Kit tried to catch the heavy front door of her apartment building before it crashed shut, but her timing was off, and it slammed with a thunk. Predictably, within seconds, Mrs. Grady, the building manager, opened her door and peeked out. Kit hefted her overnight bag, ducked her head and started toward her own apartment. She just couldn’t face anyone right now, not even dear, old, lonely Mrs. Grady.
“Kit, is that you?”
Kit halted and slowly swung around. “You’re up pretty late, Mrs. Grady. It’s after three in the morning.”
“It’s not late for me,” she said, pulling her bathrobe more tightly around her. “You know I haven’t slept a wink since my Joe died.”
Kit knew for a fact that Mrs. Grady had been a widow for more than twenty years. It seemed a pretty long time for grief-inspired insomnia to last. She intended to get over Ryan more quickly than that. The next twenty minutes would do very nicely.
Mrs. Grady eyed Kit’s suitcase. “You’re back from your weekend early, aren’t you?”
Kit didn’t answer, but Mrs. Grady must have noticed something of what Kit was feeling, because she didn’t pursue her question. “Some packages came for you,” she said. “They have your apartment number on them, all right, but they’re addressed to someone else.” She bustled back into her apartment, leaving the door open.
“I’ll deal with it tomorrow, Mrs. Grady,” Kit called after her, but Mrs. Grady didn’t hear.
She reappeared in the doorway carrying three fair-sized packages. “They’re addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Holt. Are they staying with you?”
Kit took the packages without answering the question and all the other questions that lurked in Mrs. Grady’s bright eyes. “Thanks, Mrs. Grady. Hope you get some sleep.”
“You know what they say about men, don’t you? Can’t live with them and can’t live without them.”
“You know what else they say? If we can put one man on the moon, why not put all of them there?”
Mrs. Grady patted Kit’s arm. “Like that, is it, dear?”
“In spades. Good night. Thanks for taking delivery on the packages for me.” Kit walked down the hall. When she reached her own apartment, she balanced packages, suitcase and purse in order to get the keys in the lock and the door opened. Once she’d turned on the light, she waved to Mrs. Grady, who always watched until she was safely inside her apartment. Kit had never managed to bring herself to ask directly how a seventy-year-old who was on the small side intended to protect Kit if someone had attacked her.
She dumped her suitcase on the floor and the packages on the sofa. The tape on one of them had come loose. It would take the merest tug to pull it completely off, not that she wanted to open it. She wasn’t Mrs. Ryan Holt and never would be. But somehow her hand took hold of the tape and pulled it free. Then there was nothing for it but to open the flaps of the carton. Inside, nestled in a bed of foam peanuts, lay a box wrapped in silver paper decorated with white wedding bells.
She turned away and stared blankly at the wall. Of all the things she couldn’t face right now, wedding presents came near the top of the list, right after Ryan Holt.
“I never want to see him again,” she said aloud. If she said it over and over again, she might even begin to believe it.
Ryan pulled his chair closer to his desk and scanned the production figures on his computer screen. He’d come in to work early today so he could get this report out first thing, but so far he hadn’t accomplished much. He rubbed his hands over his face. He could use a cup of coffee, but the coffee was on Kit’s side of the building, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to see her, not after this weekend.
How had everything gone so wrong? One minute she was in his arms all soft and sultry, and the next she was walking out the door. He massaged his temples. He hadn’t had much sleep that night. Or the next one, either. He’d been angry at her, but couldn’t seem to stay mad. Images of her kept creeping into his brain. No woman had ever obsessed him the way she did. When awake, he thought about her even when he didn’t want to, and when asleep, well, the sooner those erotic dreams were drowned in a cold shower, the better.
He pushed away from his desk and stood up. If only she hadn’t pulled that marriage thing on him. What had prompted that, anyway? She’d been so adamant on the marriage issue before that she hadn’t even wanted to pretend to be married for the Winstons. And she knew how he felt about it. Marriage simply wasn’t for him. At least, not now.
