No Fooling Around: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy Page 3

  Kade shot me the charming grin I’d seen on TV. In real life, it was even more likeable. He had to be a magnet for female attention, hence the reason for my nervousness. A first date with the tastiest chef on television had wired my brain into a lame comedy routine.

  “Are you into pasta jokes?” he asked.

  “Sorry they’re so cheezy.” I gave an inward groan because my apology was another pun. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to bite them off soon.” In despair, I stuffed a mouthful of food into my mouth to stop any more words from coming out.

  “That looks like fake spaghetti,” said Kade. “It could be an impasta.”

  I swallowed my mouthful, my anxiety easing a little because his joke was even worse than mine had been. “We should stop now,” I warned. “Before we’re pasta point of no return.”

  “You’re good at punning.” He sounded impressed.

  “That’s because I was married for seven years. Longer than most jail terms.”

  His brow creased as he tried to work out the connection. “Your husband liked jokes?”

  I shook my head. “He didn’t get them. That’s why I do it.”

  I could even remember the evening that had kicked off my habit. There were fourteen of us at a formal table laid out with so much cutlery, we could have eaten several banquets and still not used all the forks. Two waiters were serving the food while Benedict’s family and friends made dull small-talk, like an insanely boring episode of Downton Abbey. The only reason I didn’t slip into a coma and fall off my chair was because my clothes were so well ironed they’d forgotten how to crease.

  Ruff was a puppy, only a few months old, and impossibly cute. I couldn’t bear his heart-rending cries when he was left alone, so I’d smuggled him into the dining room, hidden him on my lap, and fed him table scraps to keep him quiet.

  Unfortunately, he’d been quickly discovered and banished to another room.

  “A dog is like a classic car,” Benedict’s mother had scolded me. “It won’t be a prize-winner if you give it the wrong fuel.”

  Benedict’s father chimed in. “The girl’s probably been used to mixed-breed mongrels that can eat any old food.”

  “If you keep spoiling the dog, I’ll send it to live with the trainer,” Benedict threatened in a low voice.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  Benedict’s expression darkened. Contradicting him in public was a serious crime.

  “I’m going to Cowdray Park to watch the polo this weekend,” he snapped. “Perhaps you should stay here.”

  I’d had to hold in a laugh. An entire weekend without him? If that were the best punishment he could think of, I’d have to contradict him more often. Only I clearly didn’t hide my glee well enough, because Benedict’s eyes hardened. He drew in a sharp breath, but before he could come up with any further deprivations, one of his upper-crust friends leaned into the conversation.

  “Oh, you newly weds,” she said with a chuckle. “I remember when Henry would go away and I’d spend all weekend missing him. I’m sure Iola will feel the same.”

  “You think I’ll miss Benedict?” I met her gaze. “Don’t worry. My aim’s pretty good.”

  She let out a surprised snort, then coughed to cover it. Benedict and his parents stared blankly as the rest of the guests tittered.

  But it wasn’t until Benedict changed the subject with an annoyed frown that I realized he was so humorless, he either hadn’t understood the joke or thought it was too far beneath him to respond to.

  From then on, I’d been hooked. Witticisms became my Hunger Games three-fingered salute. Only they were now a habit I sometimes struggled to control, especially when I was on edge.

  “Is everything okay with your meals?” asked the waitress, appearing at our table so suddenly, I almost choked on my spaghetti. She’d been fussing over Kade since we arrived, so I wasn’t surprised when she started blushing. “I’m a big fan of your show, Mr. Lennox,” she confessed. “I’m sure the food’s not quite up to your standards, but the chef’s doing his best.”

  “Thank you. Or meals are delicious.” Kade dialed up the wattage of his smile and the woman blushed even harder.

  “Would you please sign something for me?” She brandished a menu.

  “Of course.” He scrawled his name on it, and she shot me a guilty look I interpreted as a silent apology for interrupting our date. In return, I gave her a reassuring smile to let her know I understood. I wasn’t used to being around a celebrity either. Honestly, I was glad not to be the only woman flustered by Kade, though our waitress hadn’t blurted any bad puns, so she was doing better than I was.

