September Morning (13 page)

Blake's eyebrow jerked, but he didn't reply.

When they finished the tour, Vivian persuaded Blake to take her out for coffee, and he left Kate with a dictaphone full of letters to be typed. It rankled her that Vivian, who had gotten her breakfast at home, was being treated to coffee and doughnuts while Kathryn, who had been dragged away from her breakfast, got nothing. She was somewhat mollified a half hour later when Blake came back and set coffee in a styrofoam cup and a packaged pastry in front of her on the desk.

“Breakfast,” he said. “I seem to recall making you miss yours.”

She smiled up at him, surprised and pleased, and her face lit up.

“Thanks, Blake,” she said gently.

He shrugged his powerful shoulders and strode over to the dividing door between her office and his. “Any problems with the dictaphone?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Only with your language,” she remarked, tongue-in-cheek.

He lifted an amused eyebrow at her. “Don't expect to reform me, Kate.”

“Oh, I don't know a woman brave enough to try, Blake,” she said with angelic sweetness to his retreating back. Switching off the electric typewriter, she opened her steaming coffee.

It was almost quitting time when Phillip stopped by the office to see Blake. He leaned his hands on Kathryn's desk and grinned at her.

“Slaving away, I see,” he teased lightly.

She sighed. “You don't know the half of it,” she groaned. “I never realized how much correspondence it takes to keep a plant like this one going. Blake even writes to congressmen and state senators and the textile manufacturers association—by the way, I didn't realize he was president of it this year.”

“See how much you're learning?” Phillip teased. He reached out a hand and tipped her chin up, bending close to whisper, “Has Blake flicked you with his whip yet?”

Her eyes opened wide and she smiled. “Does he have one?” she whispered back.

It was pure bad luck that Blake should choose that moment to open his office door. He glared at Phillip so blackly that the younger man backed away from the desk and actually reddened.

Blake jerked his office door shut. “Take Kathryn home with you,” he told his brother curtly. “Vivian and I are going out to supper.”

And he left the office without even a backward glance, while Kathryn sat there with her heart in her shoes, wondering how Blake could have been so loving earlier in the day and so hateful now. What had she done? Or was it just that Blake was already feeling regrets?

***

The days fell into a pattern. Kathryn rode to work with Blake every morning, and back with him in the evenings. Although he was business-as-usual in his dealings with her, Vivian seemed to purple when Kathryn and Blake left together. The blonde did everything except lobby for a job of her own to try to take up Blake's free time. And she succeeded very well.

By Saturday, Kathryn was ready for some relaxation, and since Vivian had talked Blake into taking her by plane for a shopping trip to Atlanta, Kathryn asked Phillip to go with her to one of the new malls in town. The request seemed to irritate Blake, but Kathryn ignored his evident displeasure. After all, what right did he have to interfere with her life? He was too wrapped up in Vivian to care what she did. Even the thought of going to the islands with him was frightening now—although she knew she'd never be strong enough to renege on her promise to accompany him. She loved him too much, wanted to be with him too much, to refuse. He might marry Vivian, but at least Kathryn would have a few memories to tuck away.

***

“You're walking me to death,” Phillip groaned, hobbling with exaggeration to the nearest bench in the busy mall. He eased down with a stage sigh and smile.

“We've only been in five shops,” she reminded him. “You can't possibly be tired.”

“Five shops, where you tried on fifteen outfits each,” he corrected.

She plopped down beside him, sighing wearily. “Well, I'm depressed,” she said. “I had to do something to cheer me up.”

“I'm not depressed,” he said with a sigh. “Why did I have to come along?”

“To carry the packages,” she said sensibly.

“But, Kathryn, love, you haven't bought anything.”

“Yes, I have. In that little boutique we just came from.”

His eyebrows lifted. “What?”

“This.” She handed him a small sack containing a jeweler's box with a pair of dainty sapphire and diamond earrings inside. “Aren't they lovely? I charged them to Blake.”

“Oh, no,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Anyway, you can carry them,” she said, “so you'll feel necessary.”

“How will I ever survive all these honors you confer upon me?” he asked with mock humility.

