“How can I be so unfeeling?” he said, his lower lip curling. “Easy, Kate. You can’t believe how easy. I learned from the masters. There was no love lost between my grandparents and me. Surely you knew that.”
She hadn’t, not really. Yes, at the time, when he’d taken her to see them, it had felt like a duty visit. Still, she’d never suspected the depth of his antipathy. And, since he’d never told her in so many words or shared with her any details of his relationship with them, how was she supposed to know?
Kate tried to think what it would take for her to feel the same way about her own family. After her mother’s death, when she was ten, her brothers had taken it upon themselves to shield her from life’s harsh realities. Since then, they’d nagged her incessantly, interfered in her life even more, and coddled her to death. She’d had to put up one heck of a fight to win her independence from their loving tyranny. But, when all was said and done, she knew she’d be lost without them.
While on one level, it appalled her that Steve could feel this way toward his family, on another she felt a sense of elation, a spark of hope. This was the closest she’d ever seen him come to revealing what he hid from the rest of the world. They were approaching a bridge they had never crossed before. And if they crossed it? Would it make things magically okay between them again?
She wasn’t so naive as to believe that. The twenty-six-year-old who had trusted in the power of love, and the happily ever after of marriage, had died right along with the expiration of said marriage. Still, if Steve did open up, if he allowed himself to express what he was feeling, it would be a positive step. It would give her hope that, one day, he could totally let go of the past that held such a grip on him.
“What did they do to you to make you feel this way?” she asked, holding her breath and crossing her fingers.
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
She sagged in defeat. “Standard response number two,” she muttered.
“What?”
“It’s what you always say when you want to run away from a conversation,” she said tiredly.
“As you can see, I’m still sitting here. I’m not running anywhere.”
Not physically, anyway. “Prove it,” she challenged, echoing the words he’d uttered the night before. “Tell me what your grandparents did to you to make you feel this way.”
The air around them seemed to crackle with the fury that sparkled in his eyes. A nerve throbbed in his temple as, body rigid, Steve clenched and unclenched the hands that rested on the desktop. Then, before her eyes, his anger disappeared as suddenly as the blip of a falling plane from a radar screen. His body relaxed. His fingers went slack. The nerve in his temple quieted, and his eyes went blank.
As a triumph of will over instinct, the transformation was truly awe inspiring to witness. Like the first time she’d watched the wonders of computer-enhanced imagery on the movie screen, all Kate could do was stare in wonder. And fight the urge to cry.
She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. After all, if the intimacies of marriage hadn’t been able to break down the barriers he’d built between him and the rest of the world, what made her think their nonintimate, enforced togetherness would?
Steve took a drink from his antacid bottle, then drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“You want to know what they did, Kate?” he said mildly. “They turned their backs on my mother when she married my father. They never lifted a finger to help her when she went to them after my father started beating her. They had a ton of money, but they couldn’t be bothered to spare a small portion of it so she could take me and get away from him. And all because she was young and foolish enough to marry a man they didn’t approve of. They never forgave her for that, not even after she died.”
“They did take you in,” Kate felt compelled to point out.
He nodded. “Because of all the publicity surrounding my mother’s death. They were worried what people would say if they didn’t. Believe me, if there hadn’t been so much media attention, they would have been more than happy to let me rot in foster care. They never once showed me an ounce of affection while they were alive. Don’t expect me to grieve for them now that they’re gone.”
And don’t expect me to care, about anyone or anything, he might as well have said.
Didn’t he have any close, emotional ties with anyone? Kate wondered. Outside of herself and Quincy, if there was anyone else he’d been close to, she’d certainly never been aware of it. And now she and Quincy were no longer a part of his life. How lonely he must be.
But then, maybe he wasn’t lonely at all. Surely there was at least one woman out there who would be more than willing to share his bed without asking for more.
Kate tried to look at him with a critical eye, to observe him as a stranger would. A stranger of the female persuasion. What she saw was a forceful, attractive, compelling man. She didn’t kid herself that he could turn quite a few heads. He’d turned her own nearly three hundred and sixty degrees the day they met.
In all probability, there was a long line of women who would gladly stick around without constantly griping because he didn’t share more than his body with them. At the head of the line, in Kate’s mind anyway, stood Liza Cook. The woman seemed devoted to Steve. After all, she had not only delivered a suitcase full of clothing that she’d presumably packed, but his antacid bottle and favorite ice cream, as well. How many employees would go that extra mile for a man who was merely her boss? Kate’s stomach turned at the thought
She bit her lip. It was one thing to realize that she was still attracted to her ex-husband. It was another thing entirely to feel a stab of jealousy at the thought of some other woman being held in his arms. Being jealous meant that she wanted to be held there, too. And she didn’t. Not unless he could offer her real intimacy, along with the physical.
