“I wish you could have been here to see the look on his face.” Archer concluded his accounting of the morning’s events, his voice at the other end of the phone line fairly blooming with satisfaction. “I don’t imagine my grandson has ever been so befuddled by a woman in his life.”
Ilsa thought it was more likely Adam had never been angrier in his life. Proud as he was—as all the Braddock men were—she couldn’t imagine he’d be in a forgiving mood anytime soon. She sighed. Smaller things than a quart of ice water had ruined many a promising romance. “Did he say anything?”
“Not a word. Just brushed off the ice cubes, waved away the towel Abbott tried to foist on him and stalked from the room. He left for work a few minutes ago…in a different, dry suit and with his nose still considerably out of joint.” Archer chuckled. “I’ll tell you for a fact, Ilsa, I wasn’t sure about Katie the first time I saw her, but I have new respect for your insights. She’s possibly the only woman in the world who can keep my oldest grandson on his toes.”
“As long as there’s a pitcher of ice water around, I can’t think it would be difficult.”
Archer laughed in earnest, mistaking her dry comment for a joke. The truth was, Ilsa had very much hoped Katie and Adam were on a path to the genuine discovery of each other and the love of a lifetime, but she feared this incident would be a setback. She couldn’t imagine Adam Braddock allowing anyone to treat him so. The embarrassment alone would be difficult for him to acknowledge, much less any justification for the action. In her heart, she was proud of Katie for standing up to him, even if she was disappointed at this unforeseen turn of events. “Is that all that happened?” she asked, wanting to make sure Archer hadn’t left out some small, but important detail.
“Well, they all think you and I are an item.”
“What?”
“They think you’re my special lady friend.”
Ilsa was completely taken aback by that bit of leftover information. “You mean they believe we’re more than friends?”
“James jumped to that conclusion the minute I mentioned I’d invited you to be a houseguest. Adam and Bryce followed his lead like puppies and I have no doubt one or both of them have already had Peter on the phone to bring him up to speed on the situation.” He chuckled with a hearty enjoyment. “I’ve been having a good laugh about it with Janey this morning.” His voice turned wistful. “I’m only wishing, of course, but if she were here, I know she’d be enjoying this even more than I am.”
Listening to him, Ilsa couldn’t imagine how anyone, especially his son and grandsons, could think another woman would ever claim a significant place in his heart. “I can’t believe James was serious,” she said and recognized the question unintentionally tucked into her voice. “He was probably only teasing you.”
“He may have started out that way, but you should have seen his face when I told him your name. If he didn’t before, he certainly left the breakfast table mortally afraid that you and I are romantically involved. And don’t go thinking I said anything to warrant such an assumption, because I merely stated the facts…leaving out the real reason you and I have formed our little alliance, of course. My son was pretty shaken up by what he imagines is going on, too, and I think it has a lot more to do with you than because he’s worried about somebody stepping into his mother’s place.”
Ilsa could read between the lines well enough to know Archer had decided to try a bit of matchmaking himself. Although she didn’t like the idea that he was dangling her in front of James like a prize to be won, she recognized the swift kick of a thrill, too. And she liked that even less. “If you’re going to play matchmaker, Archer, you should be aware there can be serious consequences. James is engaged to be married and not interested in me other than as an old acquaintance.”
“In a few days, Ilsa, I’ll have lived a full seventy-nine years and I’m not about to spend a minute of the life I have left worrying about consequences. James makes a fool of himself without my assistance on a regular basis. Don’t begrudge me the opportunity to help him do it just this once.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting his fiancée, “ Ilsa said to clarify her position, despite her rather rebellious emotions. “I’m sure she’s delightful.”
“Delightful isn’t the way I’d describe Monica, but you go ahead and look forward to meeting her. Anticipation, in this case, has reality beat to a standstill.”
Deciding it was futile to argue, Ilsa returned to the original purpose for his call. “What do you think Adam will do, once he’s cooled off?”
“No pun intended?” Archer’s humor faded to a more serious note. “He’ll fire her. No doubt about it. I won’t let him, of course. I’ll hit him with all the practical reasons it’s not feasible to change coordinators at this late date, then I’ll persuade her it’s her duty to stay and see the party through to the end. She’s not a quitter and well, she likes me nearly as much as I like her. I think she’d genuinely hate to miss my birthday.”
Yes. That was Ilsa’s feeling, too. But at this point it was hard to know how far the relationship had progressed or if it could weather this first bout of disenchantment. The main thing she wanted, now, was to persuade Archer not to interfere. “Not every match turns out the way I’d like, Archer. You should be careful not to alienate your grandson in your desire to make this one work.”
