The Burning Point (28 page)

"Just for the record," she said, "the man I've been sleeping with for the last year or so is named Alec."

"I didn't need to know that."

"He's a terrific lover. Surprisingly playful for a financial wizard. We would rip each other's clothes off. Give names to favorite body parts."

She stopped beside Donovan, so close they were almost touching. "Sunday mornings were best. Food and sex and the
Chronicle
. The sex was even better than the Belgian waffles. Alec was really good with syrup. He used to--"

"Stop it!"
Donovan sprang up, catching her upper arms to save her being knocked over by his sudden movement. "What are you trying to do, Kate? Provoke me into proving I'm as bad as you remember?"

"Maybe that
is
what I want. Then
...
then I'd have an excuse to fight. To yell and scream and be furious." Her voice sounded shaky.

"That is
crazy
. Damned if I'll help you prove how worthless I am." He let her arms go and took a step backwards.

Her anger crumbled into stark misery. "He said he loved me, Patrick. He never told me before because he knew I didn't want to hear it. There could have been so much more between us, but I wouldn't allow it. Couldn't even
see
it! What's wrong with me that I can't love, or let a man love me?"

He pulled her onto the deep sofa, holding her as she sobbed. "You're capable of love,
cara
." He smoothed back her silky hair. "Endless, selfless, generous love. Maybe the ability is in deep freeze for now, but it can't have disappeared. It's part of you."

He thought about Val, and how he'd been blind to any possibilities in that relationship. For two allegedly smart people, he and Kate had made a mess of their lives.

As Kate's agitation faded, he became uncomfortably aware of how much he wanted to continue holding her. The curve of her body against his was as familiar as his own heartbeat. He rubbed her back, feeling the tension ease.

Sensual awareness flared into life, taut and unmistakable. His pulse quickened, sending hot blood through his veins. He held very still, wondering what would happen if he gave her a gentle kiss, or if his stroking hand moved to one of her well-remembered curves. She was lonely, craving comfort...

A flickering spark of sense held him in check. Even if she was willing, he'd be a damned fool to act. And, of course, he'd promised not to touch her, though it was hard to remember that when she had come weeping into his arms.

He held still a moment longer, feeling the siren call of her body. The prospect of burying himself in her, of mating with the woman who had imprinted his soul, was almost unbearable. Perhaps intimacy would bridge the chasm that had separated them for so long.

No.
During their marriage, sex had been the icing on the cake and the Band-Aid that covered the cracks, but it had never solved an underlying problem. It wouldn't now. If they were to have a future, their minds must meet before their bodies did.

Besides, he didn't want to be the villain again, which he would be if he took advantage of her distraught state, and she regretted it later. Exhaling roughly, he disentangled himself and moved to the far end of the sofa. Trying to keep his voice even, as if they were involved in a continuing conversation, he said, "First love is easy, Kate. Mostly instinct. But you were badly burned, and need to learn how to love again. As your mother said, we both have to come to terms with the past, and move on."

She straightened up, her nose endearingly pink. "I'm open to suggestions on how to do that. Do you have any?"

"We started this spend-a-year together business locked in old boxes. You didn't want to be touched, bent, folded, spindled, or mutilated. And I..." He shook his head, unsure how to explain.

"And your box was...?"

"Hating myself, and tired of it."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant for either of us. What do you suggest as an alternative?"

"Demolish the boxes. Allow the future to be full of possibilities, not dead ends and emotional land mines."

"Possibilities," she repeated, her voice soft.

For a moment he considered telling her that he still loved her, but instinct warned him that it was too soon. Any fragile understanding they might achieve tonight would be crushed by the weight of a declaration.

Instead, he laid his left arm along the back of the sofa so that his hand rested on the middle cushion. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, jerkily, Kate reached out and placed her hand over his, her slim fingers cool.

He laced his fingers through hers undemandingly.

Possibilities.

Chapter 25

Being home in her own bed should have given Kate a good night's sleep, but it didn't. She awake lay in the dark, feeling like an onion whose outer layers were being peeled away one by one. Alec's whispered declaration of love had been deeply unsettling. Clearly he had hoped for a response, but she couldn't reciprocate.

She'd misjudged their relationship, and misjudged him. Just as Donovan had said later, she'd been locked in a box.

In the darkness, her face burned at the realization of how close she had come to hurling herself at her former husband. When he held her, she'd felt like she had come home. If she had signaled that she was willing, the odds were high that he would have taken her up on her offer.

They would have had a brief, passionate interlude that drowned her misery--and gone from the frying pan to the fire. While Alec could scramble her emotions, Donovan was capable of annihilating her. She had known that any degree of physical contact between them would be lethal, and she'd been right.

Those aching minutes of closeness had brought every sensual, intoxicating memory of their marriage to life. Now she must deal with a renewed physical attraction that could not be buried again while Donovan was so much a part of her life.

Her gaze moved over the shadowy shapes of her bedroom furniture, each with a story of discovery and rehabilitation. Her home had been her project and sanctuary. And as carefully as she had remodeled her home, she had constructed a calm, comfortable life in San Francisco that was pretty as a doll house, and about as real. For years she had been drifting, avoiding emotional risks, her deepest feelings reserved for her brother and the easy, nurturing bonds shared with her female friends. Safe.

Once she had been afraid of nothing. A sign of youth and inexperience. Then she had learned about fear, and retreated from life. Become a victim, God help her.

Even though Donovan had also avoided making a new commitment, at least he had faced hard truths about himself. He was behaving more like an adult than she.

