“I know.” Andrew dropped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her closer. His breath stirred against her temple, unleashing a rising tide of need. “Let’s get this over with.” With a subtle movement of his broad shoulders, he nudged her in the direction of the older Winthrops.
The band segued into a classical piece reminiscent of a funeral dirge. Kat considered it an omen on her imminent meeting of the in-laws. Actually, with Andrew by her side, she wasn’t nearly as uptight as she’d anticipated.
Nodding and smiling at guests, they skirted the room.
“There’s no doubt who you look like.” Andrew was a replica of his father, except for A.W.’s gray hair and lined face—and a ruthless air mercifully absent in Andrew. Her husband might possess an aloofness, but she’d seen more than a generous amount of kindness in him, as well. A.W. didn’t look as if “kind” existed in his vocabulary.
“Yes, I’ve always been my father’s son.”
And none too pleased about it, if his tone was anything to go on. Did he base his own supposed shortcomings as a husband and father on the fact he shared similarities with his father? Kat tucked the thought away to examine later.
“Your mother looks much younger than your father.”
“Actually, only a year or so. Mother believes in aging as gracefully as financially possible. It’s the up side of keeping one of the finest plastic surgeons on retainer.”
As they navigated around a small cluster of people, Andrew’s hand bumped against her silk-clad breast. An instinctive and instantaneous response rippled through her, tightening her nipple into a bud of want and anticipation. Had he tensed as well?
“Oh. What’s the down side?” She managed to keep her voice steady.
A shadow of a smile softened the hard line of his mouth. “It costs the old man a hell of a lot of money.”
The older couple awaited Kat and Andrew—regents receiving peasants. Kat quelled the urge to genuflect before their haughty bearing.
“Good evening, Mother. Father.” Andrew’s arm tightened around Kat’s shoulders until it was as rigid as his tone. “Kat, I’d like you to meet my parents, A.W. and Margaret Winthrop.”
No hint of softness cushioned the steel of A.W.’s gray gaze. “You seem to have a penchant for scandal, girl. That’s not something we Winthrops embrace.”
“Consider yourself lucky, darling.” Andrew retorted, earning himself a scowl from his father and a star from Kat.
A waiter paused at the group, proffering a tray of canapés. Kat sighed and loaded up a small napkin. Good Lord, what she wouldn’t do for a pint of Chunky Monkey right now. Instead she popped an anchovy into her mouth.
Margaret Winthrop stared down the length of her surgically perfected nose, a chilly smile revealing even, white teeth. She fairly dripped West Palm, understated elegance, from her perfectly coifed blond hair to her designer gown. “Wherever did you find that dress, darling? It’s so…well, quaint.”
And welcome to the family. Kat had spent the better portion of a paycheck on her dress, determined to uphold her end of the bargain with panache. She’d help Andrew secure his partnership, but she wouldn’t be a doormat for these people with more money than manners.
Andrew began to say something, but she silenced him with a slight nudge.
“There’s a great thrift store near my old house. Maybe we can go shopping together sometime.” Andrew’s arm, slung across her shoulder, relaxed considerably, and in that instant she knew everything was okay. Whatever this evening brought, they’d face it together.
Margaret’s nose wrinkled as if she’d caught a whiff of something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “I don’t think so. My schedule’s terribly busy.”
Far too busy to make time for a little boy with a string of nannies.
Andrew dropped Kat a lazy wink of approval before turning to face his parents. “Kat’s got a great nose for a bargain. It’s one of the things I love about her.” He squeezed her close, planting a kiss on the end of her nose. “Isn’t it, Bunny?”
She recognized Andrew’s act for what it was, nonetheless, his declaration of love set her heart rate to double time. “Oh, Muffin…” She didn’t have to try to sound breathless. She was.
“For God’s sake…” A.W. grumbled.
Margaret sniffed an admonishment. “Really, Andrew! You seem to have forgotten yourself.”
“Kat tends to affect me that way.” On the Richter scale, his cavalier grin registered a ten. The husky note in his bourbon voice stroked her like an arousing caress.
She liked him on a good day. When he switched on the devoted husband routine, he turned lethal. She munched another cracker under her in-laws’ disapproving stares.