Twice, in a matter of hours, he’d managed to take her by surprise. First, the story of his secret flute lessons and their horrific aftermath, and now this. She’d learned more about him in one day than she had the entire time they were married. What, she wondered, was the difference between now and then?
The difference, she decided, was that while he was guarding her, he couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t spend hours away from her, immersed in his work, because she was his work. He couldn’t dismiss her or what she had to say with one of his three standard responses. He couldn’t distract her by taking her in his arms and kissing her until she was a mindless mass of carnal need. Whether he liked it or not, he had to stay put and deal with her.
She supposed she should feel heartened that he’d actually spoken about two of the events that had shaped him into the man he was today. But she wasn’t If anything, she was disheartened. By suppressing the emotion evoked by his recollections, he was distancing himself from his own past. And, in so doing, he was distancing himself from anything or anybody who could possibly cause him further pain.
“My turn to ask a question, I believe,” Steve said, intruding on her thoughts. “What about you and Dagwood? How serious is it between you two?”
Chapter 7
Kate rolled her eyes. “His name’s David.”
“Ah, yes,” Steve drawled, “Davin.” Leaning back in the leather chair, he swiveled it around so that he was looking at her head-on, instead of from the side. “Are you two, as they say, an item?”
She had just about reached the end of her proverbial rope. Steve had a photographic memory; he knew darn well what David’s name was. And this gag was growing old fast.
“It’s David,” she snapped, resisting the childish urge to stomp her foot. “David, David, David. Stop pretending you can’t remember, when we both know better. And, no, we’re not an item. We barely know each other.”
“From what I observed, Dirk—” At her warning look, he cleared his throat. “Er, David would like to change that. The question is, would you?”
She wasn’t about to discuss her current relationship with her for
mer husband. “What about you and Liza?” she countered.
He blinked. “Liza and me? What about us?”
She borrowed his phrasing. “Are the two of you an item?”
“Liza’s married, Kate. She’s very much in love with her husband.”
“But she doesn’t wear a wedding ring,” Kate blurted, then bit her lip in consternation at what she had revealed. Equally distressing was the relief she felt, now that she knew Steve wasn’t involved with his beautiful receptionist.
Steve’s gaze narrowed on her. “You checked to see if Liza was wearing a wedding ring?”
Unable to sustain the intensity of his regard, she looked away. “It’s an automatic reflex,” she explained, trying not to sound defensive. “Women always check. Don’t men?”
“Not other men. And we only check out a woman when we’re interested. Even then, some of us don’t bother.”
“Oh,” she said weakly.
“The reason Liza isn’t wearing a wedding ring is because it’s at the jeweler’s. They’re adding the diamond her husband gave her for their first anniversary.”
Kate was beginning to wish she’d never brought up the subject. “He sounds like a devoted husband.”
“He is. They’re very happy.”
She heard Steve push back his chair. A second later, the outline of his shadow fell directly across hers, and the heat from his body reached out to encircle her. Kate looked up into blue eyes that brimmed with curiosity, and something else. Something that made her heart pound.
“Why did you think Liza and I were involved?” he asked softly.
Her shoulders lifted and fell in what Kate hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “She’s a beautiful woman. She seemed to anticipate your every need before you said a word. She stocked my freezer with rocky road ice cream. I just assumed...”
“That it meant we had an intimate relationship,” he supplied.
She nodded.
“Liza is an extremely efficient receptionist, which makes her worth her weight in gold.”
“I hope that’s reflected in her paycheck,” was all Kate could think of to say.
“It is.”
“Good.”
“Did it bother you?” he asked, his gaze still on hers.
“Did what bother me?”
“The thought of Liza and me together.”
Kate swallowed. If only he knew. “Why should it bother me?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strained.
He took a step closer, entered her personal space, and Kate had to tilt her head up a notch to maintain eye contact. She fought the urge to take a step back. Not for the world would she let him see exactly how much his closeness affected her.
“Maybe,” he said, “it bothers you for the same reason that the thought of you and David together makes me sick to my stomach.”
This was not going at all the way she had anticipated, Kate thought desperately. She had to find a way to defuse the situation, before she did something silly, like throw herself at him.
“We used to be married, Steve. It’s only logical we should feel a lingering sense of...protectiveness toward each other.”
“Is that what we’re feeling? Protective?”
His eyes glittered with a familiar promise, and her mouth went dry. He smelled good, too, like her soap and his aftershave. The thought of him using the same bar of soap that she had shot Kate’s pulse rate up.
“What else could it be?” she squeaked.
He leaned in closer. “I was thinking that, maybe, it might have something to do with the fact that you still turn me on.”
Kate’s heart thundered. Oh, boy. This was definitely not good. She was starting to feel the way she had in their early days together, when all he had to do was look at her for her to be lost. “I...I do?”
“You know you do. And I still turn you on, too.” His gaze bored into hers, making it difficult for her to breathe. “The question is, what do you want to do about it?”
