New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (22 page)

Before Kat could respond, a shriek sounded in the background on the other end of the line.

“Motherhood beckons. Gotta go. Talk to you later.”

Kat hung up the phone and huffed off the sofa. Maybe Andrew should have married Miss Venus, aka Gloria.

Pacing the length of the room, she dug deep in a bag of fudge cookies with pecan chunks.

But then again, Miss Venus probably wouldn't have offered what Kat had. How many women would let a man like Andrew go with no strings attached and without putting up a fight?

None she could think of, who might be in her right mind.

 

T
HE EARLY EVENING SUN SLANTED
over her back as Kat scooted forward on her knees.

“Stick it right there. No, not that hole. The one next to it. Perfect. You might not be too sure of what you're doing now, but with my training you'll be an expert in no time,” she promised. The sight of Andrew on his knees with her left her breathless.

“Yes, mistress of dirt,” Andrew intoned.

Kat passed him a six-pack of perennial plants. “Quiz time. Put these wherever you think they ought to go.” Andrew's interest in the flower bed had surprised her. Accepting her challenge to lay it out and plant it had quite frankly amazed her.

Andrew rocked back on his heels to study the layout of the flower bed she and Anton had spent the day preparing. Rock-hard muscles bunched in his thighs with the motion. Kat flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the ambient air temperature. Those same muscles had bunched up last night just like that right before he… Kat plucked at her shirt, suddenly feeling warm.

“How about right here?”

“Looks good to me.” And the plants were fine there, as well.

Andrew eyed the containers skeptically. “They certainly are small.”

“They're like anything else. Take care of them, nurture them and they'll grow. And the best part is they'll come back year after year.”

“Guaranteed?”

“Not as sure as death and taxes, but if you take care of them they'll come back for years.”

“I don't know if I'll have time to take care of them.”

“You'll find the time if it's something you really want.”

Andrew covered the last root with soil, leaving a trail of dirt on his thigh. Her fingers itched to brush it away. She did nothing to mask her obvious appreciation of his body.

“Andrew, there's something really sexy about dirt.”

A sly, sexy smile played about his mouth. “I bet you say that to all the gardening help. Small wonder Anton's looked so spry lately.”

She'd just be damned, her Harvard stuffed shirt dug
her ogling him. “I only say it to the ones with the great buns.”

“You know, I never noticed Anton's…uh, posterior attributes. You, on the other hand, I have definitely noticed. And you, my garden fairy, have lovely assets.”

“Awfully cheeky for a garden boy toy, aren't you?”

“You haven't seen the half of it yet.” In one lithe move he stripped off his T-shirt.

Somewhere along the way, she'd tapped into a playful sensuality that could literally charm her pants off. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I definitely approve of the first half.”

Still kneeling, he stalked her on the garden path like a dark panther scenting his next meal. She felt ripe and lush and ready for the feasting. She met him halfway.

“You're far overdressed for a garden fairy.” He slowly tugged her shirt up, his knuckles trailing against her sensitized skin, until he pulled it over her head and tossed it behind her. She reached out to steady herself against the roughly furred planes of his chest and wound up caressing the expanse of it. His fingertips blazed a trail of fire down her shoulders.

The late-afternoon sun warmed her bared back. It was nothing compared to the molten heat building inside her. Kat flicked her tongue against his nipple. The sharp hiss of his indrawn breath spoke volumes in the still of the garden.

“We could go inside.” She'd meant to sound sultry and inviting. Instead she croaked.

Andrew slid her bra straps off her shoulders. “It's after hours and no one's here but us. I'm perfectly happy where I am, if you are. You just happen to be overdressed.”

He nuzzled down her chest, and used his teeth to pull the cups of her bra down, baring her breasts. His gray eyes darkening to slate, he fondled and squeezed until
she couldn't stand it any longer and pulled his mouth to one aching nipple.

Hot, slick heat drenched her panties. Kat thought she'd come unglued with the need to feel Andrew deep inside her. She'd been waiting a lifetime to be here with him now, the grass a soft cushion beneath her, the aroma of the fertile earth mingling with their scent.

Instinctively she arched her throbbing core against the hard line of his arousal. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts she pleaded for release from his sweet torture, “Andrew…please…now.”

His eyes never left hers as he removed first his shorts and then hers. “Tell me what you want, Kat.”

She leaned back on the soft green carpet of grass and spread her legs in invitation. “I want you to make love to me.”

Bracing himself over her, he nudged her slick wetness. Her hips arched against him. With one smooth thrust he plowed into her warmth. Kat moved against him in a rhythm as old as mother earth herself until they completed each other. With a tenderness that did nothing to restore her equilibrium, Andrew brushed his lips against hers.

