by Kylie Brant
He shifted his foot to the brake and the powerful car responded, tires squealing as he slowed rapidly. There was no more than a foot at each side of the road separating it from the woods, but there were plenty of private drives winding through the trees to houses set well back. He pulled into the first one he saw and just sat for a moment, trying to get his breath. But that seemed impossible.
Opening his door, he stumbled out of the car and leaned weakly against it. The heat that enveloped him left a sheen on his skin, a fine tremor in his limbs. He dropped his hands to his knees and panted raggedly. He’d never experienced an anxiety attack, and since many would swear he didn’t possess nerves, he had never expected to. But something gripped him right now and was threatening to rob him of every reasonable response.
Get ahold of yourself, he ordered mentally, his breath coming in huge gulps. The thing to do in a crisis was focus. Focus. He forced his lungs to work more rhythmically by sheer, fierce will. He pushed feelings aside; they screwed everything up, anyway. If this was, in fact, a business deal, before he’d cut his losses he’d tally up pros and cons and weigh them both carefully.
Yeah. The breath billowed out of him in one long stream of air. Already the mental ledger was flipping open in his head, eager for the application of logic and cool, calculated reason. Kate or no Kate? Which represented the greater risk?
She was intriguing, yes. She’d intrigued him from the start. Chalk one up for the pro side of the ledger. But intriguing was just a stone’s throw from maddening, wasn’t it? The woman threw him more curves than the Orioles’s starting pitcher. Confusing definitely settled on the con side.
The businesslike tallying was soothing, and he straightened weakly, leaning against the car. On the pro side he’d definitely have to add gorgeous. Sexy. Loved kids. Got along great with Chloe. And Chloe thought Kate was wonderful, as well. But Kate sure didn’t trust easily and was prickly as an irritated porcupine about her independence. Add those to the opposite side.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a measure of normalcy returning. This was where he’d erred to begin with, when he’d strayed too far from profit-and-loss analysis. Personal relationships should function more like those in business, he reflected. It made everything far more practical and eliminated hormone-laden decision making. Not that hormones weren’t important in a personal relationship; his sure responded each time he was near Kate. Another positive. And he genuinely liked her. Respected her. Cared about her. He circled around that admission, deemed it safe. He even cared…deeply. He only wished she was as straightforward about her emotions, he thought self-righteously. If she confronted them head-on, as he had, maybe she’d stop throwing up roadblocks every time he got too close.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he still had far more to gain by proceeding with his plans regarding Kate than by bowing out. And if he was truthful with himself, it was what he wanted. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to settle into a life with her, one that would be rich and fulfilling for both of them. He wanted to make a family with her and Chloe. That hadn’t changed.
Ice-edged panic glided up his spine and curved painfully across his heart. After the scene tonight, she was lost to him as surely as if she’d been removed from this planet. She might have seemed confused, but she’d left no room for doubt as to what she’d wanted. Him gone. If he’d brought about that response by telling her he cared about her, he would terrify her if he mentioned marriage.
He swallowed hard as the nerves threatened to punch through him again. All he had to do was stick to his original plan. Marriage would come at the culmination of a relationship filled with mutual affection, respect, trust and damn good sex. It would happen, if he didn’t allow himself to go haywire with emotion.
Air trickled back into his lungs, and with it came resolve. He’d messed up tonight, primarily because he didn’t understand Kate well enough yet to predict how his actions would affect her. His first mistake had been in not forcing her to tell him what was behind her fierce need for independence. His second mistake had been leaving her in the first place. Determination had him turning to get back in the car.
He switched on the ignition and backed out of the driveway, heading for the city. He wouldn’t make the same error twice tonight. And this time, he vowed, he was going to show a measure of the finesse he was capable of. Somehow he’d make her understand. And accept.
