Sweet Kiss Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Judy Ann Davis

  Sweet Kiss

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Tappe picked up the grimy jar of candy hearts.

  “No way! I can’t believe Fay saved your candy hearts.” He twisted off the lid and shook one into his hand.

  “Neither can I. Don’t you dare put that into your mouth. Those candies are over a decade old!”

  “So? Sugar doesn’t spoil.”

  “Okay, go ahead. Eat it. Poison yourself. Why should I care?” she said drily. “Just don’t call me in the middle of the night.”

  With a shake of her head, she turned back to the stove, took out a cold plate from the freezer, and plopped a teaspoon of the liquid from the bubbling pot on it, then ran a finger through the mixture to see if the jam stayed parted and stable, refusing to run together. She removed the pot from the stove, set it on the table, and started filling the pint and half-pint jars.

  “You don’t mean that.” He dropped the candy back into the jar, and came up behind her. He started nuzzling her on the side of her neck.

  “Do you realize I’m working with hot liquids?” She tried to be stern as she squirmed away, still holding the hot pot. She could never quite pull off reprimanding Tappe, especially when he was on a roll.

  And he was on a roll. “Not as hot as you are. Want to make out?”

  Kate looked at him askance. “Now? Here? Are you sane?”

  “Yes, I’m fairly lucid. But if your answer is a no to making out, then can I lick the pot instead?”

  “If you promise to quit licking my neck.”

  Praise for Judy Ann Davis

  “This story is as sweet and irresistible as a strawberry kiss!”

  ~Author Laura Strickland

  ~*~

  “If you like stories of first loves reconnecting after life intervenes, you’ll love this light-hearted romance.”

  ~Author Peggy Jaeger

  Sweet Kiss

  by

  Judy Ann Davis

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Sweet Kiss

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Judy Ann Davis

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by RJ Morris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2016

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0568-4

  A Candy Hearts Romance

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  “Take the flower and turn the hour,

  and kiss your love again!”

  ~Rudyard Kipling

  Chapter One

  With her hands covered in a healthy dose of liquid soap, Kate Clark jerked on the handle of the water faucet to turn it off and stared in disbelief at the kitchen sink drain as if it were a gaping black mouth. A quick glance at her bare ring finger sent her stomach plummeting. The black mouth had swallowed her diamond.

  Kate groaned. She was sweaty and tired and her clothes were a dusty mess from rooting through her late aunt’s pantry. All she wanted was some jelly jars for the marmalades and jams she made, used, and sold in Kate’s Coffee Shop, a small bistro she co-owned with her best friend, Melanie Houston. The last thing she needed was to have a ring sitting in a filthy trap. That is, if it really was in the trap and not sailing away to the local sewage plant.

  Bemoaning her stupidity, Kate rushed to the small bathroom on the first floor and quickly washed her hands. She hurried back to the kitchen and tied a dish towel around the faucet to remind her and others not to use the water. Through the open window overlooking the sink, she heard the rattling of glass and spied Melanie stashing boxes of jars in the trunk of her car.

  Kate sighed. It had started as the perfect day with plans to poke around Aunt Fay’s house, gather the jars, and hunt for old treasures they could use to decorate the bistro. Later in the week, she planned to make strawberry jam to accompany the biscuits, rolls, and breads they sold along with their various hot and cold gourmet beverages. February was strawberry month. Already, luscious plump strawberries with their irresistible sweet smell and rich red color were heaped in baskets at farmer’s markets, flea markets, and fruit stands all over the state.

  From her vantage point, Kate could see the vegetation in the yard greening and growing robustly. The weather in Little Heron Shores, Florida, had been exceptionally balmy for the past few weeks as a result of a frost-free spell. With the help of brisk winds, the palm trees had already shed most of their dried undergrowth. Live oaks exploded with multitudes of tiny budding green leaves as if nature had waved a magic wand and given them a new hairstyle. Even the birds, high in the pines, warbled a chorus of cheery notes in celebration of an early spring.

  Her wandering reflections were interrupted as Melanie came through the door, swiping her hands on the side of her jeans to remove the dirt and dust from the pantry and jars. “Everything is loaded and ready to go. What’s next?”

  “We have a problem, Houston.” Kate winced. “I washed my ring down the sink.”

  Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “Your diamond? Your Aunt Fay must be rolling over in her grave. How did it happen?” She held up a hand, palm out. “No, I know how. It vanished just like the spoon, bracelet, and nail clippers disappeared into the garbage disposal in the coffee shop’s sink. Sailed off the drain board into the mysterious black hole down under?”

  “No, this time it was different. It slipped off my finger when I put too much soap on my hands. Anyway, it’s a snap to recapture objects from the garbage disposal with a pair of tongs.”

  “Yeah, genius, but only if you don’t run the disposal.” Blue eyes twinkling, Melanie chuckled and pulled her phone from her pocket. She punched in a number under her favorites. “I’ll call Foster’s Hardware and Plumbing. I can take a load of jars into town and put them in the shop’s dishwasher. You stay here and wait until someone comes to clean the trap.”

