New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (25 page)

“And you. Toto and I have grown accustomed to you. We enjoy your company. Late suppers at twilight. Back rubs in the dark.”

His heartbeat thundered against her cheek; his harsh breathing, loud in the silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. Slowly he turned to face her, her arms still wrapped around him, bringing them into intimate contact.

Kat tilted back her head to search the gray morass of his eyes, but he'd effectively shuttered whatever he felt. His hand drifted along her jaw to tangle in her hair, leaving her trembling in the wake of his caress. He lowered his head until the hard line of his mouth hovered above hers.

“And what happens when you leave, Kat? Because you will. We both know it.” The warm intoxication of his breath tickled against her skin as the harsh stubble of his beard scraped, mirroring the dichotomy within her. She felt like shouting for joy and crying from melancholy, all at the same time. Dammit to hell, she'd made the deal to leave, but she wasn't so sure of that path now.

“I don't know anymore,” she whispered against his lips.
“Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.”
She pushed past his cool, crisp shirt, not content until she contacted the warm flesh that was Andrew.

“Seize the day, trust the least possible to the future,” he translated as his hand tightened in her curls and the other explored the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. “I don't think either one of us can do that, since the future is why we're here.” His eyes glittered with a hunger that defied further suppression. “But I fully intend to seize the moment, because if I don't kiss you right now, I think I might die.”

The rough want texturing cool, calculating Andrew's voice excited her. She flicked at the corner of his mouth with her tongue, savoring the taste of his skin. “That won't do at all—” she no longer knew where her breath ended and his began “—since you've yet to make partner.”

“Contrary to your book, a good lawyer's a terrible thing to waste,” he murmured before his lips spanned the millimeter separating them, effectively ending further coherent thought.

 

A
NDREW DRAGGED HIS MOUTH
away from the luscious fullness of Kat's as they cleared the bedroom door. “I have one request.”

Kat ripped away the few remaining buttons she hadn't conquered as they'd kissed their way from kitchen to bedroom. Pushing aside the starched fabric, her small
hands feathered his bare skin, further intoxicating him. He felt drunk from the taste and feel of her.

“Yes?” Her husky purr brought to mind any number of additional requests. Her fingernail scraped against the hardened nub of his male nipple, the sensation arrowing straight to his groin.

“The green T-shirt. Put on that green T-shirt.”

Her hand stilled its exploration. “The lime-green one?”

“The one you've worn every night for the past week.”

Despite her evident uncertainty, she walked to the bathroom. “The green?”

He enjoyed the alien surge of reckless abandon invading him, compelling him to make love to his wife for no good reason except driving, mind-stupefying want. “The green.”

She closed the door between them and he quelled his impatience. He knew he should seek out and don his customary detachment. Like a man tossing back one too many drinks, he knew he'd regret his glib indulgence in the morning.

Kat emerged draped in the enormous, hideous T-shirt.

What the hell. He was destined for a Kat Winthrop hangover.

He rounded the bed in answer to the question in her eyes, advancing until her erect nipples brushed against his bare chest. Taking her hand in his, he moved slowly until her palm rested full measure against his straining erection. “I want you to know the effect your green T-shirt has on me.”

Her eyes widened once again as she cupped his obviously undiminished arousal. Her curves arched into him in full appreciation. “Oh, my.”

He slid his hands under the cotton shirt, impatient for the silk of her thighs and the rounded curve of her fanny that had kept him up so many nights—literally. He'd
had any number of beautiful women and none had ever threatened his control like his wife.

His entire life had been one ongoing exercise in emotional restraint. Intellectually, he knew Kat was a means to an end. Emotionally, he felt she might be the meaning to all ends. And physically, he planned to immerse himself in her silken warmth until he satisfied her beyond reason.

 

K
AT WRAPPED HER LEG
around Andrew's well-formed thigh and sighed from the pure bliss of sexual satisfaction. She reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a package of chocolate-covered raisins.

“Exquisite. Extraordinary,” she breathed, sinking back against the pillows, mired in a delicious languor.

Andrew arched a lazy, relaxed brow as she tugged open the cellophane candy wrapper. “Good chocolate?”

She curled her foot against the back of his knee, popping a raisin into her mouth. “The chocolate's okay. The…that…us…just now.” She stumbled around her explanation. What they'd just experienced went beyond great sex. Andrew, with his tenderness and enthusiasm, had restored her feminine self-confidence that Nick had eroded throughout their marriage and finally stripped with his defection. And this time there'd been an emotional honesty between them. Unlike their previous lovemaking, there'd been no hiding behind ovulation and sperm counts.

