In Bed With The Wild One. Colleen Collins
really paying attention. She was too busy watching Tyler slip back down the stairs and head this way. Beau nipped at his heels, but Tyler grabbed the big tabby in the crook of one arm and then deposited him with Kate.
Hanging on to the squirming cat, she interrupted her welcoming spiel to ask him, “On your way out so soon?”
He nodded, edging toward the door.
On his way out? But he couldn’t be yet. Emily needed to follow him, but it was difficult to do that in the middle of registering. How blatant would it be if she ran out now, without even looking at the Pollyanna room, just dropping everything and racing after him? Pretty blatant.
Beau gave a howl and Kate dropped him. After landing with a big thud, the cat immediately attached himself to Emily’s legs, winding around, meowing, giving her a plaintive stare from those infuriating green eyes.
“I—I guess he likes me,” Emily murmured.
So why was he bumping her with his head and nudging her closer to Tyler? Was the cat actually telling her to go for it?
“Now, now,” she said sweetly, trying to disengage herself. But Beau was a stubborn little beast, and he rammed his whole weight into her, pushing her after Tyler.
Tyler’s moody gaze swept the two of them. Was that suspicion she read in the clear green depth of his eyes? Or interest? Just before he cleared the door, his hand already on the brass knob, Tyler stopped. He turned back.
“The airport, the cab…” he said slowly. “Do I know you?”
“Um, no.” Suddenly reckless, taking her opening where she could get it, Emily asked, “But would you like to?”
“Would I like to what?”
He gave her an odd look, but it spoke volumes. It was the same one that said, Who gave you a day pass from the loony bin?
She hated that look.
And then he shook his head, frowned at her, shoved open the door and took off for parts unknown, leaving her holding the key to the Pollyanna room.
Emily closed her eyes and tried not to feel like an absolute doofus. The first time in her life she’d gone for coy and flirtatious, and it had flopped big-time. Let’s not try that again.
“Emily, I’m sorry to have to say this.” Kate bit her lip. Clearly she was trying to be kind. It was written all over her pretty face.
“You don’t have to say any—”
“Yes, I do. I can’t help but notice that you seem sort of, well, smitten with Tyler.”
Smitten? Smitten? But that wasn’t it at all! Tyler was part of an adventure, a caper, an escapade. She hardly wanted to date him or bring him home to meet Mom and Dad—although the expression on their faces would have been priceless when they got a load of Tyler.
Emily shook her head, getting back to the business at hand. She didn’t want anything like that from Tyler. No, she wanted to skate on thin ice with him, to dance on the brink of danger. Smitten had nothing to do with it.
“You seem to have the wrong idea—” she began.
But Kate interrupted. “I’m so sorry, Emily, but I think it’s better you should be warned up front. Forewarned, forearmed, all that, you know? It’s just that Tyler and I, well, we go back a long way.”
Forewarned and forearmed? Tyler and I? Emily backed away from the desk. “Are you trying to say you and Tyler are a couple? I have always been very respectful of—”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Kate waved her hands anxiously. “It’s not that Tyler is taken or anything like that. And certainly not by me. Far from it. Well, we had a couple of…I mean, years ago, we did…never mind.” She gave Emily a wry smile. “Let’s just say I know him pretty well. And I have some experience with this matchmaking business. You know, running the B and B.” She inclined a thumb at the wall of postcards. “Those are some of my success stories.”
“M-matchmaking?” Emily sputtered. “But I don’t need—”
“That’s what everyone thinks,” Kate confided. “But you’d be surprised how many otherwise perfectly sensible people will walk right past the perfect person for them.” She shook the wayward tendrils of her short-cropped hair. “Luckily, I have really good instincts about people, and I am an excellent matchmaker, if I do say so myself.”
Looking at all the postcards, Emily had to agree.
“It’s my experience as a matchmaker that’s telling me this.” There was that kind, half-pitying expression again. “Frankly,” Kate said, “you and Tyler…I just don’t see it. Not a good match.”
“But I’m not interested in being matched up with him,” Emily insisted. What was it with her? Did she have “please find me a date” stenciled on her forehead? Everyone in the world seemed to think she was so pitiful she needed to be fixed up with a guy, any guy. And that was the last thing she wanted.
“I know, I know. Everyone says they’re not interested in getting matched up. And don’t get me wrong,” Kate interjected. “Tyler is a great guy. And you seem very nice. But I don’t think he’s at a place in his life where he’d be looking for someone like you. I mean, I have to be honest with you. Since he and I had our couple of nowheresville dates years ago, the only women I’ve ever seen him with have been hookers and strippers.”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “Hookers and strippers?”
“Oh, no, not to date or anything,” Kate assured her. “It was business. You know, in his line of work, it comes up.”
And what line of work would that be?
But Kate was continuing with her friendly warning. “Really, trust me. He’s not your type.” She perked up. “On the other hand, I do have a sweet, nice, stable guy staying in the Pirate room. A nice, stable divorce lawyer. I think he’d be perfect for you—”
“A lawyer? No. No lawyers. Ever.”
Even if she had been interested in dating, which she wasn’t, that bit of info would’ve been enough to put her off. Yech. Her brain manufactured an image of the pompous, self-important face of Kip Enfield, and she shuddered. If she never saw another lawyer, it would be too soon.
“No lawyers? How funny,” Kate mused. “Tyler always says the same thing.”
But Emily was rewinding the tape of their conversation, back to the part about the hookers and strippers. Trying not to sound too nosy, she ventured, “Okay, so you said that women from the wrong side of the tracks come up in Tyler’s line of work. Why would that be, exactly?”
Kate blinked.
“I mean,” Emily tried again, “what line of work is it that these bad girls come up in?”
“Sorry.” Kate pressed her lips together. “I do apologize, Emily, since I brought it up, but I feel very strongly about maintaining my guests’ privacy.” She clapped the register shut with a quick thump. “I’m sure you understand.” Kate turned and ducked behind the desk, stowing the registration book securely in a drawer. “Where did I leave that…? Oh, here it is.” She held up an envelope. “Better go pay the bills. Right now.”
And Kate beat a hasty path down the hall to the parlor door. She turned around long enough to call out, “Remember, the Pollyanna room is the first right at the top of the stairs.”
“Got it.” Oh, she had it all right. She understood perfectly. Kate was not going to tell her anything useful about Tyler at all. Blast it, anyway.
Lugging her briefcase, which seemed to be getting heavier by the minute, Emily decided that with Tyler already off the premises, there was nothing to do but get upstairs and see what this Pollyanna room was all about.
“I’ll relax and then I’ll formulate a plan,” she said out loud, taking