  Kate felt the heat of embarrassment color her cheeks. This would be the second time this week they’d made a call to Foster’s Hardware and Plumbing. Earlier in the week, a bottle cap had wedged itself between the rotating blades in the coffee shop’s disposal, and it had taken a plumber two hours to retrieve it. Jim Foster, owner and friend, was either going to think she was a total klutz or he was grinning and cheering like a crazed Florida Gator fan as he calculated the cost of another service call.

  “I’ll go up to the second floor and out to the barn and root around to see if there’s anything else we could use,” Kate suggested and pushed aside some unruly strands of dark blonde hair escaping from her ponytail and tickling her face.

  Melanie nodded. “Check out all those old cookbooks in the second floor storage room. They would make a terrific display on a
shelf accessible to the public. I think there’s an original Fannie Farmer Cookbook from the 1800s up there, and one published before World War II. Be sure to check out the one by Amy Vanderbilt with sketches by Andy Warhol. Any one of them might be a treasure to entice people to stop and have a cup of our java.”

  “Hey, maybe we could use the cookbooks in an advertising campaign.” Kate’s expression grew serious and she stared into space. “We could showcase a cookie, dessert, or pastry recipe each week from an old cookbook and have it on display for the public to stop in and leaf through.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Melanie’s face brightened. “No, it’s really a brilliant idea, especially if we find some great old-fashioned strawberry recipes to make this month. Our last quarter sales indicated we’re soaring in the black. Why not divert some of our profits into advertising, especially with the town’s Valentine’s Day Festival right around the corner?” Her keen gaze found Kate’s. “Only if we don’t spend all of our profits on plumbing services.” She smothered a laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” Kate conceded. “I’ll try to be more careful.” She picked up a small jelly jar half-full of candy hearts sitting on the drain board and shook it gently.

  “What’s with the jar of candy hearts?” Melanie raised an eyebrow and reached for it, but Kate held it protectively against her chest.

  She had found it among all the other jars in the pantry. It had been pushed to the back of the shelf just as she had pushed the past ten years into the back of her mind. But now the dusty little jar with its colorful hearts and witty endearing sayings tugged at her memory and heart strings, begging her to remember the past. Despite the intervening years, Kate had never eradicated Tappe Vanderberg, her best and long-time childhood friend and later her high school boyfriend, from her thoughts. They had drifted apart when both departed for college. Through the town grapevine, Kate had heard he married a girl he had met in the Netherlands on a job assignment, but he was now divorced.

  “I can’t believe your aunt saved a bottle of stale candy hearts.”

  “Even though a spinster, Aunt Fay was a romantic.” Kate twisted the jar, trying to read the sayings through the grimy glass. With her thumb, she rubbed the side of the jar to make a miniature round window appear and then shook the jar. A pink Sweet Kiss candy heart, one of her favorites, popped into the cleared spot. A melancholy smile flitted across her face as she recalled the many times when she and Tappe traded those sweet kisses in the front seat of his pickup before he dropped her off at home from a date.

  “She was also one terrific lady. Everyone loved and respected her.” Melanie pursed her lips. “Oh, by the way, when I stopped at the post office yesterday, Eva May Poole was working the window. She said Tappe had stopped in a couple of days ago.”

  “Here? In Little Heron Shores?”

  Melanie nodded.

  “To stay?” Kate’s heart did a little happy dance in her chest.

  Melanie shrugged. “I don’t know, but Eva May says the Dutchman is hotter looking than when he was in high school—if that’s possible. He was one handsome hunk back then. She hinted he’s here to stay.”

  “Do you think Eva May has her story straight?”

  “Eva May?” Melanie snickered. “The Eva May who’s living proof evolution can go in reverse?”

  “You have a valid point.” Laughing, Kate headed for the stairs, though secretly a part of her wished Eva May had it right this time.

  ****

  Tappe Vanderberg leaned against the counter at Foster’s Hardware and Plumbing and waited for Jim Foster, his best friend from high school, to finish with a customer. Beside him, the store’s cat, a fat yellow tabby, cocked her head and looked at him with suspicious eyes, then proceeded to completely ignore him and wash her paws. It was exceptionally busy in the store, teeming with weekenders of the do-it-yourself variety and snowbirds down for a winter respite, but making around-the-house repairs requiring wrenches, screwdrivers, nuts, bolts, and screws. Never losing his stride, Jim cheerfully waited on customer after customer, never losing his patience either. When the last shopper left, Jim sauntered over to him. He gave Tappe a lopsided grin and extended a friendly handshake accompanied by a thumping back slap. “Well, well, look what my cat dragged in!”

  “Your cat is so spoiled and useless, I don’t think it could drag in a mouse already dead.” Tappe’s mouth twisted in a warm smile.

  “Don’t let my daughters hear you say anything negative about Whitney.”

  “Whitney? You named the cat Whitney? Like Whitney Houston? Eli Whitney?”

