The Count From Wisconsin (5 page)

The kind of love they had involved a commitment Kate felt she was unable to give. Being responsible for another person's happiness was too heavy a load to carry. And depending on someone for one's own happiness was too uncertain a proposition for her practical character to handle.

The stubborn lines of her face softened as she saw Evan walking toward her. Although he wasn't from Plum as she and Heather were, he seemed to represent home ... or perhaps it was security that he represented, but Kate didn't want to admit to herself that any man could do that.

Whatever emotion he called forth in her, it was enough to make her stand and walk into his thin arms to receive his gentle embrace of greeting.

"Wonderful," she said, laughing in chagrin at the tears in her eyes. "Why am I so glad to see someone as homely as you? You do a Gary Cooper impression without ever opening your mouth."

"You're probably weak from hunger," he said, releasing her, then moving to sit at the table beside her. "I'm sorry I'm late." He glanced around the room. "Where's the addlepated love of my life?"

"She decided you would divorce her if you saw her without lipstick, so she's making repairs." Kate paused thoughtfully. "Why is it that after six years you both still seem like honeymooners?"

He smiled and leaned back in the delicate chair that looked incongruous beneath his lanky frame. "I suppose it's because we still practice being in love. We haven't perfected it yet, so we always have to keep trying." He shrugged his shoulders and looked embarrassed at having revealed so much of himself. "Now tell me about you, Kate. How are you? How's the cartoon business?"

"You had to ask, didn't you?" she said with a grimace. "I'm thinking seriously of opening a car wash."

"That bad, huh?"

"That bad," she confirmed. "But I don't want to talk about it now. Tell me what's been happening since I saw you last . . . I've already had Heather's version; now I'd like the truth."

He laughed and began to fill her in on how they lived their lives in Monte Carlo. She had to suppress a grin when she realized that he even talked like Gary Cooper.

"So why aren't you married?" Evan asked after a while, his face creased by a wicked grin because he knew how she always avoided that question. "You're twenty-eight years old . . . two years away from the big three-oh. Don't you think it's about time you were settling down?"

She laughed. "The sign of a happily married man. Trying to marry off all his friends." When he continued to stare at her with one expectantly raised eyebrow, she said, "All right, I want to get married but my astrologer said my sign was in the wrong house ... or was it that my house was in the wrong sign? Come to think of it, it may have been Jupiter that was in the wrong house. If there are headlines about him breaking and entering, we'll know for sure."

"Cut the bull, Katy. I want to see you as happy as Heather and I are."

She grinned. "Honest, I'd get married in a minute, but the man I'm involved with—I've told you about Conan, haven't I? Well, Conan is into heavy metal and until I can adjust to the idea, I think we'd better just go steady."

"Kate."

The quietly spoken word stopped her and she sighed, staring down at her hands. "I don't think I could ever be in a relationship like yours and Heather's," she said softly. "I'm just not like you."

"So who said it had to be like ours?"

Damn, he was hardheaded.

"Evan, I know you want me to be happy, but married doesn't necessarily equal happy. In fact," she added ruefully, "most of the time it's just the opposite." She paused and glanced away from his probing eyes. "Evan, I've tried," she said in a distracted voice. "I really have. But something always stops me before I take the last step. I rationalize by telling myself that whoever I'm considering couldn't possibly be right or I wouldn't have reservations."

"And you realize that's just an excuse?"

"I suppose so ... oh, I don't know," she said in exasperation. "If it's that hard for me to consider making a commitment, maybe I'm just not marriage material."

Evan smiled indulgently. "You don't believe that and neither do I. You're a giver. And you always let takers attach themselves to you." He laughed as if to counteract the seriousness of what he was saying. "You've never learned how to lean on another human being. You think it would be a sign of weakness so you hide your emotions behind your tough exterior, but, Katy, someday someone will give to you and you'll have to give that hidden part back in return."

Kate shuddered as though a soothsayer had just predicted her demise. The thought of being in the kind of relationship that Evan wanted for her gave her a funny feeling in her stomach. It frightened her and Kate didn't like being frightened. She looked up to change the subject to something less disturbing; then stopped when she saw Evan's eyes trained on something over her shoulder.

"What have you been doing while I was out of town?" Evan murmured, raising his brows.

"Why do you ask like that?" she said, chuckling. "Like I've been planning to rob the casino or something?"

"No, not a robbery,"he said. "But you seem to have attracted the attention of a pretty big fish."

She began to turn in her seat, but before she had barely begun to move, she felt the tingling sensation she had felt only on one other occasion in her life. She tightened her fists on the table and let her gaze travel with unerring accuracy to a table in the corner of the room.

Alex was sitting alone, his gaze trained on her steadily. As their eyes met, he lifted his wineglass in a silent toast, smiling slowly. She was suddenly struck with that same, strange tumid vision that had affected her the night before. Everything disappeared but his smile.

"He came in behind me and I thought at the time he looked at you oddly."

Evan's voice pulled her back to the present and she glanced away from Alex's dark, compelling eyes and found Evan staring at her with an amused expression on his craggy face.

"But now he's staring a hole in your back," he continued. "Where on earth did you meet Alex Delanore?"

"You know him?" she asked hoarsely.

"I wouldn't say I know him," Evan said ruefully,
"but in a place this small you see and hear things.
I've seen and heard enough to know he's out of
my league . . . and yours, come to think of it. How
did you manage to attract the attention of this
month's celebrity?"

"I—I met him at a party," she stuttered uncomfortably. "But I barely know him. I can't imagine why he's staring at me," she lied. "What do you know about him?"

