King’s Million-Dollar Secret (8 page)

The scents of vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate filled her car and made Katie smile in spite of the fact that she was running on about three hours sleep. But she couldn't blame her sleeplessness entirely on the fact that she'd been baking half the night. Because when she finally did get to bed, she'd slept fitfully, tortured by dreams of Rafe. Of the night they'd had together.

And there he was again, front and center in her brain. Seeing him every day wasn't helping her avoid thoughts of him. Especially since her own body seemed determined to remind her, every chance it got, of just what she'd experienced in his arms.

“Need some help?”

Katie jolted and slapped one hand to her chest as she turned around to look at the very man she had just been thinking about. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He grinned. “I called out to you, but you didn't hear me, I guess.”

No, she hadn't. She'd been too busy remembering his hands on her skin. The taste of his mouth. The slow slide of his body invading hers. Oh, boy. She blew out a breath, forced a smile and said, “I'm just preoccupied.”

“I can see that,” he said, glancing into the back of the SUV. “You've been busy.”

“I really have,” she admitted, and turned to pick up the last box, holding a dozen pink frosted cookies shaped like baby rattles.

“Let me get that,” he said and reached for it before she could stop him.

Truthfully, even though it was a little uncomfortable being around him at the moment, Katie was glad he was there. She'd spent the last few days avoiding being alone with him, allowing herself only a glimpse of him now and then. Having him close enough now that she could feel his body heat was a sort of tempting torture. He looked great in his worn blue jeans and blue T-shirt with King Construction stenciled across the back. And he smelled even better, with the scent of soap from his morning shower still clinging to his skin. She wanted to go to him. To kiss him.

She caught that thought and strangled it. She was so tired, she was nearly staggering. Way too tired to trust her instincts around a man she already knew she wanted. Katie gave herself a quick, silent talking-to. Besides, she still had a full morning of deliveries. “Thanks.”

He set the box in the trunk, then shot her a look. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just tired.”

He frowned and shifted his gaze to the mass of cookies. “You're delivering all of these yourself?”

She yawned and nodded. “Sorry. Yes. My usual delivery girl is camping in Yosemite with her family so…”

“You can hardly keep your eyes open,” he accused.

As if to prove him wrong, Katie opened her eyes as wide as possible and pretended not to notice that they felt like marbles rolling in sand. “I'm fine. Really. I'll have these done in an hour or two and then I'll come home and take a nap.”

From inside the kitchen, a saw buzzed into life.

“Well, maybe I'll take a nap,” she said with a wry smile.

He didn't return the smile. Instead, he glowered at her, crossed his arms over his chest and said flatly, “You're not driving anywhere.”

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

Shaking his head, Rafe said, “Katie, you're practically asleep on your feet. You try to drive and you'll end up killing someone. Or yourself.”

“You're overreacting,” she said and closed the trunk lid. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can,” he agreed amiably. “When you're awake.”

“I'm not your responsibility, Rafe,” she argued, fighting the urge to yawn again. See? Just another reason why they wouldn't have worked out as a couple. He was too bossy and she was too stubborn.

God, she was tired. Another yawn sneaked up on her before she could stifle it and she saw his eyes narrow dangerously. Perfect. She had just given him more ammunition for his argument. To head him off before he could say anything, she spoke up quickly. “Look, I appreciate the concern, really. But I'm fine and we both have work to do. Why don't we just get on with what we were doing and let this go?”

“I don't think so.” Rafe grabbed the keys from the trunk lock and held them out of reach. “I'm not kidding about this. No way am I letting you drive.”

“Letting me?”
she repeated incredulously as she stared up into his implacable expression. “You don't have a vote in it, Rafe. This is my car. My business, and I say I'm fine to drive.”

“You're wrong.” He looked over his shoulder at the house. “Wait here.”

He might as well have patted her on the head and ordered her to
stay.
As if she were a golden retriever or
something. And of course she would wait there. What choice did she have? Katie wondered in irritation. He'd taken her keys.

Anger churned inside her and mixed with the fatigue clawing at her. Probably not a good combination. Okay. Fine. Yes, she really
was
exhausted. But she wasn't a danger to people on the road for heaven's sake. She wasn't a complete idiot. She wouldn't drive if she didn't think she could.