He crossed to the window and peered out at the fog wisping across the parking lot. If they were married, they’d be tied, chained, bound to each other. If he got another job offer, she’d have to agree to the move, or they couldn’t go. And what about when he wanted to start his own business, what then? She wouldn’t want to take the risk. It would tie up all their capital, including the down payment on the house she’d be sure to want
He’d been over this ground before—repeatedly, in fact, since their blowup Saturday night. But it seemed harder to hang on to his rational conviction when he kept getting sidetracked by thoughts of Kit. Maybe wanting to get married was just a temporary thing with her. She’d said she loved him. Maybe they could still work things out.
At the knock on his door, he turned around. Kit walked in before he could invite her to and closed the door behind her. She looked pale and a little haggard, like someone who hadn’t slept well, but no less desirable than she’d been in his imaginings for the past two days.
He’d deliberately avoided running into her this morning, but now he couldn’t quite remember why. “Hello, Kit.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I need to talk to you about something.” Her gaze drifted away from him, and she twisted her fingers together, the third finger on her left hand now noticeably bare.
“I see you’ve taken off your wedding ring,” he said.
She winced as if in pain, and he quickly looked away. God knew he didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted…her.
“It isn’t mine. It belongs to Lindsay, remember?” she said, giving each word a tart emphasis and tilting her chin to that familiar, belligerent angle.
He smiled. He couldn’t help himself. She drew it out of him just by standing there and making waspish comments. Just by sticking out her chin and looking so beautiful. Just by being Kit. “Yes, how could I forget?” he said, and smiled some more.
He moved toward her. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t know how not to. What was it about her that held him so? Involuntarily, his hand reached out toward her.
She gave him such a look then, with hurt and scorn mixed in equal measures, that he jerked his hand back to his side as quickly as if he’d scorched it.
“I want a divorce,” she said.
Divorce—the word came at him like a blow to the solar plexus. “What?”
“You can skip the irony. You needn’t remind me we’re not really married.”
“No, I’m sure I don’t,” he murmured. No need to remind her, but what about him? He turned and moved back behind his desk. Why was he so shocked? He didn’t want to be married. Nothing could be more certain. But hell, he didn’t want to lose her, either.
“The problem is that I’ve received wedding presents,” she said.
“I see,” he said, not actually seeing anything at all except that she wanted to make a complete break with him. That might be for the best, but how could he stand it?
“I think we should make some kind of public statement.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to send the presents back?”
“Of course I’ll send them back. But don’t you see? It’s just the beginning. We’ll get more and more presents. You don’t know how many friends Mary and Warren have.”
“Well, you’re welcome to use my phone if you want to put out a company-wide message. How should we word it? Kit and Ryan are not now, nor have they ever been, married?”
It was a weak attempt at humor, and it only served to bring color to her cheeks and increase the tilt of her chin. “I think we need to reach a wider audience than the employees here at Calvert.”
“Why do I have the feeling that you already have a plan? Just tell me what it is.”
“Deborah Waterston invited us to a big bash. I knew her from school, and I’ve stayed friendly because Deborah has a hefty trust fund and makes large contributions to Mary’s charities.”
“Let me see if I can interpret that. This Deborah isn’t a particular friend, but you stay on her good side for Mary’s sake.”
“That’s about it.”
“Then why would we want to go to her party?”
“Because it will be written up in the social news.”
“I see. And what do we do? Ask everyone to be quiet while we make our announcement?”
“We wouldn’t have to do that. I could call and explain that we’d both like to come to the party, but not with each other, because we’re getting a divorce.”
“What do you mean ‘not with each other’?”
“I thought we should each show up with dates, but still be friendly to each other. Then Mary and Warren would hear about it and know we’re both okay.”
He stared at her. How could he possibly be okay if she was going out with another man? “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Do you have a better one?”
He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “What if we gave this thing another try?”
“What ‘thing’ is that?”
