Holding the Dream (16 page)

He'd know, of course. She caught herself twisting her fingers together, and made herself stop. “Yes, but I have things to do, and so do you. So, I'll just . . .”

She was saved by a scrabbling sound and the surprising sight of two running balls of yellow fur. “Oh, God.” Automatically, she went down on her knees and caught the
deliriously happy puppies in her arms. “Oh, you're so cute. Aren't you sweet? Aren't you wonderful?”

In unanimous agreement, they bathed her face with eager tongues, yipped and wiggled, crawling over each other to get closer.

“That's Nip and Tuck,” Byron informed her as he got down on the floor with them.

“Which is which?”

He sent one puppy into slant-eyed ecstasy by scratching a furry belly. “I don't know. I figured we'd work it out with time. I've only had them a couple of days.”

Kate picked one up to nuzzle and forgot she'd been anxious to get in and out. “What are they?”

“A little of this and a little of that. Some golden retriever, some Lab.”

Before the second puppy could desert her, she kissed his nose. “Followed you home, right?”

“I adopted them from the animal shelter. They're eight weeks old.” Byron found the remnants of a well-chewed rawhide bone on the floor and skidded it over the polished wood for the pups to chase.

“Mind if I ask what you're going to do with two puppies when you're at work?”

“Take them with me—for a while. I figure I can fence in part of the backyard, and they'll have each other for company when I'm not here.” They came barreling back, jumped him. “I was only going to get one, but then . . . well, they're brothers and it seemed only fair.” He glanced over, found her smiling at him. “What?”

“You wouldn't know it to look at you.”

“Wouldn't know what?”

“You're a sucker.”

He shrugged, tossed the bone again. “I'd think a practical woman like you would see the value of taking both. A backup dog is a sensible plan.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Jesus, Kate, have you ever been in one of those shelters?
They break your heart.” He tolerated wet, sloppy kisses from the rebounding puppies. “They're doing a great job—don't get me wrong—but all those cats and dogs, just waiting for somebody to come along and take them. Or . . .”

“Yeah. Or.” She reached over, rubbing her hand over the dog in his lap. “You saved them.” Her gaze came back to his. “You're good at that.”

He reached out, curled a hand around her calf and slid her over until their knees bumped. “I tend to get attached to things I save. You look good.” Anticipating her, he kept his hand on her leg and kept her from scooting back. “Rested.”

“I didn't do much more than rest all week. And eat.” She smiled a little. “I gained three pounds.”

“Well, strike up the band.”

“It may not seem like much to you, ace, but I've spent most of my life trying to develop something resembling a figure. I tried everything you read about in the back of magazines and Sunday supplements.”

He had to grin. “Get out of here.”

“No, really. There I was, faced with Margo—who I think was born built—and Laura's feminine little body. I always looked like their undernourished younger brother.”

“You don't look like anyone's younger brother, Kate. Believe me.”

Feeling foolishly flattered, she shrugged. “Anyway—”

“Despite the amazing weight gain and the lack of symptoms,” he interrupted, “you are going to see your regular doctor.”

“I don't have much choice. My family's ganged up on me.”

“That's what family's for. You gave us a scare.”

“I know. I've been lectured by experts on my careless, selfish ways.”

He smiled and patted her legs. “Sting?”

“Big-time. I'm thinking about just having ‘I'm sorry' tattooed on my forehead so I don't have to keep repeating myself. And speaking of apologies.” She blew out a breath,
fluttered her bangs. “I was going to try to get out of here without bringing this up, but I'm trying to reform.”

Her brows knit, as they did whenever she had to face a thorny problem or unsettling task. This qualified for both. “The other night, before I had my little. . .attack, we were . . .”

“On our way to the floor, as I remember.” He reached over the puppy that had fallen asleep in his lap, brushed at the hair above her ear. “Looks like we got there after all.”

“What I want to say is that things got out of hand. My fault as much as yours,” she added.

“Fault's assigned when there's a mistake.”

“That's my point.” She should have known it wouldn't be simple. Nip or Tuck was draped across her thigh, snoring. She busied herself with stroking his head. “We don't—
I
don't jump into bed with men I hardly know.”

“It was going to be the floor,” he reminded her. He still had a hard time going into his own kitchen without imagining what might have been. “And I never assumed you did. Otherwise, it wouldn't be two years since you've had sex.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Where did you get an idea like that?”

“You mentioned it,” he said easily, “when I was trying to get your clothes off.”