A.W. and Margaret prepared to excuse themselves and Kat prepared a sigh of relief at their impending departure. All the preparation proved for naught. Claudia wafted over on a cloud of perfume and the arm of a bespectacled man.
Kat swallowed her sigh, bracing herself for round two. Claudia exchanged perfunctory kisses with A.W. and Margaret, cooing, “A.W., you’re looking as handsome as ever. And, Margaret, you’re stunning tonight.”
In the momentary lull, Kat heard the opening strains of “The Party’s Over.” She couldn’t check a grin. Even if tonight turned out to be a total wash, the band leader had impeccable timing.
Ignoring Kat, Claudia eyed Andrew as if he were her next meal, her lips puckering into a practiced pout. “And you’re certainly looking well.”
Kat noted with satisfaction that Andrew didn’t show even a hint of interest in his former girlfriend. His eyes reflected only a cool remoteness.
“Marriage agrees with me, Claudia.” Reaching past her proffered pout, Andrew shook hands with her date. “Glad you could make it, Trent. I’d like to introduce my wife, Kat.”
Andrew turned, his smile tugging at her. “Kat, Trent Braxton and Claudia van Dierling.”
Murmuring a greeting, Trent retreated, looking for all the world as if he’d rather be anywhere than in the middle of the unfolding power play. Kat empathized, but she’d be damned if she’d let these people intimidate her.
Claudia struck a model pose, bony hipbones evident beneath her dress, her store-bought breasts jutting at Kat’s eye level. “So, you’re the little woman.”
“That’s me. And I’ve heard so much about you, Claudette.”
“Claudia.” Claudia and Margaret corrected in unison, matching frowns marring the perfection of their respective brows.
“Oh, of course. Claudia.”
“Exactly how did you and Andrew meet? It seems as if one day he and I were an item and the next the two of you were married.”
“We’d all be terribly interested to hear,” Margaret chimed in, glancing significantly toward Claudia. “We expected, well, it was certainly a surprise to learn Andrew had married a stranger.”
A.W. stood silent, a spectator enjoying the sharks circling.
“Love at first sight,” Andrew smiled.
Kat had no idea Andrew could sound so…sappy. “I suppose I just knocked him off his feet.”
Kat and Andrew exchanged a smile borne of a shared experience. He obviously remembered his landing in the sand as clearly as she did.
“How clichéd,” Claudia drawled.
“It’s a good thing you and I were just pals, Claudia, because this woman has left me breathless from the moment I met her.” Andrew spoke to Claudia, but he gazed adoringly at Kat.
Despite the audience and the playacting, the heat in his eyes left her shaken.
Claudia’s eyes narrowed to catlike slits. “Well, since Andrew and I are pals, perhaps you and I can do lunch one day.” Claudia tilted her head, pretending to study Kat before she lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “I’d be delighted to introduce you to an excellent plastic surgeon.”
A retort trembled on the tip of Kat’s tongue, but Andrew jumped into the verbal fray ahead of her. “I can assure you, Claudia, every inch of Kat is perfect.” Steel threaded his s
mooth tone.
Kat laid her hand on the rigid muscles of Andrew’s arm, thanking him with a slight squeeze. She’d made her own way for a long time, depending only on herself. It felt good to have Andrew standing beside her. Somehow it felt right.
Claudia shared an arch look with Margaret, clearly implying that Kat’s lack of inches could use some help.
Trent Braxton shuffled uncomfortably while A.W. nursed a drink and a smirk.
Mustering a confiding smile, Kat leaned toward Claudia. “It’s such a relief you’re taking this so well, Claudine, with you and Andrew being pals and everything. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She lowered her voice to the same stage whisper Claudia had affected earlier. “Mean-spiritedness can be such an unattractive trait, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely, my dear.” Claudia’s tight smile promised retribution while conceding Kat had backed her in a corner.
One second Kat was watching Claudia’s feline snarl and the next she felt a thud against her back as an overenthusiastic dancing couple bounced off her. The two canapés sailed out of her hand as if flung on a planned trajectory. Everything slowed down to slow motion, just like in a bad dream. She watched in horrified fascination as the caviar-covered crackers soared straight toward Claudia.
