The Way They Were (6 page)

He picked up a salt shaker and traced the “S”. “When’s her birthday?”

The calm in his voice matched hers but she didn’t miss the tensing of his neck muscles or the way his shoulders straightened, as though on heightened alert. A man like Rourke would not let it go. She told him and added, “Julia was a premie.”

She could see why the articles she’d read last night referred to him with words like strong-willed, compelling, and determined. Well, she would not fall apart under his interrogation. This was Julia they were talking about.
Her child
. Kate met his gaze and thought of Julia’s laughter as it bubbled through the house, filling the emptiness inside. “You should believe me because I’m telling you the truth.”

The left side of his jaw twitched. “Which truth is that? The one where you married Clay and had his child less than nine months later? Or the one where you got pregnant with my child and married Clay?”

“No!” Her heart slammed against her ribs with a force that bruised.

“No? No what?”

Rourke watched her like a lion about to devour its prey. He was waiting for a misstep. Kate shrugged and folded her hands in her lap. Julia was
her
child and Rourke Flannigan had no rights to her. “As disappointing as you may or may not be to hear every woman isn’t waiting to have your child, it’s the truth. You’re not Julia’s father. Clay is.” Bitterness flashed across his face and she knew what she had to do. “Why did I marry him? Because he didn’t leave and he vowed to love me until the second he drew his last breath.” She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table. “You think you have a right to question me because my baby was born a month early? How dare you.”

Rourke Flannigan, the entrepreneur with a quote for every magazine from
People
to
Newsweek
, was speechless. Kate cleared her throat and let out a quiet breath. “Now that we’ve settled that, I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring it up again.” He nodded, a quick jerk of his head that almost didn’t qualify as acknowledgement. His face had paled beneath the tan but his eyes had taken on a stony opaqueness that disturbed her. “If that’s all, I think I’ll be going.” Kate grabbed her purse and eased toward the edge of the booth.

Why did it matter to him so much? She’d seen the hurt on his face after she’d blown him away with her little speech about not living and breathing to carry his child. Angie would have been proud of the delivery, given with such conviction, contempt even, as to be convincing—if one didn’t know better. The man was obviously used to asking questions without regard to the sensitivity of the subject matter. He wanted a response? She’d give him one—sort of. “Everyone loved Clay,” she said, forcing a half smile. “He was just that kind of person.”

He actually huffed his irritation. “I know that, but did
you
love him?”

A left jaw twitch. A clenched mouth. Now he was irritated
and
angry. Good. Let him think ten times before asking such personal questions again. She had fourteen years of rage stored up for him and given the opportunity, she’d dole it out a teaspoon at a time. “You mean as much as I loved you?” Oh, he didn’t like that. “That’s really what you want to know, isn’t it?” His lips flattened but he said nothing, so Kate continued, “Of course, it is. That’s exactly what you want to know. Next you’ll be asking me to make comparisons about more, ah, intimate situations.”

“Just answer the damn question.”

Kate flung her purse over her shoulder and scooted out of the booth. “I did answer it, just not to your satisfaction.” Rourke squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples as though he were in real pain. She’d gotten to him, no doubt about that. Why then didn’t she feel vindicated? Why did she feel small and petty, and sorry that she’d hurt him with her cruel words? She reached out to touch his shoulder. Why at this moment did she want to press his head against her breasts and comfort him?

She yanked her hand away. Good Lord where had that come from? She stepped back, anxious to put distance between herself and the subject of that horrible thought. Kate pressed her hands together to keep from doing something stupid, like touch him, and said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, that was out of line.” He rubbed his left temple and said, “I never used to have to think about what I said to you. It just came out and you always understood.”

Maybe that was the problem, she understood what he was saying, and wished she didn’t. Kate shrugged and tried to ignore the confusion in his voice. “That was a long time ago.”

“I want to get to know you,” Rourke blurted out. The opaqueness in his eyes cleared and turned silver. “There’s fourteen years of mystery between us. Can’t you just share a little of that with me?”

“Why?”
So you’ll leave again?

“I don’t know, call it gut instinct, but right now it’s all I can think about.”

He’d almost destroyed her once with words like those. She couldn’t let it happen again, no matter how tempting. “Don’t do this to me, Rourke. I’m not as sophisticated as your socialite girlfriends. I don’t do well with empty words and emptier promises.”

“They’re not empty words. They’re the truth. And I haven’t made any promises. Yet.”

He sounded sincere. He looked sincere, with his eyes glittering a silver honesty. She thought she knew him once, but he turned out to be someone she hadn’t known at all. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” she said. It was the best she could do.

Chapter 7

“
Did he call you before he built his house, because this room’s in his house.”—Abbie Flannigan

Miles Gregory left Rourke two messages while he was at Sophie’s Diner with Kate. Rourke punched in Mile’s home number as he drove back to Montpelier Manor and waited for his lawyer to pick up.

