Since they both would have to return to the station when the opening was over, Kyle suggested they take his rented car.
“Yours isn’t back from the shop yet?” she asked, once they were outside.
“Not yet. They told me it’ll probably be ready this evening.”
“I hope everything works out all right,” she mumbled, feeling incredibly sad. She looked out the side window and waited for him to start the motor. When he didn’t, she turned back and found him studying her. “Is something wrong?” she asked defensively. “Is there lipstick on my teeth?”
“No,” he said, quickly starting the engine. “I was just thinking….”
“About what?” she pressed, when he didn’t immediately answer.
“Nothing,” he said, after a moment.
A heaviness weighted down his voice that gave her cause to wonder. Could it be that Kyle was as frustrated as she was? She strongly suspected he found the strain of maintaining his pride as cumbersome as she did.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured when he was out on the roadway.
“Sorry? For what?”
She exhaled slowly. “For raising such a fuss the other evening. You were…I don’t know what you were doing, but I overreacted. I…we need to put all this nonsense behind us.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Kyle grinned and Carrie felt as if the sun had come out from behind a black cloud. He reached for her hand, his fingers curling around hers.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she said.
“What doesn’t?”
Carrie shook her head. “We’re barely able to be civil to each other and yet I’m miserable without you.”
“I’m miserable too.”
A crowd had gathered by the time Carrie and Kyle arrived. The broadcasting booth was set up and Carrie interviewed David Bond, the owner of Mr. Tidy’s, who was one of the station’s most prominent advertisers. Afterward she handed out balloons and spoke with several people who had come for the grand opening. Kyle was busy as well.
They stood on the platform for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and after the owner had said a few words Carrie was handed a giant pair of scissors.
Smiling, she glanced out over the crowd. Suddenly her gaze came to rest on one man who was studying her intently.
She gasped, and the platform started to buckle beneath her feet.
“Kyle…Kyle.” Blindly she reached out for him. Within the space of a heartbeat he was there at her side, his arm protectively around her waist.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and she heard the unfamiliar sound of panic in his voice.
She blinked up at him. “Billy Bob’s here. I saw him in the crowd.”
“Billy Bob?”
“The man who kidnapped us.”
11
“Where?” Kyle searched the crowd, but he didn’t see anyone who so much as remotely resembled Max Sanders. It seemed that every eye was on them, so he urged Carrie to use the huge scissors and cut the ribbon.
A cheer rose from the crowd and David Bond stepped toward the mike, promising free fabric softener to the first five hundred customers. The group charged the doors as if fabric softener was all that stood between them and ruin.
“Do you see him?” Carrie asked, clinging to Kyle.
It felt incredibly good to Kyle to have her in his arms again. It didn’t matter that what she was saying made no sense. A man like Max Sanders wasn’t interested in free fabric softener.
“You don’t mean Max Sanders, do you?”
“Who else could I possibly mean?” Carrie cried.
“I don’t see him.”
“But he was there.” She grabbed hold of his lapels with both hands. “I swear to you I saw him.”
“Carrie,” Kyle said with a good deal of patience, “I’m sure you thought you saw him.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t listen,” she said, breaking away from him, using her elbows as if she were suddenly in need of breathing room. “He was there, I swear to you, Kyle. The man who kidnapped us was here no more than a minute ago.”
“Couldn’t it have been someone who strongly resembles Sanders? It doesn’t make sense that he’d be at the opening of a laundromat. The man’s on the run.”
The anger and hurt that flashed into Carrie’s beautiful eyes were nearly his undoing. In that instant Kyle would have done anything to have seen Max Sanders himself.
“You’re right, of course,” she said stiffly. “I must have been mistaken.”
“Was he wearing farm clothes?” Kyle asked, unwilling to drop the subject.
“No. He had on a suit.”
“A suit?”
“A shirt and tie,” she amended. “He looked like a businessman, an everyday kind of person.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t someone who looked a lot like Sanders?”
This gave her pause, but not for long. “I don’t think so. The resemblance was far too striking to ignore.”
“I see,” Kyle said, although he didn’t.
The trouble with Carrie, Kyle decided, was that she watched too much television. She was addicted to those crime shows.
“It went well, don’t you think?” he asked, breaking into the silence. He had the sinking suspicion that he’d done something terribly wrong again and offended her without meaning to.
“Yes.” Her voice was so low he wouldn’t have known she’d spoken if he hadn’t seen her lips move.
When he pulled into the KUTE parking lot, Carrie opened the door and all but leaped out of his car, heading for her own.
“Where are you going?” he asked, surprised by the urgency with which she moved.
“To talk to the Secret Service.”
Kyle’s fist tightly closed around his keys.
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said, her shoulders square, her words defensive. “But I know what I saw, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise. If Sanders is here, there’s a reason, and personally I’d prefer to avoid a second meeting with that scoundrel.”
“Carrie, be reasonable. Do you even know where there’s an office for the Secret Service? I don’t. It isn’t likely they have one in Kansas City. If we’re going to do anything, we should contact the agent we met in Wheatland.”
