Читать книгу Marry Me, Kate - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Kate wasn’t pleased with the shock in his voice. The man was a snob, just like her Aunt Lorraine, who hated the diner. Anger warred with despair. She needed his money. Desperately. Otherwise, she would never have agreed to have a business discussion in a social setting.

“I’m quite serious, Mr. Hardison. I have figures to show you that support my intentions.”

He pulled into a parking lot that encircled the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art and stopped by the front door where a valet waited to park his car. It wasn’t until he reached her side after circling the vehicle that he responded.

“Either I’m thinking of a different kind of figure or they don’t amount to much, Kate. Because I don’t see where you could’ve hidden any more of your figure wearing that dress.”

The steamy stare that swept her from her toes to her shoulders, or perhaps a little below her shoulders, told Kate there wasn’t much hope for a business discussion. This man had his mind on other things.

Stiffening her shoulders, she raised her chin and waited until his gaze finally left her breasts. “I’m asking for a loan, Mr. Hardison, not selling myself. A business discussion is what I want, not...not a seduction.”

Though his cheeks reddened, he looked down his nose at her as if she were a common bug that happened to intrude in his path. “Of course. That’s my intention also.”

He took her arm, a touch that Kate felt all over, and led her toward the door, immediately opened by an attendant. Standing just inside was a receiving line of gray-haired women dressed in elegant, floor-length gowns, adorned in diamonds and pearls. Their escorts wore tuxedos, like Hardison’s.

Kate hid an inner groan beneath a smile. She’d occasionally attended such social events with her aunt Lorraine. And hated every minute of them.

The first lady stared at her in horror, as if unable to believe her eyes, and Kate quickly glanced down her person, afraid something was amiss. Her short black dress was certainly less formal than their gowns, but she was decently covered.

When she raised her gaze, she saw her escort bend over and kiss the woman’s cheek.

“Evening, Mother. I’d like you to meet Kate O’Connor. She works at The Lucky Charm Diner on Wornall Avenue.”

The woman’s face paled, and she wavered on her high heels. Kate feared they’d be picking her up off the floor any minute. And wondered if William Hardison had intended that result with his invitation.

After all, it hadn’t been necessary to mention the diner at all, much less make it sound as if she was working for minimum wage. Though minimum wage might be an increase in her income right now.

“I—I—how do you do?” the woman finally warbled, sounding as if she had a tickle in her throat.

“Fine, thank you, Mrs. Hardison.” Kate pretended a lack of interest in the woman’s distress, hoping she would understand that her accompanying the woman’s son was an impersonal thing. “Your gown is lovely.”

The woman’s gaze trailed down Kate’s figure, as if she intended to return the compliment, then thought better of it. “Thank you,” she muttered and dropped Kate’s hand.

The man next to Mrs. Hardison instantly grabbed Kate’s fingers and lifted them to his lips. Kate wasn’t fond of hand kissing, but having lived in France for four years, she wasn’t stunned by his action. His devouring stare bothered her more.

“Absolutely stunning, Miss O’Connor. I hope you’ll save me a dance. I’m Count Ryzinski.”

She supposed his affected speech was meant to imply he was European, but Kate didn’t believe it for a minute. She slipped her hand from his with no comment.

William Hardison’s arm slid around her waist and he introduced her to the next dowager in line. Distracted by his touch much more than the count’s kiss, Kate couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

Not that it mattered.

She wouldn’t see any of them after tonight, whether she got her loan or not. Unless, of course, they became future customers.

Will kept his hand on Kate’s waist, enjoying the feel of her. She might not be dressed as elegantly as the elite of Kansas City, but she shouted sex appeal.

And he was a healthy man.

The count, one of his mother’s hangers-on, appeared to be healthy, too. Too much so. It irritated Will that the man had kissed Kate’s hand, though it hadn’t seemed to bother her.

As they continued down the receiving line, he discovered every man introduced to Kate was affected by her curvaceous figure.

He wanted to punch them all out.

As soon as they’d finished the introductions, he took her arm and pulled her in the direction of the serving tables. “Let’s get a drink.”

A waiter stepped in front of them with a tray. “Champagne, sir?”

Will grabbed two glasses and handed one to Kate.

She calmly set it back down on the tray. With a smile to the waiter, she said, “I’d prefer mineral water. Is it available?”

The waiter acted as if he’d been given a commission of greatness. “I’ll bring it to you personally, miss,” he assured her, a hungry grin on his lips.

She thanked him and he hurried away, an almost full tray in his grasp, ignoring the people who were waiting to be served.

“You’re dangerous,” Will murmured.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Try not to ask for any more favors. I’m afraid half the men in here will fall on their faces rushing to serve you.” He noted the flash of anger in her eyes with satisfaction. The more off balance she felt, the more outrageous she’d behave.

And the more upset his mother would become.

“Will! Where have you been lately, buddy?” a male voice called out.

Will turned to see John Larabee, Jr., an old school chum, approaching. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Jack had always chased the most beautiful women, and Kate was easily in that category.

