Asking For It (20 page)

It took Kate a long moment, a moment of rather stupid bafflement, to get it. "You have a girlfriend."

"It...got a little deeper than I expected," Ricky told Kate.

"She's not — ?"

"No," Ricky interrupted swiftly. "Not preg — Nothing like
that
— Just...emotionally. More involved. That kind of thing." He sounded excruciatingly embarrassed, which was probably the only thing that kept him from noticing how embarrassed Kate was. She felt her face flaming red, fortunately where Ricky couldn't see it.

She'd thought he had a thing for
her
. She'd avoided calling him for weeks on end because of this suspicion.

And all along, he'd had a girlfriend, a rather important one, if Kate was reading him correctly. "Well, that's great, Ricky," she said now, and meant it. "Congratulations."

"Congratulations?" He sounded panicked. "We aren't getting married or anything."

"No, no, no." Kate hastened to reassure him. "It's just — I'm glad you're involved with someone. I think that's good. It's healthy. It's exactly what you
should
be doing." She blinked, suddenly hearing her own words.

Meanwhile, Ricky's panic took on a wry edge. "You think? 'Cause I have yet to figure out how to organize my life with this. It's damn time-consuming!"

"
Darn
time-consuming," Kate corrected, and laughed.

After a slight hesitation, Ricky laughed, too. But Kate was still hearing her own words to Ricky.
It's good. It's healthy
. They hadn't been empty phrases, she meant them. People were meant to be involved in relationships.

Everyone else was meant for it, that was. Not her. For eleven years she'd avoided anything even approximating a romantic relationship. She'd been afraid there was something wrong with her, something that judged wrongly. Dangerously. For crying out loud, the man she'd loved had turned out to be a thief. And he'd made her brother into one, too. That could frighten off anybody from romance.

...But was such fear
healthy
?

A shiver passed up through the tips of her hair.

"...so that's why I'm a little behind in clearing up all the paperwork for your permits," Ricky was saying. How long he'd been talking, Kate had no idea. She felt cold and hot by turns, slightly panicked. Was now the time to question her attitude and behavior of the past eleven years? No. She didn't want to...keep an open mind.

Kate gulped at her own cowardice.

"But I promise," Ricky went on. "One way or another, you'll have those permits in hand by October." Now he sounded like the Ricky Kate had known as a camper, do-or-die, almost frighteningly resolved.

"It's okay, Ricky. I believe you." Kate determinedly turned her attention to the matter at hand. "Please, don't feel bad if I drop to the bottom of your list. Beggars can't be choosers."

"You're no beggar," Ricky said, in the same purposeful voice. "And I won't let down Camp Wild Hills."

"I know that, Ricky. And I appreciate everything you are doing and
will
do." Kate felt like she was reassuring the fourteen-year-old Ricky again. "Please, just relax. Enjoy your girlfriend."

"I'll line up contractors for you, get this on the fast-track," Ricky continued, as if he hadn't heard a word. "You'll find you won't really lose any time at all."

Kate rolled her eyes. It was going to be easier, she realized, to give in. "You do that," she told him. "And I'm sure you're right. With you looking through all the contracts beforehand, it'll save a bunch of time."

"Right," Ricky said. "Anything else?"

Kate actually paused. As if Ricky could help her figure out her sudden question about relationships. "No," she finally told him. "There's nothing else."

But she sat in her office a good fifteen minutes after bidding Ricky good-bye, staring at the wall and wondering.

Was it possible...Griffith had been right? Had the kiss
not
been a mistake?

Kate closed her eyes. Ridiculous. Absurd. A relationship with Mr. Moneybags? Or even a kiss? Out of the question.

But the hot and cold attacked her again, mocking.

Coward
. It was only a coward who couldn't at least keep an open mind.

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. Maybe,
maybe
she should keep an open mind.

