Home for Love (5 page)

"Don't worry. I'll come by tonight and have a talk with her."

"You promise, Kate?"

"I promise. Now, we'd both better get busy. I'm going straight up to McClary Hill."

Even working at the house did not help Kate, however. Her sense of contentment was gone, replaced by a restless unease. The atmosphere was still charged after the way Steven had kissed her last night. By the time she had to leave for her appointment with him, Kate's insides had twisted into one big, apprehensive knot.

Lendal's Restaurant, located deep among the skyscrapers of the financial district, was famous for the high-powered business deals transacted over its tables. The decor had been borrowed from San Francisco's late-nineteenth century Bonanza era. Kate glanced around at the mirrors framed in gilt, the walls covered in maroon satin, the lush ferns cascading from marble pedestals. All the patrons, men and women, wore somber business suits. Kate nonchalantly straightened the collar of her brightly flowered shirt and tucked one hand into the pocket of her corduroy jeans, clutching her briefcase with the other. She felt out of place here, but she certainly wasn't going to show it.

Then she saw Steven. He was just rising from a table in a leather-upholstered booth, shaking hands with two men outfitted in drab suits. But there was nothing drab about Steven. His tweed jacket had a casual flair, and his vigorous good looks hinted at the untamed. As the two men walked away, Steven turned to scan the restaurant. His eyes locked with Kate's, and suddenly she seemed to have forgotten how to walk across a room. Steven wasn't any help; he just stood there, looking at her intently without smiling or even nodding an acknowledgment. At last Kate was able to put one foot in front of the other, propelling herself toward him.

"Hello, Steven," she said as breezily as possible.

"Thank you for coming, Kate," he answered, his tone formal. "I had a business meeting here, and thought it might be a good idea if you and I met here, as well—on neutral ground." Steven stood beside her as she slid into the booth, his hand brushing her shoulder. Kate was left with a warm, tingling sensation.

Steven sat down across from her. "Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked, the gravity of his expression relaxing slightly as he watched her.

"I'll have a cranberry juice, thank you, with a slice of orange."

Steven's expression relaxed still further, almost into a smile, and he ordered two cranberry juices with orange slices. Kate pulled her notepad from her briefcase, ready with her pen. But Steven leaned back against the rich leather of his seat, apparently in no hurry to explain the purpose of the meeting. Kate found herself gazing at his generous, expressive mouth, her body remembering that kiss.

"I bought something for the house on my way over here today," Steven said.

"Oh?" Kate answered distractedly, hanging on to her notepad.

"Yes. I'd like to show it to you." He produced a roll of paper from the seat beside him and spread it out on the table in front of Kate.

It was a print of Monet's
Red Boats at Argenteuil
. She contemplated the subtle, shimmering contrasts of water and sky, the sailboats heading lazily out from the wharves. After a long moment she looked up and gave Steven a beneficent smile. The knot inside her was slowly beginning to unravel.

"This is wonderful. I can have it framed—and I think one of the upstairs rooms would be perfect for it."

"Good," he said, rolling it up again.

"I didn't know you were interested in art."

"Why does that surprise you?" he asked.

"I don't know. The problem is, I don't really know you at all." She found herself gazing at his mouth again, and had to avert her eyes. "I mean, I do try to have an idea of my clients' personalities. The house should reflect
you
…" Kate paused, forehead wrinkled in perplexity.

"I'm glad you find the idea so appealing," he said dryly.

"You don't understand. It's just that I don't have you figured out yet. Are you the mayonnaise-on-the-walls type, or Monet-on-the-walls?"

He gave her a slow grin. "Maybe I'm both. Maybe people aren't as easy to catalog as wallpaper samples."

"I'm not trying to
catalog
you," she protested. "I'm just trying to do my job. And I can't do it if you won't give me at least a little insight about yourself. Why don't you tell me about your taste in art?"

"Good Lord, that's not something you just spit out for social conversation. Show me a painting. I'll tell you if I like it."

Why did everything have to be so difficult with this man? She tried again. "Well, you must know if you hate abstract art, or if impressionism is your favorite, or baroque…"

"I'm open to anything."

