A Bridge to Love (21 page)

Well,
she had gotten herself into this position, and she would just have to find a
way to get herself out. Once Clay was on the road to recovery.

Slow
footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned around.

Randall
stopped, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down.

Kate
drew in a deep breath to begin her apology.

“I
owe you an apology,” Randall said. He looked at her from under lowered black
brows. “It's just that every time I see you, I want to drag you into the
nearest broom closet and make love to you until we're both limp.”

Kate
laughed, torn between embarrassment and relief. “I can't picture you limp.”

Randall
smiled back, bringing out the deepest creases beside his mouth. “I'll take that
as a compliment. Truce?” he said, holding out his hand.

His
hand swallowed hers as she slid her palm into his grasp. “Truce. It was
unforgivable of me to be so rude when you've been nothing but generous and
helpful.”

“Don't
overdo it. I've been wrong, too,” he reminded her. He let go of her hand. “If
you'll give me your insurance card, I'll make sure that it's on Clay's
admittance forms.”

“A
concession,” Kate said as she dug into her pocketbook for the card. “This
really is a truce! Now what do I have to concede?”

“Use
your imagination, darlin',” Randall drawled, taking the card and walking away.

Kate
checked her watch, paced around the waiting area, and wondered how she was
going to get through another two hours. She was examining a painting on the
wall when Randall returned and gave her back her insurance card. “All taken
care of.”

She
smiled at him. “Doing what you do best.”

Randall's
answering smile was brief. He walked over to the coffeemaker, fiddled with a
foam cup, then said abruptly, “You want to know what I want from you?”

“Ye-e-es...”

“I
want you to look at me like you did on the roof today.”

“How
did I look at you?” she asked, startled.

“Like
you were glad to see me.”

Kate
blinked hard against tears that welled up again. “You have no idea how glad I
was to see you,” she whispered.

His
eyes locked with hers, and they both went completely still.

“Tell
me.”

“Mr.
Johnson, your delivery is here,” the reception nurse called out.

Randall
gave Kate an unreadable look as he strode past her.

A
man dressed in a chef's white side-buttoned coat stood at the desk with two
coolers. Randall greeted him and handed one cooler to the nurse, saying, “I
figured that you might be ready for some dessert.”

“From
the Four Seasons? I'd have settled for some dinner rolls!” the nurse joked.

Randall
picked up the second cooler and brought it back into the waiting room. Pulling
over a low table, he started setting containers of food out on it. Kate watched
him with her arms crossed, and her eyebrows raised. Randall finally
straightened and met her eyes.

“I
couldn't blame you for not eating the dreck in the cafeteria, so I ordered
something edible.”

“From
the Four Seasons?”

He
shrugged. “Julian and I are old friends. And I owed you dinner there anyway,”
he added with a flash of a smile.

“I
thought you were going to stop being arrogant and high-handed.” Kate made an
effort to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.

“I
have to ease into it slowly.”

“If
I weren't so hungry, I'd throw this shrimp cocktail at you,” she said as she
sat down and pulled the covers off the dishes. “Mmm, corn chowder with
crabmeat. What heaven!”

She
was halfway through the meal when she realized that Randall was just watching
her. “Aren't you going to eat?”

He
shook his head. “I had a plate of meat loaf in the cafeteria. And I'm enjoying
the sight of a lady who likes her food.”

“You're
going to make me slurp my soup or something equally gauche if you just sit
there staring at me.”

“I
can't stay much longer anyway. I have to be in Texas tomorrow on business, and
I have a plane to catch tonight. But I had to make sure that you ate
something.”

“Sometimes
you are the nicest man,” Kate said, as her heart sank at the thought of his
absence. “And other times you are the most annoying one.”

“Keep
'em guessing, that's my motto,” he said grinning at her. “Finish your dinner.
I'll have some of those mussels to keep you company.”

They
ate in companionable silence. After the dishes were stowed back in the cooler,
Randall checked his watch and stood up.

“Call
my private number when you hear anything and leave a message. I'll call you
back as soon as I can.”

Kate
stood up, too. “I don't have your private number.”

Randall
looked at her. “It's the same one I've given you already. Twice, in fact.”

“I've
thrown it away already. Twice, in fact.”

He
pulled out a business card to write on. “Don't throw this one away.”

“I
won't.”

“Call
Gail if you need anything quickly. And don't worry, Clay will be fine.”

Then
he leaned down and kissed her. It began gently, but when Kate tilted her head
to give him a better angle, he pulled her against him with arms that felt like
steel bands across her back. Kate ran her fingers up into his hair and held on,
releasing all her pent-up guilt and worry and gratitude into the kiss.

