New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (24 page)

“What in the world did you ever see in her?” Claudia's surgically enhanced bosoms and jutting hipbones came to mind. “Never mind. Don't answer that.” Kat peered past his shoulder. “It's your turn to meet the in-laws. Dad and Phoebe just arrived. And let me tell you, Phoebe elevates bitchiness to new heights.”

 

“G
LAD YOU COULD MAKE IT
.”

Rand Hamilton possessed the handshake of a dead fish—limp and slimy—Andrew decided, fighting the urge to wipe his palm down the side of his trousers.

“We would have come to the wedding, too, but we weren't invited.” Phoebe Hamilton's tone dripped with saccharine sweetness.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Phoebe. But we wanted to keep it simple.”

Andrew admired the way Kat handled Phoebe, Claudia and his mother—graciousness with an edge. An exceptional woman, his temporary wife.

“I must say, you two are quite the odd couple. Katrina's always been somewhat…shall we say, eccentric,” Rand drawled down the fine line of his nose.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You know exceptional people often are.” Andrew's look dared Rand to dispute him.

“Handsome, rich and clever. However did you man
age, darling? Well, never mind. Let's just hope you can keep this one.” Phoebe smiled, a barracuda swathed in silk as she raised a glass of champagne in a mocking salute.

Rand Hamilton's wife
did
elevate bitchiness to new heights. Made Andrew reconsider that there just might be someone for everyone in the world.

Color washed Kat's face. She might have bargained a name for her baby, but when they divorced she'd face a host of unkind comments if Phoebe proved any barometer.

Moving behind her, Andrew bracketed Kat's shoulders with his hands and eased her against his chest, trying to absorb some of the tension radiating from her. Her untamed hair tickled against his chin, and he breathed in the citrus shampoo she favored.

“Frankly, Mrs. Hamilton, I'm honored a woman of Kat's caliber was ever interested in me.” Sincerity marked each word, scorching him with the truth. He'd been married to his career for a long time, and he'd lived with his emotional detachment even longer. Kat stirred feelings in him he thought had withered and died long ago.

Beneath his fingertips, some of the tension eased from Kat's shoulders.

“We trust you don't have any plans to embezzle,” Rand observed with a clever smile.

“Or run off with your secretary,” Phoebe added.

Andrew felt Kat's flinch.

Phoebe portrayed contrived dismay. “Oh dear. I guess you didn't tell your Andy about Nick taking his secretary with him when he skipped the country with his millions. I never would have mentioned it had I known.”

“Nick Devereaux is a son of a bitch and deserves to have his ass kicked one day.” Andrew's tone left no doubt he knew just the man for the job. And he meant every word.

Rand and Phoebe Hamilton gaped.

Kat gasped and muttered, “Take a number.”

Andrew continued. “I'd appreciate it if you'd bear in mind that I don't like being compared to Nick. In fact I don't particularly like to hear his name mentioned.” He smiled his most charming smile to the speechless couple. “If it's all the same to you, of course.”

His gaze locked with Kat's and he felt ten feet tall at the surprise and admiration reflected in her eyes. Nick wasn't just a jerk, he was a stupid jerk.

“Look, honey, here comes Juliana. I guess she's over that highly contagious strep throat if Eddie and Bitsy brought her, huh?” Kat asked with feigned concern.

Juliana was as healthy as a horse, make that a small pony, but he noted the look that passed between Rand and Phoebe.

“Actually, I think she's still a little under the weather, but the baby-sitter backed out at the last minute.” He leaned in toward the Hamiltons confidingly. “Good help is so hard to find.”

Now there was a topic Phoebe could relate to—woes with the domestic help. Fortunately she was too repulsed by a sick child to embrace that soapbox. “Absolutely. Rand, darling, I believe I see Senator Bertram over there. If you'll excuse us…”

Rand and Phoebe beat a hasty retreat at the threat of impending germs.