Kate drew a jagged little line across her pad. First he wanted plain white walls, now he was "open to anything!"

"All right," she said. "Let's narrow that down a bit. What sort of house did you grow up in? What did you like about it? What didn't you like?"

He settled back with a frosted glass of cranberry juice, his gray eyes enigmatic. But at last he began, "It was a big, rambling, drafty old house in Vermont. Ever been to Vermont?"

"No…"

"I think you'd like it. The mountains, all that snow. We used to go sledding every winter, straight down the hill from our back door."

"We? How many of you?"

"Four brothers and my sister, Allie."

"I come from a big family, myself!" Kate exclaimed. "With me it's three sisters and three brothers. I'm sandwiched right in the middle. How about you?"

"Tail end of the bunch, except for Allie."

"That poor girl," Kate murmured. "Five big brothers to torment her!"

"You know the territory, I see."

"You'd better believe it," she said. "Never being able to use the bathroom when you want to. Your sisters always wearing your favorite clothes."

"How about four brothers beating up on you at once?" he asked. "Driving the old Chevy that was good enough for them, so why shouldn't it be good enough for you?"

Kate nodded, laughing. "Never having your own room or a private conversation on the phone. Oh, and those awful trips to the grocery store—buying everything in the jumbo size."

"I know. Trying to pretend you don't belong to that crazed-looking lady who has three carts lined up at the checkout stand."

They were both laughing now, so hard that they drew stares from other booths. Kate's sides began to hurt. She wiped her eyes with the big red-and-green bandanna she'd pulled from one of her pockets. She blinked down at it.

"I forgot to give this back to you, and now I've used it again."

"Keep it," Steven said. "You can give it back… whenever."

"Thanks."

There was suddenly a silence between them, strained and uncomfortable. Kate sipped her juice, but couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Why did you decide to be an interior designer?" Steven asked.

"It's something I've always wanted, I suppose. Even when I was five years old—can you believe it? The rest of my family… well, my mother just didn't have time to make our home pretty. I was the one trying to figure out how to hang the curtains better, or how to hide that awful spot on the carpet." She stopped, hesitant to reveal too much about herself. "So…why did you decide to become a lawyer?" she countered.

He gazed at her thoughtfully, taking a moment to answer.

"I wasn't like you—knowing what I wanted from the very beginning. I was a pretty wild kid, I guess. Studying law gave a direction to my life I'd never had before." He propped his elbows on the table; now he seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. "I saw a way to change things, to make a difference. But it's been too easy to get caught up with the business side of it all. The past few days I've been thinking about reordering my priorities. When I wrap things up in San Francisco, maybe I can get back to the grass-roots level. That's where the excitement is."

Kate listened to the enthusiasm in his voice. She wanted to ask him more about his plans, but she didn't like the part about wrapping things up here. Her reaction was disturbing. She ought to feel relieved that he might be leaving.

"I'll probably send you off to sleep with all this talk," he said gruffly.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "It's not that. It's just… I'm the one taking your time." She dropped her notepad back into her briefcase, trying to act as businesslike as possible. "You probably have another meeting to go to. Mrs. Adler said you were very busy—"

"Kate, you know we have to talk about it. Our kiss last night." He said the words so matter-of-factly. Kate stiffened.

"Really, Steven, there's nothing to talk about. Not a thing." She clutched her briefcase.

"I think there is." He ran a hand over the veneer of the tabletop. "I wanted to apologize for what happened. It was…a mistake. I think we both realize that."

Kate nibbled her lip. He didn't have to be
quite
so apologetic. But he was right; she did agree that the whole thing had been a mistake.

"I'm sure it won't happen again," she said. "It was unprofessional, to say the least."

"I'm glad you see it the same way," he remarked.

"Well, it's never a good idea to get involved with a business associate." Kate relaxed her hold on the brief-case. "Besides, I enjoy my life just the way it is. I'm not looking to get involved with anyone. I'm a very independent person."

"So I've noticed," he said wryly.

