Season Of Passion (1980)

by Steel, Danielle

  Season Of Passion

  Danielle Steel

  *

  Chapter 1

  The alarm went off just after six. She stirred, reached an arm out from under the covers, and turned it off. She could still pretend that she hadn't heard it She could go back to sleep. She didn't have to go ' wasn't as if' and then the phone rang.

  Damn. Kaitlin Harper sat up in bed. Her long brown hair hurig over her shoulders in the braids she had worn the day before, and her face was brown from the sun. The phone rang again, and with a sigh she answered it, crushing a yawn, between her teeth. She had a delicate mouth, which smiled abundantly when she was happy, but today her green eyes already looked too serious. She was awake now. It was so much easier to sleep and forget

  Hi, Kate. She smiled at the familiar voice. She had known it would be Felicia. Nobody else knew where she was.

  What are you doing up at this hour?

  Oh, the usual.

  Kate broke into a broad grin. At six o'clock? Some usual. She knew Licia better than that. Felicia Norman could barely make it out of bed by eight, and at her office her secretary was carefully instructed to shield her from any undue shocks until at least ten. Six o'clock in the morning was hardly her hour. Except for Kate. For Kate, she would even get herself up at that ungodly hour. Don't you have anything better to do than check on me, Licia?

  Apparently not. So what's new? You could almost hear Felicia trying to force herself awake. The well-cut blond hair, which hung straight to her shoulders, now lay flat on her pillow as a carefully manicured hand covered the ice-blue eyes in her chiseled face. Like Kate, she had the face of a model, but she was older than Kate by twelve years.

  Nothing's new, silly. And I love you. But I'm fine. I promise.

  Good. I just thought maybe you'd like me to meet you there today. There. An anonymous word for an anonymous place. And Felicia was willing to drive for two hours just to meet her friend there. And for what? Kate had to do it alone now. She knew that. You couldn't go on leaning on people forever. She'd done that for long enough.

  No, Licia, I'm okay. Besides, the store will end up divorcing you if you keep running off in the middle of the day to baby-sit for me. Felicia Norman was the fashion director of one of San Francisco's most elegant stores, and Kate had met her when she was modeling.

  Don't be silly. They don't even miss me. But they both knew that was a lie. And what Kate didn't know was that Felicia had the Norell show to oversee that afternoon. The whole winter line. And Halston in three days. Blass next week. It defied the imagination. Even Felicia's. But Kate was removed from all that now. She wasn't thinking of seasons and lines. She hadn't for months.

  How's my little friend? Felicia's voice softened when she asked, bringing a smile back to Kate's eyes. A real one this time, as she ran a hand over her full stomach. Three more weeks ' three weeks ' and Tom '

  He's fine.

  How can you be so sure it's a boy? You've even convinced me. Felicia smiled at the thought of the stack of baby clothes she'd ordered on the seventh floor last week. Anyway, it better be! They both laughed.

  It will be. Tom said And then a silence. The words had slipped out. Anyway, love.' I don't need a baby-sitter today. I promise. You can stay in San Francisco, get another two hours sleep, and go to work in peace. If I need you, I'll call. Trust me.

  Where have I heard that before? Felicia laughed a deep soft laugh into the phone. If I waited for you to call, I'd die of old age. Can I come down this weekend, by the way?

  Again? Can you stand it? She'd been there almost every weekend for the past four months. But by now Kate expected her; Felicia's inquiry and Kate's response were only a formality.

  What can I bring you?

  Nothing! Felicia Norman, if you bring me one more maternity anything, I'll scream! Where do you think I wear that stuff? To the supermarket? Lady, I live in a cowtown. You know the men wear undershirts and the women wear housecoats. That's it Kate sounded amused.

  Felicia did not That's your own goddamn fault I told you

  Oh shut up. I'm happy here. Kate was smiling to herself.

