Читать книгу Red-Hot Summer: The Millionaire's Proposition / The Tycoon's Stowaway / The Spy Who Tamed Me - Kelly Hunter, Avril Tremayne - Страница 16

SCOTT.

Kate’s vocal cords froze. God help me, God help me, God help me.

‘Kate? Come on—buzz me up. My arms are going to fall off in a minute.’

Kate buzzed the door and then just stared at it, paralysed.

Something was swelling in her chest—a mixture of joy and yearning and uncertainty. What did it mean that he’d come when she’d told him not to? He shouldn’t be doing this. She was glad he was here. No, she wasn’t—because they had rules. But it was Valentine’s Day. No, that meant nothing. She couldn’t let him get away with breaking the rules. No matter how glad she was that he was doing it.

Mmm-hmm. She sure was making a lot of sense!

She heard Scott’s voice vibrating through her door like a tuning fork. That disarmingly lazy drawl, addressed to some stranger. A laugh. Yep—he’d hooked a new fan in under a minute.

She rested her palms against the door, could almost feel him through it.

Breathe. Just breathe.

One knock.

Breathe!

She opened the door and Scott stepped over the threshold as though he owned the place.

‘What are you doing here?’ she managed to get out.

‘Why wouldn’t I be here?’

He handed her two bottles of wine—a white and a red—and carried a six-pack of beer and a paper bag containing who knew what into the kitchen.

Kate followed him, put the red wine on the counter, the white wine and beer in the fridge.

‘You can’t just buzz the intercom whenever you feel like it,’ she said, in her Don’t disturb the children voice.

Scott shrugged. ‘If the intercom annoys you, give me a key.’

Which, of course, was not the point. ‘I am not giving you a key.’

Another one of those shrugs of his. ‘Then it’s the intercom.’

‘You can’t stay,’ she said. ‘I’m just about to order pizza.’

‘I love pizza.’

‘Not for you, Scott. You shouldn’t be here. I told you I was babysitting Maeve and Molly tonight.’

‘And I emailed you back to say that wasn’t a problem.’

‘That wasn’t—? I mean… Huh?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Were you trying to tell me not to come? Tsk, tsk, Kate—you have to be more specific, in that case. Lawyers shouldn’t be leaving loopholes. So, to be clear…it’s not a problem that you’re babysitting tonight, which is why I’m here. And, yes, Sunday is fine too.’

Kate thought back to her email, his reply, acknowledged the ambiguity…but knew very well he was playing her.

‘You knew what I meant, Scott. And we’re supposed to negotiate if we have a problem with dates.’

‘Okay, let’s negotiate.’

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Opened her eyes to find him looking all woebegone.

‘Don’t you like me any more?’ he asked.

She stared at him as laughter and frustration warred inside her. ‘No.’

‘But why?’

‘Because you’re—’ She broke off, laughed because she just couldn’t help it, damn him. ‘Just because. And I hope you like entertaining children—because that’s the only action you’re getting tonight. I can’t—won’t—leave two little girls eating pizza while you and I go for a quickie in the bedroom.’

He leaned in close, snatched a kiss. ‘One—that’s just a kiss, not a proposal of marriage, so don’t complain. Two—I’m not asking you for a quickie in the bedroom while the girls eat pizza. And three—it won’t be quick; it will be nice and slow…after Maeve and Molly’s parents have picked them up.’

One more rapid-fire kiss.

‘You really have the most sensational mouth in the world.’ Another kiss—quick and scorching. ‘And make mine pepperoni.’

He had the nerve to laugh at the tortured look on her face.

‘What? Is it the money? I’ll pay you half, as per our contract, if that’s what’s worrying you. Honestly—you lawyers are so tight!’

And with that, he liberated three red foil-wrapped chocolate hearts from the paper bag and presented one to her. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’

And there she went—crumbling. ‘Oh, you…you know it’s Valentine’s Day?’

‘Well, yeeeaah! Multiple cards. Even one present—a cute little cat o’ nine tails from Anais that you and I will not be trying out. But nothing—nada!—from you. And, Kate, I’m warning you—if you haven’t had the common decency to buy me a chocolate or a cupcake or at the very least a soppy card, I’m eating half of that chocolate heart.’ Quick unholy grin. ‘And I’ll take mine molten…off your tummy.’

And with that gobsmacking pronouncement, Scott swaggered into the living room while the last of her resistance disintegrated.