“Mrs. Maden. Some well-credentialed attorney from New York has contacted her about representation in a wrongful death case. Rourke, we’re talking millions here.”

“I read the insurance and OSHA reports at least five times.”
To be certain there was nothing the company could have done to prevent the fall.
“They list Maden’s death as an accident.”

Kate.
“Actually, it’s a slow go. I’m still laying the groundwork.”

“For what?”

Good question.
“I’ve got to build her trust before I can get information from her.”

“Well, do it fast. The meeting is set for next week. You need to get in her head before that.”

“Say she doesn’t budge and they sue. What’s our liability?”

“He’s a big hitter, he’ll go for millions. Then there’s the publicity. And you can forget the deal with Megatron and Logistics. That’s based on your overall safety rate.”

“So we take a hit for a while.” This was Kate they were discussing. “It’s not as though we’d be out of business. Hell, isn’t that why we pay insurance premiums?”

“When they’re warranted, yes. And you can expect the premium to skyrocket or they might even drop us. The man’s death was an accident. Why would we pay on it?”

“I’m not saying we would. I just want the information so I can figure out our options.”

“If they sue, there’s only one option. We do what we always do when somebody tries to take a piece of something that’s not theirs. We eliminate them.”

Rourke hung up and stepped out of his car. Kate had been driving a Toyota Corolla, six or seven years old from the looks of it. He wondered what she’d look like in a Lexus LS. What a mess. She didn’t trust him, which was obvious from the way she’d attacked him when he’d asked about her daughter. And inquiring about her feelings for Clay had been about the most asinine thing he’d ever done. Now he had to go prowling around and try to find out about some lawyer who was trying to convince her to sue him. Only she didn’t know it was him. Yet. She couldn’t find out he was Reese Construction. If she did, she’d never trust him, and right now, it was very important she did.

He fitted his key in the lock and stepped inside. The manor was starting to grow on him, especially Mrs. Gibson who was the niece of the couple who had owned the place when he’d lived in Montpelier. All he needed was a little more time with Kate and maybe—

Rourke didn’t know whether to laugh or brush her aside. What would a father do? He had no idea. He opted for the boardroom approach. Abiga—Abbie, I am the CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation, am I not?”

“Yeah.” She started tapping her right foot. “So?”

Three quarters of the other Fortune 500 companies would bow in his presence if he let them, but apparently his thirteen-year-old niece did not understand her role here. Fine, he’d enlighten her. “Well, the CEO makes the rules, like the captain of a football team.”

“So, in this relationship right here,” he pointed to himself and Abbie, “I give the orders, I make the rules, and you follow them. Period.” There.

“So where were you? ‘Cause I’ve been sitting here for hours, wondering if you got killed and I’d be stuck in this rat hole forever.”

Then again, maybe a person really did have to be certifiably insane to want a child.

“I was just getting ready to walk to Julia’s house,” she said. “She invited me to hang out tonight but you’d already left and I couldn’t remember your cell number and I thought you’d blow a gasket if I just took off.”

“Julia?”

“Yeah, she’s really cool. Her dad died a few months ago. Some kind of accident. She’s an only child, too, just like me, so we’ve got this instant bond thing going. Her mom makes these dollhouses. Kind of weird but Julia says they’re cool. I guess they’re miniatures of people’s houses, like with the same exact furniture and everything. Maybe you should have her make a copy of your house.” She giggled. “I’d like to see her put twelve flat screens in a dollhouse. Rourke? You didn’t hear a word I said.”

Rourke’s niece seemed genuinely impressed. She was a short, petite thing with spiky auburn hair and sorrowful, brown eyes set deep in a pale, narrow face. She had Rourke’s nose and his jaw. When she smiled, which wasn’t often, Kate thought she saw a bit of Rourke in that, too. She should have known Julia and Abbie would meet. After all, how often did a new person arrive in Montpelier? Abbie’s uncle was the reason Kate had a headache today. She’d slept a total of two hours last night because memories of him, past and present, bombarded her attempts to sleep.

“This looks like my uncle’s place,” Abbie said, pointing to the Victorian house Kate used as a display.

Julia gave her an odd look. “He has
this
house?”

“Yeah. Kind of.” Abbie walked around the dollhouse and peered inside. “Five bedrooms. Pond in the back.” She scrunched up her nose and whispered, “But he has this dorky heart tub in his bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Kate gripped the coffee mug in her hands. “A heart tub?”

“Yeah, a Jacuzzi. It’s pretty dumb, but he likes it, I guess.” She lifted a thin shoulder. “I told him he should have you make a miniature of his house because I wanted to see how you’d put all the flat screens in there.”