A Bridge to Love (17 page)

As
they circulated, Kate could not keep herself from surreptitiously checking on
Table Three. She even scanned new arrivals and was disappointed when Randall
was not in their midst. The fizz of excitement began to go flat.

They
sat down for dinner and discovered that Paul Desmond had indeed made it to the
ball. Kate had a long conversation with him, and was reassured that he would
continue in C/R/G's tradition of dealing well and fairly with clients.

The
diners were picking at the remains of dessert and coffee when Frank Peltier
appeared beside Oliver's chair. After Frank had described his new office in
minute architectural detail, and expressed his personal condolences on David's
death, he asked Kate to dance.

Surprised,
she rose and moved to the dance floor with him. As they chatted, she sensed
that he was moving her in a specific direction. “I was under orders to bring
you back to my table,” he explained as he stopped dancing and led her between
the diners.

As
they approached Table Three, a tall, sandy-haired man rose and offered her his
hand. “Kate Chilton, a pleasure it is to meet you. I'm Tom Rogan. I work with
Randall Johnson at RJ Enterprises.”

She
did a fast scan of the table, but Randall had not arrived while she was on the
dance floor. As she shook hands with Tom, she caught his look of assessment.
Without speaking, Kate raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“A
friend of Randall's is a friend of mine,” he said with a disarming grin. “And I
wanted to meet the woman with the impressive resumé.”

“Resumé?”
Kate repeated, frowning.

“Phil
Gabelli sent it along to RJ Enterprises. But alas, someone had beaten us to
you.”

If
Tom Rogan had read her resumé, Randall must have seen it too. Now he knew more
about her than she was comfortable with.

Her
discomfort became acute when an unmistakable voice sliced through the babble of
conversation around them.

“Frank,
how many mules did you have to ride to get here? Tom, you look like a waiter in
that tux.”

Tom
responded, “You look like a cardsharp with all those diamonds flashing. I
thought that you weren't coming because you couldn't get a date.”

“My
date just came with the wrong man.” Randall knew that Kate had heard him
because he saw her spine stiffen. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I had to
beat Prince Charming to the glass slipper.”

In
fact, he had not intended to come. A little over an hour ago, he had been sitting
in his office at Eagle's Nest. When he realized that he was reading the same
contract for the third time, he threw it across the room. He felt better so he
picked up the next file and hurled it across the room, too. He swiveled around
and stared out the window at the lights of Manhattan and then abruptly got up
and strode into his bedroom.

Stripping
out of his casual clothes, he ripped his tuxedo out of the closet. As he was
stabbing diamond studs through the starched pleats of his formal shirt, he looked
at himself in the mirror and said in disgust, “You're a damned fool.”

He
had muttered another curse when he arrived and saw Kate standing beside Frank
Peltier. He trusted Frank's discretion, but he knew that Kate could get you to
talk about things you wouldn't ordinarily. He hoped that she would not make any
connection between Frank and Tower Design.

Kate
turned to him and pointedly held out her hand. “Hello, Randall. I'm glad that
you didn't miss the ball completely. The decorations alone are worth the price
of admission.”

Randall
took her hand and held it as he let his eyes rove over her.

She
had the Gretchen mask perched on top of her hair and yet she still managed to
look like a duchess. The mask somehow emphasized the regal tilt of her head and
the slender line of her neck. His gaze moved to the shadow between her breasts
and he enjoyed the way her suddenly indrawn breath made the shadow deepen. When
she pulled her hand away abruptly, he raised his eyes slowly to her face and
let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He wanted to drag her into a
private corner, slide his hands up under those billowing skirts...

Kate
watched in fascination as Randall's smile changed into a look of pure lust. The
people standing around them faded into a blur of color as she caught her
breath. She knew what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing...

“There
you are, Kate. I thought that you might need a guide back to our table.”

Oliver's
voice was tight with annoyance, but Kate was grateful to him for breaking the
pull of Randall's gaze. He held out his hand to Randall. “I don't believe that
we've met. I'm Oliver Russell.”

“Randall
Johnson.”

The
two men shook hands so briefly it seemed more like the quick salute of two
fencers. Oliver slid his arm conspicuously around Kate's waist. “I think that
we've done some work for one of your subsidiaries, Pharmatech.”

Randall
nodded. “Did you work on the new lab?”