“Don't be nasty,” she chided, pushing against his shoulder with her own as they sat side by side. “I really am depressed, Phil.”

He studied her dejected little face. “What's wrong, kitten? Want me to slay a dragon for you?”

“Would you?” she asked hopefully, her green eyes wide. “You could sneak up on her while she's sleeping, and…”

“Your eyes need checking,” he remarked, lifting an eyebrow at her as he folded his arms and leaned back against the wooden bench. “Vivian isn't a dragon.”

“That's what you think,” she muttered. “Wait until she's your sister-in-law and see if you still like her.”

“Vivian? Marry Blake?” He sat up abruptly, staggered. “Where did you come by that piece of utter nonsense?”

“It isn't nonsense,” she told him, sulking. “She's just his style. Beautiful, sophisticated and blond.”

“That's his taste, all right. But do you really think he's got marriage on his mind?” he asked with a wry grin. “That
isn't
his style.”

“Maybe she's something special,” she grumbled, hating everything about the woman. She glared into space, hurting in ways she never had before. “She told me that Blake wanted her over here to meet us.”

“I know. She's the power behind her father. She controls everything he does, or haven't you noticed her ordering him around?”

She shifted on the bench and crossed her legs. “Blake spends all his time with her. Don't tell me it's just for business reasons,” she replied, smoothing the close-fitting designer jeans over her thighs. Her eyes dropped to her cream-colored cowboy boots and she grimaced at a scuff on the toe.

“You and I spend a lot of time together, too,” he reminded her. “But we're just friends.”

She sighed. “That's true.”

“And Blake hates it.”

Her eyes jerked up. “What?”

He grinned. “He's jealous,” he laughed.

She went cherry pink and averted her gaze. “You're nuts!”

“Am I? He's crazily possessive about you. He always has been, but in the past few days I'm almost afraid to sit beside you when he's at home.”

She felt her heart racing at the words. She hoped against hope that they were true, even while she knew they weren't. “He's just the domineering type,” she corrected nervously.

“Really? Is that why he deliberately picked a fight with your boyfriend to send him packing?” Phillip eyed her narrowly. “When we got home from Charleston, Blake was gone and you were hiding in your room with a headache. What happened between you two while we were gone?”

The blush went all the way to her toes. She couldn't answer him.

“You light up when he walks into a room,” he continued, smiling. “And he watches you when he thinks no one's noticing. Like a big, hungry panther with its eyes on a tasty young gazelle.”

She hadn't known that, and her heart went wild. “Oh, Phil, does he, really?” she asked involuntarily, and everything she felt was in the starved look in the soft eyes she lifted to his.

He nodded quietly, studying her. “That's just what I thought,” he said gently. “Adding your heart to the string he drags behind him, kitten?”

“Is it so obvious?” she sighed miserably. She turned her attention to the passersby.

“To me, because we've always been close,” he replied. “I knew why you bought that sexy dress even before you did. You wanted to see what effect it would have on Blake. Dynamite, wasn't it, girl?” he asked knowingly, with a teasing smile.

She flushed wildly. “Do you hide behind the curtains?” she whispered, embarrassed by his perception.

“I'm not in my adolescence, Kate,” he reminded her. “You and Blake have always been passionate with each other. You push him hard—it isn't hard to guess at the reaction you get. Blake's not a gentle man.”

How little he knew his brother, she thought, her mind going back longingly to that lazy morning in the gazebo…

“Or is he?” he whispered, reading her dreamy expression.

She glared at him. “Don't pry.”

“I'm not trying to mind your business,” he said gently. “But I don't want to see you end up the loser. Blake's a very experienced man. He may be tempted by a bud about to blossom, but he's shy of nets. Don't try to cut your teeth on him. You might as well try to build a fence around the wind.”

“What you really mean is that I can't compete with Her Ladyship,” she threw at him.

“That's exactly what I mean,” he said with gentle compassion. He patted her hand where it lay on the wood bench. “Kathryn, an experienced woman can attract a man in ways that an inexperienced one wouldn't even think of. I don't want to see you hurt. But you must know you're no competition for Vivian.”