“You know, you and me.” He moved from behind his desk and crossed to her. “You know I really do…care about you. A lot. And I know you care about me. Why don’t we try to work out a compromise or something?”
Her face softened for the first time since she’d come into his office, and she looked sad enough to cry. “Because you’re asking me to make a choice between being hurt now or destroyed later.” She moved toward the door. “The party’s Friday night at eight. I’ll send you directions.”
“Wait.” He loosened his tie. It was so hot in his office, he was sweating. “Look, you want to get married. Okay, let’s get married.” There, he’d said it. Let her have it her way. At least she wouldn’t be leaving him, going out with someone else. The bottom line was, he couldn’t bear to lose her. That was all that mattered right now.
She put her fists on her hips. “You are the most arrogant conceited, unfeeling person I have ever met. How I ever could have thought I was in love with you is beyond me.”
“What are you talking about? I thought you wanted to get married.”
“There’s no point in explaining. You wouldn’t understand. See you Friday night. Bring a date.” She pulled the door open and marched out with a toss of her flame red hair.
He stared at the empty doorway. That was absolutely it. He wasn’t going to have anything more to do with Kit, no matter what. The woman was completely nuts. So he’d been attracted to her. Okay, more than attracted. She mattered to him, but that was over now. He would put it behind him. There were other women as attractive, as dynamic, as adorable—he just hadn’t met any of them yet
Kit let the maid take her coat and turned to Jeremy. “Thanks so much for bringing me tonight. I know you must have had other plans but were too nice to tell me.”
“I’m glad you asked me,” Jeremy said, his smile a dazzling flash in his handsome face. “What are old former fiancés good for, anyway, if not to show up new former fiancés? Especially jerks like this Ryan Holt.”
“He’s really not a jerk, and we weren’t ever actually engaged,” Kit said. It had been a relief to confide in Jeremy. Dear old Jeremy, who’d stayed a close friend even after he’d accepted that she’d never marry him. He’d taken her side with a vehemence that at first pleased her, but now made her uneasy. “You won’t try to confront him or anything, will you?”
“I consider it my sworn duty to knock the block off any man who makes you unhappy, Kit. You know that.”
“That’s very sweet of you. But Ryan and I are trying to show everyone that we’re friends. It’s important for Mary and Warren’s sake.”
“All right, I’ll be good. But, tell me, how am I supposed to act around you? Am I merely your escort for the night or do I imply something more by my attentions to you?”
“Just act the way you always do,” she said hastily. Maybe asking Jeremy along hadn’t been such a good idea. What if he got the idea that just because she’d wanted to marry Ryan, now she’d consider marrying him? “I suppose we’d better stop hiding out here in the hallway and face the crowd.”
Jeremy grinned at her. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were nervous.”
Kit took Jeremy’s arm and lifted her chin. “Me, nervous? Don’t be sil—” She broke off.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, nothing at all.” She forced a smile. No point in explaining that Ryan always stopped her when she told him not to be silly. She didn’t want to remember those moments. “Let’s go.”
She clutched Jeremy’s arm and kept her head high as they entered Deborah Waterston’s elegant Victorian living room, crowded now with wall-to-wall party goers.
Deborah herself swept up to them. “Kit and Jeremy. Look at you. Just like old times. So glad you could make it. Your very charming ex is already here, Kit. So mature of you to insist on having him invited to the same party. I don’t know if I could have done it.”
Kit forced herself not to scan the room immediately for a glimpse of Ryan. She smiled back at Deborah. With any luck at all her smile wouldn’t look too insincere. Deborah had been one of the girls who used to snub her at school— until Mary and Warren took her in.
“Hello, Deborah,” Jeremy said. “Nice party.”
“Good to see you, Jeremy. Am I to assume that you and Kit are an item again?”
“You may assume that Jeremy and I are, and will always be, best of friends,” Kit said.
