September Morning

by Diana Palmer

  He made a mock pose. “No girl exposes my naked ankles,” he scoffed. “You're on!”

  Kathryn led them out the door, tugging her green velveteen blouse down over her trim hips as she went, delighting in its warmth in the chill morning air. “It's nippy out here,” she murmured. Her slender hand went up to test the strength of the pins that held the coiled rope of hair in place on top of her head. The wind was brisk, invigorating.

  “Nice and cool,” Phillip agreed. “Strange how Blake's run out of time to ride,” he mentioned with a curious glance at Kathryn. “He's literally worked every minute he's been home. And with the Leedses arriving Saturday, he's going to be lucky if he can manage time to pick them up at the airport.”

  “Fighting again?” Nan probed, shooting a glance at Kathryn.

  Kathryn lifted her head and watched the path in front of her as they took the old shortcut to the big barn, with its white-fenced paddocks. The path led through a maze of high, clipped hedges, in the center of which was a white gazebo, carefully concealed, and ringed all the way around with comfortable cushions. Kathryn had always thought it a wildly romantic setting, and her imagination ran riot every time she saw it.

  “Blake and I are getting along just fine,” she said, denying her friend's teasing accusation.

  “Nothing easier,” Phillip agreed with a grin. “They never see each other.”

  “We do,” Kathryn disagreed. “Remember the other night when Blake was going out on that date?”

  Nan glanced up at Phillip. “Who's he after now?” She laughed.

  Phillip shrugged fatalistically. “Who knows? I think it's the little blonde he's got in the office. His new secretary, if office gossip can be believed. But I hear she can't spell cat.”

  “Blake likes blondes, all right.” Kathryn laughed with an amusement that she was far from feeling.

  “Here's one he sure avoids,” Nan groaned. “What's wrong with me?”

  Phillip threw an avuncular arm across her shoulders. “Your age, my dear,” he informed her. “Blake likes his women mature, sophisticated and thoroughly immoral. That leaves you out of the running.”

  Nan sighed miserably. “I always have been.”

  “Blake used to pick us up after cheerleading practice, remember,” Kathryn said, eyeing the gazebo longingly as they passed it. “He still thinks of us chewing bubble gum and giggling.”

  “I hate bubble gum,” Nan pouted.

  “So do I,” Phillip agreed. “It leaves a bad…well, hello,” he broke off, grinning at Blake.

  The older man stopped in their path, dressed in a sophisticated gray business suit, with a spotless white silk shirt and a patterned tie. He looked every inch the business magnate, polished and dignified.

  “Good morning,” Blake said coolly. He smiled at Nan. “How's your mother?”

  “Just fine, Blake,” Nan sighed, going close to catch his arm in her slender fingers. “Don't you have time to go riding with us?”

  “I wish I did, little one,” he told her. “But I'm already late for a conference.”

  Kathryn turned away and started for the barn. “I'm going ahead,” she called over her shoulder. “Last one in the saddle's a greenhorn!”

  She almost ran the rest of the way to the barn, shocked at her own behavior. She felt strange. Sick. Hurt. Empty. The sight of Nan clinging to Blake's arm had set off a rage within her. She'd wanted to slap her friend of many years, just for touching him. She didn't understand herself at all.

  Absently, she went into the tackroom and started getting together bits and bridles and a saddle. She barely noticed when the lithe chestnut gelding was saddled and ready to mount. He pranced nervously, as if he sensed her uneasy mood and was reacting to it.

  Nan joined her as she was leading Sundance out into the bright morning.

  “Where's Phil?” Kathryn asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

  Nan shrugged curiously. “Blake dragged him off to the office for some kind of council of war. At least, that's what it sounded like.” She sighed. “Blake seemed very angry with him.” Her face brightened. “Almost as if he didn't like the idea of Phillip going riding with me. Kate, do you suppose he's jealous?” she asked excitedly.

  “It wouldn't surprise me a bit,” Kathryn lied, remembering Blake's remarks about her friend. But, frowning, she couldn't help wondering if he'd meant it. Why in the world didn't he want Phillip to ride with the girls?

