Chapter 10
Jordan had no idea what he'd expected Kayla to ask, with those huge blue eyes suddenly so sharply focused on his, but that had not been it. He burst out laughing, taken totally off guard, and nodded. "Yes, he is. I thought you were going to ask something important!"
Kayla turned Barney's face toward him just a little, and, in injured tones, said, "Are you suggesting this face isn't important?"
Barney, whose expression was usually pretty lively and alert, immediately made sad puppy dog eyes, and Jordan laughed again. "Heaven forbid. Yeah, he's fine, but put down a blanket or make sure his feet are dry? What would you like for dinner?"
"I don't know. What do you have?"
Jordan rolled his eyes up like the answers were on the ceiling. "I can definitely do pasta anything. I could make pizzas. I have…no, that's still in the freezer, I can't thaw it in time. Roast chicken? A banana?"
Kayla gave a startled laugh. "Just a banana, huh? Not a banana split? Not bananas foster? Banana bread? Banana daiquiri? Banana…those are all the foods I know that you make with bananas."
"First, I'm fascinated by the fact that you include a banana daiquiri under 'food,' but that aside, I'm pretty sure I could whip up a batch of banana bread.
Of course, that's more of a breakfast thing than a dinner thing, so I guess it depends on whether you were planning to stay for breakfast." A furiously hot blush rushed over his face as the stupid words fell right out of his mouth.
Kayla's eyebrows rose slowly and elegantly, until, her eyes sparkling with amusement, she adopted a very convincing Southern accent. "Why, Mr. Rhodes, how forward of you."
If he blushed any hotter, Jordan was fairly certain he would actually combust. He did, though, manage to say, "Was it, though? This is a four bedroom house, there's plenty of room to put you up if you wanted to stay the night. I didn't say anything about spending it with me!"
Kayla's wonderful, loud laughter ran through the room again. "Okay, yes, that's a very fair point. How very forward of me, then!"
It was, and Jordan loved it. He hadn't thought the sparks were just on his side, but on the other hand, Kylie Quinn had grown up into a bonafide movie star, and he was certain she had sparks with everybody all the time.
His blush fading, he said, "You're welcome to stay, of course.
In whatever bedroom you prefer. Oh, God, no, that still sounds wrong. "
"Roast chicken," Kayla said, grinning. "If that's still on the table."
"Thank you for rescuing me from myself. I appreciate it so much that I won't even say 'Don't be silly, the chicken is in the fridge right now.'"
"Thank goodness you didn't say that. I'd have to throw a couch pillow at you for being pedantic.
Are you sure you don't have a script writer around here somewhere?
" Kayla made a show of looking under the cushions, then pulled a blanket onto the couch seat and patted it.
Barney leaped up and leaned adoringly against her.
Jordan couldn't blame the dog one bit at all. "Roast chicken it is. Which…" He took his phone out to look at the time. "Which means this is just about the right time to go put that in the oven for dinner at a reasonable hour."
"I'll be in to keep you company in a minute," Kayla said. "I just need to call the studio about Cyril."
"Take your time. I'm sure watching me peel carrots isn't going to be the highlight of your day."
Kayla mumbled, "You might be surprised," as she got her own phone out and sank into the couch to make her call.
Barney inched his way off the blanket into her lap, and Jordan was still smiling at the homey picture they made when Kayla eventually joined him in the kitchen. "Well, that could have gone worse."
"Suggesting it also could have gone better?" Jordan had the vegetables ready to go by then, and was pouring a little oil into the bottom of his roasting pan so he could lay sliced onions down before putting the chicken on them. "I forgot to ask if you're allergic to anything."
"No, I'm good. And it can always go better if you're calling a studio to tell them there's been a hitch in the get-along.
" Kayla sighed and took a seat across from him—he was working at the island in the middle of the kitchen, the stove behind him, and there were three chairs on the bar side of the island.
"The budget can swallow a half-day's delay, but if Cyril's not back in the chair come morning, I've got the green light to take over until we're either finished filming or they can find somebody else.
Which, two weeks before Christmas, is not an easy prospect. "
"But you'll get to direct." Jordan felt a slow smile crawling across his face. "Isn't that a kind of great opportunity?"