“Well done, my dear. Masterful, in fact.”

Kat glowed at the compliment.

Juliana concluded her march across the room—a six-year-old with a mission. She stopped before them, curiosity dancing in her brown eyes.

“Hi, there. Everything okay?” he asked. Juliana stared at him as if he were a bug under a microscope.

“I'm not sure yet. Could you pick me up, Uncle Andrew?” Juliana's thin, reedy voice held a note of worry.

For a split second, Andrew looked to Kat for insight. She shook her head, shrugging her puzzlement.

“Sure. I can pick you up.” He reassured Juliana as he hoisted her in his arms. “What's the matter?”

Juliana's gaze darted between him and Kat.

“Do I need to leave, sweetie, so you can talk to Uncle Andrew alone?” Kat offered softly.

Juliana weighed the question. “No, it's okay.” With a determined thrust of her little chin, she began tugging at Andrew's shirt.

Andrew started in surprise, nearly dropping her.

“I knew Mommy was wrong. Daddy too, 'cause he said she might be right.” A snaggletoothed grin split her face. “All your buttons are still on real tight. Mommy told Daddy you weren't buttoned up so tight since you'd married Aunt Kat, but you are too.” She gave his shirt another yank to prove her point.

Andrew threw back his head and laughed, uncaring of the curious glances sent his way. At his shoulder, Kat leaned against his arm and chuckled. Juliana giggled for good measure.

Although Bitsy's runaway mouth had caught up with her, he realized it was true. If Kat walked out tomorrow—make that
when
she walked out in the next year—he wasn't so sure he'd ever be the same man he'd been before.

He wasn't so sure that's what he wanted anymore. From the moment he'd spotted her behind the sculpture in the lobby of his office building, his life hadn't been the same. He'd never been one to crave excitement, but since Kat, the world somehow seemed brighter, more vivid. Until Kat, he'd lived life though a filter.

Closing his eyes for a second, the noise of the party faded to nothingness. Andrew felt with crystal clarity the extent of what he had signed away. At that moment in time, it could have been seven years in the future. The
child in his arms could be his and Kat's. They could be a family sharing a joke.

He opened his eyes and focused on Juliana's freckled nose, the loss of what he'd never have facing him.

“Uncle Andrew?”

Kat's eyes met his, every vestige of humor replaced by a soft understanding. Andrew felt as if she'd stripped away his covering and gazed at his bared soul. And instead of allowing him to rewrap himself in his blanket of ice, Kat sparked a tiny flame.

Impatient with his lack of response, Juliana pressed her nose against his, cutting Kat out of his vision and making him go cross-eyed. “Why do have that funny look on your face?”

He leaned back until he regained his focus and then smoothed Juliana's hair with an unsteady hand. “It's nothing, girlo.”

“Can I get down now? I want to tell Mommy and Daddy you're still all buttoned.”

Everything he'd ever wanted—and those things he'd thought he didn't—seemed within his grasp. The prestige and power of a partnership in his family's firm. This maddening, delectable woman as his wife. A child. A family.

In the far recesses of his mind, for a fleeting second, he questioned the pecking order of the things within his grasp.

Juliana wiggled again, breaking his reverie. He released her with a quick wink. “You do that. But tell them it's a new shirt.”

As Juliana raced off to set her parents straight, Kat's smile blew across him like a warm breeze off the Atlantic. “I like your new shirt. It fits you very well.”

And the spark she'd ignited in his soul grew a little brighter.

“T
HEY SEEMED LIKE
a nice couple, but that's it. No more lawyers tonight. I've met my quota.”

The last of Andrew's fellow attorneys from the firm wandered off and Kat sagged against Andrew. His low chuckle whispered against the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Speaking of lawyers, where's Jackson?”

“His goddaughter's christening is this weekend in Detroit.” For the first time, Kat mourned the fact that her daughter or son would be without a father. Not just any father, but Andrew. Seeing him with Juliana this evening had her longing for a future that was out of the question. Tears threatened at the back of her throat.

