by Cathie Linz
“You know what I need?”
“To get rid of your horse.”
“No.”
“Just get him out of the way for a while.”
“No.”
“For me to kiss you right here?” He pressed his lips against the hollow in her throat.
“No.” She suddenly sat up almost dislodging him. “I need to go home. To my condo. And I need you to take me there.”
His smile was downright wolfish, his green eyes gleaming with anticipation. “You’re inviting me to your place? To continue this?”
“No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. I meant that if we’re all going out to dinner tonight then I do need to get organized and get ready.”
“And get away from your parents. Hey, I can understand that. Do you need a lift?”
“I rode my horse here, remember?”
“I meant from your parents’ to your place in the city. Since your car is out of commission.”
She nodded. “I’d appreciate a lift, thanks.”
“Great. Then be prepared to embark at 1600 hours.”
“What?”
“Be ready to leave by four. I’ll pick you up at your parents’ place in the truck. Or I could drive the RV if you really want to drive your folks nuts.”
“I don’t want to drive them nuts, I just want them to accept me the way I am.”
Despite the fact that Striker didn’t pick her up in the RV, her mother was still disapproving as she looked out the window to where Striker was just pulling up. “I think you’re spending entirely too much time with that Marine.”
“He’s Hank’s grandson,” Jack pointed out.
“He’s a Marine.”
“A very rich one.”
“I don’t understand why we have to have dinner with these people,” Elizabeth said.
“And I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset about this,” Jack countered, giving his wife a disapproving look.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Fine. Then stay home. I’ll go without you.”
His words clearly surprised Elizabeth.
“Go ahead,” Jack told Kate. “Don’t keep Striker waiting for you. I’ll see you at the restaurant tonight. Call me when you get back to your condo,” he added. “Just so I know you got home okay.”
Kate was touched that her father was concerned about her safety. Until he added, “We can discuss that Harper Enterprises file you took home with you.”
“It’s always about work with you, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned for your daughter’s well-being?”
“Of course I am. That’s why I told her to call me. Besides, I know she’s safe with Striker.”
“How do you know that?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Because he’s a Marine. He’s trained to handle all kinds of situations.”
Kate had rarely seen her parents argue. They’d always been in perfect accord about their goals and expectations. She was totally unprepared as to how to handle this situation. Except to make her escape.
“You lit out of there as if your hair was on fire, to quote Tex,” Striker noted as he held the passenger door open for her. “What’s going on?”
“My parents are still arguing. They never argue.”
“Same here. Well, that’s not exactly true. My parents are human, they argue about things sometimes. But I’ve never seen them acting so weird.”
For the first time she noticed that Striker was already dressed for dinner. He was wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a black leather bola tie. Glancing down at his attire, he grinned. “I was tempted to wear one of my Hawaiian shirts tonight just to see if anyone was paying attention.”
“I’m paying attention,” Kate said. “You look very nice.”
“I figured it was stupid to drive all the way back here to change and then drive back into the city again. I thought I’d wait while you do whatever you need to do to get ready and then I’ll come take you to the restaurant. I don’t have to wait at your place if you don’t want me to. I can take a walk or something. No big deal.”
It was a big deal. She didn’t often have men come over to her place. It was her sanctuary. She usually met them on neutral ground.
And since her father’s heart attack, she’d really been consumed with work, doing everything she could to get her dad back on his feet again. There hadn’t been much time to devote to a personal life.
Not that she’d planned it that way. Somehow the time had just slipped by, going by so quickly that it was a little disconcerting.
Objection, Your Honor. The witness is thinking too much.
“You’re welcome to wait at my place while I change,” Kate said.
“I’d give you that old line about not changing too much, that I like you the way you are, but I realize you deserve better than that. Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything suitably impressive at the moment.”
“You? At a loss for words? That has to be a first.”
“You’ve left me speechless several times, Kate.”
“Is that a bad or a good thing?”
“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”
“I guess we will.”
It reassured her somehow that Striker was no more certain of what was happening between them than she was. But he seemed willing to pursue it.
During the drive, they talked about King Oil and the changes he’d already set in place. Kate heard the excitement in his voice and was thrilled by it.
Just as she’d hoped, Striker was enjoying the work, whether he admitted it or not. And he was good at it. He had the ability to inspire confidence in others. That was only one of his leadership abilities.
Their conversation made the trip into the city go by quickly. Kate’s condo was located downtown, not too far from the River Walk. Instead of going for one of the high-rise condos, she’d selected a loft in an older, recently renovated building. The carved stone over the doorway and wrought iron around the windows were indications of a time when European craftspeople immigrated to San Antonio.
