Summer Kisses (140 page)

Since her divorce two years before, Kelsie Collins has been determined to guard her heart and steer clear of seemingly ‘perfect’ men. An easy task considering the kind of men her matchmaking mother and her best friend, Nanci, keeps setting her up with. She allows them to set her up, knowing their hearts are in the right place and that there is no risk of her letting any man close enough to hurt her again. Her growing experience in ways to slip out of those ‘dates from hell’ prompts her to start writing a bad date survival guide. One aptly titled - OPERATION: DATE ESCAPE. And it’s during one of those escapes that sexier than sin firefighter Cole Maxwell comes to her rescue. 

Cole isn’t sure what to think when the sexy redhead he’s just ‘rescued’ from a bad date informs him that he’s too ‘perfect’ to date. That’s a first. He’s had relationships end because the women couldn’t handle the risks that go along with his chosen profession, but never because he’s too perfect. 

When his crew gets called out to rescue someone who is stuck in a tree, Cole finds himself once again coming to Kelsie’s rescue. This time he’s not about to let her get away without agreeing to give him a chance, even holding her high heels hostage to make it happen. She finally gives in and things heat up between them like a 3-alarm fire. But there’s more than passion between them and Cole sets out to prove to Kelsie that he’s nowhere near ‘perfect’, but he is the ‘perfect’ man for her. Can he get past the wall she’s built up around her heart? Or will he end up being just another chapter in her book of men she ran from?

“Maybe you should consider having breast enhancement surgery.”

Kelsie Collins paused mid-bite to look at her mother from across the dinner table which was, thankfully, tucked away in a far corner of the busy restaurant. “What?”

Her mother reached for another roll and scooped up a pat of butter with her knife as if she had just made mention of the weather instead of her daughter’s virtually non-existent breasts. “Now don’t go looking at me like that,” she said as she tore open the roll and slathered the butter across it. “Fake breasts are all the rage right now.”

Kelsie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn’t as if this was the first time they’d discussed this particular subject. “Maybe so,” she conceded. “But I’m not about to risk my health just to fill my bra out better.”

Her mother waved her concern away. “They’re perfectly safe now if you get the ones filled with saline.”

“Oh, well, that being the case I’ll run right out and get myself a pair.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “All I’m saying is that it certainly couldn’t hurt for you to look into them. According to my latest issue of
Cosmopolitan
, breast implants can actually boost a woman’s self-confidence level.”

Not another piece of
Cosmopolitan
advice. Kelsie rolled her eyes again with a groan, returning the half-eaten extra crispy chicken breast to her plate. “Mom, my self-confidence is not an issue. I’m perfectly content with my lesser endowments. So I’m no Playboy Bunny. Big deal.”

Her mother arched a slender brow.

Okay, so maybe her lesser endowments did bother her a little bit, but she wasn’t about to openly admit that to her mother. “Can we just drop this?”

“Now, honey, before you go and get all defensive, I’m not saying anything is wrong with your breasts as they are.” Her gaze dropped down. “You’re just naturally small.”

Unlike her mother who was
naturally
a ‘D’ cup and had the curves to go with it. She, on the other hand, was what her mother lovingly referred to as a ‘petite little pixie’. That might have been cute when she was ten, but not now. She didn’t want to be reminded that she was a twenty-seven-year-old version of Tinker Bell, minus the blonde hair. Hers was a coppery red.

“B isn’t that small,” Kelsie replied in defense of her push-up bra enhanced attributes.

Her mother stabbed at her salad. “It was just a suggestion. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you what that article in last Sunday’s paper said about how single women far outnumber the eligible, financially stable, good looking men currently out there on the market.”

If her mother expected her to go into a panic over that reminder, she had another thing coming. A committed relationship was the last thing Kelsie was looking for. Her divorce two years before had seen to that. She’d married the ‘perfect’ man who’d ended up being anything but perfect. He’d been a liar and a cheat, and she had no intention of making that same mistake ever again. She was perfectly happy with her life exactly the way it was.

