The elderly woman extended a gleaming wood cane. Kate took it and examined the beautifully crafted object.
“It was carved from oak by my husband’s grandfather in 1850. His brother was a silversmith and fashioned the ram’s head for it. Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” Kate said reverently.
“I was going through some things in the attic the other day and stumbled across it. It polished up quite nicely, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it did.”
“I want you to have it.”
Kate looked at her blankly.
“For a weapon. It could do some serious damage if you brought it down on a person’s skull. I was going to give it to you tomorrow. But when I saw all the commotion out here tonight, I thought you might need it sooner.”
Kate didn’t want to think that she might have to defend herself that way. “It looks pretty valuable to me. Aren’t you afraid of something happening to it?”
Mrs. Edmund shrugged. “I’d rather use a thing and have it lost or broken than hide it away and never see it Besides, it’s a little too long for me, but it looks just the right height for you. Carry it with you when you’re out and about. Make your own fashion statement. And keep it by your bed at night”
“But—”
“Please, Kate. I’ll sleep better knowing that you have it.”
“All right, Mrs. Edmund. If you insist. Thank you.”
The silver ram’s head felt cool to the touch, the wood of the shaft smooth and remarkably substantial. It was probably an illusion, but she did feel safer just holding it.
“I know I have a sword somewhere up in my attic,” Mrs. Edmund said. “If you’d like that, too, I’ll try to find it. I can’t guarantee its sharpness, however.”
In a pinch, Kate thought she could use the cane to hobble someone. But to actually pierce someone’s flesh with a sword... Her mind balked at the repellent thought.
“That’s okay,” she said quickly, amazed that her neighbor could nurture romantic fantasies about heroes one minute, and bloodthirsty thoughts about villains the next. “I’ll make do with the cane.”
Like a vision out of a dream, Steve appeared in the doorway with the birdcage, coughing but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Kate forgot all about canes and swords. Profound relief mixed with joy filled her. He was okay!
“Excuse me,” she said to Mrs. Edmund. Heart hammering, she raced to the door. When she came to a stop in front of him, it took every ounce of her willpower not to fling herself into his arms.
“It took you so long to come out, I was afraid something had happened to you,” she said.
Her words seemed to please him. “As you can see, I’m fine. The smoke’s starting to clear a bit, so it wasn’t too bad. The only problem was, I had a bit of trouble getting the blasted cage off the hook.”
When she saw the towel draped across the cage, some of her happiness faded. She wondered if Steve had placed it there to protect the birds, or to protect her from a sight she didn’t want to see.
“How...how are they?”
“It was too dark in there to tell.”
“Have they made any sound at all?”
“No.”
There was a pause as both of them stared at the silent cage. “Kate,” Steve finally said.
“Yes?”
“If they’re not all right, I want you to know that it’s not your fault.”
She looked up at him in confusion. “Why would I think that?”
“I just want you to know that.”
She reached a hand toward the cage, then pulled it back. “I can’t look.”
“I’ll look, if you want.”
All Kate could manage was a nod of her head.
She couldn’t watch while he peered under the towel. When she finally steeled herself enough to meet his gaze, she saw that his eyes were smiling.
“I think they’ll live.”
Kate pulled the towel away and was rewarded with an angry chirp from Wilma. Fred added his complaint a second later. Both birds began flying in frantic circles around the cage.
“Hi, my beauties,” she crooned. “You had quite an adventure, didn’t you? Lucky for you—for us—Steve was here to save the day.”
When she glanced at Steve, she was surprised at the odd look on his face. “I can’t thank you enough. What you did... well, it went beyond the call of duty. Mrs. Edmund was right. You are a hero.”
His eyes went blank. “I’m nobody’s hero, Kate,” he said roughly, handing her the cage. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to speak to your brother.”
After beckoning George to come stay with her, Steve stalked across her yard to where Carlo stood. Kate wondered why he was so angry. True to form, he’d run away instead of hashing out with her whatever it was that was bothering him. Though she knew that should anger her, she couldn’t seem to summon up any answering indignation.
Shrugging, she devoted her attention to Fred and Wilma, cooing at them until they’d both calmed down. It really didn’t matter one way or the other if Steve was angry with her. All that mattered was that he was safe.
Chapter 13
Feathers fluttering furiously and chirping at the top of their lungs, Fred and Wilma sent a shower of seeds cascading onto the pristine surface of his grandfather’s gleaming mahogany desk. While he spoke into his headset to George, Steve’s gaze roved the library of the mansion his maternal grandparents had called home. His home, now
The furniture might be vintage Edwardian, and the books lining the mahogany-paneled walls leather-bound first editions, but he still hated it. With a passion. To him, every room was as cold and unfeeling as the couple who had lived there for the forty years prior to their deaths.
He kept telling himself he was going to get rid of it, sell the whole place, lock, stock and barrel. But for some reason, he never quite managed to pick up the phone to call a Realtor. Although officially his residence, he tried to spend as little time there as possible. That it was his only link to his mother probably had something to do with his ambivalence about selling.
