Love Beyond Reason

by Sandra Brown

  “My clients are prepared to take the child and rear her as their own. Of course, for your time, trouble, and expense these past few weeks that she’s been in the hospital, you will be compensated.”

  “You mean bought off, don’t you?”

  “Please, Miss Adams, I think you are misinterpreting the purpose of my clients. They are financially able to rear the child in an opulent environment. Surely you want what’s in the best interest of the child?”

  “The mother felt it in her child’s best interest that I rear her.” Wisely she refrained from telling him of the handwritten instructions.

  “I’m sure the father’s wishes would have differed greatly.” Katherine hated his condescending attitude. “Besides, this discussion is academic. I’m sure no court would award guardianship of a child to a single working girl with indeterminate morals, when such an illustrious couple as the Mannings are more than willing to take responsibility for their only grandchild, the heir and offspring of their eldest son.”

  The insult to her character was so unethical that Katherine didn’t honor it with a comment, but she knew that he was threatening her. She could well imagine him saying words to that effect in a courtroom, and it chilled her to the bone to predict what the outcome of such a custody hearing would be.

  Katherine stifled her initial panic and tried to reason through her predicament. Uppermost in her mind was the determination that Allison would not grow up under Eleanor Manning’s influence and power. They must have many friends in high places. She and Allison had to get away from them. Plans were made and she carried them out with dispatch.

  The pediatrician agreed to release Allison from the hospital a few days earlier than he had originally planned with the condition that Katherine bring the infant to his office the following week. Katherine hated lying, but solemnly promised she would have the baby there.

  She called a realtor and discussed the sale of her house. Whatever monies were made were to be put into a savings account in Allison’s name. That could be collected later along with any interest accrued. All the furnishings in the house were to be sold, except what Katherine would take with her. The realtor could keep that money in payment for her trouble.

  Katherine rented a safety deposit box and, after making a copy of the pitiful paper-towel document, lovingly folded it into the metal box.

  She didn’t answer her telephone and covered her movements well. Her car was parked away from the house, and she sacrificed the use of lights after dark. Fearful of being presented with a subpoena, she strove for invisibility.

  She packed everything she possibly could in the small compact car. Her emotions were running high as she picked up Allison from the hospital.

  Katherine gently lay her in the car bed that was strapped by the safety belt onto the front seat of the car. She leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the velvet forehead.

  “I don’t know much about being a mother,” she whispered to the sleeping child. “But then you don’t know a lot about being a baby either.”

  Gazing down into Allison’s sweet face that so reminded her of Mary, she felt at ease for the first time since hearing of Peter’s death.

  As she left Denver, she allowed herself no poignant backward glances toward the mountains or thoughts about selling the house that had been the only home she remembered. She thought of the future, hers and Allison’s. From now on, they had no past.

  * * *

  Katherine straightened her back and hunched her shoulders to stretch the cramped muscles. She was sitting on the newspaper-lined living room floor of her garage apartment. For the past half-hour she had been painting a chest of drawers for Allison’s room. The evening before she had applied the final coat of glossy blue to the wood surface and was now adding a contrasting yellow stripe. The yellow paint had spotted the newspaper and a few drops had landed on Katherine’s bare legs.

  Dipping the fine brush into the paint can, she sighed with contentment. Everything had turned out well for her and Allison. Under any circumstances, traveling halfway across the country by oneself with a newborn baby in tow would be an intimidating project. Katherine had left Denver under the grimmest of circumstances, yet the trip had gone smoothly. Allison was an angel of a baby, sleeping every minute that Katherine wasn’t changing or feeding her.

  Katherine never remembered living in Van Buren, Texas, but her family had lived in the small town before her father’s insurance company had offered him a better job in Denver.

  Katherine remembered her mother reminiscing about east Texas and its verdant landscape and deep woods. The pictures she painted of it belied the stereotypical depictions of Texas that portrayed vast barren landscapes with tumbleweeds being tossed about by incessant winds. Katherine, after driving through miles of country like that in west Texas, was surprised to find that Van Buren was just as her mother had described it—a peaceful, quaint college town nestled in the piny woods.

  Glancing out her wide windows now, Katherine delighted in the sight of the six pecan trees that grew in the yard separating her garage apartment from Happy Cooper’s house.

  Her new landlady had proved to be a godsend. Katherine had reached Van Buren just as the college’s spring term was ending and was lucky enough to secure the apartment which for the past two years had been shared by two Van Buren College coeds. The apartment, having two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and bath, was spacious.

  Katherine lay her paintbrush aside and walked on silent bare feet into the room she had designated as Allison’s, though they both slept in it. Leaning over the repainted crib she had found in a second-hand store, she looked at her niece. The infant’s rapid growth was amazing. In the two months they had been in Van Buren, she had gained weight and filled out to become a plump, happy baby despite her inauspicious birth. Katherine smiled at Allison and scooted a stuffed bunny from under a chubby hand before settling a light blanket over her.

