Ryan turned on the sink’s cold tap, cupped his hands to catch the water and splashed it liberally on his face. He nearly yelped from the impact. That wasn’t just cold water—it was liquid ice. It figured. Just when he’d wanted to be ready for deep sleep, he’d doused his head with ice water. It fit the pattern of the day.
He lifted his head and stared at the reflection of his dripping face in the mirror. He needed a shave, as usual. He grabbed a towel and mopped up his chin and forehead. There was no point in shaving till morning. His whiskers posed no risk to Kit Kendrick’s delicate skin. Miss Kendrick had armored herself with flannel and goose down. Not that she’d needed them, because she’d also protected herself with her own misguided good intentions, and. he’d never get past those. And he didn’t want to, either. He just wanted out of the entire situation.
He picked up his toothbrush in one fist, the toothpaste in the other, and five times more toothpaste than he needed squirted out onto the bristles. He stared at the toothpaste oozing over both ends of his toothbrush. This was ridiculous. That redhead had him so mixed up, he couldn’t even brush his teeth without making a mess.
He carefully washed the excess toothpaste down the drain and set about brushing his teeth. He’d just take it slow and easy. No need to hurry back into the bedroom. He’d give Kit time to get settled in bed. With any luck at all, she’d be asleep, and he wouldn’t have to deal with her until morning. In fact, that was a good idea. He’d hang out in here and take his time. She’d looked tired enough to drop off to sleep right away.
He shucked out of his clothes and pulled on the sweatpants Kit had left out for him on the shelf next to the bathtub. Whose sweats were they? Not Warren’s. Warren was about his height, and the pant legs on this pair ended a good four inches above his ankles. Now what? It was too cold to sleep on the floor in his shorts. He’d have to go with the sweats. So what if he looked ridiculous? It couldn’t be any more absurd than pretending to be married.
He rummaged in his bag for a T-shirt. No sense in even trying to get into the sweatshirt if the pants were this small. He pulled the shirt over his head, gathered up his clothes and bag, and opened the bathroom door.
Kit was sitting in the straight-backed chair. She stood up as he crossed the room.
“I thought you’d be in bed asleep by now,” he said, putting down his clothes and suitcase.
“I was waiting for you, because…” Her eyes drifted down to his feet.
He looked down at his feet and back up at Kit. “What is it?”
“Sorry about the pants. I didn’t realize that you were so much taller than Jeremy.”
“Who’s Jeremy?”
“An ex-fiancé? You mean yours?” he asked, a sudden vision coming to him of someone else kissing and caressing her the way he had today and Kit responding to that other man, melting into his arms. He gave his head a shake to get the image out of his mind.
“You don’t have to sound so stunned,” she snapped at him.
“I’m not stunned. From what you said, it sounded like more than one, so I thought you might be talking about Lindsay.”
“I know you have an image of me as a spinster desperate to find someone who’ll marry me.” She flounced across the room to the bed and stripped off the bedspread.
“That’s not true,” he protested. He followed her to the bed. Good thing she didn’t have an inkling of some of the images he’d had of her tonight.
“I’ll have you know,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “that I could be married right now, if I wanted to be.” She stripped off the top blanket.
“I believe you. But I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape. I’m the one who has to go around looking like a clown in Jeremy’s pants.”
She paused in her bed-stripping and looked up at him, then down at his bare ankles. A smile threatened to break through. She bit her lip, but her eyes gave her away. “You don’t look like a clown at all, more like a toreador.” She tossed a blanket at him.
He caught the blanket and held it up in front of him. “Is this for sleeping under or for tantalizing the bulls?”
“We’re temporarily out of bulls, I’m afraid. So you’ll have to use it for sleeping.”
He grabbed up the nearest pillow and scouted out the floor for the best spot.
“Ryan?” Her voice had a tentative catch in it. He looked at her.
“What I said before, about wanting the bed? I wasn’t thinking too clearly. You have to drive back to San Francisco tomorrow. It can be dangerous enough driving over the pass in winter without doing it on little or no sleep.”