‘Which one’s Maeve and which one’s Molly?’ he asked. ‘No, don’t tell me. My friend Willa told me Maeve is seven, so that would be…you.’ He pointed to Molly, who giggled. He did an over-the-top double-take. ‘Not you?’

Head-shake from Molly.

‘I’m Maeve,’ Maeve said, and Scott plonked himself down on the rug and leaned back against the couch next to her.

‘Okay—will you be my Valentine?’ he asked and handed over one of the hearts.

Her eyes lit as she shyly took the heart and nodded.

‘Ohhhhh!’ That came from the rug. ‘What about me?’

Scott nodded sagely at Molly. ‘Well, it just so happens I’m in the market for two Valentines tonight.’ He produced the other chocolate heart and a beaming Molly came over for long enough to take it from him and give him a sweet little hug before she resettled on the rug.

He turned to Maeve. ‘So, Maeve, what’s so interesting?’

Maeve flashed her book’s cover.

‘Ah, you’re going to be a chef,’ he said.

Maeve nodded, still shy.

‘I’m not bad in the kitchen myself,’ Scott said, and proceeded to talk about biscuits.

Biscuits? That was just so…random. Biscuits! And chocolate hearts on Valentine’s Day. And asking Willa about the girls. Kate didn’t know what to make of it all. What to make of him.

Unless it was that he was completely irresistible.

She called for pizza, then set the dining table, while Scott charmed her nieces—looking absolutely nothing like a confirmed bachelor as he did it.

The man knew his baking. The pros and cons of shortbread, ginger snaps, honey jumbles, chocolate chip cookies and macaroons were all discussed at length. And the absolute deliciousness of…what?…whoopie pies?…was being extolled? Kate had never heard of a whoopie pie.

‘They’re like little chocolate cookie sandwiches, with a creamy filling,’ Scott explained to Maeve—who’d never heard of them either. ‘Next time you’re here, we’ll bake them together.’

‘Can I bake too?’ Molly asked.

‘You sure can. Three of us can make three times the pies! What have you got there, Molly?’

In no time Scott was lying next to Molly on the floor, having the picture explained to him. Maeve abandoned her book to lie on Scott’s other side.

Scott gave a bit of improvement advice, explaining that it was his job to design houses, and as Kate paid for the pizzas she heard the girls asking him to redraw the house for them.

‘I’d be honoured,’ Scott said, and then got to his feet and helped the girls up. ‘But first—pizza!’

It was adorable the way he got the girls drinks, helped them choose the biggest pizza slices, chatted about the most beautiful houses he’d designed in a way that made them sound like magic castles. After dinner he stayed with Maeve and Molly while Kate cleared up, drawing in Molly’s sketchbook and making the girls ooh and ahh.

Yep, bona fide adorable.

And Kate just had to see the drawing. So she peeked over Scott’s shoulder.

Oh. Ohhhhh.

It was the perfect little girls’ house. Towers and turrets. Winding paths. A secret entrance to an underground treasure cave, a private elf garden, a sunken pool with a waterfall. He’d sketched two bedrooms, labelled ‘Molly’ and ‘Maeve’, with fairytale beds and magic mirrors and spiralling staircases.

When Kate took the girls off to clean their teeth and get ready for bed, each of the girls kissed Scott goodnight—one per cheek—and he blushed.

Scott Knight, who could talk more boldly about sex than any man she’d ever met, blushed.

Kate felt her heart do one of those swoons inside her chest, and thought, Uh-oh. This is bad. Very, very bad.

She read to Maeve and Molly until they drifted into sleep, and then—a little apprehensive—went to find Scott.

He was on the terrace, where he gravitated every time she left him alone.

‘I poured you a glass of wine. It’s there on the table. And sorry, Kate, but that table’s going to have to go, along with the chairs,’ he said. ‘It’s so fragile I feel like I’m going to break something every time I’m near that furniture.’

She had to agree it looked like a children’s toy set next to Scott’s imposing frame. Everything did. But she forbore from pointing out that she was not going to change her furniture for a man who wouldn’t be in her life for long.

Whew. That hit her. This was finite. It had a start date and it would come to an end. She couldn’t let herself forget that just because he’d smiled at her once as if he saw something wonderful in her. Or because he’d made love to her once as if he was embedding himself inside her.

