Читать книгу The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection - Ким Лоренс, Kelly Hunter - Страница 28

KATE WAS PREPARED for the Monday morning What the hell was that kiss about? calls from Willa and Amy. She offered up a perfectly nuanced laugh as she blamed the lethal combination of Scott’s beer and her Manhattans, positioning it as a Dirty Martini Barnaby moment gone a step too far. And if the girls didn’t sound exactly convinced, at least they let the subject drop.

She was less prepared for Deb’s darting, anxious eyes as she kept a steady flow of peppermint tea—her favourite stress remedy—pouring into Kate’s office—while very carefully not asking about ‘that nice Scott Knight’. Not that Deb had to ask; Kate was convinced she had psychic powers.

And she was not at all prepared for her mother’s visit on Tuesday morning.

Madeline Cleary swept into Kate’s office the way she swept through life: grandly, wearing a caftan, hot-pink lipstick and high heels.

She took a seat, fixing Kate with one of her don’t mess with me stares. ‘Okay, Kate, what’s this Deb’s been telling me?’

Deb! Psychic and traitor!

‘“This”?’ Kate asked, closing the door sharply—knowing it would drive Deb crazy not being able to listen in, which served her right.

‘Scott Knight,’ her mother said.

‘He’s an architect.’

‘Well, isn’t that lovely? Much more interesting than a barrister. But not really the pertinent fact at the moment, is it, Kate? Don’t bother with any of your legal obfuscation. Just tell me what’s happening.’

‘No.’

‘Okay, then bring him to dinner on Sunday and I’ll ask him instead.’

‘That won’t be happening. It’s not like that with us. I mean the…the family thing. It’s just…just…’ The words trailed off and she shrugged.

Her mother looked at her—very long, very hard. ‘It’s just that he’s the one, perhaps?’

Kate tried—failed—to laugh. ‘Nothing that romantic.’

‘So make it romantic.’

‘You can’t make these things happen.’

‘Not if you’re pussy-hearted. Which, of course, is not the way I raised my daughters. I raised lionesses.’ She leaned forward. ‘Kate, remember when I tried to dissuade you from going into family law?’

Eye-roll. ‘Yes.’

‘Not because I don’t like lawyers—’

Another eye-roll. ‘Although you don’t!’

‘But because you’re so tender-hearted. I knew you’d be running yourself ragged, fighting for the downtrodden and then bleeding all over the place when you lost a case.’ She sat back again. ‘And do you remember what you told me to do?’

Kate smiled—it blossomed despite her hideous mood. ‘I told you to shove it.’

Her mother beamed at her. ‘And I was so proud of you.’

Kate ran her hands over her face, laughing helplessly. ‘You’re a weirdo, Mum.’

‘It’s an artistic thing. So what?’

‘So I love you.’

‘And I love you. And I think you deserve a reward for all the crap you put up with day after day. And if he’s the reward you want, then you’re going to have him.’

‘He doesn’t want…that. The whole forever thing.’

‘From what I hear, he’s had plenty of what he wants.’

Arrgghh. Going to kill Deb. Boil her in a vat of peppermint tea.

‘So, Kate, it’s time for what you want. Which just might turn out to be what he wants too.’

‘He doesn’t.’

‘How do you know? Have you asked him?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Why “of course not”? Because he’s a boy and they have to ask first? Don’t make me slap you. Just ask him.’

Silence.

‘Kate, the reason I was so proud of you that day when you told me so eloquently to shove it was because you threw it all at me. How you felt, why you felt it, what it meant to you. You said you would move heaven and hell to do it. And that if it all came to nothing, or you couldn’t hack it, at least you’d have no regrets about not trying. And, really, Kate? If it’s you asking for something, fighting for something…’ She smiled—a smile so completely proud and understanding and just so family Kate wanted to cry. ‘Well, Kate, who would ever say no to you?’

Who would ever say no to you?

Oh, God. God! Scott would say no. He would.

‘So, Kate, tell him. What you feel. Why you feel it. What he means to you. And move heaven and hell. Because, of all of my daughters, you can. And then, whatever happens, at least you’ll have no regrets.’ She paused again, shrugged. ‘The alternative is that I tell your father what he’s done to you—and he and Aristotle have been playing with a new set of throwing knives, so I’d prefer not to go that route. At least not yet.’

Kate arrived at Scott’s on Tuesday ten minutes late.

She stayed in her car for another ten minutes, with her mother’s words going through her mind. Tell him, tell him, tell him.

But she couldn’t help feeling it would be like pulling the rug out from under him. I said it was only going to be sex, Scott, but it’s love.