  With a final smile from Kade, the waitress took her signed menu back to the kitchen. Her eyes were dazed and her cheeks brighter than the red wine I was sipping.

  “She’s almost as star struck as I am.” I quelled the urge to ask whether signing another chef’s menu might be seen as plagiarism. “You know, I used to watch your cooking show when I lived in London.”

  “Did you cook any of my dishes?”

  “I wanted to, but my husband’s chef wouldn’t let me near the kitchen. Truth is, I’ve never really cooked anything.”

  His jaw dropped in exaggerated shock. “Never?”

  “Well, I could boil you an egg if you want it to bounce.”

  “Never joke about cooking.”

  “You’re right. It’d be rude to crack yolks.”

  His eyes sparkled. “I appreciate your eggscellent restraint.”

  “Please don’t encourage my pun habit. I’m trying to quit.”

  “I like people who make me laugh.”

  “So do I,” I said wholeheartedly. “It’s a whole new experience.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but if he didn’t have a sense of humor, why’d you marry your ex-husband?”

  I took another sip of wine and realized I’d almost finished my glass. The restaurant was dimly lit, and our small table felt intimate. My nervousness was disappearing fast. In fact, I was in serious danger of letting both the wine and Kade’s flattering attention lower all my defenses.

  “Benedict overwhelmed me.” I gave an honest but simple answer, not wanting our date to turn into a therapy session. “He acted like he was devoted, and since I’d lost my family a few years earlier, I guess I was craving the feeling of being important to someone, you know? So I missed all the red flags that should have warned me how controlling he was.” I could only shake my head at how naïve I’d been. “And Benedict’s not just from England, his father’s a Viscount. Real English royalty. I’m embarrassed to admit I thought marrying him was going to be like that movie where the American girl finds out she’s a princess.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

  “Anyway, after a whirlwind romance, Benedict swept me away to London, where I had no friends or any kind of outside support. He wouldn’t even let me have my own bank account. It took me seven years to get away from him.”

  Kade’s face fell. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I had no idea.”

  I lifted my wine glass with a smile. “Please don’t be sorry. This is the first date I’ve been on since I escaped. Now I finally get to celebrate like every ex-prisoner should, with creamy carbonara and a handsome celebrity chef.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Kade clinked his glass against mine, but his smile had wilted. “I didn’t realize tonight was so important to you.”

  Judging from the way the muscles in his face had tensed, I must have sounded like I was expecting too much from him. Telling him it was my first date in seven years had clearly made him feel like he was under some kind of pressure. Definitely not my intention.

  “Confession time. I’m actually so gun shy, I’m planning to stay single for the rest of my life.” I gave a little laugh. “I came out tonight hoping we’d just have fun. You don’t mind if our date doesn’t end with an offer of marriage, do you?”

  The muscles in Kade’s face relaxed, and his lips moved back int
o their natural upward curve. “Not at all. I happen to like fun. Besides, I usually wait for the second date before I propose, and seeing as I’m going back to LA tomorrow...” He spread his hands and gave an exaggerated, ‘what can ya do?’ kind of shrug.

  Though he was making a joke of it, he still seemed relieved. I studied him as he busied himself with pouring us some more wine. I hadn’t noticed he was holding himself upright before, but now he was leaning in a little more, as though he’d decided it was safe to drop his guard.

  When our glasses were full again, I said, “I’m getting the feeling you didn’t want to get serious about our date either.”

  “Like I say, I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “And you’re not interested in me that way.”

  He picked up his glass. “Iola, I’m enjoying getting to know you, but I—”

  I reached over to give his arm a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset. I’m just curious.”

  Come to think of it, although our waitress was stunning and clearly smitten with him, there hadn’t been so much as a flicker of interest in his eyes when he’d signed her menu. So maybe it wasn’t just me he didn’t want to date. I had to admit that soothed my ego.

