she might have imagined his sorrow. His laugh was certainly genuine. “See, you are a matchmaker.”
Gracie colored. “Please don’t tease me.”
Kyle lost his smile. “Gracie,” he said, his voice suddenly low. He reached across the table for her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “You know I only badger you because I like you. I’d certainly never torment an enemy this way.”
He looked as if he were ready to say more, but they were interrupted by one of the waitresses. “Your usual, Dr. Kyle?” she asked after greeting them.
“I’d appreciate that, Maggie,” Kyle replied genially, patting his stomach for emphasis.
Gracie guessed she shouldn’t be surprised that Kyle frequented Harry’s Kitchen, since he was a recently widowed man who probably didn’t cook much for himself, but somehow she’d pictured him more as The Bistro type, with fancy cloth napkins and real silver. She knew from talking to him that he’d led a fairly well-to-do lifestyle as a neurologist in Houston.
Maggie turned to get her order. “I’ll have the same,” Gracie said without hesitation. But the moment the waitress moved away, Gracie asked, “And what would that be, exactly?”
“Would what be?”
“The usual?”
“Oh, that.” Kyle made a show of licking his bottom lip and patting his flat stomach. “Grilled cheese. Extra pickle.”
Gracie made a face.
“You don’t like pickles?”
“It’s not that. I just expected— I don’t know. Caviar or something.”
“At Harry’s? I don’t think so.”
Gracie laughed. “You have a point.”
“Except…”
“Grilled cheese is such a boy-next-door kind of food. You went to medical school.”
“And survived on grilled cheese sandwiches. With extra pickles.”
“More than survived, I’d say,” came a sultry voice from behind Gracie’s left shoulder. “Looks to me like you’ve thrived, big guy.”
Kyle clamped his jaw closed, Gracie thought to keep from saying something he’d regret. She couldn’t miss the look of pure panic that flashed through his gaze before his eyes glazed over.
Gracie turned to the newcomer, whom she knew well from her schoolgirl years and recognized merely from the sappy sweet sound of her voice. “Chelsea Daniels. What brings you into Harry’s?”
“As if you didn’t know.” Chelsea gave Kyle a long, sliding look that made the man blush.
Gracie rolled her eyes. She’d never gotten along particularly well with Chelsea in school. She had little tolerance for any woman who spent more time combing her shoulder-length brown hair and applying makeup to accentuate her fine bones and delicate features than she did cultivating her friendships.
Chelsea was one of those women who’d matured early, and had always caught the eyes of the boys. And she’d known it. She knew it now.
Always looking after her own self-interests, Chelsea could only be depended on to think of herself and what she wanted.
Now was not an exception; only now, Chelsea had apparently decided she wanted Kyle. Gracie actually felt sorry for the poor man.
“Are you going on the bachelor’s block, Kyle?” Chelsea purred, hovering over Kyle so that he squirmed back in the booth to escape her.
“The what?” he asked, flashing a bewildered and at the same time beseeching look at Gracie. It was clear he had no idea what was going on.
“Oh, never mind,” Chelsea snapped, typically and easily annoyed and diverted. “It’s really too bad I’m already finished eating, or I’d join you,” she said, blowing out a huff of breath. “But there’s always another day, right?”
“Uh…right. I guess,” Kyle agreed, looking to Gracie as if he were wishing he didn’t have to say anything at all.
“Until then…” Gracie suggested, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head toward Chelsea’s neglected table of friends.
Chelsea didn’t take her eyes off Kyle for a moment. She preened and puffed and purred. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” Gracie said immediately as Kyle slid upright in his seat again. For emphasis, she put her elbows on the table and placed her palms over her ears.
“It’s not my fault,” Kyle denied heatedly, reaching across to grab Gracie’s hands away from her ears, pulling them to the tabletop and cradling them in his own. “I have no idea what I ever said to that woman, but for some reason, she has it out for me, big time.”
“I wish you two all the best.”
“Please don’t say that,” he groaned, twisting in his seat as if he were in physical pain. “Gracie, you’ve got to help me get out of this.”
“Look, if Chelsea Daniels has her claws out for you, she’s going to get you. At least that’s been my experience in the past.”
Kyle pursed his lips tightly, and Gracie wasn’t sure whether he was scowling or trying to bite back a laugh. “And how is that, exactly?”
“You know the type. Popped the boys’ eyeballs out of their heads in junior high and never looked back.”
“Early bloomer, huh? Do I detect a note of jealousy here?”
Gracie snorted. “Not in this lifetime. I have never, nor do I ever desire to be, the self-indulged type of woman Chelsea has grown into.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle muttered, half under his breath.
“Though in her defense,” Gracie continued, not knowing how to take Kyle’s comment, “she does get every man she sets out to win.”
“Well, that’s not how it’s going to happen this time.”
Gracie cocked an eyebrow, her heart hammering in her chest.
He shrugged. “I only want to be left alone. I’m not in the market for a relationship. I’ve seen Chelsea around town, and bumped into her at various functions I’ve attended with the McGuires. She’s made it pretty obvious she’s interested in me.”
“I’ll bet.”
Kyle nodded once, briskly. “I’ve tried to tell Chelsea how I feel, but she won’t listen to a word I tell her.”
Gracie bit back a token of disappointment. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t exactly it. “I’m not surprised, Kyle. She doesn’t give up on an idea easily.”
“Speaking of ideas, what was that about a bachelor’s block or some such?”
Gracie chuckled and took a long drink of iced tea. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ll find out soon enough, big guy. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter Two
G racie arrived at the Safe Harbor Women’s League meeting Tuesday afternoon to a completely unexpected round of applause. She dropped into a graceful curtsy and then cocked her hands on her hips and looked around, carefully eyeing the handful of women, most of whom she’d known all her life.
“Thank you very much,” she said wryly, tapping her foot methodically against the floor. “Now tell me what the applause is for.”
“As if you didn’t know,” Wendy McGuire said with a laugh, smoothing a hand across her burgeoning pregnancy. “Talk is all around town about you and that hunky Dr. Kyle.”
“Me