What would he say?

Big sigh. Because she had no idea.

He’d sent so many mixed signals her way she was beyond knowing what he expected of her, what he wanted from her, how he felt about her. He’d been everything from distant to demanding, from impassioned to indifferent. From flippant to furious. Agreeing to the rules—and breaking them.

The way he’d looked at her in that alley on Friday night, when he’d taken her hands in his—that was not about sex. And that last Play Time, when he’d been so angry with her—irrational, emotional…

Wasn’t that a bit like love?

She sucked in a breath, because just saying that in her head made her heart flutter. Running a hand over her stomach, which was similarly fluttery, she wondered, maybe, if she should ask him.

But after Play Time. Because if Play Time involved her getting into a PVC cat suit or wielding some kind of implement…? Well, she couldn’t see herself talking about love after a dose of kink.

Sighing, she started to push the intercom button—but Scott opened the door before the chime even sounded. He took her in his arms, kissed her as though he’d been waiting a year and was starving for the taste of her.

And everything in her fluttered. Nervous and hopeful and a little bit terrified.

Releasing her slowly, Scott gestured for her to move into the house, and she was struck again by the magnificence of what he’d achieved—even more so today, when she was seeing it as Kate, who’d been invited, not Lorelei, who’d invited herself.

It was stylish, lavish, unusual. A manifestation of all those parts that made Scott who he was. The coolness, the control, the hidden fiery core.

Kate cleared her throat. ‘So. Play Time?’

He put his arm around her, led her into what she supposed was the living room—or living space, more correctly, since there were no internal walls, only strategically placed columns.

‘Yep,’ he said. ‘I’m calling it “The Architect and the Lawyer”.’

She halted as her hopes started to soar. ‘That sounds…normal.’

‘Ah, but with a twist. The way I’m seeing it is that the architect gives the lawyer a tour of his house. Along the way the lawyer tries to find a legal term appropriate for each space—extra points for Latin. And if the lawyer likes what she sees, she gets to touch the architect. And if the architect likes what the lawyer says…same deal. He gets to touch her. And then the architect—because he is multi-talented—prepares dinner. And they eat. And drink wine. And then, if all that touching has meant anything at all, they go upstairs to bed and negotiate the rollover of their contract for another month.’

‘Oh,’ she said as her hopes stopped soaring and started plummeting. The contract. One more month. Not exactly forever.

Scott took her briefcase, threw it onto his glamorous coffee-coloured couch with no regard for the potential damage its buckles could do to the fabric, and slowly turned her to the living area. ‘So—what do you think?’ he asked.

She tried to smile. ‘I guess I’ll start with…ab initio.’

‘Well, I’m going to have to kiss you for that.’

‘Do you even know what it means?’

‘No.’

And then he drew her close and kissed her cheek. Just her cheek…but she felt it tingle all the way through her body.

‘So what does it mean?’ he asked when he released her.

‘“From the beginning”,’ she said. ‘It’s commonly used to refer to the time a contract, statute, deed or…or marriage becomes legal.’ Oh, God—why had she mentioned marriage? She cleared her throat. ‘But in this instance we’ll use it for the start of the house tour.’

‘Suits me,’ Scott said. ‘Ab initio. We can use it for the start of our new month too.’

‘Hmm…’ Kate said. A vague, nothing noise. ‘Where to next?’

‘Library—which, you will be interested to note, used to be an altar.’

She could already see it, and walked slowly across the wooden floor and up the three steps. So beautiful. Coloured rugs. A fireplace—unlit in the heat of February. Books nestling in custom-made shelves; armchairs—some leather, some fabric—low wooden tables. She turned to face the main space, looking out at the expansive floor, partitioned into discrete zones via the columns—all spectacularly clean and modern, which made the library feel like an oasis of plush comfort.

‘It could do with a few of your mother’s paintings, but otherwise what do you think?’ Scott asked.

Mother. Her mother. Tell him, tell him. ‘Umm…’ She turned to him. ‘Ad coelum.’

Scott drew her in and kissed her eyelids. First one, then the other.

‘If you like it…aren’t you going to touch me?’ he asked, all husky.

Kate reached a hand up, cupped his face, ran her thumb over his cheekbone. ‘Want to know what it means?’ she asked.

‘Yes, as soon as you touch me again—you owe me for the living room.’

She brought up her other hand and now both hands cradled his face. She leaned up, kissed him gently on the mouth. And then she smiled into his eyes.

‘To the sky. It’s actually abbreviated from cuius est solum eius est usque ad coelum et ad inferos—which basically means whoever owns the soil owns that space, all the way up to heaven and down to hell. And this is just heavenly. Which seems apt for a converted church.’

