Cook the Books by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant Page B

he has a regular job now. This is much better than the puppeteer phase.”
    Kyle laughed. I admired the small dimples that appeared on his cheeks. “Well,” he said, “Patrick is adorable. He must be good company for Adrianna, huh?”
    “That bundle of baby yumminess is more amazing than I could have imagined. I knew that I’d be loopy about my best friend’s baby, but I had no idea how deeply attached I’d become. And so quickly. He’s only three months old, but I can’t imagine not having him in the world.” I thought about my class on attachment and about how important and meaningful our familial, romantic, and friendship attachments were. I knew how strong my attachment to Patrick was, how innate it felt and how uncomplicated it was. Since Patrick was Adrianna’s son, she must have magnified versions of those same feelings. “I know he’s only a baby, and I’m not his mother, but I can’t help feeling that he and I have a truly special bond. There’s just something magical that takes over when I’m with him.”
    Kyle nodded and looked at me with kindness in his eyes. “I could see that when I came to your house the other day. He’s very lucky to have you in his life, Chloe.”
    When the waitress brought our food, I managed to refrain from wrinkling my nose at the glob of thick spaghetti slathered with lumpy Alfredo sauce. Kyle looked equally horrified by his chicken Marsala. A few small bites of our food confirmed that some of the time, looks are not deceiving.
    Kyle rested his fork on his plate and shut his eyes, laughing softly. “Okay, this restaurant has officially been cut from the list of possibilities for the cookbook.”
    “You think?” I asked with a grin.
    “Let’s get out of here.” Kyle didn’t bother getting a check for our pathetic meal. He stood up and threw some cash on the table. “This meal isn’t worth deducting as a business expense,” he joked.
    Kyle held the door open for me as we exited into the busy scene in Kenmore Square. The college kids were out in full force, and groups of laughing students brushed past us on their way to the bars. Kyle offered to walk me to my car, but I’d taken the T. Public transportation was easy for me because the C Line ran right into Cleveland Circle, which was only a few blocks from my place.
    “I’m not letting you ride home with all these drunken idiots,” Kyle said as he waved his arm around us. “A pretty girl like you would be fending off ogling frat boys the whole way home. Come on. I’ll give you a ride.” He flashed me a sexy smile and held his arm out for me. “Madame? Or should I say, signora ?”
    “Ugh,” I groaned. “No Italian right now, please!” I looped my arm through his and let him escort me to his car.
    I stared at Kyle as he drove us down Beacon Street toward Boston College and listened to him ramble about other restaurants we could try. He really was good looking and genuine and... well, normal. Plus, he drove a badass Audi with leather seats and a kickin’ sound system. I let my focus drift over his body and admired his solid chest and narrow waist. When I worked my gaze back up to his arms, I wondered what sort of defined muscles might be lurking under that suit of his. His lips were full and sort of...
    “Chloe?”
    “Yes?” I whispered a bit too breathlessly.
    “This is your turn, right?”
    “My turn?”
    “To your house.” Kyle pointed to a street sign.
    “Oh. Yes, that’s it.” As we drove up the side street, I fidgeted nervously and flipped my hair over my shoulder twice.
    Kyle pulled up to the curb and set the car in park. “Sorry dinner didn’t go as planned, but I’ll make it up to you. You pick the next restaurant, okay?” He touched his hand to my arm and smiled.
    I held his look. We were having a moment! I could feel it! “I had a great time,” I said in a voice that I hoped was steamy and seductive. “I really did.” With no forethought, I leaned awkwardly across the