by Fay Robinson
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“This wasn’t only an attempt to get us together. Aubrey saw it as a way to play a little practical joke.” She helped herself to another oyster, and out of devilment he waited until she’d put it in her mouth and started to chew. “He lied to you about where mountain oysters come from. They aren’t really oysters or grown in ponds. They’re from bulls, the parts they snip off when they’re castrated.”
The chewing stopped abruptly, and disbelief, or maybe it was horror, replaced her look of enjoyment. Her mouth was too full to talk, so she grunted what he interpreted as an appeal to admit he was joking.
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “That’s what they are. Some people around here consider them a delicacy.”
She politely covered her mouth with her napkin and spit the offending meat into it, then drank a full glass of tea in a few deep swallows.
“I can’t believe you sat there and let me eat these things and didn’t tell me.”
“You just got through saying how good they are.”
“That was before I knew what I was eating!” She picked up one of the pot holders she’d used earlier and threw it at him. It missed by a foot, sailing over his left shoulder and landing on the floor.
“It’s no different from eating fish eggs or snails in some fancy restaurant,” he told her.
“I suppose not, but those poor bulls.”
“Steers now,” he corrected.
“Sorry. Steers.”
“Do you know what sound a steer makes?”
“I don’t know. Moo?”
“Ouch!”
She broke down and laughed, and he told her another joke, then another, so he could hear the sound again and again, and watch the way her eyes sparkled and the way her mouth crooked up and her nose wrinkled.
He waited until dessert, when the mood was more serious, to break his news. “I’m finished with your book. Overall, it’s very good, but there are errors.”
“Errors?” She seemed to slump. “Not serious ones, I hope.”
“Nothing we can’t fix.”
“We?”
“Since you won’t give up on it, I’d better help you make sure it’s accurate. Maybe I can even minimize the damage. You tell me what you need, and I’ll do my best to provide it.”
For a moment she didn’t respond, only stared at him.
“This is a new twist,” he said finally. “You speechless for all of—” he looked at his watch “—fifteen seconds.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She smiled widely. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
He was sure he would when he had to tell his family what he was doing. They wouldn’t understand the necessity of killing James Hayes a second time.
AFTER SHE CLEANED UP the dishes, Kate followed him to the living room. He had a wonderful collection of classic-rock record albums he’d inherited from his brother, and she flipped through the selections with awe.
“Three Dog Night. Lynyrd Skynyrd. Queen. Chicago. Jimi Hendrix. Oh, my goodnesss! Pink Floyd. Can we play these or are they only to look at?”
“Play any you want.”
Thrilled, she pulled out several and stacked them on the stereo. After setting the volume low enough so they could talk, she joined him on the couch, but she wished there was another place to sit. He’d eased down in the middle so he could rest his leg on the big trunk he used as a coffee table, but that meant she had to wedge herself between him and the arm.
“Sorry for the cramped quarters. With only me here, I never saw a need to have much furniture. I can move the trunk over, if that helps.”
“That’s okay. Don’t bother.” She didn’t want him straining himself, and she wasn’t certain she could move the thing by herself.
She was acutely conscious of his bare leg resting against hers, his muscular hip pressing against her more rounded one, but it wasn’t long before she relaxed and stopped worrying about the intimacy of the position. He really did have a wonderful sense of humor when he allowed himself to show it, and he kept her laughing nearly continuously as he told her about some of the practical jokes Aubrey had pulled on him over the years. She found herself entertaining him, too, with stories about the antics of her brothers growing up.
Before she realized it, hours had passed. She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more. Maybe she was still giddy from what he’d told her over dinner, or that old wives’ tale about mountain oysters being an aphrodisiac was true, but she didn’t want to leave. She had to, of course.
“Well, it’s nearly eleven, and I should go.” Regretfully she packed up her computer and got her bill-fold and keys. “I had a nice time tonight,” she told him, leading the way to the front door. “I’m glad you talked me into staying.”
“Me, too.”
His gaze touched her hair, slid over her cheek and lingered on her lips before going back to her eyes. The caress was visual, but no less powerful than if he’d dragged his work-roughened fingers across her skin.
“Well…” she said, then totally lost her concentration in the fullness of his bottom lip, in the lock of dark hair that fell across his brow.
Like any woman, she reacted to a handsome face, but this man got to her, somehow, on a deeper level. He could move her to tears with only a few words, simply smile at her and make her want to giggle like a teenager. When he looked at her a certain way, like now, as if he wanted to kiss her, it hurt as much as a physical blow.
Seconds passed when he didn’t move or speak, when the demons of indecision and desire taunted him, and the battle he fought showed openly in his face.
Kate fought her own demons. Lust. Fear. Regret for what could never be. To care about this man, to let him touch her physically or emotionally, meant crossing a line she’d never crossed, jeopardizing the integrity of the most important work she’d ever done.
He made the decision for both of them, reaching past her to open the screen door and hold it open.
“Sleep well,” he said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“COME ON. Let me touch you. I’ll rub your stomach if you want. Or scratch your back. Wouldn’t that feel good? Don’t you want to come over here and let me see that pretty tail of yours?”
