Just Between Friends (O'Rourke Family 4) (9 page)

Sighing, she leaned back on her elbows and thought
about Dylan. He was still in such a lousy mood, she was considering using his credit cards, just to make him happy.

Jeez, weren’t men supposed to complain about their wives spending too much money?

“Kate?” Dylan called from the living room.

Her eyes widened. Dylan didn’t usually come home from work until almost six…when he did come home. Her mind instantly shied away from thinking about the night he’d spent somewhere else.

“What are you doing home so early?”

“I thought we’d go out to dinner.” The door opened and a hand appeared, holding a bunch of pink tulips. “Happy birthday, Katydid.”

A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She loved tulips, they were such happy flowers. “Come in, Dylan.”

He stuck his head inside. “I have reservations on the waterfront at your favorite restaurant.”

“Aren’t you tired? We could wait till Saturday.”

“I’m going to work on the remodeling this weekend.”

“Oh.” If it had been any other excuse Kate would have been happier, but the remodeling was a sore point for her. “Okay, but I don’t mind fixing something.”

“Come on, let’s go out. You shouldn’t have to cook on your birthday, and it’ll be nice going somewhere we don’t have to put on a big newlywed act.”

More of Kate’s pleasure faded. She might not be the sexiest woman in Seattle, but it shouldn’t be such a burden for him to be affectionate. “That’ll be…nice.”

“Do you need the shower, or should I go ahead?” he asked.

“You go.”

Dylan had the damnedest feeling he’d done something else wrong, but he didn’t know what it might be. Still, he cleaned up in record time and hurried out to find Kate already dressed. She looked too perfect for a guy like him, and it boggled his mind that she was actually his wife. On paper, at least. He missed the way it used to be when they were just friends—when she was Katydid, and he was the boy she could talk into anything.

God, she didn’t even look like Kate; she was Katrina Douglas, elegant and sophisticated in a designer gown, and his irritation welled up again. Irritation that she didn’t seem to care where he’d spent Monday night. It was childish and illogical and he tried to ignore it.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Sure.”

The evening went well until he pulled a jewelry box from his pocket and handed it to Kate. “Happy birthday.”

Her face went still at the sight of the emerald and diamond drop earrings inside. “They’re lovely.”

“They go with your green dress from last Friday.”

“I thought you didn’t like that dress.”

He shifted uncomfortably, because it was the woman inside the gown that had bothered him so much. “It’s a little low cut, that’s all.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Her fingers snapped the velvet box shut, and she turned it around a couple of times, unreadable thoughts racing across her face. “What’s going on, Dylan? Five thousand dollar earrings for a friend’s birthday? It’s because I won’t use your dumb checking account and credit card, isn’t it?”

“They’re not dumb.”

Kate got up, shoved the earrings at Dylan and walked out of the restaurant and down to the waterfront. The cool breeze off Puget Sound didn’t soothe the turmoil in her heart or the pain that Dylan had caused by using her birthday gift as a way of paying off his idea of a debt.

Things were so much more complicated than she’d thought they’d be, with Dylan’s pride and everything else complicating her simple plan to make him fall in love with her.

An evening ferry chugged in the distance, seagulls reeling and screaming above it. The distinctive scent of the ocean mixed with evergreens and city life—so familiar in Seattle—filled her senses. She closed her eyes and tried to find peace.

“Please get in, Kate.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Dylan had brought his truck around from the parking lot, and she sighed. Getting into a snit wasn’t the way to his heart, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to get there, either.

They were both silent as he negotiated the traffic back to the Douglas estate. Dylan was more remote than ever, and she didn’t know whether to swallow her own pride or to stand her ground and make him see reason about the money. It wasn’t that she needed to pay her way, but she’d gotten him to marry her under false pretenses and her conscience bothered her, especially when he kept trying to pay for everything.

They pulled into the converted garage and Kate waited for Dylan to get the door for her like always, but he just sat with his hands on the wheel.

“Dylan?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so bad tempered the past couple days.”

The past few days?

Kate kept her mouth shut…much as she wanted to say something about the past couple of weeks. She knew marriage was hard, but usually there were benefits that went along with the bad, like cuddling at night and knowing that your husband loved you.

