Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride (9 page)

The corner office was large and airy. Amanda had done the decorating, mostly honoring Kathryn’s preference for a clean, impersonal look of chrome and glass, but insisting on a few splashes of color in bold jewel tones. Kathryn ignored the twentieth floor view and went straight to her computer to pull up her e-mail. 571 messages. It was going to be a long day, especially since her body still wanted to operate on island time. She did triage on her e-mail, deleting spam and checking messages from clients, managers and employees in that order. She’d leave the personal messages for later in the week.

Midway through her first response, her handbag buzzed. She dove under her desk, dragged up the bag, and dug out her cell phone. By the time she had the instrument in her hand, the ring tone had stopped. She checked the caller ID. Mother. Muttering a curse, she went back to her e-mail.

Within seconds, her intercom buzzed. She considered pretending to be out but decided that wouldn’t be fair to Janelle. Kathryn didn’t pay the girl enough to deal with Glenda St. John on a mission. Besides, it wouldn’t work; her mother would keep calling until she got through and got her pound of flesh. Kathryn might as well get it over with. She punched the button for her private line. “Hello, Mother.”

“Kathryn, you’re in. You didn’t return my calls, so I thought surely you must be in a meeting.”

Kathryn willed herself to take steady breaths and keep her tone neutral. “I got your messages and your e-mails. I was going to call you as soon as I took care of the Monday morning work emergencies. Things pile up when I’m on vacation.”

“I know you were on vacation, but you were supposed to get home last night, so when you didn’t call, I was worried. You should show some consideration for your old mother.” The woman’s martyred tone would have done Joan of Arc proud.

“I got in late, so I thought it would be more considerate not to call and wake you.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Kathryn Ann. I don’t care if you’re some sort of high muckety-muck at the office. I went through twenty hours of labor to bring you into the world, and I deserve respect.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just thought it would be better to talk to you later, when I could give you my full attention.”

“As usual, your priorities are all wrong. Family should come first. If you realized that, by now you’d have a husband and children of your own.”

The words
instead of being a dried up old maid
were left unsaid, but Kathryn heard them anyway. There was no way she had the time or the energy to deal with these histrionics right now. She mouthed a silent scream before answering, “Look, Mom, I have to run to a staff meeting. I promise, I’ll call you later and tell you all about my trip.”

She’d barely turned back to her computer when the intercom buzzed again. She jerked the receiver off the hook. “What is it that can’t wait until I’ve had my coffee?”

“Your coffee’s on its way up. And Phillips is here.” Janelle’s voice carried the soothing tone of someone trying to calm a cranky four-year-old.

Oh shit. Phillips was B&W’s chief accountant. This couldn’t be good. “Is he in a tizzy?”

“Definitely.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“Eleven.”

“Show him in,” Kathryn said, her voice resigned. Yup, it was going to be a long day all right. Where the hell was her coffee?

* * *

Kathryn wanted to scream. She hadn’t even made it to lunch, and already her plan for the day was shot full of holes. Her slim hope of getting home at a reasonable hour had evaporated. She could forget about a relaxing soak in a hot bath with a glass of white zinfandel.

Just as well. Travel fatigue was kicking her ass worse than usual. The way she was dragging, she’d probably fall asleep in the tub and drown.

Janelle’s head appeared around the edge of Kathryn’s door. The younger woman’s eyes were giant black marbles. “You have a delivery, Ms. St. John. Oh my God, do you have a delivery.”

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. What had the girl in such a state?

Janelle walked into Kathryn’s office and deposited an outlandishly large vase of pinkish-orangish roses on her desk. Kathryn opened the tiny florist’s envelope and took out the card. On it was a photo of a pair of angelfish with the message, “Later, Katie... XXX, Steve.”

“Who’s Steve?”

Kathryn jerked her head up. “You read the card?”

“I thought they were from a client and you’d want me to send a thank you note.”