He reached for his car phone and dialed her number. Impatiently, he waited through five rings before she answered. Not bothering with a greeting, he said shortly, “It’s me. Don’t hang up. I’m coming over again, and I want to talk to you.” Her weary protest had his lips firming. “I’ll be there, Kate. And you’ll either open the door, or I’ll shout what I have to say for the whole neighborhood to hear.” The crashing of the receiver in his ear signaled her displeasure. He flipped the phone off and pressed more firmly on the accelerator. He had about twenty minutes to come up with a way to persuade her to give him another chance. He kept the gnawing fear at bay by refusing to contemplate failure.
The single light above her porch was glowing, and a relieved breath escaped him at the sight. She was up, and she was going to let him in. That was a start. He hadn’t relished playing this scene out for the entertainment of her neighbors.
He bounded out of the car and up her walk, wiping his palms on his pant legs. Hesitating on her porch, he took a moment to marshall his arguments, but the door swung open, robbing him of that small advantage.
Kate glared at him with sullen defiance. His gaze feasted on her hungrily. She had obviously showered; her hair was still half-wet and drying in riotous curls down her back. She was barefoot and clad in a white terry cloth robe. She backed away to let him enter, then turned and walked into the living room, sinking onto the couch.
Michael paused awkwardly before following her. Somehow, in the face of her stubborn silence, his carefully rehearsed persuasiveness was fading away. He battled to hang on to the unnatural calm that had settled over him on the way here. If he gave in to the pendulum of panic and despair that had enveloped him on the way home, he was lost.
“Thanks for seeing me.”
Her brow arched. “Well, you didn’t leave me with much of a choice, did you?”
He swallowed around the knot in his throat. This wasn’t starting out promisingly. “No,” he admitted. “It was important that I see you again tonight. Too important to wait.”
Her eyes flashed, and he knew he’d misjudged the depth of her resentment. “Important to whom? Ah, yes. To Michael. The only one whose wishes count.”
Because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with them, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “Believe me, Kate, I didn’t come here to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, I don’t believe you did,” she said coolly. After the barest of pauses, she added, “I think you came because I was right earlier.”
He eyed her blankly.
“When I said you needed to be in control. That’s what this is about, Michael, and you can deny it all you want. It doesn’t make the truth go away.” She shot from the couch like a tightly coiled spring to pace in the small area of the room. “You call and say you’re coming, so naturally I’m expected to let you in. That’s the way you planned it, isn’t it?” Her eyes were sheets of blue lightning. “You’re very good at getting your way.”
“Control seems to be a big issue with you.” It took effort to keep his voice even. “Why don’t you tell me what’s behind that? Or should I be asking who’s behind it?”
Her expression froze and she stopped in her tracks, her eyes huge and haunted. For an instant he thought she would crumple, and his muscles bunched, ready to spring to her aid. Then slowly, visibly, she straightened and tucked that momentary weakness back out of sight. “My father used power in lieu of emotion.” Her voice was void of inflection. “He dictated everything we ate, where we went, how we wore our hair, how we spent our time. We could barely breathe in that house without checking w
ith him first. Going away to college was the first decision I ever made on my own, and he’s never forgiven me for doing so without his permission. I’m not allowed to spend time alone with my youngest siblings. He’s afraid they’ll pick up notions of independence the way you pick up a virus. I think I understand the reason he is the way he is. But that doesn’t mean I respect him.”
The last words sounded as though they had been ripped out of her, leaving a jagged wake of pain. He was sure they had. He knew too well that resentment could be a double-edged sword. The need to comfort, to explain was instinctive.
“My actions were motivated with the emotion your father lacked. Caring, Kate. Not control. Maybe that doesn’t make it okay, but I’d like to think if you’d ever shared any of this with me before that I would have acted differently.”
She just stared at him, those deep blue eyes giving no hint of her thoughts. Desperation leaked in through the cracks of the careful shore of confidence he’d rebuilt on the way over. “All I’m asking is that you trust me, just a little. Just enough to give me the benefit of the doubt when I say I would never do anything to hurt you. Enough to believe me when I say I don’t want to control you or make you unhappy. Hell, I want to marry you.”