“We
weren't the original architects. We got called in to do some exterior
adjustments because the neighbors weren't happy.”

“I
just visited there a couple of weeks ago. You did a fine job.”

Kate
listened with growing incredulity. Oliver had never mentioned that he had
worked on one of Randall's buildings. And Randall had never mentioned that he
had seen C/R/G's work. She did not for a minute believe that he hadn't known
exactly who the architects were at Pharmatech.

“I'm
always amazed at what a small world it is,” she said with a distinct edge in
her voice. “You two have done business together, and none of us realized it.”

Oliver
had the grace to look slightly guilty. “I just put the two together myself,
Kate. We did the job several months ago.”

Randall
quirked an eyebrow. Kate responded by lifting her chin in a gesture of disdain.
She remembered his crack about the way she looked down her nose and added a
glare before she turned to Frank Peltier. “I wish you the best of luck with
your new location.”

“Come
visit me, and bring your sons,” Frank said, kissing her on the cheek in
farewell.

“That
would be a long mule ride,” Randall put in.

“Most
people fly there,” Frank smiled.

“Not
Kate,” Randall said. “She likes to keep her feet firmly on the ground.”

Kate
could feel Oliver stiffen as he caught the intimate tone of Randall's teasing.
His arm tightened around her as he said, “Excuse us. A few members of our table
are leaving and wanted to say good-bye to Kate.”

“I'll
come find you for the next waltz,” Randall said.

“I
believe that my dance card is filled up.”

Randall
leaned down so that only she could hear him. “I didn't come all this way to
talk. We
will
dance.”

“Hmm,”
Kate said vaguely as Oliver practically yanked her away.

As
soon as the crowd allowed, Kate pulled away from Oliver. “Are you trying to
crush my ribs?” she asked, shaking out her flattened skirt.

“I'm
trying to get you away from a man who's looking at you as if you were a
prostitute,” Oliver said between clenched teeth. “Did he send Frank Peltier
over to pimp for him?”

Kate
gasped. “Really, Oliver, that's offensive.”

“Is
it? I found the way Randall Johnson looked at you more offensive.” Oliver took
her arm in a firm grasp. “Let's get back to our table. The Gershons and the
Desmonds want to leave.”

They
made the trip back to Table Fifteen in silence. Kate was chatting with a
builder and his wife when she sensed a presence behind her. Just as she was
about to glance around, Randall took her wrist and said, “I hope that you folks
will excuse us. Ms. Chilton promised me this waltz.”

Before
Kate could think he had propelled her onto the dance floor and pulled her into
his arms. “I once heard that dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal
desire,” he drawled. “Of course, I'm not that particular about the position,
I'm just interested in the desire.”

“Just
be quiet and let me enjoy this,” Kate said.

His
eyebrows lifted in surprise but he obeyed her request. Kate was free to
concentrate on the warmth of his palm against hers, and the strength of his arm
around her waist. She, Randall, and the lilting music seemed to meld into a
single glorious pulse as they spun across the dance floor. Kate tilted her head
back and let herself luxuriate in the dark fire that burned in his eyes. When
he tightened his arm around her, she welcomed the thrust of his thigh between
hers.

The
two dancers were happily oblivious to the interest of several watchers. Oliver
stood rigid as he followed Kate and Randall's progress around the floor. When
he saw Kate's gaze lock with her partner's, his nostrils flared white with
fury.

Tom's
date gestured towards the dancers. “Did you know that your boss waltzes like a
dream?”

“I
don't think I've ever noticed him waltzing before tonight,” Tom said.

“Who
is that woman? Randall's like a hawk watching a field mouse.”

“Kate
Chilton. She's the widowed mother of two small boys. Her husband was an architect,
that's why she's here.”

“Your
boss and a woman with children? I can't believe it.”

“The
strangest part is that the lady seems to be the reluctant player in this game.”

“She
doesn't look at all reluctant right now.”

Tom
watched the couple for a moment. “She's either playing a very deep game or she
really wants him to leave her alone. He invited her to this ball and was in a
foul mood when she turned him down.”

“I
would have said that Randall Johnson was virtually irresistible, particularly
when he wants something.”

“Then
I hope he never sets his sights on you.”

