Heather Graham (27 page)

Katie smiled. “I guess that would be a good idea.”

They both stood. Anne looked almost as if she wanted to touch Katie; she didn’t. Instead she said, “It’s really all right with me if you want to sleep with my father.”

Katie felt the blood drain from her face, and she lowered her eyes. The words had been said with no rancor, with no desire to hurt.

“I’d like it if you came with me,” Anne said. “Maybe he won’t be so mad at me.”

Katie lifted her eyes to Anne’s and shook her head. “I’ve got to go, Anne. And you have to face your father by yourself. I’m very glad that I got to meet you. But I … I won’t be seeing your father again.”

Anne frowned. “But why—”

“Why is my business, and his,” Katie said flatly. But she smiled again, then offered Anne her hand. Anne hesitated, then took it.

“Go on now,” Katie said. “I told you what’s important is you and your dad. I meant it. Go fix things.”

Anne started out of the shed uncertainly, turning back to Katie.

“You’re not going to stay in the shed, are you?”

Katie shook her head. “No, I’m coming.”

She followed Anne back around the trail in the snow. Every once in a while, Anne turned around to be sure that Katie was following.

She stopped once and said, “You really scratched my father and gave him those scars?”

Katie nodded. “I’m not particularly proud of it,” she murmured.

“Where on earth did you get the nerve?” Anne demanded, and Katie had to laugh. “I mean, he’s awfully big. He could chew you up in one gulp if he decided to—even now.”

He has chewed me up, Katie thought. But she kept that reflection to herself and replied, “I guess because my father was there—and I knew he’d never let your father kill me.”

Anne shook her head, lost in her own reflection.

“Anne,” Katie persisted quietly, and Anne started walking again.

They reached the house and went in. Bill was sitting on the sofa. “Where’s Dad?” Anne asked, having to clear her throat first.

Bill inclined his head toward the bedroom. “He’s on the phone. Seems they fixed the wires. He’s telling your mom that you’re here, and that you’re okay.”

“Anne?”

The question came from Kent. Katie, standing just inside the doorway, saw him step into the hall from the bedroom. He was fully dressed; his features were strained and haggard, his voice gruff; and his hands were on his hips. But his voice spoke of his pain and his love for his daughter.

“Oh, Dad!” Anne cried out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” And then she was running down the hallway, catapulting into his arms.

Katie saw Kent’s eyes close. She saw his arms wrap tightly around his daughter with love.

“We’ve got some talking to do, young lady,” he told her then, sternly but with understanding. He set her down and indicated the bedroom. “But first I’ve got your mother on the line. Go talk to her so that she can hear your voice and know you’re okay.”

Anne went into the bedroom.

For one minute Kent’s eyes rose and met Katie’s. They were very dark, thoughtful, and reflective. But she didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling. She couldn’t begin to tell. She returned his stare without moving or smiling. And she thought that it was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done in her life to walk out.

Kent spoke very quietly. She couldn’t tell if there was warmth in his voice or anger. “I’ll deal with you shortly,” he told her, and then he followed his daughter into the bedroom.

Katie was left with a picture of him in her mind—the striking dark power of his eyes, his anger, his warmth.

She turned her gaze to Bill. “Can you please get me down to your place in the Jeep?” she asked.

Bill shuffled in his seat uneasily.

“Well, I—I think that Kent wants a word with you first, Katie Hudson.”

Katie tried a very winning smile. “Bill, today should be special between Kent and Anne. I can talk to him later. Please, can you get me out of here?”

“What about your things—”

“I just need my purse and my coat. Kent can send the rest of my stuff. Please, Bill, it’s very important.”

The old man sighed, definitely unhappy about the entire situation.

“Please?” Katie asked softly.

“All right, but put your coat on, girl, and button up. The storm’s gone, but it’s colder than a witch’s tit out there!”

Katie bowed her head, amused by his expression. Then she realized that she wasn’t going to laugh after all; she couldn’t, not when she felt so much like crying.

