“I've been waiting all day for this,” he said and, before she could react, he pinned her back against the car and brought his mouth down on hers. In some distant corner of her mind, sanity and decency protested, but she too had been waiting for this, and Randall's lips felt like solid velvet against hers. When he worked his thumbs between their bodies to circle her breasts, the sensation streaked from her nipples directly down between her legs so fast that she couldn't stop herself from arching into him.
His hands shifted lower and came up under her skirt. As his warm palms slid up the backs of her thighs above the stockings to touch bare skin, he lifted his head to murmur, “Thank you,” then continued his exploration upward, slipping his fingers under the lace teddy to cup her buttocks. Kate gasped against his mouth.
She frantically unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it farther open as each button came loose. Tracing the lines of muscle on his shoulders, she gave into the urge to taste him and put her lips against the triangle at the base of his throat, touching just the tip of her tongue to his skin. She inhaled his clean, male fragrance and felt, rather than heard, him groan with pleasure.
Then Kate stopped thinking about anything other than Randall's fingers coming between her thighs from behind and finding the most sensitive spot on her body, stroking it, gliding against it and up inside her. Kate felt her muscles begin to flood and tighten when Randall suddenly withdrew his hands. Ignoring her whimper of protest, he swept her up in his arms and carried her around to the front of the car.
She was briefly aware of warm metal beneath her and then Randall was between her thighs and inside her. He stretched her arms up over her head and held her wrists against the hood as he began to move against her, withdrawing almost completely before he drove himself back in. Kate found the bumper with her heels and opened herself to him fully, catching his rhythm with her own hips. Her climax hit so hard that only Randall's weight kept her from arching right off the car. The clench of her muscles triggered his orgasm and then they collapsed back on the Jaguar's sloping front.
Randall levered himself up onto his forearms to look down at Kate. “I think we've come up with a brilliant new ad campaign for Jaguar,” he said, still breathing hard.
“Depends on whether you're on the top or the bottom.”
Randall shifted and reversed their positions so that Kate found herself lying on top of him. “I'm willing to try it this way, too,” he said.
“You couldn't possibly...”
“Not immediately.”
Kate let her head drop onto his chest, enjoying the feel of his arms loosely crossed over her back and his hard thigh cradled between her legs. She sighed with sheer physical well-being.
Randall's arms tightened around her and she lay there with his heart beating in one ear and the sounds of crickets and wind-rustled leaves in the other. Her eyelids drifted closed.
“Are you asleep?” Randall's voice, a mixture of amusement and incredulity, rumbled in her ear.
“Of course not,” Kate said, dragging her consciousness back from the edge of oblivion. “I'm just very, very relaxed.”
“Well, as much as I like this pose, a Jaguar's hood leaves something to be desired as a mattress.”
Kate laughed and pushed herself to a standing position. Randall gave her a light kiss on the neck as he helped her straighten her clothes. “You just fulfilled a long-time fantasy of mine.”
“You've been drooling over too many auto parts calendars.”
Randall roared with laughter. “What do you know about auto parts calendars?”
“I've bought my share of alternators,” Kate said, grateful to turn the subject away from what they had just done.
Randall put his arm around her shoulders and steered her up to and through the front door. “So you fix cars, as well as coach soccer?”
“No, I just got sent out for spare parts. David and the boys worked on the car.”
Randall's arm dropped from her shoulders to the small of her back. “This way.”
Kate preceded him into the big den with the view of Manhattan.
“Let's see what Rosa cooked for us,” he said.
“Is your housekeeper still here?” Kate asked in dismay.
“No, I gave her the night off. And I'll erase the videotape in the security camera.”
Kate was horrified until she saw the evil glint in Randall's eye. “Wretched man.”
“Actually, I think that I'll keep the videotape for a lonely night.”
“There is no videotape,” Kate said with more certainty than she felt.
Randall held up both hands at shoulder height in a gesture of humoring her, then said, “Wait here,” and disappeared through another door.
She spotted the table set for two, positioned to take full advantage of the view. She smiled wryly at the vase of yellow roses. For Texas, she supposed.
A bottle of Merlot was open and breathing on the table. She decided that good manners would have to take a backseat to need. She filled the two glasses and took a gulp of hers as she stared out the window at the lights of New York City.
Her body was still tingling with the aftereffects of making love on the Jaguar. She envisioned sitting at this small table, locked into his dark gaze, listening to that Texas drawl and knowing what he felt like inside her. The tingling became a hum of longing. She should get out of here. Now.
Footsteps made her turn around. Randall was carrying a large tray, loaded with dishes. He slid it onto a serving table.
“We have duck cassoulet tonight, one of Rosa's specialties,” he said as he lifted a lid and a most delicious aroma wafted past Kate's nostrils. “She says that it suffers less than most dishes from being left in the warming pan for hours.”
Kate ignored her Pavlovian response to the smell of food.
“I'm sure that it's wonderful but I really think that it would be better if I went home now. I'm sorry to be an ungrateful guest,” she added as Randall's eyebrows became straight, angry lines across his forehead.