She and Andrew had signed an agreement. And even if she disregarded that agreement, Kat still didn't know if she was willing to take a chance on him. Being wrong about Nick had been hard. Being wrong about Andrew…she didn't think she could recover. She also didn't know how she would find the strength to leave when the time came.

“Too bad he couldn't be here tonight, but maybe he can come over for dinner one evening.” Andrew threw out the invitation casually.

Surprise momentarily silenced her. He'd just suggested dinner plans as if they were a normal couple.

“That would be nice.”

“Good.” He glanced around the room with a sharp eye. “I think we've made the rounds with all the guests. Come on, there's someone I want you to meet.”

Andrew threaded his fingers through hers. The faint rasp of a callus against her palm awakened an increasing familiar craving inside her, as he tugged her in the direction of the kitchen.

“The caterer?” she hazarded a guess.

“No. Gloria.”

“The Valkyrie!” Kat all but stopped in her tracks.

“No. Not Valerie. Gloria.” Pulling her along, he spoke slowly and distinctly, as if she were hearing impaired rather than hormonally challenged. “What's the matter?”

“Maybe I've had enough of buxom blondes for one evening.”

With an upward quirk of his black brows, he dragged her along. “Then it's a good thing we're going to meet Gloria instead of Valerie, whoever she is.”

Kat considered refusing. She'd face Claudia any day rather than Gloria. Andrew might have dated Claudia casually, but he respected Gloria. Claudia had never been anything more than a burr under her saddle. But Gloria—brains, beauty, efficiency
and
respect.

She might have initially selected Andrew for his great genes—and okay, the view wasn't too bad, either—but she'd come to respect him in the past few weeks. Respect counted for a lot. As if embezzling millions hadn't been enough, Nick had taken his secretary along for the ride. His betrayal had shouted his lack of respect for all the world to hear.

How could she have a baby with this man if he didn't respect her?

She stopped in her tracks, yanking Andrew to a halt, as well.

“What the…?”

She lowered her voice while waving across the room at the wife of a retired general she'd met earlier. “Do you respect me?”

“What?”

“I said, do you respect me?”

“What kind of idiotic question is that to ask in the middle of our reception?”

“Are you avoiding an answer?”

“No. Of course, I respect you. I told your parents earlier I'm lucky you'd even consider me.”

“Well, we don't have an audience now.” Kat glanced around at the otherwise engaged couples.

He trailed a finger down her cheek, setting parts farther south aquiver. “I'm very aware of that. I admire how you decide on something and then make it happen.” His grin wreaked havoc with her equilibrium. “Like marrying me.”

She wanted to let out a whoosh of relief but opted for casual instead. “Okay. That's good to know.” She started to slip away.

Andrew blocked her retreat with his arm. “Now, why don't you tell me what this is all about?”

“Well, I know you have a tremendous amount of respect for Gloria…”

“Of course I do. She's—”

“I know. Blond, beautiful, brainy and efficient.”

“Now where did you pick that up? Never mind. Let me guess. Bitsy.”

“She mentioned it. After I asked.”

Andrew shook his head. “Kat, don't you know you can hold your own against any woman?”

Her knees threatened to buckle at his tender assertion. Her composure suffered more when he twined his fingers through hers, brushing his lips against the back of her hand. “Now, come on, honey. I've got a big surprise for you.”

They'd almost reached the door leading to the kitchen when it opened and a short, stout woman with gray hair bustled through.

“I was just coming to find you, Mr. Winthrop.” The
singsong voice could have belonged to a much younger woman.

“And we were intent on finding you. Gloria, this is my wife, Kat. Kat, meet Gloria Stuart, my right hand.”

Kind brown eyes regarded her from wire-framed glasses. “Pleased to meet you Mrs. Winthrop.” Gloria Stuart pumped her hand.

