“Come back to bed,” she said, her hands tugging him to her insistently.
His answering smile pushed all the right buttons. “I’d love to.” He pressed a hit-and-run kiss to her lips, his gray eyes sparkling with laughter and an underlying promise. “But Jamie’s awake, and I’m going to head him off before he comes looking for us. I left something for you on the dresser.” Another kiss landed on her lips, one almost too quick to register. “Take your time. I’ll keep him entertained. I might even manage breakfast.” He kissed her a third time before stepping back with clear regret.
Jamie.
Kate jack-knifed upright in bed, the sheet falling away from her naked breasts.
“However, I’m tempted to stay,” he drawled, his gaze dropping fractionally before lifting to her eyes. “Very tempted.”
Heat gathered in her cheeks and Kate fumbled for the sheet, part of her wanting to dive under the covers and hide like a frightened child. This morning-after stuff sucked. With little experience, she wasn’t sure of the correct procedure. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” she said finally.
“I won’t time you.” Lane winked at her and left, a cheerful whistle floating in his wake.
Kate glanced over at the small square package on top of the wooden dressing table. A present? For her? She climbed from the bed and scooped up the package, eager to quench her curiosity. The shiny red ribbon and gold wrapping paper were almost too pretty to rip. Almost. Seconds later, she cradled a small music box in her hands, a lump of emotion making it difficult to breathe.
She flipped the lid open and the strains of Swan Lake filled the room. A lopsided ballerina twirled around and around in never-ending circles. He’d bought the music box from the antique shop. As the final notes played, tears flowed down her face. Emotions, both complex and straightforward, spilled through her. The music box seemed such a simple thing, but it meant more to her than the thousands of dollars she’d poured into her business.
By the time she wandered out to the kitchen, closer to fifteen minutes had elapsed. Thankfully, she had a few undamaged clothes because she’d had them with her for the weekend.
“Morning, Jamie,” she called while she said to Lane in a lower voice, “Thank you for the music box.” Happiness throbbed in her voice. Lane was such an amazing man. The mystery of Jamie’s father and the idea of Lane walking away just didn’t gibe with the man she’d come to know.
“I’m glad you liked it.” His eyes darkened with a hint of passion and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “If you want, you can thank me properly later.”
Oh, she intended to. The thought made her cheeks pinken and brought a touch of apprehension. Her heart was on the line here…
“You slept for a long time,” Jamie said.
Lane handed her a cup of coffee and pushed her into a chair.
“I felt a bit tired.” Well, it was the truth. She ignored the masculine chortle, concentrating on her son instead since it seemed much safer. With nerves simmering low in her belly, Kate screened Jamie’s face for clues about his feelings.
No, nothing untoward there.
Tension seeped from her shoulders and she slumped back in the chair, her mind going in circles. With so much to do today, at least it would help keep her mind off Lane.
“Sorry about breakfast. I need to go shopping. Are you finished with your coffee or do you want to hold it for a bit longer?” Lane asked.
Her hands tightened fractionally on the mug then she placed it on the brown cane coaster. That sounded like amusement in his tone. He obviously didn’t have a problem with the morning after. “I’m finished,” she said. “I was thinking about the mess at the house.”
His wink told her he knew better, but at least he didn’t call her on it.
They stacked the dishes in the dishwasher before leaving. On the short drive to her house, Kate decided the mess couldn’t be as bad as she recalled.
She was wrong.
In the light of day her living room appeared worse, every defect glaringly obvious. The entranceway and passage glowed with colorful splashes of neon paint, the obscene words making her cringe.
“Where do we start?” Lane asked.
“This artwork has to go before my appointments this afternoon. I don’t want any clients frightened away by the graffiti. This is not the impression I want to leave with them.”
“I saw some paint tins in the garden shed,” Jamie said.
Kate frowned. “I don’t think there’s enough to redo the whole hall.”