  You're nuts. It's just this nesting instinct you've got from being pregnant. Wait till the baby comes. You'll come to your senses. Felicia was counting on it. She was even keeping an eye out for available apartments. There had already been two or three gems in her neighborhood on Telegraph Hill. Kate was crazy to stay down there. But she'd come out of it The furor was already dying down. Another couple of months and she could come back in peace.

  Hey, Licia Kate looked over at the alarm clock I'd better get moving. I have a three-hour drive ahead of me. She stretched gingerly in her bed, hoping her legs wouldn't cramp and send her leaping out of bed as best she could leap.

  And that's another thing. You could stop going up there for the next month, at least until after the baby. There's no point

  Licia, I love you. Good-bye. Very gently, Kate hung up. She had heard that speech before. And she knew what she was doing. It was what she had to do. What she wanted to do. Besides, what choice did she have? How could she stop going now?

  She rolled slowly to a sitting position at the edge of the bed and took a deep breath as she looked at the mountains beyond her window. Her thoughts were years and miles away. A lifetime away.

  Tom. She said it gently. Just the one word. She wasn't even aware she'd said it aloud. Tom ' how could he not be there? Why wasn't he running his bath, or singing from the shower, teasing her from the kitchen ' was he really gone? It had been so little time since she could just call his name and hear his voice. He had been right there with her. Always. Big, blond, beautiful Tom, full of laughter and hugs, and a gift for making wonderful moments. Tom, whom she had met during her first year in college, when the team happened to be in San Francisco, and she happened to go to the game, and then happened to go to a party, and someone knew someone on the team ' madness. And luck. She had never done anything like it before. She had fallen in love with him on the spot, at eighteen. And with a football player? The idea had seemed funny to her at first A football player. But he wasn't just that. He was special. He was Tom Harper. Loving, warm, thoughtful in infinite ways. Tom, whose father had been a coal miner in Pennsylvania, and whose mother had worked as a waitress to help put him through school. Tom, who had worked nights and days and summers himself to get to college, and then had finally made it after all on a football scholarship. He had become a star. And then a pro. And then a real star. A kind of national hero. Tom Harper. And that was when she had met him. When he was a star. Tom '

  Hello, Princess. His eyes had run over her like a trickle of warm summer rain.

  Hello. She had felt so foolish. Hello ' it was all she could think of to say. She had nothing to say to him really, but something small and tight had turned over in the pit of her stomach. She had had to look away. His bright blue eyes were too much for her, the way he searched her face, the way he smiled. Meeting those eyes was like trying to stare into the sun.

  Are you from San Francisco? He had been smiling down at her from his immense height. He was a huge, powerfully built man, with the classic shape required for his profession. She was wondering what he was thinking about her. He probably thought she was ridiculous. A groupie, or just a kid.

  Yes. I'm from San Francisco. Are you? And then they both laughed, because she knew he wasn't. Everyone knew where Tom Harper was from. And the team was based in Chicago.

  Why so shy?

  I' it. oh damn. And then they had laughed, and it was better after that. They had slipped away from the party and gone out for hamburgers.

  Will your friends be upset?

  Probably. She sat at the counter on a stool next to him, swinging one long le
g, and smiling happily over her dripping hamburger. She had had a date, somewhere, back there at the party. But not anymore. She was out with Tom Harper. It was hard to get used to the idea. But he didn't seem to match the legend she had heard about. He was just a man. She liked him. But not because of who he was. Just because he was nice. No ' more than that ' but she wasn't quite sure what it was. She only knew that a strange tiny butterfly was soaring happily through her gut. It happened every time she looked at him. She wondered if he could tell.

  Do you do this often, Princess? I mean, ditch dates at parties. He looked at her sternly for a moment, and they both laughed again.

  Never. Promise.

  Better not do it to me.

  No, sir.