She closed her mouth, let air out her nose. “Oh. Well, that only strengthens my point.” Uneasy, she watched him gently lift the puppy from his lap and set it aside, where it curled deeper into sleep. “What happened was just a moment.” He repeated the procedure with the second puppy. Kate's heart began to thud. “A hormone burst.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn't even touch her, just leaned forward until his mouth slid expertly over hers.

Kate could almost feel her mind tilt and her brains flow out. Well, she needed a distraction, didn't she? An outlet for all this tension. It seemed like the most sensible thing in the world to unfold her legs, wrap them around his waist and dive in.

“This only proves it,” she murmured. She threaded her
hands through his hair and gripped. “Proves I'm right.”

“Shut up, Kate.”

“Okay.”

It was wonderfully, brutally hot. She hadn't known until that instant how cold she had been. Until his unshaven cheeks rubbed roughly over her skin, she hadn't known how soft she could be. Or how gratifying it could be to be the soft one.

She let out a long, grateful moan when his hands streaked under her T-shirt to stroke her back, slid around to cup and squeeze her tingling breasts. The flick of his thumbs over her nipples shot a bolt of heat through her center that vibrated achingly in her crotch. Arching back, she pulled his head down until his mouth replaced his hands.

He suckled through cotton, tormenting himself with fantasies of what her flesh would feel like, taste like, sliding under his tongue. She was so . . . slight. That neat, almost boyish torso should never have appealed to him. There was no womanly flare of hip, and her breasts were small.

And firm, and warm.

The way she moved against him, that edgy eagerness of a woman already teetering on the edge, was viciously arousing. He wanted, needed, to shove her back, rip aside that denim and drive himself inside her until they were both screaming.

Instead he dragged his mouth back to hers, slid a hand between their bodies and sent her free-falling over the edge. He shuddered himself when she convulsed, ordered himself to breathe when her head dropped limply on his shoulder.

Well, he thought, that should hold one of us.

It took her a moment to realize that he'd stopped, was just holding her. “What?” she managed. “Why?”

The dazed questions nearly made him smile. “I decided I didn't want it to be a hormone burst. For either of us.” He eased her back, studied her flushed face, the heavy, glazed eyes. “Better now?”

“I don't think—” Couldn't think. “I don't know—Don't you want to—?”

He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that tasted of dark
and swirling frustration. “Does that answer your question?” Taking her by the shoulders, he gave her a quick, satisfying shake.

“You're trying to confuse me.” Part of her brain was starting to regenerate, and with it, temper. “This is some kinky version of
Gaslight
.”

This time he did smile. “God, you're a pain in the ass. Listen to me, Katherine, I want you. I haven't the smallest clue why, but I just want the hell out of you. If I'd followed my first instinct, you'd be flat on your back, naked, and I'd be feeling a lot better than I do right now. But I'll be goddamned if you're going to pick yourself up afterward and claim I just helped you end your sexual drought.”

Her eyes snapped back into focus. “That's a hideous thing to say.”

“Yeah, it is. And that's just how you'd have rationalized it. I'm not giving you the chance. What I am doing is giving you the chance to get used to the idea of having me as a lover.”

“Of all the—”

“Just keep quiet for once,” he said mildly. “We're going to take this slow, go out together in public, have a few reasonable conversations, take some time to figure each other out.”

“In other words, it's going to be all your way.”

He angled his head, nodded. “Yeah, that sums it up.” When she tried to wriggle free, he simply sighed and held her in place. “Honey, I'm as stubborn as you are, and a hell of a lot stronger. That puts me one up.”

“You're not going to keep me here when I don't want to be here.”

He gave her a friendly kiss on the nose. “You may be a scrapper, but you've got toothpick arms. We can work on that,” he added, ignoring the strangled sounds she made. “In fact, there's no time like the present.”

She thought she'd had all the shocks she could handle for one morning, but she got a fresh one when he hauled her up
and slung her over his shoulder. “Are you insane? Put me down, you muscle-bound son of a bitch. I'll have you hauled in for assault.”

“It's muscles we're going to deal with,” he said mildly, as he carted her into an adjoining room. “Believe me, there's nothing like a good workout to relieve tension. Considering your ulcer and your desire to gain weight, this is something you should add to your daily routine.” He set her down, caught the fist she swung at him in his hand, gave it an affectionate squeeze. “You want to be able to put some power behind that punch. We'll work on your biceps.”

“This isn't happening,” she said and closed her eyes. “I'm not even here.”