“Jamie and I will check. If not, we can buy more,” Lane said. “We’ll start painting while you tackle the kitchen. At least it’s paint rather than wallpaper. A coat of paint is easier to apply.”
Kate nodded agreement, knowing the food littering the kitchen floor would spoil rapidly in the unseasonable heat of the last few days. Leaving Lane and Jamie to fix the walls, she collected her gumboots from the garden shed and padded through to the kitchen, enthusiasm for the cleaning chore receding as she surveyed the chaos.
Jars and partial containers of food lay on the floor. The contents had dribbled out and combined until the floor resembled a giant mixing bowl. Flour, jam, golden syrup, dishwashing liquid not to mention squashed fruit and vegetables covered most of the tiled floor. The vandal had even taken the time to open her stock of tinned goods before decorating the pile of discarded food with her manual tin opener.
“Kate, Jamie and I are off to buy paint and some more brushes. Do you want anything?” Lane spoke from the door.
“Something to eat,” she suggested.
“Okay. We’ll be back in about half an hour.”
Sighing, Kate forced herself to make a start. She picked up the larger items and used a garden spade to scoop up the waste, dumping it into the rubbish bags she’d double-layered for strength.
Soon her back ached. She straightened and stretched with a groan, placing one of her hands in the small of her back. She paused to remove her sweatshirt and wiped her perspiring face on the sleeve.
“Slacking on the job?” Lane murmured in amusement from the doorway.
“I hope you have coffee,” she countered, trying to ignore the smug amusement in his gray eyes.
Jamie entered the kitchen bearing a four-cup tray of drinks. Lane held out the distinctive bags of a fast-food restaurant for her approval.
Lane’s left brow tilted upward. “Now if we can find somewhere to sit, we could eat.”
“Yoo-hoo! Anyone home?” a strange voice called.
Kate leapt in fright before an embarrassed laugh emerged. “I’ll get it.” She walked off, leaving Lane and Jamie to start their breakfast.
An elderly woman stood framed in the doorway. Her tortoiseshell glasses glinted in the light.
Kate smiled. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“I understand you’re an aromatherapist,” she said, her voice creaky with age.
Kate smiled at her again. “Yes, I am. Would you like to make an appointment?”
“Yes, I would. Not for me, but for my sister Genevieve. She works in an office and suffers from occupational overuse syndrome—carpal tunnel. It’s her wrists you know.”
“Come in,” Kate said. She stood back and allowed the woman to enter her house.
“Oh, what a terrible mess,” the woman said, her hand fluttering to her chest. Distress shook her voice as she trailed after Kate. “What on earth happened?”
“A break-in over the weekend,” Kate said.
“What a shame! I don’t know what the world is coming to these days. A body isn’t safe in her own home.”
Kate pulled an appointment book from the small desk in her office. “Which days would suit Genevieve best?”
“Tuesday or Wednesday, I think.”
“I’ve had a cancellation for tomorrow.” Kate ran her pencil down the page before looking up at the elderly woman. “I know it’s short notice, but it is a Tuesday. How does three tomorrow afternoon sound?”
“That’s fine,
thank you, dear. The appointment is for Genevieve Weston.”
Kate wrote out an appointment card and handed it to her.
“Kate!” Lane shouted. He called again, sounding closer. “There you are! Jamie and I are… I’m sorry,” he apologized, his full mouth quirking in a charming smile.
The woman gasped for air and staggered without warning. Kate rushed to her aid, but the woman waved her away and groped in her large black tote, producing a puffer. She sucked loudly, dragging in wheezy pants.
“Are you all right?” Kate asked.
“Yes, dear,” the woman forced the words. “A touch of hay fever. Silly really.”
Kate didn’t like the look of the woman’s pale, drawn expression. “I’ll find you a chair so you can sit quietly for a few minutes.”
“No, dear. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure,” Kate said.
The woman waved her away and shuffled out the door.
“I’ll look forward to seeing your sister tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. She hobbled down the concrete path to her white Daewoo.