Scott took a long pull of beer from the bottle in his hand, gazing out at the marina as Kate fetched her glass and joined him at the edge of the terrace.

‘What’s it like? Sailing?’ she asked.

‘It was fun.’

‘Was?’

‘I don’t sail any more.’

‘But…why? I mean, why not?’

‘It was just…’ Shrug. ‘Time to concentrate on the important things in life.’

‘Fun is important.’

He looked down at her. ‘I am having fun. With you,’ he said, and leaned down to kiss her.

‘I know why you do that,’ she said, when he pulled back. ‘Do what?’

‘Kiss me.’

‘Well, duh, Kate! I do it because I like kissing you.’

‘You do it to distract me. So you don’t have to answer my questions.’

‘And does it? Distract you?’

‘Yes. But why are such simple questions a problem for you?’

Pause. ‘Prying into my past is not part of the deal, Kate.’

Kate felt it like a slap—not just the words but the keep your distance tone. She found she was gripping her glass too hard, so put it on the broad top of the terrace railing.

She heard Scott sigh. Then he was smoothing his hand over her hair like an apology. ‘Kate, the sailing… It’s just something I set aside to focus on the realities of life—like studying and working. And look at me now—I’m an award-winner!’ Low laugh, with all the self-deprecation his brother lacked. ‘It’s enough for me.’

‘If it were enough you wouldn’t spend every moment I leave you alone out on the terrace, watching the boats.’

‘Pry-ing…’ he sing-songed.

‘It’s not prying to ask questions about a person you…you’re…’

‘Having sex with,’ he supplied. And sighed again. ‘You drew up the contract, Kate. There wasn’t a clause for fireside chats in there.’ Slight pause. ‘Right?’

‘Right.’

‘So has anything changed for you?’

She wanted to say yes. That things had changed. Because of the way they’d made love two nights ago. The way he’d presented her with a chocolate heart. And blushed when two little girls had kissed him. The way he tried to pretend that the boats bobbing on the harbour held no fascination for him when she knew they did.

But if things changed he would go. She knew it instinctively. Not yet. Not…yet.

‘No,’ she said quietly, and picked up her wine glass, sipped. ‘Nothing’s changed.’

They stood in silence, side by side, staring across at the dark water, the city lights in the distance.

And then Scott cleared his throat. Just a tiny sound. ‘Good. Because the whole fireside-chat thing… It would be like me asking you…’ Shrug. ‘I don’t know…’ Shrug. ‘If you wanted…maybe…to have children. One day, I mean.’

Another clearing of the throat. ‘Because you’re so good with the girls anyone would wonder about that.’

What the hell? Kate slanted a look at him. He was looking out at the Harbour.

But then he turned, looked at her. Eyes watchful. ‘And you wouldn’t want me to ask you that, would you?’

‘If you wanted to ask me that, Scott, I’d answer. Because it’s no big deal.’

‘Ah, but I don’t need to ask. I already know the answer is yes.’

And for the first time in a long time, Kate thought, Yes. The answer, very simply, was yes. Except of course she’d lost that simple answer somewhere along her career path.

She turned back to the boats. Long moment.

‘You know, Scott, I’ve seen fathers who say they’ve been tricked into pregnancy and shouldn’t have to pay child support. Divorcing parents using child custody as carrot and stick to punish or bribe. Surrogates who decide to keep their children when those children are the last hope of desperate couples. Fathers pulling out all the stops to avoid their children being aborted. Twins separated and fostered because of financial pressure. Unwanted children, abused children, ignored children. I’m not sure that’s an enticement to parenthood.’

‘But you wouldn’t be like any of those parents.’

‘No. But a lot of women are good at choosing the wrong man.’

‘Then don’t choose the wrong man.’

‘Oh, simple!’ She turned to him. ‘So simple that I suppose if you found the right woman it would be a case of Bingo, let me impregnate you immediately!’

He laughed softly. ‘Since the longest I’ve been with a woman is two months, I’d say I’m hardly father material.’

Two months. The equivalent of one contract rollover. Consider yourself warned, Kate.

‘Well, at least you’ve got the uncle routine down pat,’ she said. ‘Judging by how you were with Maeve and Molly. Where did you learn that? Does Hugo have children?’

‘Yes, he does. One girl. One boy. Twins. A perfect set. My brother does all things to perfection.’

Kate caught the wryness—but before she could even wonder at it Scott had tugged her under his arm, leaned down for another that’s enough talking kiss.

