The Burning Point (11 page)

She should have known that. He'd loved this neighborhood as much as she had.

The thought produced a cascade of memories. It was her friend Rachel Hamilton who had mentioned that a neglected house near her parents' home would be going on the market soon. Kate and Rachel had checked it out together.

The small rancher wasn't much, but the three-acre setting was spectacular. Part of an estate sale, the property could be had for a bargain price by someone willing to settle quickly and accept the house's rundown condition.

Without telling Donovan, Kate had asked her parents for the house as a wedding present. They'd agreed, and the contract had already been signed when Kate had brought Donovan to see the place a week before the wedding. She'd been bubbling with excitement, sure he'd be delighted to have a home of his own.

Instead he'd been enraged. Whirling around, he seized her shoulders with bruising force and shook her furiously as he shouted that he wasn't a damned pet, and the wedding was off.

She'd gaped at him, stunned. Occasionally he'd shown flashes of temper, but they always passed quickly. Usually he was sweet and romantic and easygoing, her dream man.

The incident had been over in an instant, horrifying Donovan far more than her. He'd released her, his face white as he stammered an apology.

She hadn't been hurt, only shocked, and appalled at her own stupidity. Knowing that Donovan was uncomfortable with her family's prosperity and position, it had been idiotic of her to make such an important decision without consulting him.

Shaking, she went into his arms, saying she'd only wanted to please him and would never, never be so inconsiderate again. They would break the contract and live anywhere Donovan wanted. Talking at the same time, he said vehemently that he loved the house, that it was the most wonderful present anyone had ever given him, and he would be delighted to live here forever if only Kate could forgive his horrible temper.

Mutual remorse exploded into passion, and they'd made love on the bare oak floor with raging intensity. Afterward he'd been so tender, so gentle, that she'd been positively delighted with their first major disagreement because it had brought them even closer.

If she knew then what she'd learned later, would she have ended the engagement? Perhaps--but she couldn't be sure, even now. There had been good and bad in their marriage. For better and worse, she was what those three critical years of matrimony had made her.

Resting her gaze on an ice-encrusted shrub, she asked with careful neutrality, "Having you been seeing someone regularly?"

After a slight hesitation, he said, "Yes."

"Would you keep seeing her if I was living here?"

"Do I look nuts? Of course not. Life will be plenty complicated enough without that," he said. "What about you? Have you been dating someone in San Francisco?"

"Yes." She thought of her easy relationship with Alec. "Geography would put a swift halt to that."

As the silence stretched, he said, "It sounds as if you're considering staying."

She bit her lip. Apparently she
was
considering it. Before breakfast, she'd read and reread her father's letter, profoundly affected by his sincerity.

Equally significant had been her mother's observation that the two of them were still being ruled by the past. That had struck uncomfortable chords when Kate thought about Alec and the other men she'd dated through the years. All had been bright, pleasant, attractive--but maybe not emotionally available?

Such choices weren't accidental. Though she'd vaguely assumed that someday she'd marry again, preferably before her biological clock struck midnight, she had made no real progress toward that state. Maybe the time had come to deal with what had been too painful to bear then. Yet the mere thought produced a twist of alarm.

Apparently reading her mind, Donovan said, "If you stay, I promise I won't touch you unless you want me to. Ever."

And he was a man of his word. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that his intentions were always good. "If...anything happened, I'd be out of here in a heartbeat."

"It won't come to that, Kate. I swear it."

She studied him, trying to be objective, as if they'd never met before. Donovan looked exactly like what he was--a strong, no-nonsense man who was equally skilled at business, engineering, and hard physical labor. His dark, silky hair was still on the long side, but it no longer brushed his shoulders. He'd had it cut when he began dealing with clients, though Sam hadn't asked him to. Donovan had worked hard, in small ways as well as large, to achieve the right to command.

But that was on the surface. The internal changes mattered more. Years of success in a tough, demanding business had made him steadier. More confident. The edginess that had fascinated and alarmed her when they'd first met seemed to be gone.

They were both adults. Perhaps...perhaps they could do this. "If you don't touch me and you stop dating, it would be a long year."

"They say that men reach their sexual peak at about nineteen, and it's all downhill after that. Someone of my advanced years should be able to manage twelve months of celibacy," he said dryly.

She sniffed; there was nothing over the hill about Donovan. "Are you sure about that?"

"Neither of us would want to go back to the way things were."

A stunning understatement. Frowning, she drifted across the room. He was absolutely right that their problems had been rooted in sex. So, no sex, no problems, right? Well, maybe. And if problems did surface, she could leave at any time.

The marriage was beyond salvation, but the business was a different matter. "I read the letter from my father last night. He explained why he wrote such a bizarre will, and conceded that he could no longer keep me from working for PDI. He seemed to think that I might want to step into Nick's job."

"Sam was stubborn, but he wasn't stupid. Since Nick left, we haven't had an account rep. You'd be great at that. As an architect, you already understand a lot of the technical end, and I'll bet you're first class at client work."

Yes, she was, but being an account rep was not the dream of PDI she'd had growing up. She wanted to blow up buildings, not spend most of her life on the telephone. This was the chance she'd always wanted.

And if Donovan balked--well, she liked the idea that he'd have to make a hard decision, just as she did. "If I'm to put my life on hold for a year, there has to be something in it for me personally."

"That's only fair." His expression was wary.

Her hands clenched involuntarily as she prepared to go through the door that had opened in front of her. "I'll stay on one condition."

"Which is?"

"That I work for PDI in the field, handling explosives. Just like you."