“Who said I was trying to be?” she asked. Her face shuttered. “You make Blake sound like a…”

“Blake is my brother,” he reminded her. “And I'd do anything for him. But he's just noticed what a delicious little thing you've grown into, and he's lost his bearings. It won't take him long to find them, but that tiny space of time could be enough to destroy you.” He squeezed her hand and grimaced. “Love him as a brother. But not as a man. I don't have to tell you how Blake feels about love.”

She felt the life draining out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded weakly. “He doesn't believe in it,” she whispered shakily.

“Blake wants one thing from a woman,” he said. “And he can't have it from you.”

She smiled wistfully. “He wouldn't take it even if I offered,” she said quietly, darting a look at him.

“Not deliberately,” he agreed. “But you could make him forget every scruple he has, little one. Or didn't you know that men are particularly vulnerable to women they want?”

She sighed softly. “And Blake being Blake, he'd marry me, wouldn't he? Even though he hated the idea of it, and me, he'd do the honorable thing.”

“That's exactly what I mean.” He held her hand gently. “Nothing would make me happier than to see you happily married to my brother. But I know Blake too well, and so do you. He's too much a cynic to change overnight.”

“You don't think he could…care for a woman?” she asked haltingly.

He shrugged. “Blake is a private man. I've lived with him all my life, but there are depths to him that I've never been allowed to explore. Perhaps he's capable of love. But I think in a way he's afraid of it. He's afraid of being vulnerable.” He glanced at her with a dry smile. “He may marry eventually to provide Greyoaks with an heir. He may even fall in love. I don't know.”

“You said he was possessive of me,” she reminded him.

“Naturally, he's taken care of you half your life,” he said. “But what he really feels, no one knows.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded, turning away to stare at the pavement. “You're right, of course.” She forced a smile to her frozen face. “Let's go get an ice-cream cone.”

He caught her arm gently and kept her from getting up. “I'm sorry,” he said suddenly. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“What makes you think you have?” she asked with a smile that was too bright.

“You're in love with him.”

She felt her face go white. She was only just beginning to admit that to herself. But, confronted with the accusation, she found she couldn't deny it. Her mouth tried to form words, but her tongue wouldn't cooperate.

He read the confusion in her face and stood up. “Ice cream. Right. What flavor would you like, Kathy…vanilla or strawberry?”

***

It was only two days until Blake planned to fly them to St. Martin. The pace at the office was hectic. Kathryn took dictation until her fingers felt numb, and Blake's temper, always formidable, seemed to be on a permanent hair trigger.

“You know damned well I don't use my middle initial in a signature,” he growled at her, slamming the letters she'd just typed down on his desk violently. “Do them over!”

“If you don't like the way I do things,” she complained tightly, “why don't you let Vivian come in and work for you?”

“She'd have been in tears by now,” he admitted, with a faintly amused smile.

She straightened in the chair beside his desk, crossing her slender legs impatiently in the gray skirt that matched her silk blouse. “Afraid you might tarnish your shining armor?” she asked.

He studied her through a veil of smoke from his cigarette, his dark eyes thoughtful. “There isn't much danger of that happening with you, is there, Kate?” he asked quietly. “You know just about everything there is to know about me, my faults, my habits.”

“Do I really know you at all, Blake?” she wondered absently. “Sometimes you seem very much a stranger.”

He lifted his cigarette to his mouth. “Like that day in the gazebo, Kate?” he asked softly, watching the burst of color that shot into her face.

Her eyes darted back to her pad, and her heart ran away. “I don't know what you want from me anymore, Blake.”

He got up and moved in front of her, leaning down to catch her chin in his big hand and lift her face up to his piercing gaze. “Maybe that works both ways,” he said gruffly. “You're very young, Kathryn Mary.”

“Oh, yes, compared to you, I'm a mere child,” she returned.

“Little spitting kitten,” he chided. Something wild and dangerous smoldered in his eyes. “Would you hiss and claw if I made love to you, Kathryn, or would you purr?”

She caught her breath sharply. “Neither!”

His eyes glittered down at her. “You don't think I could teach you to purr, Kate? Your mouth was wild under mine that day. I can still taste it, even now.”

“I…didn't know what I was doing,” she whispered weakly, embarrassed at the memory of her abandoned response.