  Katherine enjoyed her days off when she could be alone with the baby. She had miraculously secured a job in the public relations office of the college, but was concerned about Allison’s care during the day. Much to her surprise, Happy had timidly offered to keep the baby. When Happy made the unexpected suggestion, Katherine had stared at her, smiled, laughed, then to her own amazement and Happy’s alarm, began to cry.

  What would she have done without Happy, who was a frustrated grandmother who rarely got to see her grandchildren? She had two grown daughters who lived with their families on each coast, and a son who lived and worked in Louisiana. He was still single, and Happy mourned his marital status at least once a day. Having been married for forty-three years before being widowed, Happy couldn’t imagine anyone voluntarily living alone.

  Yes, everything was going well. Katherine’s job was surely more interesting than what she had been doing in Denver. Her boss sometimes struck her as odd, for he had the annoying habits of staring, perspiring, and licking his lips. But overlooking his peculiarities, she liked her work.

  Scratching her nose absentmindedly, she unknowingly smeared yellow paint across it. Then softly humming to herself, she rose from the floor to answer a knock at the door. It wouldn’t be Happy. She usually didn’t take the time or effort to knock.

  Katherine tugged on the bottom of the short, ragged cutoffs she was wearing, hoping that whoever was at the door wouldn’t be offended by her appearance.

  “Yes?” she said, opening the door.

  Had she been about to say anything else, it would have been impossible. The man who filled the doorway was the most spectacular-looking man she had ever seen. If his size weren’t enough to distinguish him, certainly the raven black hair and startling blue eyes would have been.

  He gave Katherine the same intent inspection she was giving him, and his sensual mouth curved into an amused grin when he took in her disheveled state. Knowing she was going to be working at home all day, she hadn’t bothered to do anything more with her honey-colored hair than sweep it up into a careless knot on the
top of her head and secure it with pins haphazardly stuck in at varying angles. Tendrils, bleached by the sun, brushed against her cheeks and clung damply to her neck.

  Her skin was flushed with color from exertion and the humid warmth of the late summer morning. The extremely short and faded cutoffs were topped by an equally ragged chambray shirt whose sleeves had been cut out long ago either by Katherine or Mary. She had tied the shirttail in a knot under her breasts. It was a good shirt to paint in, but was far from being appropriate attire for greeting guests.

  Katherine’s first impulse was to slam the door and protect herself from further embarrassment, but the man stared straight into her wide, green eyes and said with no inflection, “I’m Jason Manning.”

  Chapter Two

  His announcement hit her like a blow in the stomach and robbed her of logical thought. She stood stupefied for several seconds before she slumped against the door frame. She expelled her breath, having held it since opening the door and catching sight of this magnificent man who was Peter Manning’s brother.

  When she didn’t reply or show any inclination toward inviting him in, he said mockingly, “I’m not in the habit of ravishing young women, Miss Adams. And though I’ve been in Africa for the better part of two years, I’m still civilized.”

  His eyes were twinkling with mirth, and Katherine automatically resented his humor. He was going to destroy the world she had so painstakingly built for herself and Allison, and he had the gall to stand there and smile!

  “May I come in?” he asked politely, and begrudgingly Katherine moved aside and allowed him to come through the door. She closed it behind him, then changed her mind and opened it again. He caught her move and smiled even deeper. The dimples on either side of his mouth were his only resemblance to Peter. His teeth showed incredibly white in his dark face.

  “Still afraid I’m here to do you bodily harm?” he asked teasingly. Then he assumed a serious face and said softly, “Seeing you in that outfit, I’ll admit the prospect is damned tempting, but I would never take advantage of a lady with paint on her face.”

  Katherine glanced down at her atrocious clothes and gasped as she noted how closely the damp cloth was clinging to her breasts. While she was bathing Allison, as was usually the case, she had become drenched. She had forgotten until now that her shirt had been soaked by the time she put the baby down for her nap.

  Oh, God! she mentally groaned. She risked looking up at Jason Manning, but he was bending down from his tremendous height to pick up a wet cloth she had used to wipe away the dripping acrylic paint. Fascinated, like one hypnotized, she watched him approach her and reach out to grasp her chin in his fingers.

  He tilted her head back so he could see what he was doing as he applied the cloth to the spot of paint on her nose. He went about his job absorbedly, unemotionally, but Katherine was finding it difficult to breathe. His whole presence was overwhelming, suffocating. The fingers on her jaw were strong, but gentle. His skin was very dark. Tans like that weren’t acquired by short periods of exposure to the sun while lying coated with thick applications of suntan lotion.

  The lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes like fine webs were another indication that he spent most of his time out of doors. Oil? Wasn’t that what Mary had said? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything. Her brain had been swept clean when he came toward her and clasped her chin in his hand.

  His eyes were surrounded by thick, short, black lashes and framed by raven black brows that arched and tapered as if painted on. Katherine was on eye level with his chest and by raising her eyes only slightly, she could see his strong column of throat. In the deep V of his open sport shirt collar, she saw curling black hair that undoubtedly covered his broad chest. God! What was she thinking?

  Angry with herself for allowing him such familiarity, she pushed his hand away and stepped backward.

  “What do you want, Mr. Manning?”

