The Good Daughter by Jane Porter Page A

looked like.”
    “Who was your friend?”
    “Charlie Altman.”
    Kit shook her head. She didn’t know him.
    “Charlie worked at that pizza place on the beach one summer,” he said, shifting his weight, folding his arms across his chest, and Kit’s attention went to his big chest before dropping to his lean hips.
    It took her a second to realize she was staring at the bulge at his crotch. She flushed and jerked her head up. “Pizza My Heart,” she said faintly, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
    “Yeah. I noticed it’s still here in town.”
    She nodded, unwilling to think about anything but Pizza My Heart, a Capitola institution. When she was growing up, some of the most gorgeous guys on the face of the planet worked there, and, of course, they had every girl in Northern California eating out of their hands. Kit had no idea that Sarah had been one of them, but then Kit had gone off to college and Sarah had finished growing up without all her big sisters hovering around.
    “So can I help you with something, Mr.…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she didn’t even know his name. “Mr.…?”
    His lips curved in a slow amused smile. “No mister. It’s Jude. And I just wanted to talk to you. Haven’t been back in a long time.”
    “Sarah’s married now,” Kit said flatly. “A mom of two.”
    “Not interested in Sarah. Wanted to talk to you.”
    “Why?”
    He laughed softly and his teeth flashed white. “Why not? I don’t often meet women like you.”
    “Go to church and you might.”
    Laughing under his breath, he shook his head. “My mom would love you.”
    Kit didn’t trust herself to answer. He was beautiful and unpredictable and dressed all in black, which scared the hell out of her.
    “Want to go get coffee?” he asked.
    “Coffee?” she repeated.
    “Yes. It’s a beverage. Some people drink it hot. Others like it cold.”
    His humor surprised her and she swiftly looked up into his face. Dark eyes. Crooked smile. He was funny. Sexy. Engaging. Alarming. Seriously alarming in his black leather and heavy combat boots.
    Curiosity and desire warred with common sense. She wanted to talk to him. Was seriously tempted to get that cup of coffee. But she was also the girl who’d made some dreadful decisions when it came to men. According to Bree, Kit totally lacked the self-preservation gene. And apparently that was a really bad gene to miss.
    Now she struggled to see past Jude’s leather and biker boots, but there was nothing soft or pretty or malleable in his long hair, hard chin, and dark eyes. She couldn’t manage him. He’d be calling the shots. And that wouldn’t be a good thing. Not for her. “I shouldn’t,” she said. “I’m here with friends. We’re hanging out, doing girl things.”
    “You can’t sneak away for half an hour?”
    He would use the phrase
sneak away.
He was that kind of guy. And yet Kit was truly tempted. She didn’t even know why she was tempted. He wasn’t her type. She preferred clean-cut, educated, corporate.
Successful
.
    As if sensing her indecision, he added, “We’d just go across the street to Toots. It’s safe. Public. Not even a two-minute walk.” He nodded, indicating the door. “Which should reassure your friend hiding back there with a butcher knife that my intentions are honorable.”
    Kit jerked around, expecting to see Polly with a meat cleaver in her hand. Instead, Polly was clutching a spatula, wielding it as if it were a sword. “What are you doing?” Kit hissed.
    Polly’s mouth compressed. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
    “I’m not worried, and put the spatula down. You’re not Michael from
Halloween
.”
    “I’m not going anywhere until he’s gone.” Polly’s voice dropped even lower. “Good God, he looks like a Colombian drug lord.”
    Kit was mortified. Polly was impossible and embarrassing but also her very best friend. She just hoped Jude didn’t hear her. Blushing, she turned back to Jude. “It’s just a