She hesitated, as if she would have preferred him not to make sense just so she could defy him. “All right,” she finally agreed.
“We don’t have anything to worry about,” he said with a decided lack of confidence. Until now, he hadn’t considered that they could be in any real danger.
Not that any of this made sense. That was the reason he had so much trouble believing that Carrie had actually seen Sanders. To Kyle’s way of thinking, bumping into the kidnapper a second time was too much of a coincidence to be plausible. Unless it was on purpose. “We’ll talk to Agent Richards and go from there,” he said, fishing the business card from his wallet. He studied the phone number, recounting the anger he’d felt when Sam Richards had handed it to him after releasing him from the Wheatland jail cell. It seemed a lifetime had passed since then.
“I think we should,” Carrie agreed.
He followed her inside the radio station and into her compact office. Closing the door, he noted how terribly pale Carrie was. When she stood by her desk, he realized that her hands were trembling. It dawned on Kyle that she was frightened.
Perhaps he should have been more troubled than he was, but Kyle didn’t fear Max Sanders. No matter what crime Sanders was alleged to have committed, the man had meant them no harm. Otherwise he wouldn’t have risked being captured to set them free.
“Sweetheart, don’t look so worried.”
Carrie closed her eyes. “Please don’t call me that,” she whispered huskily.
“Why not?”
“It makes me uncomfortable.”
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other, but it did. Her words stung. Kyle wanted to know when he’d gotten so damned sensitive. It didn’t sit wel
l with him.
Needing to touch her, he cupped her shoulders. “I’ll make the call.”
“No,” she returned heatedly. “You weren’t the one who saw him. I did. I’m not even sure you believe me.”
His lack of faith hurt her, but he didn’t want them to sound like fools either. Carrie had a way of exaggerating things. He wished he could make her understand that he was only trying to protect her. “I believe you saw someone you thought was Sanders,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “Someone with a strong resemblance.”
“I saw him,” Carrie replied heatedly.
“Then that’s what I’ll tell Sam Richards.” Before she could protest, he reached for the telephone receiver and punched the number on the business card.
Carrie fidgeted while Kyle was on hold.
“Don’t you dare make light of this,” she cautioned, her dark eyes boring holes into him.
Kyle placed his hand over the receiver to assure her. “I promise I won’t.”
A long minute passed before Kyle was patched through to Agent Richards. “Richards here.”
“This is Kyle Harris,” he said crisply, wishing now that he’d let Carrie do the talking.
“Sanders has contacted you?” Richards broke in expectantly.
“Not exactly. Carrie and I were doing a promotion this afternoon, and she strongly believes she saw Sanders in the crowd.” He kept his voice as level and as unemotional as he could, not allowing his skepticism to bleed into his message. He was simply reporting what she had seen, or what she thought she’d seen. Unfortunately there could be a world of difference between the two.
Richards’s enthusiastic reaction surprised Kyle. Within the next couple of minutes the agent had made an appointment to talk with Carrie and Kyle that evening. Kyle gave Richards his address and they agreed on a time.
“What did he say?” Carrie asked anxiously when Kyle had replaced the telephone receiver.
“He wants to talk to us. We’re to meet him at my house this evening at seven.”
Carrie nodded, her eyes wide and anxious, uncertain now for the first time. “There isn’t much to tell.”
As far as Kyle was concerned, there wasn’t anything to tell. Carrie thought she’d seen Sanders. What Richards failed to understand was that a day didn’t pass when she wasn’t convinced she’d rubbed elbows with one of the FBI’s ten most wanted.
“Does Richards believe me?” she asked.
“Of course,” Kyle responded, sounding blasé. “Why shouldn’t he?”
“Well, first off, you don’t. Besides, I threatened to write my congressman the last time I saw Richards. I was upset about the way we…the way you’d been treated.”
“You threatened Richards? When?”
Carrie shifted her gaze away as if she was embarrassed. “The morning you were released from jail. It made me mad how they forced you to spend the night behind bars, and I didn’t want him to think he was going to get off scot free.”
With some difficulty, Kyle hid a smile. Carrie’s anger could be downright intimidating. He should know, after all the times he’d butted heads with her. It pleased him immensely to know she’d ruffled a few feathers on his behalf.
Such loyalty shouldn’t go unrewarded. Without thinking, without considering her response, Kyle turned her into his arms and kissed her. What started as a simple kiss of appreciation quickly turned into something far more.
Carrie sighed and opened her lips to his, and Kyle took immediate and grateful advantage. It was when his tongue breached her lips that she stiffened and flattened her palms against his chest and twisted her mouth free. He was relieved to note she was breathing as heavily as he. If they were going to be drawn together like this, then at least the feeling was mutual.
“I think you’re wonderful,” he whispered into her hair. He kept his hands loosely about her waist, reluctant to break the contact, however fragile. “It isn’t every day someone threatens a Secret Service agent on my behalf.”
“I may be wonderful,” Carrie said, not sounding completely herself just yet, “but you seem to think I need bifocals.”