“We need to work on diet and nutrition, too, but we'll get to that.” They were going to get to a lot of things, he thought, as soon as she didn't look as if he could knock her flat with one exhale. “Right now, I think you should start off with three-pounders.” He took two metal dumbbells from a rack. “You'll work up to five. You're going to want to go buy yourself some girl weights.”

She opened her eyes again. “Did you say girl weights?”

“No offense. They make these nice plastic-coated sets of free weights in colors.” He put a weight into each of her hands, curled her fingers around them. The only thing that stopped her from dropping them on his feet was curiosity.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You mean besides because I find myself oddly attracted to you?” He smiled into her eyes as he positioned her elbows at her waist. “I think I'm starting to like you. Now pretend you're lifting and lowering these through mud. Concentrate on your biceps and keep your elbows in place.”

“I don't want to lift weights.” Hadn't this man just minutes ago taken her to rough and blistering orgasm? “I want to hit you.”

“Just think about how much harder you'll be able to hit me once you've got some muscle.” He guided her arms down, then up. “Just like that, but resist both ways.”

“These are too light. It's silly.”

“They won't feel so light after a few sets. You're going to work up a nice sweat before I'm finished with you.”

She sent him a sweet smile. “Yeah, that's what I thought before.” Pleased with herself, she lowered the weights, lifted them. Then her brain flashed. “Goddamn you, Byron, are you saving me again?”

He stepped behind her, positioned her shoulders. “Just pump iron, kid. We'll work out the details later.”

It was always good to have Aunt Susan and Uncle Tommy home. Kate had worried that something would show in her face—or worse, that there would be something in theirs. The knowledge of crimes past, the doubt of her own innocence. But there had been only concern, and acceptance.

Their visit also meant extending her stay at Templeton House. It was difficult seeing them every day with the questions she tried to ignore drumming in the back of her mind. Questions she couldn't bring herself to ask.

She used the routine to carve out the path she intended to follow. Days at the shop—work to challenge the brain and keep it busy. Evenings with her family to soothe the heart. The occasional date with Byron to keep her on her toes.

He was a new element. Seeing him, wondering about him helped keep her from brooding about the turn her life had taken. She'd decided to think of him as a kind of experiment. Kate preferred that term to “relationship.” And it wasn't an
altogether unpleasant experiment. A few dinners, a movie now and again, perhaps a walk on the cliffs.

Then there were those long, stirring kisses he apparently loved to indulge in. Kisses that had her heart flopping in her chest like a landed trout, sent her senses cartwheeling into each other. Then ended, leaving her aching and baffled. And itchy.

The entire relationship—no,
experiment
, she corrected—left him far too much in control. Now that she was feeling a little steadier—all right, healthier—she was going to work on balancing the power.

“That's good to see.” Susan Templeton stood at the doorway, her arm tucked through her husband's. “Our Kate never did enough daydreaming, did she, Tommy?”

“Not our sensible girl.” He closed the door to the office behind them. He and his wife had worked out the logistics of this maneuver, and following their plan, they flanked the small desk where Kate had been pretending to work.

“I was trying to calculate our advertising budget for the next quarter.” She flipped the screen saver onto her monitor. “If you're smart, you two will hide in here before Margo can put you to work.”

“I promised her a couple of hours.” Thomas winked. “She thinks she charmed me into it, but I get a kick out of working that old cash register.”

“Maybe you'll give me some tips on salesmanship. I can't quite get the knack of it.”

“Love what you sell, Katie girl, even if you hate it.” He cast an experienced eye around the office, noted the tidy shelves, the organized work space. “Somebody's been streamlining in here.”

“Nobody puts things, and people, in their place better than Kate.” Susan laid a hand over Kate's, kept her soft blue eyes level. “Why haven't you put Bittle in his?”

Kate shook her head. Because she'd been waiting for days for one of them to bring it up, she didn't panic. She had her rationale ready. “It's not important.” But Susan's eyes stayed on hers, calm, patient, waiting. “It was too important,” she
corrected. “I'm not going to let it matter to me.”

“Now you listen here, girl—”

“Tommy,” Susan murmured.

“No.” He cut his wife off with a snap of sizzling temper. In contrast to Susan, his slate-gray eyes were sizzling. “I know you wanted to soft-pedal this business, Susie, but damned if I will.”