Evan leaned back and took a sip of wine. "Let's see. He's new on the scene and everyone's darling. He has a chateau in Lucerne, one in Belgium, and a villa here. The extent of his wealth is a matter of constant speculation as is his background. He likes women and gambling, spends money like water, and if you want to know what toothpaste he uses, I could probably find out for you by this afternoon."

Kate gave a gasp of surprised laughter. "Whew! Are you trying to tell me that there is a touch of gossip floating around this place?"

"A touch?" he asked, laughing. "It's the leisure occupation of ninety percent of the population." He stared at her curiously for a moment, then leaned forward to place his hand on hers. "What's wrong, Katy?"

Suddenly her hand began to tingle crazily, almost burning with the intensity of the sensation, and she jerked her hand away and rose quickly.

"I—I've just remembered something, Evan. I've got to go." She began to move away as she spoke. "Apologize to Heather for me and tell her I'll see her back at the house." Then, without giving him a chance to speak, she walked briskly out of the restaurant.

Outside on the street, she leaned against a white stone building and took deep breaths until her heart stopped pounding. Then she began to walk slowly, feverish thoughts spinning crazily in her head.

Alex stood and moved across the room sifter Kate. One of the benefits of being part of the nobility, he thought dryly as he walked out of the restaurant. Nobody chases you when you leave without paying the tab.

Out in the bright sunlight, he saw her walking slowly away from the building. He smiled in enjoyment of the picture she made as a connoisseur of fine art might smile at the Mona Lisa, an appreciative smile certainly, but perhaps containing a particle of ownership as though this beauty had been created especially for him to enjoy.

Last night she had beckoned his senses and he had been dazzled by her. Today . . . today she beckoned his imagination and he was enchanted.

Her long blond hair was in a roll at the base of her neck, reminding him of a beauty from the nineteen-fifties, and to add to the image, a wide-brimmed white hat framed her face. Her white dress was covered with big navy polka dots and tapered from wide lapels to a small waist cinched by a wide white belt. Her image was all innocence and springtime.

For a moment he hesitated, wondering why he was leaving himself open for another rejection. It wasn't because he thought she had anything to do with Tony's trouble; he was positive she didn't . . . well, almost positive. So why was he bent on harassing a woman who obviously wanted nothing to do with him?

Then one of the sayings that Moustafa was constantly throwing at him popped into his head. The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.

He smiled, his chin jutting out in determination, and quickened his step.

Suddenly Kate was not walking alone. She turned her head slightly to the side, but she knew already who it was. Alex was calmly striding along at her side, staring straight ahead. Feeling her heart begin to pick up the wild beat again, she increased her pace, trying to ignore his presence.

"You win."

The softly spoken words startled her as much as if they had been shouted.

"I admit it, Duchess," he continued, his deep voice smooth and calm. "Even though you ran out on me last night, I'm still interested."

She stopped walking and looked him over very carefully. "Should I kneel and kiss your hand or simply alert the local press?" she said, smiling sweetly.

When he merely laughed and glanced at her with warm intimacy, she said, "Look, Count, I'm not a duchess. I'm nobody. I'm simply a struggling cartoonist on vacation who chose your party at random to crash because I needed material. That's all," she said firmly.

"You're a cartoonist?" he asked in surprise. "Which cartoon?"

Why did she feel she could hear relief to his voice? What did he think she did for a living, for heaven's sake? She glanced up at him. "The Dobsons. Why?"

"The Dobsons," he said in recognition, apparently unconcerned with her question. "I used to read that."

"Used to." Her voice was disgruntled. "Would you like for me to turn around so you can stab me in front too?"

"I'm sorry," he said, grinning an apology. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"I guess I'll have to get used to it," she said moodily, then looked around to find they were walking arm in arm down the street. "Alex," she said, sighing in exasperation, "what is all this about?" She glanced up at him, her face held in sober lines. "I've heard a little about you this morning, and it's not that I'm not flattered, but why are you pursuing me?"

He stopped walking and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his head to stare up at the sky. She waited silently and after a moment he glanced back at her and shrugged, a twisted smile appearing on his stark features.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I could say you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but you're not."

"You honey-tongued devil, you," she said, choking on the spurt of surprised laughter.

"I could say you're the most interesting person I've ever met, but I've met Richard Nixon," he said, studying the conflicting emotions in her face.

"And there must be at least. . . two women in the world who are sexier than I am," she said, helping him out.

"At least," he said, beginning to chuckle. "And several who are more successful."

"Well," she said, drawing in a deep breath. "We've eliminated why you're not interested in me, now tell me why you are."

"I don't know," he said, shrugging again. "Maybe it's that weird, warm feeling that takes over every time I get close to you."

"You could get the same thing from a cup of cocoa."

He moved closer to her. "No, I couldn't . . . that's just the point. I've never felt it before. Only with you."

Trouble, she thought, backing warily against the wall behind her. There was sincerity in his tone and that was trouble.

"Look, Alex," she said, her voice faint. "I'm glad I make you feel nice, but I still don't understand why you're following me." She raised her chin belligerently. "For heaven's sake, what do you want?"

He placed his hand on the wall above her head. "I want you to get naked," he said as though discussing the weather. "I want—"

She gasped and felt hysterical laughter well up inside her. "Wait—forget I asked," she choked out fervently. "I dont want to know."

"You shouldn't have asked if you didn't want to know," he said simply, tilting her hat brim with one finger so he could see her face as he continued. "I want to see all of you. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to take down your hair and feel it falling around me when we make love. I want you to burn with as much need as I feel, as I've felt since last night. I want... I want it all, Kathryn."