“Pshaw,” he scoffed with a touch of the Braddock arrogance.
“All I’m saying is that it might be wise to stand back just now.” She offered the advice with little hope of his following it. “Let Adam and Katie learn to follow their hearts in their own way.”
She gentled her voice, hoping he’d take her words to heart. “It is, if you’ll recall, Archer, one of my stipulations.”
“If you could have seen his face, Ilsa…. He’s fallen as hard and fast for her as I did for my Janey. Adam is in love, probably for the first and last time in his life. I recognize the signs, even if he doesn’t.”
“Then you only need to let him realize that for himself.”
He sighed. “There’s always a catch, isn’t there?”
Her lips found a smile. “You knew in the beginning this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you sure you can’t come before Sunday?”
“That’s only a couple of days away and it’ll take me that long to think about this situation and figure out how—and if—I can stir up the possibilities again. Let’s be still and see what develops between now and then.”
His gruff chuckle was resigned, but confident. “And that’s exactly what Janey would say.”
“I’ll see you on Sunday and, in the meantime, please try to avoid the temptation to act as matchmaker.”
“For Adam and Katie? Or for James and…you?”
“Both,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.
But his laughter as he bade her goodbye was far from reassuring.
“I WANT TO SEE Lara in my office,” Adam said as he passed Nell’s desk without slowing his agitated stride one iota.
“Now?” Nell called after him, clearly alarmed by his mood.
“No,” he snapped, out of patience with the world. “Five minutes ago.” He tossed his briefcase onto his desk and strode to the window, growing angrier by the second. Damn females. All of them. Everywhere. They’d all been put on earth just to aggravate him. Learn to listen. As if they made any sense to begin with. As if they could make a point without resorting to dumping a pitcher of ice water in a man’s lap. He could still feel the chilly humiliation, more than an hour later. And to accuse him of being a snob. Him! She was the one in need of lessons on how to treat another person with respect. She was the one who needed to learn to listen. She was the one who…
“You wanted to see me?”
Lara’s voice from the doorway was solid, no-nonsense, and openly curious. He didn’t bother to turn around, mainly because he knew she’d read something into his expression that wasn’t there. “How quickly can you get a background check done?”
“Depends who it is and what you want to know.”
“Background,” he said sharply. “A personal history from age zero to…well, to whatever it is now. Family, education, jobs, friends, previous relationships…everything.”
Lara, being Lara, picked up on his one slip of the tongue. “Previous relationships?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry, so completely furious with another person—Katie, of course—or so upset at the way he was handling his emotions. Or not handling them. “I want a dossier on Kate Canton on my desk before the ink has time to dry on the paper.”
“Okay.” Lara’s tone was hesitant and just on the safe side of amused. “She’s the party planner you hired, isn’t she?”
“She is. Any other pertinent questions?”
“I believe that is considered pertinent, Adam. Occupation is a good place to start when researching someone’s life.”
“In that case, you should look up waitresses, too.” He felt a pang at saying it that way, as if he was upset because of what she did for a living. And he wasn’t. He was upset because she’d lied to him about it.
“She worked as a waitress?” Lara was already enjoying his misery a little too much. He could tell by her voice.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said, turning. “It’s a noble profession.”
She didn’t even try to conceal her smile. “Noble?”
“It’s an honest way to make a living,” he snapped. “Do you have something against waiters and waitresses?”
“Oh, no. I’ve done my time waiting tables and made some good money doing it.” She paused, trying to assess his strange mood. “But I never thought of it as particularly noble.”
“You’re wasting my time, Lara. I want that information.”
“I’ll call Nelson. If she’s been anywhere on the Internet, he’ll have her profiled in a matter of minutes.”
Adam frowned. “I wouldn’t count on it being that easy.” With a touch of his hand, he buzzed Nell. “Get me the occupancy projections for the Boston office building.” He’d switched off, before he belatedly remembered to punch in her intercom number again and offer a conciliatory, “Please.”
Lara was still in the doorway, curiosity etched all over her lovely face, but at his glance, she turned to go.
“Lara,” he stopped her. “While you’re at it, find out what you can about Ilsa Fairchild, too.”
Her carefully arched eyebrows lifted. “Kate Canton. Ilsa Fairchild,” she repeated as if etching the names in her memory. But what she was really after was his reasons for wanting the information. He knew it, and she knew that he knew. “Hmm. Two women whose names have been floating around this office lately like rumors. What are you up to, Adam?”
For a moment, he thought about confiding in her. But only for a moment. “Six foot four and still growing,” he said. “Now get out of my office and prove you’re worth the exorbitant salary I pay you.”