‘I can’t wait to touch you,’ he said.

‘You are touching me,’ she said, all breathless—because that was what it did to her every time he kissed her.

‘I’m calling another Play Time next week, Kate.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Uh-uh. Secret. But you’re not keeping up. Come on—don’t you have a fantasy you want to try out? I’d love to indulge you.’

‘I do have something in mind for next week,’ Kate said, because since it was a damned sex contract, and she’d put that stupid clause in there herself, it would look strange if she didn’t have even one scenario in mind. But the truth was she could think of nothing she wanted more than just taking him into her body, holding him close.

‘Woo-hoo, I’ll be hanging out for that,’ Scott said. ‘But remember—no S&M, no B&D. I wasn’t kidding about that stuff. It creeps me out, the pain thing. I don’t enjoy it, and I sure as hell can’t see myself inflicting it on you. Oh—and while fruit and veg is acceptable, under certain circumstances, no wildlife, no livestock. I’m not that kinky.’

‘Wildlife?’ Kate spluttered out a laugh. ‘That is just disgusting. Is your black book annotated? Because maybe I’d better take a look at what you expect. I might have to rein you in.’

Scott grinned at her. ‘Just making sure we’re on the same page after seeing the way that guy in your boardroom was patting and kissing his little dog like it was his girlfriend.’

Another spluttered laugh. ‘Please! You’re going to give me nightmares. And Sugarplum isn’t a dog. She’s a shih tzu.’

‘The dog is called Sugarplum?’

‘Yep.’

‘Well, that is an abomination.’

Kate bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Actually, I have another name for her. Hostis humani generis.’

‘Is that a legal term?’

‘It is. It means “enemy of the human race”. Which I think is very apt in Sugarplum’s case.’

‘I’m going to have to kiss you for that. Because legal terms get me so damned hot! Can you say something with functus officio in it?’

She was laughing helplessly. ‘Not offhand, no.’

‘Then hostis humani generis it is.’

Kate was still laughing as Scott planted his mouth on hers…but not for long. By the time he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she was tingly and dazed. And Scott seemed equally affected.

‘I love kissing you,’ he breathed against her lips.

‘People do tend to love doing things they’re particularly good at.’

‘You’re no slouch yourself—but even if you were, Kate, one look at your mouth is all I’d ever need to get me ready to dive inside you.’

She shivered. Closed her eyes briefly. He could turn her on too easily. So easily it was dangerous.

Change the subject.

‘Anyway, Sugarplum’s family is sorted. You won’t be seeing her around the office again.’

‘Who ended up getting the kids?’

‘Kids?’ Kate asked.

‘That couple. You know—the kids?’

‘Ah,’ Kate said, and winced.

‘Not kids?’

Another wince.

‘You’re not telling me that fight was about that evil little yapper, are you?’

She could see the horror—almost comical and yet not. The disbelief.

Kate shrugged.

‘So they don’t have kids?’ he asked.

‘I’m not saying that.’

‘So they do have kids, but the fight was over…’ Stop, stare. ‘You’re not serious?’ he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

He shook his head, stunned. ‘I hope they’re paying you a lot, because from where I’m standing your job sucks.’

‘Lately…yeah, it does suck.’

‘At least your family must be proud of you, though. Lawyers are like doctors—they’ve got the parental-pride market cornered.’

‘Actually, my mother would probably prefer an architect to a lawyer! She’s an artist, so creative stuff is more her speed.’

‘Your mother’s an artist?’ And then his eyes widened. ‘Oh! Ohh! Cleary! Madeline Cleary? Yes! Of course! The painting in your office and the one in your bedroom. Wow.’

‘Yes—wow. And my father is a playwright, but not as well known. What about your parents?’

‘Doctors times two. So…your mother… She’s not happy about you being a lawyer?’

‘She thinks I get too emotionally invested in my cases. Whenever I stress out, she says, “Kaaaaate, I warned you how it would be.” And then she adds something about thanking heaven for divorce—which is her way of telling me I’m doing the world a favour, and to just get on with the next uncoupling. It’s the Cleary way, you know—fight like hell, then move on.’

‘Now, you see, my mother would see divorce as an admission of failure. Which is why Knights don’t divorce. Failure is not an option.’

‘Even if the alternative is to stick with someone who’s horrible? Someone abusive? Divorce has got to be a better alternative.’