“I think I may like this gardening business,” he remarked as he rolled off her.

Kat tossed her shorts at his head. “Just make sure you don't do any planting without me. And speaking of planting, can you bring that bag of manure over here?”

Wearing nothing but a puzzled frown, Andrew hoisted the fifty-pound bag of cow dung. Good Lord, but he was a fine specimen. And quite talented. “Where?”

Kat shifted so that her hips were in the air. “Here.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, put it underneath me. I read that you should elevate your hips for twenty minutes afterward to optimize chances of fertilization.”

Andrew settled the bag underneath her, smoothing out his shirt for her to lie on.

“And what scientific publication was this?” Andrew stepped into his briefs and shorts.

“No need to cover up on my account. And actually it was a magazine. They suggested pillows or a rolled blanket.”

He stretched out on the grass beside her. “Ah, so the bag of manure is your own personalized version.” His eyes skimmed her sun-kissed body with appreciation. Kat had always felt comfortable with her body, but Andrew's blatant regard made her feel beautiful, sexy, powerful.

“Consider it a fertilization ritual.”

Andrew threw back his head and laughed. The warm, carefree sound was almost as satisfying to her as the love they'd just made.

“Maybe the pH balance will determine X or Y chromosome.”

Kat giggled at his inanity. “Shut up.”

And in that instant, lying naked in the sun with her hips propped up on a bag of cow poop, Kat realized her plan had gone seriously awry. She'd married Andrew because she didn't expect to be attracted to him.

Instead she stood in serious danger of moving far beyond mere attraction.

This situation really stunk.

R
ETURNING FROM WORK
the next day, Andrew knelt to greet the ball of fur that barreled toward him. He assured himself it was merely in the best interest of his pant leg that he allowed Toto to slop wet doggie kisses on his hand. He'd never gotten around to quizzing Kat on Toto's incontinence. This seemed the safest way to avoid another episode.

Such enthusiasm on the little dog's part dictated some return of affection, he further reasoned. Andrew scratched behind the scruffy ears, reluctant to admit to himself he looked forward to Toto's welcome. He chuckled as he remembered Kat's assurance that Toto had guarded the house on their wedding day. Had it only been four days? In some ways it felt as if Kat and Toto had been a part of his life much longer.

“So, hound, you kept the castle safe in my absence today? How many warring enemies did you keep at bay?”

Toto rolled over and presented his stomach by way of answer. Andrew chuckled at Toto's forwardness.

“Aye, milord, and it's a relief to have you home,” Kat retorted from the kitchen doorway, hands planted on her rounded hips. Sunlight danced behind her, turning her hair into a fiery halo, outlining her shapely thighs through her thin cotton dress.

An increasingly familiar stab of lust besieged him. For a tempting second he fantasized tossing the wench over his shoulder and having his way with her.

Sanity prevailed. Ovulation had come and gone, just in the nick of time. Yesterday at work the memory of their gardening exploits had proved a terrible distraction. And last night's less exotic but equally satisfying lovemaking actually had him doodling on a brief today. He never doodled and certainly never on a brief. Now the only reason to make love to his wife was desire and that wasn't part of the deal.

He rose to his feet, annoyed by his lasciviousness and at being caught in a conversation with a dog.

“Hi. Let me change clothes before dinner, okay?”

Laughter sparkled in her blue eyes. “Take your time. Dinner'll keep. Just don't let Toto tie you up in anything too philosophical.”

Andrew smiled at her wit and then sobered at a jolting thought. “I'm not sure exactly what you two discuss, but you don't need to mention this to Bitsy.” He shuddered to think of her merciless teasing.

“What? That you change clothes before dinner?”

“The dog.”

A smile quirked at her delectable mouth. “Oh, you mean that you talk to my dog. Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of telephoning Bitsy with it.”

“Thanks.” He started down the hall to the bedroom.

“Then I wouldn't have anything to talk about at the reception on Saturday.”

He stopped and turned slowly to face her, aware of the stiffness in his neck that had plagued him all day. “What color's your dress for the party?”

“Royal blue with jewel tones.” She answered without hesitation, then paused, suspicion narrowing her eyes. “Why?” Before he could say anything, she answered for him, her expression clearing. “You want to get a corsage for me?”

He paused for effect. “No. So, I'll know what color muzzle to order.”

Kat sputtered behind him as he continued to the bed
room. Andrew unknotted his tie, pleased at having one-upped his impudent wife.