  He shrugged and dropped the cloth back onto the newspapers spread under his feet. “A Coke would be nice.” He smiled beguilingly.

  “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” she snapped. She was furious in her desperation. His friendly manner was only a ploy to reduce her suspicions and relax her guard. Well, she had resisted the advances of one Manning. Shivering in disgust, she remembered Peter’s behavior toward her. I’ll resist this Manning too. “What are you doing here?” she inquired coldly.

  He sighed and crossed the room to sit on the sofa, the cushions of which she had so proudly re-covered herself.

  “I think my reason for being here would be obvious to you, Katherine.” The sound of her name coming from his mouth made her heart lurch. Were they on a first-name basis already? Another of his disarming tricks, no doubt.

  He studied her a moment as he leaned negligently back against the cushions of the couch. “I came to get my brother’s baby.”

  She had known his purpose, but having him verbalize it struck terror in her heart. The pain in her chest was almost more than she could bear. She wasn’t going to crumple in front of him. She couldn’t!

  Her face paled considerably, and, slowly shaking her head, she choked out, “No.”

  When he saw her distress, he stood and took a few steps toward her. She backed away from him, and when he read the aversion on her face, he stopped. Raking his fingers through hair that would forever be somewhat unruly, he muttered a curse under his breath.

  He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth several times and stared at her through squinted eyes. He stood with his hands on his hips, and the commanding stance made Katherine feel even more vulnerable in her shabby clothes and bare feet. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, but met his stare with as much calm as she could muster.

  Finally he spoke. “Look. I know this isn’t going to be easy on anyone. So could we at least try to make it as painless as possible? I really would like a Coke if you have one. A cup of coffee? Let’s discuss our mutual problem like rational grown-ups. Okay?”

  “I have no problem, Mr. Manning.”

  “Jace.”

  “What?” she asked, momentarily distracted by his interruption.

  “Call me Jace.”

  “Oh. Well, as I was saying, I have no problem. I love my sister’s baby as if she were my own. On her deathbed Mary commissioned me to take care of her, to rear her, to prevent her from ever coming under the influence of any Manning. I have rocked her, bathed her, fed her—”

  “You fed her?” His eyes went to her breasts, and Katherine flushed hotly in embarrassment and anger. And why were her nipples pressing so tautly against her shirt? Ever since Jace had touched her, she had been self-consciously aware of them being unrestrained under the chambray. A bra had seemed an unnecessary garment when she dressed that morning. This man was threatening in ways other than taking Allison away from her, and she was incapable of dealing with any of them.

  Jace was still looking at her with that annoying, amused grin, and she lashed out at him. “Don’t be obtuse, Mr. Manning. You know that at the hospital babies are put on a formula if the mother can’t or doesn’t want to… to…”

  “Breast feed?” he asked softly, intimately.

  Katherine looked out the window, then at her bare feet—anywhere to escape those penetrating eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat before she mumbled, “Yes.” She hurried past him on her way to the kitchen. The business of getting him a drink would cover her acute embarrassment. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  She went through the kitchen door practically at a run and braced herself against the counter as if she had reached a haven of repose. Breathing heavily, she put both hands to her pounding temples and asked herself in a critical whisper, “What is the matter with me?”

  This person… this man—and, God, what a magnificent man!—had totally disconcerted her. She was trembling. There was a tickling sensation in her thighs. She had attributed it to the strings on the legs of her cutoffs, but now admitted it was
coming from within. She pressed the palms of her hands flat against her nipples, willing them to return to their relaxed state.

  “Can I help?”

  Katherine jumped as she heard the voice so close behind her. “W-what? Oh, no. What did you want? A Coke?”

  “Yeah, that’d be nice.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “What do you call that color on the walls of the living room?”

  She was nervously unscrewing the cap on a bottle of Coke she had found in the refrigerator. How long had it been there? What if it was flat? “The color? Oh, it’s called terra cotta.” She rattled the glass as she set it on the counter and reached for the ice in the freezer. The ice tray stuck and she almost broke a fingernail trying to pry it out.

  “It’s pretty. How’d you ever think of it? Isn’t it a bit unusual?”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “You should have seen my landlady’s face when I asked permission to paint the room and showed her the sample. She thought I was crazy, but then finally agreed to it. You see, my sister Mary—” she broke off remembering suddenly who he was and why he was here.

  He sensed her reticence and gently urged, “Yes? Your sister Mary…?”

  Katherine turned away from him and poured the Coke down the side of the ice-filled glass. “Mary was an artist. Sometimes for fun we’d plan rooms and imagine them in outlandish colors. One night she planned a room with orange walls, and surprisingly, we liked it. I’ve wanted to do a room like that ever since.”

  She extended the glass of Coke to him and he nodded his thanks. He moved aside and let her go before him back into the living room.

  “Who’s going to carry the firewood up the stairs?” he asked completely out of context.

  His perception and keen observations were uncanny and disturbing. “Happy, my landlady, asked me the same thing. But I like fireplaces and hated seeing this one going to waste. A former tenant had bricked it in. I had it reopened. I guess I’ll have to bring up the firewood one log at a time.”