by Lisa Jackson
“Krista and I will be home late Sunday afternoon,” he was saying. “Probably around six. And the moving company has promised to have the bulk of our belongings in Seattle by Monday—or so they claim. What won’t fit into the apartment, I’ll have stored. Will the apartment be ready for us?”
Erin couldn’t hide the disappointment that swallowed her. She had hoped that Kane would be home this evening or, at the very latest, Saturday.
“What? Oh, yes,” she agreed distractedly. “Mr. Jefferies moved out at the beginning of the week, and the cleaning people were here earlier today. I’m sure it will be ready by Sunday evening….”
“Good—I’ll see you then.”
“Good night, Kane,” Erin whispered, not wanting to hang up the phone and sever the frail connection that bound her so distantly to him.
“Erin?”
“Yes…”
A pause. “Good night.”
Erin felt an incredible loneliness as she hung up the phone.
“Oh, darling!” Kane murmured to himself as he heard her ring off. He slammed the receiver down in mindless frustration and rubbed his hands together anxiously, all the while leaning against the wall and staring at the clean, white telephone in his sister’s apartment. How was he going to handle his emotions for Erin? God, had it only been four days since he had last seen—or touched—her?
Somehow he had expected and silently hoped that once he had put some distance between himself and her, the miles would erase the goddesslike image of her body and that her likeness in his mind would fade, cooling his hot-blooded need for her. But he had been mistaken, grievously mistaken, and just the reverse had occurred. Instead of forgetting her, the image of her body was burned savagely on his mind and achingly in his loins. He felt an urgency, a driving need, warm and molten, that throbbed against his temples and fired his blood. He had to see her again, and he had to see her soon, or he would surely go out of his mind!
And the lies! Oh, God, how he hated his lies. The duplicity of his situation was eating at him, tearing at him from the inside out. He slammed a powerful fist against the wall. How could he lie to her and to himself? How long could the tense charade continue?
Kane had convinced himself that it would be a good idea to live near Erin, in the same building, in order that he might watch her more closely. But now, as he stood staring at the phone, he knew that it was only his mind playing games with him again. Another lie to justify his urgent need to be near her and protect her.
Protect her? He laughed mirthlessly at himself and reached for the tall glass of Scotch that he had poured before placing the long-distance call. Erin needed to be protected all right, from Kane Webster, from himself! He was the one who continued relentlessly and mercilessly to track her down, stalking her like some wild, criminal creature. He was suspicious of her and too much of a coward to admit it for fear of losing her. A damned hypocritical bastard, that’s what he was, he conceded to himself.
Kane’s hands were shaking from the turbulent emotions that were battling cruelly within his mind. He took a long drink, and groaned as the Scotch hit the empty bottom of his stomach. His thoughts were black and excruciating as he strode into the living room and levered himself down on his sister’s uncomfortable floral couch.
Why couldn’t he just forget about Erin O’Toole and her crazy connection with the embezzling scam? Why did he continue to torture himself with the memory of the gentle curve of her neck, the slim, feminine contour of her legs or the longing way that her near-violet eyes could reach out and touch him?
Damn it, Webster, his persistent mind scolded, control yourself! For all you know that woman is just another two-bit thief, and you’re letting her rip you to shreds! She’s destroying your objectivity! Erin’s a witch, his mind warned, the less you have to do with her, the better!
Kane shifted his weight uncomfortably on the prim blue cushions of the couch and took another long dissatisfying swallow of the potent warm liquor. He needed to break away from Erin and the spell she was casting over him, he reasoned.
Then, why the hell couldn’t he convince himself to leave her alone?
Chapter 10
Sunday morning dawned as gloomy as the rest of the Seattle weekend had, but Erin felt somewhat lighthearted at the prospect of seeing Kane again. It seemed like forever since he’d been gone. She stretched out on the bed, and discovered that she ached all over. The muscles in her arms and legs seemed to be all knotted and twisted this morning, but she smiled to herself in spite of the pain. In order to keep her mind off Mitch’s indictment and Kane’s absence, Erin had run out on Friday night and purchased several gallons of paint. That night and all day Saturday she had spent repainting Mr. Jefferies’ old apartment and the massive entry hall. This morning her aching muscles rebelled.