Bill helped her into her jacket. They left the cabin, closing the door quietly behind them.

Katie left the mountain, promising herself that she wouldn’t look back.

T
HE FLIGHT FROM DENVER
to Philadelphia had been long, yet in many ways, not long enough. Kent had never felt closer to his daughter or more introspective about himself. It was strange; he had always thought that he knew her well, but now he realized he had only known what she had wanted him to see. He had thought that he had been good—decent and responsible. He had only seen what he chose to.

Anne knew that she was going to be punished; she had stolen the money from her stepfather to buy the plane ticket, which she ordered over the phone, by pretending to be her mother.

But Kent was almost sorry he was going to have to take action against her; she was so repentant and so sweet and so in need to be held by him that he felt as if his heart was breaking.

And though he didn’t quite know how or why, he knew the bond that resulted from the chaos was due to Katie.

Anne fell asleep halfway through the return trip, and Kent was left to ponder another complex problem of his heart—Katie Hudson.

She had gone; left him as she had promised to do. She had vowed that he would miss her. He did. He missed her in a way that hurt, a way that not even the sweet love of his own flesh and blood, cuddled trustingly beside him, could cure.

What was the truth? he wondered bitterly. Did it even matter? He wanted her no matter what had happened before this weekend, but she was gone, determined that she didn’t want to see him again.

And then there was the game. Almighty heaven. Just what was going on? He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. In a little over twenty-four hours he would have to report back to work. The team would move to New Orleans to start practicing on the playing field.

What would Katie be doing? And why couldn’t he stop himself from caring so vehemently?

Well, he thought sheepishly, she’d duped him, for one thing, disappearing when he’d meant to challenge her, competently taking herself away. He scowled, knowing he’d try to make sure she made it back to New York all right as soon as possible.

If only he could stop thinking about her—just for a little while!

They reached Philadelphia by early evening. Paula was crying as she held and greeted Anne at first. Then, having ascertained that her daughter really was okay, she became angry, telling Anne the same thing that Kent had, another stunt like that and she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. But Paula’s anger couldn’t last because Anne was in such a state of tears herself, asking her mother if she could go and try to set things straight with her stepfather.

Paula’s and Kent’s eyes met over their daughter’s head, and they both smiled a little, pleased that, now that Anne had made her peace with them, she was so eager to do so with Ted.

When Anne had hurried up the stairs to confront her stepfather, Paula brought Kent coffee in the parlor.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” Paula asked,

He shook his head. “We had plenty on the plane.”

Paula took her coffee and curled up on the other end of the sofa, watching him with a dry smile. “It was probably my fault, Kent. I had no idea what she was thinking. And she’d just seen you—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Paula, really. And everything is fine.”

Paula gazed at her coffee. “So where is Miss Hudson?”

“In New York—I hope,” Kent said with a scowl.

Paula frowned. “What happened? Did Anne—”

“Anne caught me in bed, yes. And I reacted badly, yes.”

“And what about Miss Hudson?”

Kent got up, stuck his hands in his pockets, and started pacing around the small confines of the room.

He paused at last, looking blindly out the prettily decorated window. “Anne called her a whore.”

“Oh, God, no!” Paula gasped. “What did she do?”

“Who, Anne?”

“No, Miss Hudson.”

Kent fell back into his seat at the end of the sofa and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know, exactly. She went out to talk to Anne, and Anne came back full of repentance.”

“And then?”

“Anne and I made it up.”

“And Miss Hudson?”

“Katie … disappeared.”

“Disappeared? Kent, on a mountain—”

“Not alone. She got Bill to take her down.”

“Because of Anne?”

“No,” Kent said quietly with a wince, “because of me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, Paula, not really. Not yet. And I—I can’t really talk about it, yet.”

“Okay,” Paula said. She stood up. “Are you staying?”

“Uh—yes, overnight, I guess. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind, and you know I don’t. I’m glad that you can stay. I think it will be good for Anne to have the three of us here tonight. United ogres, you might say.”

Kent smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Paula, can I use the phone?”

