Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride (8 page)

She’d tried to make a clean break with him at the hotel, but he’d insisted on coming along to the airport. Everything he did made it clear he didn’t want to let her go.

She couldn’t deny she’d miss the pleasure he gave her. He’d made her feel like a real woman for the first time since Jeff left. But she didn’t have time for a relationship—did she?

Steve’s voice in Kathryn’s ear startled her out of her trance. “Hey, where’d you go? All of a sudden you’re a million miles away.”

She blushed. “Only a thousand. I was thinking about what I need to do when I get back to the office.”

“Bad idea. Vacation’s already too short. I won’t have you checking out early on me.” He reached over with his free hand, and she assumed he planned to cop one last feel. Instead, he took her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and gave a gentle squeeze.

The innocence of the gesture touched her. God knows Steve was a man in every possible way, but even if he hated to admit it, he still had a lot of Stevie’s sweetness. She relaxed against his chest and gave his hand an answering squeeze.

The cab pulled up in front of the airport and Kathryn and Steve climbed out. Kathryn paid the cabbie and walked to the back to collect her luggage. The cabbie lifted her bags from the trunk and set them down on the pavement.

“You travel light for a woman,” Steve said. Aside from her dive bag, all she had was a rolling bag small enough to fit into the overhead compartment of an airplane.

She felt she ought to object to the remark on grounds of sexism, but the truth was, she was proud of her ability to pack light. The girly-girls he usually traveled with would probably have needed that much space for their shoes. “I do a lot of business travel, so I’ve learned to pack efficiently.” She started to reach for her dive bag.

He grabbed her hand to stop her. “I’ll get that.”

“I can manage by myself. It’s got wheels.”

He frowned and snatched the handle. “Let me be a gentleman.”

She smiled her amusement. “If you insist.”

They walked into the terminal, stopping in front of the large ceramic mural next to the security screening entrance. To their right, passengers were lining up at the American Airlines counter. She was glad the terminal was crowded. The public setting would make this easier, keep things from getting maudlin.

“Good-bye, Steve,” she said. “This has been the best vacation of my life, thanks to you. I’ll never forget it.”

His eyebrows knit together. “That sounds suspiciously like a kiss off.”

“Nothing as harsh as a kiss-off. Just a fond good-bye.”

He glared at her. “As in, good-bye and have a nice life?”

“Good, you understand.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “No way, Kathryn. This isn’t the end; it’s just the beginning. I intend to keep seeing you in D.C.”

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Steve, you’re not being realistic. We live in very different worlds. You wouldn’t fit in with my friends, and I wouldn’t fit in with yours.”

He snorted. “Puh-leeze. If you want to blow me off, you’re going to have to give me an actual reason, not spout a bunch of dumb-ass clichés.”

She felt herself blush. “Okay, I could have put that better, but you know I’m right.”

“You’re not right, and I’ll prove it to you.”

“I don’t think...” Kathryn began.

“Yes, you do. That’s your whole problem, you think too damn much. I’m crazy about your brilliant mind, but sometimes you need to give it a rest.” He backed her against the mural, lowered his head, and kissed her, gently at first, then with increased intensity. As his tongue teased and played, heat built up and throbbed between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him. For a moment she didn’t exist as a person with a mind, only as a ball of pulsing nerve endings.

It was the kind of kiss she wished could last forever, but eventually Steve pulled away. His smile was smug. He’d obviously felt every bit of her body’s response to him.

Kathryn shook her head, disgusted with herself for her weakness. “What was that supposed to prove? That I want you? Well, that’s a no-brainer, but it doesn’t have anything to do with whether we should keep seeing each other.”

“Really? Explain that one to me.”

“Sure, we had some of the hottest sex on the planet, but you can’t build a relationship entirely on lust.”

He touched his nose to hers and spoke in a gentle tone. “You can’t dismiss me that easily. There’s more between us than lust, and you know it. We have fun together. We make each other laugh.”

She directed her gaze over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact. “Just because we screwed each other’s lights out...”

He winced at the crude remark. “Not screwed, made love.”