“And then some,” she said and closed the door behind her. She opened it again almost before it latched. “Do you have a social security number?”
“I thought you’d have that memorized. You probably have occasion to refer to it more than I do.”
“Not your social security number, Adam. It would be helpful, although not strictly necessary, to have one for the women you want investigated.”
Investigated. The word sounded so invasive, so not what he wanted to do. But he had to know. The safety of his family was his responsibility. “I don’t know,” he said, picking up a report off his desk. “Ask Nell if she has it. She wrote out the retainer check for Katie…and who knows how many thousands of dollars more for the party.” The thought that he’d trusted Katie so completely was amazing to him suddenly. It had never once occurred to him to question her. He’d been so determined she would work for him, he hadn’t even taken basic precautions. He’d instructed Nell in the beginning to give Katie anything she asked for and now his stomach knotted in disappointment that she might have, probably had, done much more than lie to him. He’d certainly given her the perfect opportunity. “I doubt Nell will have Mrs. Fairchild’s social security number, but it amazes me sometimes what she has in that computer.”
“I’ll check with her.” Lara closed the door again, but was back within a few minutes to hand him the occupancy projections and a bit of information. “No retainer,” she told him crisply.
“What?” He looked up from the report he hadn’t been reading.
“Your events coordinator hasn’t requested so much as a cough drop.”
That was odd. But his black mood lightened instantly to a cautious gray. “I distinctly remember telling her to call Nell and arrange to pick up a check.”
Lara shrugged. “She never called. Unless someone else has been paying her, she hasn’t received a single dime to date.”
He frowned. “Nothing for caterers, supplies for the party?”
“Not through Nell.”
But through Nell was about the only way his money was ever disbursed. He used cash and credit cards, but Nell paid the bills. At home, it worked much the same, with expenditures handled mainly by Ruth or Abbott, subject to either his or his grandfather’s okay.
“I’ll have to check on that,” he said, although he couldn’t fathom who he might check with. He would have known if the money was tapped from the household accounts. His grandfather wouldn’t expect to carry the cost of his own birthday party and would have questioned Adam about any request for funds. Certainly James wouldn’t volunteer to pay, and it wouldn’t occur to either Bryce or Peter that their older brother didn’t have the monetary issues all under control. So unless Nell had made a mistake, which was highly unlikely, Katie hadn’t been paid. Hadn’t, in fact, asked to be paid.
Lara left again and Adam let the report drop back onto his desk. Turning to the broad expanse of window, he gazed unseeingly out at the river and the sure signs that spring was fading into summer. He should, he supposed, be wondering if Katie had made any preparations at all for the party, if she’d lined up even the most basic resources needed to put together an event worthy of being called a Braddock party. But he wasn’t truly concerned about that part. Bryce had said she was working on it and there were suppliers all over Rhode Island who were eager to work for his family. He couldn’t imagine that even one of them would worry if they weren’t paid in advance. It was Katie who occupied his thoughts. Katie, who hadn’t even made a phone call to request the wage he’d agreed to pay her. Katie, who collected experiences instead of material things.
And just that quickly his anger was gone, replaced by a subtle and soothing relief. It was too soon, would be too impulsive to give up his suspicions entirely—plus he felt a little embarrassed that a lack of mercenary evidence could so quickly change his opinion. There were other things to consider, of course. But images of Katie, snippets of things she’d said were moving from the shadows of his mind, bringing with them a tender and tenacious longing, an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Or perhaps wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
He wasn’t wholly ready to forgive her either. She had poured a pitcher of ice-cold water all over him only a couple of hours ago. He didn’t believe he’d deserved that. Not even if he were an arrogant snob, which he wasn’t. But she was, or had been, a waitress when he met her and she had no business going around passing herself off as an events coordinator. Maybe she and Ilsa Fairchild were in this ruse together.
Or maybe there was a perfectly logical explanation.
Turning back to the desk, Adam buzzed Nell. “Hold my calls,” he said when she answered. “And don’t let anyone, not even Lara, come through that door.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Braddock.”
Now there was a woman after his own heart, he thought. But as he settled into his big, leather chair, Katie was the only woman who seemed to have a claim on his heart. It was only of her that he thought. He recalled with soft delight how she had so easily turned Bryce’s teasing back on him this morning, how she had been as quick as the Energizer Bunny to let anyone listening know she had spent a night possessed of spectacular dreams. Whether or not they realized she had spent the night with him was unimportant. He knew. And she knew. And that was spectacular enough.
