Barri Bryan - Return to Paradise.html

by Return to Paradise (NCP) (lit)

  "Don't you want to stay for the seminars and workshops listed on the program for this afternoon?" Kate put her napkin on the table, and dusted crumbs from her skirt.

  "I'm a banker by trade. My avocation is ranching. I'd rather see the romantic old city of San Antonio with my lovely companion. Besides," York drummed his fingers on the table. "if we stay here, we are bound to run into Sinclair. I'd rather not risk that."

  Kate wondered why York chose the word risk to describe a chance meeting with Hank. Did he see it as a danger or a hazard? Surely not. It was a figure of speech.

  "Would you like to see the Alamo, and the Spanish Governor's Palace?" York extended his hand toward Kate. "We can ride a sight seeing barge, too, if you'd like."

  She had come here for a vacation, and fun. What York was proposing sounded like both. "Maybe we'll have time to go to the top of Hemisfair Tower." Taking York's hand, Kate let him lead her toward the banks of the meandering river.

  The city was fabulous. It had an atmosphere and ambience all its own. York was a knowledgeable tour guide, and a thoughtful escort. He insisted, however, that Kate return to her hotel room to rest before time to put in an appearance at the banquet. "We have quite an evening ahead of us, the banquet and then the dance, and the drive to Rio Medina takes almost an hour. I don't want you to be tired before the evening starts."

  There was something in his thoughtful attitude that made Kate feel protected and secure. "I could use some rest, and maybe you need to rehearse your speech."

  "I've given this speech many times." They were standing before the elevator that would take them to Kate's room.

  York's hand was securely placed under Kate's arm. "I don't need practice. I'm the resident authority on AI in South Texas."

  Kate's smile was alive with warmth as she gazed up into his face. "AI?"

  York's hand slid from Kate's arm to her waist. "AI is the acronym for artificial insemination."

  The elevator doors opened with a clang. Standing just inside the cage, were Hank and Gina. Hank stood aside, allowing Gina to step into the hall. He acknowledged York and Kate with a nod of his head. Maybe York had chosen the word, 'risk' wisely. Hank looked menacing, almost sinister.

  After a few curious stares, and one or two twittering whispers, the other occupants of the elevator moved down the hall, toward the lobby.

  An electric current tightened the air as Gina hooked her hand through Hank's arm. Her low-pitched voice dipped to a husky contralto. "Hello, Mr. Taylor. Kate, imagine seeing you here. How are you?"

  "Well, thank you." Kate inched toward the elevator. "Hello, Hank." She pressed her finger into the button that stayed the elevator door.

  With a tip of his Stetson hat, and a clipped, "Gina. Sinclair." York moved to the back of the elevator, then turned and leaned his back against the hand rail.

  In that short eternity after Kate pulled her finger from the button and before the elevator doors closed, Hanks eyes singed like branding irons into her flushed face. Hank Sinclair was in a rage, not irate, not peeved, but fiercely, savagely angry, with a fury that called on every ounce of his self control to contain.

  As they were jerked upward, Kate kept her eyes glued to the control panel that announced each floor number: two, three, four, her knees were weak, and she felt as if someone had landed a fist to her mid-section. "Hank snubbed us. He didn't even want to speak. Why?"

  "Maybe he and Gina had a quarrel." York had removed his hand, and stood with it in his hand. "Sinclair changes women frequently. Gina has lasted longer than most."

  Six, seven, eight, As the floors passed, so did Kate's moment of panic. Replacing it was a sense of righteous indignation. "I don't think so. I think he was angry because he thought you and I were coming upstairs to..." A quick intake of breath stopped her words, but not her racing mind. Just what had he been doing upstairs with that, that woman?

  York turned the brim of his hat around in his hands as he watched his moving fingers. "I don't think Sinclair would ever understand that a man and a woman could be just friends, or that a man would respect a woman enough not to want to take advantage of her."

  Nine, ten, as the elevator climbed, so did Kate's temper. "The hypocrite!" With a jolt, the elevator came to a stop. Kate grabbed for the hand rail to keep her balance. "Hank Sinclair is the worst kind of hypocrite."