No trace of guile showed on Janelle’s face. The girl didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed. She wasn’t lying. She’d honestly believed this jungle’s worth of flora was a business gift. It had finally come to this—everyone assumed she had no personal life.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Because you’ll thank him in person, ‘later’?”

Did Steve plan to drop by? So much for avoiding office gossip. Her visitors didn’t usually look like underwear models. No doubt the flowers had already fired up the rumor mill; a Steve sighting would send it into overdrive.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you had a great vacation,” Janelle continued, nakedly curious.

Kathryn tried to look as if the flowers were no big deal, which was difficult, since just the thought of Steve made her nipples pucker and her heart race as if it might pound out of her chest. “It’s not like that. He’s an old family friend.”

“Riiight.”

Kathryn rested one hand on her hip and jutted her chin out. “What?”

“A friend who sends you about a gazillion roses?”

Kathryn scowled. “Don’t you have something to do? If not, I must be paying you too much.”

“Message received.” Her assistant smiled and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Kathryn held a flower to her nose, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. The roses were lovely, and there were so many of them. The florist’s bill must have taken quite a dent out of a Second Lieutenant’s paycheck. Apparently Steve had meant business when he said he wouldn’t let her go without a fight.

Returning to her desk, Kathryn tried to turn her attention to other paperwork, but she couldn’t concentrate. She kept getting distracted by the fragrance of the flowers. And to be honest, by thoughts of the flower-sender. She imagined him coming up behind her and kissing her neck, his breath warm in her ear as he whispered words of comfort, his powerful hands massaging the knots out of her shoulders, then sliding lower...

Oh for God’s sake, what was wrong with her? She was acting like a teenager, letting her hormones take over her brain. Steve had that effect on her. She’d played with fire when she seduced him, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d get burned.

* * *

Six thirty. Only a few stragglers seemed to be left in Kathryn’s building, judging by the mere trickle of people coming out of the elevators as Steve arrived. Going against the flow, he let the elevator deposit him a few feet from Kathryn’s outer office, where to his surprise, a young blonde still sat behind the desk. Must be Kathryn’s personal assistant. It couldn’t hurt to get on her good side. He gave her his most brilliant smile. “Is Kathryn in?”

She blushed under the heat of his smile and stared at him with unabashed curiosity. “Su... sure. Are you Steve?”

“Yes, ma’am.” So Kathryn had told her to expect him. That was a good sign.

Continuing to stare at him, the woman pressed the intercom button. “You have a visitor, Ms. St. John,” then a pause, then “No, it’s the flower guy.” After another pause, she turned her attention back to him. “Let me show you in.”

They entered Kathryn’s office, and he nearly shivered. The place was cold with a capital C. All metal and glass, very little color, and no clutter. The white leather sofa looked so stiff and uncomfortable, he couldn’t imagine making love on it. Even to Katie.

Kathryn herself, dressed in a forest green wool business suit and white silk blouse, looked just as cool. So businesslike, so calm, so unaffected by his presence. She rose from her desk chair and looked at her assistant. “You can go now, Janelle. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Ms. St. John. Have a nice evening.” Janelle smirked and left, closing the door behind her.

In the awkward moment that followed Janelle’s departure, Steve noticed a framed poster on the near wall. He did a double take. “Wonder Woman?”

Kathryn blushed. He was grateful for this small sign that she was human. “It was a gift. My team gave it to me after we made the final delivery on the Madison project, the contract from hell.”

He looked from the poster to her and back. “You do look a little like Lynda Carter. You’d look great in that outfit. Or out of it. We should get you one. Think of the games we could play.”

She ignored his comment and fixed him with a direct stare. “The roses are beautiful, Steve, but you should have left well enough alone.”

He walked over to her, took her hands in his, and scanned her face. Now he understood how it was possible for people to think of her as icy. Her heavy makeup, though tastefully applied, seemed like armor designed to hold people at a distance. And he hated the way her hair was pulled back in that twist. He frowned. “You look different.”

“I warned you the person you met in the islands wasn’t the real me.”

