The Count From Wisconsin (8 page)

But she couldn't. All she could think about was how beautiful the day was and how wonderful she felt.

Alex had begun to whistle as soon as they were on the road again, but she had been too absorbed to listen. Now she smiled, recognizing the song.

A fine romance.

Five

Shifting his position slightly, Alex flexed his stiff shoulder muscles. The sun was hanging low in the west as he glanced at the digital clock on the console, then across at the woman sleeping beside him.

Kate was curled up in the reclined leather seat, her hands forming a pillow under her cheek. She had had a rough day and most likely a confusing one.

Sighing gustily, he told himself he probably shouldn't have dragged her into this. It wasn't her affair and if nothing else it could get a little sticky. But to be fair to himself, he hadn't realized Alvarez would be leaving the area around Monaco. If he had known . . .

He smiled. If he had known he probably would have done the same thing. On the street back there in the Old City, it had seemed vitally important that he keep her with him, as though a voice inside his brain were telling him that it was his only chance with Kate.

He wished suddenly that he could have met her when he wasn't involved with this blackmail business. But then if he hadn't been involved hi it, would he have gotten to know her so quickly? Wouldn't they have had to go through the routine of dating and slowly learning to know each other before they even reached the point they were at now?

A rueful smile twisted his lips. If it took a high-speed chase to get close to her, then he was glad It had happened just the way it did. When they returned to Monte Carlo. Alex broke off his thoughts with a smothered exclamation. He had forgotten all about Paul. He should have called him when they stopped for lunch to let him know what was happening. Yes, he should have called, but his thoughts had been completely taken over by Kate.

He grinned in anticipation when he thought of her temper and the way she would react when she woke up and found they couldn't make it back to Monte Carlo tonight.

Reaching over, he gently touched her shoulder. "Kate. Kary love, wake up."

She moved her head until her cheek rested on his hand, then rubbed against it like a contented cat. It seemed that Kate could be tamed, but only in her sleep.

Chuckling, he said, "Kate, we've already passed Lyon; is that all right?"

She stirred slightly her lips curving in a lazy smile. It was a smile that took his breath away. "Lyon?" she murmured sleepily. "Lyon's nice."

He realized she hadn't come fully awake, but at least he had tried. Lifting his hand, he brushed back a golden curl from her temple, then reluctantly returned his full attention to the highway and the car ahead.

Some time later Kate felt warmth on her lips, then her ear. "What are you doin'?" she murmured.

"I'm kissing you."

That sounded reasonable. "Why're ya doin' that?" she asked drowsily, not really caring why, but feeling obligated to ask anyway.

" 'Cause all of a sudden, I had a cravin' flung upon me," he drawled and kissed her again.

"Are you making fun of the way I talk?" she said. Her Texas accent lost some of its strength as she came fully awake.

"Who, me?" he asked guilelessly.

She pulled herself upright. "Where are we?" Moving stiffly at first, she stretched her cramped muscles. She glanced out the side window at the growing darkness, then her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the small structure beside the car. "Is that a barn?" she asked slowly. "It is a barn." She swung around to face him, her eyes wary. "Alex, why are we parked beside a barn?"

"Because he stopped for the night," Alex said, opening the car door. "Alvarez stopped at the inn in town and took a small suitcase out of the car."

"Yes? Go on," she prompted expectantly. "That still doesn't explain why we're parked beside a barn."

"It was the only Inn in town—"

He had begun to step out of the car, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "And?"

"And if we stayed there for the night he would see us," he said, smiling as though he had said something wonderfully reasonable.

"If we stayed the night—" She broke off, too stunned to continue.

"So I found this place." He sounded extremely pleased with himself as he continued enthusiastically. "I checked at the house and the people are not home. I don't think they'd mind if we used their barn just for tonight. There are no animals in it for us to bother."

Kate stared in amazement. "You're honestly suggesting that we spend the night In that—that cow shed?" she sputtered. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then keeping her voice calm, said, "Alex, dear, call me a cab."

"There are no cabs," he said, not doing a very good job of hiding his amusement. "Probably not very many telephones from the looks of the place."

"Then you'll simply have to take me home," Kate stated firmly, leaning back in the seat to cross her arms in determination.

"It's too far to drive tonight." His midnight eyes were sparkling, but he kept his voice low and soothing. "Do you really want to travel those roads in the dark?"

She turned her head toward him sharply. "Listen carefully—I refuse to spend the night in a place even cows won't sleep in," she said stubbornly. "Do you hear? I refuse."

And Kate was still refusing five minutes later as she watched him bunch up hay on the floor of the small barn.

"Adventure," she muttered under her breath. "I wanted adventure. This is act two, Kate. Fate sent him, Kate," she continued, mimicking her own thoughts. "Well, I certainly got adventure. I'm about to sleep on a pile of moldy hay with a man I've known less than twenty-four hours." Then more loudly, "What kind of bugs do you suppose live in hay?"

He laughed over his shoulder as he went through the double doors on his way back to the car. A couple of minutes later he returned, still chuckling as he carried in a plaid wool blanket and the bag that contained the remainder of the food he had bought earlier.

While she watched in obstinate silence he spread the bright red blanket over the hay, then removed the meat pies and what was left of the wine. Then he turned to take a kerosene lantern from a hook by the door and raised it for her inspection with an implied "Ta-dah."

She humphed and shifted her stance, folding her arms once more across her middle. She felt silly standing in the middle of an empty barn while he did all the work, but he had to understand that she wouldn't keep on following his every lead. It had to stop somewhere.

After lighting the lamp, he stood and made a sweeping gesture of invitation toward the lumpy picnic spread, his smile gleaming in the dim light.