‘You’ve got no idea how much you are turning me on, Kate.’

‘That’s the whole idea of Play Time, isn’t it?’

He frowned slightly, but said nothing. Simply took her arm and continued the tour.

Scott showed her all over the masterpiece that was the lower floor. And it was obvious why his renown as an architect was growing.

The huge arched panels of stained glass juxtaposed against the ultra-modern use of materials and neutral colours in most of the spaces were startling and lovely. The structure of the zones, flowing one into the next, was incredible. Scott’s stark office and the state-of-the-art kitchen and guest bathroom were top-notch contemporary. The surprising pops of colour, like the scarlet staircase and the chartreuse relaxation nook off a plant-filled atrium, were brilliantly eccentric. How could such disparate elements combine into something so blow-your-head-off gorgeous? But that was…Scott.

Kate had to concentrate hard in order to be able to spit out Latin legal phrases, only to have her thoughts scatter every time Scott chose a different part of her to kiss. It was agonising, this falling in love. Feeling it dig itself more deeply inside her with every gentle, lavishing touch of Scott’s fingers, his mouth, on her lips, her cheeks, her ears, her eyebrows—her damned eyebrows!—and her hair. Wishing so hard it meant something, the way his eyes closed, the way he held his breath as she touched him in turn. Shoulders, hands, neck, chest.

She was in torment by the time they circled back to the library, where Scott settled her with a drink while he finished preparing dinner. He was so jaunty as he left her—even whistling, as though he had everything he could possibly want.

But then, Scott did have everything he wanted. Exactly what he wanted. She was the one who didn’t have what she wanted. And she still had no idea how to get it—except to ask for it…and risk losing even the little of him she had.

Kate didn’t know how long had passed when Scott came to escort her through to the dining area. But she could feel time just generally slipping away. Four days until the twenty-eighth of February. When their contract would be terminated—or rolled over.

Scott held out a chair for her at the sleek wooden table and waited for her to sit.

‘You didn’t have to cook dinner,’ Kate said.

‘Well, you see, Kate, the fifty-fifty rule wasn’t working for me. So this—’ charming little shrug ‘—is my way of taking you to dinner. And before you tell me I’m breaking the rules, I’m going to remind you that extras are allowed in Play Time.’ He sat opposite her. ‘Cucumber soup. Perfect for a Sydney summer.’

But Kate was beyond taste as she silently filled her spoon, raised it to her mouth, swallowed. Time after time. Until her bowl was empty.

Scott—who’d done an excellent job of keeping up a flow of small talk—cleared the plates, then returned with something that looked so delicious Kate’s heart sank. He’d taken such care—but how was she supposed to eat it when her heart had swelled so gigantically it threatened to choke her?

‘Korean-style pork tenderloin with wild and brown rice pilaf and steamed pea pods,’ Scott announced.

As Kate doggedly forced the food down Scott explained a house design he was currently working on. Presumably she offered appropriate rejoinders, because he didn’t make an issue of her lack of vocal enthusiasm.

But then, why would he? It wasn’t conversation he wanted.

He cleared the plates a second time, and while he was gone Kate had a mini-meltdown, remembering her mother’s words. Make it romantic. How did a person turn a contract into something romantic? Move heaven and hell. How? What was the trigger? What would it take to make him love her?

And then he was back, carrying a tray. On the tray was a plate piled high with cookies of some kind and two exquisite boxes—one pink, one purple—decorated with fluttery fairies, shimmering with glitter, finished off with gauzy bows.

‘Whoopie pies,’ Scott said, depositing the tray in front of Kate and taking the seat beside her.

Unable to stop herself, Kate reached for one of the boxes, ran suddenly trembling fingers over the top, pulled the end of the ribbon through her fingertips.

‘Do you like those boxes?’ Scott asked.

She looked at him, said nothing.

‘They’re for Maeve and Molly. Because…’ He shrugged, blushed. ‘Well, you know… I spoke to them about baking whoopie pies and I… Well, since I didn’t know when I was going to see them again, and I was baking anyway, I thought they… Ah, hell, I thought they’d like them. That’s all. And I saw the boxes in a store near my office, so I…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I bought them. No big deal.’

Nice and defiant. Still blushing.

And everything surged in Kate—wrenching at her heart, racing through her blood, shattering every thought in her brain…flooding her with absolute crazy love. She was insanely, wildly in love with him.

She couldn’t pretend any more. Not for one more moment.

And the next moment of her life started precisely now.

‘Hugo,’ she said.