The
waltz was rising to its triumphant finale, and Kate now knew with certainty
that she could never marry Oliver. She couldn't marry any man unless every
thought in her mind, every nerve in her body, and every pulse of her heart were
as attuned to him as she felt to Randall Johnson at this moment. She reveled in
the glorious feeling and despaired at the impossibility of holding on to it.
Her mood shattered completely as she finally acknowledged that the attraction
she had tried to shrug off had evolved into something much deeper. She felt
like sobbing.
How could I have been so
stupid as to fall in love with this impossible man?

The
music swelled and stopped. Randall ceased moving but kept his hold on her.
“Come home with me.”

“No.
I came with Oliver. I have to leave with Oliver.”

He
shifted impatiently. “Call me when you get home. I'll come pick you up.”

“No.”

The
music started again, this time a slow, Latin beat. Randall pulled her closer
and started dancing. “What are you wearing – armor?” he asked, as he slid his
hand up and down the velvet of her bodice.

“A
corset. Like Scarlett O'Hara, but with the dubious modern improvement of
elastic and hooks.”

“I
want to take it off of you.”

“I'm
sure you do, but I'm going to do it all by myself.”

“Don't
play with me. You want to make love as much as I do.”

She
sighed. “What I want and what I know I should do are two different things. I'm
not playing, Randall. I have two other people depending on me, and no one, not
even you, can make me forget that.”

“So
you're going to marry Oliver Russell and be a good little wife and mother.”

“I
don't care for the sarcastic tone.”

Randall
leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue around her ear.

“Stop
that,” she gasped as the warmth and wet sent a shock of sensation blazing
through her. She pulled herself out of his arms and fled from the dance floor.

She
managed to stumble into the Ladies' Lounge where she collapsed on a stool and
buried her face in her hands.

Fifteen

“Randall can be quite a handful,
can't he?” a female voice said.

Kate
raised her head to find a tall blonde in a form-fitting white sheath applying
lipstick at the mirror beside her.

“I
saw you dancing with him before I came in, so I assume he's what led to your
need for sanctuary.”

The
woman examined her reflection for a moment and was apparently satisfied because
she tucked her lipstick back into her purse and then swiveled on her stool to
face Kate. “I dated Randall a few years ago. He's a wonderful lover, in case
you don't know that yet. And while he's interested, he's very interested, but
he always moves on.”

“I
appreciate your information, but I'm not quite sure why you're telling me
this.”

The
blonde shrugged gracefully. “You seem like the easily bruised type. I just
thought that I should warn you.” She held out her hand. “By the way, I'm Sylvia
Dupont.”

Kate
had automatically started to put her hand out but stopped abruptly.

“Sylvia
Dupont? From Washington?”

Sylvia
looked pleased. “I see that my reputation has reached even New York.”

Kate
choked back a snort. “My life has gone from soap opera to farce,” she said
under her breath. She laughed without humor. “This is rich.
Sylvia Dupont
is giving
me
advice.”

Sylvia
Dupont clearly was not accustomed to provoking laughter. She stood up. “You're
drunk.”

“No,
don't leave yet. I want to take a good look at you,” Kate said.

“Why?”

“Because
I want to get a good look at the woman my husband had an affair with.”

Sylvia's
arrogant poise slipped for a moment. Her mouth opened and closed a few times
but no sound came out. When she found her voice, it was a whisper.

“You're
David's wife.”

“I'm
David's widow.” Kate leaned back on her stool with her arms crossed and let her
eyes scan Sylvia up and down.

“But
you didn't know.”

“Obviously,
I did.”

“How?
We were so careful that you wouldn't find out until after the divorce.”

Kate
used every ounce of self-control she had to remain stone-faced at Sylvia's
statement. “You thought that he was going to divorce me and marry you? You're
kidding.”

“He
was going to marry me. We even stopped seeing each other so that he could ask
for the divorce without complications.”

Kate
was dying inside but she held her contemptuous pose, merely lifting an eyebrow.
“He had no intention of divorcing me. He wouldn't leave the boys, and he
wouldn't damage his reputation for a little piece of fun.”

“You're
wrong,” Sylvia said but she had turned almost as pale as her dress.

Kate
shrugged. “Am I? Married men always claim they're going to leave their wives.
It's part of the game. And you weren't his only girlfriend. Didn't you know
that?”

She
turned to the mirror casually, with the pretense of tucking up loose strands of
hair. She hoped Sylvia didn't notice that her hands were shaking.