Against the silent protests of her body Erin got up and showered. The new paint job had been such an improvement to the building that she had decided to continue the project. She had almost finished with the entry hall, and today she planned to tackle Mrs. Cavenaugh’s apartment. Ever since the repairmen had insulated the flooring and the windows, parts of the little old lady’s apartment had suffered, and a new coat of paint would hide the dirt and chips of paint that had been loosened during the repairs. Erin shuddered when she realized that she had nearly depleted her savings with the insulation and painting projects. But it just had to be done!
Mrs. Cavenaugh had embraced the idea of repainting her apartment, and by the time Erin had swallowed a cup of coffee, looked over the headlines and nibbled on a bit of toast, it was only eight-thirty. Yet Mrs. Cavenaugh was already up and ready to help Erin with the task at hand.
For as long as Erin could remember, she had never seen Mrs. Cavenaugh in anything other than a prim housedress and a single strand of pearls. But this morning the half-bent figure of Mrs. Cavenaugh sported a garishly loud green-and-purple scarf that was wound tightly over her hair, oversize trousers and tennis shoes that were presumably antiques. She was a comical sight in the outlandish outfit, but her blue eyes sparkled with eagerness, and against Erin’s protests, the elderly woman grabbed a brush and began to tackle the job at hand, only pausing to grumble about working on the Sabbath. Erin ignored her complaints and to her amazement found that Mrs. Cavenaugh was handy with the brush and had the endurance of a woman half her age.
“This is a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Cavenaugh exclaimed, “even if we are working on the Lord’s day.” Her blue eyes were carefully checking over some of Erin’s work with a practiced eye. Not able to complain about Erin’s painting, she continued, “Adds a lot to this apartment, don’t you think?” A pleased smile crept over her features. “You really are a dear. You know that don’t you?”
“Keeping up the place comes with being a landlord, especially when I can get some free labor from my tenants,” Erin laughed, and smiled at the little old lady’s compliment.
“Is the apartment across the hall ready for the new renters? When are they moving in?”
Erin slid a suspicious glance at the old woman, who seemed intent on trimming the windowsill. “As a matter of fact I expect them this afternoon.”
“Young couple?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, a mischievous twinkle lighting her eyes.
“No…it’s my boss…Mr. Webster. I believe you’ve met?” Erin watched Mrs. Cavenaugh carefully.
“Charming man,” the older woman agreed, and paid even more attention to the windowsill. “So he’s moving in today?”
“Why do I get the feeling that I’m giving you yesterday’s news?” Erin asked suspiciously. “You’ve already talked to Kane about this, haven’t you?”
A smile spread across the wrinkled face. “Someone’s got to look out for your best interests.”
“And so you just appointed yourself guardian angel. Is that it?”
“Close enough,” the little old lady averred. “Now don’t you go jumping off the deep end, Erin,” Mrs. Cavenaugh cautioned, and wagged a warning finger at Erin. “I just ha
ppened to mention in passing that there was an apartment available….”
“In passing! When did you see him?”
Mrs. Cavenaugh’s face puckered for a moment. “Now listen here, young lady. I may not be as young as I used to be, but I have a pretty good idea of what goes on around here. I’ve seen Kane come and go, and I’ve also got it figured out that, for some reason, the good Lord only knows why—” she threw her hands heavenward in supplication “—you keep running away from him.”
Erin began to protest, but the gray-haired lady would have none of it. “It’s a mistake, pure and simple, for you to run from him. That man is hopelessly in love with you, Erin. Only a fool would let him slip through her fingers!”
“Oh, Mrs. Cavenaugh,” Erin sighed, smiling wistfully. “If it were only that simple.”
“It’s as simple as you want to make it!” The old lady eyed Erin speculatively, and noticed the resigned droop of her shoulders. “Why don’t you call it a day—the apartment looks fine. You go and get ready for your Kane and his daughter. They’ll be here this evening, won’t they?”
“Just where do you get all of your information?”
“Like I said before, I know what’s going on around here!” Before Erin could voice any further questions or objections, the little bent figure hustled her out the door. “And don’t you dare accuse me of snooping,” she cautioned. “It’s just that I care.”