  “Are you in love with someone?” I asked. “Or do you have a broken heart?” When he blinked at me, I nodded, making my mind up. “I think someone broke your heart and you’re still not over her.”

  He shook his head, his lips quirking ruefully on one side as he put his glass down. “You sound just like my twin brother.”

  “Your twin? There are two of you?”

  “We’re not identical. Actually, we’re complete opposites. I don’t have Asher’s weird way of reading people, but it’s like he has an extra sense.” There was a trace of pride in his voice.

  “You and your brother are close,” I guessed.

  “Very.”

  “So I was right about your broken heart?”

  His gaze dropped to his wine glass, and his eyes unfocused as he stared into the red liquid. “Maybe. But it happened years ago, and you were wrong about me not being over her.”

  “What happened?”

  “I told her I loved her, and she didn’t feel the same way. So I moved to France and somehow talked my way into a job at one of the best restaurants in Paris. Essentially, I owe her my career. If she hadn’t dumped me, I’d probably still be working in her father’s café.”

  “Have you seen her since?”

  He shook his head. “The show takes up most of my time, and she lives in San Dante. I don’t get to come back here as much as I like, even to see my family.”

  “That’s a shame. You should never take family for granted.” I spoke with feeling, and his gaze softened.

  “You said you lost yours?”

  “I lost my parents, but I’ve just found my brother again.” I grinned, because I couldn’t help smiling every time I thought about getting to see Santino. Hopefully they’d let me see him soon. I could hardly wait.

  “Tell me about your brother.” Kade leaned closer.

  “Well, he’s—”

  “May I get you anything else?” Our waitress appeared back at our table, her cheeks still red.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite.” I pushed my plate away with a contented sigh. If I’d eaten that many carbs in front of Benedict, for days afterward he would have taken every opportunity to point out my thickening waist and saggy upper arms.

  “Dessert?” suggested Kade.

  “I wish I could squeeze it in.”

  “Just the bill then.”

  “I’m paying half,” I said quickly.

  “Absolutely not. I invited you—”

  “I’ll joke about everything else, but paying my own way is a serious thing for me. Please don’t argue.”

  Kade reluctantly let me pay my share, and he dropped me off at home with a friendly kiss on the cheek. Now I knew about his broken heart, I was curious about the woman who’d done that to him. Having experienced his charm first-hand, I couldn’t imagine how a woman he was actually in love with would be able to resist him. And why would she want to dump an amazing guy like Kade?

  As I walked toward my front door, I noticed something in my mailbox. It was a parcel with no name or address written on the front. Taking it inside, I gave Ruff a pat before I opened it.

  The parcel was clearly a response to my latest underwear note, which had quickly disappeared from my washing line. Inside were my missing panties and a gift card for A Pair To Remember, the local lingerie shop. The gift card was made out for an amount so generous, the woman who owned the place would either celebrate with a case of champagne, ask me on a date, or file a restraining order.

  There was also a photo of a black cat carrying a pair of panties in its mouth, which was probably supposed to be more convincing than the sketch. But I almost missed the best part. On the back of the photo, someone had drawn a single upraised cat paw, and written the words ‘Cat Peower’.

  I snorted when I saw it. Now I knew Kade had a great sense of humor, I was pretty sure he must have done this. And he hadn’t even known about my fondness for puns when he’d dropped it in my mailbox.

  We’d been so busy talking about other things, I’d forgotten to ask him if he knew anything about my missing panties. But when had he put this parcel in my mailbox? And why deliver it when he could have just given it to me at dinner?

  Only one way to find out.

  Kade had dropped me off just a few minutes ago, and it wasn’t late. He wouldn’t be in bed yet, even if he was leaving for LA early in the morning.

  Leaving Ruff snoring on his bed in the living room, I hurried over and knocked on Kade’s door. But when it swung open, Kade wasn’t standing on the other side.