Chapter 9

"Hell, no!" Donovan exclaimed.

"Do you think I'm incapable of doing the work?"

Recognizing that he was on the verge of falling into very hot water, he said, "It's not a matter of capability, Kate. You're smart enough to do anything you set your mind to. But Sam was right--demolition is no job for a woman. Field work is filthy and exhausting and potentially dangerous."

"Do you think I've forgotten that the business just killed my father? But everything has risks--teaching high school can be more hazardous than working with explosives. You know how much I've always wanted to work at PDI. Now is my chance. I certainly can't move here and spend the next year doing lunch and twiddling my thumbs."

"True. But honestly, you'd be more help in the office than in the field. A large part of being a foreman or project manager is very routine. Drilling holes and ordering around crews of highly politically incorrect construction workers."

Beginning to enjoy herself, she crossed her arms and leaned against the fireplace. "What do you think architects do, Donovan? I've stared down two hundred pound laborers and worn out as many hard hats as you have. Who would know better how to bring down buildings than someone trained to put them up?"

He imagined her giving orders to a hulking laborer, and didn't doubt that she could hold her own. But that was
con
struction, not
des
truction! "Call me a Neanderthal, but the thought of you working with dynamite gives me chills."

"Is it just me, or would you feel that way about any female with a yen for dynamite?"

He almost blurted out that Kate was the one who made him feel so chauvinist, that he couldn't bear to think of her being hurt, but managed to restrain himself. "It would be easier to hire a total stranger for this work than anyone I know. Remember my little cousin Lissie? Connie and Frank's granddaughter?"

"Of course. How is she? I haven't seen her since her first communion. What a sweetheart she was."

"She is now two inches taller than you, tops in her class at Western High, and won't answer unless called Melissa. Her current ambition is to go through the same Loyola College engineering program I took, then come to work for PDI so she can blow things up."

Kate laughed. "You'll have to come to terms with your wimpiness sooner or later, so it might as well be now. You've always had a reactionary streak, but you're a generation younger than Sam. You're not incapable of accepting females as equals."

"Easier in theory than practice." Donovan remembered a casual coed softball game the first summer of their marriage. He had been pitching while Kate, a darned good infielder, was playing second base. She'd just caught the ball to make an out when the runner, a big guy called Denny, got so carried away by the excitement of the game that he slid into her hard, trying to knock the ball from her glove. Kate was thrown a half dozen feet and knocked breathless.

When Donovan saw her lying motionless on the ground, he went crazy. He raced off the pitcher's mound, shouting, "Kate!
Kate
!"

Gasping for breath, she managed to sit up and assure everyone that she wasn't seriously damaged. Fear allayed, Donovan spun around and slugged Denny with a force that nearly broke the other man's jaw. "You bastard, you know damned well there's no sliding in this kind of game!" He was swinging again when Kate and two other players pulled him away from the cowering, apologetic Denny.

He calmed down quickly, mostly because he hated to see the alarm in Kate's face, but he was left shaken by the intensity of his reaction. That day he had recognized how primitive and powerful was the desire to protect one's mate. The compulsion to defend his loved ones was as volatile and dangerous as nitroglycerin--and now Kate wanted to implode buildings. He supposed it was karmic justice coming home to roost.

His thoughts were interrupted by Kate saying, "It's your decision, Donovan. If you and I have to be under the same roof every night, that means business trips together, so I might as well make myself useful. Agree, and the firm will be yours. Refuse, and you'll have to choose between starting your own business, or becoming a hired hand for Bud Marchetti."

Torn between exasperation and reluctant admiration, he said, "You're Sam's daughter to the core. Pig-headed and hell-bent on getting your own way."

"Which means I should be darned good at demolition."

Kate was right, unfortunately. With proper precautions, working with explosives wasn't unduly hazardous. Hard to remember that when Sam had just died in a freak accident. "You've got yourself a deal, Kate. Just remember that I'm the boss, and I expect you to obey orders like everyone else in the firm. This business is too dangerous for you to go off half-cocked on the basis of your childhood memories."

"I'll be a model employee."

"I doubt it." But though his words were dry, inside he wanted to turn cartwheels. She was going to stay! Through the grace of God and Sam Corsi, he had the chance to redeem past sins--and sweat blood as Kate learned the fine points of explosives.

∗ ∗ ∗

On the drive back to the Corsi house, Donovan and Kate discussed practical details. She estimated that it would take her two weeks or so to sort out her affairs in California. Then she would return to Maryland. To his house.
Their
house.

In the meantime, he could work on his will-power. Prepare himself to see a sexy, sleepy-eyed Kate over the coffee grinder every morning, and to hear that warm, seductive voice in the office and on job-sites.

His mind continued to churn after he dropped her and Oscar off. He remembered all too clearly her expression when she'd learned that Sam had offered his future son-in-law a summer job at PDI--exactly what Kate had yearned for. She reacted as if she'd been slapped. Unable to bear her wounded eyes, he quickly said he'd turn Sam down.

Kate had swallowed hard, and said that wasn't necessary. Her father's refusal to hire her had nothing to do with Donovan. He wanted to work for PDI as much as she did, and the generous salary would be very welcome. Since they were getting married, they had to be practical.

He'd been delighted, and selfishly relieved, to have her permission to take the job that he desperately wanted. Not only had he been fascinated by explosive demolition, but he was panting to adopt Sam as a surrogate father. Kate, never a sulker, had buried her disappointment and found herself a summer internship at an architectural firm. On the surface, his work at PDI had never been an issue. But he'd always been uncomfortably aware of how much he'd benefited from Sam's chauvinism.