He closed his eyes and recalled the sweetly sinful feel of her bare foot rubbing his leg under the table, out of view, but somehow erotically public. He let himself exult for just a minute in the feeling of satisfaction that she had chosen him over his brothers, and hadn’t hesitated to say so.
Slowly, deliberately, he sank into the memories of last night, of Katie in the solarium, exerting a great deal of energy to seduce him, of her enthusiasm, of her body, naked and lovely in his arms. He let the images seep through him, vivid and intoxicating, until they took up all of his thoughts, all of his attention, and curved his lips into a soft smile of sheer and simple pleasure.
She was, he’d discovered, a woman of extremes. Fire in the night. Ice water in the morning. At the moment, that seemed a fair enough trade.
KATIE PACED from the leafy Boston fern to the dark green, feathery spikes of the Norfolk pine. “He’ll probably never speak to me again.”
Archer carefully patted down a mound of potting soil. “Never’s a long time.”
“I don’t care one way or the other,” she said, half to herself as she made the return trip to the fern. “He deserved it, you know. He really did.”
There was no point in disagreeing with her. She’d been working herself up to this for the past hour, ever since Archer had persuaded her to help him with his plantings and prunings in the arboretum this morning. He thought it was healthy for her to vent her whole spiel of emotions and, personally, he thought pouring the ice water in Adam’s lap had been a magnificent way to make her point. “You’re right,” he said. “My grandson does need to learn to listen.”
“You bet he does. If he’d listened to me in the first place…” She let her vehemence fade to a frown. “What I don’t understand is how you—probably the nicest man I’ve ever met—could have such a…a starched shirt for a grandson.”
“Oh, he comes from a long line of starched shirts, Katie. I was much like Adam when I was younger. Probably would have been just as consumed by work as he is, if Janey hadn’t come along to keep my priorities straight. My father was all starch, all business, all the time. On the day of his final and fatal heart attack, the stubborn old fool ignored the doctors, left the hospital, and went to the office. Adam is probably going to turn out just like him…unless someone special comes along to adjust his attitude.”
Katie sighed. “No doubt someone that special won’t have to dump ice water in his lap to do it.” She made another fern to tree loop. “He’s going to fire me, you know.”
“I imagine he may be thinking about it.”
“Of course he is. He can’t have a waitress under his roof. That would upset the balance of his universe, turn his world on its ear, signal the final hours of humanity and civilization as he knows it. He has to fire me. It’s the only way to salve his pride.”
“Well, perhaps not the only way.” Archer thought he should stand up for Adam, at least a little. “He might settle for an apology.”
“From whom? The glass blower? The city, for supplying the water? The maid who put the pitcher on the sideboard? Abbott, for not wrestling it out of my hands?” She paused to draw a breath. “And just in case you missed it, the list of people who might possibly owe him an apology does not include me.”
Archer smiled to himself. She had spunk. He’d hand her that. And she wasn’t intimidated by Adam. Or any Braddock, apparently. Another plus in her favor. “I suppose he could just have you banished.”
She frowned and resumed pacing. “I guess that’s better than having me vanish. Although you might want to advise him that any suspicious disappearances will be thoroughly investigated by the UWA.” She paused, looked at him with a livewire spark in her eyes. “That’s the United Waitresses’ Association, of which I am proud to be a member.”
He smiled, so she’d know he was on her side. “I don’t think it’s the idea of your being a waitress that bothers him.”
“Well, of course it is. You heard him this morning. That was you? The waitress? He couldn’t have sounded more appalled, if he’d tried.”
“Sure he could have, if he’d tried.” Archer chuckled, hoping to pull her out of her grump.
But instead of brightening, her eyes flashed a belated capitulation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Braddock, for venting like that. You’re his grandfather and the last person I should be ranting to about this. I should be in my room, haranguing Adam in private while I pack, instead of maligning him to you.” She paused, frowned, looked unhappy, but resigned. “I wish I could be here for the party, but there’s no way I can stay now. He’s going to fire me and I’ll have to leave. Probably today.”
“I’m not going to let him fire you, Katie.”
Her smile thanked him. “He’s your grandson. It’s more important that he be here, and happy, for your party than for me to stick around and cause problems. The arrangements are all set, basically. Someone else could oversee the final preparations. There’s really no reason for you to stick your neck out for me.”
Archer decided, despite Ilsa’s cautionary advice, to run just a bit of interference. “Other than the fact that I want you to be at my birthday party?” he began gently. “Other than the fact that I hate to see my grandson throw away his best chance at true love because of a little ice water?”
Katie stopped pacing altogether. “T-true love?” she repeated, her voice squeaking on the words, as if he had made a joke and she hadn’t quite caught the punchline.