The longer he was gone, the more irritated she became. She paced—in the garage, muttering to herself, rubbing her gritty eyes. One night with the man and he became territorial. Probably a good idea she'd decided to keep her distance. Imagine what he'd be like if they were actually in a relationship.

Then that thought settled in. Instead of making her angrier, it gave Katie a soft, warm glow. Who was she kidding? She'd love for someone to be that worried about her. Oh, not that she was some mindless woman to take orders from anyone. But the idea that a man would care enough to worry about her safety sort of dulled the edges of her anger. Of course, she thought wryly, that could be the exhaustion talking.

So when he finally came back, her tone hadn't softened by much as she said, “Give me my keys.”

“Not a chance.” He took her arm in a firm, no-nonsense grip, steered her to the passenger side of her car, opened the door and said simply, “Get in.”

Stubbornly, Katie pulled free of his hold and took a determined step back. Standing her ground, she lifted her chin in defiance and met him stare for stare. “This isn't funny, Rafe.”

His blue eyes narrowed on her. “Damn right it isn't. You're too self-sufficient for your own good.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you're so focused on doing everything on your own you don't know enough to ask for help when you need it.” He scowled at her as if expecting her to quail before his impeccable logic. She didn't.

“I don't need help, and if I did, I wouldn't come to you.”

He took a quick, sharp breath. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, we're not together and you're supposed to be working on my kitchen.”

“We could be together if you weren't so damn hard-headed,” he pointed out. “And as for working on your kitchen, I can do that when we get back.”

“
We
aren't going anywhere,” she argued and felt another yawn sneaking up on her. She twisted her mouth together and clamped her lips shut rather than giving into it.

“Nice try, but I saw that yawn anyway,” he pointed out.

“Doesn't mean a thing,” she told him.

“Damn it, Katie,” Rafe said, his voice quiet, his gaze locked on hers, “Even if you don't want
my
help, you could at least admit that you're too damn tired to think straight, let alone drive.”

He was leaning on the open passenger door, just an arm's reach away from her. His blue eyes were locked on her and his dark blue, steely stare told Katie he wouldn't be giving up easily.

So she tried another tactic.

“Rafe,” she assured him in a calm, rational tone that completely belied the irritation still spiking inside her, “I'm completely fine. Really.”

Then she yawned again.

“Uh-huh,” he said, “I'm convinced. Get in. I'm driving.”

“You?”
She looked from him to the kitchen, where the crew was busy doing heaven knew what to her house and asked, “You can't just walk away from your job.”

“I told the guys to let Joe know I was helping you out and that I'd be back in a couple of hours.”

“You can't do that.” Wouldn't he be fired? She couldn't let him lose his job over this.

“Yeah,” he said, “I can. Consider us a full-service construction company. Whatever the boss—that's
you
—needs, we provide.”

Katie hadn't gone to him, he'd come to her. And there was the slightest chance that he was right and she was too tired to drive all over town. But at the same time, that didn't make it okay for him to ride in and take over.

She thought about it, her mind racing, arguing with itself. Yes, he was being a jerk, but he was also being nice, in a roundabout, tyrannical sort of way. He was glaring at her, but he was worried about her. He was supposed to be working on her kitchen, but instead he was willing to drive her around town making cookie deliveries.

And she would be alone with him in the car for an hour or more. That appealed to her on so many levels it was scary. But could she really be with him and
not
with him at the same time?

Oh, she was so tired, even
she
didn't understand her any more.

“I can practically hear you arguing with yourself,” he said after a long moment.

“It's easier than arguing with you,” she told him.

“True. And before we start in again, you should know that I don't quit. I don't give in. Never surrender.”

She tipped her head to one side and looked up at him. “I don't quit, either.”

He shrugged. “Hence the trouble between us.”

“Hence?”
she repeated, smiling in spite of the situation.

Rafe blew out a breath. “Are you getting in, or do I pick you up and
put
you in?” he asked.

Katie sent him a hard glare. “All right, fine,” she confessed. “I
might
be a little too tired to drive.”

He smiled and Katie's toes curled in her comfortable flats. Oh, boy. For all of her fine notions about keeping her distance, about not letting herself fall for a guy, she was certainly doing a lot of stumbling around him.