  Instead it was a man so handsome, my stomach fluttered. He was almost too handsome. Like a painting that doesn’t look real because the artist didn’t add any flaws.

  He wore dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and his eyes were gunmetal gray. His jaw looked like it had been built from Lego blocks, and the intelligence in his eyes looked sharp enough to stab a whole lot of hearts. I could picture him collecting them like bills on a spike.

  “You must be Kade’s brother,” I said, remembering Kade had mentioned a twin. They looked similar, but this man had darker hair and eyes, he was slightly leaner, and his face was more angular.

  If Kade was a watercolor, his brother was a charcoal drawing, in darker tones, with sharper lines.

  The man inclined his head. “I’m Asher.” Stepped forward, he extended his hand. The movement made my eyes go from his muscular shoulders to his slender hips, drinking in his snug-fitting T-shirt and even snugger jeans. He was built like the letter T, and my guess was it stood for Trouble.

  I took the hand he offered. As his fingers closed around mine, his sharp gray eyes analyzed me like a math puzzle, as though he could calculate exactly who I was in an instant. I don’t know if it was that feeling of being assessed or just a static energy discharge, but when our hands met, an electric current ran over my skin.

  “Kade’s in the shower,” he said, dropping my hand. “Can I pass on a message?”

  “Actually, I’ve come to ask if you or Kade have a kinky fetish to do with stealing panties from washing lines.”

  I hadn’t meant to blurt the question so bluntly, and as soon as the words left my lips, I braced for him to flinch, or gasp, or slam the door in my face.

  But Asher didn’t react.

  “A cat burglar is the one at fault.” His tone was bland, and his face impassive. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.

  And that gave me the jitters.

  “Are you kitten me?” I demanded. “It’s not pawsible, and I don’t believe it for a meow-ment.”

  He folded his arms. “Do you always pun when you’re nervous?”

  I blinked at him as my jumbled brain flashed back to Kade telling me his brother had a weird extra sense. “Wha
t makes you think I’m nervous?”

  “You’re twisting that button so hard it’s about to come off.”

  “Oh.” I looked down and forced my fingers to release the button I’d been fiddling with. He was right, the fabric was twisted and the button was coming loose. Good thing it was just a decorative button, and not one that actually held my dress closed.

  “Well,” I said. “To answer your question, I have an unfortunate punning habit I developed thanks to my ex-husband. Not that my ex has a single funny bone. In fact, he was born without a humerus.”

  Asher’s eyes were unreadable, like polished gray mirrors, and his lips didn’t so much as twitch.

  “Anyway, I need to return this.” I thrust the lingerie gift card at Asher. “I’d crack a joke about panties, but I’d like to keep this brief. Besides, I don’t have any clean ones.”

  “You’re punny,” he said, not putting out a hand to take it.

  “Bad puns are how eye roll.” I emphasized the last two words to make the double meaning clear.

  “But a good pun is its own re-word.”

  He spoke seriously, his face impassive, and it took me a long moment to realize he’d made a joke. I was so surprised, I let out a loud and embarrassing snort-laugh.

  Asher didn’t smile back. He may as well have been carved from stone.

  What was with him? Was he even capable of cracking a grin? And could a man so gorgeous really be the pervert who’d been snatching my panties? Why couldn’t weirdoes wear identifying name tags? It would make things so much easier if he had a, ‘Hello, I’m a Pervy Panty Sniffer’ sticker on his T-shirt.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that the combination of his good looks and inscrutable stare was threatening to knock down the barriers that kept my joke compulsion from really breaking loose. If I didn’t get away now, we’d both be buried under an avalanche of bad puns. Yep. Things could get rocky.

  “Anyway,” I babbled. “Sorry about the jokes. Punning might be a compulsion when I’m nervous, but like a escaping nun, I’m trying to break my habit.” I was running out of breath, but had to keep going. “And I really can’t take this, so you should have it back.” I flung the gift card at him and he caught it deftly with one hand. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary crack in his impenetrable armor. Then he thrust the gift card back toward me.