“Please, call me Kat. And it's a pleasure to meet you. You did a lovely job on the party. I can see why Andrew thinks so highly of you.”

Relief swamped her, dismayed her. She shouldn't care so much that Gloria Stuart was Aunt Bea with a secretarial degree, instead of a Valkyrie. It shouldn't matter.

But it did.

 

“K
AT
, I
NEED YOUR HELP
.”

Anxiety deepened the blue of her eyes. “What's the matter?”

Andrew turned his head carefully, wincing at the white-hot pain the simple movement sent shooting up his neck. “It's my neck. I turned wrong a minute ago and it feels the same as it did the other day, only worse.”

Asking for help didn't come easy to Andrew. He'd learned early on to make his own decisions, his own opportunities. But with Kat it felt different. It felt right.

“Sure. Let me see if I can help. Why don't we go over there?” She indicated the alcove with velveteen drapes obscuring the recessed area. Her glance swept the dancing couples, the conversation clusters scattered throughout the room. “Otherwise we're likely to cause a stir if I give you a rubdown here.”

Andrew also scanned the crowd, easing his entire body around without turning his neck. “Our fathers are competing to see who can outnetwork the other one, and our guests are flattered at having the heads of the best two law firms in the city vying for their attention. Prob
ably no one would even notice, but let's go over there just to be safe.”

Right! As if sharing a small, darkened space with Kat, her magical fingers touching him, constituted safe.

He slipped into the curtained recess behind Kat, his body tightening as he anticipated her small hands moving over him. The sound of their shallow breathing filled the tiny nook. Her womanly scent wove around him, enveloped him.

Andrew pulled the curtain behind them while Kat unfolded a metal chair leaning against the wall. “Here. Have a seat.” The breathless tremor in her voice indicated she shared his awareness of the tension flowing between them.

Andrew plopped into the chair. Probably the only damn thing wrong with his neck was the stress of not giving in to the craving for his wife that grew every day.

Kat moved to stand behind him and tripped, grasping at the lectern crammed next to them to catch herself.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to steady her with a hand at her waist.

“I'm fine.” She wedged between the back of the chair and the wall. His head fit neatly in the valley of her silk-covered breasts. Exquisite torture.

“Do you have enough room?” He rasped.

“It's sort of tight, but I can still use my hands.” Her touch burned through his clothing. She began to work on his muscle.

“Mmm, can you move a little to the right?” Her fingers were truly magic. He groaned his relief. “Yeah, that's better.”

“I don't know how much I can take care of here.”

“Whatever you can do. Right now it's so stiff it hurts, but it's already feeling better. If you can just relieve it a little now.”

Something niggled at Andrew, hovered on the periph
ery of his consciousness, but with his senses so befuddled by Kat, he brushed it away.

“Oh, that's it. That feels good.”

“It's not too hard? I don't want to go too deep.” She eased off the muscle a little.

“No, you could even go a little harder.”

The problem was she was too darned short. Slipping off her shoes, she sought a foothold on the metal folding chair.

“If I could just get on top of you a little more.”

She grunted slightly as she hoisted herself up. She could really work those muscles in his neck now.

“That feels better to me. What about you?”

Her fingers pressed deeper into the muscle, her palm kneaded. “Mmm, that's much better. I don't think you'll have to touch it when we get home. It's not even stiff anymore.”

“Andrew? Kat?” Bitsy's disembodied voice called from the other side of the curtain.

Kat's hands stilled.

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure, uh, exactly what you two are up to in there, but I thought you needed to know you're on the PA system.”

“The PA system?” Kat echoed.

Jumping up, Andrew bent over the lectern, a microphone attached to it. A red light glowed on the underside, indicating the PA system was indeed turned on. It must have happened when Kat stumbled against it. He felt along the flexible stem of the microphone dangling over the front of the lectern and pressed the button. The red light clicked off.

Dead silence reigned. No music. No muted conversation. No clink of silverware and glasses. Nothing.