He dropped his briefcase onto the worn rocker resting in a corner of the bedroom. Mark Antony, his decorator, had designated the house's interior scheme minimalist tranquility. Now, with Kat's things tucked into corners and nooks, he realized that translated to stark.

Since Kat's arrival, his house felt like a home. The room across the hall with his exercise equipment could easily be turned into a nursery. His house was fast becoming cozy and warm.

Andrew scowled at the thought and at the little dog that had followed him. Toto hopped up beside him as he sat on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Dammit, I don't want warm and cozy.”

In the distance, Kat banged around in the kitchen, for all the world as if she belonged there. As if she belonged here.

The thought further tightened his already tense neck muscles.

He'd seen it time and time again among his peers and his parents. Warm and cozy didn't last. He doubted if his parents had ever had warm and cozy between them. Perhaps in the beginning? Certainly he'd never seen a vestige of it in their relationship. With painful clarity he remembered a nanny who'd showered him with affection. At eight, he'd soaked it up like a dry sponge. He'd been devastated when she had to leave to take care of an ailing mother. Oh yes, he'd learned early on to maintain a distance.

Adulthood had merely reinforced his stance. How many colleagues had he seen marry with enthusiasm only to end up in divorce court a few years later? Bitsy and Edward seemed the exception. But they were exceptional. And the loneliness was all the more painful when it was over.

Toto cozied up to him and rolled over, offering up his
warm belly for scratching, and without thought Andrew immediately complied.

If he grew fond of Kat's dog so easily, how would he respond to his and Kat's baby?

 

S
IPPING A GINGER ALE
—her wine cooler days were over until she knew for sure if she was pregnant—Kat lounged on the patio and tried to finalize her curriculum for her summer art students. Or at least she
intended
to think of curriculum. Despite a valiant effort to concentrate, visions of Andrew danced through her head. Andrew tickling Toto and chatting nonsense. The sparkle in his eyes when he'd threatened her with a muzzle. Andrew's naked, hair-roughened chest and tight buns…

She shook her head. She'd better concentrate on her job. If everything went according to plan, she'd have another person to support in the not-too-distant future. She patted her tummy, torn over the desire to already be carrying their child yet hating the thought that if she was pregnant there'd be no more lovemaking.

She'd already listened to one motivational tape earlier today. She'd better dig out another before bedtime, as well.

Andrew joined her on the patio and eased into his chair. He leaned his head against its back and heaved a sigh into the quiet of the evening.

Kat eyed him sympathetically. “Rough day?”

“Yeah. I went up against Jackson today. He's good and he's tough.”

Kat had known the time would come when her husband would go head-to-head with either her brother or father. She loved Jackson dearly, but oddly felt a shifting of allegiance to the man who would father her child. Only because Andrew would contribute genetically, she assured herself.

“Who won?”

“I was better today.” Arrogance, pride and a touch
of humor shaped his grin. “But he's a helluva lawyer. Next time, who knows?”

“Congratulations. For today at least.”

“Thanks.” He winced as he looked toward her.

“What's the matter?”

“I slept wrong last night. My neck's hurt all day.” He admitted.

Kat remembered Andrew rubbing her back until she drifted off to sleep on their wedding night. Placing her ginger ale on the table, she moved to stand behind his chair.

Andrew glanced up at her, or at least as far as his impaired neck allowed. “What're you doing?”

“My mother used to get a stiff neck when she'd spent too much time at her easel. I could always make her feel better.” She positioned her hands on the corded muscles of his neck.

He stilled her by placing his hands over hers. “Thanks, but that's not necessary. I was out of the office today, but Gloria can help me out tomorrow. She's taken care of this for me before.”

Kat's instinctive response rang in her head: It'd be a cold day in hell before she gave the Valkyrie—as she'd come to think of the paragon Gloria—a reason to put her hands on her husband. Even if he was only temporary. And it had nothing to do with jealousy, she reasoned. It simply wasn't circumspect for her husband's secretary to rub his neck. And she'd just discovered a newfound regard for circumspect.

She shook off his hands and slid her palms inside his shirt and over the rigid lines of his shoulders. “There's certainly no need for you to suffer through the night,” she admonished, beginning a rhythmic massage. Oh no, she'd be the one to suffer through the night. Ovulation was over and hence the excuse…uh, reason…to make love with her husband. Anything now would just be gra
tuitous indulgence, leading her close to that precipice of excess for which she was renowned.

Slick, heated satin came to mind as she kneaded and molded his knotted neck and shoulders. The feel of him beneath her fingertips stoked the smoldering fire inside her.

