Kat Attalla Special Edition (58 page)

Why couldn't he get a handle on his pride when it came to Kate?

The dress brought back too many memories of well-meaning people who stopped by with hand-me-downs for Chloe after her mother left. As if being without a wife meant he couldn't take care of his own child. He resented it then and even more so when he thought Kate was doing the same.

"Nice goin', Jake," Trevor said as he drew up alongside. "Next time, why not embarrass her in front of the entire town? I find it amazing that you were married for five years and you know nothing about women. They trade clothes the way men trade dirty jokes. It don't mean nothin'."

"It doesn't mean anything," he corrected as if he were talking to Chloe.

"I'm glad you agree. It's a good thing her cakes are better than sex, because you ain't getting the real thing for a while."

"Shut up, Trevor."

"Apologize, Jake. And stop trying to interfere in their friendship. She's the best thing to happen to Chloe in a long time. And you, too, if you'd stop being such a jackass."

Chapter Seven

Kate heard the knocking on the back door. She checked the window to be sure it wasn't Chloe, and then pretended not to notice. Let him spend the day stewing. He deserved it.

Is this what you wanted, Kate? To live in the real world? He couldn't handle what he believed her to be; he'd never deal with the truth.

Perhaps she should have taken her mother's advice. Stick to your own kind, Rosie had warned her. They may be superficial, but where there's no emotion, there's no pain.

Those weren't words to live by. Kate refused to start doubting her decision. No relationship ran smoothly all the time. A rough start meant it would only get better. Didn't it?

She wandered through the rooms, too restless to sit, too angry to work. A pile of catalogs sat undisturbed on the coffee table in the living room. She usually had such a passion for mail order, but even the best of the catalogs forwarded from home couldn't hold her attention for long.

Nikki! She could call her sister. Nikki would know how to handle a macho jerk. She'd had enough experience.

She went to the bedroom and sprawled across the bed, making herself comfortable for the marathon talk session. She dialed the
New York
number and waited an eternity for the connection to go through. Actually it was only one second, she conceded, but anticipation made it seem longer.

"Hi." The cheerful voice she missed came clearly through the line.

"Nikki. It's me."

"Ha ha. Fooled you. This is the new millennium; you know what to do at the tone. ..."

Damn. She hated that answering machine message her sister used. If she hadn't been so excited about talking to her, Kate might have remembered. "It's me. Call if you get a chance."

She hung up the phone feeling out of sorts. What did she expect? Her sister had a life. Everyone had a life except her.

The old velveteen rabbit that sat on her bed offered the only source of comfort that afternoon. The stuffed toy had belonged to Kelly, and it was the only thing she had left of the child. She cradled it in her arms and gave in to the overwhelming desire to cry.

God, how she still missed her. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she could think of Kelly and not fall apart.

* * * *

A ray of sun filtering through her window woke Kate in the afternoon. All the ghosts had returned to their hiding places, but her body ached with a dull residue of sorrow. She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. Four o’clock? Had she really slept for four hours? She still had to make a cake for dinner. Although the nap had not softened her anger with Jake, she’d accepted the invitation, and she didn't want to disappoint Chloe.

A long, languid stretch removed some of the cramping from her arms and legs. She pushed back the blanket, surprised that she couldn't remember covering herself. Everything was hazy. She would have sworn she had left the quilt in the living room.

She stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on her face. The frigid spring water that flowed from the underground well never failed to shock her body to life. And the taste was pure and clean. She finished baking the cake and getting dressed, with time to spare. Surprisingly, Chloe hadn't stopped by with the dress. Perhaps Jake had had a change of heart?

Not likely, she decided. Chloe would probably return it when she arrived for dinner.

* * * *

"Set the table for four, Chloe," Jake said optimistically. He hoped that since Kate had spent the last hour in her kitchen, she’d made a cake for dinner rather than doing the painting she had spoken of earlier.

With Chloe sulking, Trevor smirking, and Kate reusing to answer the door, he'd had a hell of an afternoon. Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, but he hadn't gotten any. When he had finally decided to walk into her house and demand that she listen to him, he bund her curled around that ratty-looking stuffed animal, fast asleep.

Her sniffling and hiccups made him feel like a first-class bastard. She’d evidently cried herself into exhaustion. As he pushed her hair off her face, she didn't stir. When he covered her with a blanket, it did nothing or the spontaneous trembling of her body. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her.

"Dad," Chloe called out, waving her hand in front I of his face. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head and focused his eyes on Chloe. "What were you saying?"

"Why don't you go ask her if she's coming before I set the table?"

"Will it kill you to put down an extra plate?" he snapped. Chloe frowned. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm sure she's coming."

Yes, she would come. But she would wait until the very last second, just to make him suffer. His pride told him she was being unreasonable, but that mocking little voice of conscience reminded him that he deserved her angry silence.

Ignoring his request for her to set the table, Chloe began peeking into the pots on the stove. "If you wanted to impress her, why did you make peas?"

"You're eating them. Don't use Kate as an excuse." He turned her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle push out of the kitchen. "Set the table like you're supposed to."

She paused at the archway and put her hands on her hips. "Go pick up your date like you're supposed to. Didn't you tell me I would never be allowed to go out with a guy who wouldn't pick me up at my front door?”