“Carrie.” He sighed her name, not knowing what else to say. He simply didn’t understand why it was so important that he believe she’d seen Sanders. Frankly, he was far more comfortable believing she hadn’t.
This was the first time Carrie had been inside Kyle’s house. It was spotless. Even the magazines were neatly filed on the lower half of his mahogany coffee table. He subscribed to four newspapers, including The Wall Street Journal, she noted, flipping through the papers immaculately stacked next to the fireplace.
“Make yourself at home,” Kyle had said, heading for the back bedroom. He paused in the hallway and turned back to her, jerking his tie back and forth in an effort to loosen it. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“What time did Richards say he’d meet us here?”
Kyle looked at his watch. “Another twenty minutes or so.”
She nodded and strolled about the room, her hands behind her back. Everything was so orderly. It bothered her that one man could be so tidy. His entire life had been spent uncluttered and clean.
The phone rang just then. Kyle didn’t answer on the second or third rings, and she wondered if she should or let the answering machine catch it. On impulse she reached for the receiver just as it pealed for the fourth time.
A pause followed her greeting. “Is Kyle there?” asked a distinctly feminine voice. The low sultry tone conjured up visions of a generous body and a long-standing intimate relationship.
Carrie stiffened. Kyle had never mentioned another woman. Not that he would, especially. The thought that he might be involved with someone else produced a curious ache in the area of her heart. She slowly lowered herself onto the leather recliner.
“He isn’t available at the moment,” Carrie said in her best business voice. “May I take a message?”
The woman hesitated, then asked, “I recognize your voice, don’t I?”
This happened sometimes, but generally people didn’t remember where they knew her voice from.
“To whom am I speaking?”
“Carrie Jamison,” she admitted reluctantly. “Kyle and I work together.”
“Carrie.” The lilting voice lifted with enthusiasm. “Kyle’s mentioned your name a number of times.”
Carrie bet he had, and she strongly suspected it hadn’t been in a complimentary manner.
Just then Kyle stepped into the living room. Carrie placed her hand over the mouthpiece and glared at him. “It’s for you,” she said sharply.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know…some female.” She handed him the receiver as if she were afraid of contracting some fatal illness by holding on to it another minute.
Frowning, Kyle took it from her, but his gaze refused to leave hers, as if by staring at her long enough he could convince her she was the only woman in his life.
Carrie watched as Kyle’s face tightened.
“Yes, Mother,” he said.
Mother? Carrie mouthed. She wouldn’t believe that if her life depended on it. If Kyle thought she was stupid enough to believe his mother was on the other end of the line, he didn’t know her nearly as well as he assumed.
“Yes, Mother,” Kyle said a second time, clearly impatient to be off the line. “You’re right, I should have phoned you earlier. The convention was great.” His gaze briefly connected with Carrie’s. “Especially the first night.”
Tucking her arms around her middle, Carrie moved away from him and stared out the window.
“We’re seeing each other,” Kyle continued. “Yes, we’re serious. No…No, I believe that’s my business…”
Whatever else he meant to say, he didn’t. Carrie couldn’t decide if she was relieved or not.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” he repeated. This was followed by a series of “no’s” until he sighed heavily and held the receiver out to Carrie. “Mother wants to speak wi
th you.”
Carrie hesitantly took the phone from his hand. “Hello?” she said.
“My dear girl, I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you and Kyle are dating.”
“Thank you.” Carrie wasn’t sure what to say. The woman’s voice wasn’t any less sensual, but now that she listened objectively she could tell it was more mature. This actually was Kyle’s mother.
“If anyone can cure my son of his stuffy Republican ways, it’s you. I love your morning show and listen to it religiously.”
Carrie didn’t think it was fair to mention that she probably would have listened anyway because of Kyle.
“I’m Lillian Harris, Kyle’s mother.”
“I’m pleased to talk to you, Mrs. Harris.”
“Call me Lillian, please. I feel as if I already know you.” The words were raised and excited. “Kyle needs someone like you, my dear. Heaven knows why he’s turned out the way he has. We’re nothing alike.”
“Neither are we,” Carrie felt obliged to say.
“I know. I was about to give up on that son of mine. Knowing he’s dating you has given me real hope. Kiss my Ringo for me, won’t you?”
“Ringo?” Carrie repeated. Kyle groaned and sank into the recliner.
“That’s his given name, only he had it legally changed to Kyle when he was eighteen. He never appreciated the Beatles, I fear. Unfortunately, there’s a good deal about me my son doesn’t understand or appreciate, but that’s neither here nor there.”
“It was nice talking to you, Mrs. Harris.”
“Lillian, and it’s Ms. Harris. I never married.”
Once more Carrie’s gaze flew to Kyle, who was giving her his full attention as she hung up. Her head was buzzing with this newfound information. Kyle’s given name was Ringo? Her Kyle?
“All right, all right,” Kyle demanded, coming to his feet. “What else did she say?”
“That really was your mother?”
“Of course. Did she introduce herself as Summerlove?” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “She does that from time to time to impress my friends.”
“Your mother’s name is Summerlove?”
One Night Page 14
