~ ~ ~
Determined to put the past—the dead Professor, the break-in, and the attack behind her, Katherine focused on enjoying herself tonight. So far it’s working, she thought with a grin as she stood between Wesley and Pamela and joined in their banter about the poor paint job on the walls. The new paint, off-white with a touch of crème, failed to completely mask the original yellow, and the old brave color shown underneath in patches.
“If I were you,” Wesley was saying, “I’d have your designer find you a new painter and have it redone.” Kate laughed, hoping the nervous butterflies in her stomach weren’t evident in the noise she made.
“I wish I could have someone find my cat—she’s still missing!”
“Molly is still missing? Don’t worry, she’ll show up. Besides, she’s so fat she can’t run far.”
“If she was scared she might be able to. I’m worried. She didn’t seem to like the house much.”
“Oh, give her time,” Wesley insisted. “She’s only been here for a couple days. It takes me that long to decide if I like a new suit.”
Katherine tuned out the conversation, as she studied Wesley’s face, his long dark lashes, his lean jaw, the blue of his eyes, back down to his lips—and here her gaze lingered for a moment, remembering them on hers before suddenly recollecting herself. “I wish I could get a cat. I was thinking about it, but Johnny wouldn’t hear of it. He’s scared of cats, you know.”
“He—Oh! My parents just arrived.” Pamela’s attention was diverted to the shadows of two silhouettes falling across the floor of the drawing room that marked the arrival of the couple. “Katherine, you haven’t met them yet. I’ll bring them over and introduce you.”
Wesley had noticed her gaze. “You shouldn’t play with fire, kid,” he warned mischievously under his breath as soon as Pamela was out of earshot. “It might come back to bite you.” He suddenly winked at her, offsetting the undertone of seriousness in his voice, then he grinned. “By the way, watch out for Mrs. Torres. She’s a gossip writer for some trashy magazine in Brazil, always snooping for information.”
“Well, she won’t get anything interesting from me.” Katherine’s response was flat, feeling guilty about starting a “fire” as Wesley put it. “I don’t know anyone important around here.” All the while she was talking, she’d been viewing Pamela’s dad. Something about him rang familiar.
“Thanks a lot.” Wesley’s sardonic voice reached her ears.
“Oh!” Katherine restored her focus to the man next to her. “You mean she tries to snoop out information about you. In that case I’ll be extra careful what I say to her.” She laughed.
“No, not really, but it’s a running joke between us why she doesn’t wish to interview me. I’m glad, actually. She always has her nose stuck out a little too far. Ahem.” He cleared his throat as Pamela approached them, bringing her parents over. “Pun not intended.”
Katherine had to choke back a laugh; the first thing she noticed about Mrs. Torres was her large hooked nose. She was still stifling a smile when Pamela introduced them.
“Katherine, I want you to meet my mother, Henrietta, and my father, Doug.” Katherine removed her gaze from Henrietta’s face and met Doug’s striking dark eyes. It was obvious Pamela had gotten her looks from her father, but her slim build certainly wasn’t from the same source. Mr. Torres embodied the self-assured Brazilian businessman, and his stocky build only served to enhance it. He rang Hollywood drama from his smooth lacquered hair to his thick accent.
“Pleeesed to meet you.” When he firmly shook Katherine’s hand, that dogging in her mind told her she’d seen him somewhere before. Where?
“A pleasure.” A polite smile stayed on her face as she studied him and conversed pleasantly with his wife, all the while that same feeling of familiarity itching annoyingly at the back of her mind. “Wesley was just informing me you are a writer.”
Henrietta’s black eyes sparkled and her chin lifted the smallest bit. “Why, yes. I am. I write for a popular magazine in Brazil.”
Katherine ignored Wesley’s broad wink. “Sounds fascinating. What do you write about?”
“Oh, famous people usually,” Henrietta replied carelessly so that Katherine expected her to start name-dropping at any moment. “It’s always a challenge to stay on top of what the public is clamoring for.”