‘Then why do you stress out about it, Kate?’

Tve just…’ She paused, sighed. ‘I’ve had a run of nasty ones lately. And seeing people ripping each other apart, seeing the kids on the sidelines…’ Another pause. ‘It can make you cynical.’

‘Cynical. Now, that I understand.’

‘Which is when I start thinking about boat theft.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t done it already.’

‘Maybe I would have—except for one small thing.’ She slanted him a glinting smile. ‘I can’t sail!’

He touched her face. Gentle, soft. ‘Ah, well—definitely a problem!’

‘And, you know, my job has compensations.’

‘Money?’

‘Yes, that’s one.’

‘And meeting handsome architects through your clients.’

‘Handsome egomaniacal architects, even,’ Kate said, and laughed. ‘But I’d definitely classify meeting Willa as compensation. It was…satisfying to fight for her.’

‘Yeah, I get that. From what I know of Wayne-the-Pain, he would have tried to screw her out of everything just to pay her back for wanting to be something more than an arm bauble. She said you fought like a demon. That it was your way—to fight to the death.’

‘Yes, like I said—the Cleary way. And definitely my way. Even more so for people I love—and I love Willa. She’s…special. Strong. So much tougher than people think. I admire her more than I can say. She deserves everything good and fine in the world. Joy. Peace. Security. And love. She deserves love.’

‘I think you’re a secret romantic, Kate.’ He nudged her playfully. ‘So where’s my Valentine’s Day card?’

‘It’s in the mail,’ Kate said, nudging him back. ‘Along with a few tools of oppression—handcuffs and hot wax to go with Anais’s whip, because I think she’s on to something there.’

Scott gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘I promise you, she is not.’ Pause. ‘Mind you, for a B&D aficionado, Anais has some remarkably pedestrian notions about love.’

‘What’s pedestrian?’

‘Let’s just say the idea of a straight up and down sex contract would never have entered her head. You and I… We’re…different. We know what we want and what we don’t. And we go for it.’

Kate thought about that for a moment. ‘Are you saying Anais believes in love, and that that’s pedestrian? Because I hate to break it to you, Scott, but I’m pedestrian in that way too. It’s impossible not to believe in love in my family. They throw it at you in great gooey clumps, whether you want it or not.’

‘Ah, but that’s a different kind of love to the romantic stuff.’

‘The principles are the same. Real love, of any kind, glories in a person’s strengths and talents and…and their flaws too. Especially their flaws. It accepts and it…it heals. It lets you just…be. Be who you are. A lot of divorces happen because that’s not the kind of love on offer.’ Stop. Breath. ‘And that’s when the lawyers come in—earning thousands of dollars negotiating whether it’s Mr or Mrs X who gets five hundred dollars’ worth of groceries in the settlement. And that’s a true story.’

‘But it’s not about the groceries, is it?’

‘No. It’s about power. Punishing someone because they can’t love you enough, or don’t need you enough, or won’t give you enough.’ She shivered. ‘It makes you wonder…’

‘Wonder?’

‘Why you’d ever let someone have that power over you.’

‘And that is why you and I—two sex-crazed cynics—are meant for each other.’

‘For the grand total of two more weeks.’

‘Rollover clause, remember?’ He eyed her closely. ‘You’re not finished with me yet, are you, Kate?’

‘No, I’m not finished with you.’ She clinked her glass against Scott’s beer bottle. ‘Here’s to not having to get divorced. Not that Clearys get divorced any more than Knights.’

‘But—’ He broke off, shook his head. ‘You said your mother’s in favour of divorce.’

‘And so she is—for all those people silly enough to get married in the first place.’

‘You mean…? Hang on, I’m not getting this.’

‘Clearys don’t get divorced because they don’t get married.’

‘You mean like…ever?’

‘Not in recent history.’

‘Your mother?’

‘Nope.’

‘Her mother?’

‘Absolutely not—Gran was all about free love.’

‘Molly and Maeve’s parents?’

‘No. It’s easier, you know, not to rely on a man. Or, in reverse, a woman. But don’t misunderstand me—our fathers were in our lives as much as they wanted to be, and it worked very well.’ She smiled. ‘Gus—my father—and Aristotle—Shay and my other sister Lilith’s father—even get along well together.’

‘So it’s one of those weird, blended, out-there families that are going to be the ruin of civilisation? The Knight family would be horrified!’