“Uh, that’s okay,” she said finally.

“No. It’s just…” He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say, then let out a breath and looked at her. “I want to know why you didn’t ask a single question about me being gone on Monday. Don’t you want to know where I was?”

Lord.

It was all she could do to keep from screaming at him. Of course she wanted to know. She was dying inside every time she thought about who he might have been with, and why, and how much
she
meant to him. Or if there was a
she
in the first place.

But she couldn’t say anything like that because Dylan would immediately realize how she felt.

She undid her seatbelt and slid out of the truck.

“Where are you going, Kate?”

“Obviously nowhere.”

She sensed Dylan’s irritation in the way he slammed the truck door and stomped after her, but it bought her time to find an answer to an impossible question.

“K
ate?”

Kate unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, knowing Dylan was close on her heels. She pushed inside and dropped her purse on the couch.

As birthdays went, this one really stunk. But she had to pretend Dylan’s question wasn’t a big deal…even though it was putting a stake through her heart.

The door slammed shut.

“Why, Kate? Why didn’t you ask?”

Men. They wanted it both ways. If you were jealous, then you were being unreasonable and catlike; if you
weren’t
jealous, you were unreasonable and didn’t care enough. Both were equally upsetting to a man and his ego.

“It isn’t as if you’re really my husband,” she said, attempting to stay calm. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t advertise an affair because of the legal situation, but we
each have our own lives.” Yet even as Kate said the word
affair
, her heart was breaking.

“What?”

“I’m just asking you to be discreet.”

Dylan didn’t know whether he was flabbergasted or just plain angry. No, he was
furious.
Angry wasn’t strong enough to describe the way he felt. No matter how it had come about, Kate was his wife.

His
wife.

And there weren’t going to be any affairs, for either of them.

“Sorry, but I don’t live in the world of bored wealthy marriages and casual affairs,” he snarled. “As long as we’re married I won’t be sleeping with anyone else and neither will you. We’ll just have to control any urges we might have until after the divorce.”

“Urges?” Kate repeated thoughtfully.

Before he was tempted to offer to satisfy any of Kate’s urges, Dylan stomped back down to the carriage house garage. But even there he couldn’t stand still, and he went outside and plunged onto the walking trail that meandered around the hill. The Douglases had maintained a slice of Cascade mountain wilderness in the heart of the city—not because they were dedicated to the environment, but from a snobby determination to set themselves apart from everyday people.

“Damn. Damn.
Damn.
”

His curses echoed through the growing darkness. After two circuits around the perimeter of the estate he wasn’t calmer. Almost against his will he veered into the back gardens of the mansion and stared up at the hulking
building. Maybe if the old place had ever been filled with love and laughter, it might not seem so grim and lifeless. It might even have been an interesting example of period architecture, but all he saw were the seeds of unhappiness.

Kate’s unhappiness.

Dragging air into his suddenly tight lungs, Dylan leaned against the trunk of a spreading maple tree.

There were so many times Kate had been hurt by her parents’ neglect or her grandmother’s criticism. She was an essentially happy person, but the shadows in her soul were reflected in the work she did, helping others. In some deep, unspoken place she understood other people’s pain and wanted to heal it.

The sound of someone moving in the garden came from nearby, and he wasn’t surprised to see Kate emerge from the shadows.

He might understand her better than ever before, but he was still angry. With good reason, he might add. The things she’d suggested appalled him. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Hi? That was all? Apparently she didn’t feel any more communicative than she’d been earlier in the week.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “It isn’t safe to be out alone.”

“Yeah, who knows who I might run into on a private estate, with sophisticated electronic security protecting it.”

“You could trip and fall in the dark.”

“So could you.”

He could counter that by saying he was a man and a
construction worker accustomed to keeping his balance in tricky spots, but he knew better.

“Did you really think I was having an affair?” The question exploded out of him, and he winced.

Starting the argument over again wouldn’t change anything, and he’d already ruined Kate’s birthday—though he didn’t see how a pair of emerald earrings could be such a big mistake.

“I didn’t…I don’t know.”

