Just Between Friends (O'Rourke Family 4) (12 page)

More silence greeted him, and he put a reluctant hand on her bedroom door. Lately Kate had become
withdrawn and quiet, and her eyes haunted him at the oddest moments. He wondered if she regretted the impulsive decision that had tied them together for a year, yet her response to their lovemaking became more passionate every night.

Just thinking about
how
passionate gave Dylan trouble breathing.

The bedroom was lit only by tree-dappled light from the window, and he saw Kate lying on the bed, her left hand stretched out, palm up. She slept that way. Sometimes he peeked in, long after leaving her, and she would have turned over on her side and stretched out an arm.

“Katydid,” he whispered, his throat aching with suppressed emotion. He hated seeing her so solemn and pale. She’d always been the sparkle in his life, a beautiful, joyous creature who made him laugh, even when he was a too-serious boy, conscious of his hand-me-down clothing.

Had she realized he had never been anything special? Did she regret them becoming intimate? The thought was a knife cutting into his heart.

Dylan pulled a blanket over Kate, careful not to disturb her. He would have to spend more nights at the office; it was the only way he could keep his hands off her. It would be best for both of them.

Except he didn’t want to stay away—not now, not ever. But how could he tell Kate? They had an agreement.

One year.

“Y
ou don’t look like you’re getting any sleep,” teased Shannon at Sunday dinner. “You must be doing a lot of honeymooning.”

Kate smiled obediently.

She
wasn’t
getting any sleep.

Dylan hadn’t been home for several nights in a row, though he’d finally returned Friday evening. Once again he didn’t offer an explanation, and this time she didn’t ask because she was angry.

Mostly angry.

In all honesty she didn’t have any right to ask. Becoming intimate hadn’t given her any claim to Dylan’s life.

“Actually, Kate’s been working herself sick on the hospital board,” Dylan said. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer on the couch. “Because of her there’s going to be a new children’s orthopedic clinic.”

He sounded so proud that Kate searched his face, trying to discover if he was putting on an act for the benefit of his family or if he really thought she had done a good job.

“I’m just a small part of making it happen,” she murmured.

“Don’t believe her,” Dylan declared. “Kate is amazing.”

The O’Rourkes smiled happily, though Pegeen’s gaze seemed to linger longer than necessary on her son and newest daughter-in-law. She was a wise woman and Kate wondered if she’d guessed the truth. Would she believe Kate had never meant to hurt anyone, least of all Dylan?

“I’m afraid Dylan is giving me too much credit. He doesn’t really see—”

“Yes, I do.” He looked down and cupped her jaw in his palm. His eyes were darkly intent, as if determined to make her understand. “I do see.”

It was everything Kate could do not to cry. It didn’t seem to be part of his adoring husband act, and she wanted more than anything to believe that he no longer thought of her as a spoiled heiress who dabbled in philanthropy out of boredom. She wanted to be the kind of wife he deserved.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder and listened to the O’Rourkes chatter with one another. It was like a family reunion every week, with food and laughter and good talk. Sooner or later someone always set up a board game and they’d amicably compete. Normally she loved to join in, but her tiredness was genuine. She’d made an appointment with the doctor on Tuesday to get a checkup, but already suspected the cause.

“Do you want to go home?” Dylan murmured, still holding her close.

“No, I’m fine. You were going to build new shelves for your mother’s pantry,” Kate said, straightening. “Why don’t you go ahead, unless you wanted to play a game. I see Maddie just pulled out Monopoly.”

Dylan’s nose wrinkled. “The last time we played Monopoly I was here until midnight. I’d much rather build those shelves than pass go two million times.”

He went outside to get the wood from the back of his truck, and Kate pushed the curtains to one side to watch him put heavy loads on one shoulder, then carry them easily around the back of the house. Lord, he was strong, and not the least bit afraid of hard work.

Her heart aching, Kate got up and skirted the game players who’d settled down for some serious competition.

It was an unusually warm afternoon for the Seattle area, and Dylan had discarded his shirt as he measured and cut boards to their proper length. Muscles moved smoothly beneath his tanned skin and a different kind of warmth invaded Kate’s body. As if sensing her watching, he looked up.

“Did you change your mind? Mom won’t mind if I do this another time.”

“Uh, no. I just wanted some fresh air.” She also wanted
him
, but it was hardly the time or place to say so. They had a strange, dichotomous life—friends during the day, and silent, passionate lovers in the dark.