Wesley joined in. “You know the public is always clamoring to hear about me. You’ll have to ask for my interview in advance though, so I can fit you into my busy schedule. Would tomorrow afternoon work?”
“Well, I—er, I’m actually quite busy tomorrow.” Kate could see Henrietta fumbling for an excuse to brush him off without letting him know he wasn’t important enough for her to interview. “Maybe the next time you’re in Brazil I could interview you for a paragraph or two.” The emphasis on the word “maybe” left Katherine with no doubt as to the low probability of him ever being interviewed by her.
“Where did you study architecture, Miss Hale?” Doug intervened smoothly, favoring her with a smile she felt must’ve been well practiced; his very straight teeth were aligned almost perfectly, so that the top barely covered and sat on the bottom, and the corners of his mouth were drawn back like a bow. “The work you have done here is quite impressive.”
“Thank you.” Katherine blushed. “I studied at the university right here in the city, actually.”
“Oh, where Professor Drake worked.” Suddenly his eyes were scrutinizing her. “Did you ever have any of his classes?”
“Um, yes,” Katherine replied, put off by his intense look and the fact that he’d mentioned the death she kept trying to push from her mind. Then she finished flatly, “I had him for one of my last classes in my senior year.”
Wesley, noticing Katherine’s uneasiness, cut in politely, crisply. “We all knew Phillip Drake, quite well. I hear he was even employed for you at one time?”
Doug’s full lips tightened almost imperceptibly, and his smile told Katherine he didn’t like being the one answering questions. “Yes. That was quite some time ago.” Torres’s eyes drifted towards the large door which was creeping open. A polished black shoe appeared, followed by the rest of Johnny’s body clad in a blue suit. Kate glanced at the small clock on the wall; he should’ve been done at the office and here three hours ago.
“Excuse me, my fiancé just arrived.” She seized on the chance to escape Doug’s questions. Feeling guilty for having brushed him off earlier on the phone, she headed over to Johnny, determined to make recompense.
Johnny seemed to be in a good enough mood, thankfully; his eyes looked tired, but he smiled and took her hand, holding it for a long moment. “It’s good to see you, kid.”
She looked up, feeling something passionate blaze deep inside her when she met his eyes. She was crazy about him, but she didn't quite trust him. Why can’t I trust him? Deciding to pretend there was nothing off between them, she forced a smile. “Try to make an effort to enjoy yourself. We don’t want to ruin Pamela’s special event.”
He seemed happy to play along. “All right then, show me where the food is. I’m starving!”
Katherine laughed. “Yes, but first you have to come meet Pamela’s parents.” “Civilities bore me,” he said, but allowed her to lead him over to the little group and perform the usual polite introductions—and he waited the bare minimum time to avoid rudeness, then said, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, my fiancé promised me food.”
She grinned up at him. “There’s no official dinner.” Katherine paused in concern. “Just some finger foods.”
“Whatever,” Johnny said carelessly. “Take me to them.”
A few minutes later he and Kate were standing in a corner while Johnny munched on a pile of tiny cucumber sandwiches, the edges of the white bread cut off. “I hope the poor fellow doesn’t run out of food for the other guests; you should’ve left some.” She laughed to Johnny after he’d taken all the remaining morsels from the server’s tray, and
the man had made a beeline to the kitchen.
“Not my problem. This is no substitute for real food,” Johnny said, as he stuffed sandwiches in his mouth, downing each in a single bite.
Katherine’s eyes drifted about the room. Her gaze fell naturally on Wesley; he was still trapped talking to Pamela’s parents, but by now Mike had joined them, his smile faltering as he met Mr. Torres.
Then the room felt quieter to her, and it took her a moment to put a finger on what it was; the chewing sounds beside her had stopped. “I’m sorry.” She turned to Johnny. “I didn’t forget about you. I was just looking around. See how nervous Mike looks meeting Pamela’s dad for the first time?”
“Yeah.” Boredom echoed in his voice.
“How’s your work going?”
“Coming along. Slowly but surely.” He continued on, talking a bit about his work. She was glad he was making an effort to join the party, even though the real reason he was there was to see her.
Retribution Page 27