His head lolled forward. “Oh, God. That feels so good.”

His voice poured over her like warm whiskey on a cold night. Kat desperately sought a diversion. Anything to distract her from fantasizing about nibbling those edible briefs right off her husband's gorgeous body.

“Andrew?”

“Yes?”

“We're going to pretend to be married in front of a slew of people.”

“Kat.”

“What?”

“We're not pretending. We are married.”

“You know what I mean. The majority of the people at this reception know more about us than we know about each other.”

“So, what do you want to know?”

“Why'd you become an attorney?” she questioned. She
was
curious. Not to mention desperate to concentrate on something other than mussing the neat edge of his straight, dark hair.

“Just lucky, I guess.” He laughed, a low throaty chuckle. “Some people spend their whole lives trying to decide what they want to be when they grow up. I knew before I graduated from kindergarten.”

Even though they dined together every night, their conversation was never this personal. Other than the mind-boggling lovemaking each night and the goodbye kiss each morning for Mrs. Fitzwillie's benefit, they'd carefully avoided physical contact. In fading twilight, she breathed in the scent of him, a mixture of expensive
cologne and pure, unadulterated Andrew. Kat slid her fingers along his spine, careful not to cross the line from stress-relieving massage to caress, tempting as it might be. She was an adult in control. She could do this.

While he relaxed she was in serious danger of turning to Jell-O.

“Go on,” she said. Andrew as a little boy intrigued her.

“Hmm. I must've been about five and a half when my mother took me to my father's office. She had an appointment with her masseuse or something equally pressing. My latest nanny had just walked off the job, so she dumped me on A.W.'s secretary. The poor woman didn't know what to do with me. She stuck me in the boardroom since it was empty at the time. Portraits lined the walls. Every Winthrop who'd practiced law for almost a hundred years.”

Kat shuddered, envisioning somber-faced men staring down at a small boy. “How awful for you.” She kneaded his shoulder with an extra dose of sympathy.

“Are you kidding? It was great. I knew then that one day my portrait would hang beside theirs.”

His words hammered home how much his partnership meant to him. How steeped in tradition. She rested her hands against the velvet warmth of his skin. “You'd do almost anything for this partnership. It's that important to you, isn't it?”

“It's who I am. It's all I've ever wanted.” His cool voice seemed at odds with the warm flesh-and-blood man beneath her palms. “And, yes, I believe I've proved I'd do almost anything for that partnership.”

Kat inwardly squirmed at her role in “almost anything.” He had power, position, wealth and good looks to boot. Why then did she suddenly feel as if she'd taken advantage of him? As if she'd discovered and exploited his vulnerability? She hastened to reassure herself she'd saved him from Claudia van Dierling.

Andrew pulled away from her touch. “Thanks.” He twisted his head from side to side. “That's much better now.”

She sank into her seat on slightly unsteady legs. “Don't mention it.”

“What about you? How'd you wind up teaching art?”

Kat didn't care whether his question stemmed from genuine interest or if it was merely a polite shift of conversation. She welcomed the change.

“I suppose I inherited it, much the same as you. My mother's a landscape artist. From the time I can remember, she was always working on a canvas.”

“I think I've seen one or two of her paintings. She's very good.”

“Yes, she is.”

“So, why did you decide to teach instead of paint?”

“I love art—it's exhilarating. The colors. The textures. But I also love kids. Watching them learn about themselves through art is an incredible experience.”

Kat peeled the label off her bottle. “I've always wanted children of my own—or at least one child. And I want to be there for them. I don't want to skip dinner because the evening light is just right for painting. Or miss a school play because it coincides with a gallery opening.”

Dusk veiled the day, casting private shadows between them.

“I take it your mother had a different slant on things.”

“Don't get me wrong. Mom's great. And she's always supported Jackson and me in whatever we undertook. But we knew her painting came first.” Kat shrugged. “I happen to think people are more important than careers. If great art comes at the expense of a personal life—which seems to be the consensus among most artists—I'll pass on the great art.”

Andrew acknowledged her viewpoint with a slight
nod. He snapped a leaf off the hibiscus beside his chair and toyed with it between his long fingers. It almost qualified as fidgeting.

“If children have always been a part of your plan—and it sounds as if they have—why didn't you and Devereaux start a family?” Curiosity marked his question.

She'd discussed her and Nick's relationship with a number of friends after he'd left. It had never felt as intimate as discussing him with her current husband. She'd once married a man she thought she loved, only to discover he was a stranger. Now she'd married a stranger she thought she couldn't love…. She slammed the brakes on that particular train of thought.