But that was only a
maybe
.

~~~

After breakfast, Griffith managed to slip back to the bunkhouse long enough to find a suitable hiding place for the box of Trojans that had been burning a whole in his thigh. He ended up wrapping them in a cloth that he stuck deep into the drugstore shaving kit Arnie had given him.

It was ridiculous to imagine he would use them. They were just in case.

Yeah, just in case he went completely out of his mind.

But, God help him, Griffith thought about that little box sitting deep in his dime store shaving kit all morning. His task with the boys was to dig up potatoes, and the poor, innocent tubers took lascivious life in his imagination, sprouting round breasts, female thighs, and lush buttocks.

Never,
never
, had Griffith's lust gotten away with him. His passion was reserved for the accomplishment of goals: constructing his first office building, financing his next two, and the steady gains in his investment account.

But that Thursday all Griffith could think about was sex.

The thoughts multiplied exponentially when he ran into Kate during the swimming hour, right before lunch. Clad in a pair of soft, clinging jeans and a loose sleeveless blouse, she looked as cool as a cucumber, even surrounded by fifty-five half-naked males.

Somehow, Kate had arranged matters that every counselor except for herself had to get into the pool. The unheated pool. Griffith had often maintained there was something to be said for being the boss.

That morning she lounged on one of the garage sale recliners set on the pool deck, surveying the swimming lesson with a smug smile.

From his position shivering in the unheated pool, where he was supervising the attempts of his nine-year-olds to execute the backstroke, Griffith probably should have felt pissed. Four days ago, he
would
have been pissed. Today he could only think of how Kate would look, in the same reclined position, but without any clothes on.

Damn Arnie for giving him those condoms.

"Good going, Asher," Griffith told the kid. "Now all of you practice on your own. All the way down to the end and back." Griffith spared a brief glance to make sure all his boys were doing the program, then glided over to the side of the pool, near Kate.

She didn't pretend not to see him, like she had during breakfast. No, now she regarded him directly, and with an intensity that was disconcerting.

He figured the chance there was any sexual interest of her own in the regard was only about ten percent, but Griffith still felt hot.

"Hey," he said.

Her intensity immediately switched off, her expression becoming...shy? "Griffith," she replied, and bit her lower lip. Kate shy? Nervous, maybe? Was it
possible
?

Feeling a little crazy, he splashed water across the concrete between them. "Why is it," he asked, "we never get to see you in a swimsuit?"

She released her lower lip with a laugh. A light,
fun
laugh. The laugh caught Griffith right in the throat.

"There has to be some compensation for the headache of running this place," she told him, her eyes sparkling.

"But you
own
one?" Griffith persisted. Foolishly. It was torture to imagine Kate in a one-piece, high-cut Lycra swimsuit, hot pink, and showing every female curve. But she was being...almost receptive to him.

Arching her brows, Kate crossed one ankle over the other. "I own one."

Hot. In the frigid water of the pool, Griffith started steaming. "Tell me," he said, low. "One piece, or two?"

She gave him a slow, smug smile. "Does it matter? You'll never see it."

A minute ago he would have agreed with this assessment, but just now, with the way she was looking at him, kinda flirtatious almost, he thought he might have a chance.

"Never say never," he retorted, having learned this was one of her favorite catch phrases with the kids.

She laughed. Again! What a feeling of triumph that gave, to make Kate laugh! Her eyes sparkled warmly as they settled back on him. Last night had been mellow, intimate. This was light and fun, but Griffith felt the same pull between them.

"I got here too late to see," she said. "What are
you
wearing?"

Griffith raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I'm not wearing anything."

Heat flashed in her eyes. Briefly. So briefly he might have imagined it, but he was pretty sure he wasn't imagining it. In fact, he thought
she
might be imagining it: him buck naked.

Oh, boy. Griffith would not have thought the feat possible, not in the water, not in the
cold
water, but he started to go hard. Hell's bells. He couldn't get an erection now, in the midst of fifty children. Fortunately, he was well concealed by the water, and the thing couldn't last long. It
was
cold.

"Don't be ridiculous." Kate's tone was back to normal, maybe even a little sharp. Her gaze flicked past him. "Your team is almost done with the backstroke." She was coming back to her senses, apparently.

Griffith wasn't ready to come back to his senses. Those condoms were now burning a hole in his dime store shaving kit. He could feel the fire from here.

"Tonight," he said, then heaved himself up onto the side of the pool.

"What?" Looking alarmed, Kate cut her gaze over to him. Her eyes widened and her back pressed against her recliner as he stalked up to her.

But her gaze roamed all the way up his wet legs, past the boxers that were barely hanging onto his hips, and up his naked, streaming chest. Her gaze did not retreat.

For the sake of modesty, Griffith was relieved his impression of an erection had been illusion. For the sake of the dazed look in Kate's eyes as they finally met his, he was sorry he couldn't have provided that eye candy for her benefit. As he stood dripping by her side, her gaze told him she might be shy or otherwise reluctant, but she was also every bit as hungry as he.

"There's an oak tree." He pitched his voice so only she could hear. "It's a big one, in the tomato field. Tonight, one hour after lights out. Meet me there."

Kate's eyes were still very wide. She said nothing in reply, but Griffith knew she'd heard him. Her shirt made rapid huffing movements. The urge to take her in his arms and convince her to meet him was nearly overpowering. Ha. As if he could convince Kate Darby of anything, least of all to be with
him
. All the same —

"Tonight. One hour after lights out," Griffith repeated.

She looked past him, but her shirt was still puffing up and down. "Your kids are waiting." Evading an answer. But not telling him to go to hell.

Not out loud, anyway. Just with every nonverbal clue Griffith had ever learned — through extensive experience — to interpret.

"I'll be there," Griffith promised anyway, as if she'd care. Then he turned and strode back to his waiting, shivering campers. Yes, he would be there at the big oak tree, precisely one hour after lights out. Idiotically, perhaps. In vain, most probably. But he'd be there.

Just in case.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The engine of Ricky's '02 Mustang was a steady roar as he plowed at seventy-five miles an hour down the freeway out of downtown. Traffic was not a problem at eleven on a Thursday evening.

No, the problems were not outside, on the artificially-lit streets. All of Ricky's problems were squarely inside his swift, sound-proofed car. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and hummed along with the soft jazz station he'd turned on, but the problems didn't go away.

That morning he'd told Kate that he could get her building permits by October. He hadn't said a word about her new landlord, Blaine Development, or their plans for her water.

Oddly, Ricky's lies about the permits didn't bother him. What bothered him was the other lie he'd told, the one about Deirdre.

It
was
a lie. He was not deeply involved with Deirdre. There was no big thing going on between them.

Ricky puffed the air from his cheeks and veered his car onto the Silver Lake off-ramp. He knew he couldn't be deeply involved with Deirdre because of the intent behind a certain phone call he'd made that afternoon. He'd called GoldFed Financial, the name he'd seen in the loan agreement on Deirdre's computer monitor. Pretending to be an investor, he'd alerted the bank to ask some pertinent questions about water delivery to the Wildwood housing site. These were questions Ricky was certain only Griffith could answer. Only Griffith knew the real deal regarding the water. And Griffith, Ricky now knew via Deirdre, was AWOL.

The bank would call Blaine Development with their questions, questions nobody there would be able to answer. Hopefully, suspicions would be aroused. Hopefully, enough suspicion would be aroused to kill the whole deal.