  It had been a night of teasing and laughter, and she had instantly felt close to him, yet humbled at the same time. He could make her feel like a little girl, but he also made her feel safe, as though she had waited all her life for him to protect her. It was a strange feeling, but she liked it. They had driven to Carmel after the hamburgers, and walked along the ocean, but he hadn't tried to make love to her. They had only walked, and held hands, and talked until the sun came up, exchanging the secrets of childhood and youth ' and wait till I tell you about '

  You're a beautiful girl, Kate. What do you want to be when you grow up? She had laughed at the question and delicately slid a handful of sand down the back of his shirt. He had retaliated in kind, and she wondered if he would kiss her, but he didn't. And she wanted desperately to kiss him. Stop that. I'm serious. What do you want to do?

  The question made her sit back with a shrug. I don't know. I just started college. I think maybe I want to major in political science, or maybe literature. You know, useful stuff like that. Who knows? I'll probably graduate and get a job selling cosmetics at Saks. Or run away, or be a ski bum, or teach school, or be a nurse or a fireman or ' hell, how did she know? He was silly.

  He was smiling at her again, that rich blue-eyed smile that melted the seat of her pants. How old are you, Kate? He was full of questions, and he looked at her again and again as though he had always known her. The questions seemed only a formality. Somehow she thought he already knew the answers.

  I was eighteen last month. And you?

  Twenty-eight, m'love. Ten years older than you are. I'm almost over the hill. In this business anyway. His face tightened as he said it.

  And when you retire?

  I'll join you selling cosmetics at Saks. She laughed at the thought. He was easily six feet four or five. The idea of Tom Harper selling anything smaller than a battleship was absurd.

  What do retired football players do?

  Get married. Have kids. Drink beer. Get fat. Sell insurance. The good things in life. He sounded half ironic, half scared, and very serious.

  Sounds terrific. She was smiling gently and looking out to sea as he put an arm around her shoulders.

  Not really. He was thinking of the part about selling insurance, and then he looked at her. Do marriage and kids sound terrific, Kate?

  She shrugged. I guess. That stuff seems a long way off to me.

  You're young. He said it so soberly that it made her laugh.

  Yes, grandfather.

  What do you really think you'll do after you graduate?

  Honestly? Go to Europe. I want to spend a couple of years over there. Kicking around. Working. Whatever comes up. I figure I'll be pretty fed up with the discipline of school by then. All that was still three years away.

  So that's what you call it. Discipline.' He grinned to himself, thinking of the slightly rowdy crowd of rich kids he had watched her arrive with at the party. They all went to Stanford. They all had money, and fancy clothes, and there had been a Morgan and a brand-new Corvette parked at the curb. Where in Europe?

  Vienna or Milan. Maybe Bologna. Maybe Munich. I haven't decided yet, but someplace small.

  Tsk.

  Oh shut up. The urge to kiss him was overwhelming again. It made her smile quietly in the night. Here she sat, virtually in the arms of Tom Harper. Half the women in the country would have drooled at the thought. And there they sat, like two kids, with his arm around her, and talking easily. Her parents would not have been thrilled. She almost laughed at the thought.

  What are your folks like? It was as though he had read her mind.

  Stuffy. But nice, I suppose. I'm an only child and they had me a little late. They expect a lot.

  And you deliver?

  Most of the time. I shouldn't though. I've given them bad habits. Now they expect me to toe the line all the time. That's part of why I want to go away for a couple of years. I might even do my junior year abroad. Or go next summer.

  Subsidized by Daddy, of course. He sounded smug, and she turned to look at him with anger in her green eyes.

  Not necessarily. I make my own money too. Actually, I'd rather pay for my own trip. If I can get a job over there.

  Sorry, Princess. I just figured. I don't know ' that whole group you came in with tonight looked pretty well-heeled. I knew the type when I was at Michigan State. All of them were from Grosse Pointe, or Scottsdale, or wherever. It's all the same thing.

  Kate nodded. She didn't disagree with him, she just didn't like being tossed into the same basket with all those other kids. But she knew what he meant. Even though she had never rebelled, that way of life didn't appeal to her much either. Everyone seemed to have so much of everything. And no texture, no pain, no questions, no qualms. They all had so much. And Kate was no exception. But at least she knew it.