“I won’t mind the floor,” he said. “I wasn’t being too reasonable before, because I was still pretty irritated about this whole fiasco. I’m over that now, and I’d feel like a louse making you sleep on the floor.”
“Well, actually,” she said, her gaze sliding away from him and back again.
He folded his arms around the blanket and the pillow. Funny thing, he knew that look. He’d met her for the first time maybe eleven hours ago, and her expressions were already familiar. “Now what?” he asked with mock severity. “You want me to sleep in a snowdrift?”
She smiled. “Don’t be…” she stopped and bit her lip. “I think we can share the bed. You take that blanket, and I’ll take this one.” She lifted the second blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her, bathrobe and all. “And you can have the bedspread, too.” She lay down on the bed.
“Sounds like a plan.” He dropped the pillow back into its place and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He gazed at her as she snuggled in her blanket, her red hair spread out on the pillow.
She looked up at him. “Am I taking up too much of the bed? Here, I’ll move over.” She shifted toward the edge of the bed.
“Don’t move. There’s plenty of room,” he lied, straightfaced. “I’ll get the light.” He switched off the overhead and felt his way onto the bed in the dark. The mattress bowed under his weight and Kit’s well-padded body rolled against his as he settled back onto the pillow.
The darkness enclosed them, and as they stopped rustling the covers of the bed, the perfect silence of the snowcovered night settled around them. Now, at last, he’d get some sleep and forget about the disasters of the day. He could feel Kit holding perfectly still next to him. “You comfortable?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.” The silence descended again—then she asked, “Am I crowding you?”
“No, not at all. There’d be more room if the bed was completely horizontal. I think I created a vertical effect when I got in.”
“Yes, I think the tilt sign is still lit,” she said, and giggled.
Now, that was something he hadn’t heard from her. There was nothing quite like the sound of a woman’s giggle in the dark. It was a compelling sound, and made him think he’d like to hear her giggle again, maybe even laugh, and then sigh as she pressed her—whoa, he’d better stop right there. What was it about Kit Kendrick that drew him into these erotic fantasies? She’d caused him nothing but trouble, but he kept drifting into these thoughts about her. He shifted restlessly to his side.
“Having trouble sleeping?” Kit asked softly.
“I’m usually out as soon as my head hits the pillow,” he said. “But the circumstances are a little unusual.”
“I know. I could hardly keep my eyes open, and now I can’t get them to stay closed. Maybe we could…” She didn’t finish her sentence.
He immediately tensed. Now what was she up to? “Maybe we could what?”
“Talk. Talking in the dark usually makes me sleepy.”
He let the tension drain out of his muscles. “Talk. Sure.” He waited, but she said nothing. After the silence strung out for a full half minute, he said, “Tell me about Jeremy.”
“Do I hear regret?”
“No. Or at least no regrets about not marrying him. More regret that I let it get so far. He really wanted marriage, and I let him sweep me along into an engagement, even though it wasn’t what I really wanted.”
“What about the other fiancés? Did they sweep you off your feet, too?”
“There weren’t any others. At least, not official ones. After Jeremy I learned how to break it off before it got to that point. But a few of my old boyfriends and some of Lindsay’s knew one another, and they would get together sometimes. They called themselves ‘The Fiancés,’ just for fun.”
“A very elite support group.”
“More for wounded egos than broken hearts—except, maybe Jeremy. They’re mostly all married now.”
“And so is Lindsay. That makes you the last holdout.”
“Not a bad epitaph.” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“Only you’d have to share it with me,” he said, smiling in turn.
“Really?” She shifted a little in the bed. He had her interest now. “Why don’t you want to get married?”
“It just doesn’t fit with my life plan.”
“What’s a life plan?”
“You don’t know? I’d have thought someone like you…” he hesitated. He’d better watch how he put this. She seemed to be sensitive on some issues.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“I understand from Jeff that you’ve been pretty successful as an industrial designer. That doesn’t happen on its own. So, I assumed you had a life plan.”
