Adversaries and Lovers (3 page)

Kate started to tell her that she no longer needed to be reminded to wash before eating, then decided against it. Grandma was in a dour mood, and Kate suspected it had to do with Henry Stassen and the old photos.

At dinner, Kate asked, "What happened at the committee meeting today?"

Grandma's eyes narrowed, and she waved her fork as she replied, "We're working on the appeal and it's coming along. We'll be ready for that bunch when the time comes. We're also planning a protest march. We're meeting on Saturday, so you plan to come."

Kate swallowed hard. "Saturday?"

"Saturday morning. About eleven."

"Eleven?"

"It's the only time we can all get together. We're meeting here."

"Here?"

Grandma slapped her fork down and stared at Kate. "What in the world’s wrong with you, girl? You're acting like an old woman, repeating everything I say."

Kate gave a nervous little laugh. Attempting to shrug off her odd behavior, she said, "I was just preoccupied. I have an appointment on Saturday to go over some advertising layouts with... umm… a new client, and I was toying with some ad ideas."

"Then change your appointment," Grandma said. "One of the reasons we set the meeting for Saturday was so you could be here."

"I'm sorry, Grandma, but this is pretty important," Kate replied. "If I thought I could change it I would. But, when I get back from my appointment, you can fill me in on what happened at the meeting and I'll be sure to read over the appeal."

"Who's the client?"

Kate looked up with a start. "The client?"

"There you go repeating again."

"Yes, well... the client is... in sporting goods and things like that." Kate looked across the table at her grandmother, who pinned her with steely gray eyes as sharp and glinting as a finely honed blade, the lethal look Grandma got when she knew Kate was up to something. Kate shifted uneasily in her chair. Confessing to her meeting with Henry Stassen's grandson wouldn't be a very good move at this point, judging from Grandma's reaction to the photos, so she prepared to ward off any further questions at this point. Thankfully, Grandma didn't press for particulars about the new client. Still, Kate had the uneasy feeling that, very soon, Grandma would piece things together. She was amazingly good at that. What bothered her more was her upcoming meeting with Ben Stassen, and the fact that she'd agreed to go with him at his place in the woods.

She visualized the leather-clad renegade at the reception, and the jock in tennis attire, and couldn’t decide which worried her more. Both were heart-stopping. Both were dangerous.

***

While the Sellwood Action Committee deliberated over relevant issues in their appeal, Kate stood beside the window where she could have full view of the street. She planned to make a hasty exit the moment Ben arrived. If the group learned who he was, the peppery seniors would not respond to him in a way that would earn his sympathy. In fact, he'd be lucky to leave with his hide. The bunch was in a surly mood.

Hearing the low throb of an engine, Kate saw a leather-clad figure on a motorcycle pull to a halt across the street. Surely he didn't expect her to ride behind him on one of those things? She compressed her lips. Of course he did, if only to irritate her. To her vexation, he maneuvered the motorcycle in a wide arc, motored across the street and stopped out front. He swung his leg over the cycle, removed his helmet, pulled off  his gloves and started toward the house. Kate eyed the gathering of seniors, who were caught up in a heated debate over phrasing in the appeal. Anxious to slip away unnoticed, she collected her portfolio with her ad ideas and crept toward the door. Her hand on the knob, she was about to open the door when her grandmother's voice cut through the boisterous chatter. "You can't leave without at least offering an opinion on this."

"I've got to go, Grandma," Kate replied. "My ride’s here." She yanked open the door, startled to find Ben standing with his arm propped on the door frame.

He eyed the length of her. "Didn't I mention we'd be going on my cycle?"

Kate glared at him. "Of course not! You knew I wouldn’t go if you had."

"Sorry, my oversight. Meanwhile, my place is about ten miles upriver, so you'd better change into something more suitable for the ride. The wind has a way of catching skirts and sending them up legs, not that I'd mind, but you might."

Kate eyed him with anoyance. "Then I'll follow you in my car."

Ben shrugged. "It better be high off the ground or it won't make it to my place."

Kate looked around at the gathering, which had fallen silent, all eyes on them. Trying to ignore the curious stares, she said in a hushed voice, "Alright, but while I change I'd appreciate it if you'd wait outside."