When
she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with some of the arousal she expected,
but something else that she couldn't quite decipher was in his eyes as well. He
took a ragged breath. “Where's that broom closet when you need it?”

Kate
disengaged herself from his arms. Unsure of how to react, she pulled out the
crutch of correct social behavior. “Have a good trip.”

He
made no attempt to hold on to her. Yet he continued to stare at her with that
enigmatic expression on his face.

“We'll
finish this when I get back,” he finally said.

Then
he literally turned on his heel and walked out.

“Good-bye,”
Kate called.

She
sat down slowly, aware of an aching sense of abandonment. It was ridiculous;
she couldn't expect someone as busy as Randall Johnson to sit with her for
hours in a hospital waiting room. He had already done far more than she had any
right to hope. But when he kissed her like that, she wanted the moon and the
stars from him.

“Mrs.
Chilton?”

Kate
stopped pacing and turned to find Dr. Lane smiling at her.

She
smiled tentatively in response. “You look pleased. Did it go well?”

“Extremely
well. Sit down for a minute,” he said, seating himself beside her. “Clay was
lucky; the ER doctor did a good job of preserving the tissues. I was able to
reattach all the muscles and ligaments without any loss of length. The nerves
look good, too. If he works hard at his physical therapy, he'll never know he
got bitten.”

“Oh
thank God!” Kate breathed. “And thank
you
so very much.”

“Some
people accuse me of thinking I
am
God,” the surgeon joked.

His
jubilant mood reassured Kate even more than his words did. “When can I see my
son?”

“He's
in the recovery room now, and he'll stay there until the anesthesia wears off.
If you'd like to be with him when he wakes up, you may sit with him.”

Kate
stood instantly. As they walked down the hall, she asked, “How long do you want
to keep him here?”

“I'd
like him to stay through tomorrow. If all goes well, he can go home Wednesday.
But I'll want to see him every week until I'm satisfied that he's healing
properly.”

“Of
course,” Kate said.
Clay will think it a
great comedown to have to drive to the hospital
, she thought wryly.

“And
I'm going to refer you to a doctor in New Jersey who will change his bandages
regularly.” Dr. Lane pushed open a door for her. “He may be slightly
disoriented when he first opens his eyes. Don't be concerned.”

“I
won't,” Kate said, turning to shake his hand. “Dr. Lane, I can't begin to thank
you adequately...”

“Just
invite me to his first art show in New York City,” the doctor said. “That's all
the thanks I need.”

“You'll
be at the top of the list,” Kate promised.

She
turned to Clay. His hand was bound to an elaborate arrangement of splints and
swathed in gauze. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She straightened the
already pristine sheets and gently touched his face. Then she settled down to
wait for the first flicker of returning consciousness.

Eighteen

Randall checked his voice mail
for the third time and was rewarded. There was a brief, whispered message from
Kate, saying that Dr. Lane was very optimistic and Clay was still sleeping.

He
smiled as he punched the “end” button. Glancing down at the papers spread out
on the table in front of him, he knew that he should be concentrating on them –
or sleeping himself. He had about four hours before the chartered Learjet
touched down in San Antonio, and he came face-to-face with his past. He shook
his head. He was finally in the driver's seat, and all he wanted was to be back
in a hospital waiting room on Long Island.

He
shoved the contracts to the far side of the table and leaned back in his seat
to get his thinking in order.

He
had known he was in trouble the night of the charity ball. The worst part was
that he didn't feel like he was in trouble. In fact, he felt better than he had
in a long while. Ever since the ball, when he woke up in the morning, he looked
forward to the day. For the first time in years, his future seemed more
compelling than his past.

How
did Kate Chilton do that? He couldn't figure it out.

She
wasn't drop-dead gorgeous – yet he wanted to undress her every time he saw her.

She
generally assumed the worst where his motives were concerned – and she had no
hesitation about telling him so.

Actually,
he liked that about her.

She
could go from ripping him to shreds to thanking him with utter sincerity in two
seconds flat. He had fun when he was with her. Hell, he had fun with her two
boys. The Chiltons knew about his wealth and position, but they didn't let that
change their behavior; they treated him as a fellow human being.

The
image of Kate's face, first at the ball and then on the roof of the hospital,
rose up to keep him honest. He knew that look; she thought of him as more than
just a fellow human being. If he'd seen it on any other woman's face, he would
have sent the lady a diamond bracelet and deleted her name from his Rolodex.
When Kate looked at him like that, something inside him that he thought had
been killed years ago in Mason County, Texas, stirred back to life.

Randall
refused to name the stirring.

He
admitted that she made him want to slay dragons, and if her dragons were hand
surgeons and lieutenant governors, so be it. He found that he enjoyed using all
of his accumulated connections and money for something other than business.

