had prompted Kira’s trip to Northbridge in search of her sister in the first place had been a newspaper article about Cutty and this man. Cutty and Addison Walker had rushed into a burning house to save the family inside. Which they’d done, only to end up injured themselves—Cutty had broken his ankle and Addison Walker had been knocked unconscious.
Not that there seemed to be any lingering effects because he looked in robust health now.
Belatedly, Kit said, “Kira told me about you. I’m Kit. Kit MacIntyre,” she added, feeling foolish when she recalled that he’d already known that or he wouldn’t have been able to call her by name.
Then, to make matters worse, she held out her hand with an aggressive thrust, as if she were trying to impress a prospective employer with her enthusiasm.
Ad Walker smiled and accepted her hand to shake, taking it into his massive mitt, enveloping it in a warm strength that sent heat up her arm and all through the rest of her body, and left her wondering how a mere handshake could be sensuous.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
The handshake seemed over much too quickly for Kit and she was shocked to find herself disappointed when he let go. So disappointed she had to force herself out of her own thoughts and into paying attention to what he was saying.
“Mel—one of the twins—fell and hit her head,” Ad Walker explained. “Cutty and Kira had to take her in for stitches, so they asked if I’d pick you up.”
“Is the baby all right?”
“She’s fine. It was just a cut,” he assured. “I don’t know if Kira told you or not, but you’ll be staying with me.” He held up a big hand to wave away that last statement. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was, I have two apartments above my restaurant—” He poked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which he’d just come. “I live in one of them and I rent out the other to college kids when school is in session. But my extra apartment is vacant for the summer, and since Kira and Cutty’s new house is torn up with the remodel—and since you’ll be using the restaurant ovens to make the wedding cake anyway—we thought it would work out for you to use the empty apartment while you’re here.”
Kira had told Kit all that. But she liked listening to the sound of Ad Walker’s voice so much that she didn’t mind hearing it again.
“I hope it isn’t an inconvenience for you,” she said rather than letting him know he’d gone through that entire explanation for nothing.
“Nope, not at all. They’re two completely separate apartments so I won’t even know you’re there, and you won’t know I’m there, either.”
Somehow Kit doubted that even separate apartments could wipe away the knowledge that this man was somewhere nearby.
But she didn’t say that.
She did, however, remind herself that she was in men-pause. She was taking a hiatus from men and romance and relationships after two huge fiascoes that she took full responsibility for.
Ad Walker picked up her suitcase. “My place is just up the street. I thought we could go there, get you settled in, and then maybe get you something to eat and drink while we wait for Kira and Cutty to finish up with the baby and come by. If that’s all okay with you?”
“Sounds fine.” Kit took the shopping bag from the bench, explaining as she did, “I brought my own pans for the cake. I wasn’t sure how equipped you were for baking.”
“Beyond the ovens, I’m not equipped for baking at all,” he informed her as they started off, retracing his path. “I do pub-style food—fish-and-chips, burgers, sandwiches, soups, a mean steak, ribs, barbecue, that kind of thing. The only desserts I offer are cheesecake and chocolate cake that I buy frozen from my food supplier.”
“Oh dear.”
Ad Walker laughed a laugh that rolled around in his chest as if it were a deep barrel. “Believe me, I’m embarrassed to admit that to someone who makes cakes for a living.”
“I could teach you a few basic recipes that wouldn’t be difficult but would taste better than prepackaged, frozen, mass-produced, preservative-laden, not-much-of-a-treat desserts.”
He glanced over at her, smiling. “You’d do that? Give up a couple of your world famous recipes to me?”
“Well, maybe not the world famous ones,” she joked. “But I think I could be persuaded to teach you a few lesser-knowns for room and board this week.” And she was enjoying bantering with him much more than she wanted to be.
“It’s a deal,” he said.
They’d reached his restaurant and bar by then.
A large neon sign proclaimed the place Adz. The front of the restaurant was mostly windows with dark green café curtains halfway up for the privacy of diners at the tables just inside. The doorway was recessed, and Ad Walker stepped into the alcove ahead of Kit to open the door for her.
The English pub theme wasn’t only in the food. The dark wood paneling, dim lighting and booths that lined the walls around the freestanding tables all looked like they’d been taken straight from England or Ireland. And the long, carved, walnut bar with the brass foot rail and the full mirror behind it only added to the warm, friendly, casual ambience.
“Nice,” Kit judged.
“Thanks. I like it.”
Ad Walker led her through the crowd that was eating and drinking despite the fact that Kit had seen so little life on the street outside. He used his backside to push open the swinging doors to one side of the bar and waited for Kit to precede him into the kitchen.
The kitchen was impressively clean and much the same as most restaurant kitchens—a brightly lit space with sinks and stoves and ovens lining the walls, and workstations in the form of stainless steel tables in the center.
Ad wasn’t paid a lot of attention by the staff, who were busy with their own duties, as he took Kit to the rear door and out into an alley.
It was a very appealing alley, though. The street was brick-paved to make it look cobbled, the buildings were all painted, windows were shuttered, trash receptacles were enclosed and carriage lights provided illumination from both sides.
“We’re up here,” Ad said, nodding to the wooden staircase that ran alongside the restaurant’s back wall to a wide, railed landing that accommodated two doors.
Ad unlocked the first door they came to and then gave Kit the key that he’d used. Once she’d accepted it he reached in, turned on a light and waited for her to precede him inside.
Kit did, finding a small studio apartment complete with a double bed and dresser in one section; a tiny kitchenette in another; and a sofa, matching chair, a desk and a television in another section.
“The place is kind of bare-bones,” Ad said apologetically. Then he stretched out a long arm and pointed at the two doors at the opposite end of the apartment. “Left is closet, right is bathroom. I put clean sheets on the bed this morning, fresh towels are in the linen cupboard in the bath. The fridge is stocked with a few essentials but not many, and there’s no coffee or coffeepot, but whatever you want to eat