  Kathryn knew that Blake felt Phillip's attitude toward the multi-company enterprise was a little slack sometimes. But why drag him off at this hour of the morning unless…She didn't want to think about it. If Nan was right, she didn't want to know.

  “Get saddled and let's go!” Kathryn called. “I'm itching for a gallop!”

  “Why did you run off back there?” Nan asked before she went into the stable to saddle her mount.

  “Do hurry,” Kathryn said, ignoring the question. “Maude wants me to help her plan some menus for the Leedses’ visit.”

  Nan hurriedly saddled her mount, a little mare with the unlikely name of Whirlwind, and the disposition of a sunny summer day.

  The two girls rode in a companionable silence, and Kathryn gazed lovingly at the rolling green hills in their autumn colors, trees in the distance just beginning to don the soft golds that later would become brilliant oranges and reds and burgundy. The air was clean and fresh, and fields beyond the meadows were already being turned over to wait for spring planting.

  “Isn't it delicious?” Kathryn breathed. “South Carolina must be the most beautiful state in the country.”

  “You only say that because you're a native,” Nan teased.

  “It's true, though.” She reined in and leaned forward, crossing her forearms on the pommel to stare at the silver ribbon of the Edisto River beyond.

  “Do you know how many rice plantations there were in Charleston just before the Civil War?” she murmured, remembering books she'd read about those great plantations with their neat square fields and floodgates.

  “I'm afraid I don't share your passion for history, Kate,” Nan said apologetically. “Sometimes I even forget what year they fought the War of 1812.”

  Kathryn smiled at her friend, and all the resentment drained out of her. After all, Nan couldn't help the way she felt about Blake. It wasn't her fault he was so wickedly attractive…

  “Let's ride down through the woods,” she said abruptly, wheeling Sundance. “I love to smell the river, don't you?”

  “Oh, yes,” Nan agreed. “I'm with you!”

  ***

  Blake was home for dinner that night, an occurrence rare enough to cause comment.

  “Run out of girls?” Phillip teased as they sat around the table nibbling at Mrs. Johnson's chicken casserole.

  “Phillip!” Maude chided, her dark eyes disapproving as she paused in the act of lifting a forkful of chicken to her mouth.

  Blake raised an eyebrow at his brother. His blue-checked sports shirt was open at the neck, and he looked vibrant and rested and dangerously attractive to Kathryn, who was doing her best to keep her eyes away from him.

  “You had more than your share this morning,” Blake remarked dryly.

  “Was that why you dragged me off to the office before I could enjoy being surrounded by them?” Phillip laughed.

  “I needed your support, little brother.”

  “Sure. The way Samson needed a herd of horses to help him tug the pillars down.”

  “I would like to point out,” Maude said gently, “that Mrs. Johnson spent an hour preparing this excellent chicken dish, which is turning to bile in my stomach.”

  Kathryn darted an amused glance at the older woman. “You should have had daughters,” she suggested.

  Maude stared at Blake, then at Phillip. “I'm not sure. It's very hard to picture Blake in spike heels and a petticoat.”

  Kathryn choked on her mashed potatoes, and Phillip had to lean over and thump her on the back.

  “I'm glad Ka
thryn finds something amusing,” Blake said in that cold, curt tone that she hated so much. “She wasn't in the best of humors this morning.”

  Kathryn swallowed a sip of coffee, and her dark green eyes glared at Blake across the table. “I don't remember saying anything to you at all, Blake,” she murmured.

  “No,” he agreed. “You were too busy flouncing off to offer a civil greeting.”

  How could he be so blind? she wondered, but she only glared at him. “Excuse me,” she said haughtily, “but I never flounce.”

  He lifted his coffee cup to his chiseled lips, but his eyes never left Kathryn's face. Something dark and hard in them unnerved her. “Push a little harder, honey,” he challenged quietly.

  Her small frame stiffened. “I'm not afraid of you,” she said with a forced smile.

  His eyes narrowed, and a corner of his mouth went up. “I could teach you to be,” he said.