It was another dismal thought. Behaving with calm maturity was a very important part of her self-image. She didn't like having to acknowledge that she had been more numb than mature. But at least she
could
acknowledge it.

Sighing, she felt for Ginger Bear's warm shape against her side. He made a small feline chirruping sound as she stroked his back. No wonder people had pets. All you had to do with a dog or cat was give it food and uncomplicated affection. So much simpler than maintaining relationships with people.

She'd unconsciously put Alec in the same category with Ginger Bear--a pleasant companion, good to sleep with as long as it was mutually convenient. But while Ginger, faithless feline, was perfectly content to bed down with the house's new tenant, humans did not recover so quickly.

She rolled onto her side, her body curving around the cat. Why the devil did growth have to be so blasted uncomfortable?

∗ ∗ ∗

After the temperate winter of Nevada and San Francisco, Maryland was cold enough to freeze vital body parts off a brass monkey. On the way back from the airport, Kate and Donovan stopped by her mother's house to say hello, and so that Kate could commandeer a winter coat.

Julia was glad for the visit, hugging them both warmly. Despite the shadows under her eyes, she invited them for dinner and produced a large container of coq au vin from her well-stocked freezer. Probably she'd been cooking up a storm as a hedge against grief. Kate had a second serving, along with the mental note that Julia's coq au vin was one heck of a good coping mechanism.

By the time they pulled into the garage on Brandy Lane, Kate was yawning. "All this traveling has kept me in a continuous state of jet lag for over a week."

"There aren't any trips scheduled for the next month. Today Luther started prepping Concord Place. You can work there under his supervision whenever you haven't got office work."

He pulled both suitcases from the back of the vehicle and carried them into the house. She didn't object. The previous night's discussion had brought them to a new level of ease. Besides, it was no longer possible for her to play Ms. Self-Sufficient when she'd broken down in front of him. The memory of that sent several kinds of heat beating through her.

She took off the hooded black wool coat she'd gotten from her mother and went to her room to unpack her suitcase. As she gathered her laundry, the phone rang. It was immediately picked up by Donovan.

Several minutes later, he appeared in the doorway of her room. "That was Chief Stanski, the investigator from the fire marshal's office. Still no conclusions about Sam's accident. Stanski wants to question me again tomorrow about some of the things that don't add up."

"I suppose they might never find a definitive answer." She picked up her laundry basket. "Do you have anything to be washed? I'm going to do a couple of loads now."

"That would be really nice. I'll get my stuff and bring it along in a minute."

She carried her clothes to the laundry room, which lay between the garage and the kitchen. The oak kitchen cabinets and state-of-the-art washer and dryer were a great improvement over the dismal basement area she'd used a dozen years earlier. It was hard to be enthusiastic about laundry when dodging spiders.

Balancing her dirty clothes with one arm, she opened the door and felt for the light switch. Before she could find it, a furry missile rocketed from the darkness, brushing by her arm. An instant later, howling creatures raced past her ankles. Caught by surprise, she yelped and jumped backwards, dropping her laundry.

Hearing her cry, Donovan came to the rescue in seconds. "Kate?"

Shaking from shock, she hid her face against his shoulder. Warm. Solid. Alarmingly desirable.

"Was there someone out there?" He glanced through the darkened laundry room at the window, which faced into the woods.

Telling herself to get a grip, she stepped away from him. "No. I...I just opened the door and some creatures roared out. At least two clipped me. No damage, but I was so startled I almost jumped out of my skin."

"What kind of animals? Bats?"

"It happened so fast I didn't see. Squirrels, maybe, or large rats."

"I came from the bedrooms and didn't see anything, so they must have gone into the kitchen."

They checked out the kitchen and dining room. Nothing was amiss. Donovan flipped on the living room lights, revealing three feral cats. A tabby cowered in the corner while a calico and a skinny black and white cat darted away from the intruders.

Donovan closed the kitchen door behind them. "These guys just want to get out. You stay here while I open the sliders."

Opening the door admitted a blast of bone-chilling air, but the cats figured out the strategy as soon as Donovan moved away. One by one they tore outside, across the deck, and down the steps into the night.

He asked, "Is that the lot?"

"I think so. I feel silly for panicking over three cats, but at the time I felt like I was being assaulted by rabid weasels, or worse."

"Who would expect raiders in the laundry room?" He closed and locked the door.

"It gives me a lot of sympathy for our hunter ancestors. What if those cats had been saber tooths? I'd have been dinner. Speaking of which, those poor kitties are skinny as rails. It's been so cold. Do you have any cat food?"

"My supply of canned tuna should take them through the night. Tomorrow I'll pick up a couple of bags of dry cat food."

Kate had always fed hungry strays. Ginger Bear had been a scrawny street cat when she adopted him. While Donovan set off to find how the cats had broken in, she opened two cans of tuna and set the fish outside in shallow bowls, hoping the cats found the meal before it froze.

Then she returned to the laundry room, on the way collecting the basket Donovan had dropped when she screamed. She was just setting it down when he emerged through the basement door, opposite the laundry.

"They're ingenious beasts," he reported. "They managed to get into the furnace room by taking out an outside vent. Then they ripped up some insulation and got into a nice warm duct." He gestured across the laundry room. "This vent was a little loose, so they knocked it out and moved into the laundry room. They've probably been coming and going for days."

"Cozy." She glanced around. A set of folded towels on top of the washing machine showed a basketball-sized dent. Obviously someone had been sleeping there. That must have been the cat who'd brushed her arm as it leaped for safety.