He dropped the lid back on the plate with a clatter. “What is the problem with you, Kate? We have an incredible time on the hood of my car, and then when I try to be a gentleman and give you dinner, you turn and run.”
The problem was that she didn't want him to be a gentleman. He was supposed to be an instrument of revenge, not a living, breathing human being.
She crossed her arms and looked at the fireplace, trying to formulate a plausible lie to get out of his house without further damage.
“Oh, no,” Randall said, shaking his head as he came toward her. “I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours. I don't want an excuse. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Why do you want to leave now? In fact, go right back to the beginning and tell me why you called me in the first place.”
By this time, Randall was so close that Kate was looking straight at his chest. She could feel his breath stirring her hair, but she refused to look up at his face. They stood like that for a moment as Kate's mind raced in circles. Then Randall put his hand under her chin and slowly exerted pressure upward.
“I said to look me in the eye and tell me the truth,” he repeated. Kate reluctantly raised her eyes to meet his cold stare.
She didn't like being bullied and suddenly she was just as angry as he was.
“Truth is vastly overrated,” she said, lifting her chin out of his grasp and turning her shoulder on him as she moved away.
Then she faced him squarely. “This particular truth is not flattering to either one of us.”
“I can handle it.”
Kate shrugged. As humiliating as it was to her, telling Randall why she had called him would undoubtedly cure him of any desire to spend more time in her company. Kate felt a momentary regret that he would have such a bad opinion of her forever. Well, that can't be helped.
“Shortly after I met you, I discovered that my husband had been having an affair prior to his death. I felt the need to retaliate in some way a
nd you were my retaliation.”
There was dead silence. Then, incredibly, the corners of Randall Johnson's mouth twitched upward. He started to chuckle and then he laughed outright. And kept on laughing.
“What is so funny?”
“I didn't think that anyone could surprise me anymore, but you've gone and done it.”
He dropped onto the couch behind him, wiping his eyes. Then he stretched out his legs and put his arms behind his head. “So you were using me as payback. Too bad your husband's not around to know that.”
Kate flinched. “Yes, well, I wasn't thinking clearly at the time.”
“Is revenge sweet, Kate?”
“No, it was a terrible idea, and I'm not proud of it. But now you know the truth. We can shake hands and go our separate ways.” Kate wished she felt happier at that prospect.
“I think you owe me.”
“What? No. No more debts,” Kate said. “I've paid the last one off.”
“You don't need to rush away, Kate. We can work this out to both our advantage,” he said, his drawl thick and slow. “I'll be happy to pick you up, bring you here, and... enjoy your company anytime you feel the need for revenge.”
“I told you that you wouldn't like the truth.”
“I'm willing to work with it.”
“I thought that all men fantasized about enjoying a woman's company with no strings attached.”
“We do.”
“Well, that's what you got. So why are you angry?”
Randall gave a bark of laughter. “Sheer perversity, I guess.”
Kate was on a roll and she wasn't ready to let it go at that. “No, that's not it. It's because I decided that I didn't want any ties to you. You didn't get to control the situation.”
Randall's expression had been darkening throughout her speech. “I don't know where you get your ideas about me, lady, but they're way off base.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture of exasperation.
Kate crossed her arms and made a pretense of waiting patiently. Secretly, she was relieved that he hadn't exploded. Her temper rarely got the better of her, and when it did she was always terrified of the consequences. Fortunately, Randall's anger appeared to have fizzled into mere annoyance.
“Oh hell,” he growled. “I'll take you home.”
Kate flashed him a false smile and started toward the front door. In two strides, he was by her side with his hand resting at the small of her back. When she glanced sideways, though, she found that he was looking straight ahead. He helped her into the car and slid in himself in silence. As he put the car in gear and swept around the courtyard, Kate said in a tone of polite interest, “How's the investigation of the oil tank fire going?”
Randall looked at her and shook his head. “Incredible. We go straight from true confessions to small talk.”
“There's no reason we can't be civilized about this.”
“I'm just a country boy from Texas. I don't know how civilized people carry on.”
Kate snorted.
Randall capitulated. “We caught the man. He's a former employee with a grudge against the crew foreman.”
“So he'll go to jail?”
“No, he'll go for treatment. He's an alcoholic and he'd been on a bender when he set the fire.”
“That's very humane of you.”
Randall glanced over at her. “Don't feel that you have to revise your opinion of me. It should have been caught when he worked for TexOil. We pay for any substance abuse treatment. It was our mistake; somehow he slipped through the cracks.”
“You sound more like a social worker than a capitalist.”
Randall shrugged. “Obviously, unstable employees – and former employees – are bad for the company. And this man has a wife and children who deserve a break. My mother was an alcoholic, so I know what it can do to a family.”
Kate was astonished by the personal revelation. She voiced a realization without thinking. “You know, I've never thought that you were a terrible person, or I couldn't have done what I did.”
“Much obliged.”
Kate flushed and kept quiet.
“What happened to being civilized? I was enjoying our conversation,” Randall prodded.
“It's your turn to think of a topic.”
