WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  Kenneth reached his hotel room when a familiar, fine-tuned sixth sense kicked in. The prickle of hair on the back of his neck made him pause and stare at the closed door. It had been years. Still…

  The door swung open suddenly and Kenneth silently cursed as his adrenaline kicked in. His hands balled into fists as he assumed an offensive stance.

  "Hold on! It's just me."

  Kenneth released a pent-up breath along with a healthy curse as he stared at his brother. "Eric! What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Nice to see you, too," Eric replied mildly. Kenneth plowed a hand through his styled hair, ruining the carefully cultivated look. "You know better than to surprise me, Brother."

  Eric stepped back, allowing Kenneth into the room. "If you'd return your messages, I wouldn't be here."

  Kenneth avoided his brother's scrutiny. "I got sidetracked."

  "That's apparent. But you know the rules." Eric's eyes were steady, unrelenting. The eyes of the oldest brother. And despite adulthood, the same concern still lurked there. "Those rules haven't changed."

  Kenneth moved restlessly toward the window. "As you can see, I'm fine. A little confused maybe, but that's all."

  "Spill it."

  Kenneth laughed humorlessly. "Refreshing to see you're still as blunt as ever."

  Eric focused midnight dark eyes on his brother. "I didn't fly across the country to exchange pleasantries. Is there a problem? One we should all know about?"

  Kenneth sighed, knowing he had broken rules he'd lived by for more than a decade. And meeting his brother's unblinking stare, he also knew it would be good to have someone to confide in. That in itself was a rarity.

  "Barbara Callister is here."

  Eric's brows shot up as he narrowed his gaze. "You contacted her?"

  "She's opposing counsel on the case I'm handling." Briefly Kenneth outlined how he'd seen Barbara's name on the documents, then garnered the case for his own, and told Eric about the subsequent events since they'd met. "And now I'm in deep … too deep."

  "How did she react to seeing you again?"

  Kenneth turned his head, staring out the window, barely seeing the magnificent display. "She didn't recognize me."

  "But you just said—"

  Kenneth couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Despite that, she doesn't know who I really am."

  "Why haven't you told her?"

  Good question. One he'd asked himself a thousand times already. "I intended to. Then I deliberately waited, hoping she'd know who I was … believing she had to somehow know." Kenneth unclenched his hands. "Now it's too late."

  "It's never too late to set things right."

  Kenneth stared at his brother in disbelief. "What do I say? Hey, now that I've duped you and seduced you, guess what? I'm Billy Duncan. Want to go back in the past with me? Forget what a jerk I've been lately? Forget that I took your trust and stomped it to pieces?"

  "Smooth talker," Eric replied dryly. "Why not tell her what happened? That you didn't have any choice in the past? That you don't have much more of a choice now?"

  Kenneth rubbed his jaw, then let his hand drop to his side. "Even this meeting is a risk. How can I compromise our entire family?"

  Eric weighed his answer heavily. "Can you trust her?"

  "I think so…" But enough to risk his entire family's safety?

  "She's a responsible attorney. Surely she understands how the Witness Protection Program works."

  "Logically, no problem. But convincing her that I couldn't contact her for fifteen years might be different. Then she won't be dealing with an intellectual issue, but an emotional one."

  "And it's not an emotional issue for the rest of us? Hiding, changing our identities? Being afraid to fall in love and have a family because we draw someone else into the danger? Having to split the family unit and spread ourselves around the country so we no longer resembled the Duncan family? And still having to live as though we belonged to the Mafia, instead of being openly proud that our father had the guts to bring down a mobster?" Eric caught Kenneth's gaze and held it. "Bottom line, if you love her, you have to tell her the truth."

  "I never stopped loving her," Kenneth admitted. "I shoved her memory to the background, but seeing her again … knowing her now…"

  "Then you have to be the one to decide. If you're wrong, you jeopardize all of us. If you're right, it could be your best shot at happiness."

  "And if she can't accept that I haven't told her so far?"