“Hello, lovely lady,” Jack added as he reached Will and Kate. He took Kate’s hand in his and held it.

“Good evening,” Kate said coolly and tugged on her hand.

“Let her go, Jack.”

Both his companions stared at him, Kate with indignation in her gaze, and Jack with a considering look. However, Jack didn’t bother to let go of Kate’s hand.

Kate tugged on her hand again. When the man didn’t immediately release it, she took Will’s champagne out of his hand and calmly poured what was left down the front of Jack’s tuxedo.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How careless of me,” she said, a sweet smile of concern on her lush lips.

Jack stared at his tuxedo in horror, but he also released Kate’s hand. “You—you—that—” he sputtered, wiping his shirtfront and glaring at her at the same time.

Several people around them, apparently having watched the brief scenario, gave gasps of disapproval and moved to console Jack, a favorite with the elite of Kansas City.

“That was very rude, young lady,” a blue-haired dowager snapped as her husband offered a handkerchief to Jack.

“Oh, I quite agree,” Kate said calmly, “but you know how some men are. They just can’t behave themselves.” She smiled and then excused herself and moved toward the service table.

Will closed his gaping mouth, swallowed a chuckle and followed in Kate’s wake. This evening was going to be more fun than he’d ever had before at one of his mother’s events.

“A bit extreme, but effective,” he whispered in Kate’s ear as she looked over the hors d’oeuvres.

“Thank you,” she replied calmly, never lifting her gaze from the table.

Just as he decided she’d earned her interview, his mother arrived, outrage on her face.

“William! Is it true? Did this—this woman pour champagne on Jack?”

Kate, holding a plate with various hors d’oeuvres on it, turned to look at his mother. “Is Jack a friend of yours, Mrs. Hardison? I hope he’s not upset by my little accident. If he’s concerned about the champagne staining—”

“Young woman! I heard it was no accident!” She turned so that Kate was facing her back and looked at Will. “I cannot believe you would bring such a social misfit to our gala!”

Will had hoped the young woman would disturb his mother, but he hadn’t expected such a scene. Even so, it wasn’t fair for Kate to be treated so harshly. Without even thinking, he leapfrogged several unexplained steps in his plan and circled Kate with his arm.

“Why wouldn’t I bring her, Mother? Kate and I are to be married.”

Several glasses crashed even as Miriam Hardison slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

The silence in the car was deafening as William Hardison drove Kate home. After his mother fainted, pandemonium had reigned. Kate had taken the opportunity to sample some of the hors d’oeuvres, knowing her departure was imminent.

Even as Mrs. Hardison regained consciousness, several dowagers remonstrated with the root of all the problems, William. Kate listened to their impassioned words as she watched her escort’s expression. As his jaw squared, she stepped forward.

“William, dear, I’m ready to leave. Shall I call a taxi?” As if she could afford such an extravagance. “I’ll understand if you want to stay with your mother.”

At least he wasn’t dumb, she decided with relief. His glare told her he got her message loud and clear. She was leaving, with or without him.

“No, I’ll take you home.” He turned to the slumped-over woman, her head resting on the count’s shoulder, bravely sipping champagne. “Mother, I’m taking Kate home now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a response, he’d taken Kate’s arm and strode from the museum.

She’d wondered if he’d explain, though she couldn’t think of any explanation that would justify his behavior. She hated being used, especially to upset someone. She might not enjoy the company of society ladies, but she didn’t wish them any harm.

When he drove in silence, offering nothing to account for his behavior, she silently said goodbye to her dream. After all, there hadn’t been much hope anyway. They wouldn’t sell the diner, but she’d have to take another job and save until she could carry out her goal.

Without the rude man beside her.

He pulled up to the diner and parked the car, then opened his door.

Kate didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t necessary to escort her to the door. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t listen to reason. She’d already figured that out.

Of course, she was curious about what had made him agree to an interview in the first place. But it didn’t matter. That possibility had gone the way of so many other plans.

“Good night, Mr. Hardison,” she muttered as she reached for the front door of the diner.

He opened the door and then entered behind her. She was suddenly grateful for the few customers lining the counter and the curious Madge.

“We haven’t had our talk,” Hardison said quietly.

She spun around to stare at him. “You never intended one, did you? After tonight’s events, I assume your only interest in me was comic relief.”

“I never expected...the situation deteriorated faster than I...I want to apologize for my mother’s rudeness.”

Kate stifled the gratitude she felt for his effort. “Very gracious, since you caused the problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Hardison. And I don’t appreciate being used.”

“I didn’t—”

“Have a good time, hon?” Madge called, reminding Kate that every person in the diner was staring at them.

With a brief smile, Kate turned. “A lovely time, Madge. Is Paula working in the morning?”

“Yep, as usual.”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Without ever turning around to speak to her escort, Kate headed for the double doors that swung into the kitchen.

She’d only managed one step when a strong hand grabbed her arm.

“We haven’t had our discussion.”

“As I pointed out earlier,” she said coldly, turning to glare at him, “I’m not an idiot. Whatever this evening was about, it wasn’t business.”