  York took Kate's arm and guided her down the hall. "I've never seen you angry before, Kate. I must say, your temper does justice to your red hair."

  That fierce temper had begun to cool. "I don't know why I got so mad." Kate was a little ashamed of her outburst. By now they were standing outside her door.

  "It's understandable. A double standard, however acceptable, can also be infuriating."

  "And he didn't want to speak to me? Honestly." Kate fumbled through her hand bag, and found her key.

  As he leaned against the wall, York studied Kate carefully. "Did anyone ever tell you that you are a very beautiful woman?"

  Kate was set to give some flip answer, but as she looked into his face, she saw a lingering sadness there, and bald honesty. Color reddened her cheeks. "Not for a very long time."

  "You are, you know, and in a most extraordinary way." Stooping, he kissed her, not a passionate, demanding kiss, as Hank's kiss had been, but soft, assuring, and holding a faint promise. Then he lifted his head and smiled. "Rest. I'll call for you around six thirty."

  Kate stared after him as he walked away, with her key in one hand, and the other hand over her mouth. Why she had felt compelled to compare York's kiss to Hank's?

  Once inside her room, Kate closed the door, leaned against it, and stared at the glossy print that hung above the bed. A pink bird with an S shaped neck and a body like an ostrich, stood on one long leg in a pool of dun-colored muck.

  Kicking off her shoes, Kate fell across the bed. She could still taste York's mouth over hers. Relaxing, she yawned. This was not the way she had felt after Hank had kissed her. Even now recalling Hank's body pressed against hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, caused a surge of passion to quiver through her body.

  Sitting up, she demanded of herself, "What is wrong with you?" Falling back on the bed, she buried her face in her pillow and rolled to one side. Slowly, she raised her face to stare again at the ugly bird on the wall. "You don't know either, do you?"

  Kate did know one thing, and it was a knowledge born of instinct rather than intellect. Anything Hank Sinclair did, had the uncanny ability to draw an intense response from her. She had never before reacted with such passionate fervor, not even to the man who had been her husband for twenty-five years. "He has me conversing with windmills and talking to ugly birds."

  Kate forced herself to feign sleep, until pretense became reality, and she dropped over the edge into a deep slumber.

  She awoke with a start. Crawling from her bed, she quickly showered and began to dress for the evening. She thought, as she stepped into her blue formal, that Belle had done a magnificent job. The dress hugged Kate's bodice like a second skin, then fell in soft folds from the waist to sweep around her feet, and make little swishing sounds when she walked.

  Leaning near the mirror, Kate squinted her eyes. The woman who looked back at her possessed a delicately beautiful face, with a halo of curly red hair that cascaded around her shoulders and fell down her back. Kate had always prided herself on her small, well-proportioned figure, but riding horseback each day, had nipped inches from her waist, and firmed her muscles. Vanity, and a thought that she looked better now than she had ten years ago, caused her to smile at her reflection. "You will do," She told the woman on the other side of the glass.

  If she needed a second opinion as to her superb appearance, she got it when, moments later, she answered York's knock on her door.

  York at a loss for words was something to see. "Kate, you look..." He swallowed, hard. "Ravishing."

  "Thank you, Sir. I'm glad you approve."

  "I think approve is too mild a word. Try enchanted, or ove
rwhelmed. I will be the envy of every man at the banquet, and I'll probably have to fight off competition with a bull whip at the dance." He offered Kate his arm. "Shall we go, lovely lady?"

  Kate had dismissed his words as idle flattery, but later, as they sat with Elroy and Harriet, Elroy leaned across the table and said, "You must save a dance for me, Kate. I'm asking early because by the time some of these cowboys get a look at you, there will be a stampede. Remember, I asked first."

  "I'll remember." Kate laughed to cover her confusion. A request to dance with her was the last thing she had expected from Elroy.

  Kate soon discovered that sitting at a table with York Taylor and Mr. and Mrs. Elroy Enghleman was enough to elicit stares and speculation from almost everyone in the hall. Each time she lifted her face, she was made aware of the looks and curious conjecture of onlookers. She would certainly have a ton of things to tell Belle when she got back to Paradise.