The only problem was getting her mother to accept that and stop pushing for more. Her mother, of all people, should understand how she felt. Kelsie’s father, or biological sperm donor as her mother preferred to refer to him, had taken off in search of greener pastures the moment he found out his college ‘playmate’ was pregnant. Her mother never married after that. Instead, Melinda Collins had taken control of her somewhat derailed life, becoming a very successful real estate agent. Her free time was spent trying to push her daughter into relationships, determined that Kelsie have the happily-ever-after she’d never found for herself.

“Enlarging my breasts will make me a better catch for one of those few remaining ‘good catches’ how?” she asked, hoping to make her mother realize just how crazy her suggestion was.

“As if I really need to answer that,” her mother snorted. “Think about it, honey. If two women are walking toward you on the sidewalk, one with large breasts, the other lesser endowed, which woman would you notice first?”

“Neither,” Kelsie replied. “I’m not a lesbian.”

“I know that,” her mother said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m talking hypothetically. As in if you were a man,” her mother explained as she reached for her glass of ice tea.

“I suppose I would notice the one with the nicest smile.” She was a dental hygienist after all. Nice teeth were important to her.

“What if neither of them is smiling?”

“I am not getting fake boobs!” Kelsie blurted out in complete frustration. “I’m happy just the way I am. And if, that’s a huge
if
, if I ever get involved with a man again he’s going to have to like me as I am. I’m not about to let the next man I marry try to change me the way Kyle tried to!”

Had she really just shouted her reply while seated in a very crowded restaurant?
A glance around her told Kelsie she had indeed done just that. Heat flooded her cheeks.

Her mother’s eyes lit up like a stray cat in a fish market. “The next man you marry?”

She wished she could take the words back. Not so much the boob part, she still held firm on that decision, but the husband part. The last thing she wanted to do was to give her mother any reason to hope that the ‘marriage again’ thing would ever happen. She didn’t want another husband. She’d gone that route once before and had no intention of ever traveling it again. A non-committal fling would be all right she supposed. That is, if she ever found a guy she was interested in enough to get involved with -
non-committally
.