“I know you do,” Erin replied thoughtfully, “but you do seem to have an uncanny sense about some things….”
“Comes with age, don’t you know? My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and my hearing’s, well, you know, a little less than it should be. But I can still see love when it stares me in the face. Now you hurry up and change into something pretty and make that man something to eat. I bet he’ll be starved by the time that he gets home—the girl too.”
Erin started to protest, but Mrs. Cavenaugh pursed her lips, and balanced the wet paintbrush on one of her hips. “Scoot,” she ordered authoritatively, and slammed the door tightly shut.
Several hours had passed, and somewhat reluctantly Erin had taken Mrs. Cavenaugh’s well-meant advice, although she doubted that the little old lady downstairs would consider her slim designer jeans and print cotton blouse as “something pretty.” But Erin had made dinner for Kane and his daughter, and then, realizing that Krista probably wouldn’t be able to manage the two flights of stairs to Erin’s loft, Erin had moved the meal downstairs to Kane’s new apartment.
She paced nervously while waiting for Kane and glanced at her watch for the sixth time in the space of two minutes. The trying weekend without Kane had made Erin anxious and tired, and she found that her nerves were stretched as tightly as a piano string. How would she react to Kane’s daughter, and how would Krista take to Erin? she wondered.
Erin had attempted to bring as much warmth as possible to the small first-floor apartment by bringing down a few pieces of her own furniture. To her credit, the interior did look a little less stark and more comfortable for all her efforts. The creamy new coat of vanilla paint gleamed against the walls, and the few small pieces of furniture, though sparse, added a homey familiarity to the otherwise vacant rooms. Erin had even managed to cover the card table with a linen cloth and centered a basket of freshly cut flowers on it. All in all, she had done a decent job of making the tiny apartment attractive, but she found it impossible to shake the feeling of apprehension that shrouded her.
The sound of feet shuffling in the hall snapped her attention to the doorway. She knew in an instant that Kane and Krista had made it home. Nervously she wiped her suddenly wet palms against her jeans and pasted what she hoped appeared to be a pleasant smile upon her face. The door swung open, and father and daughter entered the room. At the sight of Kane, Erin’s heart turned over. How, in less than a week’s time, could anyone change so dramatically? He was dressed casually in jeans and a dove-gray sport shirt, but that’s where the casual part of his image stopped. Erin could sense the signs of strain that hardened his features, the thin light lines of worry that crowded his forehead, and the somber tilt of his dark eyebrows that were drawn thoughtfully together. His eyes met hers for an instant, and a small flicker of relief and affection lessened the severity of his gaze.
At the whirring sound of the electric wheelchair, Erin’s attention shifted from Kane to his daughter. Krista was beautiful in the classical sense: a small, evenly featured madonna-like face was surrounded by thick sun-kissed curls, and her deep-set, perfectly round icy blue eyes held a sparkle and a vibrancy of youth. Krista’s cheekbones were high and noble-looking with just a hint of pink on her otherwise cream-colored skin. Even in the awkward stage of adolescence, it was apparent that Krista was an uncommonly beautiful girl. Only the mechanical apparatus of the wheelchair detracted from her wholesome, California-fresh appearance. The presence of the chair served to remind Erin just how difficult the past year of Krista’s life must have been for the girl. Krista was much too young to have lived through the trauma of witnessing the death of her mother. Erin felt her heart go out to the attractive young girl in the mechanical beast.
There was a tense, uncomfortable moment as Kane dropped a bundle of blankets that he had carried into the apartment and shoved them into the corner of the room. For a split second Erin faced Krista alone and was surprised at the frigidity in the pale blue eyes of the girl. Uncontrollably Erin shuddered and hoped that she could somehow warm the cool look that hardened Krista’s gaze.
After unsuccessfully arranging the pillows and blankets on the floor, Kane gave up and turned his attention to Erin and his daughter. He seemed to appraise the uncomfortable situation with knowing eyes, and in a minute, he stood near to Erin. He was smiling, but the grin was tight, forced as if it had been slapped on his face out of courtesy. He showed Erin no outward signs of affection, but his stormy gray eyes reached out for hers, and Erin realized that he was asking her indulgence with Krista. It was as if he had expected a confrontation.
