Recipe for Kisses Read online

  “Your nephew took a handful of marbles without paying for them.” It was a statement, not an accusation, and her tone held no anger. Still, Ben’s temper flared once more and he cursed under his breath.

  “What about all this?” he asked, gesturing to the destruction behind her.

  The woman’s luminous gaze flicked to Abby. “Your niece was afraid we were going to involve the police and created a rather large distraction so Zach could run out.”

  “Why?” He said the word through clenched teeth, his gaze locked with Abby’s.

  “The cops, Ben,” she said with her usual attitude, but her voice caught on his name. Only for a split second, but it sliced through him all the same. These two kids had been through so much, and despite his intention to make a better life for them, he was already screwing up in a major way.

  He rounded on Zach, unable to bear witness to Abby’s preternatural world-weariness for one more moment. “Fifteen minutes,” he shouted, back to his usual decibel level. “I asked you to stay in the park for fifteen damn minutes.”

  When the boy started to speak, Ben shook his head. “Empty your pockets,” he commanded. “Now.”

  Eyes on the floor, Zach pulled out the lining of the right pocket on his baggy skateboard shorts.

  “The other one,” Ben said on a hiss of breath.

  Slowly, his nephew reached into the left-side pocket. He extracted his hand again, fist closed.

  Ben tapped the toe of his boot on the scuffed hardwood floor. “Show me.”

  Zach opened his fingers, four colorful marbles resting in the center of his sweaty palm.

  It wasn’t a surprise. Hell, Ben and his brother, Cory, had pinched more than their share of candy and gum from the local convenience store back when they were hell-raising kids hanging all day on nearby Federal Boulevard with too much time and too little supervision.

  Yet Ben wanted more for Zach and Abby. He also expected more from them, although he wasn’t sure why. His childhood had been a cakewalk compared to what they’d been through. But he had no intention of letting these kids repeat the mistakes of the adults around them. The precarious lid he held on his temper popped off at the thought that he might not have much say in the matter.

  Without thinking, he reached out and knocked Zach’s hand, the marbles flying in all directions.

  “I’m sorry,” the boy shouted. “It was stupid—”

  “You’re damn right it was stupid.”

  Zach swiped at wet cheeks with his fingers. “You mean I’m stupid.”

  Ben’s head started to throb. “That’s not what I said.” He tried to lower the volume level of his voice but couldn’t quite manage it. “You’re better than me. Better than your dad. You need to start acting like it.” He pointed a finger at Abby. “Both of you.”

  Zach squeezed shut his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  The realization of what he was doing landed on Ben like a cast-iron skillet to the side of his pounding head. Christ, he sounded like his old man used to, and that wouldn’t get any of them on the right track.

  “It was a mistake,” a gentle voice said from behind him. Ben spun on his heel, lifting his arm to run his fingers through his hair.

  Chloe was directly behind him, closer than he expected. As his hand came up she automatically flinched then stumbled a few steps. Ben cursed again as her foot caught on the edge of the fallen display. She tripped over it, falling back onto her elbows and ass. Ben and the older woman stepped forward at the same time. The shop owner shook her head, her whole body rigid with tension.

  “Don’t,” she snapped, keeping her gaze on her knees.

  He ignored her, of course, and held out a hand. “I didn’t mean to . . . startle you.”

  She ignored him, scrambling to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. “Get out,” she whispered in a ragged voice that made him feel like a bigger jerk than he already did.

  “I was only—”

  “Please.”

  He stopped at the one word, scrubbed his fingers over his jaw. He heard Zach muffle a sob and Abby mumble “asshole.”

  “This is my store,” Chloe said, her voice firmer now. “I want all three of you to leave.”

  “This isn’t finished. Abby ruined your display.” It took a huge effort, but Ben spoke the words softly.

  “Call me Monday and we’ll work out payment,” she told him, but Ben didn’t want to. He wanted to work it out now. This woman meant nothing to him, but he had an almost violent need to know what had happened to her to make her so skittish.

  Violent being the operative word. Because he’d seen enough in his life to understand that she’d suffered through some sort of brutality. A rush of protectiveness he hardly recognized roared to life inside him. For Chloe Daniels and for Abby and Zach and all they’d been through to make their reactions to normal circumstances so utterly abnormal.

  “Let’s go, Ben.” Abby was at his side, tugging on his elbow as she grabbed Zach’s wrist.

  He glanced at the older woman, who glared at him in return. “You heard her,” the hippie chick said. “She owns the place and you need to leave.”

  He opened the door, the cheery sound of the bells above it unsettling in the tense silence. Abby and Zach walked out into the summer sunshine first and Ben followed, but turned back before stepping out completely. “This isn’t finished,” he said again, staring at Chloe Daniels until she finally looked at him. “You may own the store, but the building belongs to me.”

  As her lush mouth dropped open, Ben stepped out the door and gave it a hard push to slam shut behind him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As exits went, it was brilliant, Chloe had to admit.

  It was later Saturday evening by the time she finished sorting the plastic figurines into various bins and baskets she’d dug out of the toy shop’s basement storage room.

