That wouldn’t be treating her gently. And he would never be happy with once. He wanted always. Kevin said he wasn’t the type to settle down, but Kevin hadn’t gotten a good look at Katherine. Hadn’t listened to her laugh or seen the well of despair in her eyes. With a little persistence and a little patience he could heal her hurt and hear her laugh for the rest of his life.
That meant a cold shower and a long talk. He turned on the cold water full blast and stepped under it without taking off his jeans.
Chapter 7
When she opened her door at his knock four hours later, she looked hunted and afraid. He had mopped up his kitchen and bathroom and taken Archer for a long run waiting for the hardware store to open. That pretty much burned out most of the frustration, but upon seeing her again, he realized it hadn’t come near to reducing his desire.
“You came back,” she said. She dressed in worn jeans and a holey sweater. Her eyes looked a little puffy and her face seemed pale as if she had been crying, and he wondered who for. Him? Herself? Gary?
“I told you I would.” Trying not to touch her on the cramped landing, he stepped through the door holding up a plastic hardware store bag. “I got what I need to fix the faucet.”
She stumbled up a step bringing her eye level with him. She held one arm across her chest. “You don’t have to do this. I can get Randy—”
“No.” Brushing against her sort of accidentally, he walked past her up the steps. He wanted to gather her to him again. She looked as if she needed to be held, but he didn’t want a repeat of this morning. After what happened this morning, he was pretty sure he'd end up shouting at her. They had to talk, and they couldn’t do that at top volume. “He wouldn't fix it right this time, either. I promised I would fix it, and I will.”
She followed him up the stairs to the kitchen where she'd carpeted the floor with pastel bath towels in an attempt to clean up. All her pots and pans stacked in front of the stove except the one he’d used to redirect the fountain earlier. For some reason she hadn’t moved it. His tool box sat where he’d dropped it as did the wrench under the sink. Did she not even want to touch his tools? Was she that angry? Or was this fear? He hated the idea she might be afraid of him.
“How bad is the damage downstairs?” she asked. She stopped in the doorway and stood with her arms wrapped around herself. The pose brought to mind the image of her in her wet white nightgown. No, the long run that had worn out Archer had not cooled the tiniest portion of his passion.
He crawled under the sink to attach the shut off knob and get her out of his line of vision. “It wasn’t bad. A lot of the water went down the walls and into the basement. I have to wash a few dishes, but otherwise I’m all cleaned up.”
“Nothing was damaged?”
“No. Most of what came through the ceiling went into the bathroom anyway.” He had to work to keep his voice light. Tension crackling under the surface of her words. Ducking out from under the sink, he looked around the room. “It looks like you need to do some laundry.”
“Yes, I will. I can do it while you’re on duty tomorrow night if you don’t want me underfoot.” Her voice sounded soft with hopelessness.
“You won’t be underfoot.” Then he stood up and moved the pot covering the knob stem.
“I can wash your dishes for you. You know, to make up for getting them dirty in the first place.”
He looked at her, trying for once to see her as a person and not as someone he wanted to hold. She seemed very small and unnerved. As he watched, her cheeks turned pink, blending into the scratches he left there this morning. Her shoulders tensed, and he wondered if he would find her in the back yard playing fetch with Archer again. Between him taking Archer for runs and her playing fetch, the dog would be in great shape. They would still be wound up like tin toys, but the dog would sleep soundly. “It’s up to you. If you want you can get a load started now.”
“I suppose I could.” She started gathering damp towels off the floor. “Hopefully we’ll get a warm spell soon so the carpet will dry out.”
He turned away, hoping she would feel comfortable enough to come closer if he wasn’t facing her. This was like coaxing wild deer to eat out of his hand. He dropped the washer in place and then looked back at it. There should have been another washer there. He picked his washer off and double checked. No washer. “I think I found the problem.”
She stopped next to him with a pile of towels draped over her arm. “What is it?”
“Randy installed this?”
She nodded, looking from his eyes to his hands.
“He forgot the washer. He must have kept tightening until the screw stripped and the stem snapped.”
She leaned forward and looked at the knob stem. He could smell her hair and feel her hip and arm brushing against his. Maybe Archer would like to go for another long run this afternoon.
“I am so stupid. I should have known better than to hire him.”
Her sour comment brought him back to the subject at hand. “It’s not your fault. He told you he could do it.” From this position, he could put his arm around her shoulders. He could pull her against him in a comforting way. Just comforting, not attacking. Wait, hadn’t he been trying to comfort her this morning?
“He said he could, but obviously he couldn’t.”
Jack shifted away before the urge to draw her back into his arms overwhelmed him. “Well, he lied.” He dropped the washer in place. “I think we should talk about what happened this morning.”
Tension flickered through her. She stepped away leaving one towel on the floor. The one under his feet. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”
“Katherine, something happened here. Something really…good. I think we need to talk.” He turned, crouching to get out a screwdriver, and realized she had left. He heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close. Well, she wasn’t talking, but she was doing her laundry. That had to count for something.