"A woman has to be," she declared. "Take my mother, for instance. She adored my father, but he was so domineering. He tried to manage her, just like she was one of the kids. Even now she can't see what he did to her."

"I take it he couldn't manage
you
too well."

"We had our differences," Kate admitted. "But he did care for me. I remember him staying up late one Christmas Eve to finish building a dollhouse, which became very special to me. I still have it, in fact, stored away in my closet."

Steven smiled at her. She felt a pleasurable warmth seeping through her. She liked being able to speak so frankly with him.

"So…I didn't want you to have any bad feelings about last night," he said.

"Oh, I don't. Not anymore. I'm glad we cleared the air. I really am."

"It won't happen again."

"No. Of course not."

They gazed at each other. Steven's eyes looked almost blue now, very clear and deep. Kate glanced hurriedly at her watch.

"Um, I think I'd better be going now," she said.

Both of them stood up at the same time. Steven paid the tab and escorted Kate outside. He started hailing a taxi.

"Don't you have your car?" Kate asked.

"In the shop for maintenance."

Kate shrugged. Her own car only went into the shop for emergency repairs, never anything so prosaic as maintenance. She waved the taxi on.

"I'm giving you a ride," she announced. "No, don't argue with me. Anywhere you'd like to go." She was feeling very kind toward him now that everything was straightened out between them.

"Actually, I have to go back up to the house," Steven told her. "I'm due at a fund-raiser tonight, and one of my clients is sending someone to pick me up." He rubbed his neck. "I'm not looking forward to it, but
I
have to keep my clients happy."

"That's what I always say," Kate remarked blandly. She opened the passenger door of the Bug with a flourish. "Here you are."

Steven peered doubtfully inside.

"You've got to be kidding," he said.

Kate reached over and dumped all her rolls of wallpaper into the back seat, on top of the boxes of tiles. She couldn't see out the rear window anymore, but she was good at using her intuition.

"I'll take that flowerpot so you'll have a place to put your feet. All clear!"

Steven still looked doubtful, but he folded his rangy frame into the car beside Kate, his knees poking up at odd angles. She stared straight ahead, aware of how close she was to one of his broad shoulders. As she pulled out into traffic, a gauze scarf she'd misplaced drifted down from the piles in the back seat. It settled on Steven's shoulder like an indolent butterfly. Kate tried to pluck it away from him, but he got to it first. He weaved the golden cloth through his fingers.

"This reminds me of you," he murmured. "Bright and elusive. You're a mystery to me, Kate Melrose."

She didn't know how to answer that. He reached over and draped the scarf around her neck. His hands were so careful of her, withdrawing even as Kate wished for more of their touch. The scarf lay cool against the heated skin of her throat.

She was very glad to deliver Steven at his doorstep. He unfolded himself and climbed out of the car, while she sat for a minute trying to regain a professional demeanor. Fortunately all her workers had left right on schedule, so Steven would have the house to himself. But he seemed to be in a generous mood as he came around and leaned in her window.

"I'm going to help you unload your car before your shocks give out," he said. "And since I'll be gone tonight, I won't mind if you stay and wreak some havoc on the house."

"Why, thank you, Steven. Just wait—you're going to be pleased with the end result of all this, I promise." Now Kate felt a sense of camaraderie with Steven as the two of them lugged boxes into the storage room behind the kitchen. After that task was finished he went upstairs and Kate decided to tackle the awkward section of wallpapering in the hall. She'd chosen a pattern of viand couldn't wait to see what it would look like.

The noise of the shower running carried down to her as she puttered about. It was far too intimate a sound, and Kate tried to blank it from her mind. She clambered up on the stepladder. The darn thing just wasn't tall enough; she had to stretch up on the very tips of her toes in order to reach any corners.

When Steven came downstairs, he was dressed in a tuxedo, which emphasized his dark hair, the clean lines of his features. The jacket was cut perfectly to the breadth of his shoulders. Kate found herself gaping at him. Before she knew it, she had teetered too far on the edge of the ladder. She came crashing down, helplessly raking her fingers against the plaster for a hold.