In Search of Dreams [A Family Bond 2] - Ginna Gray by Ginna Gray

Author:Ginna Gray
Format: epub

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Chapter 8

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Snow flakes as big as quarters fluttered past the window, drifting silently down to cover everything in a blanket of white. In the warmth of the kitchen, fresh-baked layers of chocolate cake cooled on wire racks. Their heavenly scent mingled with the smell of pine boughs that draped the mantel and the bayberry candles scattered about the house. A cheery fire crackled and popped in the kitchen hearth, and Ring Crosby's rich baritone crooned "White Christmas" on the radio's golden oldies station. From the basement came the sound of intermittent hammering as J.T. made repairs to the basement steps.

Humming along with the radio, Kate whipped a bowlful of double-chocolate frosting, a soft smile curving her mouth.

She couldn't remember when she had felt so content and happy. Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she couldn't seem to help it. She had grown so accustomed to being alone and keeping her distance from people these past four years that she had forgotten how pleasant it could be to have someone to talk to, someone with whom she could share meals, to simply enjoy another person's company.

Pausing, she stared dreamily out the kitchen window, her smile widening a bit. Particularly when that person was J.T. He was not only handsome, he was charming and funny and fun to be around. And he was downright handy.

J.T. had taken it upon himself to do whatever repairs he thought were necessary without bothering to consult her, such as replacing the broken and wobbly steps on the basement stairs, as he was doing today, or replacing a leaky valve on the water heater, or putting new washers in dripping faucets, or unsticking doors.

If she so much as looked as though she might object, he fixed her with his stern "don't you dare" stare. If that failed to stop her, he shut her up by simply planting a mind-blowing kiss on her lips. By the time the sensual caress was over she couldn't have told you her name, let alone objected to anything.

That Irish devil knew it, too, darn him. Whenever one of those kisses ended and he looked into her dazed eyes, his own were always twinkling. He would grin and pat her cheek, then saunter off to do whatever it was he had intended to do in the first place.

After a few such encounters, Kate decided that the prudent thing was to accept defeat and let him work on whatever he wanted. Although, she had to admit, there were times she was tempted to argue, just for the pleasure of letting him stop her.

In the almost eight weeks that J.T. had been there, Kate had learned that his inspiration came in spurts. At times he worked furiously, night and day, like a man possessed. When he ran out of energy or the creative juices dried up—whichever came first—he would crash, sometimes sleeping around the clock.

During the periods in between the bursts of creative activity, he spent a lot of time in town.

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