“That’s nice,” Deborah said in that way she had of making it sound like she meant the complete opposite. “Ryan came with a ‘friend’ as well, a very friendly friend, if you know what I mean. I believe her name is Cynthia.” Deborah let the name hang in the air and peered into Kit’s face.
Kit stared back at Deborah unblinking. She’d be darned if she’d let any reaction show. “Yes, I know,” she lied with a smile, and took Jeremy’s arm. “Don’t let us keep you from your other guests. Jeremy and I can mingle on our own.” She held her smile in place and jerked Jeremy into action next to her.
“Careful with the arm,” Jeremy said as they swung away from Deborah. “I steer better by voice command.”
Kit ignored him and let her gaze roam over the crowd. “I can’t believe he brought her.”
“You mean Cynthia? Who is she?”
“My assistant, the little traitor,” she said between gritted teeth. “Hi, there,” she said to someone whose name escaped her, and kept moving, dragging Jeremy along with her.
“I thought the idea was that you’d both come with dates and show everyone how amicably you’ve parted.”
“Zip it, Jeremy. You know I hate it when you get that reasonable tone.”
“Sorry. Give me a moment, and I’ll work up something completely irrational.”
They wove their way around the chatting guests, Kit smiling, but not stopping to chat with anyone who tried to get her attention. Where was Ryan, anyway?”
“I have it,” Jeremy said. “She’s really unattractive and that will reflect badly on you.”
“She’s very young,” Kit said. “And she’s disgustingly enthusiastic about everything. She has this curly brown hair that bounces around all the time because she’s bubbling about something or other.”
“Just what I thought—a veritable hag with no discernible personality. You will introduce me, though, won’t you?”
“You want to meet her? Why?”
“I can’t imagine,” he said. “Put it down to sheer perversity.”
She spotted Ryan at just that moment. Or maybe he’d seen her first and drew her attention by the power of his gaze. She stared at him, frozen where she stood. Would every time she saw him be like this? Or would she get used to the overpowering yearning to run right into his arms and beg him to let her stay for as long as he’d have her?
“So that’s Ryan, hmm?” Jeremy said softly in her ear.
Kit forced herself to look away. “Yes. How did you guess?”
Jeremy gave her a pitying look. “Face it, Kit. You love him. You know it, and now so does anyone in the room who’s been watching you two.”
“You’re wrong. I hate him.”
Jeremy slipped his arm around her waist and leaned toward her. “Hang on to that thought, because here they come.”
She hadn’t a second to organize her thoughts, because Ryan was standing right in front of her, with Cynthia hanging on to his arm as if she owned it.
“Hello, Kit,” Ryan said.
Just the sight of him made her mouth dry up and her heart crash around in her chest. And she couldn’t even look at Cynthia. How was she going to pull off ordinary conversation?
Jeremy leapt into the breach by holding out his hand and saying, “You must be Ryan. I’m Jeremy.”
Ryan stared hard at Jeremy’s face, then down at his hand before he shook it. “Jeremy. Let me see. Where have I heard that name before? I think I was given the use of a pair of your sweatpants when we stayed at the Franklins’ Tahoe house.”
“Really? I must confess I’ve never missed them, but I’m happy if you got some use out of them.”
Ryan gave him a wry smile. “They weren’t what I expected to be wearing on my wedding night, but then, nothing about my marriage to Kit has been particularly normal.” His gaze met Kit’s, and the words of the crushing riposte she’d assembled in her brain mixed themselves into a hopeless scramble.
A heavy silence followed. Jeremy turned to Cynthia.
“I’m Jeremy, and you, I’ve been told, are Cynthia. Are you enjoying the party?”
How like Jeremy to try to smooth things over. He really was a nice person. Too nice, in fact. Why couldn’t he be a little less pleasant? Especially to Cynthia, who’d probably had her eye on Ryan from the first
“Yes, it’s a way cool party,” Cynthia said, her hair doing its bouncing thing with nearly every word. “And this house is as big as a mansion. Have you ever seen anything so huge?” Her eyes were wide in wonder.