Kate loved the intricate woodwork in her loft as well as the light flowing in from the big windows. The pine floor had a wonderful glow to it when the sun hit it. She didn’t have a lot of furniture yet—a big comfy couch with rounded arms, two chairs that she’d found at an antique store and had slipcovered and a handmade pine coffee table. Her TV and stereo were hidden behind an intricately carved cupboard. Her CDs were stored in what had once been a card-catalog cabinet in a library.
“Nice place,” Striker said.
“Thanks.” She’d taken great pleasure in decorating it herself. She’d wanted something that reflected her tastes—a place where she could feel comfortable, where everything was meant to be touched, used and enjoyed. The paintings on the walls all had personal meaning for her, from the large watercolor of mountains done by a professional artist friend of hers to the small oil painting of Texas wildflowers that she’d picked up at the Starving Artists Show along the River Walk last year.
Maybe that’s why she was so particular about whom she invited into her private domain. Because it revealed things about her, about her likes, about the importance of creature comforts without ostentatiousness.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Well, then. I guess I’ll go get ready.”
Kate climbed the stairs leading to the upper level where the master suite was located. The focal point of her bedroom was the carved and painted Victorian bed that she’d spotted in a shop window. She’d piled beautiful ecru and rose pillows on the floral comforter, creating a romantic oasis. An ivory ceramic chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The bedroom was protected from view by a series of hand-painted screens that picked up the ivory-and-rose color scheme.
She used the phone on her bedside table to call her dad and assure him she was home, before adding th
at she didn’t have time to talk about the Harper file. She hung up before her father could protest too much.
As she disrobed in preparation for hopping into the shower, the realization that she was standing naked upstairs while Striker was right downstairs was more than a little disconcerting. Afterward, she quickly dressed in the still-steamy bathroom.
Kate had grabbed the first suitable outfit from her closet, a matching skirt and top in a body-hugging stretch jersey material. The burgundy color was a favorite of hers. The flattering gathers at the V-neck collar showed off her liquid silver-and-turquoise necklace. She added a wide, black leather belt with a silver buckle to complete the look.
Since they were walking the several blocks to the restaurant, she chose a comfortable pair of black leather boots instead of the strappy black high heels she often paired with this outfit. The slit in the skirt revealed a generous amount of her tanned leg each time she took a step.
She lifted her hair away from her face with two silver hair clips that matched the scrolled design on her belt. Her eye shadow and lipstick were in earthen shades and gave her a more seductive look somehow. Or maybe that was due to the fact that she was thinking about Striker.
He’d made himself comfortable on her denim couch and was paging through a coffee table book she had on the Alamo.
His gaze lifted the moment she entered the room and he immediately rose to his feet. His eyes didn’t sweep over her body, they roamed from her head to the tips of her boots and back up again. He was eyeing her with unmistakable appreciation and passion. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
He took a few steps closer, so that he could reach out with his index finger to gently touch the necklace nestled at the base of her throat. Slivers of excitement shot through her body. “You wore this to the barbecue yesterday. Did someone special give it to you?”
She nodded.
He expression turned brooding as his hand dropped to his side.
“It was a gift from me to me,” she said.
His slow smile warmed her heart. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Then, because Kate was unaccustomed to being the subject of such intensely sensual attention, she glanced down at the book he’d been studying. “Have you been to the Alamo yet?”
Striker shook his head. “I haven’t had the time. There’s this slave driver of a lady lawyer who never gives me a moment’s peace.”
“Well, she’s offering to show you the Alamo tonight. It’s on our way and we’ve got time if we leave now. Come on.” She slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and tugged him toward the door.
Striker found he liked being led by a laughing Kate as she proudly began reciting information about the cradle of Texas liberty. All he knew about it had been learned from the John Wayne movie he’d caught on a classic-movie cable station once.
“It was actually the first of several missions that Spanish friars established along the river in the early 1700s.” He listened as she told him about the battle between Mexicans and Texas settlers in 1836. Santa Anna’s troops had greatly outnumbered the Americans. Over 180 died, including Davy Crockett and James Bowie. “There’s some speculation that the men could possibly have escaped, slipped away in the night. But they didn’t. Instead they stayed and fought to the death.”
Striker could understand that. Sometimes the price of freedom was high.
As he stood before the golden limestone face, he recognized that this was a place that stood for something. The nicked, weathered walls retained the spirit of the battle that had taken place there—the lives lost, the future changed. He could almost hear the echo of cannons from the distant past.
Kate didn’t speak as she walked through the mission chapel with him. There wasn’t any need for words. They simply shared the experience.
They passed the gift shop on their way out. “The Alamo doesn’t get any federal funds. The Daughters of the Republic of Texas, whose members trace their lineage back to the original citizens of the republic, manage it,” she said. “No fees are charged to visitors.”
“Where do they get the money to maintain it?”
“From sales at the gift shop, donations and fund-raising events.”
Before leaving, Striker put a sizable amount in one of the donation boxes. From one warrior to so many others who’d died.