"Good heavens, Kate!" her grandmother called out. "Show the man in."

Kate knew Grandma wasn't being gracious. She was pressing for an explanation why her granddaughter was about to sneak off with a man who looked like a member of a motorcycle gang. "Really, Grandma, he doesn't mind waiting outside since you're having a meeting."

Ben straightened. "As a matter of fact, I could use a drink of water," he said, his eyes scanning the group. Before Kate could protest, he'd stepped inside.

Kate glared at him. It was obvious he knew something was up, but she had no intention of giving him the slightest inkling what it was. "On second thought, a little wind on my legs might feel good," she said. Ignoring his request for water, she grabbed her portfolio, nudged him outside and pulled the door shut. She headed for the motorcycle, anxious to be on their way before her grandmother could call her back.

"You'll regret not changing your clothes," Ben said.

Kate stared at the long narrow seat and pondered the physical contact its proximity implied. "The only thing I regret is that I'll be forced to sit behind you on that thing."

"It's a Harley," Ben corrected. "You seem to have a thing about my things. My office complex is a thing. My Harley's a thing. Or maybe you have a fetish with men's things."

Kate wasn't amused. "Can we just go? I'm not in the mood for verbal sparring."

Ben smiled. "Nor am I. Meanwhile, I'm responsible for my passengers, and since you need to hold onto me, I'll take this—" he grabbed the portfolio in her hands, but she held on to it, knowing it would make a barrier of sorts between them. He jerked it free, and ignoring her look of censure, packed it into a saddle bag and handed her a helmet. "Put this on and climb aboard." He donned his helmet and gloves and mounted the motorcycle.

Kate pulled on the helmet, then gathering her skirt, tucked it between her legs and straddled the seat. After arranging the skirt to cover her knees, she sat with her hands resting on her thighs.

Ben glanced over his shoulder, and said, "You'd better hang onto me."

"I'd rather not," Kate clipped.

"Suit yourself." Ben revved the engine. As the motorcycle shot forward, Kate grabbed onto him to keep from flying backwards. At once, the exotic aroma that clung to him the night of the reception drifted to her nostrils, the untamed headiness of it sending words flashing in her mind like a neon warning sign:
Dangerous Animal. Beware
. Her awareness of him had the odd effect of making her feel weak, as if the strength was draining from her arms, and she found herself gripping him tighter yet, until she could feel the play of muscles in his lean, solid torso.

A big gloved palm covered her hands. "You okay?" he asked.

Kate realized she was clinging far tighter than necessary. Lessening her hold, she replied, in an attempt to justify her impulsive move, "No, I'm not okay. Your driving's scaring the hell out of me." Which it wasn't. But she didn't want him to know.

"Funny," Ben said. "I had you pegged as an adventurous woman, and I'm usually not wrong about women."

"I'll bet," Kate quipped. But she had the uneasy feeling that before the day was done, she'd wish she did know karate. Ben was definitely a man on the prowl. But she couldn't deny that another part of her didn't want to fight him off, a thought she found increasingly troubling as the motorcycle brought them ever closer to his hideaway in the woods.

CHAPTER TWO

To Kate's dismay, her skirt began to creep up her legs, and each time she went to pull it down, the motorcycle would make a sharp turn, forcing her to abandon her efforts and grab onto  Ben. "Do you have to drive like a maniac?" she yelled into the wind.

Ben tilted his head toward her. "This your first time on a bike?"

"
Of course it's my first time
!" Kate cried. "I'm not an idiot. And this is definitely not my idea of fun."

"You'll get used to it. For now, sit back and enjoy the feel of the wind on your face—" Ben glanced down at her bare leg "—and other enchanting parts of your body."

By now Kate’s skirt had crawled up high on her thighs and there was nothing she could do about it. Having given up trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, she focused on balancing on the back of the motorcycle with a minimum contact with Ben, which was hopeless. Every time she slackened her hold, the motorcycle veered this way or that, forcing her to hang onto Ben to keep from falling off.