  She’d been so upset by the confrontation with Ben Haddox—mainly at her reaction to him—that she’d considered closing shop for the rest of the day after he’d stormed out. Karen had convinced her not to waste a day’s profit and cancel one of their most popular monthly classes over the foul-tempered man and his wayward niece and nephew. But Chloe had thought of little else the rest of the day except the odd trio.

  Ben Haddox.

  She should have recognized him immediately but had been so distracted by the girl and the mess and her irritating fear at his booming voice, she hadn’t processed why he looked so familiar. Ben Haddox was one of the most famous stars of EatTV’s programming lineup. He was popular in the way of most celebrities with abrasive personalities. The viewing audience couldn’t seem to get enough of the borderline verbal abuse he dished out on his weekly series, A Beast in Your Kitchen.

  Chloe might be familiar with his shtick but, as cooking shows went, she favored more gentle, down-home, female-hosted programming. Of course she understood Ben’s appeal, especially with women. While Chloe wasn’t a fan of big, bad, brooding alpha men who practically reeked of testosterone, she knew plenty of women who were. She also understood that thin, bespectacled, soft-spoken men could inflict just as much pain as the obvious bruisers and had been chiding herself most of the afternoon for her overreaction to Ben’s outburst.

  She’d known almost as soon as she fell that he hadn’t been about to hit her and hated how she’d let fear short-circuit her brain in the moment. She’d worked too hard and long on her self-confidence and control to allow one thundering man to wreck everything she’d built.

  But Ben Haddox could do more than derail her recovery. He had the power to ruin her life.

  Chloe’s hope of convincing the building’s owner to give her store a chance had walked right out into the fresh Colorado air along with the hulking man. She wasn’t going to give up fighting for The Toy Chest yet. She simply needed time to think of another plan.

  She gathered her purse, laptop bag, and keys then hit the security code and flipped off the lights for the main room of the store. She d
idn’t like this time of day. The dimming light cast too many shadows as her eyes adjusted to the approaching darkness. As quickly as she could, Chloe shoved the key in the front door to lock the handle then the dead bolt.

  “Chloe.”

  She heard her name spoken just as she felt a presence behind her. Maybe it was her frazzled nerves or another burst of the adrenaline kicked off by Ben’s earlier tirade, but whatever the reason, Chloe’s reaction was swift and sure.

  She yanked the keys from the door and whirled, her finger depressing the button on the can of pepper spray hanging from her key ring before her brain registered where she was aiming.

  Ben Haddox let loose the most colorful string of swear words Chloe had ever heard.

  “You can’t sneak up on me like that,” she yelled, but already she was shoving the key back in the lock to open the door.

  He didn’t answer, probably because he was bent forward, coughing and choking as his face turned an ugly shade of red and he swiped at his eyes.

  “Don’t touch your face,” she said, grabbing his wrists. “It only makes the effects worse if you rub it in.”

  “You do this a lot?” he asked around coughing fits. His eyes were shut, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her anyway.

  “Never,” she admitted as she fumbled with the door.

  A group of people came around the corner, their conversation halting as they spied Chloe and Ben.

  “All good here,” she called. “Just a misunderstanding.” She yanked on Ben’s arm. It was a little bit like tugging a ton of bricks, but he allowed her to lead him into the store.

  “I can’t see a damn thing,” he growled.

  “Temporary blindness,” she confirmed as she hit the keypad to disarm the security system and turned on the lights. “Your vision should be better in about fifteen minutes.”

  He lifted his hands in front of his face then dropped them again. “You’re a real expert on the stuff.”

  “It was part of a self-defense class I took a few years ago.”

  “I guess it’s safer than a concealed carry permit.”

  She dropped her purse and computer bag. “I don’t like guns.”

  “It was a joke.” He coughed again.

  “Oh.”

  He lifted the hem of his T-shirt and wiped his eyes, ignoring her advice. The six-pack muscles of his stomach momentarily transfixed her. Then he let out a strangled groan.

  “No more talking,” she said, taking his arm again. “We need to rinse out your eyes. There’s a sink in my office.”

  He nodded and grabbed hold of her waist as she maneuvered him through the racks of toys and books toward the back of the shop.

  “My eyes won’t open.”

  “It’s the capsaicin oil, the active ingredient in the pepper spray.” She turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. “It’s an inflammatory, so keep your eyes shut while I flush the area around them. I’ll need to use soap to remove the oil from your skin.”

  She positioned him in front of the sink, placing his hands on the edges before bending him forward.

  “It feels like someone’s holding a lit match to my skin,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered. With a few pumps of the organic soap she kept on the shelf next to the sink, she used a clean towel to rinse his face.

  He stilled, his breath eventually slowing as she worked for several minutes. She dabbed at his jaw and neck as the water spilled over his thick brows and straight nose. Her fingers brushed away the hair from his forehead and she was surprised at how soft the strands were to the touch. For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of the water and their breathing. The strange intimacy of the moment washed over Chloe like the water from the faucet. It had been years since she’d been so close to a man other than the customers in her shop. She hadn’t been on a date since her divorce, unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable to someone physically stronger than her.