Sending a silent apology to Ilsa, Archer plunged on. “I knew ten minutes after I met my Janey that I would love her until the day I died. It took about two weeks to convince her that I wasn’t crazy and two years of marriage before she confessed it had taken her less than a minute to know I was the right guy for her. I’m telling you that, Katie, because love is a precious gift, whether it happens in an instant or grows slower than an oak tree. Adam has found that gift in you, Katie. He’s in love with you. You must know that, even if he doesn’t.”
Her expression shifted, all trace of humor blanching into panic. “L-love?” she repeated again. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. He hardly knows me. He doesn’t even like me. He wants me to be different, not impulsive, more like him. He wants me to wear shoes.” Her voice trailed off, but Archer could see the rundown of evidence as it flitted across her expression and then, the dawning of awareness in her eyes, the coalescence of possibility…probability…certainty—not that Adam was in love with her, but that she was in love with him. Truly. For always. She looked stunned, scared…and determined not to show it. “No,” she denied. “We come from completely different backgrounds, have conflicting ideas about what’s important. It would never work, even if…even if…” But he could see the barriers falling even as she struggled to list them. “I mean, he comes from all this. He’s a Braddock.” She gestured vaguely, encompassing the power, wealth and privilege that was a viable part of the name. “And I’m a…a waitress!”
“Don’t be a snob, Katie. You’re a woman of many talents. He’s a man with unplumbed depths. Adam shouldn’t be punished because his last name is Braddock, any more than you should be penalized for who you have chosen to be. It’s the experiences of your hearts you need to consider, not the separate lives you’ve led up until your paths merged onto this one.” He could see he’d overdone it, pushed too hard. She was backing away from him in spirit, even before her feet took the first backward steps. Realizing he probably should have heeded Ilsa’s advice, Archer touched her hand, leaving a streak of rich, dark soil on her fair skin. “Forgive an old man his meddling, Katie,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Mark it down to the sobering reality of yet another birthday. I had hoped to see at least one of my grandsons settled by now, had thought perhaps I might live to see the start of a new generation of Braddocks.” He let his voice quaver a little, shamelessly appealing to her sympathy. “Age makes a man soft, you know, in the heart as well as the head…and I’m not embarrassed to say that if I could choose for Adam, you’d be my pick.”
Her eyes misted with emotion. Or at least, Archer chose to believe they did. “Thank you,” she said and leaned forward to press an affectionate kiss to his wizened cheek. “That’s a lovely thing to say, but—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I know. I should mind my own business.”
“He’s going to fire me,” she said, as if it were certain.
“Stay for my party, Katie. Please.”
She was reluctant to commit. “I’ll stay until Adam orders me to go,” she compromised.
When she had left and he was alone in the deep green sanctuary, Archer allowed himself a low, satisfied chuckle. “Yes, yes,” he said aloud, imagining his Janey present there with him and chiding him gently for his interference. “I know it’s not the way you or Ilsa would handle such delicate matters, but it didn’t turn out so badly, now, did it? I just gave her something to think about, tweaked the situation a little, that’s all.”
There was a soft rustling from the Norfolk pine, a sound as uncertain as an angel’s exasperated sigh…probably nothing more than an insect alighting on a branch. But Archer returned to his gardening with a happy, hopeful heart.
KATIE STUFFED everything into the duffel bag, pulled out the new dresses, then jammed them back in again. She’d never had so much trouble packing before. That’s what came of buying new clothes, of enjoying the feel of new fabric, of paying too much attention to what she wore. Adam had done that to her. Made her aware, self-conscious. Made her fall in love with him.
With a sigh, she sank to the floor and pulled everything out of the duffel. Time to start over. Begin anew. Quit while she was ahead. But her hand closed around the red dress and wouldn’t let go. She’d been in love before…that heady, kick-up-your-heels state-of-being where colors were brighter and music was softer, and the whole world slowed to a waltz. It was one of her favorite experiences. But this wasn’t like that. Since her conversation with Adam’s grandfather earlier, this had become a roller coaster of a ride and she was scared, exhilarated, scared, off-balance…scared. Life was too short to feel like this. She’d wanted Adam’s attention, sure. Had set out and schemed to get it. Maybe she’d even wanted him to fall in love with her. Well, of course, she had. What red-blooded American woman wouldn’t want Adam Braddock besotted with love for her?
But Katie hadn’t meant for it to be the real deal, the one true love of his life. Certainly not that. She’d thought—if she’d actually thought about it at all—that she and Adam might share a summer romance, something that ended when the party was over, not something that didn’t…gulp…end at all.
