his shelves. Very sturdy. Not like the ones in her apartment, which she’d done a poor job of assembling.

“You know, I had an engineer in today,” she said. “Chemical engineer, I think. Didn’t understand what he did. Horrible teeth.”