  “Now, children,” Maude began, her eyes plainly indicating which of the two she was referring to as they glared at Kathryn. “This is the meal hour, remember? Indigestion is bad for the soul.”

  Phillip sighed as he tasted his lemon mousse. “It's never stopped them before,” he muttered.

  Kathryn crumpled her napkin and laid it beside her plate before she got to her feet. “I think I'll play the piano for a while, if no one minds.”

  “Not for too long, dear, you'll keep Blake awake,” Maude cautioned. “Remember, he has to get up at five in the morning to drive down to Charleston to pick up the Leedses at the airport.”

  Kathryn threw a gracious smile in Blake's direction. “Of course,” she said with honey in her voice. “Our elders must have their beauty rest.”

  “By heaven, you're asking for it,” Blake said in a voice that sent chills down her spine.

  “Go, girl!” Phillip said, pushing her in the direction of the living room. He closed the door behind them with an exaggerated sigh and leaned against it. “Whew!” he breathed, and his dark eyes laughed at her when he opened them again. “Don't push your luck, sweet. He's been impossible to get along with for days now, and this morning he made a barracuda look tame.”

  “Doesn't he always?” she grumbled.

  “Yes,” he conceded. “But if you had his secretary, it might give you ulcers as well.”

  She glanced at him as she went to the piano and sat down, flexing her fingers. “If he wants secretaries who decorate instead of type, that's his business. Just hush, Phil, will you? I'm sick of hearing about Blake!”

  She banged away at Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto, while Phillip stared at her profile thoughtfully for a long time.

  Chapter Four

  Maude had the housekeeper, buxom Mrs. Johnson, and the two little daily maids running in circles by late afternoon. It was almost comical, and Kathryn had to force herself not to giggle.

  “Don't put the urn of dried flowers there,” Maude wailed when one of the maids placed it in the entrance to the living room.

  Kathryn decided she had better go outside and keep out of the way.

  Phillip was just getting out of his small sports car as she emerged from the house. He hesitated for an instant when he saw Kathryn coming, then got the rest of the way out and closed the door.

  “What's the matter with you?” he asked cheerfully.

  “It's the dried flowers,” she explained enigmatically.

  Phillip blinked. “Have you been into Blake's whiskey, Kathryn?”

  She shook her head. “You had to be there to understand,” she told him. “Honestly, you'd think the head of state was coming. She's rearranged the furniture twice, and now she's going crazy over flowers. And just think, Phil,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Leeds can't even save the river!”

  He chuckled. “Probably not. Blake should be back soon,” he said, after a glance at his watch.

  Kathryn looked out over the sculptured garden with its cobblestone path leading through hedges to the concealed white gazebo. “I wonder what Miss Leeds looks like?” she murmured thoughtfully.

  “Vivian?” he asked, smiling. “The cover of a fashion magazine. She's an actress, you know, quite well-known already, too.”

  She felt ill. “Old?” she asked.

  “Twenty-five isn't old, sweet.” He laughed. “Blake can't be without a woman for long. He really can pick them.”

  She wanted to hit him. To scream. To do anything but stand there with a calm smile plastered to her face and pretend it didn't matter. Suddenly, terribly, it mattered. Blake was her…She stopped, frowning. Her what?

  “Kathryn, you aren't listening,” Phillip said patiently. “I said, would you like to go into King's Fort with me and buy a new dress or two?”

  She looked up at him. “Whatever for?” she asked indignantly. “I don't dress in rags!”

  “Of course not,” he said, placating her. “But Maude suggested that you might like some new clothes since we're having guests.”

  She drew a deep, angry breath. “Put on my best feathers, you mean?” She thought about it, imagining an outfit daring enough to make even Blake take notice. A tiny smile touched her pink mouth. “All right. Take me someplace expensive. Saks, I think.”

  “Uh, Kathryn…” Phillip said.

  “Blake won't get the bill until next month,” she reminded him. “By then, I can be in St. Martin, or Tahiti, or Paris…”

  He chuckled. “All right, incorrigible girl, come on. We've got to hurry or we won't be here when Blake's guests arrive.”