“Hmm, what can we easily chat about?” Randall mused. “I know. What was your favorite locale: the terrace wall, my bed, or the Jaguar?”
Kate looked out her window and ignored him.
“You have to think about it?” he filled in for her. “Well, I know that mine was the Jaguar. There's nothing like a hot woman on the hood of a hot car.”
Kate couldn't suppress a snicker. “You sound like an advertisement for a bad pornographic movie. You could call it 'Body Shop Babes.'“ Her snicker turned into rib-wrenching laughter.
“I do my best to shock and provoke you and you laugh at me,” Randall complained.
“I'm sorry,” Kate gasped as she wiped her eyes. “I seem to be beyond shock these days.” She lightly touched his arm. “You know, Randall, I really do want to thank you.”
“All the women I make love to do.”
“No, seriously. You've made me feel better, and I'm grateful.”
“I'm not sure that I can return the compliment.”
“I wish that we could have met under different circumstances,” Kate said, looking down at her hands. “We might have liked each other.”
Randall's lack of agreement was made plain by his silence. Kate noticed with relief that they were nearing her house. After the Jaguar glided to a stop in her driveway, she waited for Randall to come around and open her door. They walked up her front steps side by side without speaking. Kate pulled her key out of her pocketbook and said with a rueful smile, “It's been very interesting knowing you.”
“Interesting is one way to describe it,” he said. Then he slid his arms around her and pulled her firmly up against him. Kate involuntarily looked up and saw his eyes gleaming in the porch light just before he lowered his head to kiss her. Kate allowed herself to lean into him this one last time and by the time he was done, she almost hoped that he would suggest a visit to the backseat of the Jaguar. He knew it, too; he held her in one arm and, with an insolent smile, ran his other hand slowly and deliberately across her breast and down her hip. Kate shuddered as his fingers brushed along her inner thigh. Then suddenly, he released her.
“Sweet dreams, Coach,” he said over his shoulder as he walked down the steps.
Eight
As soon as she had worked the kinks out of her back the next morning, Kate stomped into the kitchen and pulled the scrap of paper with Randall's number on it out of the knife drawer. She found a particularly repulsive rotten banana peel in the kitchen garbage and shoved the paper firmly under it. Washing her hands, she felt a gray mist of depression swirl around her. She stared blankly out the window over the kitchen sink as the water poured unnoticed over her thoroughly rinsed fingers.
“Hey, Mom. Can we have French toast for breakfast?” Clay asked as he came down the back stairs into the kitchen.
Kate jumped, then turned off the water and smiled at her son. She wasn't meant for mountaintops and Jaguars. She was meant to fix French toast on Sunday mornings for the two most wonderful boys in the world. “Sure. Pour yourself a big glass of orange juice and one order of French toast will be up in a minute.”
“Did you see the message I wrote down about Oliver coming today?” Clay said, pointing to the piece of paper on the counter.
Kate groaned inwardly. She had seen it last night and couldn't believe her bad luck that Oliver had called while she was out with Randall. “Yes. Thanks for writing it down.”
“Unlike some people we know,” Clay said, as he rolled his eyes upward toward Patrick's room. “Oliver couldn't believe that we beat Oak Grove! I told him about Mr. Johnson helping with the defense.”
Kate groaned out loud this time.
“What's wrong? Was that a secret?”
“N
o, no. I was thinking about something I forgot to do,” Kate lied shamelessly.
Clay hesitated. “Mom, did you know that Mr. Johnson was coming to our game?”
“No, he surprised me. But evidently your brother had some knowledge of it.”
Clay snorted in brotherly disgust. “Patrick is a moron.”
Kate let the insult slide, glad that her redirection of the conversation had worked. Clay did not mention Randall Johnson again.
Oliver arrived at two with steaks, a bottle of wine and sports magazines for the boys. After soccer and dinner, he joined her again on the porch swing. Kate tried to avoid the lecture she expected on Randall Johnson by bringing up business. “When do you think the partnership papers will be ready for me to sign?”
Oliver grimaced. “Who knows? Once you get lawyers involved, everything gets slower and more complicated.”
Kate laughed. “I'll tell Georgia you said so.”
“She'll sue me for slander,” he said smiling. Then he blew out a breath. “Our lawyer drew up the papers – which he claims are very straightforward. But then Paul Desmond's lawyer wanted to look at them. And of course he wants to change some clauses. It'll probably go back and forth another half a dozen times before the lawyers feel that they've collected enough billable hours for the whole thing.”
“Paul Desmond is the new partner?”
“Yes. You'll have to come and meet him, Kate. He's bringing a very extensive client list with him. He'll be good for C/R/G.”
They chatted for a while about the firm's future and then Oliver said abruptly, “I thought you weren't dating Randall Johnson.”
“I'm not,” Kate said, bracing herself.
“The boys seem to think you are. Clay told me that you were having dinner with him last night when I called. And that he came to their soccer game yesterday.”
Kate looked down into her wineglass. “Yes, well, both of those things are true. But his appearance at the soccer game was a total surprise to me. And I won't be having dinner with him again.”
A Bridge to Love Page 8
