Bachelor By Design: Bachelor By Design / Too Hot For Comfort. Kay David
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2
CHLOE SILENTLY COUNTED to ten while Trace Callahan stared at her chest. Cursed with genes that made all the D’Onofrio women well-endowed, she was used to men paying avid attention to her physical assets and ignoring the fact that she was a savvy, intelligent woman. But this one seemed worse than usual.
She impatiently cleared her throat to get his attention. It worked. He looked up at her, his eyes slightly glazed. For the first time she noticed their unusual color—a deep, dark blue like polished sapphires. If she put any stock in physical appearance, she’d have to admit Trace Callahan was handsome. All right, just plain gorgeous with that square jaw, aquiline nose, and close-cropped dark hair. She couldn’t help but notice how well the rest of him looked either, his biceps and broad shoulders clearly defined though his pine-green polo shirt.
“You’re staring,” Trace announced.
Chloe swallowed, her throat dry. “Me? You were the one who was staring.”
“I always stare at beautiful women. Especially when they suddenly appear in my dining room.” Then his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why exactly were you looking for me?”
She looked pointedly at the empty chair in front of her. “Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?”
“I’d rather you answered my question first. Or maybe I can answer it for you. Madame Sophia sent you here, didn’t she?”
“She gave me your address, but…”
“I knew it,” he interjected, shaking his head in disgust. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
Chloe pulled out the chair and sat down next to him. “It?”
“I mean you,” he muttered, then heaved a long sigh. “Look, we both know why you’re here. Let’s just skip the preliminaries and get right down to it.” He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “Kiss me.”
Her mouth fell open. She quickly closed it again before he took it as a sign of encouragement. “Are you crazy?”
“No, just efficient. Once you kiss me, we’ll both know if there’s any future for our relationship. Although I should warn you that the last woman who kissed me decided never to let another man touch her lips.”
Trace Callahan was not only a lunatic, but an incredible egomaniac. She smiled sweetly at him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I make it a habit not to kiss a man within the first five minutes of meeting him. Just one of my little idiosyncrasies.”
“Suit yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “So tell me, Miss…”
“Please call me Chloe.”
“Chloe. Do you make it a habit of going door-to-door looking for romance?”
She blinked. “I think you’re confused again, Mr. Callahan….”
“Call me Trace.” He smiled at her, but there was nothing sweet about it. His expression reminded her of a lion contemplating its next meal. “I probably am confused. In fact, you’re probably just a delightful figment of my imagination. The medication is making me a little woozy.”
“Medication?” she asked, wondering why she was surprised. There had to be some logical explanation for his odd behavior.
He winced as he lifted his bare foot up in the air. That’s when she noticed he had it propped up on a padded chair on the opposite side of the table. His big toe was swathed in white gauze so thick it looked like a lightbulb. Before she could stop herself, she emitted a snort of laughter.
His jaw tightened. “Is something funny?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, dissolving into uncontrollable, not to mention undignified, giggles. She took a deep breath and struggled to contain her amusement. “Did you hurt yourself?”
He drew himself up in his chair, obviously offended by her reaction. “My toe was almost amputated by a power saw today. The injury required several stitches.”
Chloe stared at his long, lean foot in disbelief. “You mean that was the horrendous accident Ramon was so upset about? You cut your toe?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know Ramon?”
She didn’t like his tone. “Better than anyone. He happens to be my brother.”
Trace closed his eyes. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“You’re a D’Onofrio. That explains why I’ve felt uneasy ever since you walked through the door. Wherever D’Onofrios go, disaster follows.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think that’s a bit of an exaggeration? Not all D’Onofrios are troublemakers.” Most of them, she admitted to herself, but not all.
“Tell that to my toe.”
“Let me see it,” she said, standing up and walking over to the chair that held his injured foot. She reached out one hand to unwrap the gauze.
“Don’t touch it!”
“I just want to take a look,” she replied, ignoring his protest.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m an interior designer. And in my professional opinion, white gauze doesn’t go at all with this seat cushion. Didn’t the pharmacy have anything in lavender?”
“Very funny.”
“They say laughter is the best medicine.”
“I prefer Novocain. Unfortunately, it’s wearing off, so I’m not the best company right now. Maybe you could come back tomorrow. Or even better, next year.”
Some men just couldn’t take a joke. “I’m afraid what I have to say can’t wait until next year. It’s about Ramon. He’s very upset.”
“He’s upset? I’m the one who’s been mutilated.”
“Oh, come on. It’s just a little nick.” She gazed down at his foot. “I’ll bet if you took off all that gauze, it would hardly even be noticeable.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Fine. Take it off and see for yourself.”
Surprised by his acquiescence, she leaned over the chair and carefully began unwinding the gauze. All three yards of it. While she worked, she couldn’t help but study Trace’s foot. There was something almost intimate about seeing the bare foot of a total stranger up close. His was long and lean, with a high arch. The nails were clean and cut short straight across. The top of his foot was sprinkled with short, golden-blond hairs.
“Well, what do you think?”
Chloe thought she was much too interested in this man’s foot. She forced her gaze to the toe in question. A neat row of tiny black stitches arched across the very tip. “I think you’ll make a full recovery. Of course, that’s just a layperson’s opinion.” She bit back a smile. “Have you thought about consulting a specialist?”
Trace carefully set his foot on the floor, his face set in a scowl. “No, but I do have a call into my attorney. Assault with a deadly weapon happens to be a felony.”
She straightened, her amusement fading. “You can’t be serious.”
“Obviously, you’re the one who can’t be serious, since you consider this all one big joke.”
“It’s no joke,” she agreed. “In fact, I don’t find it the least bit funny that you fired Ramon over something this—” she pointed to his toe “—inconsequential.”
“I happen to like my toe,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I’d like to keep it. Which means Ramon has