Kayla had put off her own dreams in favor of running the business and bringing in income. The old brownstone was quaint, offering two levels and too many rooms. For years, her aunt had run an old-fashioned service offering ballroom dancing and dating etiquette. There was a time when those kinds of services had been in demand, but the last decade had seen a steady decline in business. Kayla had hoped to guide her aunt and help bring things out of the stone age. Her aunt had remarried last year and brought her new husband into the business. Kayla hadn’t had a chance to broach the newlyweds about business changes. Her aunt and new uncle had died too soon.
Kayla intended to carry on anyway. Men today didn’t need dating lessons but many executives required instruction on how to conduct themselves in social settings and learning foreign customs when entertaining international guests. With her language skills, she could add a modern dimension to an old-fashioned business. Ordering off foreign menus would no longer be a challenge for the American executive or traveler. And thanks to her well-targeted advertising, she’d just begun getting calls from the larger downtown corporations with offices overseas.
A far cry from the old-world charm school Charmed! had once been. Instead of giving class to the heathens as her aunt had been fond of saying, Charmed! would offer a broader, more modern range of services. When she’d inherited the school, the irony wasn’t lost on Kayla. The class bimbo with the classless mother, giving charm lessons. The memories still hurt and gave her an even stronger incentive to upgrade and modernize Charmed! until it no longer resembled its roots.
Much as Kayla had done for herself. She’d grown up on the poor side of town in an otherwise well-to-do area outside of Boston. While the other kids always seemed to sport designer labels and the latest fashions, she and her sister had worn their clothes until they were threadbare. Problem was, Kayla’s figure had developed early and her clothes never fit properly. The girls thought her a joke and the boys figured if she dressed in tight clothes, she wanted to be noticed. By the time she hit high school, there wasn’t a guy who didn’t claim he’d gotten lucky. She’d buried herself in her books and told no one except her sister the truth. No one else would have believed her if she had.
Despite the heat, she shivered at the painful memories, then forced them aside. Those days were behind her and Charmed! wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a dating school for the awkward man. Not anymore. It was a legitimate business meeting legitimate needs. She wasn’t thrilled with delaying her life, or putting off going back to school to obtain her language degrees. She’d even toyed with the idea of becoming an interpreter, but not at the expense of family. Charmed! was a family business and family was one of the few things Kayla and Catherine held sacred. Antiquated or not, neither she nor her sister had been ready to part with the school. Her aunt’s sudden death two months earlier was too fresh and raw.
She grabbed for her pad and pen. The repairman still hadn’t returned her call and she made a note to nudge him every half hour. She had a head for numbers, and the ability to memorize whole passages of books at a glance, but if she didn’t record the little details in life, nothing got done.
Her projections indicated Charmed! would see a large profit next year and she’d be able to stop renting the mirrored dance room out to exercise classes. She walked back to the storage room. With classes canceled, she could use the free time to begin going through her late aunt and uncle’s books. But first she needed fresh air. She walked into the outer room, intending to open the doors and windows. Without warning, the chimes signaled that an unexpected visitor had entered. She glanced up and nearly tripped midstride.
She’d heard the expression sucker-punched before, but Kayla thought she and her wary heart were immune. Her visitor made her rethink that notion.
From his wing-tip shoes to his tawny and immaculately groomed hair, the man emanated strength and power cloaked in a double-breasted suit. Her breath caught in her chest. She was grateful she had been too hot and uncomfortable to eat because her stomach lurched in an unfamiliar combination of excitement, trepidation and awe. Heat settled over her in a huge wave that had nothing to do with the broken unit in the back.
She’d wanted to cool off? Not even the spring breeze blowing in behind him would cause her blood to chill now. At a professional glance he looked every inch the executive she wanted to target with her new business angle. From a personal standpoint, he set her body tingling with one long glance. “Can I help you?” she asked.
He nodded and offered an awkward smile. “Charmed?” He held out his hand, then seemed to reconsider, then changed his mind again and shoved his hand forward, nearly hitting her in the chest.
She tipped her head to the side, stunned by his awkward manner. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He laughed aloud, a sexy rumbling sound that vibrated inside her. A confident sound at odds with the inept handshake he’d offered. “No, I meant the sign outside said Charmed! so I assume I have the right place.” The voice was every bit as sexy as the man.
A renewed surge of warmth trickled through her veins, slow and easy, like warm molasses. She liked the feeling. “That you do. I’m Kayla Luck, the owner.” She shook his outstretched hand.
His touch was strong and self-assured, so unlike the weak handshake of the men she’d met at the accounting firm where she used to work.
“Glad to meet you, Ms. Luck.” Without warning, he began pumping her hand too eagerly. “Or is it Mrs.?” He paused a beat. “I really should have asked, I mean I have no right to jump to conclusions and insult a lady…”
Unable to comprehend his sudden rambling, she interrupted him. “It’s Ms. or Miss. Your choice. Personally I was never into feminist lingo.” She eased her hand out of his grip before he yanked her arm out of its socket. The rough edges of his skin brushed against hers. Despite all logic, she enjoyed the lingering caress.
“No Mrs.,” he mused. “Must be my ‘lucky’ day.” He shook his head and laughed. “That was pathetic. You must hear jokes like that all the time.”
“Too often. What can I…” Kayla caught her slip. “I mean what can Charmed! do for you, Mr….?”
“McDermott. Kane McDermott.”
“Are you here for the wine-tasting class, Mr. McDermott? Because it’s been canceled.”
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “I can see why. It’s a damn furnace in here.”
“Actually it is the furnace.”
“Which explains why you’ve stripped for summer before the start of the season.” All traces of awkwardness gone, his smoky gaze fell on the silk shell that clung to her skin.
Embarrassment nearly suffocated her. She started to cross her arms and stopped, realizing she’d made a bad situation worse. She recognized the bold admiration in his chiseled features, the frank appraisal common to most men she’d come in contact with. Throughout her twenty-five years, she’d grown to both know and hate that stark, assessing look. Yet somehow, with his velvet stare boring into hers, she couldn’t take offense.
Even so she couldn’t possibly be interested in a stranger with too many inconsistencies in his character. Awkward one minute, self-assured the next, Kayla couldn’t help but wonder who he was.
And what he wanted.
She darted a glance across the room. He might have been prepared to walk into a photo shoot instead of her place of business. His blond-streaked hair had been slicked back, the bottom curling around his collar as if fighting the stiff hold he’d tried to maintain. The cut was longer than most nine-to-fivers preferred and added a dangerous edge to his appearance. The hard look in his eyes seemed to verify that impression. The perfectly sculpted features were at odds with the man inside. Mr. Kane McDermott had been around life’s many corners more than a few times.
He wasn’t the ordinary man who frequented her aunt and uncle’s establishment. Her establishment, she reminded herself. The man was a paying customer, and that meant she had to quit dissecting him and get down to business.
“Can I get you a cold