He looked so pleased with himself that Kate found her resolve quickly crumbling. Next time, she thought. Next time she would be firmer. And with that wonderful bit of equivocating, she shrugged and sat down.

She studied him intently for a while, then said, "You know, I think I've finally figured out why you like me."

"Oh?" He ran his eyes over her body with an exaggerated leer. "Little slow on the uptake, aren't you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm serious." She picked up a meat pie. "It's because I'm a cheap date. If you were with one of those froufrou women at your party, she would have expected caviar and champagne and a room at the Ritz. But good ole Katy Sullivan from Plum, Texas, gets cold meat pies and a pile of hay."

He chuckled. "Champagne and a room at the Ritz, huh? Ill keep that in mind for our second date." When she choked on her pie, he grinned, then said, "Plum," as though he were savoring the word. "I like that. Is it in the middle of a plum orchard or something?"

"As far as I know there isn't a plum tree within fifty miles of Plum. A lot of prickly pear cactus and mesquite trees, but no plums." She paused. "I guess Plum just sounds better than Prickly Pear, Texas."

He poured two mugs of wine and handed one to her. "So you create your cartoon world in Plum, Texas?"

"Actually I don't." She took another bite of the beef-and-mushroom-filled pastry and found it surprisingly good. "I have a place in Dallas and only get to Plum on the occasional weekend." She paused reflectively. "My hometown somehow puts things back into perspective. When I get caught up in the mad rush for success in Dallas and begin to think unimportant things are important, I simply go back to Plum for a while. The people in Plum still treat me like little Katy Sullivan, the girl next door. There are no imagined power struggles there, only very real struggles against the sun and the wind and the rain." She shrugged. "It keeps me whole."

She sent him a slow, appraising glance. "How about you? Do you go back to Wisconsin occasionally to find out who the real Alex Delanore is?"

He shook his head. "It's different with me. I'm only here because of Tony."

"You became a count Just to help out your friend?"

"I acquired the title and estate three years ago, but I've actively used my inheritance only in the last six months. That's when Paul and I came to Europe."

"Paul?"

"Paul works for me . . . and he's a personal friend. He came with me to help. You'll like him." He grinned. "I'm afraid neither of us is cut out for this kind of life, but I knew if I were going to get any information I would have to be right here where it was happening." He leaned back to rest on one elbow. "In Madison, I'm just plain Al Delanore. But I know what you mean about keeping you whole. After-a month or two of living the good life I began to wonder if I had dreamed my life in Madison ... or if this was the dream. It's hard to know what's real and that worries me. I never had that problem when I was running my construction company."

Construction. She stared at him in the dim light and a picture began to form—Alex, bare to the waist, tight faded jeans, sweat glistening on the muscles of his tanned body, a hard hat covering his dark hair.

Holy cow, she exclaimed silently, sucking in a stunned breath as the vision started her blood percolating. She cleared her throat roughly and asked, "Do you—do you sit in an office or go out with the men?"

He shook his head, sitting up to rest his forearms on his knees. "I can't stay in the office for long." He tapped his head. "The brain gets dull. Sooner or later, I have to get out where the action is."

She picked up a handful of hay and fanned her face furiously, ignoring his speculative glance. "I'd—I'd like to see you working someday."

She looked up and stared at shadows cast on his face. "You know, the first time I saw you I thought you looked like an American Indian. The resemblance is not as strong in the daylight, but now, with the shadows highlighting your cheekbones, you could almost be a Comanche warrior."

He laughed. "There is American Indian blood on my mother's side, but I'm afraid it's Choctaw . . . farmers, not warriors," he added apologetically.

Again a vivid image began to invade her thoughts—Alex, bronzed and bare, wearing a loincloth, his dark hair tied back with a leather w thong as he sat astride a sleek horse, carrying a bow and ... No, not a warrior, she corrected. It didn't matter. He'd look sexy even hoeing corn.

Stop It, she told herself sternly, giving her head a sharp shake. Imagery like that could only lead to trouble, especially since she was about to spend the night with the object of that imagery.

She made impersonal small talk through the rest of their meal, carefully overlooking the gleam in his dark eyes. When he took the remains of their food to the car to keep from tempting any animals that might be about, she stared after him for a moment, then sighed and took off her glasses, putting them in her purse. Her mind was definitely not on her hair as she let it down to begin the familiar nightly ritual.

"Damn, damn, damn," she muttered as the comb snagged again and refused to budge. The tangles she had acquired on her adventure were vicious.

Alex stepped back into the dimly lit barn, then stopped abruptly when he saw Kate kneeling on the blanket, her long hair freed at last.

Lorelei, he thought, sucking in a stunned breath.

He had never seen anything like it. It gleamed like molten gold in the flickering light, flowing over her shoulder to her waist. He suddenly felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.

When she turned to give him an inquiring glance, he squatted beside her and said gruffly, "Here, let me," taking the comb from her hand.

As he combed, he ran his other hand over the silken mass, surreptitiously picking up a handful to bring it to his cheek. When she shifted her position slightly, he dropped it hastily and cleared his throat.

"I think I've nearly got the tangles licked," he said hoarsely.

She laughed softly. "I don't know why I keep it this way. It's not that I'm especially fond of long hair. I think it's simply to avoid going to a hairdresser. I hate just sitting there for hours when I could be doing something. I'll probably have it cut as soon as I get back home."

"No!" he said quickly, then more calmly, "I don't think you should. Long hair suits you."

She turned slightly, giving him a strange look, and Alex could have kicked himself for his spontaneous reaction. It was only hair, for Pete's sake. Why was it causing him to breathe unsteadily? And why was he having to make such an effort to keep from burying his face in it?

But it wasn't only hair. It was Kate's hair. And there was something incredibly intimate about seeing it down. Perhaps it was because he knew somehow that not many people had seen her like this.