Plop.
With unerring accuracy one landed between her eyes. The other smacked her chest. Fish roe slid south, disappearing between her two mounds of surgically perfected breasts.
Trent broke the silence. “Good shot!”
Claudia, wearing fish eggs and dripping venom, silenced him with a murderous look before rounding on Kat. “You…you…moron! How dare you attack me like that.”
“I’m sorry. It was an accident.” Kat tried not to laugh as she apologized.
Someone pounded a choking A.W. on the back.
“A couple bumped into her, Claudia. We’ll take care of the cleaning bill,” Andrew offered.
Trent pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the murky mess on her chest. Claudia slapped his hand away and turned to wreak further verbal havoc on Kat.
Andrew tugged at Kat. “And now, if you’ll excuse us…they’re playing our song.”
Kat laughed with delight at Andrew’s escape tactic as he pulled her into his arms, settled her against his hard angles and whisked her away from the mess. “Since when is the orchestral rendition of ‘Old Man River’ our song?”
A devilish grin echoed her amusement. “As of about one minute ago, when I decided you’d been subjected to enough nastiness.”
Held close against his lean body, awareness of every thoroughly male inch of him tingled through her. The play of sinew and muscle against her palm, her hips and thighs, her aching breasts. The sound of his breathing mingled with her own, playing like a sensuous symphony in her head. Kat trembled with the hot heat that flooded her and pooled into a slick wetness at the juncture of her thighs. She ached for this man, and this man alone.
Concern darkened his eyes to storm gray as he sobered. “Are you okay?” His hand tightened on her waist.
No. She wanted to shout at him. You could break my heart if I let you. Actually, he was well on his way without her permission.
And she’d better remember where she was and her role for the evening.
“I’m fine. It really was an accident, you know.” Kat smiled adoringly at Andrew and picked an imaginary speck of lint off his lapel for the benefit of their guests. “Admit it. I did you a big, big favor when I saved you from Claudia. She’s dreadful.”
Andrew pulled her closer still, the rush of charged sensuality sizzling between them echoed in the pounding of his heart beneath her cheek and the hard ridge pressed intimately against her. “Mmm. I suppose I owe you a favor in return.”
A wolf had jumped into the clothing of the safe, although sexy, sheep she’d married. Short of dying from desire, which seemed imminent, she pretended not to hear his suggestive comment.
“What in the world did you ever see in her?” Claudia’s surgically enhanced bosoms and jutting hipbones came to mind. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.” Kat peered past his shoulder. “It’s your turn to meet the in-laws. Dad and Phoebe just arrived. And let me tell you, Phoebe elevates bitchiness to new heights.”
“GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT.”
Rand Hamilton possessed the handshake of a dead fish—limp and slimy—Andrew decided, fighting the urge to wipe his palm down the side of his trousers.
“We would have come to the wedding, too, but we weren’t invited.” Phoebe Hamilton’s tone dripped with saccharine sweetness.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Phoebe. But we wanted to keep it simple.”
Andrew admired the way Kat handled Phoebe, Claudia and his mother—graciousness with an edge. An exceptional woman, his temporary wife.
“I must say, you two are quite the odd couple. Katrina’s always been somewhat…shall we say, eccentric,” Rand drawled down the fine line of his nose.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You know exceptional people often are.” Andrew’s look dared Rand to dispute him.
“Handsome, rich and clever. However did you manage, darling? Well, never mind. Let’s just hope you can keep this one.” Phoebe smiled, a barracuda swathed in silk as she raised a glass of champagne in a mocking salute.
Rand Hamilton’s wife did elevate bitchiness to new heights. Made Andrew reconsider that there just might be someone for everyone in the world.
Color washed Kat’s face. She might have bargained a name for her baby, but when they divorced she’d face a host of unkind comments if Phoebe proved any barometer.
Moving behind her, Andrew bracketed Kat’s shoulders with his hands and eased her against his chest, trying to absorb some of the tension radiating from her. Her untamed hair tickled against his chin, and he breathed in the citrus shampoo she favored.