  "From what I remember of Barbara, she might be angry with you, but I don't think she'd blow the cover on the rest of us. But it's your call, Brother."

  As he well knew. "I threw out an ultimatum that night. I told her if she wouldn't elope, that we were through. I thought I could force her to say yes. I never dreamed it would be the last thing I'd say to her. Then I disappeared for fifteen years without a word. How can she accept any explanation this late in coming?"

  "If she loves you, she might be glad to know that silence saved your life."

  Kenneth gazed at his brother, knowing the woman Eric loved at the time had chosen not to live a life filled with risk. And Eric had been the one to relocate on the East Coast, far from the rest of the family, in a move designed to totally disguise the former Duncan family unit. Luckily Kenneth had gone to school at Harvard, and they'd had some contact.

  But it was a lonely existence. Friends couldn't be brought into the confidence. It was a danger for them as well as the Duncans. Which is what Billy had been cautioned when they were swept into the program fifteen years ago. Raging, he'd insisted on telling Barbara and had been told the knowledge would endanger her as well as the rest of the family. It was too raw, too fresh. They would be lucky to escape the long arm of the mob, but no one else could know.

  And if Barbara was involved, she could be equally at risk. Angered, then anguished, he'd had to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life. And he'd had to believe that it was the right decision.

  But now there was Barbara again.

  And he loved her. More than he worried about any risk for himself. He met Eric's unblinking gaze. But he had the rest of his family to worry about still.

  Eric laid a heavy, but comforting hand on his shoulder. "Still your call."

  Kenneth's voice was somber. "And I'm no closer to knowing what to do."

  Eric quirked an unexpected smile. "Try humor. That's always worked for you."

  Kenneth affectionately slugged his brother. "I'll remind you about that the next time you complain about my best practical joke so far."

  Eric groaned. "I have a feeling the next one will be coming soon."

  Kenneth laughed, then gripped his brother's hand in a firm shake. "Thanks for the advice. I don't see you often enough, you know."

  "Pull another disappearing act, kid, and you'll remember I'm the big brother."

  Kenneth wished for the millionth time that things could have been different, that their family hadn't been ripped apart. And then he wished, too, for wisdom. Because he had to decide whether to tell Barbara the truth.

  * * *

  Barbara checked her appearance in the full-length mirror inside her bedroom door, adjusted the tailored red silk blouse and then, satisfied, took one last sip of coffee before grabbing her briefcase from the hall. She had just enough time to go over this morning's exhibits before court time.

  Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she reached for the doorknob and twisted it.

  The door remained steadfastly closed.

  Frowning, she twisted the knob again. Nothing happened.

  Not sure what to think, she yanked on the knob.

  It didn't move.

  Pitching her briefcase and purse on the floor, she used both hands to attack the knob. The door didn't budge.

  She grabbed a nearby chair, disregarding the fact that it was a valued antique, and stood on it, peering out of the half circle of glass at the top of the d
oor. It took her a moment, then she realized that the door had been taped shut.

  What in the world?

  Better question, who in the world? But then, that was a question that didn't need answering.

  She was going to kill him.

  Looking around for another escape route, she realized there wasn't one. Her apartment was on the tenth floor and, while French doors opened on to the balcony, there was no exit other than the front door.

  Feeling like an idiot, she realized she would have to call someone for help. The building manager? Or 911? Oh, this was going to be hugely embarrassing.

  A knock thundered on the door.

  "Fire department! You call for help, lady?"

  Barbara put her eye to the peephole. Kenneth stood outside, dressed in an Armani suit, a fireman's hat on his head, waving an ax. She searched for justified anger as a wave of giggles erupted.

  "Don't worry, ma'am. We'll have you out in no time. Obviously the work of terrorists."

  The sound of tape being unpeeled reached through the door.

  "That or a sick mind, ma'am. Never know who we're dealing with these days."

  Barbara reached again for anger. At the same moment, Kenneth swung open the door. "Women and children first. Got any babies I can rescue?" He flashed her a wide grin. "That'd look great on my résumé."