“Now that we're on the same page, so to speak,” Rafe said, “will you please get in the car?”

Her mouth twitched into a smile at the way he'd changed his command to a request. She nodded, climbing up into the passenger seat. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He closed her door, walked around to the driver's side and slid her key into the ignition. Then he looked at her and said, “So, how does it feel to be going on our second date?”

Her eyebrows winged up when she turned her gaze on him. “Delivering cookies is a date?”

“If we say it is, yeah.” He fired up the engine and looked at her again. “So? Is it?”

Katie stared at him and remembered that night. Then she remembered the last few days, being so close to him and so far away all at the same time. She remembered every haunting dream she'd had and how she would wake up, aching for his touch.

Was she being an idiot by shutting out the first nice,
normal guy she'd met in way too long? Okay, yes, he was a little bossy, but she could handle that. Would it really be so bad to take a chance? To spend some time with Rafe? To see if what she already felt for him might grow? After all, she could concentrate on her business
and
have a life, couldn't she? Isn't that what Nana and Nicole both had been trying to tell her?

Memories of Cordell rose up in her mind, but Katie fought them down with determination.

Watching Rafe, she finally said, “It's not a date unless you spring for a cup of coffee at least.”

He grinned at her, clearly victorious. “One latte, coming up.”

A
n hour and a half later, Katie looked a little more alert and Rafe was enjoying himself immensely. “No wonder you like doing this,” he said, sliding into the driver's seat after making the last of the deliveries. “People are excited to see you when you bring them cookies.”

She grinned. “How did the pink baby-rattle cookies go over?”

He laughed and held up a five-dollar bill. “I got a tip!”

He looked so pleased with himself, Katie had to laugh, too. “Congratulations, you're a delivery person.”

“She cried, too,” he said, handing Katie the five. Shaking his head, he remembered the expression on the woman's face when she opened the door and saw him standing there, holding the basket of pink frosted cookies. “The woman? The new mom? She took one look at those cookies her friend ordered from you and
burst into tears. She was laughing and crying and for a minute.” Then he added, “it was terrifying.”

Katie reached out and patted his arm. “Not what you're used to as a carpenter?”

“No,” he said simply, looking into her green eyes. She was so pleased with him, having so much fun, he couldn't help but suddenly feel like a first-class rat for lying to her.

He thought back to his conversation with Katie's grandmother and realized that she had been right. Ever since talking to Emily, he'd been rethinking this whole keep-the-lie-going thing. His lies hadn't seemed like such a big deal when he had started out on this job. But now, every day with Katie made him feel that much more like a jerk. He should have told her the truth before now.

Sure, he'd told Emily that he was sticking to his plan, but she'd made him start to doubt the wisdom in that. But he couldn't think of a good way out of this mess. Because, he realized with startling clarity, the moment he told Katie about his lies, what his real name was, it would all be over between them.

Odd that he hadn't considered that possibility before. But then, he hadn't thought that he would
want
to keep seeing her once this job was finished. Now though, he knew he didn't want her disappearing from his life at the end of this job. He wanted to keep seeing her. And the chances of that happening looked slim.

He imagined blurting out the truth right there and then. Telling her that he wasn't the man she thought he was. And in his mind's eye, he saw her features tighten with betrayal, saw the shine in her green eyes dim and then flash with fury, and he told himself that it didn't
matter if he was starting to get uncomfortable with his lies.

She wasn't ready to learn the truth.

He wanted her to care for him before he told her who he was. And then? a voice in his mind whispered. But he didn't have an answer to that yet. All Rafe knew was that he wanted to be with her
now.
And he didn't want the King name ruining that.

So he was stuck with his lies, his plan, whether he wanted to be or not.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“A little more awake, thanks. The latte helped.”

“Not enough,” he decided. Her green eyes were shadowed and her face was too pale to suit him. The fact that he was worried about her bothered him, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about that. “You still look tired.”

“Well, don't I feel pretty?” she asked wryly.

“You're beautiful.” Two words, softly spoken, and they seemed to echo in the air around them. He hadn't meant to blurt that out. It had been a knee-jerk reaction.

“Rafe—”

“Don't,” he said quietly, before she could start in on her speech about how nothing had changed and she still wasn't interested in being with him. He could
feel
her reaction to his closeness. Her skin was warm and though her eyes were tired, he still noticed the gleam of desire in their depths.