Well, Mr. Braddock was wrong. That’s all there was to it. She and Adam were barely even on the same planet. They had no future together. She’d dumped ice water on him and he was going to fire her. Period. End of story. She stuffed the red dress into the bag first this time, crushing it into the far corner, and tossing in everything else on top. She’d check in with the agency Monday, see what housing was available in Borneo. Or Alaska. That might be far enough away from here for her to find a nice forgetfulness.
Her hand closed over the plastic-covered sample pack of nail polish and she hesitated. Red, blue, lime green, purple, yellow, orange, pink, gold, silver and magenta. Circus colors. Ten of them. She did hate to miss the party. She’d worked really hard on it, and to quit now…well, it felt wrong, as if she’d been cheated. She’d never been in charge of planning anything before and, even though she’d had considerable help in decision-making from Ilsa, she’d made all the contacts, organized all the arrangements herself, actually planned the whole party. And she’d like to see it through. She’d told Mr. Braddock she would stay. Maybe she could, too. Really there was no reason she couldn’t stay just one more week. Running away would work just as well a week from Sunday. It didn’t have to happen today.
Except that Adam was going to fire her and it would be much harder to act like a party planner after that. Maybe she could appeal to his practical side, point out that he couldn’t replace her at this late date—which Adam, being Adam, would take as a challenge to prove that he most certainly could replace her.
Katie sighed, resolutely set the nail polish in her give-away pile, and zipped the duffel bag. She was ready. One thing about traveling light, it didn’t take long to pack. She glanced at her little travel clock. Six o’clock. Adam might even be home by now. She’d spent the day firming up details for the party. If she was going to get fired, she wanted Adam to know that she had, at least, done the job he’d begged her to do. He’d be sorry when he realized what a good job she’d done, too. He’d be sorry he hadn’t listened to her. Sorry he hadn’t trusted her. Sorry he hadn’t been more careful about breaking her heart.
But that was the other thing about traveling light. No room for emotional baggage. Worst case scenario: she’d just have to leave her heart behind this time and let it catch up once it was on the mend. It was a shame really, that this experience couldn’t have lasted a little longer. She liked it here, liked Braddock Hall, liked the town and the people in it.
Sitting back on her heels, she wondered what would happen at the town council meeting on Saturday. Would the council vote to brick or not to brick? To put up flags or tinsel reindeer? She closed her eyes and imagined herself living here in Sea Change, owning a little tea and sandwich shop on Dockside Avenue, participating in the fusses that passed for city management in this quaint old town. Her fantasy grew by leaps and bounds—she decorated the tea and sandwich shop in eclectic motifs that could be changed on a whim; she campaigned for a seat on the council, won the election and voted Adam out of the chairmanship. Now that would be a fairy-tale ending, she decided.
A tap on her door popped the daydream in mideffervescent bubble.
“Mr. Adam would like to see you in his study,” Abbott said when she opened the door.
Katie frowned. “When?”
The butler looked apologetic, as if he knew the axe was about to fall. “He’s waiting for you now.”
She got up. “I’ll just put on my shoes.”
“Miss Katie? I’ve, uh, taken the liberty of leaving a pitcher of water in Mr. Adam’s study…in case you need it.”
Her smile flashed in surprise. “Why, thank you, Abbott. I’m touched.”
His lips barely made the bend to a smile, but his nod told her she wasn’t without supporters in the household, even if their loyalty lay with Adam.
Of course, she’d have to be touched in the head to go near Adam with another water pitcher. She’d be lucky if he didn’t empty one over her in retaliation. Still, it was a nice gesture for Abbott to have made. With a long, drawn-out sigh, she slipped on her sturdy Old Maine Trotters and headed downstairs to face the firing squad.
“COME IN, KATIE.” Adam stood, tall and stern-looking behind his desk.
She lifted her chin from the safety of the doorway.
“Abbott said you wanted to see me?”
“Close the door.”
She stomped down the temptation to make a run for it while she still had the chance and reminded herself that she could have marched out while he was at the office, and she still had a full head of steam. He could have fussed and fumed to his heart’s content once she was gone when it would have been no skin off her nose. But she hadn’t done that. No, she’d waited around all day for him to come home and fire her because she’d told Mr. Braddock she would. And because Adam would have considered any other action cowardice. No way did she want him to think she was afraid to face him.
She wasn’t, as it happened, so she closed the door and turned around, her knees shaking like yellow Jell-O, her backside as close to the door as she could get it. “Yes?” she said in her coolest tones. No way would she make this easy for him either.
“Did you catch the hem of your dress in the door?” he asked, pleasantly enough. “Looks like you may be trapped there.”