Jeremy and Ryan both smiled at Cynthia indulgently.
Kit pressed her lips together. “In fact, he’s seen many houses this size and larger,” she said in her most snubbing manner. “His own house, for one.”
Cynthia’s mouth formed a little O, but no sound came out.
Jeremy still had his arm around her waist, and he gave her a poke in the ribs. She didn’t look at him. So she wasn’t acting the role of former spouse who’s on friendly terms with her ex. So what? She didn’t feel like being friendly. She felt like tugging on one of Cynthia’s bouncing brown curls until she howled in pain, which was nothing compared to what she felt like doing to Ryan.
Jeremy dropped his arm from her waist and spoke to Cynthia. “You know what? These two have a few things to discuss, so why don’t you and I go and explore the buffet?”
“Jeremy, what are you doing?” Kit protested.
“I’m helping you show the world that you two are parting on amicable terms. Cynthia and I will be back shortly.”
She watched Jeremy and Cynthia disappear into the crowd. A number of people turned to cast inquisitive looks in her direction, some more discreetly than others, but all clearly curious. Jeremy was right. She had to give at least the appearance of being on friendly terms with Ryan. She turned to face him again.
“Maybe Jeremy isn’t such a sure bet for your future matrimonial plans,” Ryan said before she could could get a word out. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off Cynthia.”
Kit gritted her teeth. And she’d been worried about letting her feelings show. When he talked like that, she almost forgot how much she loved him. “You can keep your sarcasm to yourself. Jeremy is my very dear friend.”
“Is he? Well, he’s a braver man than I am.”
“Yes, he has many positive qualities that you lack.”
“Now, what could those be?” He drew his brows together and put his index finger on his chin in an absurd charade of someone puzzling out a problem. “The mansion, for one, I’d guess, and of course, the bank account to go along with it. Once you’re married, you can throw your own elaborate parties,” he said, gesturing to the spacious room filled with noisy partygoers. “And get written up in the social news.”
“If you think I care about any of those things, then you don’t know me at all.”
“I know all I need to know about you. You’re a walking contradiction and nothing but trouble for any man.”
Over Ryan’s shoulder she saw two people turn around and stare, openly eavesdropping. She smiled at them and waved a greeting. They quickly averted their eyes. She kept the smile on her face and returned her gaze to Ryan. “Do me a favor and stifle your antagonism for a few minutes,” she said quietly, “so we can act as if we’re friends. That’s the whole point of this exercise, you may remember.”
He leaned toward her and said softly, “Let’s get this straight, Kit. I’m not the only one who’s antagonistic here. It’s one thing to launch into me, but you were pretty rude to Cynthia. She came with me tonight only as a favor to you.”
“A favor to me? How gullible do you think I am? I suppose you also have some swampland you’d like me to invest in.”
He straightened and stared at her. “You’re jealous.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so.” He moved closer to her until she had to tip her head back to look at him.
It was dangerous for her to be this close to him. He’d already passed that critical distance at which she couldn’t resist the force of attraction and would surely fly into his arms, like iron to a magnet.
“God, Kit,” he said, his voice husky, “when you look at me like that it just about sends me over the edge.”
Why, oh why, did she have to love him so? Her life had been simpler before he’d walked into it. Simple and bare, like a tree in winter. She needed to get away from him, before she forgot that he didn’t love her, didn’t want her forever and ever. Or, she’d just end up plunged back into winter. “I don’t think you’re in any real danger,” she said, and took a step back only to bump into someone behind her.
She mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and turned to the person she’d stepped on. Darn…Deborah.
Deborah smiled and raised her eyebrows. “My fault. I should have warned you I was approaching, though I’m not sure you would have heard me.”
Kit got her social smile back on her face. Thank goodness for a rescuer. Maybe she could fob Ryan off on Deborah and make a break for home. “Yes, it’s a little noisy in here. Ryan, you met Deborah when you arrived, didn’t you?”