Kate O’Connor was right about one thing. She wasn’t an idiot, Will decided as he admired her snapping hazel eyes and flushed cheeks. And she was a beauty.

And she’d more than proved his theory.

“I promise you I intend to discuss your, uh, business plans. I’ll give you my full attention for one hour and you can show me those figures you said you had prepared.” Not that he expected anything that would make a lick of business sense. Not if it had to do with the ramshackle diner.

She didn’t grab the opportunity he offered. Instead she planted her hands on those slender hips that had drawn his gaze more than once and stared at him.

“Why?”

Of course she would ask. “Because I keep my word. You fulfilled your end of the bargain. Now it’s my turn.”

He found it fascinating to watch the changes in her expressive eyes as she considered his statement. Then she looked over her shoulder at their audience.

“Go on. Give him a chance,” one customer, an older, unshaven man urged with a grin.

“Billy—” she began, then stopped. She turned back to stare at Will, her eyes narrowing.

He knew the instant she made up her mind and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, the thought of ending their acquaintance tonight bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

“All right, Mr. Hardison. I’ll take your one hour. Come on.” She spun on her heel and headed toward a back booth in the diner.

Will frowned. He didn’t want to conduct business in the diner. With an audience. Hurrying after her, he said, “Don’t you think we could find a better place for our discussion?”

Like her bedroom.

He immediately shut down that errant thought. Business. He needed to think about business. But it was hard when he was following her trim figure encased in tight black, her red hair sparking as it moved with her.

“No.”

Brief and to the point. He’d already learned she was direct, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. “Okay,” he agreed with a resigned sigh and slid into the plastic and Formica booth opposite her.

From the small black purse she’d carried with her all evening, she withdrew several sheets of paper folded to fit inside.

Kate couldn’t believe she’d been given a second chance. Drawing a deep breath, she began to outline her plan to rescue her father’s diner.

“A catering firm?” the man opposite her asked in surprise. “I hate to mention such mundane things, but catering is a tough business, with a low profit margin. And even more important, it requires good cooking skills.”

Did he think she was an idiot? “Of course it does. But since I trained in Paris, I think my cooking will be adequate.”

“Paris, France?”

The surprise on his face was offensive. “No, Paris, Texas! Really, Mr. Hardison, must you insult my intelligence? Of course, Paris, France. I worked there as sous-chef of Maxim’s for the past three years.”

“Maxim’s?” he repeated. “But I ate there last November.”

“And you haven’t died from ptomaine poisoning yet? Amazing.” She had to remind herself not to be sarcastic. Pop always warned her about her sharp tongue, but the man was driving her crazy.

“I didn’t mean—the food was good. But you don’t look like you—I mean, your appearance—I’m surprised.” He finished with red cheeks, but his gaze had roved her face and body and it didn’t take much interpretation to understand his meaning.

“So you think only ugly women learn to cook?”

“No, of course not, but—let’s see those figures.”

Though his resorting to business to get him out of his difficulties was amusing, she didn’t bother to smile. Too much was at stake. But it didn’t keep her from appreciating that she had him at a disadvantage.

“All right, here’s what I’m hoping to do.”

She forgot the earlier events of the evening, her disgust with her companion, the despair that had filled her as they’d driven back to the diner. Inside, the flickering hope that had driven her to William Hardison in the first place flamed high as she described her plan to restore the diner to its former glory.

Or to more than its former glory since she wasn’t sure it had ever been a smart establishment. Her plans included a large expansion of the kitchen to enable her to mass produce hors d’oeuvres and meals for the catering. And, since the man had agreed to listen, she threw in the apartment she planned to add on for herself.

“You want to live here?” His glance around the diner wasn’t admiring.

“I already live here. I’d like to have nicer accommodations.”

His gaze whipped back to hers. “Where?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Where do you live?”

“There’s a room behind the kitchen.”

“I want to see it.”

Her eyebrows raised. She had no intention of showing him her bedroom. She wasn’t ashamed of it, exactly, but it wasn’t a showplace, either. Just a room with a small bed, some space for her to store her clothes and a lot of boxes holding some of her belongings and those of her father. It was none of his business.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“I think it is.”

“But, you see, Mr. Hardison,” she said with a glacial smile, “I don’t much care what you think about my living quarters. I only care about your business acumen, in regard to my plans.”

“I think you have about as much chance of being successful as the Royals do of making the playoffs.”

Her confidence took a nosedive. The Royals, the local pro baseball team, were halfway through their season with a .348 percent win record.

She stiffened her back and raised her chin. “I see. Well, thank you for listening.” She started to slide out of the booth, hoping she could escape before her eyes allowed the tears filling them to overrun down her cheeks.

“But I will give you the money,” he said as he took hold of her arm.

She froze. Surely she had not heard correctly. He’d just said she had almost no chance to make her plan work. Then in the next breath he’d offered her the money?

Collecting herself, she asked sedately, as if her heart were not thumping like a drum, “On what terms?”

The smile on his lips should’ve warned her. But she was thinking percent, payments, length of loan, escrow. He wasn’t.

“My terms are that you marry me.”