Leaning in closer to her, Rafe reached out, touched her cheek with his fingertips and tipped her face up for his kiss. “Just, let me…”

She sighed and moved into him, meeting him half-
way, taking what he offered, and Rafe was relieved. He didn't know if he could have taken her turning from him or pulling away. He'd been thinking about doing just this for the last few days. Thinking about
her.
The first touch of her mouth to his eased everything inside him, yet rekindled a fire that had been nothing more than glowing embers since their one night together.

His body tightened, his heartbeat thundered in his chest and Rafe had to fight every instinct he possessed to keep from grabbing her and yanking her close to him. He wanted his hands on her again. Wanted her under him, over him. Wanted her body surrendering to his.

He groaned then, knowing he couldn't have everything he wanted right now. And the longer he kissed her, the less willing he would be to stop. So he pulled back while he still could and drew a long, shaky breath.

Resting his forehead against hers, he waited for control to slide back into his body, but it was a long time coming. Especially when he could feel her short, sharp breaths against his face. Well, he thought wryly, so much for her claims of not wanting to be with him again.

Several long moments passed before he gave her a smile, looked into her eyes and said, “There. Told you we weren't done with each other.”

Katie shook her head, one corner of her mouth tipping into a reluctant half smile. “You really think now is the right time for I-told-you-sos?”

“What better time?”

“You're impossible.”

“I like that.” He skimmed his fingers through her hair until his hand was at the back of her neck, kneading her skin with a sure, gentle touch.

“You would,” she told him, sighing at his touch.

“Are we going to argue again?” he asked. “Because I warn you, I'm getting to the point where I really enjoy our ‘disagreements.'”

“Maybe later.” She cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand.

“At least you admit there will be a ‘later.'”

“Yes,” she said with a slow nod, never tearing her gaze from his. “There will be.”

“Tonight.” Rafe caught her hand in his. “I want to see you tonight.”

“Okay,” she said. “Another barbecue?”

“Oh, I think this time we'll let someone else cook. I'll pick you up at seven,” he said, easing back behind the wheel.

“To go where?”

“That's a surprise.” He shot her a quick grin as a plan formed in his mind while he steered the car into traffic. “All you have to do is dress up. Oh, and take a nap. I want you wide awake tonight.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“Count on it.”

His mind was already racing with plans and he smiled to himself as it all began to come together.

 

That feeling lasted until he went home to change.

The minute he walked into his hotel suite, he knew someone was there. Didn't take a genius, after all. There was a designer purse on his couch and a pair of black heels under the glass-topped coffee table.

Rafe's brain raced frantically. Had he already set up a date for tonight? He didn't think so. Hell, he hadn't seen anyone since Selena the Self Involved Actress. So who…?

“Rafe? Is that you?”

The familiar, feminine voice sent a twist of old pain mixed with regret slashing through his middle, but he fought it down and managed to give his ex-wife a half smile when she came in off the balcony.

“Leslie. What are you doing here?”

The cool, elegant brunette flashed him a brief, wry smile. “Well, good to see you too, Rafe.”

Irritated at being called to the carpet on his manners when she was the one who'd shown up unannounced and let herself into
his
home, Rafe just stared at her. Waiting.

It didn't take long. Leslie never had been the patient type. “I know I should have called before just showing up here.”

“That would've been good,” he said.

She stood with the balcony and the bank of windows at her back. Rafe was absolutely sure she knew that the sunlight streaming in through those windows was highlighting her to a beautiful advantage. Leslie always had known how to show herself off in the best way. She was lovely, self-assured and the only woman in the world who had ever told him that he wasn't good enough.

That memory colored his tone when he spoke. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh,” she said, giving him a palms-up shrug, “Declan's still the concierge here. He let me up so I could wait for you in private.”

Silently, Rafe told himself that he'd be having a little chat with Declan real soon. For the moment though… “I repeat. What are you doing here?”

Leslie frowned slightly, not enough to mar her brow or anything, but he got the message. She had never had any trouble letting Rafe know that he'd disappointed her in some way. Looking back now, he couldn't even
remember
why
they had gotten married in the first place.

“You always were a straightforward man,” she murmured.

“As I recall, that's one of the things you didn't care for.”