Ryan smiled perfunctorily at Deborah and nodded.
“Yes, we’ve met,” Deborah said. “And I have to say I was very sorry to hear that you two are divorcing. I know you’ll tell me that it’s none of my business, but is there any chance of a reconciliation?”
Kit opened her mouth to say absolutely not, but Ryan got in first. “Yes, there’s a distinct possibility,” he said.
Kit stared at him. Why had he said that? He was going to ruin the whole thing.
“I’m so glad,” Deborah said, grasping each of them by the hand. “You know, I’m not the only one who’s noticed that there’s still quite a bit of chemistry between the two of you, if you know what I mean.”
Kit winced. Any minute now, Deborah would be going wink-wink, nudge-nudge. “We’re still friends, Deborah, but that’s all.”
“That’s a very good place to start,” Deborah replied. “Have you considered seeing a marriage counselor?”
“We haven’t,” Ryan said. “But maybe we should.”
“I don’t think it would make any difference,” Kit added quickly.
“You don’t know until you try,” Deborah said, and joined Kit’s hand to Ryan’s.
His hand enfolded hers, the warmth of his touch streaking up her arm like electricity. He smiled into her eyes. “I think Deborah’s right, Kit. Let’s get away from this crowd and talk it over.” He turned to Deborah. “You’ll excuse us, won’t you?”
Deborah gave a little trill of laughter. “Of course. Don’t mind me.”
Ryan pulled her along behind him through the crowd. She tried to tug her hand free from his grip, but he held on and kept moving forward out the door to the wide, woodpaneled hall. She didn’t want to go with him, really she didn’t. They were supposed to be divorcing, not reconciling.
Ryan kept going till he found a nook between the front hall and the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly private, but it was a heck of a lot better than that room with about a hundred of Kit’s socialite friends watching them. He stopped and turned to face her, but kept her hand clasped in his. He wasn’t going to let her get away. Not this time.
Kit looked up at him with an accusing gaze. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Trying to salvage my sanity.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it. You’re acting quite crazy, you know.” She tried to pry his fingers loose with her free hand.
He captured that hand, too, with his other hand and imprisoned both of hers against his chest. Maybe feeling the pounding of his heart quieted her, because at last she held still.
“You make me crazy, Kit. Just the sight of you dazzles me, and I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing, except that I want you.”
She shook her head as if to deny what he said. “We should go back to the party.”
“No. We need to settle this. I don’t want you to run away from me. Tell me what it will take to make you stay.”
“Oh, Ryan,” she said, and her eyes welled up with tears. “Don’t, please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Desire you so much I think I’m going to burn up?”
“It’s just desire. It will pass.”
He pulled her closer. “Will it? Has it for you? Because I know you want me as much as I want you. If I kissed you now, would you feel nothing?”
Her eyes softened, the way they did when she wanted to be kissed. She did want him. He bent his head toward her. She didn’t move or try to struggle. Why would she, anyway? She’d told him before that she loved him. That meant he had a claim on her.
Voices in the hallway, then just one voice. “Kit?”
“Jeremy,” Kit breathed, and wrenched herself free.
Jeremy stepped into the nook. His eyes flashed from Kit to Ryan and back to Kit. “You okay?” he asked, holding out a hand to her as if he had the right, damn him.
“She’s fine,” Ryan growled, taking a step toward the other man.
But Kit turned away. “Take me home. I want to go home.”
“Sure, Kit,” Jeremy said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll take you home,” Ryan said. “Let me take you.” He would, too, right after he ripped that guy’s face off.
Kit held up her hand. “No,” she said. “I want Jeremy.”
Ryan stopped in his tracks. It felt as if someone had just punched him in the chest. What else could cause such a pain in his heart?
“Kit, wait,” he said, and followed her into the hall.
She had to have heard him, but she didn’t pause.
“Don’t go,” he said to the empty doorway. “I love you.”