  Kathryn didn't tell him, but that was just what she had in mind. The idea of greeting Vivian Leeds made her want to spend several days in town. She disliked the woman already, and she hadn't even met her.

  ***

  She left Phillip in a small, exotic coffee shop on the mall while she floated through the plush women's department in the exclusive shop, dreaming of Blake seeing her in one expensive dress after another. She'd show him! She'd be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she'd make him stand back and take notice!

  But when she tried on one of the elegant dresses she'd picked out, all she saw in the mirror was a little girl trying to play dress-up. She looked about fifteen. All the excitement drained out of her face. Her whole body seemed to slump as she stared at her reflection.

  “It doesn't suit you, does it?” the pleasant blond saleswoman asked her.

  Kathryn shook her head sadly. “It looked so beautiful on the model…”

  “Because it was designed for a taller, thinner figure than yours,” the statuesque older woman explained. “If I may suggest some styles…?”

  “Oh, please!” Kathryn said, wide-eyed.

  “Wait here.”

  The three dresses the woman brought back looked far less dramatic than those Kathryn had picked out. They were simple garments with no frills at all, and the colors were pale pastels—mint, taupe and a silky beige. But on Kathryn, they came to life. Combined with her black hair and green eyes, the mint was devastating. The taupe emphasized her rounded figure and darkened her eyes. The beige brought out her soft complexion and its simple lines gave her an elegance far beyond her years.

  “And this is for evening,” the woman said at last, bringing out a burgundy velvet gown with a deep V-neck and slits down both sides. It's a dream of a dress, Kathryn thought, studying her reflection in the mirror, her face glowing as she imagined Blake's reaction to this seductive style—the light went out of her suddenly when she remembered the warning he'd given her, about provoking him. But surely she had the right to wear what she pleased…

  “Kathryn, we've got to go,” Phillip called to her.

  One expressive eyebrow went up, and her eyes danced mischievously. What would this gorgeous gown do to Phillip?

  She opened the curtains and walked out. He stared at her, with lips slightly parted, his brown eyes stunned.

  “Kathryn?” he asked, as if he didn't trust his eyes anymore.

  “Yes, it's me,” she assured him. “Oh, Phil, isn't it a dr
eam?”

  He nodded dubiously. “A dream.”

  “What's the matter?” she asked, going close to look up at him, while the saleswoman smiled secretively from a distance.

  “Are you sure it's legal to wear something like that in public?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Why not? It's very fashionable. Do you really like it?”

  He caught his breath. “Honey, I love it. But Blake…”

  She glared at him. “I'm grown. I keep having to remind Blake…”

  “You won't have to remind him anymore if you wear that dress,” he said, staring down at the soft, exposed curves of her breasts in the plunging neckline. “He'll be able to see for himself.”

  She tossed her long, waving hair defiantly. “I'll bet that actress wears more revealing clothes than this.”

  “She does,” he agreed, “but her lifestyle is different from yours, kitten.”

  “You mean she sleeps with men, don't you, Phillip?” she persisted.

  “Hush, for heaven's sake!” he said quickly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “Remember where we are.”

  “But she does, doesn't she?” she kept on, glaring.

  “I know you've been at it with Blake about your writer friend coming,” Phillip told her quietly. “But don't think you'll retaliate by insulting his latest female acquisition. He'll cut you into little pieces, Kate.”

  She felt the rage welling up in her like rain catching in a vat. “I'm tired of Blake telling me how to live my life. I want to move into an apartment.”

  “Don't tell him yet,” Phillip pleaded.

  “I already have,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with temper.

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said no, of course. He always says no. But it won't work anymore. I'm going to get a job, and an apartment, and you're going to help me,” she added, with a mischievous glance upward.

  “Oh, like hell I am!” he replied. “I'm not taking on Blake for you.”

  She stamped her small foot. “That's what's wrong with men today!”

  His eyebrows went up amusedly. “What is?”

  “That no one's brave enough to take on Blake for me! I'll bet Larry will,” she added stubbornly.