He watched the shocked dismay flood across her face with chagrin, and if he could have reached his own butt, he’d have kicked it. Blurting it out like that wasn’t the wisest move he’d ever made, but he was rapidly finding that wisdom wasn’t always a conscious choice. So much for well-laid plans.
Kate actually swayed under the impact of his words, and her face went as white as the terry cloth. She brushed at the hair that tumbled over her shoulder with a hand that trembled visibly. Her reaction did nothing to relieve the tightness in his chest.
“Marriage,” she echoed bleakly. The hollow shock in her eyes had talons of fear clawing through his gut, piercing deep. She shook her head slightly, as if to clear it, and reached a blind, searching hand behind her for the sofa. She dropped onto it as if her legs had suddenly given out. “Michael, this isn’t what I meant by keeping it simple. Marriage.” She took a deep breath and released it. “This isn’t simple at all.”
Because he couldn’t stand the distance between them for another instant, he crossed the room and sank down beside her. “God knows I’ve messed this up,” he murmured, as much to himself as to her. He reached down for her hand and measured his palm against hers. “Just tell me you’ll think about it. Think about us. We could have it all, Kate.” He linked their fingers, watched her intently as her gaze slowly rose to his. “We could be a family. You, me, Chloe and as many more kids as you want.” Her eyes flickered at his words, and he allowed himself to take hope from the tiny sign of emotion. “I told you I cared about you, and I know you feel the same way about me.” Still she was silent, and he urged, “You do, don’t you?”
She nodded jerkily without releasing his gaze. Relief slid like a balm over his nerves. His free hand rubbed soothingly up her arm, then cruised down again in a repetitive, rhythmic motion. “What do you say we let the past stay there. In the past. The present is ours, yours and mine. I’ll give you all the time you need to decide what you want in your future. No pressure, no strings.”
She shook her head wearily. “No pressure? What do you call this?”
He released her only to pull her closer, turning her so that her shoulders rested against his torso. In a gesture evocative of comfort rather than desire, he folded his arms around her and hugged her to him. Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he rocked them both slowly.
“Let’s not worry about labels,” he murmured into her hair.
“Let’s just concentrate on each other.”
Michael rose from the table as Jake started replacing papers in folders. “I’ve got everything I need,” the lawyer said. “I’ll get together with Hummels and his attorney myself tomorrow.”
“Make sure he understands this is my final offer,” Michael said.
Jake placed the files in his leather briefcase and snapped the lock shut. “It shouldn’t be much longer. I could tell we had him intrigued when you suggested putting him in charge of research with a generous budget.”
“We were right all along.”
Jake nodded. “He’s definitely got some project in his head that he’s dying to get financing for. And it must be expensive if he couldn’t even count on the cash from marketing the microchip to finance it. He’s still trying to create a loophole, wanting us to sign off on any future projects he’s the sole creator of.”
Michael snorted. “Fat chance. The music has stopped, but he’s still dancing. You can let him know that he has until 5:00 p.m. today to agree. The offer goes down by a million each additional day he delays.”
Jake grinned wolfishly. “I’ll tell him.” As he left the office, he passed Carla Patrie on her way in.
Michael sighed and looked at his watch. He was determined that today would be his last in the office for a while. But taking care of loose ends had already cost him most of the day. His frustration only partially stemmed from that fact, however. It had been too damn long since he’d heard from Kate, approximately fifty-eight hours and counting, as a matter of fact. When he’d left her at dawn the other morning, she’d avoided his eyes but had promised to contact him later. He’d agreed, noting the relief flickering across her face when he hadn’t argued.