She stepped into the center of the room to prove she was as loose as he was, and indifferent into the bargain. “Nope, not enough fabric in this dress for that.” She gave an impulsive, self-conscious tug at the ruffled hem of the little black dress. “So if I had been caught between the door and the doorframe, you’d be facing a big fat personal injury lawsuit.”
“I see.” He moved slowly to the front of the desk. “Should I write you a check now?”
She blinked. “Wouldn’t you rather wait until I’m actually injured?”
His lips curved in a slow smile and her stupid heart dropped like a rock at his feet. She had to get off of this roller coaster. “I was referring,” he continued, “to the check for the five thousand I agreed to pay you for planning Grandfather’s party.”
“Oh.” This certainly wasn’t the way she thought these conversations usually began. “It was five thousand then and five thousand after the party,” she reminded him because she wanted to sound professional. “Plus a very generous budget.” She managed a Mona Lisa smile. “Oh, yes, and carte blanche. Don’t forget that.”
“No.” He crossed his arms across his stomach. Not a particularly friendly gesture. “Nell tells me you never picked up your retainer. She says you never even called to ask about it.”
Katie snapped her fingers. “I knew I forgot something.”
He nodded, as if he believed her. “I intend to pay you for, uh, your services, Katie. I think you’ve earned it.”
A ripple of anger flared from lukewarm to boiling, stiffening the backs of her knees. “If you’re going to insult me, Adam, don’t beat around the bush. I’d much rather you just came right out and accused me of being a prostitute, instead of just insinuating it!”
His arms dropped to his sides and his jaw went slack. “I beg your pardon?”
“You can beg it all you like, but believe me, there is no need for you to insult me just so you can feel justified in firing me. And just so you know, I was going to quit anyway.” She spun for the door, furious, disbelieving…mortally wounded.
Amazingly, he beat her to the door and held it closed with one hand while reaching for her with the other. “Katie. Katie. Will you listen to me? I was not insulting you. I was trying to give you the five thousand dollars you’ve already earned in planning this party. It would never occur to me to…to try to pay you for what happened between us last night. That wouldn’t be just an insult—to both of us, by the way—it would be an outright sacrilege.”
She looked up, her fury deflating like a pricked balloon, quickly replaced by a heated embarrassment…and a sweet thrill at his last words. “A…a sacrilege?” she repeated, liking the sound of that.
“Or worse,” he assured her. “You seem to jump to the wrong conclusions on the flimsiest of excuses.”
“All this talk of money makes me nervous,” she offered in a reedy voice. “I thought you called me down here to fire me.”
“Fire you?” His grip on her arm changed from restraint to reassurance. “Why would you think that?”
She hated to bring this up. She really did. “Because of this morning. Because of the…” She made an eloquent gesture at the water pitcher, so thoughtfully provided by Abbott, the too-efficient butler. “You know.”
His gaze followed the dispirited wave of her hand. “Ah, yes, the ice water. I imagine we ought to talk about that.”
Her chin came up. “You deserved it.”
“Hmm.” He ran a hand the length of her lower arm, probably fully aware of how his touch affected her, of how it turned her resolve to mush. He was definitely taking unfair advantage. “I’ve been thinking about that most of the day. Thinking about you. And me.”
“In between phone calls and faxes, you mean?”
“I didn’t accomplish a blessed thing all day.”
She peered up at him, hopeful. “Not even the first draft of an apology?”
He frowned at that. “I was sort of hoping we could call this morning’s incident a draw.”
“Not a chance. You behaved abominably.”
“Oh, and dumping a gallon of ice water in my lap was right out of Miss Manner’s rules of etiquette?”
She blushed, but wasn’t backing down. With his hand on her arm, his fingertips stroking her as they were, she thought maybe she wasn’t going to get fired after all. “Page 336,” she said. “It’s in the footnotes.”
“You are a piece of work, Katie Canton,” he said and kissed her.
Okay, so it wasn’t the apology he owed her, but it would do in a pinch.
ADAM HADN’T MEANT to forgive her before getting the explanations he wanted, but he couldn’t seem to stay focused when she was anywhere near him. Kissing, and other similar delights, were practically all he’d thought about the entire day. The minute she’d stepped inside his study, all flushed and saucy, well…it wasn’t really so surprising that he’d forgotten the conversation he’d meant to have with her and seized temptation with greedy hands. For the moment, it was enough to know that last night hadn’t been a trick of the moonlight or an accident of libido. Whatever magical spell she’d used on him before was still in force.