What did she want to do? She wanted to jump him, that’s what. But she couldn’t go back to what they’d had before. It hadn’t been enough then, and it wouldn’t be enough now.
Kate drew a deep, bracing breath. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“What would be the point? It won’t change anything, Steve. It certainly won’t change the past. Besides, just because there’s still a leftover... something...between us, it doesn’t mean anything. I understand it’s quite common in divorced couples, given their earlier, er, intimacy. It certainly doesn’t mean we can’t fall in love with someone else and build a lasting relationship.”
“Someone like David, you mean.”
“Yes.”
Steve’s eyes went suddenly blank, and he stepped away. Kate nearly sagged in relief.
“It’ll never work, you know,” he said.
“What won’t?”
“You and David.” When she looked at his face, she saw that he was once again the distant, cynical man he’d been in his office yesterday. “The two of you together would be disastrous.”
Kate welcomed the anger that flared at his audacity. How dare he? And why, even in his most infuriating moments, did she still find him so damnably attractive? Why did she still ache for him with every fiber of her being?
“So what you’re telling me,” she said, “is that, on top of your photographic memory, you can also see into the future? Okay, Karnac, I’ll bite. Why won’t it work?”
“Because he’s put you on a pedestal. He’ll give in to your every whim and wait on you hand and foot. In short, he’ll worship the ground you walk on, treat you like a queen.”
Surprised laughter bubbled from her throat. “And this is a bad thing?”
Steve nodded. “For you it is. Trust me, Kate. You’ll be bored to tears in no time. Not to mention claustrophobic. Because, on top of worshiping at your altar, David will also want to know every little move you make.”
He was right, darn him, but she wasn’t about to tell him so. Nor was she about to admit that she’d already decided not to see David again. The decision had come to her the night before, while lying awake in bed, listening to Steve play his flute.
Truth was, she’d known the minute David kissed her last night that there was no hope. With all her heart she’d wanted to feel something when his lips had touched hers, had willed herself to feel at least a twinge of promise for what was to come once they had some time alone together. But there had been nothing. The kiss had been merely pleasant, and nothing more. She’d felt no twinge. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Her pulse rate had remained steady, darn it all.
It wasn’t that she wanted Steve back. She wasn’t a glutton for punishment. But surely, somewhere, there had to be at least one man who could make her feel the way Steve did just by looking at her. One man who would share with her his hopes, dreams and thoughts without compromising her need for space. Or was she wishing for the moon?
“That’s just your opinion,” she said.
“You’re right,” he replied. “It is. So, are you going to answer my earlier question? Are you falling for him, Kate?”
She didn’t have the energy for any further prevarication, particularly when that prevarication inevitably landed her in a pot that was hotter than the one she was already in. “It’s too soon to tell. Frankly, after what I went through when our marriage failed, I’m in no hurry to fall for anyone.”
For the briefest of seconds, she thought she saw relief flash in his eyes. Before she could be sure, the emotion, whatever it had been, was replaced with his normal cool detachment. One eyebrow arched in query. “You sound bitter.”
“Is that so surprising? After everything that happened?”
“Frankly, yes, seeing as you were the one who walked out on me. If anyone should be bitter, I would think it would be me.”
Which he obviously wasn’t. She wondered how long it had taken him to erase her presence from his apartment, to forget she’d ever been there. She wondered if he’d ever lain awake
night after endless night, body and soul aching, because his other half was missing. Looking at him now, his eyes alight with cynical amusement, it was impossible to imagine.
“As I said before, you left me long before I left you.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment “Yes, I do seem to recall you saying something like that.”
She waited for him to ask her to elaborate, but he offered nothing more. Which was vintage Steve. When she’d announced that she wanted a divorce, he hadn’t asked her to elaborate then, either. Instead, he’d merely nodded, told her to have her lawyer call his, donned his coat and walked out the door, leaving her to shed rivers of tears while gathering up what few possessions she’d wanted to take with her.
He glanced at his watch. “Martha should be back any minute. Anything else you want to discuss before she arrives?”
Kate rubbed a hand over the tight muscle at the back of her neck and longed for a few hours of deep, comalike sleep. She couldn’t think clearly anymore. Being so close to the source of her agitation wasn’t helping any.
“Actually,” she replied, “there is. Two things, really.” One had nagged at her since yesterday afternoon. The other had badgered her since the demise of their marriage. “About the ad Liza thought I came to your office to answer?”
“Yes?” He sounded cautious.
“What was it for?”
There was a long pause. When he spoke, the tension in his shoulders, as well as his voice, told Kate that he was uncomfortable with the subject.
“My company keeps a running ad in the newspaper. We help battered women escape their abusers.”
Because of his mother. How like Steve, she thought, to do something so wonderful. And not to want to take any credit for it, saying his company kept the ad in the newspaper, when he was the company. Kate wished she hadn’t asked. Now that she knew, it was going to make him even more difficult to resist.
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