Her expression mocked him. “Made love? Surely you’re not saying you love me.”

A touch of color rose on his cheeks. “Maybe not yet, but we have a shot at falling crazy in love if you’ll give us a chance.”

Panic welled up in her stomach. She spat out, “Stop acting like a child.”

He smiled a slow, sexy smile. “You don’t have a logical comeback, so you’re resorting to bringing up our age difference. I must be winning.”

He was right, damn it. “Look,” she said, trying another tack, “I already told you, for the foreseeable future, I need to focus on winning the president’s job and consolidating my position. I won’t have time for a man, especially one people would think is unsuitable.”

He gave his head a small shake. “Talk, talk, talk. You’re so full of it. You’re not pushing me away because you don’t have time for me or you’re worried about what people will think. You’re pushing me away because you’re gutless.”

Her face grew warm with indignation. “Gutless? I swim with sharks, and I took on the founder’s son for control of a multi-million dollar business, and you have the nerve to call me gutless?”

“You may not be afraid of sharks, on land or in the water, but you’re scared to death of how I make you feel.”

Because in her experience, whenever she felt so much for a man, she ended up getting hurt. She didn’t want to care for her boy toy. The men she cared for had always left her, starting with her father. But she had no intention of admitting that. She pushed free of him. “Look, I have to get in line now, or I’ll miss my flight.”

He flashed her the Steve smile. “I’ll let you go catch your plane, Katie, but I won’t let you go. This isn’t over, not by a long shot.” He turned and swaggered away.

* * *

Waiting behind Murph in the line to go through the airport metal detector, Steve stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and scowled. This sucked canal water backward. How had things with Katie gone south so fast?

He normally didn’t use the tacky phrase “she needs to get laid,” but in Katie’s case it was the God’s honest truth. She’d so obviously withered up and dried out inside during her year alone. She was a whole new woman after lovemaking, softer, gentler, happiness radiating off her in waves. A woman as passionate as Katie needed to be made love to on a regular basis. Made love to, and loved, and treasured. And he was ready, willing and able to do all three. But she was afraid to let him.

Murph walked through the metal detector and Steve prepared to follow. He emptied his pockets into the container on a table, pulling out his wallet, passport, loose change, and... oh shit! Katie’s blue silk panties. He tried to snatch them back before anyone noticed.

Too late. Murph had reached over from the other side of the machine and scooped up the incriminating evidence. Murph twirled the panties around on his index finger and leered. “Taken up cross dressing, Tyler?”

Steve stepped through the detector and swiped at the panties. “Get real.”

Murph pulled the skimpy scrap of silk just out of Steve’s reach. “No, you’re not the type. These must be a war trophy. Souvenir of your big score.”

Steve snatched the panties from Murph’s hand. “Just for five seconds, could you stop being an asshole?”

An aggrieved look settled on Murph’s face. “What bug crawled up your butt? I didn’t get lucky all week. You spent the last two days in the sack, and you’re the one acting all pissy.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m in a lousy mood. She blew me off, all right?”

“What did you expect? This was a vacation hook-up, and the vacation’s over.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think we were done with each other. Especially since I found out she lives in D.C., on the Virginia side. But she shut me down cold.”

“I gotta say, that’s a surprise. Women never blow you off. What’s her problem?”

“She said I’m ‘unsuitable.’”

Murph scowled. “That’s awfully snotty. Who the hell does she think she is?”

“I’d guess she thinks she’s a hotshot business exec who could buy and sell my sorry ass ten times over, and I’m a tool.”

“How are you going to change her mind?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re encouraging me to go for it?”

“Nobody disses my wingman and gets away with it. What’s the ops plan?”

“An all-out romance blitzkrieg.” And he had a secret weapon, because there were still several items left to explore on Katie’s To-Do List.

A bell jangled as Steve pushed open the door of Joanne’s Flower Boutique and was hit by the cloying scent of the place. Operation Katie was officially underway.

There weren’t any other customers in the shop—just the salesclerk, a college-age redhead. At the sound of the bell, she looked toward the door, and her bored expression perked up. Ignoring her, he walked to the refrigeration case along the back wall and began scoping out the roses.