On the outskirts of the city, they turned onto a road that followed the winding course of the Willamette River. Cruising through Oregon’s pastoral countryside with its colorful patchwork of pastures and vineyards and fields was really quite pleasant, and although she’d never admit it to Ben, she was actually enjoying herself. With the wind whipping about her shoulders and caressing her legs, she felt as if she were one with the landscape through which they were passing, not an intruder. And Ben was a much more conservative driver than she had expected. She'd pegged him as a chance-taking, daredevil.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled the fruity aroma of vine-ripened blackberries that were growing in great abundance along the roadside. She could almost smell Grandma's berry pies bubbling in the oven. Grandma never made just one pie. She didn't want to be caught short when Frank and Dora and Thelma and the others popped in. They'd been stopping by each other's places for over fifty years now, and it galled Kate to think that it all might end because of Ben.

The exhilaration she'd felt moments before vanished, replaced by renewed anger with the man who could turn Grandma's world upside down. Releasing her hold on Ben, she rested her hands on her thighs. Whatever it took, she
would
convince him to build his office complex somewhere else. But how does one get through to a man who'd probably never experienced any misfortune, a man who went after what he wanted with a vengeance, and with no inkling as to how many lives his venture would change...

"Lean into me and hold on tight," Ben said. "We're about to leave the pavement."

Kate looked around Ben to where the main road made a sharp turn, and straight ahead, a narrow dirt road cut between tall evergreens and disappeared into the dusk of dense forest, a scene bringing to mind Red Riding Hood and the wolf. "I really don't want to—"

"Stop arguing and hold on!" The motorcycle left the pavement, and as it bounced along the uneven road, Kate found herself leaning heavily against Ben, her arms wrapped around him, her face pressed to his back. She'd been aware of a firm athletic build when she'd visited his office, but she hadn't imagined how rock-hard a body could be. Until now. But then, when a man spends his days playing tennis and riding motorcycles, a lean hard body isn't so remarkable.

The engine throbbed in a low drone as the motorcycle cruised between stately evergreens that rose from a forest floor covered in lacy ferns and tangles of lush greenery. Around a bend, they came to a clearing and rolled to a halt. "Here we are," Ben announced.

Kate raised her head from Ben's back and stared in shocked surprise at a rustic octagonal dwelling that seemed to be a living, breathing being with a character all its own. Obviously the work of a skilled craftsman. She climbed off the motorcycle and removed her helmet, and Ben doffed his helmet and gloves and stood beside her. "It's made from salvaged materials and odds and ends that came floating down the river," he explained. "The timbers are hand-hewn, and I rescued the doors and windows from demolition jobs."

"You?" Kate found it hard, if not impossible, to imagine Ben rummaging through the tumbled-down remains of old buildings while searching for scrap materials. "You must have driven your architect mad."

"On the contrary, without this project I probably would've gone mad,” Ben said, hands on his hips as he looked at his house. “I started it at a time in my life when things were... rough."

Kate looked at him, incredulous. "You built it?"

Ben nodded. "Hoisted every beam, split every shingle, drove every nail."

Kate eyed a scrap-metal artwork that was perched on top of a post. With its gas can body, and motorcycle-fender wings, and high arched neck made from the bendable spout of a gas can, it was a charming rendition of an awkward gull coming in for a landing. Another piece, a metal stick figure on a motorcycle, a work made from nuts and bolts and odd pieces of metal, and with an oil can sitting on top of the figure's head, sat off the side of the steps leading to the front entry. "And the metal art?" she asked.

"Relics from the junk yard, rearranged and welded." Ben eyed the gull and laughed. "I admit that one's a little offbeat."

Whimsical was the word that came to mind. "What about those?" She pointed to an artistic arrangement of curved windows and multi-colored glass disks set into a rock and concrete wall that made up one facade of the octagonal house.

"Old windshields and bottle bottoms," Ben said. "That's an east wall. It catches the morning sun and throws interesting patterns on the wall. Come on in and see the rest."

Determined not to be sidetracked from her goal, or to become entranced by the man and his many facets, Kate fetched her portfolio from the saddle bag and followed Ben through an arched entryway framed by natural stones that appeared to be hand-selected to fit together.