The shelves went together so quickly it amazed Kate, though it shouldn’t have. Dylan was transforming the new rooms in the carriage house with breathtaking speed, though she didn’t know why he’d decided to do the work himself, rather than bring in a crew who would have finished the remodel in a few days.

Before long the new shelves were coated with glistening white primer and he was telling his mother that he’d return in a couple of days to apply a second coat of paint.

“I can do that, dear,” Pegeen protested. “Or it can wait until next weekend.”

“Nope. What’s the good of having a contractor in the family if you don’t let him handle this sort of stuff?” Dylan said, cleaning his hands with turpentine.

“But I don’t want to take advantage.” Pegeen’s eyes were soft with love. “And you’ve a wife, now, darlin’.”

“I know.” Dylan looked at Kate perched on a stool and his heart wrenched.

A year.

Kate was his wife for a year.

Once again she hadn’t said anything about his four-night absence or objected when he’d been unable to resist slipping into her bedroom after midnight on Saturday. It didn’t add up. Kate wasn’t the type to take sex lightly. But wanting to believe it meant something and
knowing
it did were two different things.

It made him feel out of control, as if he were trapped in a riptide, with him grabbing at the ground and trying to keep from getting sucked away. Then Kate slipped her hand into his as they said goodbye, and the world was suddenly anchored.

Hell, he was in big trouble. Falling in love wasn’t part of their agreement. Of course, he’d fallen in love with her a long time ago, but had just been too stubborn and afraid of losing her to accept it.

When he lifted Kate into the truck, he frowned. “You’ve lost weight.”

“I needed to lose a few pounds.”

Dylan stared. “No, you didn’t. What’s going on?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“Skipping meals isn’t going to help you get more done,” he said, exasperated. “I mean it, Kate. You’ve got to take better care of yourself.”

“I don’t need a keeper.”

“That’s not what I said. Listen, honey, I know how much you care about everyone, especially about folks who can’t help themselves, but you can’t fix all their problems overnight.”

Honey?

Kate automatically looked around the yard to see if any of the O’Rourkes had appeared, but they were alone. There wasn’t any need to put on an act or utter meaningless endearments.

Honey.

Hope filled her, just because of a little word. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he seemed to understand how important her community work was to her. And that she worked hard.

“The hospital is getting the clinic, and there’s money for the day care center…you’ve done lots of great stuff,” Dylan argued. “Making yourself sick isn’t going to help anyone else.”

“I’m not getting sick.”

I just think I’m pregnant.

It was the most likely explanation for her seesawing emotions and tiredness. Dylan had been careful about protection after their first night together, but once was all it took.

She didn’t know how she was going to tell him if she
turned out to be right. Getting pregnant wasn’t part of their agreement. Of course, sex hadn’t been part of the agreement, either, but he’d probably still blame her.

Men were funny that way.

When it came to making babies a lot of them seemed to think a woman did it all by herself.

“I have a checkup with the doctor this week,” she told Dylan. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I do worry.” His hands stroked her thighs in slow circles. It was the first time since they’d first made love that he’d really touched her outside of bed, and her toes curled. “But it isn’t because I don’t think you can take care of yourself, though you do tend to think of others first.”

“Not bad for a spoiled brat, right?”

“You’re not spoiled.” Dylan’s dark gaze lifted, and he seemed to be asking or saying something. “I’m sorry I ever thought that, because it was never true.”

Kate swallowed and blinked. Drat her hormones, this was no time to cry. “I’ve never been denied anything. Most people would consider that spoiled.”

“Wrong, you were denied
everything
you wanted,” he corrected gently. “You wanted your parents and grandmother to love you unconditionally. You wanted to be held and comforted and remembered in the good times and the bad. You wanted to give the same love back, and they wouldn’t take it. But it wasn’t because of you, sweetheart, it was because they couldn’t see past the emptiness in their lives.”

Oh, dear.

He did understand. She’d never had someone see her so well, and it was both wonderful and scary at the same time.

“Dylan…” Her voice caught and two tears escaped.

“Don’t cry, Katydid.” Dylan wiped them away and left kisses in their place. “I know things are mixed up right now, and I’m a big part of making it that way. But it’s going to be all right. We’ll sort it out.”

If she could only believe that, but he’d be so angry when he found out she’d tricked him.

Kate thought about it through the week, particularly at the doctor’s office when the physician prescribed prenatal vitamins and told her to drink more milk and take a nap every afternoon.

By Friday she was no closer to an answer, and she finally walked over to the Douglas Hill House, partly to make notes on the restoration needed, but mostly to confront her past.