"I'll let you know after it's a disaster or not." Kayla put her face in her hands, then looked at him through her fingers. "It's definitely not how I would opt to make a directorial debut. On the other hand, we can't wait on Cyril and his mantrums—"
Jordan howled, "Mantrums!" and tried to applaud with his hands full of oiled potatoes and carrots.
Vegetables squirted up, out, onto the counter, onto the floor and Barney, with the uncanny ability of dogs everywhere to sense an opportunity, came skidding into the kitchen at full speed.
He'd seized two pieces of carrot before Jordan even got done being dismayed at the mess, and grabbed a chunk of potato as he ran out again, clearly suspecting his thieving was unwelcome.
Kayla leaped to her feet and began to help clean up, scolding the dog half-heartedly and throwing carrots and potatoes into the sink so they could be washed. She stood, hands oily, and was suddenly in Jordan's personal space, smiling up at him. "Never heard 'mantrum' before, huh?"
Another laugh bubbled inside him, despite the mess.
"No, I hadn't, and I knew a few guys on some teams who needed to hear that term.
Sorry, I don't usually throw dinner on the floor…
" She was so close, and smelled wonderful, some kind of light floral scent with a sort of windy undertone.
He didn't know how perfume could smell like the wind, but Kayla's did, and he forgot how to talk, just gazing down at her.
Her smile was incredibly soft and forgiving, and she clearly didn't mind being so close, because she didn't back away at all.
"At least you threw it on the floor before it was cooked, so it could be washed off, roasted, and eaten.
If a whole roasted chicken had hit the floor, Barney would be feasting right now. "
"And I'd be ordering pizza." He couldn't catch her face in his hands and kiss her, no matter how much he wanted to.
For one, they'd only re-met yesterday. Jordan didn't think they'd escalated to kissing friends yet.
More importantly, his hands were completely coated in vegetable oil and herbs, which Kayla absolutely did not need smeared all over her lovely face.
She said, "Sink," and for a second he had no idea what she meant.
Then she did an awkward little motion, scooting past him, and he realized she wanted to wash her hands.
Mostly, though, he was mind-bendingly aware of the brush of her hips against his, and the softness of her body so close to his own.
Maybe he did have a script writer somewhere, because he couldn't think how else he might have ended up with Kayla Walsh in his kitchen.
"Here, let me…" He reached past her, using the heel of his hand to turn the faucet on.
It turned farther than he intended and a blast of water slammed down into the sink, hit the spoon he'd used to mix up the vegetables, and sprayed upward in an enthusiastic arc.
Cold water hit Jordan in the face and Kayla shrieked as he tried desperately to turn the faucet off again.
His hands were oily, though, and he fumbled the turn once before managing to shut it off.
By then they were both soaked, Kayla worse than Jordan. "Oh my God, I am so sorry."
She was holding her hands away from her body, staring down at her shirt in dismay. "This is a costume. Oh, dammit, I was so het up about Cyril I didn't think to change and now there's oil and water stains. Oh, Carmen is going to kill me dead. I've got to be wearing this tomorrow. Oh, man!"
Jordan thought he might shrink away into absolutely nothing. "I'm so sorry, Kayla. I didn't mean to mess up your outfit. It might dry okay?"
Kayla looked up at him, expression wry. "It's not your fault. I should have remembered to change into regular clothes, and who knew the vegetables would be escape artists?"
"In your defense," Jordan said helplessly, "those look like regular clothes."
They did, too: Kayla was in black jeans and a fitted, v-necked teal t-shirt that was nearly the same color as her eyes.
Well, the dry parts were the color of her eyes.
The wet parts were much darker, and clung to her curves appealingly without really giving anything away: it was obviously a wet t-shirt, but wasn't in wet t-shirt contest territory.
She glanced down at herself again and made a sound between a laugh and a groan.
"They do, don't they? Except they're tailored to me, and honestly they're so comfortable.
I love working with Carmen, she's so good at making things fit and look great.
A lot of my costumes go home into my closet after shooting, because about eighty percent of them are just clothes.
The rest are the ballgowns and party dresses that go back into wardrobe so they can be used on another movie. Look, I'm going to have to—"
Dismayed understanding crashed through Jordan. "Go, yeah, I get it. I'm really sorry, Kayla. I hope we can do dinner another night?"