“Sure. Go on into Ted’s den if you want some privacy.”

Kent did so. Paula went to the foot of the stairs. She could hear the low murmur of her daughter’s voice and that of her husband. She smiled; they were working it out. Ted was such a good man, she thought, and he loved Anne with a devotion that almost equaled that of her natural father.

Paula brought the coffee cups into the kitchen and refilled them. When she came back into the parlor, she paused. She could hear Kent softly swearing away in the den.

He came out, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, the skin of his face stretched with anger.

Paula didn’t say anything; if he wanted to talk about it, he would.

“Dammit!” he exploded.

“What?” she asked softly. She hadn’t been good at all handling the man as a wife; as a friend she was damned efficient.

He looked at her, his eyes very dark and flashing, a little distracted. “She’s got a damned answering machine on. I hate those damned machines!”

Paula didn’t think it prudent to remind him that he had an answering machine himself.

“I’m sure she’s all right,” Paula said reassuringly. “Did you try the magazine offices?”

“Yes, but they’re closed for the day.” He sat again, more frustrated than Paula had seen him in years. He looked at her suddenly. “Does Ted have any of the New York papers from Saturday handy?”

“Yes, I think so. In his den. He won’t mind. Go ahead and look through them.”

Kent got up and headed to the den again. He paused. “Thanks, Paula.”

“For what?” she asked.

Kent just smiled and went into the den.

Later that night, when Anne had gone up to bed and Kent and Ted had taken a ride out to buy milk and bread, Paula slipped into the den. She found the Saturday paper on top of Ted’s desk, opened to one of the sports pages.

She read the article, then thoughtfully closed the paper. When the men returned, she didn’t say a word. Eventually, she and Ted went up to bed. But hours later, she awakened. Frowning, she put on her robe and went downstairs.

Kent was still wide awake, sipping a beer and staring broodingly into the fire.

“Kent!”

He looked at her distractedly. “I’m sorry, Paula, did I awaken you?”

She shook her head. “No. But, Kent, you’ve got to get some sleep. The Superbowl is less than two weeks away now; you’re not a young kid. You’ve got to take care of yourself, or they’ll tear you up out there.”

He laughed suddenly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s a vote for reason,” Paula said sharply.

“I just can’t sleep …” He looked up at her again, then rose, putting a friendly arm around her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll go up to bed, and I’ll make myself sleep.”

He paused at the foot of the staircase. “I may go to New York tomorrow afternoon. Think it would upset Annie? I could drive back tomorrow night, then fly home Tuesday morning and make it in plenty of time to get to New Orleans with the team.”

“It sounds okay to me.”

He smiled at her and brushed her cheek with his knuckle. Paula smiled softly in return, for one brief moment allowing herself to remember what it had been like to be married to this man.

“You’re a great lady, Paula, the best,” he told her tenderly.

“You’re a little wonderful yourself, Cougar,” she said lightly. “Kent …”

“Yes?”

“You know, I’m always going to love you a little.”

“I’m always going to love you, Paula.”

They both smiled. When Kent started up the stairs, Paula hung back a minute, then gave herself a mental shake.

She loved Ted with all her heart; they had been made for one another. She started up the stairs. To her husband’s surprise and delight, she woke him in a very erotic way. Later, exhausted and very much at peace with herself, Paula fell asleep.

Kent still lay awake brooding, wishing that morning would come so he could put through his calls to New York once again.

Julie started when Katie literally slammed the door when she arrived at the offices of
World Magazine
on Tuesday morning. She eyed her friend curiously.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I plan on telling Raff what to do with his story,” Katie said bluntly. “And his job,” she added more softly, “if my career here hinges on this one article.” She smiled bleakly at Julie, then hurried past the reception desk and the rows of little cubicles that led to her own.

Julie paused for a minute, grimaced, then rose to follow Katie back to her desk. She leaned against the door frame, a delicate brow rising as she watched Katie set down her purse and hang up her coat.

“I’ve a score of messages for you.”