“How can I help you?” the redhead asked. Her tone suggested an answer that was illegal in several states. He felt a twinge of annoyance. That was the kind of guy he’d been—the kind women hit on even when he was buying flowers for another woman. And up to now, he’d probably have flirted back, accepted her phone number, maybe even called her for a date. No wonder Katie didn’t trust him.

“I want to send three dozen roses to an office out by Dulles. I need to impress a special lady.”

“Three dozen?” Her eyebrows rose, but at least she’d put a lid on the suggestive tone.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Like I said, she’s special.”

“Hmmm...”

He frowned. “What?”

“That sounds a little over the top. Though don’t tell my boss I said so.”

“Really? I don’t want to look like a dork, but I want to send her a message that I’m serious.”

“Then go with two dozen. Guys usually send a dozen, so you’ll still be making a statement.”

“Okay.”

“I assume you want red?”

“No. Red roses are a cliché, and this woman’s an original. Let’s go with yellow.”

She shook her head. “Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Yellow roses stand for friendship.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “What, there’s a code to the color of roses?” Hell, he hadn’t realized buying flowers was so complicated.

“Yes. Every color means something different.”

“How do you women come up with this stuff? Okay, forget about yellow. What are my other choices?”

“Red stands for true love, but you’ve already turned that down. And white stands for innocence, so you’d better skip that if you want to get lucky. Pink means thank you...”

“That might work.”

“Then there’s lavender which means love at first sight, and coral which stands for desire, and...”

Desire; coral, like coral reefs—score! “Coral would be perfect.”

“Two dozen coral roses it is then.”

Crossing to the counter, he pulled Katie’s business card out of his wallet. “Here’s the address. I made a card to go with the flowers,” he said, handing it to her.

The redhead began filling in an order form but paused to look up at him. “No one’s ever sent me two dozen roses. I hope this woman knows how lucky she is.”

Fat chance of that. He’d had models ready to redecorate his apartment after the second date, but he’d managed to fall for a woman who thought he was a frivolous piece of fluff. “She doesn’t yet, but she will.” His voice carried the same conviction he’d use telling his commander he was going to hit his target on the bombing range. It was true. It had to be.

* * *

The automatic doors swung open and Kathryn entered the lobby of the building housing the offices of Brubaker & Whitley, Consultants. Though she was groggy with fatigue, a feeling of comfort washed over her. She was home. This was her turf, the realm of the Ice Queen. She walked past Gallagher’s Irish Pub, its doors locked tight at this hour. Giving a nod of recognition to the guard at the reception desk, she entered a waiting elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

In her outer office, the face of Janelle, her young, blonde personal assistant, opened up like the automatic doors. “It’s good to have you back, Ms. St. John.”

Kathryn was sure the sentiment was sincere. Things went haywire at B&W when she was out of the office for any length of time. Brubaker was already half retired, and Whitley couldn’t manage his own life, much less the firm. The other members of the executive committee knew it; the staff knew it; even the clients knew it. No doubt she’d find a stack of bungled and overlooked paperwork waiting for her once she crossed the threshold of her own office. Well, bring it on. No matter how crazy things got out there in the rest of the world—and they’d gotten pretty crazy in Grand Cayman—here she was in control.

“Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

“Really? Didn’t you have a good time?” Janelle looked genuinely concerned.

Kathryn suppressed a smile. “I promise, I had a great time. Do I have any messages?” She was eager to cut off any questions about how great a time she’d had. Certain information was better kept out of the office.

Janelle rolled her eyes and handed Kathryn a stack of pink message slips. “Is the Pope Catholic? The one on the top is from your mother.”

Kathryn groaned. By the time she’d gotten home the night before, after a full day of traveling, she’d been exhausted. After unpacking, sorting through a mountain of mail and paying a blizzard of bills, she hadn’t had the energy to return her mother’s voicemail messages. An even worse slate of tasks that couldn’t wait lurked on the other side of the door, but Glenda St. John wouldn’t be put off for long. “Thanks, I guess.” She crossed into her office.