the refrigerator, he tried to ignore the sweet scent of her perfume as he read the name of her company printed in a no-nonsense font.
“For Whom the Bell Toils?” he said.
“Thea Bell toils for thee.” One corner of her full mouth turned up as she shrugged. “I’m a caterer.”
“Catchy.” He set her card on the island in front of him and folded his arms over his chest as he studied her.
“I met Kendra at a birthday party I did for one of her friends.”
“And?”
She frowned, her expression puzzled. “Did you not tell your daughter she could have a graduation party?”
“I did.”
“Then why are you acting as if I’m a cat burglar who’s just broken into your home to steal the fine jewelry?”
“I have no fine jewelry.”
“You also didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.
“I told her if she wanted a party she could be responsible for the details.”
“She is being responsible for them. She’s talking to a catering professional.”
“When I said details, I meant buying burgers and buns at the grocery store. Not hiring someone to take care of the burgers and buns.”
He hadn’t seen her from the back, but he suspected Thea Bell had some fine buns of her own, because what he could see of her front was pretty fine. The silky white blouse tucked into her tailored jeans accentuated her breasts and a slender waist that flared into the delicate curves of her hips. He might not date much, but he still knew she was the kind of woman who would make any man instantly aware of her.
He drew in a deep breath to control the spike of his pulse. “Didn’t you wonder about dealing with a teenager? Or where her parents were?”
“It’s not unusual. Many parents work. They’re busy and give their teenagers a lot of responsibility, especially when the teen is hosting the party. Not unlike what you said to Kendra about handling everything.”
She was sharp. Using his own words against him. “How do I know you’re a reputable caterer?”
“I have a list of references. You can check with the Better Business Bureau and the Santa Clarita Chamber of Commerce. If a complaint has been registered with either agency, I’ll eat my spatula.” She glanced at it, then back at him. “Your spatula.”
It took several moments before he realized he was staring at her mouth. Her lips were plump and pink and… And giving them enough notice to attach adjectives really whipped up his irritation.
“Where is my daughter?”
“You say that as if you think I’ve done something with her.”
“Have you?”
“Of course not,” she denied. “She went up to her room to find a picture to show me, something for the party’s theme.”
“Graduation isn’t enough?”
“She had something in mind. For the table decorations.”
“She needs decorations?”
“Technically? No.” She sighed. “But it’s a touch that adds an air of festivity to any gathering. It isn’t just about food, it’s about ambience. When guests walk in, you want them in a party mood. Decorations do that.”
“And have you discussed with my daughter how much this is going to cost? And who’s paying for it?”
“Not yet. I can’t estimate until firm decisions are made about food, decorations and the number of guests.”
“I see, so—”
Scott heard the unmistakable sound of his daughter galumphing down the stairs. A five-point-eight on the Richter scale, he estimated.
When Kendra entered the kitchen, she stopped so fast her sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. “Dad. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
His dark-haired, blue-eyed daughter glanced from him to Thea and then back again. As much as he wished he could chalk this up to a blond moment, her hair was the wrong shade and she had guilt written all over her.
Kendra moved closer to Thea. His daughter took after him in the height department. She was tall, nearly five feet ten, and made the other woman look even smaller by comparison. “I just meant, you’re home early. How come?”
“I’m meeting a real estate agent here to get a market evaluation of the house.”
The teen speared him with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Define ‘market evaluation,’ Dad.”
He should have channeled Kendra’s question back to how she planned to get away with hiring a caterer when she hadn’t cleared it with him. His lapse was directly due to the distraction of Thea Bell. When a man came home and found a beautiful woman in his kitchen, it tended to throw him off. Especially a man like himself, who was more comfortable with the tool belt and nail gun set. But he’d opened his mouth and now had to figure out what to do with the foot he’d inserted.
“The agent is coming to see the place and figure out how much it’s worth on today’s market. You know her. It’s Joyce Rivers, Bernie’s wife.”
“I know Joyce,” Thea chimed in. “We met at a Santa Clarita professional women’s group. She’s great.”
“Why do you need Joyce to tell you how much the house is worth?” Kendra asked, refusing to be distracted.
His youngest child had been a handful since she’d turned twelve. Why should now be any different? Her older sister was an easygoing rule-follower who hadn’t prepared him for Kendra’s episodes of rebellion. But Kendra was going off to college soon and he wouldn’t need this big house. That’s why he’d arranged for Joyce to do the market evaluation and the best time for both of them happened to be when Kendra was in school. Speaking of which…
“Why aren’t you in school?” he demanded.
“I told you last night,” she said, sighing in exasperation as she rolled her eyes. “Today is a half-day schedule because the teachers had an end-of-quarter grading day.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He didn’t remember her saying a word about it.
“As usual, you weren’t listening.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to sell the house, aren’t you?”
Scott didn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone in front of a total stranger. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Maybe I should go,” Thea said.
“Please don’t,” Kendra pleaded. Then she turned her patented drop-dead-you-son-of-a-bitch stare on him and huffed out a hostile breath.