Kate winced with sympathy as she watched each slow and laborious step. “Did you want something?” she asked Lane.
“Yeah. We’re ready to start painting. Does Jamie have some old clothes he can wear?”
* * * * *
“What’s your program for today?” Lane asked Kate the next day when she joined him at the breakfast table.
Kate gave an inelegant snort and ticked the items off on her fingers one by one. “Finish cleaning the house, my day’s appointments. I want to ring Gerald’s mother to see if she has heard from him. Check with the police to see if they have caught the vandal. Shall I go on?”
Lane bent forward and grasped her shoulders, planting a lingering kiss on startled lips. He took his time and when he raised his head at last, his pewter-gray eyes sparkled with good humor.
The humorous glint changed to liquid warmth as if he knew the heat of his lips had turned her limbs to a jellified state. Lucky she was sitting. She looked away and self-consciously back again when she heard his sigh. Kate licked her lips, savoring the masculine taste of him lingering from his kiss.
Lane spoke. She watched his lips move without comprehending much of what he said. His smile turned knowing but appeared tender at the same time. “Kate,” he repeated, his gray eyes darkening to slate. “What’s Jamie going to do today?”
“Huh?” Kate shook herself. “Jamie?”
This time his grin appeared pure devil. “Yes, Jamie. What are you doing with Jamie?” He didn’t wait for her reply but lowered his head, his intention of repeating the kiss written all over his face.
Kate gasped. “Lane, what about Jamie? He might see us.” Kate checked her son, but he remained engrossed in the cartoons.
“He needs to get used to seeing us together.” Lane’s face broadcast clear intent. Determination to pursue her.
“I thought you were only interested in a warm bed,” she blurted, confusion loosening her tongue. Yes, it was true she’d stared to think of more but Kate tried to keep a lid on her emotions, wanting to tread with caution.
“You thought I only wanted a bed-warmer?”
She nodded.
“You’re partly right,” he admitted with a sly smirk. His humor subsided. “One day I want to hear about the man who destroyed your confidence and trust.”
The tender gaze dragged the words from her before she could marshal any defenses. “Steve,” she said. “I lived with him for nearly a year. We were engaged. At first, I was very happy. We both were, but he became insanely jealous of any other man who spoke to me, no matter how innocent the meeting.” She lowered her eyes to concentrate on the hands clasped in her lap. “He beat me.” A wave of fear jolted her, leaving her both unsettled and anxious. Would Lane understand, or would he mock the perceived weakness in her? Other people had difficulty understanding why she’d stayed in an abusive relationship for so long. Sometimes, she didn’t understand herself.
“Kate,” Lane murmured, squeezing her hand in silent compassion.
“At first he begged for forgiveness and promised he’d never hit me again. I believed him. For a time he kept his promise, but one day Gerald visited me. I’d known Gerald for years since he was friendly with Nicole. We went to the same school. I liked him.”
“What happened?”
“Steve arrived home. He acted polite, friendly even, but as soon as Gerald left, he went berserk. He beat me so badly I had to go to the hospital for treatment. A social worker came to see me and after talking to her, I decided to press charges. I haven’t seen Steve since the court case.”
“Where was Nicole? Couldn’t she have helped you?”
“Steve didn’t like me to visit Nicole so we didn’t see each other often. As it turned out, Nicole had her own problems.”
“Hell, Kate. The way I thumped on your door that first day it’s a wonder you gave me a chance.”
“I like to think I’ve grown since Steve. I was younger and naïve. Anytime I find myself in a similar position, I let the person know I find their behavior unacceptable. Or at least I try to.”
“But—”
“Did you notice I did as much shouting as you?” she asked with a slight grin. “I know you’re bigger than me, but you were in control of your temper. I could sense that. I’m fine now,” she said with pride. Most of the time.
“So there’s hope for me?”