Tonight, though, his hatred for the place wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was that it was the perfect place for Kate to hide. Not only was the stone monstrosity a fortress, it was guarded by a security system that far surpassed the one he’d set up at Kate’s house. It was also protected on all sides by an electrified fence. Kate’s biggest fan wouldn’t look for her here. At least, not initially.
It had taken over two hours for the smoke to clear and for the police to complete their investigation. When he and Kate had finally been able to reenter her house, the smell of smoke had been overwhelming. Once Kate realized it would take more than a good airing to rid the place of the odor, it hadn’t been too difficult for Steve to convince her to come here. It also hadn’t hurt that all six of her brothers had arrived by that point, and had added their voices to his. It was probably the only time they’d ever agreed unanimously on anything. But then, the Garibaldi brothers were overprotective, not stupid. They had grasped immediately the truth it had taken Steve much longer to convey to Kate: that she would be safer here than anywhere else.
With the resources Steve now knew the man who called himself Kate’s biggest fan possessed, he would find them here sooner or later. In all likelihood, the way things were going, it would be sooner. They’d be foolish to believe otherwise. Which was why Steve had doubled the guard outside. For a little while, though, Kate would be safe. They would have some breathing room in which to plan their next move.
There was much to do. Topping the list was securing the home they’d just left. First thing in the morning, he would make the necessary arrangements for the living room window to be fixed, and for a cleaning crew to see to Kate’s furniture, carpeting, draperies and wardrobe. Liza would be assigned the responsibility of purchasing whatever necessary clothing items Kate needed in the interim.
His gaze roved to where Kate sat on an overstuffed sofa. Her face was
pale, her arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Reaction must have finally set in, because she was shivering. From where he stood, he could hear her teeth chattering.
Biting back a curse, Steve ended his conversation with George and strode to the bar. After pouring whiskey into a cut crystal glass, he sat down next to her.
“Drink this,” he ordered. She gazed at him, an uncomprehending look in her eyes, and he added, “It’ll help.”
Obediently she tipped the glass back. She grimaced and shuddered as the liquid slid down her throat.
“Feel better?” He took the glass from her and placed it on a side table.
“A little.”
Not enough, obviously, since she still continued to shiver. At least her teeth had stopped chattering. A quick perusal of the room failed to offer up a blanket or a throw he could wrap around her. Without taking time to ponder the wisdom of his actions, Steve gathered her close.
She went into his arms without protest, her body molding to his, seeking out his heat. Nestling his chin atop her head, he held her tightly, running his hands up her arms and over her back until the shivering finally stopped and she lay quiet against him. For a moment, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. If she had, he knew he would sit there the rest of the night, holding her. Hell, he’d sit there throughout eternity, if only she’d let him.
Lord, but she felt good. Even though it was highly inappropriate, given the circumstances and their past, he felt desire stir. At the moment, he would have given all he owned to have one more night with her, to know the heaven that was the joining of their two bodies.
He really was the lowest of the low, to be having these thoughts, these feelings, these needs, when all he should be concentrating on was providing Kate with the comfort she so obviously needed. His only excuse was that he’d discovered he was still in love with her, and the knowledge had bowled him over.
He’d known it the minute he walked out of her house carrying that blasted birdcage, and she’d looked so happy to see him his heart had practically exploded from his chest. Then, when she’d told him she’d been worried about him, it was all he’d been able to do to keep from dragging her into his arms and kissing her senseless.
All this time, he’d thought he was over her. All this time, when he’d told himself that her actions had killed any feelings he had for her, it had only been hurt pride. He loved her, always had, always would. That was why there hadn’t been any other women. Because there was only one Kate.
She still had feelings for him, too. She’d told him so earlier that evening when he’d tried to kiss her. While that should encourage him and give him hope that she might come to love him again the way she had before, he knew better. And the reason he knew better was because she’d also asked him if he could guarantee that things would be different between them this time around. The sad truth was, he couldn’t.
So far as he could tell, things weren’t any different now than they’d been eighteen months ago. He certainly wasn’t any different. While his love for her had always been enough for him, her love for him had not. Because of that, he hadn’t been able to give her what she needed. And what he could give her had left her unsatisfied and wanting more. It would be foolhardy in the extreme to think they had a future.
His heart grew heavy with the knowledge that, one day all too soon, she would walk out of his life forever. The first time had been bad enough. This time would be far worse. This time he wouldn’t have his wounded pride to fall back on. All he’d have were his pain and his longing.
Better that, though, than for her to get a glimpse of the monster that lurked within him. He’d take the pain of her leaving him any day over the disgust and loathing that would surely fill her eyes if she found out what he was really like, deep inside. The disgust and loathing Steve felt for his own father.
“What a fool I was,” she said into his chest. Her fingers clenched around the fabric of his shirt as she pounded her fist against him. “What a blind, stupid, careless fool.”