“Krista,” Kane said softly, and Krista’s blue eyes sparked upward to him. “This is Erin. You remember, I told you all about her. She works with me at the bank, and she’ll be our landlord until we can find a house of our own.”
Krista’s eyes skimmed over the interior of the apartment, and from the bored expression on her face, Erin sensed that Krista disapproved of her new, temporary home. The girl remained silent, and for a moment Erin wondered if the child had even heard the introduction. Kane’s black eyebrows melted together at Krista’s rudeness, but for the moment, he chose not to reprimand her.
Continuing the stilted introduction, he said more firmly, “Erin, this is Krista.”
Erin ventured a sincere smile for Kane’s daughter and wondered if the young girl in the wheelchair was just being shy, or if she was purposely giving Erin the cold shoulder.
“Hello, Krista. It’s nice to meet you. I hope you like it here.” Erin offered her outstretched hand to the girl.
Krista didn’t immediately respond to Erin’s attempts at warmth or friendliness. In fact, Erin was sure that if Kane hadn’t been in the room, the blue-eyed girl would have ignored the greeting altogether. As it was, Krista hesitated and then gave Kane an accusatory glare before finding her manners and answering. “Hello,” Krista muttered, almost to herself, and reached for Erin’s open hand. Her eyes never met Erin’s puzzled gaze.
There wasn’t time for a proper handshake. The instant that Krista’s smaller fingers touched Erin’s open palm, Krista withdrew her hand as rapidly as if Erin’s touch were white-hot. Erin found herself standing with her open palm suspended in midair and an astonished expression of disbelief disturbing her features. Was the girl always so rude, or did she just dislike Erin?
Rather than commenting on Krista’s complete lack of courtesy, or asking about Krista’s negative reaction to her, Erin forced herself to remain calm and hang on to the dwindling amount of control she had left. Excusing herself, she turned her attention back to the k
itchen and preparation of the meal. She could hear the quiet reprimand that Kane was giving his daughter, but Erin tried to ignore the tension between father and daughter—tension that she somehow felt guilty about. Perhaps she shouldn’t have intruded on the homecoming. It was obvious that Krista would have preferred that she had never met Erin.
As Erin extracted the platter of warm rolls from the oven, she tried to convince herself that she was overreacting to Krista’s indifference. After all, the girl was crippled and probably extremely self-conscious about her condition. Aside from the obvious, it couldn’t be easy moving away from the only family and friends she had ever known to start a new life with a father she barely knew in an unfamiliar city. It was no wonder that the child was frightened and misbehaving. Give the girl a chance, Erin told herself. It’s barely been a year since the young girl witnessed her mother’s death. Armed with a new sense of conviction, Erin decided to ignore Krista’s coolness.
As she carried the meal to the table, Erin forced herself to smile and say, “Let’s get started. I bet you’re both hungry!”
“We ate on the plane!” Krista announced, and Kane threw his daughter a grim reproving glance. Krista ignored it.
“That we did,” Kane acknowledged, “but that was several hours ago, and it wasn’t particularly good.” His steely eyes never left his daughter—it was as if he dared her to act up again. “As I recall, you didn’t eat much.” The muscle cords in his neck stood out clearly against the collar of his shirt, and Erin could tell that he was holding on to the rags of his patience. He was about to explode. Erin hoped that Krista realized how dangerous the situation was becoming.
Erin tried to steady her rapidly disintegrating nerves as she went back to the kitchen for the rest of the food. She couldn’t gloss over it, not even to herself. For some reason Krista was determined to hate her. Erin mentally counted to ten, took several deep breaths, and once again poised, returned to face father and daughter. It took a lot of determination, but she was able to hide her discomfort and take some pleasure in serving the dishes that she had so meticulously prepared, although Krista’s discriminating eye took a little of the satisfaction away from her. Though the aroma of the food was tantalizing, and the marmalade-glazed game hens looked delicious as they sat on a platter of steaming wild rice and mushrooms, the meal was tense and uncomfortable. Everything seemed to have soured slightly under Krista’s disapproving blue-eyed gaze.