  What do you mean, you make your own money? He looked amused again.

  She looked annoyed. I model.

  You do? For magazines or what? Now that was a surprise. She had the looks for it, but he just figured she didn't work. But modeling was a nice gig. He was almost impressed. He turned to look at her and the anger in her face softened.

  All kinds of stuff. I did a commercial last summer. Most of the time I just get called to do fashion shows at I. Magnin, Saks, stores like that. It's kind of a pain to go into the city just for that, but it pays decently and it gives me a little independence. And it's sort of fun sometimes. He could just see her going down the runway, half colt, half doe, tall and thin in some five-hundred-dollar dress. Or maybe they didn't have her modeling stuff like that But she had the style to pull it off. And though Tom knew little about fashion, he had guessed correctly.

  Is that what you're going to do in Europe when you finish school? Model? He looked intrigued, as he kept a warm arm around her shoulders. She was comfortable there.

  Only if the alternative is starvation. I really want to do other things.

  Like what? He pulled her closer. He seemed older and yet not older at all. And for the first time in her life, she wanted a man to make love to her. That was crazy. She was a virgin, and she didn't even know him. Not yet. But he was the kind of man you'd want to be first. She couldn't imagine him being anything but gentle and kind. Come on, Kate, what kind of other things' do you want to do in Europe? He sounded a little bit teasing, and it made her smile. She had always wanted a big brother who would sound like that

  I don't know. Work for a newspaper maybe. Or a magazine. Be a reporter. Maybe someplace like Paris or Rome. Her face lit up and he rumpled her hair.

  Listen, kid, why not settle for modeling and live like a lady? What do you want to chase around after fires and murders for? Christ, you can do that over here. In English.

  My father would have a nervous breakdown. She giggled.

  So would I. He held her close again, as though to keep her safe from unseen evil.

  You're a party pooper, Tom Harper. I'm a damned good writer. I'd be a good reporter.

  Who says you're a good writer?

  I do. And one day I'm going to write a book. Damn. She'd said it. She looked away and stopped talking.

  You're serious about that, aren't you, Kate? His voice was as soft as morning, and she nodded silently. Then maybe one day you will. He t
iptoed gently, trying not to step on any of her dreams. I used to want to write a book too. But I gave up the idea.

  Why did you do that? She was horrified, and he tried to keep his face serious. He loved her intensity.

  I gave up the idea because I can't write. Maybe one day you'll write one for me.' They sat quietly for a while, looking out to sea, enjoying the night breeze on their faces. He had lent her a spare parka, and they huddled together on the beach. It was a while before either of them spoke again.

  What do your parents want you to do? he asked.

  Later? He nodded. Oh, something pleasant A job in a museum, something at a university, or graduate school. Or best of all, find a husband. Boring stuff. What about you? What are you going to do after the newspapers stop telling us all what a fabulous football player you are? She looked like a kid as she lay on the sand, but there was a woman lurking in her eyes, and Tom Harper saw her.

  I told you. I'll retire, and we'll write that book.' She said nothing more, and they sat in silence and watched the sun come up, and then drove back to San Francisco.

  Want to have breakfast before I drop you off? They were in Palo Alto and he was already nearing her street in the little British sports car he had rented for his stay in the city.

  I should probably get back. If her mother called and learned she'd been out all night, she'd have some very fancy explaining to do, but the girls would probably cover for her. She covered for them. Two of the four were no longer virgins. And the third was doing her damnedest to change her status. Kate didn't really care or she hadn't anyway, until Tom.

  What about tonight?

  She looked crestfallen. I can't. I promised my parents I'd have dinner with them. And they've got tickets to the symphony. Afterwards? Damn, damn, damn. And then he'd be leaving town and she'd never see him again.

  There was something suddenly sad in her face and he wanted to kiss her. Not like a kid. Like a woman. He wanted to hold her close to him and feel her heart pounding against him. He wanted ' he forced the thoughts from his mind. She was too young.