Lord, he had to choose his words carefully. Chloe had an excellent memory, and he would spend the next few years eating his words. "You're right. I will go collect my date."

"Wait." She looked him up and down, closing one eye and thoughtfully mulling over his appearance. "Unbutton your collar. You look like you're going' to Sunday school."

He didn't want to explain the mark on his neck to his teenaged daughter. For the next few days he was going to have to keep his shirt buttoned. "I can dress myself, Chloe."

She shrugged. "Just trying to help."

Jake sighed. He received dating tips from a fifteen-year-old who would rather play baseball with the boys than kiss them. Not to mention the helpful advice from his brother, a man whose last three relationships, totaled, didn't last a month. What a choice. And why was he laughing? He hadn't done such a bang-up job himself.

He ducked out the kitchen door and followed the path that had begun to wear in the grass between the two houses. A flaming red sun filled the western sky as it began its descent towards the horizon. He wasn't the only one to appreciate the beauty. When he arrived on Kate's doorstep, he noticed her staring out the window.

She opened the door and motioned for him to come inside. "I'm glad you're here."

"You are?" The rest must have done her good. He didn't expect her to talk to him, let alone welcome him in her home.

"Yes. Here," she said, handing him a nylon bag containing clothes. "Those are Chloe's things. And I figured it out." She picked up her infernal little notepad and showed him some calculations she made. "I've been here four days. Every day Chloe gives me milk and eggs. Four quarts at ninety cents a quart. I called the Quick Check. And a total of two-dozen eggs. At a dollar a dozen, plus the milk, that totals out to five dollars and sixty cents. Right?"

"And the point?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

"I'll have to pay you, of course. Nothing for nothing."

"Stop it, Kate."

"Stop what?" If he didn't know how much he had insulted her earlier, he might believe her innocent act. "Oh. I bought maraschino cherries for the cake because Chloe likes them, but I better ask you before I put them on top. If you have any objections, I can deduct the cost from the total I owe you. Is that all right with you?"

He snatched the notepad from her hand and tossed it on the counter before she went any further.

She slid her hand into the pocket of her powder blue slacks and extracted a ten-dollar bill. "Have you got change, Jake?"

"Put the money back in your pocket, Kate. You've made your point. I guess I can be thankful that you didn't do this in front of my family."

"I should have. That's how you did it to me."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"No, you weren't. I was. I thought my relationship with Chloe was separate from ours. But it isn't, is it?"

"No. She's my daughter. I can't put that aside in my mind. I know you can afford it, Kate, but I don't want you giving her things. She has to earn them. I can't help the way I feel. I shouldn't have exploded like I did, and for that I'm sorry."

"So what makes you think your daughter is any different from you? She wouldn't take the dress unless I took something from her. Or did you think I needed a pair of overalls?"

"Well," he said, handing the bag back to her, "you'll have to wear them now. I told her she could keep the dress."

"Probably because you were afraid you wouldn't get your cake," she muttered angrily.

"You're right."

Kate sighed. "You get bent out of shape over a dress, but you'll compromise your principles for a chocolate cake. Do you see an inconsistency here?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. Let me finish here before we have another argument."

"Does that mean this one is over?"

"No." She popped the top on the bottle of cherries and began to pull them out.

"I didn't think so." Jake waited until her back was turned before breaking out in a wide grin. Despite her words to the contrary, he knew he would get around her before the night ended.

* * * *

"I see your reflection in the window, Mr. Callahan. I don't know what you're so pleased about."

"Can't I smile at a beautiful woman?"

"Not at a woman who would rather kick you than look at you."

He came up behind her and stood just inches away. Close enough to touch her, although he didn't try. "You don't mean that, Kate. You don't even swat the flies away."

His hands, resting on the counter at each side of her waist, had her held captive. He peeked over her shoulder and watched her arrange the cherries on top of the cake.

"Cut it out, Jake," she warned.

"I'm not touching you."

"You're breathing on me."

"Should I stop breathing?"

"Is it an option you'd consider?" The warm exhalation of his laughter tickled her neck and sent a white-hot ripple down her spine. Even while she was flaming mad at him, he could make her body hotter than her temper. "Don't you have some food burning on the stove?"

"Something's burnin'," he muttered, his husky voice oozing with boyish country charm.

Damn him! He didn't allow her the dignity of making him suffer. Worse, her stubborn refusal to give in tormented her. She skirted out from under his restraining arm, brushed her hip along his rock-solid leg. Her pulse soared, and a tingling sensation rose in her lower abdomen. It didn't help to remind herself that she experienced a purely physical reaction.

Nor did it remove the smirk from Jake's face. How could he be so sure of himself in one respect, yet so insecure when it came to the difference in their bank statements? He frustrated her no end. She knew how to handle a man who was only after her money, but Jake posed a different problem all together.

"For how long do you intend to punish me, Kate?"

"You know what they say about getting out of the kitchen if you can't take the heat?"

"I think we both should. Unless you want Chloe finish the cooking. It's a good thing that girl can run tractor or she'd never catch a man."

"Don't you make me laugh, Jake Callahan. I'm still mad at you." She bit down hard on her lip to keep from smiling.

"But you're warming' up."

"If my being hot was the issue, there wouldn't be problem. I thought that was a given." She grabbed h sweater off the wall peg and tossed it casually over her shoulders. "Take the cake please."