He’d promised her some time without pressure. And there was too much at stake for him to push, even a little. But that didn’t make the waiting any easier. And although he’d felt a measure of confidence return at the way she’d allowed him to hold her throughout the night, the panic and fear were merely held in check for the moment. Kate hadn’t given him any indication of what her response to his proposal would be. He didn’t dare take her answer for granted.
“Don’t scowl so, Michael, this really won’t take long,” Carla said. She strolled to the table with a studied grace. Her bright red suit was perfectly matched by the polish on her long nails. Her black hair was cut so it just barely grazed her shoulders. When she passed him, she trailed an expensive, musky perfume that was designed to raise a man’s blood pressure.
It left Michael unmoved. It couldn’t compare to the punch-in-the-gut scent Kate wore, one that had more to do with her own essence than any manufactured aroma. There was nothing about Carla that could compare to Kate in any way. Carla was savvy and tough, and she exuded ambition and brains. He’d hired her for the second quality, forgiven her for the first. She dropped the sheaf of papers she was holding on the table.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I’ve finalized the plans for the most comprehensive marketing strategy this company has ever seen,” she said smugly.
“For the home computer security system Derek completed?”
“None other. That little system, Michael, is about to take programming America by storm. I mean, I’ve planned the works. Television, radio, software magazine advertising…not to mention hiring Jerome Livingston, the Madison Avenue advertising guru.”
As he quickly scanned the outline she’d placed before him, his eyebrows climbed. “This plan of yours is going to take our budget by storm, too.”
“You have to be willing to invest in advertising your project if you want to get maximum return.”
“Have you run these numbers by Dennison in accounting?” he questioned.
She shook her head impatiently. “The man has no vision, Michael.”
“He’s not supposed to have vision,” he answered wryly.
“He’s a numbers man.” He listened as she gave her pitch again, then read through the papers more carefully. Finally he halted her in the midst of her spiel. “Go see Dennison. Tell him I’ll authorize a ten percent higher advertising budget on this project. Anything over that, and I mean a penny over, will have to be approved by me personally.”
Carla looked triumphant as she gathered the papers together. “Smart move, Michael. We’re going to make you rich.” She stac
ked the papers into a pile and then tapped them with a flaming nail. “Actually, I’ve got a suggestion that will save you some money.”
Michael cocked a brow. “Do tell.”
She leaned forward, crossing her leg and showing a smooth expanse of thigh. “The open house we have planned to coincide with the marketing blitz? Rather than spending a mint on renting a place with the right atmosphere, why don’t you consider having it at your home?”
He blinked. “At my place?”
Carla pressed her advantage. “Sure, why not? I hear it’s fabulous, and with all the newspaper and software magazine execs invited, it will give the publicity a more personal angle.”
“I realize you’ve never seen my home, Carla, or you’d never have suggested this.”
She frowned at his lack of enthusiasm. “No, I haven’t, but from what I’ve heard, it’s certainly spacious enough.”
“Oh, space is one thing it has plenty of,” he agreed ironically. “The thing that’s missing is furniture.” When she looked blank, he continued. “It doesn’t have any. Or not much.”
Carla shrugged. “Well, that’s not a problem. You’ve got three weeks before the open house is scheduled. Get a decorator.”
“Why is this so important to you?” he quizzed. Carla didn’t reply, but her fingernail tapped faster. A slow smile crossed his face. “You couldn’t book a place for the open house, is that it?”
Raising her chin, she snapped, “We’re on a tight schedule, Michael, and it is the wedding season. All the appropriate places were taken months ago. If you hadn’t stonewalled me for so long about setting a date for the program’s completion—”
His hand went to his chest in a gesture of innocence. “You’re going to blame this on me?”
“It’s not as if I couldn’t find something,” she said smoothly, “but why settle for less than what we need when the perfect solution is right in front of us? Really, Michael, you couldn’t get better publicity if you tried.”
He looked at her, mulling the idea over. He’d tightened security at the house even more when he started working on FORAY there. With the additional precautions he’d taken, he was actually in a better position to do as Carla asked.