Her mouth flattened into a straight line briefly; then, as if she'd willed it to happen, it curved again slightly. “Look at us. It's been years since we divorced and we're still treating each other like the enemy.”

He shifted a little at that, since it was true and there really was no point in it. Leslie wasn't a part of his life anymore, so why go on a forced march down memory lane?

“True. So tell me. Why are you here?”

“Honestly?” She shook her head in wonder and admitted, “I can't believe I'm here, either. But I didn't have anywhere else to turn.”

She took a small breath, covered her mouth with her fingertips and let tears well in her eyes. Something inside Rafe tightened as he remembered all the times Leslie had been able to turn on the tears. During an argument, to avoid an argument or just to make the point that he was a selfish bastard—out came the tears. When they were dating, he'd felt almost heroic when he could make those tears stop. Because she looked so damn fragile when she cried. Today though, he was no longer moved. Besides, she had a different husband now. Why wasn't she home turning
him
inside out?

“Oh, Rafe,” she whispered brokenly, allowing the sunlight to backlight her to perfection. “I hated coming here, truly, but I had no choice.”

“Just tell me what's going on.”

“It's John,” she said and Rafe felt an instant stab of
worry. After all, before he became Leslie's husband, John Peters had been Rafe's best friend.

“Is he all right?”

“Physically, yes,” she said with a little shake of her head. “But Rafe, he's lost his job and I don't know what to do.”

For one very brief second, Rafe felt a twinge of sympathy for his old friend. He and John had met in college and until Leslie had come between them, they'd been the best of friends. Truthfully, Rafe had missed John's friendship more than he had missed being with Leslie.

A sad statement on a dead marriage.

“What's that got to do with me?” He winced at the tone in his own voice and knew that he'd sounded crueler than he'd intended when her head came up and her eyes narrowed.

“You don't have to be mean.”

He sighed and glanced at his watch. He wanted to take a shower, get dressed and pick up Katie. Leslie was his past and his present was looking a lot more promising. So rather than prolonging this conversation, he got to the point. “Leslie, you're my
ex
-wife married to my
ex
-friend. Just how much sympathy do you expect?”

“I knew you wouldn't understand.”

“You're right,” he agreed, heading for the wet bar along the wall. He suddenly wanted a beer. “I don't.”

She walked over to join him and asked for a glass of wine. Once he'd poured it and handed it to her, Leslie took a sip and said, “I need money.”

Rafe almost smiled, even as he felt a brand-new sheen of ice coat his heart. He should have known. When it came right down to it, what people wanted from the
Kings was money. Never failed. “Does John know you're here?”

“Of course not. He'd be humiliated.”

That much Rafe believed. The man Rafe remembered would have been horrified to know that Leslie was here asking for help. He leaned one arm on the bar top. “Just out of curiosity, say I give you the cash you need, how do you explain that to John?”

“I'll find a way,” she said, lifting her chin slightly to prove her point. “I can be pretty persuasive.”

“I remember.” He remembered a lot, Rafe thought. Leslie had always been able to find a way to get whatever it was she wanted. That much, it seemed, hadn't changed. As he looked at his ex-wife now, he mentally compared her to Katie Charles. Katie with her soft hair and faded jeans. With the laugh that seemed to bubble up from her soul. With green eyes that flashed from humor to fury and back again in a heartbeat.

Leslie was coolly elegant.

Katie was heat and passion and—he shut his brain off before it went on an even wilder tangent.

“Rafe, I wouldn't have come to you if I'd had anywhere else to turn,” she said, and for the first time, her voice held an edge of regret.

“Yeah, I know that, too.” Rafe thought about Katie again and wondered what she would do if she was in Leslie's position. He didn't like to think about Katie being in trouble. Didn't want to acknowledge that it bothered him more than a little to know that she wouldn't turn to him.

Then he thought about how hard Katie worked at building her business. How she scrambled for a living. How she worked and fought for a future doing something she loved. She would do whatever she had to do to take
care of herself. And he realized that Leslie was only doing the same thing now. She never would have come to him for help if she hadn't been desperate. Hell, he could read that much in her tear-sheened blue eyes. Because of Katie, Rafe felt a surge of sympathy for Leslie he might not have experienced just a few weeks ago. What was that about?