They crossed the Alamo Plaza and headed for the River Walk. Striker held her hand, as he had since they’d left her loft.
Kate was both humbled and exhilarated by the joy to be had from the simple contact. From time to time he’d run his thumb over the back of her fingers as if wanting to tell her how much he enjoyed touching her.
“This is nice,” he murmured.
She thought he was referring to the River Walk, which was indeed the pride and joy of the city. “If you think it’s nice now, you should see it during the holiday season, when they decorate all these trees with lights.”
“I meant us. This.” He lifted their entwined hands.
Nice was much too pedestrian a word for it. Incredible came a little closer. Not knowing what to say, she stayed silent.
“What?” he teased her. “No quick comeback from the lady lawyer?”
“The lady lawyer has the night off.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
They shared a smile in the midst of the crowd. Couples and families mingled as they moved along the cobblestone walkways that ran beside the waterway or walked over the quaint bridges that crossed over it. Some stopped to read the menu of one of the many sidewalk cafés, while others paused to view the goods offered by the variety of specialty shops. Barges filled with tourists floated by. No one was in a hurry.
The predicted storms hadn’t developed, but instead a cooling breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. The weather front was moving through without any further mayhem other than a chilling shift in the wind.
Kate tugged the shawl a little tighter around her shoulders.
Striker noticed her actions. “Are you cold?” Without waiting for an answer, he placed his arm around her and gently tugged her closer. “There. Is that better?”
Kate nodded. It was heaven. Or as close to it as she’d ever been.
Every time she was with Striker, it got better. There were so many layers she was discovering, from that explosive first kiss in the King Oil headquarters to the heated embrace in the storm cellar to the flirtatious fun by the pond. And now this new dimension. The simple but deeply satisfying pleasure of his arm around her as they walked along the River Walk.
Both their parents were already seated at the restaurant by the time Kate and Striker arrived.
Kate could tell that her mother had taken extra care with her appearance. Elizabeth only wore her sapphire heart necklace, the one that Jack had given her for their thirtieth anniversary, when she wanted to make an impression. The black dress was an elegant Donna Karan design. Her blond hair fell in a smooth curtain around her face.
Striker’s mother looked equally lovely in a different way. Not as artificial, more natural. Her short brown hair was a little windblown. She wore no jewelry other than a watch and her gold wedding ring. There was no designer label on her denim dress but it fit her well. Her green eyes were vibrant against her lightly tanned face.
The two men were equally different, with Jack’s expensive Ralph Lauren look versus Stan’s simple black pants and white shirt.
Striker held Kate’s chair out for her, seating her before sitting down himself. Chips and salsa were already at the table. After checking with her, Striker ordered a margarita for Kate and a beer for himself.
The male jockeying for dominant alpha position between Jack and Stan began right off the bat with ordering the meal.
“I recommend the chicken enchiladas verdes, Angela,” Jack said.
“Angela doesn’t like chicken,” Stan said. “We’ll have the steak fajitas.”
“The plates here are the size of Roman battle shields and they fill them up, so you may not
be able to finish it all,” Jack warned.
“I have a big appetite,” Stan replied. “I’m sure I can handle whatever they give me.”
“Really, Jack.” Elizabeth’s voice reflected her displeasure. “I think they can figure out what to order on their own.”
“Ignore them,” Striker leaned close to whisper in Kate’s ear. “Tell me what you like.”
“Wh-what?” He was using that seductive tone, the one that made her insides melt.
“What you like. From the menu.” He pointed to the tri-fold paper she held in front of her.
So he was trying to distract her, was he? Well, two could play at that game. “I could make some suggestions, but I’d need to know how hot you like it.”
He grinned. My, how that changed his face, making him even more sexy. His vivid green eyes sent her secret messages. Did he look at every woman this way? Well, not every woman maybe, but the ones he was interested in flirting with. Or was this special?
Striker wasn’t a smooth ladies’ man, but he had a powerful way about him and a boatload of charm. He also had another side he kept hidden, disguising his inner thoughts and his true emotions well.
No doubt that was due to his work as a Force Recon Marine. She’d already ascertained that trust was something that didn’t come easily for him. The same was true for her.
Yet here they both were, flirting behind the cover of a menu while their parents bickered on the other side of the table.
“How hot do I like it?” Striker repeated her question. “The hotter the better. How about you?”
“I prefer all things in moderation.”
“The problem with being moderate and careful is that you could miss something really good along the way.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their server who took their orders. In the end, Striker had the fajitas while Kate selected a chicken dish with mole sauce.
The food was excellent. The portions were huge. The conversation was competitive and dominated by Jack and Stan as they played a game of verbal one-upmanship that left Kate shaking her head in disbelief.
Kate had never seen her father behave this way before. Sure, he liked weaving a story. And, being a Texan, he liked elaborating on the truth a little. But he’d never gone at it quite this intensely.