“Maybe I do, only I didn’t know it,” she said. “Tell me about it. What’s your life plan?”
He folded his hands behind his head and stared into the darkness where the ceiling would be, if he could see it “It’s the steps I’ve taken, and will continue to take, to realize my dream.”
“You’re really making me pry this out of you, aren’t you. Come on, fess up. What’s your dream?”
Why had he started this conversation? He never discussed this with anyone. “I’m going to start my own business.”
That set up a lot of rustling on her side of the bed. “Really?” she said. She’d rolled onto her side and her voice came directly into his ear. “But you don’t have to be single to run your own business.”
“Some don’t, but I want to get there quickly and without compromising my vision. I’ve moved around a lot. Each time has meant a big promotion, but moving is hard to do if you’re married. Soon I’ll have the experience to convince investors that I’m a good risk. Also, I’ll have a good bit of capital of my own to put up, because I haven’t had to support a wife and family.”
“Okay, point taken. But what about when you finally. realize all your ambitions, what then?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see when it happens.” He stirred under the blankets. He never really pictured the future beyond the time when he’d made a success of his own company. That part of his life was too hazy and distant to imagine.
“Until then, you’re a confirmed bachelor—” she paused and yawned “—but I don’t imagine that means you’re celibate.”
“Well—no,” he said. This didn’t seem the time or place to be discussing his celibacy, or lack thereof. It was about time to shift the focus away from himself. “What about you?”
She yawned again. “What about me? Am I celibate?”
“I meant, why don’t you want to marry? I assume you’re no more celibate than I am.”
“But I am.”
That brought his head right off the pillow. “What?”
“I said that, unlike you, I’m celibate.”
He lowered his head back onto his pillow. Her statement didn’t jibe with his sense of the woman he’d kissed that afternoon. “But, why?”
She yawned mightily. “Um, sorry, I can’t stop yawning. Why? Simple. I like my independence.”
“I don’t see how that’s a problem.”
“You don’t? Well…” Her voice drifted off.
“Kit?” he prompted.
“I don’t want to fall in love, because if I do I’ll lose my independence. And I’m not going to have sex with someone I don’t love, any more than I’m going to marry someone I don’t love. So…”
“So you’re both single and celibate.”
“Mmm,” she said, her voice all muzzy. “Ironic, isn’t it? We’re two people who plan never to get married, and here we are pretending to have done just that.”
“Ironic, yes, but more than that—unbelievable.” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “I think you’re taking this independence thing to an extreme. You’re a warm and passionate woman. Why deny yourself what’s clearly part of your nature?”
She made no reply. Maybe he’d gotten too personal. He’d only spoken the truth, but they were virtual strangers. Funny that they could hardly know each other and yet exchange such confidences while lying next to each other in the dark. “Kit?” he ventured.
No response. The sound of her breathing came to him soft and steady across the brief dark space between them. She was asleep.
He reached out his arm to shake her and checked himself just in time. Instead, he gripped the bedspread and pulled it over both of them. As he lay back on the pillow, he grinned to himself. It was the first time in his life he’d ever wanted to wake up a woman sleeping in the same bed with him so they could talk.
But she was wrong about herself. They’d talk about it later, maybe tomorrow.
Kit woke to the sound of Ryan’s voice and fought without success to open her eyes. She must have drifted off while he was talking, because she’d lost the thread of the conversation. What was he saying? She stopped struggling to force her eyelids open and let his words seep into her brain.
“Kit? I think you’d better wake up. We want to make an early start.”
What? Her eyes snapped open without any effort. The room was bathed in gray morning light. Ryan, fully dressed, but with black hair still wet from his shower, stood by the bed.
“It’s morning,” she said, her voice husky from sleep.
He grinned at her. “This is real progress. Her eyes are open, and she knows what time of day it is.”
“I thought you were talking to me.”
“I was. I’ve been talking to you for two minutes, trying to get you to wake up.”