“We’ll see.” If he didn’t do something to melt this deep freeze, and do it fast, he was going to crash and burn. Letting go of her hands, he reached behind her head and unsnapped her hair clip. Her thick dark brown curls tumbled down. He dropped the clip to the floor and spread her hair across her shoulders. Then he grinned. “That’s more like my Katie. Much better.”

She took a step back, and he had to resist the impulse to laugh at her shocked expression.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t just walk in here and start—”

“Start what? All I did was let down your hair. It’s not like I took off your blouse.”

The way her breath caught and the flush that crept up her cheeks told him she liked the idea. He gave her his best seductive smile. “Although I can if you want me to.”

“Stop it! This is my place of business.”

“Yes, and it’s after six, so I suggest we get the hell out of your place of business and go somewhere we can talk.”

She gave him an intense look. “Talk?”

“Talk, relax, see where things go from there.”

She turned away from him. “I can’t leave. I have hours of work left. I’ve been on vacation, remember?”

“How could I forget? But you still have to eat. Come grab a bite with me, and then if you insist, you can go back to the office.”

“Hmmm...” He saw the wheels turning in her head. “You’re not going away until I say yes, are you?”

“No.”

She shrugged. “All right, I’ll have dinner with you. But I need to make some phone calls to the west coast first. There’s an Irish pub in the lobby. Wait for me there. I’ll be down in about an hour.”

“What if I can’t wait that long?”

She scowled. “There are always plenty of good-looking women in Gallagher’s. You’ll have no trouble finding a substitute.”

He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head, forcing her to look at his face. “Yes, I would. No one could replace you. But I’m glad you’re jealous.”

She glared at him. “What do you mean, jealous? I’m not the least bit jealous. It’s none of my business who you... hang out with.”

He could read her face like a neon sign. She hadn’t been thinking “hang out with,” she’d been thinking “sleep with.” He had her flustered and jealous and burning for him. Operation Katie was off to a kick-ass start.

He slid his hand to her neck and felt her pulse thumping. “Sure it is. Show a little ownership. I like it.”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s to understand? I told you right up front what I want.”

She tossed her head back. “Get out of here. I can’t leave until I take care of a few things, and I can’t take care of anything with you distracting me.”

“Not so fast. I want a security deposit.”

“Security deposit?”

He took her face between his hands and teased her with a gentle kiss. His tongue traced her lips but didn’t plunge in. He wanted to entice, not satisfy. She pressed her body against him and tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away. “You have an hour, not one minute more.”

* * *

Kathryn watched Steve disappear into the hallway and let out a moan of frustration. She had to be crazy for letting that fine hunk leave.

No, she shouldn’t have let him in to begin with. Now he had her hormones all revved up and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on business for the rest of the evening.

Then again, the freaking e-mails would wait—he might not.

But it would be better if he didn’t. She hoped he’d go home. He was supposed to be her temporary vacation boy toy, not a permanent fixture in her life. It wouldn’t make sense to let what was happening between them go any farther. He was all wrong for her.

Oh hell, who did she think she was kidding? She was a total fraud. At that moment what she wanted more than anything in the world was to be on the white couch with Steve crossing another fantasy off her To-Do List. Whether or not it made sense, she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to stick his hand down her bra and go from there.

Kathryn’s hand drifted to the breast of her suit jacket. Underneath, her tightened nipples ached to be touched. She sighed. Sometimes being a good girl was a pain—literally.

Kathryn stuck her head in Gallagher’s to check out the lay of the land. Her work wasn’t done, but she was too tired to be productive. Besides, how was she supposed to concentrate on business logistics when her body was humming with sexual frustration?

After scanning the room for a few seconds, she spotted Steve at the dartboard. His back was to her, but there was no mistaking that big blond frame. She’d have loved to sneak up behind him, wrap her arms around his waist, and bite his neck, but that was out of the question in such a public setting, especially with a couple of the junior people from B&W at the bar next to him. It wouldn’t do to let them catch her acting like an undignified twit.