* * * *
Katherine opened the washer lid and stuffed her towels into it. This was not a good decision. Now, in an effort to get out of a conversation she didn’t want to have, she had locked herself into being around him all day.
She hadn’t been sure he would come back after this morning, regardless of what he said. Promises were made to be broken, weren’t they?
But he had come back. She had listened to him moving around in his apartment this morning, as she tried to sop up the water in the carpet before it filtered through and made his mess bigger. He’d taken a shower first, which seemed like an odd decision since they were both soaked already, unless that kiss had affected him as much as it had her.
The thought of his kiss brought all the sensations of it rushing back to her. The dizzying, aching, hunger of it. She had never felt so overwhelmed. The touch of his lips on hers, his hands pulling her against him, the sweet, salty taste of his skin. Her entire body burned with the contact. That one kiss held more passion than her entire relationship with Gary.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she shivered. She needed to get her wits about her before she saw him, otherwise she might end up deeper in this mess. She’d said she would wash his dishes. Maybe elbow deep in soapy water she’d be able to keep her mind off his body and his lips and his…
The washer waited for her to add detergent and close the lid. She looked around for her detergent and realized she’d forgotten it. Left on autopilot, her brain obviously didn't work very well. Running back upstairs would put her back in his company before she was ready. If she was ever going to be ready. She borrowed a cup of his laundry soap and started upstairs.
Leaning in the bathroom before venturing to the kitchen, she checked the ceiling. The water hadn’t stained the bathroom paint at all, but the kitchen ceiling tiles had a couple of wet spots that would become ugly brown stains. He’d heaped all of his dishes on the counter. She started filling one bowl of the sink and found dish soap in the cupboard in exactly the spot she’d kept it when this had been
her kitchen. When she had the wash sink filled, she lifted out the light blue dish drainer and started filling the other bowl with rinse water. She picked up the first plate and looked at it. His dishes were real ceramic. White with black stripes around the rims. Eight each of plates, dessert plates, saucers, dainty teacups, and soup bowls. Why did he have such a nice dishes? When she met Gary, he had been eating off paper plates so he wouldn’t have to wash. But Gary had been twenty and only on his own for two years. Maybe if he’d gotten to be Jack’s age as a bachelor, he would have gotten some real dishes.
Why was Jack still a bachelor? Was every woman in the city blind? If he weren’t a firefighter, Katherine would have been overjoyed to have him look at her. To be honest, she was overjoyed anyway. What had she thought before he moved in? Polite, handy and heroic? He’d saved the day this morning. She didn’t know what she would have done without him. Called Randy? She shuddered, imagining the scene this morning played out with Randy. No, she’d never let him touch her. She’d have shouted at him, skipping the kisses. And she’d have managed to put on some clothes before he showed up.
Polite, handy, and heroic. If only it weren’t for that last part.
She picked up a dainty teacup and dipped it into the water.
“You are washing the dishes. Here, I’ll dry.” He opened a drawer and took out a dish towel covered with butterflies.
She wanted to tell him no, but with him so close she doubted she could form a coherent sentence. Dipping the teacup in the rinse water she held it out to him. “Nice dishes.”
“They used to be my mom’s. She got a new set when I moved out on my own and gave the old ones to me. I think she got a new set so she could give me the old ones. I never use these teacups.” He held one up and it looked tiny in his hand. “I keep them to keep the set together. Did you get your towels going?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat because her voice seemed to be stuck in it. “Yes. I had to appropriate some of your laundry detergent.”
“You what?”
She glanced up at him and realized her mistake. Looking at him was bad. It made thinking more difficult than necessary. Thinking was already nearly impossible. “Borrowed. I forgot mine upstairs.”
“I thought you took off pretty fast.” He picked up a stack of saucers and put them in the cupboard. “You know I still think we should talk about this.”
“I’d rather not. I’m trying to forget it happened.” She blinked back tears. That wasn’t true. She would never forget. She didn’t want to. No matter how much she wished it hadn’t happened, she would never want to forget.
“Why?”
How could he sound so reasonable? So calm? Did he feel that detached after their little encounter this morning? “Because I just—I can’t—Will you stop pushing me?”
He stepped back from the sink. “I’m not pushing. As I remember, I wasn’t the one who started things this morning.”
“Yes, well, I’m humiliated and would rather let it go.” She dipped her hands in the hot water feeling for another plate.
“I was delighted.”
She turned on him. Delighted. He had the nerve to say delighted? He—he looked hurt. Her fury drained away. “Oh, Jack. Can’t you see it’s not you I don’t want, but what you represent?”
“What do I represent?”
“You’re Pandora’s Box. You’re the worst thing in the world for me.”
Jack folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not very good at debates, so why don’t you spell it out?”
Dish water dripped off her fingers and splashed on the floor. “Do you know the story of Pandora’s Box?”
“Don’t use your education on me. My sister does that, and I hate it.” His jaw tightened.
Katherine looked at him. “I think no matter how nice the box is to look at or how much I want to open it, I shouldn’t. There’s bad things in there. Do you follow me?”
