Heather Graham (29 page)

“We are a pair of women,” Julie interrupted.

“Who,” Katie continued firmly, “really don’t know much about the world of sports.”

“Oh, come on, Katie. He knows who your father was.”

“And he also knows I’m not crazy about football anymore. And unless Sam Loper told him, he has no idea that I was anywhere near Kent or any of the other Saxons recently.”

Julie shrugged and kept walking. “I just hope it’s a decent restaurant!”

“You called for the reservations.”

“You gave me the name!”

The restaurant Katie had named off the top of her head turned out to be rather nice. It was in the basement of a huge bank building; the decor was Old English, and the clientele seemed to be what Raff would call “upwardly mobile.” The dining room was situated in a little enclave, while a long oak bar, a small bandstand, and a shiny parquet dance floor were set away so that the music would be muted for the diners.

Katie and Julie were early; they decided to sit and order drinks and have the maître d’ bring Paul to the table when he arrived.

Julie gave her friend a critical glance as the waiter hurried off to fill their drink orders. “I don’t think you should have worn that dress.”

Katie stared down at herself consciously, then looked back at Julie. “I wore this because it covers everything.”

Julie surveyed the clinging silk gown Katie wore and sighed. It did have a high neckline and long sleeves, but it hugged Katie’s curves like a glove. “It covers everything—and absolutely enhances everything,” she told Katie.

“Well, it’s too late to change now,” Katie murmured. “Oh, there’s Paul.”

It was easy to see Paul; he towered over other people. He was an attractive man, muscular, but he dressed to appear sleek. His hair was blond, his eyes a friendly hazel. As she watched him then, Katie wondered what it was about him that she had never been able to really like. She decided she didn’t know—the chemistry just wasn’t there. She forced herself to smile as he came to the table and slid beside her.

“Hi, gorgeous. Have I missed you!” Before she could stop him, he had leaned over to kiss her. It was a quick kiss, and then he was smiling at Julie. “Hi, Julie. You look great. What a treat … not just one beautiful woman, but two.”

Julie smiled a bit awkwardly. “How are things going, Paul?”

“Great. We’ve been training away like madmen. Did you order drinks?”

“Yes, ours,” Katie murmured, suddenly sure that she’d made a tremendous mistake. What was she going to prove by this little outing? She couldn’t come right out and ask him if he was taking payments from a gambling concern. She was probably doing the one thing she didn’t want to do: leading Paul to believe there was something between them.

She lowered her lashes uneasily, then noticed as she did so that his wallet had slipped from his back pocket and was on the seat. Not at all sure of what she was doing, but going on a sudden instinct, she cleared her throat and gave him a quick smile. “Paul, there’s our waiter by the bar. Why don’t you just run up and give him your order, so that we all get our drinks at the same time. You know how these places can be around cocktail hour. You might never get your drink.”

Paul shrugged. “I guess I can do that. Excuse me.”

Katie waited until he had cleared the dining room and was headed through a throng of dancers to the bar. She quickly retrieved the wallet and began to leaf through it under cover of the table.

“What are you doing?” Julie gasped with alarm.

“I don’t know!” Katie whispered back. “I’m looking.”

“For what? A signed and sealed confession?”

“Of course not—and shut up, will you? Keep an eye on him and let me know as soon as he starts heading back.”

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Julie muttered. “Just wonderful. The guy is close to three hundred pounds, and you want to get him mad at me, too. Wonderful—”

Julie muttered away at her; Katie kept delving into the wallet, halfway convinced she was nuts herself. There wasn’t anything to find. Just his driver’s license, credit cards, team affiliation, and a few pictures. She checked the billfold—money. What else, stupid? she asked herself. There was only one pocket left. It held business cards, one for
World Magazine,
others for an accountant, a lawyer, a barber. Impatient and feeling a little like a fool, she started to stuff the cards back into the wallet. She dropped them onto the seat.

“He’s heading back!” Julie exclaimed.

“Okay, okay!” She picked up the cards quickly and tried to put them all in order. It was then that she noticed something peculiar, a name and phone number hastily written on the back of one of the cards. The name was Humpty-Dumpty—the nickname of one of the Saxons guards.