He loomed over the desk, a tall man, powerfully built, well used to taking control, be it in business or family. “I expected better of you, Kate. Letting yourself get run roughshod over, giving up without a fight. Turning your back on something you worked for your whole life. Worse, getting yourself sick over it instead of standing up to it. I'm ashamed of you.”

Those were words he'd never said to her before. Words she'd worked her entire life to keep him from saying. Now they struck her like a backhanded slap. “I—I never took any money.”

“Of course you didn't take any money.”

“I did the best I could. I know I let you down. I'm sorry.”

“We're not talking about me,” he shot back. “We're talking about you. You've let yourself down.”

“No, I—” Ashamed of her. He was ashamed of her. And angry. “I put everything I had into my job. I tried to—I thought I was on the fast track to partner, and then you'd—”

“So the first time you take a knock, you crumble?” He leaned forward, poking his finger at her. “Is that your answer?”

“No.” Unable to face him, she stared at her hands. “No. They had evidence. I don't know how, because I swear to you I never took any money.”

“Give us some credit, Katherine,” Susan said quietly.

“But they had the forms, my signature.” The breath was backing up in her lungs. “If I'd pushed, they might have filed charges. It might have gone to court. I'd have to . . . You'd have to . . . I know people are whispering about it, and that's embarrassing for you. But if we just leave it alone, it'll pass. It'll just pass.”

This time Susan held up a hand before her husband could interrupt. She, too, was accustomed to control. “You're concerned that we're embarrassed.”

“It all reflects. It's all of a piece, isn't it?” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “I know that what I do reflects on you. If I can just wait it out, build something here with the shop. I know I owe you.”

“What bullshit is this?” Thomas exploded.

“Hush, Tommy.” Susan sat back, folded her hands. “I'd like Kate to finish. What do you owe us, Kate?”

“Everything.” She looked up then, eyes swimming. “Everything. Everything. I hate disappointing you, knowing I've disappointed you. I had no way to stop it, to prepare for it. If I could fix it, if I could go back and fix—”

She broke off, shuddering as she realized she was mixing past and present. “I know how much you've given me, and I wanted to pay you back. Once I'd made partner . . .”

“It would have been a proper return on our investment,” Susan concluded. She got slowly to her feet because every muscle in her body was tingling. “That is insulting, arrogant, and cruel.”

“Aunt Susie—”

“Be quiet. Do you actually believe we expect payment for loving you? How dare you think such a thing?”

“But I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” All but shaking with fury, she clutched her husband's shoulder. “You think we took you into our home, into our lives, because we felt pity for the poor orphaned child? Do you think it was charity—worse, the kind of charity that comes with strings and expectations? Oh, yes,” she continued, fired up now. “The Templetons are known for their charitable works. I assume we fed you, clothed you, educated you because we wanted the community to witness our largesse. And we loved you, comforted you, admired you, disciplined you because we expected you to grow into a successful woman who would then pay us back for our time and effort with the importance of her position.”

Rather than interrupt what he couldn't have said better himself, Thomas handed Kate a handkerchief so she could wipe her streaming eyes.

Susan leaned over the desk. Her voice was low, had remained low even in anger. “Yes, we pitied the little girl who had lost her parents so tragically, so brutally, so unfairly. Our hearts ached for the child who looked so lost and so brave. But I'll tell you something, Katherine Louise Powell, the minute you stepped through the door of Templeton House you became ours. Ours. You were my child then, and you still are. And the only things any of my children owe me or their father is love and respect. Don't you ever,
ever
throw my love in my face again.”

She turned on her heel, sailed out of the room, and let the door click quietly behind her.

Thomas huffed out a long breath. His wife's tirades were few and far between, but they were brilliant. “Put your foot in it, didn't you, Katie girl?”

“Oh, Uncle Tommy.” She could see the world she'd tried to piece back together shattered in her hands. “I don't know what to do.”

“Start by coming over here.” When she'd crawled into his lap and buried her face in his chest, he rocked her. “Never knew such a bright child could be so stupid.”

“I'm screwing everything up. I don't know what to do. I just don't know how to fix it. What's wrong with me?”

“Plenty, I'd say, but nothing that can't be mended.”

“She was so angry with me.”

“Well, that can be mended too. You know one of your problems, Kate? You've focused on figures so long you think everything has to add up and be equal. It's just not true with people and feelings.”

“I never wanted to bring either of you into this. To hurt you, remind you—” She broke off, shook her head fiercely. “I always wanted to be the best for you. The best in school, in sports. Everything.”

“And we admired your competitive spirit, but not when it eats a hole in your gut.”

