Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kathy had almost made it to the bathroom when she heard Charles’s question. Puzzled, she stopped, listening carefully. What she heard had her shaking her head and retracing her steps, her movement silent thanks to her stockinged feet.

“Well, if the man won’t come to the mountain, the mountain better come to the man, don’t you think? Here, I brought you this. I made it myself. Peach cobbler.”

“Evelyn, I—”

“Your mother told me how stubborn you’ve been in recent weeks. I’m a patient woman, Charles, but even I have my limits. Don’t you think it’s time we quit pretending?”

“What are you talking about? And what are you doing here?”

Kathy peered around the corner, taking in the scene in the hall in a glance. Charles was as angry as she’d ever seen him, his face practically a thundercloud as he stood by the door, dish in hand. Evelyn, the debutante from the day of the brunch, stood in front of him, clad in a black lace dress that would have been suitable on a brothel madam. As Kathy watched, Evelyn undid the clasp on the side that held the dress together and let it unwind then fall to the floor in what looked like a practiced move that left her completely nude.

Charles was shaking his head, his eyes fixed firmly on a point somewhere north of Evelyn’s face. “Don’t you dare! Put that damned dress back on right this instant.”

“Oh, now. You know you don’t want me to do that,” she purred as she stepped toward him.

Deciding enough was enough and realizing that if she didn’t act, Charles would have to engage with the woman, Kathy stepped into the hall. She picked up the dress and cleared her throat, the sound making Evelyn spin around, shocked.

“I believe you dropped this.” Kathy held out the dress, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, my God! Who are you? Where did you come from? Give me that!” She grabbed the dress from Kathy’s hands, frantically covering herself. “Charles, who is this?”

“Get dressed right now,” he snapped, looking at the wall as he set down the casserole dish. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is? Your parents… what the hell were you thinking?” He glanced toward Evelyn, visibly relieved to see that she’d gotten the dress back on.

Red-faced but wholly unrepentant, Evelyn glared at Kathy. “You haven’t answered me. Who are you? What are you doing in my fiancé’s house?”

Stunned, Kathy looked at Charles, her mind racing for a few seconds to consider the possibility. She dismissed it immediately. She also hurried to get between him and Evelyn as he looked decidedly as though he was ready to strangle the girl.

“Nice try, sweetie. I’ll definitely give you points for originality. But no.” Kathy felt sorry for Evelyn, but she wasn’t going to put up with the woman’s scheming.

Evelyn glanced between them, obviously furious at having her plans thwarted. “You’re only putting off the inevitable, you know. Whoever you are”—she looked down her nose at Kathy—“don’t get too comfortable.”

When Charles cursed and stepped forward, Kathy blocked him with a subtle move. His hands came to her hips as though to move her out of the way, but she braced against him. Her heart was pounding as she waited to see what he would do, a thread of fear racing through her as flashes of old memories rose up. To her vast relief, he stayed put.

“Evelyn, I’m going to tell you this one time, and I expect you to listen. Whatever little scheme you’ve cooked up with my mother, you can forget about it. I’m not interested you in the least, a fact which I’ve made abundantly clear. Now, you’re going to go back out to your car and drive home, and you’re never going to set foot near my house again.”

A look of uncertainty had finally begun to work its way across her features, and by the time he was finished speaking, Evelyn was a lot less confident than she’d been. “I thought… I thought you… your mother, she swore you’d come around. I figured you just needed a little push.”

Charles sighed. “My mother does not speak for me, and she hasn’t for a number of years. If she’s led you to believe otherwise, for that, I’m truly sorry. But something I’m not is naïve. I’m guessing that I’ll be getting either a very late or very early visit from your mother or mine, if not both. A conveniently timed visit to secure this little plot.”

Kathy couldn’t help it. She snorted. “Plot is right. It sounds like a half-baked trope from a cheap romance novel.” When Evelyn turned a bright shade of red, Kathy gasped. “Oh, my God. That’s where you got the idea? Really?”

Arms crossed, Evelyn glared at the wall. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave now.”

Charles stepped to the side, and this time, Kathy let him move her.

He didn’t speak until Evelyn was turning the doorknob. “I’ll have your word that you’ll give up on this mission, please.”

The girl sneered at him, including Kathy in the look. “I wouldn’t have you now if you came served on buttered toast.” With that, she was gone.

He moved to watch, hands on his hips, as she went down the steps. And he stayed there for several long moments after Kathy heard her car start and drive away. Shoulders and back stiff, he closed the door and turned to look at her.

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

Charles slumped against the panel. “I should be apologizing to you. That was… an absolute disaster.”

Kathy walked over to him, standing so close they almost touched. “It was interesting, I’ll give you that. She’s your mother’s chosen daughter-in-law, I suppose. Just how far do you think Evelyn was willing to take this thing?”

He gave a tired shrug. “If I played along, all the way, including, I’ve no doubt, a fake pregnancy to rush the wedding. Or a real one possibly. Who knows? I’ll have a talk with her father tomorrow. He’ll put an end to this.” He groaned. “My mother really is a good person, but I swear she exists some days to try my patience.”

“At least you got a peach cobbler out of the mess.” When his lips twitched, she gently tickled his belly then let her hands slide to his sides.

“Want to hear a secret?”

Kathy smiled. “Of course.”

“I hate peach cobbler,” he told her, his voice low. “I hate peaches even. Always have. I can’t stand them.”

“No! But you live in the Peach State. Half of Atlanta is named Peach this or that.”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s true.”

“Tsk, tsk. I suppose we can let that pass this once. But if you tell me you don’t like pecans, I may have to reconsider this whole thing.”

Charles wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “I love pecans.”

His gaze was so warm she almost felt as if the words had been a declaration of his affections for her.

“I’m rather fond of them myself,” she said quietly. She traced a pattern on his chest. “And since I’m fond of you, I’m going to ask you to call me a cab. You look exhausted. I should get out of your hair and let you get some rest.”

He slid a hand to the back of her neck and, with a feather-light touch, brushed his lips across hers. “I wish you’d stay. I won’t stop you if you want to go, but I really wish you’d stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very. I might well crash on you here, but I’d like to hold you tonight.”

Kathy wasn’t about to deny him. She wanted the same thing much too badly. “Then why don’t we go to bed?”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “I think I’d like that more than anything else in this world.”

For the first time in years, Kathy felt as though she was truly in control, truly choosing her own path, and much to her surprise, it felt like coming home.