Katie shoved the card into the wallet, let the wallet sit on the seat, and folded her hands above the table, a sweet smile of pure guilt lighting up her features as Paul returned.

“Did you give him your order?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

He slid beside her again. Something in her stomach seemed to recoil as his thigh brushed against hers intimately. What did she do now? She still didn’t know quite what she had discovered—if anything. There wasn’t anything illegal or immoral about carrying around a name and phone number. But it wasn’t
just
a number. It was a number that belonged to a Saxon guard, a man assigned to protect Sam Loper.

All of a sudden Katie couldn’t breathe. The answer was swirling around in her mind, not quite there, but she knew it had to be obvious once she thought it out.

She couldn’t seem to talk, but bless Julie! Her friend was carrying the conversational ball well.

Paul suddenly cleared his throat. “This is kind of personal, Julie, so I hope you won’t mind.” He looked at Katie. “Look, honey, I know you’re furious about all that newspaper stuff on the engagement. I’m sorry. You say you don’t want to marry me. I guess I have to accept that—for now.” He smiled broadly, the type of smile that indicated an intimacy that didn’t exist. “But I plan on talking you into it in the future. You’ll see.”

“Paul,” Katie began, uncomfortably but firmly, “I don’t want to marry you now—”

“But we’re here tonight, right? I’ll make it up to you.” He gave Julie a confident laugh. “She’ll marry me, wait and see.”

Katie decided to give up for the night. Nothing too bad could happen with Julie as a chaperon, she assured herself. And at the moment, it just seemed so much easier to let the evening go on amicably. She had too many things on her mind to try for a showdown.

“Have you taken a look at the menu yet?” he asked them. “That duck sounds great.”

“Duck. Just great,” Katie murmured.

Kent arrived at the
World
offices at five. He had decided it would be just the right time not to intrude on Katie’s work and still not to miss her before she left for the day.

The woman at the receptionist’s desk was young and became totally flustered when she saw him.

“You’re—him,” she said, enormous brown eyes looking into his before he could even ask for Katie.

He grinned. “My name is Kent Hart. I’m looking for Miss Kathleen Hudson. Could you ring her for me, please?”

“Oh, I’d love to! My God, you really
are
tall, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so,” Kent murmured dryly. “Could you call Miss Hudson for me?”

She was scrambling around for a sheet of paper, not taking her eyes off him. “Would you—could I have your autograph, please? You’re just my absolute favorite, Mr. Hart. I don’t even know that much about football, but I watch almost all your games. You’re wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Kent said, quickly scratching out his name.

“You look even better up close!” the young woman exclaimed. “Are you going to do commercials when you retire?”

Kent sighed, trying to get a firm grasp on his patience. “I don’t think so. Look, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Would you mind calling Miss Hudson for me?”

“Oh!” The young woman sat back, looking truly upset. “I’d do anything in the world for you if I could.” She giggled. “World! How funny! But I can’t call Katie—er—Miss Hudson. She left early.”

“She left? Do you know where she went?”

“Somewhere to dinner with Julie—our real receptionist. I’m just filling in.”

That was lucky for the sake of
World Magazine,
Kent thought wryly. He frowned with his frustration. “You have no idea where?”

“No … no, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” He almost left in total frustration, but at the door he paused, returning to give her a warm smile. “Does this—Julie, was it?—yes, does Julie keep a calendar or a notebook or anything?”

“Gee, Mr. Hart, I’m really not sure.”

Kent sat on the corner of the desk and offered her another warm smile. “Mind if I take a look?”

She shook her head, enthralled. Kent reached over and opened the top drawer. He found a calendar, but all the notes scratched out for the day referred to meetings for a man named Raff. He put the calendar back in the drawer, still smiling at the girl.

“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly.

“What?”

“Here, on the blotter. It’s right here! Three for drinks and dinner at five o’clock at—”

“Three?” Kent said sharply, taking a quick look at the scrawled name and number. “Who else was going?”

“Gee, Mr. Hart, I don’t know.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

Kent hurried out to the street and hailed a taxi. With any luck he’d reach the restaurant while Katie was still there.

The duck had been fine; the drinks had been fine. Julie looked exhausted, having spent the entire evening trying to keep the conversation light.