  York excused himself. "If I don't show up on the speakers' platform soon, they'll be paging me." He swept the side of Kate's face with a feathery kiss. "See you soon."

  Kate's eyes scanned the long hall. Sitting three tables away from her, were Hank and Gina. She lifted her hand in a small salute, and got, in return, an angry scowl. She turned away, determined not to let Hank Sinclair's disapproval spoil her otherwise perfect evening.

  Harriet laid her hand over Kate's cold fingers. "I am so pleased you agreed to come with York to Rio Medina for the weekend. Elroy and I worry about York, don't we Elroy?"

  "We sure do," Elroy agreed. Kate had the feeling that Elroy worried about little, past how he was going to make his next million.

  Harriet buttered the bottom half of a dinner roll. "I told Elroy just the other day, I said, 'I do wish York could find someone.' Didn't I say those very words, Elroy?"

  "You sure did, Honey."

  "He's been so alone and lonely since he lost Carol." Harriet took a dainty bite from her buttered roll. "Have you known York long?"

  Kate stabbed a green bean. Harriet sounded like Suzie telling her how lonely Jim had been since Lila left him. She wanted to tell Harriet that she didn't intend to be a substitute for another woman, even if that woman was no longer around. Instead she smiled and popped the bean into her mouth. "A few months."

  "York says you run a ranch." Without waiting for an answer, Harriet forged ahead. "Elroy and I think that's wonderful. Don't we Elroy?"

  Elroy was watching the shapely legs of a retreating waitress. "We sure do."

  "My mother owns the ranch." Kate swallowed the last bite of bean. "The ranch is leased to Hank Sinclair. I work for Hank." As she said his name, Kate cut her eyes in Hank's direction. He was engaged in deep conversation with the man seated next to him.

  "You work for that horrible man?" Harriet's huge eyes rounded. "Oh, dear. I didn't know that. Elroy and I think he's rather crude, don't we Elroy?"

  "We sure do." Elroy used the last of his dinner roll to mop gravy from his plate.

  Harriet leaned across the table. "He's here tonight, you know, and he brought that common woman with him. We think Gina Morton is cheap, don't we Elroy?"

  Elroy popped the gravy and bread into his mouth, and licked his fingers. "We sure do, Honey. I wonder what's for dessert."

  Kate wondered if Elroy ever disagreed with Harriet. She could think of no kind reply to Harriet's opinion of Gina. "York showed me some of the sights in San Antonio this afternoon. It's a fascinating city."

  Harriet refused to change the subject. "I told Elroy when Hank moved back to St. Agnes that he would cause trouble again, if he could. I said, 'That Hank Sinclair will cause trouble if he can.' Didn't I say those very words, Elroy?"

  "You sure did, Honey." Elroy pushed his plate back. "It looks like we're having strawberry shortcake."

  Someone from the speaker's podium stood and began to introduce York. Harriet put one finger over her lips. "Elroy, please. York is about to make his speech."

  Elroy snorted. "I've heard York's speech four times already." But he leaned back in his chair, picked up his wine glass, and heisted it in York's direction. "Let 'er rip."

  By the time the last speech had been made, the last toast proposed, dessert dishes cleared away, and coffee was served, Kate had schooled herself not to look in Hank's direction. If she couldn't see his furious, condemning eyes, she wouldn't be intimidated.

  As York escorted Kate from the banquet hall into the dimly lit ballroom, he spoke into her ear, "I hope you got a chance to become a little better acquainted with Harriet and Elroy."

  "We had a very nice visit."

  "In many ways Harriet is still a little girl." York was ushering Kate to a table for two near the dance floor. "My father had some old-fashioned ideas about women. He felt they should be cherished and protected. He always treated Harriet like a child. The result was, Harriet never really grew up."

  Kate sat down in the chair York held out for her. "I see." She couldn't tell York that she thought Harriet was shallow and self-centered.

  York sat down across from Kate. "Shall we forget about Harriet, and everyone else besides you and me? I want to dance with you again, Kate. I want to feel my arms around you once more."

