hers much good to catch him perusing her alphabetized spices in the rack beside the built-in oven instead. She walked the length of the kitchen to where he stood in the doorway.
“Here you go.”
Handing him the longneck, she wondered what it was about a man lazily leaning a shoulder against the wall that she found so darned masculine and appealing. He’d rolled the long sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows, then folded his arms across his broad chest. He could be posing for an ad in a magazine. But he was no male model. He was a doctor who nipped and tucked and made people look like models.
“Thanks,” he said, saluting with the amber bottle. “Are you going to join me?”
“You wouldn’t be trying to get me drunk, would you?”
“Perish the thought. That three hundred ways to kill a man is an effective deterrent.”
“Smart man. Besides that deterrent, it’s hard for a tipsy cook to whip up a decent meal.”
Turning away from the sexy sight of him casually filling her doorway, she took a plastic-covered baking dish from the fridge and pressed buttons on the oven to preheat.
“That’s what you call ‘whipping up a meal’?”
“Sure.” She glanced to the side and tossed him a grin. “I just whipped it up this morning. Spinach-and-cheese-filled pasta with tomato sauce and herbs.”
“Sounds good.”
“It is.”
She set the timer, then threw together a salad and garlic bread. The only thing left, and she’d been putting it off because it meant breaching his space in the doorway, was setting the dining room table. Here goes nothing, she thought, gathering plates, utensils and napkins.
Sky couldn’t decide whether it was fortunate or not that she had to brush past him to get the job done. The very male scent of his cologne was unmistakable and did funny things to her stomach as she passed. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was close enough to feel the warmth of his body, making her wonder how she could have been so cold when he’d stood so very near her outside on the sidewalk just a short time ago.
She finished setting the table. “Okay, now we just have to wait until the food is heated. Want to sit in the living room? It’s about time to start digging out of that hole you got yourself in.”
“Which one was that?”
“You dig so many you can’t remember how you offend people?”
“Ordinarily, no. But since I met you—”
“To refresh your memory it was the comment about desperately needing a woman, compounded by the proposition you want to make me.”
“Ah, yes.”
Sky let him precede her into the living room. Not because she was a Martha Stewart clone concerned about her hostess reputation. She wanted him to pick a couch first so she could sit on the other one, as far away from him as possible. He chose the eight-foot sofa, so she settled herself at a right angle to him on the love seat.
“Shoot,” she said. “Why are you desperate for a woman?”
“Actually it’s your fault.”
“Don’t start in on me again,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But I find myself without a bride.”
“What does that specifically have to do with me? Can’t you simply move on? I did—”
“What?”
“Never mind. We’re talking about you. In your situation, the best thing is to not look back.”
“My situation means dealing with my mother. Let me give you a little background and maybe you’ll understand.” He rested his elbows on his thighs, holding the bottle in both hands between his knees.
“Okay.” She sat back and crossed her legs, trying not to notice the second in his seemingly endless repertoire of masculine poses.
“My parents emigrated from Spain when my mother was pregnant with me. My father was a doctor, studying to take his medical boards so he could start a practice in this country. But he was killed in a car accident.”
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”
Sky leaned forward and put a hand on his forearm. She knew it wasn’t a recent tragedy for him, but still felt compelled to offer sympathy. For her that meant touching him. Words only conveyed so much. A reassuring squeeze did far more.
For just a moment he covered her hand with his own. It was the strangest combination of cold and heat. The feeling sizzled up her arm and she pulled her fingers from beneath his palm.
“Because my father had wanted his child to be a U.S. citizen and grow up here, my mother refused to go back to Spain even though her mother urged her to come home. She had no marketable skills, so she cleaned houses.”
“A very courageous, industrious woman.”
He nodded then took a swallow of his beer. “She put me through college and medical school, supporting us by working as a housekeeper for very wealthy families. The money was pretty good, but every spare cent went for my education. If anyone knew the value of that, it was my mom.”
“You must be grateful.”
“Yeah.” His intense, blue-eyed gaze met her own. “I owe her everything. She gave up a lot for me. The only thing she ever wanted for herself was to travel and to see the world. But she couldn’t afford trips and tuition, too.”
“She sounds like a wonderful mother.”
“If not for the sacrifices she made, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
“I agree. But I don’t understand what that has to do with needing a woman.”
“Patience. I’m getting there.” He let out a long breath. “I worked hard to not let her down. Then I was lucky enough to catch the attention of Houston’s best plastic surgeon. He offered me a partnership and the opportunity to take over a thriving, prestigious medical practice at his retirement. My own reputation grew fast and for a while now, money hasn’t been a problem.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard there’s mega bucks in nips and tucks.”
“Who knew you could rhyme and be witty at the same time? There’s more to plastic surgery than that, but let’s save it for another conversation.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I tried to get my mother to retire or at least let me send her on a trip. Or both.”
“And?”
“She’s very independent.” He shook his head. “She said she couldn’t have any fun until I was married and settled down.”
“Subtle,” she said wryly.
A corner of his wonderful mouth lifted for a moment. “For a long time now my mother and grandmother