A queer jolt flip-flopped inside her at Andrew's smug grin. “Don't you know it's considered bad form to comment on performance?”

His relaxed teasing was heady stuff. She nibbled at the chocolate shell coating on the candy until it cracked. The sweet richness melted against her tongue. She and Andrew had been honest with each other from the beginning. Their truthfulness was one of the exhilarating components of their lovemaking.

“I'd say it's bad form to let such a spectacular performance pass without proper accolade.” The last word slipped out on a breathless note as Andrew traced a circle on the slight mound of her belly.

“It was an honor to rise to the occasion.” A slight shifting of the sheet indicated a second occasion in the making. His hand traveled up to trek maddeningly against the soft underside of her breast. “Of course, I did have sublime inspiration.”

The dusky tips of her breasts tightened in response to the swift, slick heat brought on by his words and his touch. Kat arched against his hand. “Sublime?”

His tongue teased the corner of her mouth. “Absolutely sublime.”

She tossed the empty candy wrapper over the side of the bed and laid claim to his mouth hovering above hers. If she'd just defined sublime, she was ready to redefine it.

He withdrew his mouth and faced her with awe. “You ate all the candy, didn't you?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She ever so gently commandeered him onto his back. With all his beautiful, male splendor stretched out before her, she kneeled over him, reveling in his visual caress. She tasted the sweat-slicked skin of his stomach as her hand explored his well-muscled thigh. Her voice thickened to a husky murmur as her hand drifted upward and her mouth moved to meet it. “I'm a woman given to indulging in excess.”

Andrew's deep groan expressed his appreciation of that tendency.

“T
HINK OF IT AS AN
organ donation of sorts,” Andrew argued. He found it downright frightening that he was beginning to not only understand but anticipate Kat's logic. He knew convincing her to get rid of her junk heap and drive the Volvo was going to take some smooth talking.

“I just can't bear to think of strangers disassembling Carlotta. We've been through a lot together.” Kat's genuine distress brought him to the couch. He leaned over the back and rubbed the spot on her shoulder he'd discovered in the past week.

“Carlotta's old and tired, honey. And think how many cars can be kept on the road because of her.”

Kat glanced up at him suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Absolutely not. I'm just trying to find a solution that works for everyone.” He refrained from adding that it'd be over his dead body that she ever placed herself in that wreck again.

He felt her shoulders relax as he rubbed lower. “I could arrange for you to ride with the tow-truck driver if you want.” He'd initially thought her attitude toward her old bomb plain nutty. Now Kat's loyalty and capacity for caring overwhelmed him. She would make their kid a terrific mom. And he'd begun to believe he might make a pretty okay dad.

She sniffled. “Thanks, but I think a clean break might
be for the best. I've been driving Charlemagne, and Carlotta looks so sad every time I pass by her.”

He didn't ask. He knew. She'd christened the purple station wagon Charlemagne.

“I think that's a good idea.”

Fessing up about that clause in the contract would be an even better idea. In hindsight, Andrew realized he should have negotiated the point up front. He should have worked out a compromise so that he had rights to the baby, also. His deception was going to cost him in her emotional trust and the longer he delayed the higher the stakes.

“Kat, there's something else we need to talk about—”

The doorbell chime cut him off in mid-sentence. Someone had lousy timing.

“It's two o'clock on a Sunday afternoon. Who could this be?” he muttered as he stamped to the door.

“Jehovah's Witnesses?” Kat offered.

Andrew checked the peephole. A couple caught in a sixties' time warp stared back from the other side. “I don't think so.”

He opened the massive door, and the woman launched herself at him. “Son!”

Behind him, Kat jumped to her feet. “Mother!”

 

“I
T'S THE NINETIES
, not the sixties. New Age, not hippies,” Kat explained while squirting cheese from a tube on a cracker. Raising her voice, she called out, “We'll be just a minute, Mom, Vince.”

“Take your time, baby. We're just absorbing the karma.”

Andrew smirked at the karma comment. “What about these matching love beads for a wedding present?” He fingered the necklace dangling about his neck.

“Crystals. They're crystals, not love beads.” Kat
licked a glob of gooey cheese off her finger. “And I think it was a lovely gift.”

“I agree. It gives a whole new meaning to wedding crystal.” Andrew arranged the bottled seltzer on a tray. “Crystals—the gift that keeps on guiding.”

Kat snickered. “Bring your crystal and that seltzer and let's get back out there.”