Sitting in a chair in the middle of Bret’s kitchen floor a week later, Kate tried to coax Sallie to come to her. Bret watched unnoticed from the doorway of the living room. The dog cowered by the back door and whimpered, looking first at Kate and then with longing out the screen door into the backyard.
“I don’t understand why you won’t let me touch you. I swear I won’t give you a bath, although I’ve got to tell you I think it would greatly enhance your appeal.”
Bret nearly had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud and alerting Kate to his presence. Every day she’d gone through this ritual so Sallie would get used to her and the sound of her voice. He admired her determination to win the dog’s trust, but it was downright comical listening to Kate talk to her as though they were girlfriends. And it was interesting, too. He’d learned quite a bit by eavesdropping.
“I really didn’t mean it when I told Bret you were ugly. I was mad that day because you ate my shoes and they were new, but that doesn’t mean I believe what I said about you. You’re really very…unusual-looking—particularly the way your bottom teeth jut out and can be seen even when your mouth is closed.”
Sallie whined.
“Oh, I’m not making fun of your mouth. I’ve got an ugly mouth myself.”
Bret’s forehead furrowed with disbelief. An ugly mouth? She had a beautiful mouth. It tormented the hell out of him.
Kate opened the can of dog food she’d been holding on her lap, shook it into a bowl at her feet and cut it into pieces, using the can as a knife. “How about something to eat?”
Sallie lifted her nose and sniffed the air.
“Mmm. Smell that?”
The dog took a tentative step forward.
“Big c
hucks of meat. Gravy. Looks so good I might eat it myself.”
Another step.
Bret held his breath as the dog eased to the bowl and cautiously began to eat. Kate reached out her hand and touched the dog’s head. Sallie jerked, but she didn’t move away, allowing Kate to stroke her.
“That’s a good girl. Now see, I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in this world. We’re going to be good friends.”
Bret cleared his throat. “She’s not so bad once she gets to know you,” he said. “She’s been mistreated, so she doesn’t trust people easily. Somebody tied her to a tree at the garbage dump. Left her without food or water. She was in bad shape when I found her.”
“And you rescued her?”
“More like…she rescued me. She came into my life in the aftermath of my brother’s death. Helping her recover forced me to focus on something positive.” He walked slowly over to where she was sitting, finally able to put a little weight on his leg and needing only one crutch. He pulled a chair around next to her and sat down. “And for the record, Kate, you don’t have an ugly mouth.”
“How long were you eavesdropping?”
“Long enough to find out a few things I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s impolite to lurk and listen to other people’s conversations?”
“If I don’t lurk, I don’t find out anything. You won’t talk to me like you talk to Sallie.”
“I talk to you all day long. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Yeah, you talk. About the book. About writing. About business. But the minute I ask you anything about yourself, you get that no-nonsense reporter look of yours.”
“I don’t have a ‘no-nonsense reporter’ look.”
“Yeah, you do. You’re wearing it now. It matches that silly business suit and the braid.”
For the past week, she’d arrived precisely at eight every morning, looking like a corporate executive dressed for a power lunch, in a suit, heels and tailored blouse. Lord, it was awful. The heat forced her to shed her jacket every day and helped lessen the severity of her appearance, but not by much.
Armor. That was it. After the night he’d nearly kissed her, she’d reverted to the all-business Kathryn Morgan, and the sweet woman he’d come to know had been swallowed up. But the good Kate was in there somewhere, and by God, he was going to find her.
He grabbed her braid with one hand and pulled off the rubber band that secured it with the other.
“Ow! What are you doing?” Her squeal sent Sallie scurrying for the back door. Kate tried to move away from him, prompting a tug-of-war with her hair as he unbraided it. He held the rubber band out of her reach. “Give that back.”
“Nope.”
“Hayes, give it to me right now!”
He stuck it in the pocket of his shorts, where he knew she wouldn’t attempt to get it.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No, but I might if I have to look at you trussed up in those ridiculous clothes and wearing your hair like that one more day.”
Sallie pawed the door and yodeled to get out, drawing their attention. “Now, see what you’ve done,” Kate said.
Bret got up, took the empty dog-food can from her hand and walked slowly across to the back door. He tossed the can in the trash and let Sallie out.
“We should get back to work,” she told him.
“No more work. We’re through for the day.”
“Through? We only got a few hours in.”
“It’ll have to be enough. I talked to Henry on the phone last night, and he’s upset because I haven’t been out to the ranch. I need to spend time with him.”
“Do you want me to drive you?”
“I was hoping you’d pick him up and bring him back here so the three of us could spend the afternoon together.”
“I don’t know…”
“I can’t guarantee excitement. Henry’s a cartoon freak, so we usually pop one of his favorite tapes in the VCR, lie on the couch and drink chocolate milk. How does that sound?”
“Nice, actually.”
“Then you’ll stay?”
She hesitated.
“Kate, you run out of here every afternoon the minute we’re done. When I try to talk to you about things that don’t have to do with the book, you change the subject. I’m going insane closed up in this house all day. I can’t drive. Take pity on me and stay for a few hours, okay?”
She pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. “All right,” she finally said. “We can’t have you going insane.”
“Great. Run by your motel on the way and change, though. I’m tired of you looking like my mother.”
BRET AND SALLIE were in the garden when Kate drove up with Henry. She muttered a curse. He’d been foolish to come down the concrete steps alone.
She lifted Henry from the car seat she’d borrowed from the truck. He hit the ground running, ignoring her warning to wait. When he threw himself at Bret’s legs, her breath stopped. In one fluid movement Bret grabbed him and lifted him easily with his free arm.
“Mo bing me see Bet,” Henry said.
“Mo?”
Henry pointed at Kate, making Bret laugh.
Kate walked to the edge of the garden, not daring to step off the grass into the soft dirt with her heels on. “I was trying to teach him to say my name and somehow the Morgan part ended up as Mo.”
“I like it.” He looked at the suit Kate still wore and frowned. “I thought you were going to change clothes before you came back.”
“Well, I didn’t.” In truth, she’d gone by the motel and picked up shorts, a top and her tennis shoes, but she was still undecided about whether or not to change into them. “What are you doing out here?”
“Trying to find some decent tomatoes. I’ve let most of them dry up or rot.”
He leaned over to set Henry on the ground.
“Wait!” Kate yelled. “Don’t put him down!”
He stopped in midair. “Why not?”
“The dog’s loose.”
“She won’t hurt him.” He set Henry down. “She’s crazy about him.”
Kate watched in disbelief as Henry went down on both knees in the dirt and Sallie lavished his face with licks.
“Don’t let that dog kiss you,” Bret gently scolded. “You’ll give her a disease.” Henry giggled and got up. Bret dropped a tomato into a plastic grocery sack. “I need somebody strong to hold this for me while I put the tomatoes in it,” he told the child. “I don’t think Mo’s strong enough. What do you think?”
“Uh-uh,” Henry said.
“You might be, though. Think you can do it?”
Henry nodded. “Bet hurd leg,” he told Kate. He pointed to Bret’s bruised thigh.
“Yeah, I’m hurt.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “But I’m feeling a lot better now that you’re here to help me.”
He picked two more tomatoes, discarded one and dropped the other in Henry’s sack. The next two he started to toss away, then stopped. He looked Kate up and down and grinned.
“What?” she asked, not understanding what he intended to do until a rotten tomato splattered against her chest. The second one hit her in the stomach before she could react.
“Guess you’ll have to change now.” He roared with laughter.
Kate was initially too stunned to move. She stood with her mouth open and her arms raised in the air like the nearby scarecrow, shocked that he’d actually hit her with rotten tomatoes. The smell was horrible. The liquid immediately seeped through the fabric to wet her skin.
“I can’t believe you did that!” She stared down at her skirt and blouse.
“I warned you to change into playclothes.”
“Is this your idea of playing?”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Among other things. But I doubt you’d let me do those.”
Her mind went through and discarded various forms of retaliation. Slipping out of her shoes, she stepped into the garden and carefully chose two
of the rotten tomatoes.
His eyes widened. “Whoa, wait a minute,” he said, sobering, trying to retreat as she advanced on him. “No fair. I can’t run away from you.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you used me for target practice.” She raised her hand.
“You throw that at me and you’ll be sorry.”
“I’m really scared. Let me show you how scared I am.” She heaved it at his chest, but it hit him on the shoulder, splattering over the side of his face. Henry squealed and clapped his hands. Sallie let out an excited yodel.
Bret wiped the dripping juice off his face with his sleeve. “Oh, you’re asking for it now, Morgan. I think you’ve been asking for it ever since you met me.” His expression told her the double meaning of his words was intended.
Kate decided she could also play this game. She put her hands on her hips and taunted him. “Oh? And you think you’re going to be the one to give it to me?”
“I think I’m exactly the one who’s going to give it to you.”
“We’ll see about that.”
A battle erupted, one in which there was no hope of a winner. Bret flung down his crutch and pelted her unmercifully with tomatoes. Kate gave back as good as she got. Her aim wasn’t as accurate as his, but she was able to move, while he had to remain stationary.
Within a couple of minutes, they were both covered with the stinking liquid. So was Henry, who had jumped into the game with enthusiasm.
Kate threw a tomato and accidentally grazed Bret on his bruised thigh. He yelped in pain and fell backward into the dirt. “Oh, Bret, I’m sorry!” She dropped her other tomato and rushed to him, keeling at his side. He had his eyes closed and was groaning. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you on your sore leg. I was aiming for your head.”
“Bet hurd?” Henry asked, leaning over to look at him.
Bret opened his eyes, grinned and grabbed them both, making them shriek in unison. “Gotcha.” He pulled them down on top of him, then bellowed, “Whew-ee, somebody stinks!”
AFTER KATE HAD CLEANED UP Henry and herself and changed their clothes, he led her by the hand into the living room and pointed at one of the tapes on top of the VCR. “This one?” she asked, and he nodded.