Kate rubbed her arms, and he saw she didn’t have a sweater. The evening had grown cold, a weather front moving over the city like a gray ghost. It didn’t matter to him with his tough hide, but she got cold on a seventy-degree day.

“You should have brought a wrap if you were taking a walk.”

“I’m not a child,” she said automatically.

“I didn’t say you were a child, I just said you need to wear something warm.”

“Like I wasn’t capable of being responsible for myself or accepting the consequences. Look, I just thought we should talk. I don’t like fighting with you, Dylan.”

He didn’t like it either, and he was horrified by his lack of control…and by his primitive possessiveness.

But how could she believe he was the kind of man to sleep around? She’d known him most of her life. Depended on him. He’d agreed to help her, why would he mess everything up with an affair?

“I wouldn’t have married you if I was involved with someone,” he said at last. “I said I’d help.”

“You weren’t thrilled about it.”

She had him there.

“Nobody has the right to control someone else’s life,” Dylan said. “That’s what your grandmother tried to do, and it was wrong. I just didn’t realize…”

“What?” Kate took a step closer. The faint fragrance of her perfume drifted around him and his blood surged with heat. “You didn’t realize what, Dylan?”

No way was he going to confess the unruly responses of his body. And how could he explain the rest of it? He knew Kate was only his wife on paper, but that wasn’t the way it felt. His father had raised him with a strict code of behavior. A wife was a wife, and a man supported his wife, took care of his family, and did right no matter how tough it might be.

“Never mind, Katydid. I’m sorry I spoiled your birthday dinner. I know I’ve been difficult lately, but the money stuff makes me uncomfortable.”

In the faint light escaping from the clouded sky above, he could see her chewing on her lip. “If it’s really that important, I’ll use the checking account for the household expenses,” Kate said. “But not for my clothes, and I won’t let you buy me a car.”

“Your car is a hunk of junk.”

“So I’ll buy one for myself.”

No.

For a moment Dylan worried he’d shouted it aloud, then realized it was only in his head. Kate was turning out to be more stubborn than he’d ever realized, which bothered him, because it was something else he’d missed seeing about her.

“Please, Kate, if you want a Beetle, let me buy you a new one. The new model is just as spiffy as the original. They’re great. I might even like having one myself.”

A giggle rose in Kate’s throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Dylan wasn’t the spiffy type, he was a rugged truck sort of man. With his looks he could even pose for one of those truck commercials where a gorgeous guy rolls up in a cloud of dust, gets out and leans casually against the fender. He wouldn’t even have to say a word. Women would fall all over themselves buying trucks, and men would buy them, too, because he was their sort of man.

“So if you insist, I’ll keep the Beetle after our divorce,” Dylan said, sounding as if it was perfectly reasonable.

This time Kate couldn’t keep from chuckling.

“What?” he demanded.

“
You
behind the wheel of a compact car?” Her laughter rang out and she saw a glint of white in the shadows as Dylan grinned.

“Are you saying I’m oversized?”

“I think you’re the perfect size…to drive a truck.”

“Ever the diplomat. Come here, Katydid.” The shadows shifted, and she sensed his arms were outstretched.

With a mixture of sorrow and relief Kate walked into the hug. It was just like when they were kids, and he was trying to make her feel better because of something that had happened. Comfort and sympathy, not love.

But he was warm and big and hard, and she leaned against him, accepting the comfort.

“Sorry about the earrings,” he murmured, his breath stirring the hair on her temples. “Maybe I
was
trying to pay you back. Sometimes my pride is worse than a tiger on my back. I just can’t stand to have anyone think we’re together because I’m after your money.”

“We’re not together.”

“Nobody knows that.”

She’d hoped he’d contradict her, but it was a vain hope.

Dylan slowly eased them both to the ground and settled her against his chest. He crossed her arms over her stomach and put his arms over hers, surrounding her with warmth. City noises were filtered out by the woods and night air, with only the looming Douglas mansion reminding her that the rest of humanity wasn’t far away.

The house was dark and silent, not much different than when her grandmother had lived there. Kate had a vision for the house, restored and filled with light, a center for community activities and a showcase of Seattle history. The historical society could run it as a nonprofit foundation, and she’d serve on the advisory board.