But
the more he did for her, the more Kate pushed him away. She was cussedly independent,
which was another thing he liked about her. She made it clear that her children
were her first priority in life. He admired that. He got a kick out of making
her polished good manners disintegrate. And he loved making her laugh when she
wanted to be pissed at him...

Randall
cursed. His attempt at analysis was deteriorating into a besotted daydream.

All
right, he'd established that Kate made him feel good, that he liked a lot of
things about her, and that he wanted her naked. He allowed himself a few more
moments to dwell on that image. He could handle all of that, especially the
last.

What
he kept backing away from was the softening in his gut when he thought of her.
There was no place for that in his life. He'd worked for years to be where and
what he was, and he wasn't prepared to deviate from his plan at this point.

He
refocused on the contract in front of him. As he read each ironclad clause, he
heard the satisfying slam of a door and the turn of a key in his mind's ear.
Mason County Bank was going to be completely at his mercy. President “Gill”
Gillespie was too blind to realize what was about to hit him. He planned to let
Gill stay president just long enough to watch Mason County Bank get taken apart
and sold off piece by piece. Then he would fire him.

It
was finally Gill Gillespie's turn to find out what it felt like to have your
future wiped out.

Before
he left the plane, Randall walked forward to see the pilot. “Thanks for a good
flight. I'll be back here by six o'clock this evening.”

“Good
luck with your business, Mr. Johnson.”

Randall
walked down the steps carrying nothing more than his briefcase. A limousine was
waiting on the tarmac. The driver raced forward to greet him.

“Welcome
back to Texas, Mr. Johnson. Mr. Gillespie thought you'd like to have lunch at
his home before the business meeting.”

Randall
checked his stride for just a moment, then slowly smiled. “That's very
hospitable of Mr. Gillespie.”

The
car swept around a circular driveway to a stop. The white columns of the
Gillespie mansion gleamed in the Texas sun. For a moment, Randall was a
seventeen-year-old kid with an alcoholic mother and a bad reputation, wanting
everything that Golden Gill Gillespie had: money, influence, family, and a
house with more bathrooms than people. The feeling passed as he remembered the
contract resting in his briefcase. He started to walk up the shallow steps to
the front door when it swung wide open.

“Randall
Johnson, you son of a gun! It's good to have you back in the great state of
Texas.” Gill Gillespie came forward with his hand extended.

Randall
looked at the man he had come to ruin. Gill still had all of his blond hair,
although it had some silver shot through it. His waist had thickened since his
high school days, but he looked like he made some effort to stay in shape. His
eyes retained their clear startling blue despite the red veins in his nose that
indicated a heavy drinker.

Randall
finally shook the bank president's hand. “Gill. You haven't changed much.”

Gill
laughed heartily. “Still got all my hair. But you do too. Although I see you
finally lost the ponytail. I guess those Wall Street sharks you swim with bit
it off a long time ago.”

“Actually,
I'm thinking of growing it back.”

“Midlife
crisis, eh? We all go through those. If the worst you do is grow your hair,
you're doing okay.” Gill's jovial tone disappeared. “You know, I was surprised
when your offer for the bank came through. You haven't kept in touch with
anyone here in Mason County, so I thought there might be some hard feelings
left.”

Randall
smiled. “I feel I should do something for the folks here, for starting me out
in life.”

Gill
was still giving him a hard stare.

Randall
continued to smile. “It was time for some payback,” he continued. “I might
never have left Texas if I hadn't gotten kicked off the football team. I owe
you and your daddy for broadening my horizons.”

Gill
hesitated before relaxing into a smile. “It's good to know you're thinking
positively about the past. This partnership will benefit the whole area. But
let's not talk business until after lunch. Come on in. Lucinda can't wait to
see you again.” A uniformed maid relieved Randall of his briefcase. “You two
dated for a while back in high school, didn't you? Before Lucy and I got
together?”

Randall
examined the house critically as Gill led him through a marble-floored entrance
hall, past a curved double staircase, to an informal sitting room at the back
of the house. The public spaces were typical Texas oil baron, deliberately
ostentatious and expensive. The sitting room was far more tasteful. Sunlight
filtered through gauzy curtains to gently illuminate the comfortable furniture
upholstered in soft pastels. Randall guessed that Lucinda had decorated this
room; her family had been as poor as his, but Lucy had always been able to make
her home look welcoming.

As
though she had stepped out of his thoughts, a tall blond woman came toward him,
both hands outstretched. “Randall Johnson, what a pleasure to see you again.
It's been – what? – twenty years since you've been here.”

Randall
took her hands but did not kiss the cheek she offered him. “Twenty-three. You
look good, Lucinda.”