“Frankly, Mrs. Hamilton, I’m honored a woman of Kat’s caliber was ever interested in me.” Sincerity marked each word, scorching him with the truth. He’d been married to his career for a long time, and he’d lived with his emotional detachment even longer. Kat stirred feelings in him he thought had withered and died long ago.
Beneath his fingertips, some of the tension eased from Kat’s shoulders.
“We trust you don’t have any plans to embezzle,” Rand observed with a clever smile.
“Or run off with your secretary,” Phoebe added.
Andrew felt Kat’s flinch.
Phoebe portrayed contrived dismay. “Oh dear. I guess you didn’t tell your Andy about Nick taking his secretary with him when he skipped the country with his millions. I never would have mentioned it had I known.”
“Nick Devereaux is a son of a bitch and deserves to have his ass kicked one day.” Andrew’s tone left no doubt he knew just the man for the job. And he meant every word.
Rand and Phoebe Hamilton gaped.
Kat gasped and muttered, “Take a number.”
Andrew continued. “I’d appreciate it if you’d bear in mind that I don’t like being compared to Nick. In fact I don’t particularly like to hear his name mentioned.” He smiled his most charming smile to the speechless couple. “If it’s all the same to you, of course.”
His gaze locked with Kat’s and he felt ten feet tall at the surprise and admiration reflected in her eyes. Nick wasn’t just a jerk, he was a stupid jerk.
“Look, honey, here comes Juliana. I guess she’s over that highly contagious strep throat if Eddie and Bitsy brought her, huh?” Kat asked with feigned concern.
Juliana was as healthy as a horse, make that a small pony, but he noted the look that passed between Rand and Phoebe.
“Actually, I think she’s still a little under the weather, but the baby-sitter backed out at the last minute.” He leaned in toward the Hamiltons confidingly. “Good help is so hard to find.”
Now there was a topic Phoebe could relate to—woes with the domestic help. Fortunately she was too repulsed by a sick child to embrace that soapbox. “Absolutely. R
and, darling, I believe I see Senator Bertram over there. If you’ll excuse us…”
Rand and Phoebe beat a hasty retreat at the threat of impending germs.
“Well done, my dear. Masterful, in fact.”
Kat glowed at the compliment.
Juliana concluded her march across the room—a six-year-old with a mission. She stopped before them, curiosity dancing in her brown eyes.
“Hi, there. Everything okay?” he asked. Juliana stared at him as if he were a bug under a microscope.
“I’m not sure yet. Could you pick me up, Uncle Andrew?” Juliana’s thin, reedy voice held a note of worry.
For a split second, Andrew looked to Kat for insight. She shook her head, shrugging her puzzlement.
“Sure. I can pick you up.” He reassured Juliana as he hoisted her in his arms. “What’s the matter?”
Juliana’s gaze darted between him and Kat.
“Do I need to leave, sweetie, so you can talk to Uncle Andrew alone?” Kat offered softly.
Juliana weighed the question. “No, it’s okay.” With a determined thrust of her little chin, she began tugging at Andrew’s shirt.
Andrew started in surprise, nearly dropping her.
“I knew Mommy was wrong. Daddy too, ’cause he said she might be right.” A snaggletoothed grin split her face. “All your buttons are still on real tight. Mommy told Daddy you weren’t buttoned up so tight since you’d married Aunt Kat, but you are too.” She gave his shirt another yank to prove her point.
Andrew threw back his head and laughed, uncaring of the curious glances sent his way. At his shoulder, Kat leaned against his arm and chuckled. Juliana giggled for good measure.
Although Bitsy’s runaway mouth had caught up with her, he realized it was true. If Kat walked out tomorrow—make that when she walked out in the next year—he wasn’t so sure he’d ever be the same man he’d been before.
He wasn’t so sure that’s what he wanted anymore. From the moment he’d spotted her behind the sculpture in the lobby of his office building, his life hadn’t been the same. He’d never been one to crave excitement, but since Kat, the world somehow seemed brighter, more vivid. Until Kat, he’d lived life though a filter.
New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess Page 23