“Dylan,” she said slowly. “The people who really matter don’t think anything about us being married. They see a highly successful businessman who doesn’t need anyone’s money. You’re honest and fair and trustworthy. There might be a few people with dirty minds and unhappy lives who want to believe the worst of everyone else, but their opinions shouldn’t count. Not ever.”

He stayed silent for a long while, then sighed. “You’re right. And it’s really about me. I grew up a certain way, with certain beliefs, and taking care of a wife is one of them. Instead I’m living on a palatial property rent free, you’re spending your own money on expenses, and it’s like I’m being…kept.”

“That’s ridiculous. You aren’t being kept. You won’t take any money for the remodeling and all the other work you’ve done, and that costs loads more than a few steaks.”

“Yeah, but the remodeling was my idea.”

True.

But she had her own demons to deal with, including a conscience that twinged more each day. At least Dylan was talking to her again and not being so stone-faced and impossible. Her spirits lifted. Arguments sometimes cleared the air. Maybe things would be different now.

In the meantime she wanted to enjoy being held by the man she loved, though his embrace was that of a friend, not a lover. Besides, she wasn’t the tiniest bit cold with the length of Dylan’s body down her back. She just wished she had more experience telling if a man was aroused—then all at once she realized she
could
tell and her spirits went higher than a helium balloon on a hot day.

“Tell me something, Dylan,” she murmured. “Did you ever think…uh…about dating me, back when we were teenagers?”

“Did I what?”

The question had obviously surprised him, and his tension became palpable.

Darn.

“You know, when we were just kids.” Kate deliberately made her voice casual, as if it couldn’t possibly matter now and she was only asking out of idle curiosity.

“You’re
still
a kid.”

She rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t possibly see it. “You’re only two years older than me.”

“Two and a
half
years.” He said, making it sound like centuries separated their birth dates.

Brother. She was in love with the most obstinate man alive. “Kane is eleven years older than Beth, and he manages to see her as a woman.”

Dylan shifted minutely, trying to ease the agony in his lower abdomen. He must have been crazy to sit down and put Kate between his outstretched legs—either that or his subconscious was working double time against him. She made him feel as eager and charged as a teenage boy still trying to score his first kiss.

Why the sudden curiosity about something she ought to understand? Poor boys might date rich girls in books and movies, but they didn’t do it in the world he lived in.

“So, did it ever cross your mind?” Kate asked again. “I mean, about asking me out?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

“Oh.”

Her sigh was so soft he barely heard it.

“Jeez, Kate, what difference does it make now?”

“None. But we were friends, and I didn’t look that horrible, did I?”

“Well, no, but we were a million miles apart back then. Still are, for that matter.”

“A million miles? That’s not how it feels to me,” she muttered, so low he barely heard it. In fact, he wasn’t certain he was
supposed
to hear it. Though considering how agonizing it was to have her snug bottom pressed into the inseam of his slacks, she had a point.

He swallowed a groan.

Talking about the past wasn’t going to solve anything, but he knew Kate wouldn’t let it go at a simple answer. Women were bulldogs when it came to certain things, and she wasn’t an exception.

“Katydid, nothing can change the fact that my dad was just another one of your parents’ servants when we met—the weekend handyman. And I’m like my father,
I want to work with my hands. My brothers chose professional careers, but I’m a woodworker. Dad wanted to make furniture; I build buildings.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But there’s miles of difference between a rich society family and a guy who gets sweaty making a living. And I’m not interested in changing—I’ll take a pair of worn-out jeans over a tuxedo any day.”

Kate jerked away and twisted to look him. “Nobody’s asking you to change.”

“I was just trying to explain why dating you never crossed my mind. Hell, can you imagine how your father would have reacted if the kid who used to mow his lawns tried to take his only daughter out to dinner? He would have had me arrested.”

“
My
father? You have to be kidding—he wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Maybe, but your grandmother would have had me shot. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d risk having her precious bloodline sullied by someone so far beneath her.”

“You aren’t beneath anything.”

“Tell that to your grandmother!”

“I would, but she’s not available.” Kate’s voice was choked all at once and Dylan winced. She’d loved Jane Douglas, though it was never certain the same affection was returned.