  Giggles won over anger. "You are the most hopeless, idiotic…"

  "Someone once told me that humor was a great icebreaker."

  "Did that same person also tell you that I have to be in court early today?"

  Kenneth scratched his chin. "Those fonts of wisdom can run dry every once in a while."

  "Consider it arid, Gerrard." But a soft smile curved her lips. "Nice to see you first thing in the morning."

  "And the last thing at night," he murmured, reaching out to kiss her. The fireman's helmet clanked between them.

  Barbara rubbed her forehead. "Careful, Captain Courageous, that thing's dangerous."

  He winked lasciviously. "Glad you noticed, ma'am."

  "You are hopeless." Flushing with a renewed heat, she straightened her already-immaculate suit and fussed with her purse as she bent to retrieve it.

  "Is that any kind of gratitude?" he asked with a wounded expression, the light in his eyes giving him away. "After that stellar rescue?"

  She wished they didn't have to be in court. She pictured the sweet-smelling sheets she'd just put on the bed, and imagined rumpling those fresh linens.

  A sigh escaped as she leaned against him. "You're a bad influence, Gerrard."

  Pulling off the helmet and dropping it with a gentle thud on the carpeted floor, he reached out to twirl the hair that she'd left loose and free. "I hope so, Counselor."

  "Not denying it?"

  He hooked his thumbs behind her neck, massaging the sensitive spots there. "No point, when you've got me dead to rights."

  Her breath grew thready. "Case closed, Gerrard?" He moved his hands down her back and over her hips. "Not completely, I hope."

  Her lips opened to accept his kiss, tasting an unexpected desperation. At odds with his humor, that darker emotion flavored his kiss, drew her deeper to the crest he was riding.

  A wave of memories triggered suddenly. The desperation in Billy's last kiss, those final moments. When she could draw back, Barbara stared into Kenneth's eyes, struck by the similarities between his and Billy's. But Kenneth had distinctly green eyes, while Billy's had been an unforgettable shade of blue.

  Shaking her head to dislodge the confusing thoughts, she credited them to the wave of passion that swept over her while in Kenneth's arms. Since she'd only given her heart twice, she supposed it was normal to compare the experiences. Much like the sense of déjà vu that had accompanied her entire relationship with Kenneth.

  He gave her one last, reluctant kiss. "If you're going to be on time, we'd better get going. While you check your lipstick, I'll go stash the ax and helmet."

  Her fingers flew automatically to her lips. Just thinking about their kiss caused a warm rosy flush all over again.

  Then he gathered his props, waved and disappeared. In a few short minutes, she checked and repaired her makeup and was out the door. She wished Kenneth had stuck around. They could have driven to court together.

  Slipping her keys from her purse, she fingered them as she walked toward her car. Humming, she inserted her key into the door lock and found it wouldn't go all the way in. Frowning, she glanced at the key and then looked, really looked at her car.

  The locks were taped shut.

  Beneath the tape appeared to be at least a ton of confetti. Carefully applied only to the locks, the tape wouldn't hurt the car's finish, but how was she going to get her car door open? Despite the grin tugging at her lips, she knew she should be mad.

  A horn tooted and she whirled around.

  Kenneth grinned at her from the open space of his convertible, the top rolled back and down. "Need a ride, lady?"

  Sauntering over to his car, she leveled him with a mock glare. "What I need, apparently, is a large investment in the local tape business. I could make a fortune."

  "I haven't kidnapped you in a while. Thought you were due."

  She glanced back at her decorated car. "You have a definite way of making a statement, Gerrard."

  His eyes met and locked on hers. "I'm just beginning to talk, Counselor."

  Warmth curled, then raced through her bloodstream.

  He reached over and opened the door. Feigning reluctance, she slid in beside him. "Going my way, Gerrard?"

  Cupping her chin, he studied her lips. "Always."

  Instead of a quick, cocky gesture, he placed a gentle, searching kiss on her lips.

  Once again at odds with the whimsical morning he'd provided, she wondered. But he was easing back, then shifting the car into forward, letting the sleek vehicle eat up the miles of concrete.