‘Are you? Horrified?’

‘I said the Knight family. I’m not really part of that.’

She looked at him sharply. ‘What does that mean?’

He shrugged. ‘I need another beer,’ he said, and went into the apartment.

Kate followed him inside. Waited while he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

‘What’s your family like, Scott?’

‘Doctors.’

‘No—I mean, what are they like?’

‘Well…doctors.’ He hunched a shoulder. ‘You’ve met Hugo. He’s pretty up and down perfect. That’s the standard. My family is not weird, blended and out-there. More like stultifyingly conventional.’

‘So you’re…what? The black sheep?’

‘More like the sheep with second-grade wool.’

‘Okay, what does that mean?’

He took a pull of his beer. ‘Nothing. Just that growing up as a Knight is… Well, it’s nothing a Cleary would understand.’

‘Try me.’

He paused. Looked at her. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. ‘Forget it, Kate.’ One of those infuriating smiles that meant nothing. ‘It’s not germane. And—Ah, the intercom. Better go let your sister in.’

If Shay and Rick were surprised to find a man at Kate’s they didn’t show it. And Scott—well, he was all smooth charm. But in that closed-off, keep your distance way. A way that made Shay, who was unusually perceptive, narrow her eyes at him.

As Shay and Rick went to get the girls there was silence.

Kate racked her brain for a way to break it—a way to break through the sudden wall of reserve that was between them.

But in the end Scott was the one to break the silence. ‘So, Kate, I owe you.’ He reached in his pocket for his wallet.

‘Wh—What?’

‘Money for the pizza.’ He handed over some notes.

Kate stared at the money in her hand as he returned his wallet to his pocket. ‘Scott…?’

‘Fifty-fifty, remember?’ he said with a meaningless smile. ‘And now I’d better hit the ro—’

He broke off as Rick and Shay reappeared, carrying Maeve and Molly, who were drowsy and tousled and lovable.

Kate kissed the girls. And then watched, fascinated, as they each in turn leaned towards Scott for him to kiss them too. She saw Scott blush as he did so. The cool reserve was gone for those few moments, replaced by something perilously close to tenderness.

Scott…and children.

Something he couldn’t have because he never stayed with a woman long enough? Or because he was a Knight. Or…or what?

Shay, won over in that instant, smiled at him, and Scott blushed again.

And then Kate and Scott were alone again, and she wondered what was going to happen next. Given the way he’d kissed her out on the terrace, by rights she should have been flat against the door with Scott all over her the moment it closed behind her family…but Kate had a feeling that was not going to happen.

Scott took her face between his hands and she waited, breathless and curious.

‘You’re so beautiful, Kate,’ he said, but that fact didn’t seem to make him happy.

He leaned close, put his forehead on hers and just stopped. Not moving, not even breathing.

Kate wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be all right, even though she didn’t know what was wrong. But she stayed exactly as she was. Soaking in this moment where nothing happened, nothing changed.

And then Scott released her, stepped back. Smiled one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I hope you appreciate that I did not kiss you then,’ he said. ‘Please note for future reference that I am capable of obeying the rules. No kissing if it isn’t going to lead to sex, right?’

‘But I thought—’

‘I just—I just think I’d better go home tonight.’

‘But you can still go home tonight. I mean, after…’

But at the look on his face—closed-off, determined—Kate forced herself to stop. She wasn’t going to beg. Not any man. Ever. And especially not this one, who was already running rings around her in every possible way.

Ring-running. For her own mental health, it was going to have to stop.

So she smiled, as remote as he was. ‘Yeah, we’re over our target, right?’

‘Right,’ Scott said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then—new week, new target.’

‘Not tomorrow,’ Kate said.

‘But you said Sunday.’

‘And now I’m saying no.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘That sounds like pique, Kate. And we don’t have room for pique in our contract.’

‘No, we don’t have any allowances for pique in our contract, Scott,’ she said, very cool. ‘This is not pique. I wasn’t expecting you tonight—as you know very well. I was, in fact, planning to do some work once I’d put the girls to bed. Now I have to play catch-up tomorrow. So thank you.’

‘Ouch. I’m going to need that stapler,’ Scott said.

Then with a mock salute he was gone.

Kate looked at the door, wondering exactly what had happened out there on the terrace.

She crossed her arms against a chill premonition that things between them were not going to work out the way either of them expected.