Kat's mother and stepfather were in the den, busy soaking up karma like a pair of New Age sponges. The pair beamed beatifically while Kat and Andrew settled the trays.

“So, dear, we not only wanted to bring you your wedding gift, but we wanted to let you know how your numbers came in.”

“What numbers?”

“Why, yours, and Andy's.” Marcia laid out a chart, glowing at them like an oracle of good fortune. Vince maintained his meditative pose on the floor.

Kat tugged a still-puzzled Andrew onto the love seat beside her. “Remember, Mom's into numerology.”

“Right. My birthday.”

“I ran yours and Kat's.” Marcia looked up from her charts to shoot them a coy look. “You've got some
very
good numbers together.”

“How long have you been involved in the study of numerology, Mrs. Stevens?”

Kat recognized the attorney tone. Andrew was going somewhere with this, she just wasn't sure where.

“Right after Rand and I got a divorce. Too bad it wasn't before we got married. But then I wouldn't have my two wonderful children, so I guess I don't mean that. But I've studied numbers for about twenty-five years. And the numbers don't lie. Mom. Call me Mom. According to the numbers, we're going to be family for a long time, son.”

Kat indulged her mother because she loved her, but she figured Marcia would be just as well off interpreting
tea leaves. Vince continued to stare off into space. Even for Vince, he was acting weird. “Uh, Mom, is Vince okay?”

Marcia waved an airy hand. “Sure. He took a workshop on trance channeling in California. He's been trying for days.”

“Did you run the numbers on Nick?” There was nothing subtle about Andrew's question. Good thing she was already sitting down, because his question floored her.

“Does ginseng have a root? Of course I did. That Nick, he was a bad number. A very bad number. Made me wish the numbers were wrong, but of course they never are.”

Kat was shocked. “Mom, you never mentioned it. Are you serious? Nick's numbers came up bad?”

“Some of the worst I've ever seen. I'll tell you, it took some heavy-duty meditation to work through that.”

“Why didn't you warn her?” Andrew's question held a hard edge.

Kat wished he'd remember this was a conversation, not a hearing. But it was rather sweet that he seemed so indignant on her behalf.

“Our children don't always make the choices we'd like, and the only true recourse is to accept them graciously and be prepared to stand by them when the bottom drops out. If I'd told Kat she'd picked a bad number in Nick, do you really think it would have swayed her decision to marry him?”

Two pair of eyes pinned her for an answer. Kat remembered her desperate resolve at twenty-one to live up to everyone's expectations. She'd also fancied herself in love. Her answer came swift and sure. “Absolutely not.”

Something flickered in Andrew's eyes at her response before he resumed his cool demeanor.

“That's what I thought. My headstrong little girl
would've told me to find some tea leaves to read and gone about her merry business.”

A guilty flush climbed up Kat's neck.

Marcia winked at her knowingly before turning her attention to Andrew. “One day when you're a parent you'll know what I mean. You'll go through the same thing with your kids.”

Kat mentally noted the reference to kids. Emphasis on the
s.
Plural. As in more than one.

“Kids?” Andrew's stunned voice echoed her reaction.

Marcia beamed. “Kids. I don't want to take the surprise out of it, but it was in the numbers. And it doesn't matter a whit to me that big families are out of vogue these days.”

Kat couldn't stop the thrill her mother's words brought. She'd always wanted her own little brood. That's why having this one was so important. She couldn't imagine her life without a child. Somewhere along the way she'd tripped herself up and now she couldn't imagine herself without
Andrew's
child.

His eyes met hers. Behind his dubiousness lay a spark of tender excitement.

 

“Y
OU'RE SURE YOU
don't mind if they stay the night,” Kat asked as she helped Andrew scout out blankets and pillows.

“I don't mind them staying over. It's just not clear to me why they can't avail themselves of a guest room.” Kat's mother and stepfather were entertaining and charming but pushing the weird side. And how the hell could he talk to her about his clause in their contract if he had in-laws bunking down with them? Not that he was looking for an excuse to put off an explosive topic.

“I know. But when Mother decides the karma's good in a room, there's no changing her mind.” She opened the laundry room door. “How about in here?”

Andrew quirked a wry smile. “I guess good karma's hard to find these days.”

Kat laughed, an undercurrent of sexuality sparkling in her eyes. Andrew tucked away a mental note card—his wife found humor arousing. Maybe they'd spend next weekend in bed watching the comedy channel.

They both squeezed into the confines of the laundry area. Kat's hip brushed against his thigh, throwing his body and imagination into overdrive. He came up with a new use for the ironing board mounted on the wall. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't even have an imagination. And if he did have one, it'd never encompassed ironing boards.