Sylvia
said, “I don't believe you,” but she practically ran out the door.

Kate
sat staring unseeingly into the mirror.
David
had planned to divorce me.
She had thought his affair was the worst thing
she would have to handle.
Wrong again.
She waited for her carefully rebuilt confidence to come crashing down. To her
relief, her foundation was holding firm.

Suppose
Sylvia really loved David?
Well, now she
feels as betrayed as I did.
Kate wondered why she hadn't learned her lesson
about revenge by now. Should she feel guilty about the lies she had just made
up? The urge to give back a little pain had been irresistible.

“Plus,
she knew that he was married,” Kate pointed out to the mirror, “so she was in
the wrong from the start.” Her head was pounding. “This is getting much too
complicated for me,” she said, dropping her forehead to her hand. “I need to go
home.”

Now
she had to make her way to Oliver, who was already angry, while avoiding Sylvia
and Randall. She suspected that Sylvia would be just as interested in avoiding
her, but Randall was probably ticked off, and he would want to let her know
about it.

Kate
sighed as she arose. If only she could walk across a bed of hot coals instead.

Randall
stood alone on the dance floor for a few moments, watching Kate's back
disappear into the crowd. Then he stalked over to the RJ Enterprises table and
asked Tom's date to dance. As soon as the music ended, he escorted her back to
the table and said curt farewells to Tom and the other guests.

Tom
watched Randall cut straight through the crowd to the exit. “I'd give my year's
bonus to have heard the conversation that led up to that little scene.”

His
companion gave an exaggerated shudder. “I'd hate to have been on Kate Chilton's
side of it.”

Tom
was smiling wickedly. “I think I'm going to enjoy the Monday morning meeting. I
just have to think a bit about how best to bring up the subject.”

“You're
crazy. Leave it alone.”

Kate
stayed on the opposite side of the room as she looked for Oliver. Fortunately,
she found him quickly, talking with a couple she didn't know. She greeted them
politely and then said in a low voice, “I have a splitting headache. Would you
mind if we went home?”

“We
should have a last dance before we leave,” he said.

“I'd
rather not. I really don't feel well,” she said with complete honesty.

“I'm
sure that a dance will chase that headache away,” Oliver said as he led her
firmly toward the dance floor.

Kate
was astonished by his insistence and looked up at his face. He appeared
perfectly calm until she noticed an odd glint in his eyes and a tightness
around his mouth. As he swung her into his arms, she summoned up every
remaining ounce of her poise so that she could smile up at him and say, “You're
right, I feel better already.”

Oliver
did not relax. He spun her away from him and brought her back against him hard
and close. Kate stumbled slightly but his grasp was so tight that she had no
room to fall. She tried to open some space between them but Oliver seemed
oblivious to her attempts at loosening his hold. Kate decided that she didn't
want to provoke him any further, so she followed his lead until the music
ended.

“I
think it's time to leave,” Oliver said.

She
nodded. All she had to do was get through the drive home – which was admittedly
a daunting prospect – and then she could collapse.

Oliver
behaved like a perfect gentleman as they made their way to the door, guiding
Kate through the crowd with a light touch and stopping to exchange a word with
the acquaintances they encountered.

Outside,
he fell silent as they walked to the parking garage and got in the car for the
trip home. As the BMW glided through the night, Kate was caught up in the
mental kaleidoscope of Sylvia and David.

“I
ran into Sylvia Dupont in the Ladies' Lounge,” she said.

He
started. “I'm sorry; I didn't know she was there. I wouldn't have had that
happen for the world. How did you know who she was?”

“She
introduced herself.”

Oliver
winced. “She's a cool customer, but I wouldn't have expected that.”

“Oh,
she had no idea who I was when she did it,” Kate said with a brittle laugh. “We
were just having a casual in-front-of-the-mirror chat.”

Oliver
did not respond immediately, so Kate decided to take the plunge. Somehow the
words and the tears she had been stifling for the last hour got entangled in
her throat so that it came out on a sob. “Sylvia claimed that David was
planning to divorce me.”

Oliver
made an angry sound. “He had stopped seeing her months before he died.”

The
tears escaped down Kate's cheeks. “They did that to keep Sylvia out of the
divorce, to keep it simple.” Another sob forced its way out of her throat.