  Although Ben had a good eight inches and at least a hundred pounds on her, in this moment she felt like the one in control. It was only an illusion. The muscles of his arms were thick and corded. Even as impaired as he was, he could overpower her in a few seconds. But she felt oddly safe with him, especially now that he wasn’t in the middle of a rant. She had no doubt the temper was coming, and she probably deserved it for spraying him.

  But she liked the fantasy of security she had right now. A part of her had forgotten how good a man could smell. Ben’s scent was a mix of cedar and spice. Like him, it was wholly male and a little rough around the edges.

  He shifted, coughing more quietly, and Chloe started. What was wrong with her? She’d just maced the man who was trying to close down her store and here she was indulging in musings about how good he smelled.

  “Can you open your eyes so I can flush them out?”

  He blinked then hissed. “Damn, that makes the pain brand-new again.”

  She grimaced. “Is the water helping at all?”

  “A bit,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “The effects should completely wear off in about an hour.” She pressed the rag to the corner of his eye. “At least that’s what the self-defense teacher told us.”

  Ben placed his hand on hers as she smoothed it over his cheek. “I wasn’t going to hit you.”

  She nodded then remembered that his eyes were shut. Somehow, that fact made it less humiliating to talk about with him. “I know. I overreacted, and I didn’t mean to spray you.”

  “Really?” He choked out a laugh. “Because your aim was damn accurate.”

  “I meant to spray the man behind me,” she corrected, “but I didn’t realize it was you.”

  His jaw tightened. “Who hurt you, Chloe?”

  Pain ripped through her at the simple question. She yanked her hand away from his. “I think I’ve washed off all of the spray.” She turned off the faucet and pressed a clean towel into his hand. “You can dry your hair, but we should get you a different T-shirt. Yours probably has residual oil on it and if it touches your skin, the burning will start again.”

  “That assumes the current burning ever stops,” he said, straightening. He reached up to drape the dry towel over his head but winced when a corner of it hit his eye.

  “Let me,” she said, taking it from him. “Does your whole face hurt?” She smoothed his dark hair away from his forehead, careful to avoid touching the area near his eyes.

  “Mainly the left side. It was a direct hit.”

  “Sorry,” she said again.

  “I’d tell you I’ve been hit with worse, but my skin is still on fire and the pain from a punch fades a lot quicker.”

  “But not the bruises,” she answered without thinking.

  He squinted, trying to open one of his eyes, then cursed again.

  “Leave them shut.” She liked it better, since he couldn’t see the embarrassment reddening her cheeks. She took his hand. “There’s a loveseat three steps behind you and a bit to the right. Let’s get you settled, and I’ll grab one of the store shirts.”

  His fingers were warm in hers, almost comforting, and again she took too much pleasure in the simple contact. It had been too long since she’d shown physical affection to anyone but her girlfriends and the women who worked in the store. To have her hand engulfed by Ben’s elicited a far different response than a simple hug.

  One she wouldn’t allow herself to examine too closely.

  “Stay here,” she told him as she pushed him down onto the overstuffed loveseat along the back wall.

  “I’m not going anywhere fast.”

  She hurried to the counter and pulled out the drawer that held The Toy Chest logo T-shirts they sold. Ben was probably an XXL, but XL was the largest size she had on hand. Not a lot of big guys wore shirts with an overflowing toy box emblazoned on the back.

  She’d left the door to the back storeroom open, but her step faltered as she returned through it.

  Ben was still in the chair, his h
ead tipped back, eyes closed. The shirt he’d been wearing lay at his feet. She might have sworn off men, and maybe burly guys weren’t her usual type, but a bare-chested Ben Haddox was something even she could appreciate. He was about as perfect as a man got. His muscles were hard, his skin smooth and golden. He looked almost more like a statue than a real man. She took a small step forward, transfixed by the tattoo covering his right shoulder.

  “It’s my first kitchen knife,” he said into the silence. “I splurged for it after I got my first promotion in Las Vegas.”

  Chloe stiffened, not realizing she’d moved forward until she was directly in front of him. “Your eyes are closed. How can you tell where I’m looking?”

  “Because I feel your stare.”

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s been almost fifteen minutes,” she said quickly, unnerved at the accuracy of his comment. “Any progress with opening your eyes?”

  His features scrunched, then he shook his head. “Not yet. What’s the problem? You disable me then need to hurry me out the door?”

  “I want you to be ok.”

  “Maybe I want the same thing for you,” he said softly.

  “Then renew my lease.”

  He tipped his head an inch, as if acknowledging her argument. “I won’t talk about business tonight. I’m at too much of a disadvantage.”

  “I have a feeling you’re never at a disadvantage,” she answered but didn’t force the subject. She felt bad enough about what she’d done to him. He’d been better humored about it than she would have expected under the circumstances. Why push her luck? Instead, she dropped the store shirt into his lap. “Put this on.”

  “Why? Afraid you’re going to jump me if you have to stare too long at my naked self?”

  “You’re not naked,” she said with a huff, “and maybe I’m afraid I’ll be tempted to spray you again.”