Kat explored a row of narrow shelves. “Bingo!”

Laughing over her shoulder at him, Kat bent forward to select a pillowcase from the bottom shelf. Andrew's erection swelled further. He framed her delectable derriere with his hands and pulled her backward, until her soft curves met his jutting angles. She wriggled against him. Not in protest, but enticingly. Still pressing against her from behind, in blunt, straightforward terms he outlined his plans for her, him and the ironing board.

Kat's breath came in ragged, short gasps as she arched her back, much like a cat soliciting attention. He slipped a finger past the leg of her shorts and the elastic of her panties to find her soft woman's folds. Moist heat slicked his finger and he slid in another one.

With his fingers, he fondled and rubbed against her core. She mewled softly and thrust herself against him. Andrew thought he might explode from her unrestrained response. At that point, bringing her pleasure seemed the most important and natural thing.

Bending his head, he traced the shell of her ear while his fingers plumbed her. He shared with her in a low growl how much he enjoyed touching her. His hardness nestled against her soft bottom told its own story.

He felt the magic tension coiling tighter and tighter
within her as he stroked against her core until she exploded, drenching his fingers with her nectar.

When her shudders subsided he turned her around to face him, bracing her between his thighs. She slumped against him as he pressed kisses into her rioting curls. He ached to sink himself into her honey-drenched warmth.

“What planet is this?” she murmured huskily. “No wonder Claudine was so uptight when you married me.”

Exuberant at her obvious pleasure, he tilted her head back to meet her dazed expression. “Claudia.” He sobered. “And it's never been this way with anyone else. Only you.” And he knew it never would with anyone else.

A lazy, dreamy smile lit her generous mouth at his assertion, but it was quickly followed by a stricken look. She reached between them to touch his unrelieved tension. “Oh, no. What about you?”

Andrew gritted his teeth and removed her well-intended hand. “Just get your mother and Vince settled as quickly as possible. Tell them I got an important phone call.”

“Andrew, the phone hasn't rung.” The little minx shot him a cheeky grin as she seemed to regain her equilibrium. “I'll tell them you had an important call to make.”

Leaving him where he was, she scooped up the linens and made for the door. She leaned forward and brushed her full mouth against his, her tongue foraging swiftly. “Meet me in our room in ten minutes. And where's that underwear Bitsy gave us?”

And then she was gone.

Ten minutes to more ecstasy.

 

“T
HAT GIRL IS MAKING
a goddamned spectacle of all of us. Get rid of her.” A.W.'s order filled Andrew with a cold fury. Nonetheless, he leaned back in the leather
club chair with an air of nonchalance. His Monday morning meeting regarding his partnership was off to a less-than-stellar start.

“That's my wife you're talking about. Not a piece of furniture you object to.” He stared his father down across the massive desk.

“Not much of a difference really. Think of wives as accessories, like a membership in a good golf club. They enhance who you are—show the world what you're made of. Why the hell do you think I spend so much money on keeping your mother looking good?”

His father's philosophy was nothing new to him, but suddenly he found himself sickened by the attitude.

“I love her.” What should have been an act came out as the gut-wrenching truth. Inwardly he reeled at the impact of the revelation.

A.W. smiled condescendingly. “Andrew, my boy, you're thinking with that head between your legs, and it never makes good business decisions. You're like me, son. You were born to practice law. You love it just like you love the power and prestige that goes with it.”

His father's words struck a chord. He did love his work and everything that came with it. Since he'd been a small child, it had defined him. His adolescent fantasy had been his name on that brass plate downstairs. With desperation, he held on to his feelings for Kat. “Don't talk about my wife that way. I love her.”

A.W. dismissed his assertion with a wave of his hand, as if it were a pesky gnat. “Infatuation. It'll pass. But this firm's been here for ninety years. It's your heritage—it's in your blood.”

“I don't want to talk about Kat anymore. I want to talk about my partnership.”

“Ah, but the two are intertwined.”

“You wanted me married. I am. Now announce my partnership.”

A.W. stood and paced behind his desk, his hands
clasped in back of him. “I'd like to. I really would. There's just one problem.” He stopped pacing and faced Andrew. “You made a bad choice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You joined the wrong country club, son. You bought a suit off the rack when you should've had one custom-made.” His eyes were flat and cold despite his jovial tone.

Andrew quelled his instinct to knock the supercilious look off his father's face. “You've gone too far. You've always been manipulative, but I never expected you to be a cheat.”