She
gave him a searching look before she disengaged her hands. “You do, too.
Success agrees with you.”

Randall
raised an eyebrow. “And marriage agrees with you.”

The
pretty girl whom he had loved so many years ago had become a beautiful woman.
Her silver-gilt hair was styled smoothly around the classic oval of her face.
She stood tall and slim in her peach-colored suit and heavy gold jewelry, the
perfect lady-who-lunches. But the green eyes had shadows under them, and the
set of her jaw betrayed a long-standing tension. He had an unexpected urge to
reach out and run his palm down her cheek to relax it. He quelled it without
difficulty.

Gill
walked over to an oil portrait hanging above the fireplace. He beamed as he
pointed to the three girls in the painting, “And these are my beautiful
daughters: Lucy Junior, who's in law school; Danielle, our Texas A&M
scholar; and Rose, who's still in high school. Lucky for them, they all take
after their mother, although Rosie has my blue eyes. I'm sorry you can't meet
them in person.”

Randall
strolled over and examined the picture silently, relishing the tension
emanating from Lucinda. She jumped when he spoke. “You're lucky to be
surrounded by beautiful women, Gill.”

“Damn
straight I am,” Gill laughed. The maid rustled in and spoke quietly to him. He
turned to Randall. “I'm sorry. I'm going to have to excuse myself for a few
minutes. There's a phone call I have to make to the bank before lunch. I'm sure
you and Lucinda will enjoy reminiscing about the good old days.”

Lucinda
half-rose as though to follow him, but then sank back down on the chair and
forced a smile. “Of course, dear.”

Gill
dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I won't be long.”

As
he left, Randall sat down, leaning back to rest his elbows on the padded arms,
steepling his fingers just under his chin. Lucinda perched on the edge of the
couch with her knees and ankles pressed tightly together.

“Does
Gill really think that all we did was date a few times?” Randall asked quietly.

Lucinda
looked away. “I didn't think it was necessary to tell him every detail of my
life. It would just have made things more complicated.”

Randall's
eyebrows rose. “You considered the fact that Lucy might be my daughter a
detail?”

Now
Lucinda looked straight at him. “She's not your daughter.”

“You
weren't so sure twenty-three years ago. Have you had her DNA tested in the
interim to put your mind at ease?”

“I
deserved that. But no, there was never any doubt in my mind.”

“Never
any doubt!” Randall snapped. “I was prepared to marry you because you told me
she was mine! I didn't know how the hell I would support you and a child, but I
was damned well going to do the right thing.” The room was deadly silent for a
long moment. “You played me for a sucker.”

Lucinda
flinched. “I'm not proud of my behavior, but I did what I thought was best for
my child.”

“You
did what you thought was best for you.” Randall swept a look around the room.
“This is a real nice little house, but you could have had a penthouse in
Manhattan, a villa in Tuscany, and a chateau in France if you hadn't decided to
trap Gill instead of me.”

“I
didn't trap Gill. I made a stupid mistake.” Lucinda hesitated a moment and then
softened her voice. “Remember Joe Foster's big pool party? I wanted to go so
badly, and you wouldn't take me because you were studying for finals.”

“Because
Gill and his daddy got me thrown off the football team so that Gill could be
the quarterback. That lost me my scholarship to Texas University. I was
desperate to get an academic scholarship.”

Lucinda
stood up and faced Randall. “That was all Gill's father's idea. He was the one
who wanted the glory for his son. Gill knew that he wasn't as good as you. But
there was no stopping Victor Gillespie once he got an idea in his head.”

“And
Gill lost the championship for us. I enjoyed watching from the bleachers,”
Randall said.

“He
suffered for that. He still hears about it.”

Randall
said nothing.

Lucinda
went back to her story. “You were studying, so I went to the party without you.
Gill asked me if I wanted a ride home, and I thought that just once it would be
nice to see what it was like to be part of the rich crowd. So I took the ride.
When he pulled into the parking lot behind Streeter's Pharmacy to neck, I went
along. And then the necking got heavier and I let that happen, too. I didn't
realize that he hadn't used protection until too late. I was used to you being
so careful.” Lucinda took a deep breath. “I was so angry with you—I felt that
school was more important to you than I was.”

“I
was trying to provide for both of our futures.”

“Well,
I didn't know that, did I?” Lucinda snapped. “You hadn't shared your bad news
with me.”

“I
hadn't accepted it myself,” Randall said, turning away.

A
look of longing crossed Lucinda's face. “I was crazy about you, Randall, but
you scared me.”

Randall
stood up. “Scared you? I never lifted a hand to you. Gill was the one with the
nasty temper.”