“I mean…” She stopped. She’d fallen asleep while he was talking to her. She could almost recall what he’d been saying. His words hovered tantalizingly on the fringes of her mind.
“I can see you’re not a morning person he said.
She tried to push herself to a sitting position, but the layers of nightgown, bathrobe and blanket hampered her movements. “I hate that phrase. Do I stop being a person just because it’s morning?”
His eyes crinkled in a smile. “It describes your preference, not your being.”
She wrestled with the blanket until one edge came free and let her sit upright. “But it doesn’t. I like mornings very much. I just don’t like to leap out of bed and be all active and hearty in the mornings.”
Her hair fell over one side of her face, and she fingercombed it with both hands to get it out of the way. What had Ryan been saying last night? It almost came to her. They were talking about marriage…
“Kit?” Ryan said.
She glanced up at him.
“You do have to get a move on if we’re going to make it to the airport in time.”
“That’s all right. I can take the later flight.”
“I didn’t mean you. Jeff and Lindsay need to catch the early flight to Los Angeles to make their connection to Mexico.”
“They’re going to Mexico?”
“I know it’s confusing, but you might remember that they’re the real newlyweds, and they’re going to honeymoon in Mexico.”
She struggled to get free of the blanket. “You don’t have to talk to me like that. I know they’re the ones who got married, but no one mentioned a honeymoon.” She finally freed herself from the tangled covers and got up from the bed, only to stumble on the hem of her bathrobe. She staggered, trying to get her balance.
Ryan put out a hand to steady her and stopped her just short of careening into his chest. She gazed up into his face and caught the spicy scent of his shaving soap. It came back to her then, everything he’d said last night. She’d heard him, but she’d been too tired to answer. He’d said she was warm and passionate.
He cocked his head to one side. “What is it?”
“What is what?”
“You’re looking at me funny.”
He’d said it was wrong for her to deny her nature. “Sorry. I just remembered…” She left the sentence unfinished and took a step back, keeping her gaze fastened on his face.
“You just remembered that we’re supposed to be married? Good. Did you also remember that we can stop pretending as soon as we get out of here? So why don’t you run into the bathroom and get ready? Then we can go downstairs for breakfast together for our last public appearance as newly weds.”
“I can’t do that,” she said.
“You have to.” He consulted his watch. “We have to be out of here in forty-five minutes.”
“If you were my real husband, you’d know that I never, ever eat breakfast. No one expects me to do anything but show up in time to leave.”
“If I were your real husband, I’d see to it that you reformed your eating habits. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“You know, one day you’ll make some lucky woman a terrific mother. Now, run along so I can get ready.” She turned away and pretended to busy herself getting clothes out of her bag. The bedroom door clicked softly behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Ryan was gone. Good. It had been too disorienting to have him standing so close to her while his words from last night echoed in her head. If those had been his real words. Maybe she’d dreamed the whole thing.
Kit zipped her traveling bag closed and turned to survey the room. She hadn’t left anything behind that she could see, but the bed definitely would not do. It looked like two people had slept in it, but two very separate people—not a honeymoon couple.
She crossed to the bed, pulled the bedspread back and unfurled the blanket she’d cocooned herself in. Just as she spread the blanket on the bed, there was a knock on the door.
Nice of Ryan to knock first, but if anyone saw him they’d think it pretty strange that the new groom had to knock on his own bedroom door.
“Come in,” she called.
Mary opened the door partway and peeked in. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning to you, too,” Kit replied, putting as much brightness into her voice as she could. She wasn’t ready for a tête-à-tête with the one person in the world who’d always seen right through her. She crossed to the door and opened it wide.
Mary came all the way into the room and folded Kit into a warm embrace. Kit hugged her back.
“Ryan is downing his last cup of coffee and is hurrying Jeff along with him, so I thought I’d pop up here to see you before he whisks you away.” She crossed to the straight-backed chair by the window and perched on the edge.
“I’m sorry to rush off like this,” Kit said.
Mary waved a hand at her. “You want your privacy. I’d be surprised if you stayed.”
Kit moved back to the bed and picked up the second blanket.