Katie wanted to go home. She started to say so just as Paul grasped her wrist. “One dance, Katie. Julie won’t mind. They’re playing something nice and slow.”

“No, Paul, really—”

“Hey, come on! I’m a poor working guy about to be shipped to New Orleans!”

“Paul—”

It was too late; he was up on his feet and dragging Katie to hers. It was impossible to fight the grasp of a tackle.

“Dammit, Paul!” Katie exploded as he led her through the dining room to the dance floor. “This is the kind of thing that puts an end to things in the first place! I do not like being—”

Her words were cut off as she found her face crushed to his chest.

“Ah, come on, Katie. Women like their men tough. All this lib stuff is a fantasy.”

“It’s no fantasy!” Katie exclaimed. “I do not want to dance, and I don’t like rude men!”

It was incredible really … She wasn’t dancing, but she was being led around the floor. She couldn’t break his hold and couldn’t even see because her face was pressed so hard to his jacket.

How had she ever gotten involved with him? she wondered bleakly. He had been so nice at first.

She was so busy fighting that she didn’t realize another tall man had entered the restaurant just as she was heading for the dance floor.

But Kent saw her—and the table from which she had departed. He walked over to it and to the lovely, sophisticated blond sitting there. He slid into the vacated booth and watched her as she turned to watch him—apparently with no surprise.

“You’re Kent Hart,” she murmured, assessing him curiously.

“And you’re Julie.”

“Yes.” She glanced nervously at the dance floor and moistened her lips. Then she gazed back at him. “Are we going to have trouble here tonight?”

He shook his head. “I guess not, not if she wants to be with him.”

The sound of his voice was very, very bitter. “Oh, no!” Julie cried in dismay, remembering Katie’s story. Oh, this really was wonderful! Kent Hart must be assuming that Katie
had
seduced him, only to betray him.

Kent raised a dark brow to her; Julie decided that she would never want to be on his bad side.

“I—uh—it’s not what you think,” she began, but then she realized suddenly that she had lost his attention. His hand, a big hand with long fingers, was curled over the table’s edge so tightly, she thought the wood would split. And then Julie saw why.

Out on the dance floor it was evident that Katie was fighting a back hold that was more like a derriere hold.

“Excuse me,” Kent said briefly.

“Oh, hell!” Julie moaned. She watched as Kent strode quickly toward the crowd of whirling dancers and tapped Paul on the shoulder. Julie realized vaguely that she was standing and rushing out to the dance floor herself—although heaven knew why.

“Paul,” Katie was gasping, “I swear I’ll scream loud enough to stop the band if you don’t—”

“What the hell?” Paul interrupted, and Katie saw that he was turning around because someone was tapping his shoulder. “Hart!” he exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh!” Katie gasped, stunned—then horrified. Kent was standing there, very civil and handsome in a three-piece suit, but wearing a thunderous expression that was gaunt and tense and anything but civil. He looked as if he wanted to kill Paul.

“I don’t think the lady wants to dance with you, Crane,” he began stonily, but then his eyes caught hers and they were like burning coals. Though it might appear that he was defending her, Katie had the sickening sensation that it was only so that he might kill her himself.

“What?” Paul demanded incredulously. Then he was mad. “Damn you, Hart, get out of my life! What I do with my woman is my concern.”

“Only if she’s your woman—which I doubt,” Kent replied tensely.

Paul glowered at him for a minute. “Want to take this outside, Hart?” His voice was low and threatening.

“I sure as hell do.”

Katie and Julie were left with a milling crowd as the two men walked off the dance floor to the street door.

Katie looked at Julie desperately. She started to talk and couldn’t. She turned and followed after the men in a rush. Julie followed on her heels.

“Oh, this is stupid!” Katie cried to Julie on the restaurant steps. Kent and Paul were circling one another like a pair of boxers in the ring. Katie caught her breath in a crazy rush of fear. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Julie, he’s going to get hurt! Paul has about fifty pounds on him, and he’s almost ten years younger.”

Julie was silent for a minute, then she murmured rather lightly, “Oh, I don’t know. The Cougar is tough. Tall and wiry and lean. I think I’ll put my money on him.”