The enormous foyer echoed as Kate opened the door, and she shivered. Visits had always been times of disapproval or of stern lectures on how a Douglas should properly behave.

“Sorry, Grandmamma,” Kate said. “But I’m too much like Grandfather Rycroft—I don’t want to be buried before I start living.”

No answer came, and she shook her head. Her imagination had been another source of Jane Douglas’s displeasure, but her imagination, and Dylan, had been the saving graces of her childhood.

The afternoon wore on as Kate completed page after page of notes. Her grandmother had become notoriously tight with money in the last two decades of her life. A great deal of work would be needed if Kate succeeded in establishing the Douglas Hill House Historical Foundation.

In one of the neglected second floor bedrooms on the north of the house Kate shut the door to examine a crack in the wall, but when she tried to open it the ancient knob just turned without doing anything. She shook the knob and tried it again without success.

“Tarnation.”

She kicked the heavy mahogany door, then tried everything she could think of to get the knob to catch whatever it was supposed to catch on. She even tried removing the whole assembly, but her fingernails couldn’t budge the screws.

“I can’t believe this,” Kate muttered, prowling around the room. The bathroom worked, though the fixtures were right out of the nineteen twenties. “Why didn’t I bring my cell phone?”

Dylan would be home soon, so she forced a window open and looked out. Great. Just great. There was no way to climb down safely. Almost as bad, the carriage house was tucked behind a stand of trees on the other side of the mansion. Dylan wouldn’t hear her, no matter how hard she yelled.

Nevertheless, Kate called and shouted off and on until her throat was raw, then she threw herself down on the dusty bed and glared at the massive four-poster.

Fine. Dylan could wonder where
she
was for once.

Of course, he might realize something was wrong when she didn’t call. She wasn’t in any danger, but it would be nice if he’d worry enough to come looking.

Dylan got back to the carriage house later than normal, but it was for a good reason and he didn’t think Kate would mind.

“That’s fine,” he called, directing his companions to park in front of the house.

“Your wife is gonna love this,” said the man who’d driven Kate’s fully restored Beetle back from the shop. He ran a hand over the shiny fire-engine red hood. “It was mostly the body that needed work, the motor runs great.”

Dylan grimaced. He would have to eat crow with Kate. The mechanics had raved about the beautifully maintained condition of the working parts of her car. How many times had he assumed she couldn’t take care of herself, when all along she was doing it quietly and well?

“Can I wait to see Mrs. O’Rourke’s reaction?”

“No, you can’t,” said the third man who’d followed them. “They become like his babies,” he said to Dylan, shaking his head. “Come on, Fred, it’s time to cut the cord.”

Dylan escorted them down to the gate, then hurried back to the house, hoping Kate hadn’t gotten curious about the commotion in the driveway.

The Beetle sat in the evening sunlight, looking like it had just rolled off the assembly line. He’d tell Kate it was her real birthday present and that she could forget he’d ever bought that stupid pair of earrings.

Pleased, Dylan ran up the stairs. Kate was probably in the kitchen, fixing another one of her inevitable salads, and seasoning a steak for him to eat. He was getting pretty damn spoiled by all that.

Tonight he’d try to get her to eat some of the steak herself. He didn’t care that the doctor claimed she was in good health. Her weight loss bothered him. It bothered him even more that she might have lost weight because of something he’d done.

“Kate? I have a surprise for you.”

The house was silent. Was she taking another nap? Remembering the day he’d come home to find her asleep, he peeked into the bedroom, then frowned. It was empty.

Trying not to worry, Dylan checked the phone machine, then called his office voice mail.

Nothing.

The car he’d bought for her was in the garage, but that didn’t mean anything. She might have taken a cab or been picked up by a friend or a fellow board member, and if she was in the middle of a sensitive negotiation she might not feel free to break off for a phone call. He’d order some Chinese food and have it waiting when she got here. No way would he let her cook at the end of such a long day.

Four hours later Dylan was climbing the walls.

He would have liked to believe Kate was just getting back at him for his own overnight absences, but that wasn’t her style. Before they were married he might have believed she was immature enough to want revenge, but not now. He’d gotten to know her better. Or had he?

As the minutes ticked by, Dylan tried to figure out what he should do, and realized he didn’t know Kate at all. They’d been as intimate in the bedroom as two people could be, but he didn’t know who her friends were, or where her interests lay, or anything else. He didn’t even know who to start calling. Why had he wasted so much time, not talking to Kate and getting to really know her?