“Don’t bother with the bed. My housekeeper will see to it.”
“Just let me do this part,” Kit said, straightening the second blanket on top of the first. Sitting down and facing Mary posed too great a challenge. Yesterday, with everyone else around, was manageable, but on her own she-didn’t trust herself not to give away the truth.
“I can’t tell you how much you surprised me yesterday,” Mary said.
Kit picked up the bedspread. Mary had no idea how surprised she’d been herself yesterday to find herself married. “I’m sorry we dropped it like that. I didn’t want to tell you that way.”
“Don’t fret about it. I would have been surprised no matter how gently you broke it to me.”
“I must seem as if I don’t know my own mind, since I’ve always made such a big thing about never getting married.”
“No, it wasn’t that at all. I knew you’d marry when you found the right man. It’s just that I always expected that Lindsay would be the one to elope.”
Kit froze. “What?” she said before she could stop herself. She turned to face Mary, leaving the spread in a heap on the bed.
“Lindsay’s so impulsive. Always has been. She probably would have gotten into even more trouble than she did in her terrible teens if you hadn’t been there to stop her.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. I never stopped Lindsay. I might have slowed her down a couple of times, but that’s all.” And yesterday she hadn’t even been able to do that much, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she had, because Mary had expected Lindsay to elope. The lies, the pretending, had all been completely unnecessary.
Mary folded her hands in her lap. “I always pictured giving you a nice wedding—nothing ostentatious, I know you’d hate that, but nice, anyway. Perhaps that’s simply because I promised your mother I would.”
Promised her mother? Kit sat down slowly on the end of the bed. “But you never met my mother. At least not until she was in the hospital, and by then she was in a coma.”
Mary gave a short, self-conscious laugh. “I suppose you’re going to think I’m a little strange, but I’ve had many conversations with your mother over the years. It seemed to me that being dead was no barrier to worrying about how your child was turning out.”
Kit leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “What did you talk about?”
“I don’t know. Just markers along the way—your getting good grades, your new boyfriends, your summer jobs. The day you won the Langton Prize was a proud one for us, I’ll tell you. A four-year full scholarship to Stanford—quite a remarkable achievement. Though you know Warren and I would have gladly paid for your college.”
“I know, but you and Warren paid for quite enough over the years,” Kit replied quickly. This was old ground between them, and they didn’t need to go over it again. “So you only told her the good stuff, huh? What about the time I got suspended?”
Mary gave her a no-nonsense look. “We both know that whole escapade was Lindsay’s doing, and you took the blame for it so she wouldn’t be expelled, because it would have been her third suspension that year.”
Kit could only stare. So Mary had known the truth all along. She really had never been able to get anything past her. Was it possible that she’d succeeded this once? Mary gave no sign that she thought Kit was lying about having married Ryan. She really did have to get out of here as soon as possible, because if Mary hadn’t seen through her so far, she would soon enough.
She made a display of looking at her wristwatch. “Gosh, look at the time.” She stood up. “I’m sorry we have to leave so soon. When are you and Warren coming back to San Francisco?”
Mary rose to her feet slowly. “In a few days. Do you have plans for Friday night? I’d love it if you two could come for dinner. I promise I’ll invite only a few close friends, just to introduce Ryan.”
Mary loved to entertain. A few close friends meant a sitdown dinner for twelve. Kit summoned up a smile. “That would be great. Let me consult with Ryan and let you know.” By Friday she and Ryan would be safely separated and on the way to divorce.
Mary opened her arms wide and Kit stepped into her embrace. Mary pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Ryan is absolutely perfect for you. I know you’ll be very happy together.”
What could she say to that? She plastered the newlywed smile on her face again and hugged Mary once more. She’d completely deceived Mary for the first time in her life, but she’d never do it again. Never.
She pulled away from their embrace and looked around the room. “I think I have everything.” She picked up her overnight bag. “Let’s go find my husband.”
They made their way downstairs. Ryan was waiting for them in the front hall, managing somehow or other not to look impatient. He even seemed glad to see her.
