The Burning Point (35 page)

But she wasn't. She was Kate. Fudging, he said, "If the man was a novice at this work, I might."

"I really, really doubt that. Protectiveness is normal and it goes both ways, but I can't accept it on the job. It's not that I'm panting to have a building fall on my head, Patrick. But if I'm going to do this work, I have to do
all
of it--the routine, the boring, the fun, and the scary. Otherwise, I might as well go back to San Francisco."

Once he would have done his damnedest to lay down the law. She'd almost fallen down an elevator shaft in Las Vegas, for God's sake, and that had been as safe as a demolition job could get. But if he was to have any kind of future with Kate, it must be built on new foundations. He would have to accept her as an equal, no matter how much he hated the thought of her in danger. "All right, Kate, you win--you work under the same conditions as everyone else. Just don't take any foolish risks, macho woman."

"No,
sir
."

Her smile was almost worth the knowledge that she would be risking her neck.

Almost.

∗ ∗ ∗

A major aftershock hit. The structure shifted, groaning, and Kate lost her footing in the treacherous rubble. Terror spiked through her as she hit the floor, chunks of plaster banging her hard hat and bruising her ribs and shoulders. God in heaven, the building was coming down on her! Was this how Sam had felt in the instant before he died?

Kate came awake with a jolt. For an instant she was disoriented. Then the angle of the morning sunshine told her that she was home in Maryland, safe, after an intense week of work in Mexico. During the quake's terrifying aftershocks, she'd had trouble remembering why she'd been so hell-bent on proving herself equal to anything. Only a damned fool would volunteer to go into the crumbling death traps of La Casa Miranda.

But the work had to be done. She'd spent much of her time sweating and making mental deals with God. After grueling sixteen-hour days, she was fit only to stumble back to the hotel, shower, and fall into bed.

And yet, Kate wouldn't have missed that job for anything, for she'd mastered her fears, and the payoff had been sweet. Maybe the rush of exhilaration produced by surviving danger was the reason policemen and firemen and soldiers did what they did. By the end of the week, she'd felt an intense camaraderie with her co-workers that must be rather like the experience of sharing foxholes together.

She'd also turned out to have her father's gift for predicting how damaged structures would come down. Donovan had been impressed. She'd also learned that there was a healing sense of catharsis in demolishing structures that had seen great sorrow.

But now she was home on a sunny Saturday with a pile of laundry to do. Whistling softly, she swung from the bed and headed for the bathroom.

After a long shower, she dressed and ambled into the kitchen. Wearing jeans and a blue shirt, Donovan was grinding beans to make coffee.

She halted in the doorway, struck by the sight of his taut back and neck. Once she had known that splendid body intimately--the hard jut of shoulder blades, the taper from broad shoulders to narrow waist, the salt taste of warm, smooth skin. She wondered what it would be like to cross the room and slide her arms around his waist the way she had done in the days of their marriage.

Damn her father! He'd known that living together was very different from working together.

Donovan glanced over his shoulder. "When I went out to get the paper, I found that spring arrived while we were in Mexico. Forsythia bushes are going crazy all over Ruxton, and daffodils will be opening any second now."

"Maryland has such wonderful springs. I missed the dramatic seasonal changes in California." She headed toward the refrigerator. "The Mexican job was really interesting, but the more business travel I do, the more I appreciate being home."

"Savor this weekend, then. On Tuesday, we go to Atlanta for three days or so."

She groaned theatrically as she opened the refrigerator. "How about some eggs scrambled with sausage and one rather depressed looking green pepper that has survived from last week, but only just?"

"Sounds good. Then,
cara mia
, we're going to play hooky."

"Come again?"

He held the coffee pot under the faucet and turned on the cold water. "It's going to be one of those gorgeous early spring days where the temperature will shoot up to eighty, everyone will throw their sweaters away, and the local journalists will swarm down to the Inner Harbor to get pictures of pretty young things in tank tops."

"Does that still happen?"

"It's a journalistic rite of spring. Then in a day or two the temperature will turn cold again, and people will dig out their sweaters, complaining bitterly that it isn't really summer yet."

"It's reassuring to know that local rituals persevere. But spring will have to get along without me today. I've got a ton of things to do."

"The laundry can wait. In the past week you've put in eighty to a hundred hours of work. For the sake of your mental health, you need some play time, and this is too lovely a day to waste."

"Since you put it that way..." She began cracking eggs. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I'll get out the bike, and we can go down to Annapolis."

Kate knew darned well what that meant: roaring through the hills with bodies touching, the sexy vibration of the Harley pulsing through them. He'd always had a motorcycle, and in the good days of their marriage they'd loved riding on it together. Invariably a bike trip had led to lovemaking. She hesitated, doubt in her face.

"The state legislature finally passed a mandatory helmet law. Remember how we used to think they never would?"

"You sure know how to bait a hook, boss. Okay, we'll take advantage of premature spring by surrendering to an attack of adolescent fantasy." The Mexico City job had taught her that taking risks could be worthwhile. Maybe it was time to take a few in her personal life.

Chapter 32

∗ ∗ ∗

It was a day made in heaven. Kate threw her head back and laughed with pure delight as they roared along a back road in Anne Arundel County, a few miles outside of Annapolis. A week ago, nothing could have gotten her onto a motorcycle with Donovan, but now it seemed like exactly the right thing to do.

In some ways, so little had changed. The hard waist she clasped, for example. Or the sexy intimacy of the two of them alone in the wind. Definitely an adolescent fantasy, and a damned good one. She could almost imagine that they were newlyweds still, with not a cloud in their personal sky.