Oliver
swore. “Sylvia was just trying to upset you.”

“Maybe
David didn't mean it, but Sylvia thought he did. Did he talk with you about
it?”

“Of
course not. I'm sure that he said it just to keep Sylvia happy.”

Kate's
tears subsided as she peered at Oliver in the flickering light of street lamps
and oncoming headlights. She found that she couldn't read his face at all and
turned away in frustration. “This isn't the exit for my house! Where are we
going?”

“To
my
house. I want to talk with you
where we won't be interrupted.”

Amazed
at his insensitivity, Kate put her hand to her aching head. “Could we please
postpone this until a better time?”

“I
don't think that's a good idea,” he said, guiding the car steadily through the
streets of Hoboken and into the garage of his brownstone.

Kate
considered refusing to get out of the car, but Oliver leaned across her to open
the door, making her feel claustrophobic. She got out as fast as her voluminous
skirts would allow.

The
first floor of Oliver's home was an excellent advertisement for his design
abilities. He had gutted the interior and created an open space made
interesting by exquisite architectural details and beautiful antiques. Usually
Kate spent her first few minutes there lost in admiration at the perfection of
the proportions, but tonight she was in no mood to appreciate anything other
than a quick exit. She dropped her purse on a table by the door and stopped a
few feet into the room.

Oliver
flicked on the lights that were carefully placed to illuminate the best
features of the rooms. “Sit down, Kate,” he said, gesturing to a Biedermeier
settee.

Kate
hesitated a moment. Oliver simply stood and waited, his gaze locked on her
unwaveringly. With a resigned shrug, Kate took the seat he indicated and Oliver
sat down across from her.

“You've
been through a terrible ordeal, and I blame myself. I didn't expect Sylvia to
be at the ball; she's never come before.”

Kate
made a gesture of dismissal. “You aren't responsible for Sylvia Dupont's social
engagements. In a way, I'm glad to have met her. It makes the pain easier to
deal with because I have a flesh-and-blood human being to focus on, rather than
some nebulous image of the perfect mistress.”

“I've
always admired your strength,” Oliver said, coming around the table to sit
beside her.

Kate
inched away from him. He wasn't as physically imposing as Randall, but he was
tall, and she had felt his strength on the dance floor.

Oliver
turned to her. “Now it's my turn to be strong. Kate, I want to share your life:
to be a father to Clay and Patrick, to support you so that you can stay home
again. I'll protect you from people like Sylvia Dupont and Randall Johnson. I
want to marry you and cherish you as you deserve to be cherished.” He took both
her hands in his. “I love you. And I will never be unfaithful to you.”

When
Kate sat silent, Oliver let go of her hands and got up to pace across the room.
He turned abruptly and said, “I talked David out of asking you for a divorce.”

Kate
leaned back as though he had slapped her. “So it was true.”

Oliver
made a gesture of impatience. “David didn't know what he wanted. Sylvia had
money and a position in society that he found immensely tempting; she was a
shiny new toy for him.”

In
two strides Oliver was leaning over her, his hands braced behind her on the
back of the couch. “Let me keep all that ugliness away from you for the rest of
your life.”

Oliver's
declaration sounded stifling, and Kate desperately wanted to escape from the
prison that he had created with his arms. “Stop. I've worked hard to make
myself a new life. I've already told you I
need
time to think
,” she hissed.

Oliver's
eyes picked up a hard glint.

“You
didn't think with Randall Johnson. I saw the way you looked at him, and now
you're going to look at me the same way,” he said, grabbing her hair and
pulling her head back to kiss her hard on the mouth. Kate pushed against his
shoulders, but she had no leverage. When she tried to slide down out of his
grasp, he tightened his grip on her hair and knelt over her on the sofa,
trapping her in the fabric of her skirts. He released her mouth to slide his
lips down her arched throat to the swell of her breast. His free hand moved
down to circle her nipple through the velvet. “I've wanted to touch you for so
long.”

“Don't
do this. Don't destroy all our years of friendship –”

“We’ll
be lovers instead.”

Now
he was pushing her sideways so that she was lying against the sofa's arm and he
was crouched over her. “I know that you can love me, Kate. You're so
beautiful...”

She
tried to twist away from him but he was too heavy. Finally, she just lay still
and sobbed, unable to fight this man whom she had known and trusted for so
long.