When the kiss came to a sweetly reluctant end, he enclosed her in his arms and simply enjoyed the way her body fit against his, figuring as long as she was this close, she couldn’t be reaching for idle water containers. But, with uncanny ability, she seemed to read his mind. “Just because you’re an excellent kisser, Adam, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed with you.”
He tightened his hold on her, nuzzled her dark curls. “Sssh,” he soothed. “Stay right where you are and see if the feeling passes.”
“What if you just say you’re sorry for the way you acted and I’ll see how I feel about that?”
She felt really wonderful in his arms. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said.
“You bet I do. It’s a God-given talent, too, so there’s no point in fighting it. Just apologize and get it over with. Trust me, it’s for the best.”
“I meant, Katie, I’m not sure why you were upset with me this morning.”
She stiffened. “Let me refresh your memory, then. That was you?” she mimicked. “The waitress?”
“You misunderstood,” he said, happy to give his side. “I was surprised, yes, when—”
“Stunned,” she corrected coolly.
“Stunned,” he agreed. “When I realized we’d met before at The Torrid Tomato and that you were a waitress, not the party planner I assumed you to be when I talked to you on the phone. I was not casting aspersions on your field of endeavor or, for that matter, on the career of waiting tables, in general. I only thought you should have told me the truth the first time we talked.”
She drew back a little, although he made no move to let her go, and she looked at him with skeptical astonishment. “You were appalled to discover I was a former waitress and Johnny-come-lately to this whole party-planning experience,” she said. “Admit it.”
He stiffened a little himself. “I believed you’d lied to me about who you were, yes.”
Shaking her head, she looked at him with rueful sympathy. “Really, Adam, you desperately need to work on your listening skills.” She patted the breast pocket of his suit coat. “I told you that first evening on the phone that you’d dialed the wrong number, had the wrong person. I said you’d made a mistake. I even told your secretary that when I talked to her, but you persisted, insisted I was who you’d decided I was, instead of just admitting you might have made a mistake.”
He frowned, finding this a bit hard to swallow. “Mrs. Fairchild told me at lunch that day she knew a reputable events planner and gave me the number.”
“By mistake.”
“She told you that?”
“No, but that’s what it was. I gave her my number, wrote it on her business card because of the Tai Chi class. You probably weren’t paying the slightest attention at the time. But afterward, somehow, she accidentally gave that card to you. But my point is that however the mix-up originally occurred, this whole misunderstanding could have been prevented if you’d actually listened to what I said instead of proceeding on what you’d already decided was true.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “And you’re completely innocent in this lack of meaningful communication? It was all entirely my fault?”
She had the grace to look a trifle guilty. “Well, Adam, you are a very persuasive man, and you did offer me a ride in a Rolls-Royce. And consider this, if I hadn’t given up on trying to convince you not to hire me, you wouldn’t be here now, about to spend quite another spectacular night.” She smiled up at him and that was all it took. He kissed her again.
Halfway through her very satisfying response, his private phone rang. And, by reflex, he answered.
JUST WHEN Katie had begun to think maybe her heart and Adam’s might have a great deal in common after all, he answered his phone. His conversation took him away from her in a heartbeat, and she resented the interruption almost as much as she begrudged the caller his focused and intense attention. What had she been thinking…even for a moment? He would never give up this life, never sacrifice the adrenaline rush of a business deal for the relaxed, live-in-the-moment life she treasured. And she could never fit into his world. She liked going barefoot and traveling light much too much to be content within the structure of the rules he lived by every moment of every day. His middle name was responsibility. Hers, varied from day to day. Even if he could change, even if she could bear to ask him to, it would never work.
Once the newness of his experience with her wore off, he’d probably answer his phone in the middle of making love to her. And he would never understand why she might resent that. He was all business, all the time already, and any moments she managed to steal from Braddock Industries would be costly. With a sigh, she slipped free of his embrace.
He didn’t even seem to notice. “Of course. I’ll meet you at the hangar in—” he glanced at his ever-present watch “—an hour. Yes, Lara, I know. I’m leaving right now.”
Cutting off the call, he offered Katie an apologetic smile and tipped up her chin with his fingers. “I have to leave,” he said. “An emergency. I’ll have Nell get that check to you and if you haven’t already, be sure your resource people know to send their bills to my office.”
“Anything else?” she asked, wishing he were a different kind of man, more like her, less focused, often impulsive, and that he didn’t always have on shoes with a high-gloss finish. “Any other instructions I should follow?”
He smiled, not even aware her sadness went deeper than this simple goodbye. “Yes,” he said. “Wait for me.” He leaned in, kissed her sweetly, and left her there.
It was, Katie thought, only marginally better than being fired.