The calculating smile that slid across her matchmaking mother’s face told Kelsie she was in big trouble. She had done the one thing she’d tried her damnedest never to do when it came to discussing her relationships, or lack thereof, with her mother. She’d just given her hope.

~~~

Kelsie checked her watch again then returned to tapping her nails on the polished wood surface of the bar top. Her mother had managed to stress her out more than P.M.S. ever had. Most of it was the gleam of ‘I can’t wait for you to give me grandbabies’ she’d seen in her mother’s eyes when they’d hugged goodbye at the restaurant earlier that evening.

“You know, if ditching bad dates was an Olympic sport you’d take the gold.”

Smiling, Kelsie spun around on her bar stool to greet her best friend, Nanci. “And if being over-sexed was an Olympic sport...”

“Guaranteed gold,” her friend replied proudly. “You should try it sometime.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Yeah? Well, you haven’t been on any of the dates I’ve been on lately,” Kelsie told her with a frown. “There hasn’t been a guy yet who even so much as tempted me to consider competing in Olympic bedroom games.”

“Maybe you just need to take the time to get to know the guys you go out with instead of ditching them halfway through the date.”

Taking more time to get to know the guys she’d been set up with on dates wouldn’t have made one iota of a difference. “Speaking of time,” Kelsie muttered, determined to redirect their conversation to something other than her pathetic love life, “you’re late.”

“I know. I know. I’m running behind.” Her friend plopped her purse atop the bar and settled onto the stool next to the one Kelsie was seated on. “My last patient cancelled, so I got out of work early. But I made the mistake of stopping by the mall on my way here. They’re having their annual sidewalk sale.”

Well, that explained it. There was no such thing as a quick mall run for Nanci when sidewalk sales were involved. “So did you buy anything? Or do I even have to ask?”

“Heels,” she answered with a smile.

Kelsie laughed, not the least bit surprised. “I’m beginning to think you need to consider seeking some sort of therapy for this shoe obsession you have.” She reached for the wild berry wine cooler she’d been sipping on while she waited for Nanci to get there, bringing it to her lips.

“My shoe fetish aside, how’s the man-hater book coming along?”

She was referring to the how-to book Kelsie had been working on for women who found themselves out on a date from hell. It was filled with escape plans to get out of those bad dates. Escapes Kelsie had tested out firsthand in the two years since her divorce.

She returned her drink to the bar coaster and reached for a handful of popcorn in the napkin-lined basket beside it. “It’s not a
man-hater
book,” she said in defense of her brainchild.

Nanci shrugged. “Could have fooled me.”

“It’s a bad date survival guide.”

Her friend shook her head. “Come on, Kelsie, when are you going to realize not every guy out there is like Kyle?”

“You mean a complete and utter asshole?” And that was being charitable as far as her ex was concerned. Kyle was a self-absorbed, skirt chasing...

“He is that,” Nanci agreed. “So I’m dying to hear what happened with Gym-Boy last night? You didn’t leave any details on my answering machine, just that you’d ditched him. I take it that means there were no sparks between the two of you.”

“Oh, there were sparks all right. But they weren’t coming from me.” She reached into her purse for her lip-gloss.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems that weight-lifting isn’t his only passion.”

“Oooh,” her friend said, leaning closer. “Do tell.”

“It’s not anywhere near what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because sex is all you ever think about. Anyway, it seems Gym-Boy has a thing for souped-up cars. Only this one wasn’t up, it was down, dragging its ass end everywhere we went. We must have looked like a giant sparkler on wheels.”

Nanci laughed. “Poor you.”

“Tell me about it.”

Her friend glanced around the bar in an appraising manner. “Nice place.”

She nodded in agreement. “I pass by it on my way to work everyday, so I thought we’d give it a try.”

Her friend motioned the bartender over.

He flashed a charming grin as he leaned over the bar. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have whatever you’ve got on tap as long as it’s light,” Nanci replied with her usual flirty smile. “A girl’s got to watch her figure, you know.”

As if every man in the room wasn’t already watching it for her
, Kelsie thought with a grin.

“Looks well-kept to me,” he replied with a once-over that had her friend beaming. “One light draft coming up.” He turned to leave, but Nanci stopped him.

“Another wild berry for my friend here, too, please,” she added with a flutter of her long, mascara-coated lashes.

“But I haven’t finished this one yet,” Kelsie pointed out, holding up her more than half-full bottle.

“You will.” She waved him on. “She’ll take another.” When he walked away to get their drinks, Nanci turned in her chair to face her. “Okay, I’m dying to know. How did you escape your date last night?”

She smiled. “I made my move when we stopped for gas. When he went inside to pay and pick up a six pack, I put on a ton of my tinted lip gloss and then leaned over to the driver side to press my lips to his window.”

Nanci looked at her questioningly. “You kissed his window?”

She nodded, her grin widening. “Multiple times.”

“Strange behavior,” her friend said. “Even for you. But I’ll bite. How does kissing a window get you out of a bad date?”

“The second he saw my lip prints smudged all over his precious car’s window he flipped out. When I informed him that I intended to leave ‘love kisses’ all over his car, he made a spark-trailing bee-line straight back to my apartment, ending our date with some excuse about having to go check in on his ailing grandmother, which, by the way, I’ve added to my list of date-ending excuses.”

Nanci burst into a fit of laughter. “You are, without a doubt, the queen of creative date escapes. I just hope you realize that we’re running out of places in this town to hang out where your dumpees won’t be.”

“I haven’t dumped that many men,” she protested, even though she knew Nanci was only giving her a hard time, something her best friend loved to do. When Kelsie had first started working on her bad date survival guide, they both agreed to steer clear of the places the men that she dumped hung out. That meant trying out new bars and dance clubs all the time, which had actually worked out great for Nanci who not only liked to collect shoes, but men as well.

The bartender returned with their drinks, placing them on the bar counter in front of them.