No Place Like Home (17 page)

“
But it’s fun.” He propped himself up on one elbow and absently scratched Omar’s chin. “I’ll bet that the stranger he doesn’t get along with is Graham. Am I right?”

She turned another page, jotted down another address on what was promising to be a very short list, and tried to ignore him.

“
Your silence confirms my opinion,” Brendan pointed out.

What did it matter? she asked herself. “Graham doesn’t care for cats, that’s all. It’s a matter of taste. I wouldn’t like to have a python running around the house, myself.”

“
Why don’t you just keep Omar and get rid of Graham? A python would be a warm fuzzy compared to him.”

“
I do not want to hear any more of your nasty comments.”

“
Besides,” Brendan went on smoothly, “you can’t give a cat away as you would an old sweater you don’t wear any more. Omar wouldn’t understand.”

“
I don’t see that I have much choice, Brendan. I’ve let Omar get very spoiled, and he is horribly, jealous of Graham, that’s all. He’s too old to change, and it would be cruel to make him live with someone he doesn’t like.”

“
Oh, too true.”

Kaye eyed him warily, but Brendan looked angelically innocent. Omar rolled over and Brendan started to scratch the cat’s stomach. Omar stretched luxuriously and his purr grew so loud that Kaye could hear it halfway across the room.

“
He’s used to having things his own way,” she went on. “If I was to come down on the floor with you right now, he’d be so jealous and obnoxious that he’d probably claw you to pieces.”

Brendan patted the blanket. “Come on. Let’s see.”

“
I was only using that as an illustration,” Kaye said stiffly.

“
I know. But I’m inspecting a possible life’s companion here. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises after I get him home.”

“
You’re serious? You might take him?”

“
I might. Come on down and let’s see what happens.”

“
No, thanks.”

“
Are you scared?” he said softly. “Of me?”

“
Of course not. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make any more tasteless jokes about it.” She turned a page, having seen nothing that was on it. Her fingers were trembling. She couldn’t look at him.

“
I beg your pardon.” His voice was harsh.

She nodded stiffly. For the next few minutes, there was no sound in the room except for pages turning. Omar had stopped purring, as if he recognized the tension between them.

Or was the tension only in herself? Kaye wondered. Brendan was still sprawled on the floor with one forearm over his eyes; he looked as if he was asleep. Apparently it was only she who was uncomfortable.

And why should that be? she asked herself. Why should he have such tremendous power to upset her, to make her feel like a nervous schoolgirl?

She studied him with an attempt at scientific detachment. Emily was right about him being good-looking; even stretched out on the floor asleep he was one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. Her hand went out half-consciously to caress the rough fibers of his grey herringbone jacket, where he had flung it over the arm of the couch. It smelled ever so slightly of his aftershave.

His face was lean and relaxed at the moment. The mouth that could quirk in a sudden grin was unsmiling now. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could still picture them in her mind—so dark blue that they sometimes looked black, and yet never quite without that wicked sparkle that promised a teasing for someone...

“
Have I passed inspection?” he asked lazily.

Kaye sucked in a long, startled breath and dropped her eyes to the book in her lap, willing herself not to change color. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, as coolly as she could.

“
Oh?” He sat up. “I could have sworn you were watching me.”

“
Do you often have delusions that you’re being stared at?” she asked crisply.

He grinned. “Only when there’s a pretty girl in the room. What are you finding in the books?”

“
Not much.” It was a relief to have the subject changed, she thought, and then had second thoughts when he came across to the couch to see for himself.

“
Mind if I move this?” he murmured, and gently unclenched her hand from the sleeve of his jacket so he could lay it aside.

I was hanging on to it like a life preserver,
Kaye thought incredulously.
How perfectly embarrassing that he caught me doing it!
She lost the battle to keep from blushing.

He leaned over her shoulder. “Now, show me what you’ve found.”

She turned pages with tremulous hands, and leaned towards him to point out a photograph. “I thought that one was pretty.”

“
Lovely,” he said.

She waited for him to go on—surely he would have a comment about the neighborhood or the schools or the tax rates? But he said nothing, and when she looked up at him she realized that he wasn’t looking at the book at all.

“
You haven’t even seen it,” she accused.

“
No,” he said. He sounded almost sad. “All I can see when I’m in the same room is you, Kaye.”

Her heart was tap-dancing to an awkward, amateur rhythm, and her throat was so tight, she thought it would be a miracle if she ever breathed again. His hand brushed her hair with infinite gentleness, almost with reverence, and something deep inside Kaye seemed to shatter like an iridescent soap bubble. It was a bursting so quiet, so infinitesimal, that it seemingly had no meaning at all— except that afterwards, nothing could ever be quite the same again.

She didn’t remember moving at all, but she must have, for she was in his arms, pressing herself against him with a mindless abandon, as if she was trying to drown her own identity in his. “Please,” she whispered, not even knowing what she was saying. “Please…”

She seemed to be melting, she thought, and felt a sort of vague wonder, but no panic. Brendan guided her towards the blanket in the center of the floor, and she sank down on to it with relief, sighing with contentment deep in her throat when she was safe in this haven, with him beside her. Suddenly, it seemed, there was no hurry. They were alone, as if they were the only two souls in existence, with the entire universe to be their playground and all of time stretching out before them as the world spun lazily to a standstill...

Brendan seemed to know it, too. He nibbled at her throat, dropping kisses gently on the tender skin. His hand crept up under her loosely knit sweater, over the sensitive skin that stretched taut across her ribs, to the delicate swell of her breast. His touch sent shards of pleasure shivering through her.

Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as she unbuttoned his shirt, eager to be rid of the barrier it represented. Her hands wandered over his warm skin, caressing his strong shoulders and pulling him down to her. She was no longer content to wait.

As her hands locked together, the huge emerald on her ring finger cut viciously into her right palm, and she cried out. The pain of the scratch seemed to jolt some sense back into her head, and she stared up at him, horrified.

My God,
she thought,
have I gone completely insane? A woman who is engaged to one man does not make love on her living-room floor with another one!

“
Stop,” she said. Her breath was coming in painful gasps. “We can’t do this.”

“
It seems to me that we already are.” He sounded completely out of breath himself. “I’m not taking the blame for this one. You got yourself into this position, Kaye.”

“
I’m not asking you to take the blame,” she whispered. She couldn’t look at him. He hadn’t moved. His hand was still cupping her breast, and the warmth of his fingers was soaking into her skin.

“
You could be called a tease, you know, or worse— for acting like this.”

It was almost accusing, and she shivered a little. She was in real danger, she knew; a wise woman did not lead a man into this sort of excitement and then tell him to stop. If Brendan chose not to listen to her, there would be nothing she could do to resist him. Rape, she told herself, was not a pleasant word, but she knew she had never been closer to it in her life. “I wouldn’t blame you,” she whispered, painfully honest, “if—”

“
Oh, you wouldn’t?” he said. “Thank you for giving me permission to ravish you. You tempt me, Kaye, you really do. But I’m not quite that far gone, and I don’t think I’d enjoy having Graham come looking for me with a horsewhip, after you’ve told him about the nasty things I forced you to do.”

“
I have no intention of telling him about any of this.”

“
I daresay. But then, you’ve been known to change your mind before.” He rolled away from her, his fingers lingering against her breast for a long moment. “You’re a damned frustrating woman, Kaye Reardon.”

“
You don’t understand,” she said. “I need time to think.”

“
Well, when you’ve thought, let me know what you decide, will you? By telephone, please—we’ll both be a lot safer that way.” He rose in one graceful motion and reached for his necktie.

Kaye scrambled to her feet. She felt as if she’d been thoroughly mauled, and she was glad there wasn’t a mirror handy. “I don’t blame you for being angry,” she said. It was such a horribly inadequate thing to say that she was heartily ashamed of herself. Yet what else could she tell him? She could hardly say,
I’m sorry I didn’t let you make love to me.

But I am,
she thought, and the harsh realization caught at her throat.

He saw the shock of it in her eyes, and he sighed. “I’m sorry I sounded so crude,” he said. “I—well, you did give me a jolt, you know. Far more than Omar could have, if he’d chosen to throw a fit. Which he didn’t, in case you didn’t notice. Goodnight, Kaye.”

She followed him to the door. She wanted to remove a loose thread that lay on the lapel of his jacket, but she stopped herself in time. “Your books,” she said, finally.

He looked at them, spread haphazardly across the couch and the coffee table. “I think I’d better get out of here, before I change my mind and make myself at home,” he said. “I’ll pick the books up at the travel agency tomorrow.”

“
I won’t be there. I’m going out of town.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Kaye—” He put out a gentle hand, and drew his fingers down through her hair. It was a tentative gesture, as if he half-expected to be slapped. Then he was gone, leaving her standing in the cold breeze.

She stood there for a long time, welcoming the numbing cold because at least it made her feel alive. Finally, however, she closed the door when Omar protested at the draft, and sat down to think. It was past time to be asleep, if she was going to be at the airport at five in the morning. She should unfold the couch and crawl between the sheets right now. But she knew, if she tried to go to bed, that she would not rest.

What was happening to her? She was engaged to a man she was fond of, a man she respected. Though she wasn’t altogether certain that she loved Graham, she was convinced that blind, head-over-heels love was not always the most important ingredient in a marriage.

And yet, if she was content with her engagement, how could she possibly account for what had happened tonight?

“
There is no accounting for it,” she told herself. “It was temporary insanity.”

But it wasn’t the first time it had happened, honesty forced her to admit. Could she promise—as she must, when she married Graham—that it would be the last?

Certainly, she would never again let herself be caught up in that particular form of madness with Brendan McKenna. She would return his books to him as soon as she was back from the Bahamas, and that would be the last time she would ever see him. Graham could do the looking for houses from now on, she told herself. Kaye was disillusioned with the job.

And, since she would never see Brendan again, it followed logically that she would never have to worry about kissing him in the empty, tattered hallway of some old house, or making love with him on a blanket in her own living-room.

But was it really possible, in a town the size of Henderson, to know that she would never run into him again? And even if that could be guaranteed, would her mind be at peace? Or would she walk every day of her life, looking for him in the crowds, searching for him on the city’s streets, and swallowing hard each time a black-haired man turned out not to be the one she sought?

She bit her lip as the truth hit her in the face. He had crept into her heart, as Emily had said. Emily had thought Brendan was a passing fancy that, once indulged, would disappear. Kaye wasn’t sure it would be so easy to exorcize him from her life.

But she knew one thing. She could not marry Graham. Not now—not while she was carrying this longing for Brendan in her heart.

She put her head down beside Omar on his favorite pillow, and tumbled into sleep.

*****

She almost didn’t make it to the airport; if Omar hadn’t discovered that his water dish was empty, and let her know about it with a determined and off-key yowl, she would have slept through departure time. In fact, she considered doing that anyway; her bed, after a night spent curled up awkwardly in her clothes, seemed very appealing.

But the pale darkness that was early morning brought with it doubt. Had she really followed it through logically, step by step, last night? Or had she let the emotions of the moment persuade her that she must break her engagement?