“His name is Robert Gaskin.”
He gave Angela a smile he usually reserved for his patients. “We’ll be ready for Mr. Gaskin,” he said confidently.
Angela noticed he’d said we. It was the first time a man, other than her father and brothers, had offered to protect her. It was too bad she wasn’t looking for a man in her life, because Dr. Levi Eaton would’ve been the perfect candidate.
The grandfather clock in a corner of the living room chimed the hour. It was seven o’clock. She stood up as Levi rose to his feet with her. “Please excuse me, but I have to check on dinner.”
“Do you need help?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Do you cook?”
Levi winked at Angela. “I’ve been known to burn a few pots. Maybe next time we get together I’ll return the favor and cook for you.”
Angela stopped short, forcing Levi to bump into her. His hands went to her shoulders to steady her. He was close—close enough for her to feel his body heat, close enough to feel the whisper of his breath over her ear, and close enough to inhale the subtle masculine scent of his cologne.
“You want to go on another date?” Her query was a low husky whisper.
Levi’s gaze moved slowly over her face. “Why wouldn’t I? After all, you owe me one.”
She tilted her chin. “When will I have to pay up?”
“At my family reunion. We always get together over the Memorial Day weekend. This year it will be in Philadelphia.”
Angela shook her head. “You can’t just spring something like that on me at the last minute. I have a business to run.”
Levi dropped his hands. “What kind of business?”
“I operate a gift shop with my cousin in downtown Louisville.”
“Do you ever take a vacation?” he asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Do you have anything planned for that weekend?”
“My parents usually host a cookout that weekend.”
“Maybe we can work something out so that we’re able to attend both,” Levi suggested.
Angela’s smile reminded him of a high-wattage bulb. “Why don’t we wait until after the wedding to see if we can stand each other before we talk about a second date?”
“I’ll agree, but under one condition,” Levi said in a seductively deep voice.
Her smile faded. “What’s that?”
“Tell me how I can get a ticket to the Kentucky Derby.”
Angela waved her hand as if swatting away a fly. “That’s easy. You can come with me.”
Levi froze. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. Come, Levi. I have to take the chicken out of the oven before it’s as dry as sandpaper.”
A smile curved Levi’s strong mouth as he stared at the swaying hips of the woman who was as charming as she was intriguing. Duncan was right. There was nothing wrong with his sister—at least not on the surface.
Chapter 3
Angela breathed an audible sigh when she opened the wall oven door to find the large roast chicken had cooked to a perfect golden-brown. “Is it okay?” Levi said, standing behind her.
Smiling and moving to her left, she winked at him. “Take a look.”
“Hot damn! The girl can cook!”
“Bite your tongue! I don’t know what kind of women you’ve been hanging out with, but one thing I’ll readily admit is that yours truly can jam in the kitchen.”
Levi took a step, his chest only inches from Angela’s back. “The women I date usually don’t cook.”
“Don’t or can’t?” she asked.
He smiled. “Don’t.”
“How or where do you eat?”
“We make reservations, or I’ll cook for her.”
Shifting slightly, Angela stared up at Levi over her shoulder. The word keeper came to mind and she wondered why some woman hadn’t become Mrs. Levi Eaton, except, of course, if he was afraid of marriage. And, if he was, then he would fit quite nicely into her plans since she had no intention of ever getting married. In that moment Angela decided she would try to keep Levi around until he went back to New York—unless he decided otherwise. After all, he appeared to be every woman’s fantasy. He was gorgeous, intelligent and single. But, then she thought about Robert.
She saw Levi’s mouth moving before she realized he was talking to her. “I’m sorry, but my mind was elsewhere,” she apologized.
“I asked if you wanted me to help you bring anything to the table.”
Angela blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Yes. After I take the chicken out of the roasting pan you can take it out to the terrace.”
Taking off his suit jacket, Levi draped it over the back of one of the chairs in the breakfast nook. He then loosened his tie, unbuttoned and turned back the cuffs to his shirt. His gaze swept around the gourmet kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Double-wall ovens, two sinks, two dishwashers, a counter-depth refrigerator-freezer and a cook-top range and grill were a chef’s dream kitchen.
The house had quintessential Southern architecture with a wraparound porch, second story veranda, window shutters and a trio of ceiling fans on the front porch.
“Is there someplace that I can wash my hands?” he asked.
Angela pointed to a door at the far end of the kitchen. “There’s a half bath over there.”
She watched as he walked toward the bathroom. Even his walk was sexy. He didn’t walk or glide—he had a swagger. It was in that instant that she decided she was going to call on everything in her feminine arsenal to keep Levi Eaton around for as long as he remained in Kentucky. And if she and Levi became friends, then she would be more than willing to make the drive to Maywood Junction to see him. Having him around would assuage her mother’s concern that she was ruining her reputation by seeing a different man every few months.
The women in Dianne Chase’s social circle were quick to report that they’d seen Angela with a guy one week and another a month later, much to her mother’s consternation. Not only did Dianne have an unmarried thirty-something daughter, but none of her sons were married and she still wasn’t a grandmother. However, what her mother failed to realize, even after Angela informed her she wasn’t sleeping with any of the guys she dated, was that she didn’t really care about such salacious gossip.
Even though she told them on their first date that she had no intention of sleeping with them, that didn’t stop her dates from trying to change her mind.
Levi returned to the kitchen just when Angela was taking the chicken from the pan and placing it on a platter. He smiled when he saw that she’d put on a black pin-striped bibbed apron.
“Let me do that,” he offered, lengthening his stride until he was standing next to her. Lifting the rack from the roasting pan, he managed to slide the bird onto the platter with little or no effort. The tantalizing aromas titillated his nose. “What did you stuff it with?”
“Long-grain rice, raisins, finely diced apples and ground cinnamon.”
“It