Less of a Stranger

by Nora Roberts

  “Hey, keep this back there for me, will you?” Katch dumped the elephant into his arms and captured Megan’s hands again as she ducked under the counter. As she straightened, he tugged, tumbling her into his arms.

  The kiss was long and demanding. When Katch drew her away, her arms were around his neck. She left them there, staring up into his face with eyes newly aware and darkened.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for three days,” he murmured, and rubbed her nose lightly with his.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He lifted a brow at that, then grinned when her blush betrayed the impetuousness of her words.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Megan began, dropping her arms and trying to wriggle away.

  “Yes, you did,” he countered. Katch released her but dropped a friendly arm over her shoulder. “It was nice; don’t spoil it.” He took a sweeping glance of the park. “How about a tour?”

  “I don’t know why you want one. We’re not selling.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, as maddeningly confident as ever. “But in any case, I’m interested. Do you know why people come here? To a place like this?” He gestured with his free arm to encompass the park.

  “To be entertained,” Megan told him as she followed the movement of his arm.

  “You left out two of the most important reasons,” he added. “To fantasize and to show off.”

  They stopped to watch a middle-aged man strip out of his jacket and attempt to ring the bell. The hammer came down with a loud thump, but the ball rose only halfway up the pole. He rubbed his hands together and prepared to try again.

  “Yes, you’re right.” Megan tossed her hair back with a move of her head, then smiled at Katch. “You ought to know.”

  He tilted his head and shot her a grin. “Want me to ring the bell?”

  “Muscles don’t impress me,” she said firmly.

  “No?” He guided her away with his arm still around her. “What does?”

  “Poetry,” Megan decided all at once.

  “Hmm.” Katch rubbed his chin and avoided a trio of teenagers. “How about a limerick? I know some great limericks.”

  “I bet you do.” Megan shook her head. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Coward.”

  “Oh? Let’s ride the roller coaster, then we’ll see who’s a coward.”

  “You’re on.” Taking her hand, he set off in a sprint. He stopped at the ticket booth, and gratefully she caught her breath.

  I might as well face it, she reflected as she studied his face. I enjoy him. There isn’t any use in pretending I don’t.

  “What are you thinking?” Katch demanded as he paid for their ride.

  “That I could learn to like you—in three or four years. For short periods of time,” she added, still smiling.

  Katch took both her hands and kissed them, surprising Megan with the shock that raced up her arms. “Flatterer,” he murmured, and his eyes laughed at her over their joined hands.

  Distressed by the power she felt rushing through her system, Megan tried to tug her hands from his. It was imperative, for reasons only half-formed in her brain, that she keep their relationship casual.

  “You have to hold my hand.” Katch jerked his head toward the roller coaster. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  Megan laughed. She let herself forget the tempestuous instant and the hint of danger. She kept her hand in his.

  Katch wasn’t satisfied with only the roller coaster. He pulled Megan to ride after ride. They were scrambled on the Mind Maze, spooked in the Haunted Castle and spun lazily on the Ferris wheel.

  From the top of the wheel, they watched the colored lights of the park, and the sea stretching out to the right. The wind tossed her hair into her face. Katch took it in his hand as they rose toward the top again. When he kissed her, it felt natural and right . . . a shared thing, a moment that belonged only to them. The noise and people below were of another world. Theirs was only the gentle movement of the wheel and the dance of the breeze. And the touch of mouth on mouth. There was no demand, only an offering of pleasure.

  Megan relaxed against him, finding her head fit naturally in the curve of his shoulder. Held close beside him, she watched the world revolve. Above, the stars were scattered and few. A waning moon shifted in and out of the clouds. The air was cool with a hint of the sea. She sighed, utterly content.

  “When’s the last time you did this?”

  “Did what?” Megan tilted her head to look at him. Their faces were close, but she felt no danger now, only satisfaction.

  “Enjoyed this park.” Katch had caught the confusion on her face. “Just enjoyed it, Megan, for the fun.”

  “I . . .” The Ferris wheel slowed, then stopped. The carts rocked gently as old passengers were exchanged for new. She remembered times when she had been very young. When had they stopped? “I don’t know.” Megan rose when the attendant lifted the safety bar.

  This time, as she walked with Katch, she looked around thoughtfully. She saw several people she knew—locals out for an evening’s entertainment mixed with tourists taking a preseason vacation.

  “You need to do this more often,” Katch commented, steering her toward the east end of the park. “Laugh,” he continued as she turned her head to him. “Unbend, relax those restrictions you put on yourself.”