  “No, you dimwit, like Whitney Egan. Player for the National Women’s Soccer League.”

  “Your girls are old enough to play soccer?” Tappe shook his head. “Amazing. Who would have thought you’d actually settle down and take over your father’s store? It seems like just yesterday we used to sneak in here and scrounge tools and supplies for our crazy projects.”

  “Like building a raft to navigate the back waters? Who did we think we were? Tom Sawyer? Huckleberry Finn? But hey, it’s good to see you. What can I do for you?”

  “We always did love the water, didn’t we?” Tappe pushed an outdoor faucet toward him. “Dad and I are redoing the water lines at the marina and putting a main line to the front of the building to make it easier to wash the docks.”

  “So you’re planning to stay? You really bought Dawson’s old marina?” Jim ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, only mussing it more. It tumbled over his ears and collar and gave him a disheveled look like a German wirehaired pointer. “I never thought you’d give up a wandering life to settle down.”

  “Trust me. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”

  Jim grunted and fiddled with the faucet. “Heard you were in the Netherlands for a few years.”

  “A few.” Tappe’s tone was subdued. He didn’t want to remember those few years when his internet security business was enlarging, growing stronger and vibrant—and his two-year marriage to Helena was waning and dissolving into a nasty divorce before his very eyes.

  The phone rang and Jim excused himself to answer it. From the grimace on his face, his wrinkled eyebrows and quick intake of breath, Tappe suspected the conversation might be an urgent one. Minutes later, Jim returned, shaking his head in disbelief. “Melanie Houston called. It seems Kate Clark dropped her diamond down the kitchen sink at her aunt’s house. Those two are always losing things in the drain at their shop. I told them to put a safety screen over them, but I swear, sometimes a woman’s mind is like a radio with a loose antenna. It’s running, but not picking up signals.”

  Tappe chuckled. “Well, according to a recent study of the human brain, women may be the better listeners. Supposedly men only use the left side of their brains, but women use both.”

  “Oh, please, don’t tell my wife and daughters I’m functioning with half a brain. I’d never have any peace at home.” Jim shook his head, grimaced, then continued in sinking tones. “Worse yet, I can’t help Kate ’cause all my plumbers are out on jobs. I told Melanie I’d get someone there as soon as I can.”

  The sound of Kate’s name sent Tappe’s emotions and thoughts swirling and whirling like sand on the beach in a wind storm. Before he realized what he was saying, he uttered, “I’ll go.” In his wildest dreams, he had no idea where such a reckless offer came from, but once it was out, he was certain the one person he’d love to see in Little Heron Shores was Kate Clark. He had heard she had a coffee shop on Main Street and was doing a brisk business. He was not surprised. As kids they used to raid crackers and snacks from Fay’s pantry to play store, and Kate always had insisted on being the storekeeper and managing the tackle box they stuffed with Monopoly money to use for currency.

  Jim snorted. “You’re telling me a computer whiz can take a drain apart?”

  “Knock it off, Foster.” Tappe scowled. “Have you any idea how many times I held a flashlight for you when your dad sent you out to fool around with people’s drains on wee
kends? When we should have been raising hell?”

  “Point taken.” Jim laughed. “Okay. Have at it. The house will be unlocked and someone will be around. Go on in. Take one of my toolboxes in the back.”

  Tappe started toward the back storeroom. “Hold onto my faucet. I’ll get it when I return the toolbox.”

  “No, take the faucet and bring the toolbox back when you’re in town.” Jim walked over and dropped it in his hand. “We can settle up then. Oh, by the way, if you run into Kate, I have to warn you, she’s as beautiful as she was in high school and as kind-hearted as any woman I know. She’d be good for you. She may be engaged, but hasn’t pulled the matrimonial trigger yet.”

  “Who said I was interested?” Tappe asked, annoyed his best friend could read his mind so easily.

  “Well, if you’re not, you’re the only single man in a hundred mile radius who isn’t.”

  Tappe grunted. He didn’t like the idea of a horde of men being interested in Kate Clark. And what about her fiancé? He couldn’t be thrilled either. “Maybe I’m just an old-fashioned guy with high standards and integrity. Maybe I’m the type of guy who likes to give women room to breathe.”

  “Oh, stop with the choir boy antics, will you?” Jim groused. “Take a hike and go play with the mucked-up drain. And take a couple of buckets with you. Don’t forget, if you end up smelly and dirty, you volunteered for the job, dumbass.”

  “Some friend you are.” Tappe gave Jim a peeved look, but secretly he was pleased Jim had agreed to give him the job and a heads up on Kate to boot.

  Chapter Two

  Kate sat cross-legged in an upstairs spare bedroom at the back of the house and looked around the room where piles of old belongings from worn curtains to broken lamps surrounded the bookcase holding vintage cookbooks she was perusing for her display in the coffee shop. This had been the storage room of the four-bedroom house for as long as she could remember. The air was hot, stale and smelled of dry-rotted canvas and other musty or sun-bleached antiquated goods.