  The mirrored ball that hung from the ceiling, rotated around and around, causing a kaleidoscope of lights to romp in and out of the shadows cast by the dancing couples. Kate thought, shadow and substance, careful, Kate, in the darkness, you may not be able to tell the difference. She reached to clasp York's hand. "I'd love to dance."

  Although she could hardly be called the belle of the ball, Kate didn't lack for invitations to dance. All of this, York took in stride, smiling and nodding, each time some new partner appeared to ask for the 'pleasure of this dance'. Kate decided that York was secretly pleased to be the escort of a woman that so many other men found attractive.

  That pleasure, along with any pretense at good manners, vanished with the appearance of a tall, muscular young man who came to stand by their table. "Hello, Mr. Taylor." Without waiting for an invitation, the brash young man sat down, and smiled brazenly at Kate. "I don't know your lady friend, but I sure would like to."

  York's lips scarcely moved as he spoke. "Get lost, Beau."

  Kate thought Beau was a most inept name for the ruggedly handsome young man who ignored York's threat, and extended his hand across the table in her direction. "Hi, I'm Beauguard Jackson. My friends call me Beau."

  "Kate McClure," Kate shook the hand that held hers in a loose caress, and refused to let go when she tried to pull away.

  "Beau's father owns the feed mill over in Jourdanton," York explained.

  "The truth is," Beau spoke with a slow drawl, "my old man owns half of South Texas. That's why Mr. Taylor doesn't run my butt off." Beau turned his chair around, straddled it, and pushed a hand through his long blonde hair. "I told my buddies over there," He jerked his thumb in the direction of the bar, "I don't care of old York Taylor is the meanest SOB in Atascosa County, I've just got to meet that pretty woman." Raising one eyebrow, he smiled. "So, here I am."

  "And now that you have proved to your uncouth friends how brave you are, you can go." York's words dripped with sarcasm.

  "Hey I didn't mean for you to get your hackles up." Beau moved his chair nearer Kate. "God I never saw hair like yours before in my whole life. Will you dance with me, Kate?"

  How could she tell him, without wounding his male pride and marring his macho image before his young friends, that she was probably twice his age, and not interested? It would be best to do that out of York's presence. "I'd be delighted."

  Kate gave York what she hoped was a reassuring look. "Excuse us, please?"

  Beau followed Kate onto the dance floor, and pulled her close to him. "I think you made old man Taylor mad."

  "Old man Taylor? You sound like my son. To him anyone over thirty is ancient."

  "Oh, yeah? Your son sounds like one smart kid. How old is he?"

  "The kid," Kate told him, as she braced her arms to ke
ep from being smothered in Beau's embrace, "is twenty-seven-years old." That, she thought with a touch of smug satisfaction, should dampen Beau's amorous intentions.

  It didn't. Beau nuzzled his face in her hair. "He sounds like someone I'd like to meet."

  "You might want to meet my daughter too. She's a senior in college."

  Beau moved to the edge of the floor, and slowed his steps. "I don't care for girls. I prefer women." His hands were moving down Kate's spine. "I'm partial to women with red hair and blue eyes."

  Kate had been so sure she could handle this impertinent young man. Now she was not so certain. "Don't you understand what I'm telling you? I'm old enough to be your mother." In spite of her resolve to stay in control, her voice rose. "I have children your age."

  "Are you old Taylor's woman?" Beau's hot hand kept moving up and down her back. "I am not anybody's woman!"

  "Will you go out with me next Saturday night?"

  "Young man, are you asking me for a date?" Kate couldn't believe anyone would be so brash and arrogant.

  "Damn right," was the swift reply.

  From behind Kate came the rumble of a deep masculine voice. "Back off, Beau."

  A wide grin of friendly recognition spread across Beau's face. "Hey, Hank, how's it going?"

  Hank took Kate's arm and began to guide her off the floor.

  Beau followed close behind. "Hey Hank, you can't walk off with my woman. I saw her first."

  "Kate works for me, Beau." Hank held onto Kate's arm.

  "Kate works for you?" Surprise tilted Beau's voice. "God damn! What the hell does she do?"

  "She runs the Paradise spread, among other things."

  "I can guess what some of those other things might be." Beau grimaced under Hank's malevolent stare. "Am I getting out of line, Hank?"