  Megan’s spine stiffened. “For somebody who barely knows me, you seem remarkably certain of what’s good for me.”

  “It isn’t difficult.” He stopped at a concession wagon and ordered two ice-cream cones. “You haven’t any mysteries, Meg.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  With a laugh, Katch handed her a cone. “Don’t get huffy. I meant that as a compliment.”

  “I suppose you’ve known a lot of sophisticated women.”

  Katch smiled; then his arm came around her as they began to walk again. “There’s one—her name’s Jessica. She’s one of the most beautiful women I know.”

  “Really?” Megan licked at the soft swirl of vanilla.

  “That blond, classical look. You know, fair skin, finely chiseled features, blue eyes. Terrific blue eyes.”

  “How interesting.”

  “Oh, she’s all of that,” he continued. “And more: intelligent, a sense of humor.”

  “You sound very fond of her.” Megan gave the ice cream her undivided attention.

  “A bit more than that actually. Jessica and I lived together for a number of years.” He dropped the bomb matter-of-factly. “She’s married now and has a couple of kids, but we still manage to see each other now and again. Maybe she can make it down for a few days; then you can meet her.”

  “Oh, really!” Megan stopped, incensed. “Flaunt your relationship somewhere else. If you think I want to meet your—your—”

  “Sister,” Katch supplied, then crunched into his cone. “You’d like her. Your ice cream’s dripping, Meg.”

  They walked to the entrance gates of the park.

  “It’s a very nice park,” Katch murmured. “Small but well set up. No bored-faced attendants.” He reached absently in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.

  “I forgot to give you your check.”

  Megan stuffed it into her pocket without even glancing at it. Her eyes were on Katch’s face. She was all too aware of the direction his thoughts had taken. “My grandfather’s devoted his life to this park,” she reminded him.

  “So have you,” Katch said.

  “Why do you want to buy it?” she asked. “To make money?”

  Katch was silent for a long moment. By mutual consent, they cut across the boardwalk and moved down the sloping sand toward the water. “Is that such a bad reason, Megan? Do you object to making money?”

  “No, of course not. That would be ridiculous.”

  “I wondered if that was why you haven’t done anything with your sculpting.”

  “No. I do what I’m capable of doing, and what I have time for. There are prior
ities.”

  “Perhaps you have them wrong.” Before she could comment, he spoke again. “How would it affect the park’s business if it had some updated rides and an expanded arcade?”

  “We can’t afford—”

  “That wasn’t my question.” He took her by the shoulders and his eyes were serious.

  “Business would improve, naturally,” Megan answered. “People come here to be entertained. The more entertainment provided, the slicker, the faster the entertainment, the happier they are. And the more money they spend.”

  Katch nodded as he searched her face. “Those were my thoughts.”

  “It’s academic because we simply haven’t the sort of money necessary for an overhaul.”

  “Hmm?” Though he was looking directly at her, Megan saw that his attention had wandered. She watched it refocus.

  “What are you thinking?” she demanded.

  The grip on her shoulder altered to a caress. “That you’re extraordinarily beautiful.”

  Megan pulled away. “No, you weren’t.”

  “It’s what I’m thinking now.” The gleam was back in his eyes as he put his hands to her waist. “It’s what I was thinking the first time I saw you.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” She made an attempt to pull away, but he caught her closer.

  “I’ve never denied that. But you can’t call me ridiculous for finding you beautiful.” The wind blew her hair back, leaving her face unframed. He laid a soft, unexpected kiss on her forehead. Megan felt her knees turn to water. She placed her hands on his chest both for support and in protest. “You’re an artist.” He drew her fractionally closer, and his voice lowered. “You recognize beauty when you see it.”

  “Don’t!” The protest was feeble as she made no attempt to struggle out of his gentle hold.

  “Don’t what? Don’t kiss you?” Slowly, luxuriously, his mouth journeyed over her skin. “But I have to, Meg.” His lips touched hers softly, then withdrew, and her heart seemed to stop. The flavor of his lips as they brushed against hers overwhelmed her. They tempted, then ruled. With a moan of pleasure, Megan drew him close against her.

  Something seemed to explode inside her as the kiss deepened. She clung to him a moment, dazed, then terrified by the power of it. Needs, emotions and new sensations tumbled together too quickly for her to control them. As panic swamped her, Megan struggled in his arms. She would have run, blindly, without direction, but Katch took her arms and held her still.