“Wireless remote microphone.”

Snatches of remembered conversation floated between
them…
let me get on top…can I go deeper…it's not stiff anymore.

“This is bad. This is not good.” Kat croaked, still atop her chair, wedged between the wall and the lectern.

Andrew rubbed his brow. “It could've been worse. We could've said something incriminating about our agreement. God knows what we could've said about our parents.”

He mentally replayed the last few minutes of conversation.

“Instead, three hundred people think they just heard us…”

“Yes. I know what they think.”

Reaching for a handful of velvet drapery, he checked with Kat. “Ready?”

 

“I
STILL SAY YOUR MOTHER
falling down in a faint was overkill!” Kat kicked off her high-heeled pumps at the kitchen door and flexed her toes in relief.

“Claudia offered smelling salts and condolences.” Andrew shrugged out of his jacket.

“I personally thought that was uncalled-for.” Kat rummaged through the freezer until she snagged a virgin carton of Chunky Monkey. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate this evening?”

Andrew loosened the knot of his silk tie, his long fingers coaxing the folds of the pliant material. Kat quelled a wolf whistle and silently encouraged him to continue disrobing. Her hormones were on a feeding frenzy.

“Definitely a ten for sheer entertainment value. I don't think any of our guests were bored. God knows what they'll expect at the Christmas party.”

Christmas. Five months. By that time she should be pregnant and he should be a full partner. “When can you expect your partnership?” She rooted around for a walnut.

“I've got a meeting scheduled next week to discuss it. Your eating habits really are deplorable.”

Kat grinned at his insult. A week ago she would have been affronted. Tonight she was merely encouraged. Somewhere beneath his vanilla preference beat the heart of a Chunky Monkey man.

She savored her bite before responding. “Dairy and fruit. Two of the four food groups.”

“Kat, there are six food groups.”

“Only four are essentials. Dairy—preferably ice cream. Fruit—preferably in ice cream. Protein—peanut M&M's. And chocolate.”

Andrew leaned across the tile-topped island, his warm breath belying his cool exterior. “Darling, I hate to break it to you, but chocolate does not qualify as a food group.”

Even the faint sarcasm tinging his “darling” couldn't quell her shiver of delight at his endearment. “It's all a matter of perspective.”

The click of doggie toenails on the tile floor heralded Toto's arrival. Ignoring Kat, he pranced over to Andrew. Kat cast a baleful eye on the pair. “So, I guess I'm chopped liver now, eh, Toto?” Actually, she couldn't much blame the little traitor. She'd had some powerful urges to fall at Andrew's feet more than once in the past week.

Toto whimpered at the back door. Andrew opened the door for Toto and turned to face her, lines of tension etched across his forehead.

Kat scooped a bite of ice cream. “It's good to be home.”

His cool regard searched her face. “Is that how you feel? Like this is home?” Kat thought she detected a hint of longing in his smooth voice.

“Yes.” She hadn't realized it until that moment, and the truth surprised her. “It does feel like home here.”

She had no idea whether her admission appalled or delighted him. If it delighted, he excelled at hiding it.

“You don't miss your condominium?”

“Not really. It's nice to mess around in the potting shed. And Toto and I both enjoy Anton's and Mrs. Fitzwillie's company.”

A flash of loneliness in the depths of his gray eyes transformed him from a successful, confident man to a small boy no one had made time for. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned to contemplate the night through the glass door.

“Good, I'm glad.”

Kat didn't stop to consider the ramifications of her actions. Instead she responded to his bleak expression. She tossed the carton of ice cream onto the island. Nothing seemed as essential as her husband at that moment. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging the solid wall of his back, inhaling his scent. She felt the loneliness cloaking him as surely as she felt his tight muscles beneath her cheek, echoing her own soul-deep loneliness. God knows the price of honesty, but she couldn't run any longer from whatever simmered between them.