  The sky was an incomparable field of unending blue, interrupted occasionally by a burst of non-threatening clouds of purest white. Sunshine poured over the mountains, drenching the city. Glancing over at Kenneth, Barbara knew she'd like nothing better than to ditch the trial proceedings and play hooky.

  Studying his face, she was surprised by the serious set to his jaw. She couldn't see his eyes because they were shaded by designer sunglasses, but she suspected the expression there was serious, as well. Once again she wondered why.

  She enjoyed the ride, the luxury of having someone else battle the traffic. While the congestion wasn't on the level of L.A.'s or Houston's, there was an annoying surplus of cars on the freeway. She'd always enjoyed the independence of driving her own car, the freedom to come and go as she pleased. But there was something infinitely more pleasurable about sharing that ride with Kenneth.

  Settling back, she listened to the comfortable oldies station Kenneth had tuned in. A song by the Beach Boys ended and the disc jockey began talking, segueing into the next commercial.

  She started to automatically tune out the advertisement when the disc jockey's words in the commercial began to penetrate as the obviously amateur commercial began. "Every Ken needs his Barbie. Won't you be my doll?"

  Then the disc jockey jokingly commented, "Those were the words of one of our city's lovesick in a special plea to his ladylove."

  Barbara swiveled her head to stare at Kenneth as the commercial continued, a blatant and that spelled out Ken's desire for Barbie.

  Clearing her throat, she angled her head toward him. "Tell me you didn't do that."

  "What?"

  "Don't play innocent, Gerrard. That commercial just now." It hit her suddenly, his perfect timing. Taping her in the apartment, then her car. It had ensured that she would be sitting beside him when the advertisement aired.

  "Like it?" he asked, completely unabashed.

  "I … I…" She didn't know. It was so unexpected, so out of character for her carefully cultivated image. But then, no one she knew would identify her as the Barbie Ken must have.

&nbs
p; "Don't sweat it, Counselor. It'll be our little secret."

  Barbara couldn't resist glancing at the cars surrounding them, wondering how many of the occupants were smirking and laughing over the commercial.

  "You really think your fellow commuters have time to worry about one little commercial?" he asked, navigating into the outside lane. "Or to speculate whether the people are real?"

  "They are real, though, aren't they?" she asked in a quiet voice.

  Kenneth crossed lanes, smoothly exiting into downtown Salt Lake. He took his eyes from the traffic. "Very real."

  A semitruck honked and Kenneth returned his attention to the road. As they neared the streets leading to the courthouse, the traffic increased considerably.

  "I wonder if something's going on," Barbara commented as they got closer to the courthouse. "It's usually not this crowded."

  "Any big murder cases in town?" Kenneth asked, turning down a side street.

  "No. Must be something else."

  After parking, they walked toward the huge stone building. Barbara resisted the urge to lean closer to Kenneth, to pretend they were strolling toward a date rather than a day in court. But her client could be nearby, and she didn't need another confrontation with him.

  They rounded the corner, nearing the steps leading to the courthouse. Suddenly a pack of reporters rushed up to them, shouting, waving microphones and positioning video cameras.

  "Miss Callister, can you tell us more about Cookiegate?"

  "When do we hear your version, Mr. Gerrard?"

  "Is there more to this case than cookies?"

  "Mr. Gerrard, any truth to Mr. Delight's allegations?"

  An array of similar requests burst from the eager group of reporters as they pushed closer, surrounding them.

  "This will be played out in court, not the news media," Kenneth responded curtly.

  Taking Barbara's arm, he carved a path for them to the door.

  One reporter took a last, parting shot. "You two really on opposite sides?"

  The tic in Kenneth's jaw increased, but other than that he remained expressionless. They pushed inside, followed by the pack of hungry reporters. Kenneth shouldered his way into a room reserved for attorneys.

  As the door closed behind them, Kenneth jerked a thumb outward toward the reporters still roaming the hall. "I want you to know I didn't have any idea they'd be here."