They drove into the historic district, the three-century old heart of colonial Annapolis, and left the Harley in a parking garage. For Kate, the sight of the narrow streets and old buildings was another homecoming. The capital of Maryland, Annapolis was a funky mix of tourists and Navy personnel and politicians. She drew in a lungful of delectable spring air. "This was a great idea, Donovan. I love Annapolis."

"What's not to love? It's pretty, educational, and full of great shops and restaurants. Something for everyone."

"But small." They entered State Circle, a loop of street with the statehouse in the middle. It's a scale model state capital."

"A triumph of quality over quantity. No one else has a statehouse where George Washington resigned as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army."

"Spoken like a true Marylander," she said, smiling.

The scary part was how much she felt like a Marylander herself. When she moved to California, she'd assumed it was a permanent transplant. Now, older and wiser, she recognized how deeply her roots were sunk in this small corner of the world. Her mother's family had been in Maryland for centuries; her father's parents had come impoverished from Italy, and embraced their new home and its opportunities with passionate gratitude. Both family histories were part of her.

A pair of midshipmen from the academy, band-box neat in their crisp navy blue uniforms, passed them walking in the other direction. Under her breath, Kate said, "They look so
young
. A sure sign that I'm not."

"Speaking of young, do you know the first time I ever visited Annapolis?"

"I don't think you ever told me. I imagine that your parents brought you down when you were a tyke. Or was it a school trip?"

"It was with you."

She stopped and stared, causing a group of tourists behind her to swerve abruptly. She remembered that occasion very well. A couple of months before their marriage, they'd come down on the bike, wandered around, had lunch. Just like the plan for today. "You never visited the state capital, an hour from your home, until you were nineteen?"

"Strange but true." Lightly he touched her elbow and got her moving down Main Street toward the waterfront. "Annapolis is a rich man's town. Look at what it's known for--politics, sailing, the Naval Academy, historic preservation. Upper class interests, except maybe for politics. It just wasn't on my parents' mental map. We'd drive right by on our way to Ocean City."

"When we were married, I thought I knew you as well as myself. Now I'm continually learning how little I knew. On our first visit, it never occurred to me that you were a stranger to Annapolis. It certainly didn't show."

"I spent the evening after you suggested a visit studying a map of the town and talking to a friend who'd lived a less insular life. I was afraid you'd decide you were marrying beneath yourself and change your mind. That was part of the reason I worked so hard to look and talk like someone with a more educated background."

"Occasionally I was surprised by things you didn't know, but then, there was plenty that you knew and I didn't. I guess social barriers look a lot less important to someone like me who never had to worry about them," she said. "You seem to have gotten over that particular shoulder chip. How?"

"It was gradual. I owe a lot to Sam, of course. With him I never felt as if I had to pretend to be more than I was. At work, I became more confident as I gained experience. After five or six years, I got to the point where talking to Pentagon generals and company presidents didn't put me into a flat panic anymore."

"Competence is a great creator of confidence. And you've picked up a lot of polish over the years. You don't sound like blue collar Baltimore now." Not that she'd ever minded when he did. In fact, she kind of missed the Hell's Angel, but she understood Donovan's need to fit into the world he married into. She'd been lucky; growing up as both Carroll and Corsi had made her feel at ease everywhere.

"In the small world of explosive demolition, I'm an expert. Very good for my working class ego. In most ways I'm comfortable with myself. Except where you're concerned."

"Is that because of class, or guilt?"

"Guilt, definitely. Class isn't an issue anymore."

"If there was a market for selling guilt, we'd all be rich. But everyone is a seller, no one wants to buy."

"What do you feel guilty about, Kate?"

"For being a coward. For running away from the hard things."

"I've never known you to take the easy way out. You're the one who walked over to say hello at Sam's funeral, not me. You insisted on going into buildings that could have collapsed at any time."

"In both cases, I was scared out of mind."

"Which made your actions brave. You're avoiding the question, I think. I wish I knew what really bothered you about yourself."

She drew a deep breath. "You get points for being willing to reveal some of your darker layers, Donovan. I admire that. But I have neither the desire nor the intention of doing the same."

"That's nothing if not honest," he said, his voice dry.

Honesty was one of the few virtues she could claim. Conversation lapsed as they reached the market at the foot of Main Street. At Donovan's suggestion, they lunched at a second-story restaurant that overlooked the City Dock. Kate's good mood returned as they laughed and talked and watched the yachts and the throngs of people enjoying the day. Donovan really was first-rate company. Smart, funny, well-informed.

Perhaps it was the glass of wine she had with her meal, but she began to wonder how she'd react to Donovan if they'd met for the first time when she started work at PDI. Take away their complicated, tortured past, think of him as a new acquaintance who was teaching her a demanding, exciting new job.

God help her, she'd be halfway in love with him. The realization made her stomach knot. He was still--again--the most attractive man she'd ever known. There was nothing sexier than a man who laughed at her jokes, the way Donovan did.

If they really had just met, she would be calling her friends, describing the mental, physical, and emotional chemistry, and speculating endlessly on whether she'd found the love of her life. How appalling to realize that she was still a raving romantic at heart.

She flipped a coin with him for the privilege of paying the check. She won, and he didn't even try to change her mind. The caveman had become positively liberated.

In the sunshine again, they walked the block to the visitors' gate that led onto the campus of the Naval Academy, the same route they'd always taken when rambling through Annapolis. The academy was surrounded by water on three sides, so the next step was to walk around the perimeter. Kate shaded her eyes to look at the distant sails of pleasure boats on the bay, glad that the city and the waterways that gave it life hadn't changed since her last visit.