“There you are,” he said, smiling. “All ready?”
She nodded and dropped her gaze. If he knew that this charade had been completely pointless, he’d be furious— and have every right, to be. Guilt was her least favorite emotion, and this morning she had it in spades.
Jeff came in through the front door. She could see Ryan’s car sitting in the drive with its trunk open before Jeff closed the door behind him. “Here,” Jeff said, reaching for her case, “I’ll take that.” He disappeared out the front door with it.
Lindsay sailed down the stairs. “Here’s your coat,” she said, holding out Kit’s winter coat.
Ryan took it from Lindsay, held it open for Kit to slip into and trailed his fingers along her jawline as he settled the coat around her shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She glanced up at him. “Yes, perfect.” What was one more lie on top of all the others she’d told this weekend? Ryan had been basically very decent about the whole thing. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d played along. She could barely face him, knowing that there’d been no need for the pretense in the first place. Thank goodness for all the bustle of departure. “Are we ready to go?”
Warren emerged from the living room holding a camera. “Don’t leave yet. Not before I get you on film.”
“Dad,” Lindsay moaned, “we don’t have time for photography.”
“Of course you do,” Warren replied. “Come on, let’s go outside,” he said, and ushered everyone out the front door into the crisp winter morning air.
“Warren takes photographs of every family event,” Mary explained to Ryan. “We’ve all come to believe that if it isn’t in the family album, then it didn’t happen.”
Kit hunched her shoulders inside her winter coat. It was horrible to contemplate that this was one event that hadn’t happened, and it could end up in the album anyway. No, she’d see to it that even if the photo was printed, it would never be placed on those precious pages.
“Stand over there.” Warren waved them toward a curve in the front drive where the caretaker’s snowblower had recently piled some of last night’s snowfall into a tall drift.
They obligingly placed themselves where Warren indicated. He looked at them through the camera’s viewfinder while Mary, Lindsay and Jeff stood nearby and watched. Lindsay, in particular, seemed to be enjoying herself. Just wait until she got Lindsay alone and told her what Mary had said—and she’d add a few choice observations of her. own, too.
“Kit,” Warren called to her, “you look like a suspect in a police lineup. Come on, you’re the bride. Let’s see a smile.”
Ryan slipped his arm around her shoulders and whispered, “Say cheese.”
She forced her face into the shape of a smile. If Ryan could be such a good sport, so could she.
Warren clicked the shutter of the camera, then held up one finger, as he always did. “One more, please, just in case. Why don’t you kiss your bride, Ryan? That would make a great shot.”
Kit stiffened. They could get out of this by pleading shortness of time. But Ryan was already turning her to face him.
“We don’t absolutely have to do this, you know,” she whispered to him.
“Why not?” he replied quietly. “Besides, I think this is where I came in. You kissed me near this very spot yesterday. Now it’s my turn.”
He lifted her chin with his fingers and bent his head toward her, watching her all the while. She couldn’t hold his intent gaze and closed her eyes to blank out the sight. She’d simply hold perfectly still. After all, they were merely posing for a photograph, and…His lips touched hers, pressing a welcome warmth against her own winterchilled mouth. He moved his mouth slowly against hers. She leaned toward him, suddenly, inexplicably yearning for more.
He slid his hand from her chin to the back of her head and wrapped the other arm around her waist, but she hardly needed to be held closer, because she was already pressing closer herself, slipping her hands inside his open coat and placing her palms flat against his chest. The heat of his skin seeping through the wool of his sweater matched the warmth of his mouth against hers. And still it wasn’t enough.
“Okay, you two,” Warren called. “You can break it up now. I’ve.used up all the film.”
Ryan lifted his head, breaking their kiss, but still held her tightly. Kit opened her eyes and blinked slowly. What had happened to her? She’d forgotten what she was doing.
“See? What did I tell you?” Ryan said, smiling down into her face with all his dark-eyed handsomeness. “You’re too warm and passionate to live a celibate life.”