“Let’s take one day at the time and see what happens,” Kate said after a brief pause. Even though her heart cried “yes”, she intended to proceed slowly. She couldn’t do anything else. His intent gaze sliced through her, bringing a tingling awareness of her own body. She wanted the same as him, but she needed to be certain. No room for doubts. She had to consider Jamie and his needs first.
“Okay,” Lane said. “But for the record, I’m very clear on my wants.” His gaze lingered on her lips for an instant before returning to her eyes. The heated promise sent a surge of physical awareness zinging through her veins. Her breasts were suddenly heavy with need, her nipples brushing against lacy cups and raising her arousal.
The closing credits of The Flintstones sounded from the next room.
“Jamie will have to wait at home with me today. I have clients spaced through the day. With all the damage the vandal caused, I can’t afford to cancel them.”
“You said you were insured.”
Kate sighed. “I am, but costs have increased so much, I’ll only be able to replace the necessities.”
“I could give you the money.”
“I don’t want to take money from you.” She shrugged away the instinctive snappy reply and said merely, “Call it pride.”
“I’d call it pigheadedness myself.”
Kate gasped, wanting to fiercely refute his statement. He was the one who’d accused her of chasing his money. No matter how often he apologized for those hasty words, they remained imprinted at the back of her mind.
“Are you going to keep holding my hasty words against me?”
Frightening how he read her mind at times. She scowled, but Lane forestalled an explosion by changing the subject.
“You can cross Detective Harwood off your list. She rang earlier while you were in the shower. The elderly lady who lives in the house backing your section saw two men loitering on Saturday afternoon.”
“Why didn’t she call the police?” Kate demanded.
“Evidently, they were only there for a short time before they disappeared. Your neighbor assumed they were friends and had left when they found you weren’t at home.”
“They disappeared all right—into my house. It must have taken ages to do the damage they did. Didn’t any of the neighbors see anything? Hear anything?”
Lane refilled his coffee cup and took a leisurely sip. “The neighbor who lives opposite thought she saw a man late on Saturday night but neither of your neighbors could give detailed descriptions. We don’t kno
w for sure if the men were the vandals.”
“I don’t know why, but after considering the way most of my clothes were shredded, it made me think a woman had done it. The attack on my clothes seemed, I don’t know, almost…frenzied.”
“Chances are it was one of the men your neighbors saw, but you’re right about your bedroom. I didn’t like the look of your bed. I don’t know what happened to it.”
“I’m afraid to speculate,” Kate said wryly, recalling the nasty stains on the mattress and bedding. “Did Detective Harwood think they’d have a chance of catching whoever broke in?”
“She said they lifted several clear prints from the kitchen.”
“A fat lot of use,” Kate scoffed. “They’d only have a record of the prints if the person has been charged for something else.”
Lane held his hands above his head. “I’m only the messenger.”
“Sorry.”
“There was something else we needed to discuss.”
Kate didn’t like the way he said that. “What?”
Lane shoved the paper toward her. “A reporter caught Jamie and me while we were out shopping for paint yesterday. We’re on the front page.”
Kate threw her hands up in disgusted resignation. “And I thought things couldn’t get worse.”
“I’ll speak to Caryn this morning. We can issue our statement later today.”
She leapt from her seat, still disturbed at the idea of releasing private details. “What will we say? Still the same as we’d planned?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Lane thought for a moment. “How about this? A short announcement stating we’re friends and intend to raise Jamie together.”
“Will that be enough for the reporters?”
“I hope so. They may demand more, but I don’t think we should give them too much detail. Caryn’s used to dealing with the press. It’s her job.”
The noise from the television ceased and Jamie appeared. “Are we going to clean the house again today?” His face told the story. The novelty had worn thin.
“Afraid so, Jamie,” Kate said.
Lane pushed to his feet. “Jamie could come with me this morning,” he said.
Kate held her breath, hoping Jamie would accept Lane’s tentative offer.
Playing to Win Page 19