Exhausted from tears, she laid her head against his shoulder. It was cowardice, she thought, that had eaten that hole in her gut. Now she had to face it all, what had been, what was, and what would come.

“I'm going to fix things, Uncle Tommy.”

“Take my advice and give Susie a little time to cool off. She gets hard of hearing when her temper's on boil.”

“Okay.” Kate drew a deep breath and sat up. “Then I guess I'll start with Bittle.”

His face broke into a huge grin. “Now that's my Kate.”
 

In the parking lot of Bittle and Associates, Kate flipped down her rearview mirror to take one last critical look at her face. Margo had performed a little miracle. She'd dragged Kate upstairs and with cold compresses, eyedrops, lotions, and makeup had erased all traces of damage. Kate decided she no longer looked as though she had spent twenty minutes bawling like a scolded child. She looked efficient, composed, and determined.

That was perfect.

She told herself it didn't bother her that conversations stopped when she sailed into the first-floor lobby. She didn't mind the stares and murmurs, the strained smiles and curiosity-laced greetings. They were, in fact, an eye-opener.

The few people who greeted her warmly, who detoured to stop her on her march to the second floor and offer support, showed her that she'd made more friends at Bittle than she'd realized.

It took only one twist of the corridor to bring Kate face to face with the dragon. Newman raised a brow, gave Kate one brief, chilly stare. “Ms. Powell. May I help you?”

“I'm on my way to see Marty.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Kate angled her chin. The fingers gripping the handle of her briefcase tightened. “I'll take that up with Marty and his
secretary. Why don't you go tell Mr. Bittle Senior that the disgraced associate has invaded the hallowed halls?”

Like a Swiss guard protecting royalty, Newman shifted her stance. “I see no reason for you to—”

“Kate.” Roger poked his head out of his office, rolled his eyes behind Newman's back, and beamed a smile. “Good to see you. I was hoping you'd make it by. Oh, Ms. Newman, I've got that report Mr. Bittle Senior needed.” Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat, Roger produced a sheaf of papers. “He was anxious to see it.”

“Very well.” She shot Kate one last warning glance, then hurried down the hallway.

“Thanks,” Kate murmured. “I think we might have come to blows.”

“My money was on you.” He put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “This situation really sucks. I'd have called you, but I didn't know what to say.” He dropped his hand, stuck it in his pocket. “How to act.”

“It doesn't matter. I didn't have anything to say myself.” Until now. Now, she had plenty to say.

“Listen.” He nudged her toward his office door but didn't, Kate noted wryly, invite her inside. “I don't know how much pressure your lawyer's putting on.”

“My lawyer?”

“Templeton. The partners went into a powwow after he came in and stirred them up. Maybe that's a good thing, I don't know. You've got to handle it the way you think best. I can tell you that it looks like the partners are divided over whether or not to pursue and prosecute.”

His brow creased and his voice, like a conspirator's, was low and dramatic. “Amanda's leading the charge, and Bittle Junior's behind her. My take is that Calvin and Senior are on the fence, with Marty solidly against.”

“It's always good to know who's in your corner and who's going for your throat,” Kate murmured.

“All this craziness over a lousy seventy-five K,” Roger said in disgust. “It's not like you killed anyone.”

Kate stepped back, studied his face. “Stealing is stealing, seventy-five cents or seventy-five K. And I didn't take any money.”

“I didn't say you did. I didn't mean it that way.” But there was doubt in his voice even as he took her hand to squeeze it. “I meant everybody overreacted. I get the impression that if you came up with the money, it would all go away.”

Slowly, firmly, she drew her hand free. “Would it?”

“I know it's a lousy deal either way, but hell, Kate, the Templetons sneeze that much money away every day. It would offset the chance of you being charged, ruining your whole damn life. Sometimes you've got to choose between the rock and the hard place.”

“And sometimes you've got to stick. Thanks for the advice.”

“Kate.” He took a step after her, but she didn't stop or look back. With a shrug, he went back into his office.

Word was already out. Marty came to his door personally to meet her. He offered his hand, shook hers in a friendly, professional manner. “Kate, I'm glad you came by. Come inside.”

“I should have come before,” she began as she followed him past his secretary, who was doing her best to look busy and disinterested.

“I thought you would. Want anything? Coffee?”

“No.” It was the same old Marty, she thought as she took her seat. From the wrinkled shirtsleeves to the affable smile. “I'm cutting back. I want to say first that I appreciate you seeing me like this.”