The misery in her voice jolted him out of his self-pity. There would be plenty of time later for him to indulge in feeling sorry for himself. When she was gone, there would be all the time in the world. Right now, though, Kate was here, and she needed his comfort. That was what he would give.
“What are you talking about?”
“Tonight,” she said. “It was all my fault.”
“If you mean the smoke bomb, then I was the one at fault, Kate.”
She leaned back in his arms and shook her head vehemently. “I’m talking about me. I thought I was the only one at risk. But I’m not. He’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t care who he hurts to get to me. I put Martha at risk by allowing her to continue to come to work every day. And I put poor Mrs. Edmund and Clara Mae at risk by having them at my home tonight. How could I have been so selfish?”
The anguish in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. “Shh,” he crooned, gathering her close once more. “Don’t waste your time thinking about it. What’s done is done. The past can’t be changed.”
Remember that, he told himself. Remember that when you start wishing for the impossible.
“I have to think about it,” Kate said. “You saw them tonight. Neither one of them can move faster than a snail. They never would have gotten out in time if that smoke bomb had been thrown when they were there. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to them.”
“But nothing happened,” Steve pointed out. “They’re both fine.”
“No thanks to me,” Kate said bitterly. “No matter what Martha says, she’s not coming back to work until this madman is caught. From this moment on, she’s on paid leave.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that.” Not to mention that he never would have allowed Martha to lead Kate’s biggest fan here.
“Want to hear something funny?” She gave a shaky laugh as she pulled away from him. Reluctantly he let her go.
“Right about now something funny would be really welcome,” he said.
There was no laughter in the eyes that gazed straight into his. Her expression was deadly serious. “I’m so glad I can lean on you in this. I’m glad I’m not alone. Isn’t that hilarious?”
Damn. To have her openly admit her need for him, even though it wasn’t the emotional need he yearned for, was the answer to a dream. How was he going to be able to continue resisting her, if she went and did things like that?
“I’m not laughing, Kate.”
“Neither am I. Thanks for going in after Fred and Wilma. It’s the most unselfish thing I think I’ve ever seen anyone do.”
“You must not get out much,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood, to make her feel better.
“I’m serious, Steve.” Reaching out, she traced a finger from his right cheek to his jaw, causing an electric shock to reverberate throughout his body. Her eyes darkened and her voice lowered sensuously. “I don’t know anyone else who would have done what you did tonight. Do you know how special you are?”
“Kate,” he said hoarsely.
“What?”
How could one little word be so provocative? The sound of it, husky and beguiling, wrapped itself around him like a beckoning arm, drawing him closer and pulling him even further under her spell. Another moment, and he’d be lost.
Steve swallowed. “If you keep touching me like that, looking at me like that, and talking to me like that, I’m going to kiss you.”
Instead of pulling away as he’d expected, she leaned closer. Her breasts brushed against his arm. Her finger moved from his jaw to his lips. Deliberately, tantalizingly she traced their outline. It was all he could do not to pull that questing finger into his mouth and suck. Hard.
“Good,” she said. “I want you to kiss me.”
His heart thundered. She was slowly, methodically driving him insane. With what little control he still possessed, he repeated, “I haven’t changed, Kate. I’m the same person I was eighteen months ago, when you l
eft me.”
Her finger stilled against his lips; her chin set defiantly. “I don’t care.”
“You will later.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “Maybe not. Right now, all I know is I need this. I need you.”
Her beautiful brown eyes gazed at him with warmth and desire. It was the way she’d looked at him when they first met, the way she’d looked at him during the early days of their marriage. He hadn’t been able to resist that look then, and he couldn’t now.
“Kiss me, Steve.”
A wild hunger—to touch and be touched by her—inflamed him. While his reason pulled him one way, his desire, a thousand times stronger, pulled him another. With a groan, his mouth claimed hers, his mind whirling drunkenly with the taste and feel and smell of her.
Her mouth was voracious as her lips parted and her tongue sought and tangled with his. Hot with urgency, her hands undid the buttons on his shirt, then slid restlessly across his chest. Her touch nearly drove him crazy. Sinking his hands into the hair at the nape of her neck, he pulled her so close he could barely breathe. He wanted to inhale her, to make her essence his. In that moment, he knew he could kiss her a thousand times, make love to her a thousand more, and still it wouldn’t be enough.
It was the danger that had made her toss her normal caution to the wind. Danger always intensified every sensation. That was one of the first things he’d learned as a cop. After meeting death head-on and surviving, things tasted different, sounded different, smelled different, felt different Needs, especially that most basic human need to connect and feel close to another person, were exaggerated.
That was all it was, he told himself. The danger. That was why she was kissing him this way. Nothing more.
The knowledge didn’t stop his erection from hardening painfully. It didn’t stop his questing hands from searching out the softness of her breasts and thumbing her nipples into taut buds that just begged for suckling. And it most certainly didn’t stop his heart from yearning for the impossible: that they could start over, with a fresh slate, and live happily ever after.
Taking one of her hands, he pressed it against his hardness. “Feel how I want you, Kate.”
Guardian Groom Page 19