  “What is it? You’re trembling.” Gently, he tilted her chin until their eyes met. Hers were wide, his serious. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.”

  The gentleness was nearly her undoing. Love, so newly discovered, hammered for release. She shook her head, knowing her voice would be thick with tears if she spoke. Swallowing, Megan prayed she could steady it.

  “No, it’s . . . I have to get back. They’re closing.” Behind him, she could see the lights flickering off.

  “Meg.” The tone halted her. It was not a demand this time, but a request. “Have dinner with me.”

  “No—”

  “I haven’t even suggested an evening,” he pointed out mildly. “How about Monday?”

  Megan stood firm. “No.”

  “Please.”

  Her resolution dissolved on a sigh. “You don’t play fair,” she murmured.

  “Never. How about seven?”

  “No picnics on the beach,” she compromised.

  “We’ll eat inside—I promise.”

  “All right, but just dinner.” She stepped away from him. “Now, I have to go.”

  “I’ll walk you back.” Katch took her hand and kissed it before she could stop him. “I have to get my elephant.”

  Chapter Six

  Megan held Katch’s face in her hands. With totally focused absorption, she formed his cheekbones. She had thought when she had first begun to work on this bust that morning that it would be good therapy. To an extent, she’d been right. The hours had passed peacefully, without the restless worry of the past two nights. Her mind was centered on her work, leaving no space for the disturbing thoughts that had plagued her all weekend.

  She opened and closed her hands slowly, using the muscles until the cramping was a dull ache. A glance at her watch told her she had worked for longer than she’d intended. Late-afternoon sun poured through the windows. Critically, as she pulled on each finger to soothe it, Megan studied her work.

  The model was good, she decided, with just the proper touches of roughness and intelligence she had aimed for. The mouth was strong and sensuous, the eyes perceptive and far too aware. The mobility of the face that Megan found fascinating could only be suggested. It was a face that urged one to trust against better judgment and common sense.

  Narrowing her eyes, she studied the clay replica of Katch’s face. There are certain men, she thought, who make a career out of women—winning them, making love to them, leaving them. There are other men who settle down and marry, raise families. How could she doubt what category Katch fell into?

  Megan rose to wash her hands. Infatuation, she reflected. It’s simply infatuation. He’s different, and I can’t deny he’s exciting. I wouldn’t be human if I weren’t flattered that he’s attracted to me. I’ve overreacted, that’s all. She dried her hands on a towel and tried to convince herself. A person doesn’t fall in love this quickly. And if they do, it’s just a surface thing, nothing lasting. Megan’s eyes were drawn to the clay model. Katch’s smile seemed to mock all her sensible arguments. She hurled the towel to the floor.

  “It can’t happen this fast!” she told him furiously. “Not this way. Not to me.” She swung away from his assured expression. “I won’t let it.”

  It’s only the park he wants, she reminded herself. Once he’s finally convinced he can’t have it, he’ll go away. The ache was unexpected, and unwelcome. That’s what I want, she thought. For him to go away and leave us alone. She tried not to remember the new frontiers she had glimpsed while being held in his arms.

  With a brisk shake of her head, Megan pulled the tie from her hair so that it tumbled back to brush her shoulders. I’ll start in wood tomorrow, she decided, and covered the clay model. Tonight, I’ll simply enjoy a dinner date with an attractive man. It’s that simple.

  With a great deal more ease than she was feeling, Megan took off her work smock and left her studio.

  ***

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Pop pulled the truck into the driveway just as Megan reached the bottom step.

  She noticed the weariness the moment he climbed from the cab. Knowing he hated fussing, she said nothing, but walked over and slipped an arm around his waist.

  “Hi, yourself. You’ve been gone a long time.”

  “A problem or two at the park,” he told her as they moved together toward the house.

  That explained the weariness, Megan thought as she pushed open the back door. “What sort of problem?” Megan waited for him to settle himself at the kitchen table before she walked to the stove to brew tea.

  “Repairs, Megan, just repairs. The coaster and the Octopus and a few of the smaller rides.” He leaned back in his chair as Megan turned to face him.

  “How bad?”

  Pop sighed, knowing it was better to tell her outright than to hedge. “Ten thousand, maybe fifteen.”

  Megan let out a long, steady breath. “Ten thousand dollars.” She ran a hand under her bangs to rub her brow. There was no purpose in asking if he was sure. If he’d had any doubt, he’d have kept the matter to himself.

  “Well, we can come up with five,” she began, lumping the check