“No. That doesn’t make any sense at all. First of all, I’m not a box.” He tried to smile, but it wilted into a smirk
“I was making an allusion to Pandora’s Box. Pandora was given a beautiful box by the gods. They told her to never open it. Once they told her she couldn’t look in the box, it was all she could think about. So she opened it and out flew all the plagues of the world. Don’t you see? All I have to do is know that I can’t have you to want you.” It sounded plausible, even if she didn't believe it.
“So you’re trying to say it’s not me you want.”
“It’s not you. It’s that I can’t have you.”
“Why can’t you?”
Katherine held her breath. How was she supposed to explain to him about her vow to never fall in love with another hero when she couldn’t justify it to herself? Telling him she couldn’t date her tenant would be too easily fixed. He’d move out and start sending flowers. Jack seemed like the sending flowers sort. The rest of his life he’d be trying to woo her, and she would spend the rest of her life resisting. They were a shipwreck. “We’re wrong for each other, Jack. I would end up hurting you as much, or more, than you would hurt me. Trust me, I’ve been there. This bed of roses has too many thorns.”
He stared at her, but sagged back against the counter as if he’d lost the will to stand up.
“I think this is going to be bad for both of us. I don’t know if I’m ready to start another relationship.” It would be best for both of them, she told herself. She had to be an adult. Clasping her wet hands together controlled some of their shaking. One stride would take her into his arms. One stride and everything would be all right, for now. But the first time she heard the siren might undo her. “I’m afraid.” That was as close to the truth as she could manage.
He surveyed her for a long minute. She watched his eyes move across her body, not lingering anywhere. Then he sighed and shrugged. “If that’s how you feel. We can still be friends, right?”
She nodded.
“Are we going to finish the dishes?”
She turned back to the sink. The water had gotten cold and her hands were shaking so hard she could barely pick up the plates. How was she supposed to be friends with him when standing next to him sent her into a slow burn? She handed him the last plate. “I’m going to check my towels.”
Katherine fled to the basement. She pulled the heavy wet towels out of the washer and stuffed them in the dryer, trying not to focus on Jack. Not think about his smile. Not think of his eyes. Not think about him at all. By the time she went back upstairs, he’d moved into the living room and was sitting at the coffee table with a box in his hands.
“What’s that?”
“Trivial Pursuit.”
“I haven’t played that since college.”
“You have time while your towels dry,” he suggested. “I thought we could play a round.”
“Is this one of those games you’re good at?” she asked, settling on the floor, keeping eighteen inches of carpet between them as a buffer. With that and the game between them, she might be able to maintain some sanity.
“You won the last game I was good at.” He opened the box.
“Touché.” She picked up a box of question cards. “Do you play the long version or the short version?”
“Usually short. If we’re going to play the long version, I can get out Monopoly. Besides, I don’t think your laundry will last that long. What color do you want?”
“Brown. Art and literature is my specialty.” She smiled. It felt nice. They could be friends. They could play board games and watch TV. It would be enough.
Handing her the brown game piece, he said, “I wonder why.” He took the yellow game piece out and set it in the middle of the board before handing her a die. “Roll to see who goes first.”
“Where’s Archer?” She looked around realizing she hadn’t seen the dog since she came in.
Waving in the direction of his bedroom, Jack coughed. “Sacked out. We went for a long run this morning so he’s pretty tired.”
“I got yo
u two up awfully early.”
“Gotten up at worse times.”
Suppressing a shudder, she tossed the die across the board. It stopped on three. “Anybody’s game there.”
His roll came up a six. “My lucky day,” he grumbled. Rolling again, he got a four. “A history question please.”
“What do the fighting ships Arizona, Oklahoma and Utah have in common?” she read. Then she flipped the card over and looked at the answer.
“They were all sunk at Pearl Harbor.”
“Do you sit around night memorizing the answers? You get a wedge.”
He took out his wedge while she rolled and moved her piece onto Entertainment. “You could take Art and Literature.”
“I like to get the difficult ones out of the way first.”
Jack pulled a card. “What film’s climax takes place on the face of Mount Rushmore?”
“Wait. I know this one. It’s a Hitchcock movie.” Katherine rested her fingertips on the table. “It’s not Rear Window. It’s not Strangers on a Train. Is it Vertigo?”
“North by Northwest. Also known as The Man in Lincoln’s Nose.” He intoned the answer like a game show host as he slid the card into the back of the box.
“It is not. The Man in Lincoln’s Nose?”
“I told you, I have a friend who’s a movie junkie. My turn.” Picking up the die, he rolled. A four moved him onto Entertainment.
Katherine groaned. “What film featured Bogey as Dobbsy?”
Jack smiled. “You’re not going to get mad are you?”
“Don't tell me you know the answer to this too?” She put the card in the back of the box. “I knew it. You memorized all the answers. You’re a…a ringer.”
“The Treasure of Sierra Madre.” His long fingers flicked the die in her direction as he got out his wedge. “And I’m not a ringer, I just happen to know a lot of useless trivia.”
She rolled a five and landed on Arts and Literature. “Finally. Maybe I can catch up.”
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