Randall opened his eyes. “Forget the kitchen,” he said with a wicked grin.
Kate laughed but turned around and offered him her open zipper. He fastened her up so quickly and competently that she couldn't help contemplating how much practice he must have had. She adjusted her skirt and then braced herself as she said, “I'd love to stay for dinner but I have to coach a soccer game tomorrow morning. I need to get some sleep.”
It amazed Kate how quickly Randall Johnson could go from sexy to scary. When he focused those eyes on you, you knew you should run. Randall buttoned his shirt without looking away from her. She fidgeted uncomfortably but stood her ground.
“You're very good at that, aren't you?”
He raised his eyebrows again. “At what?”
“Intimidating someone without saying a word.”
He tucked his shirt in, still watching her. “Silence is a powerful weapon.”
He was dressing with an almost insolent deliberation so Kate turned and stalked out of the room. She gathered up her purse and jacket and headed for the hall. She heard Randall go out onto the patio to retrieve the jacket he had pushed off her shoulders earlier.
She was balancing against the hall table, pulling on her second shoe when he appeared beside her with a jingle of car keys. He held her jacket for her again, and Kate was astounded by the fact that the slightest touch of this man's hand made her entire body vibrate.
Randall still hadn't said a word as he ushered her to a sleek Jaguar, and Kate felt her temper rising. Once he had settled into the driver's seat, she said, “You know, it's customary to at least attempt to make polite conversation.”
“Okay. You're great in bed.”
Kate gasped, and then started to laugh. “If that's how you make polite conversation, you must move in unusual social circles.”
The corner of Randall's mouth curved slightly.
Kate decided to drop it as he put the car in motion. She took another quick look sideways and found his profile so distant and unapproachable that she too fixed her gaze on the road. He seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely.
Randall was ticked off. He had been looking for entertainment tonight, but he had gotten more than he bargained for. He had had no expectation of making love to Kate. He had been toying with her, seeing how far she would let him go before he got his face slapped, either literally or verbally. He hadn't anticipated her melting into him or her sexy underwear or his own explosive reaction to all of the above. Hell, he was getting aroused again just thinking about it.
In many ways, he mused, it could be considered the perfect date: great sex and good-bye. No dinner, no small talk, no strings. But instead of being grateful, he felt mad as hell. He was choking on the undeniable fact that Kate Chilton had set out to seduce him and had succeeded.
During the silent ride, Kate was trying to formulate a farewell that would be cool, sophisticated and final. Her plan had succeeded. She felt her lips curl in a satisfied smile. It was worth it, and now she had a good reason never to attend a Princeton alumni party again.
Randall turned into her driveway and stopped the car. Leaning back against his door, he sat watching her in silence. The shadows emphasized the dark glint of his eyes and threw his cheekbones into sharp relief. Before Kate could say anything, he was out of the car and opening her door. She let him help her up the steps, then turned to say good-bye.
“Randall, I want to thank you...”
“All the ladies do,” he said, taking hold of her chin.
“But...”
“Shhhh,” he said as he bent down to lightly brush her lips with his. Then he deepened the kiss. Kate kissed him right back.
He lifted his head to say, “I'll call you.”
And then he was heading back down the front steps.
Panic drove Kate to rudeness. “No, don't,” she said loudly. “This won't happen again –”
“I think it will, darlin'.” He kept walking as he drawled over his shoulder, “I'm not a one-night stand.”
Five
“It's seven a.m. on a beautiful September morning. The current temperature is fifty-two degrees, going up to...” Kate punched off the radio alarm. The scrapes on the backs of her legs hurt where the sheet brushed them. “Rock burns instead of rug burns. What was I thinking?” she groaned.
Her stomach was queasy from too much wine, and it got worse as images from the night before pounded through her brain. She had felt satisfaction in carrying out her plan, not to mention a certain physical afterglow, when she had crawled into bed last night. Now, in the cold light of morning, she winced at the memory of her outrageous behavior. Her only comfort was that nobody knew about it except Randall Johnson. And she had no intention of ever looking him in the eye again.
“That's one more thing to chalk up to your account, David,” Kate muttered to the ceiling. “I let you drag me down to your level. But it won't happen again.”
With that resolution, she threw off the covers. She dressed, hauled two sleepy young men out of dreamland and got them all to their soccer game on time. For two blessed hours, she concentrated on penalty kicks, player rotations and post-game Dunkin' Donuts. When they got home, Kate herded them into the den for a serious family conference.
Clay and Patrick glanced at each other silently, and then sat down in the two armchairs across from the couch. Kate dropped onto the sofa and gave them a straight look.
“You know that your dad was a partner in C/R/G.”
The two boys nodded.
“Well, he made the business very successful and to keep that up, Oliver and Ted need to get a new partner to take his place. That means that the new partner will buy Dad's share in the business from us.”
Clay clearly felt that he needed to help his mother get through this discussion. “So we won't get a share of the profits anymore?”
Kate nodded. “That's right. So we're going to have to make some changes and I want to talk with you about them.”
“Mom,” Clay said. “We can get jobs.”
“Yeah,” Patrick chimed in. “When I'm sixteen, I'll work at McDonald's.”
Kate's eyes blurred with tears. “You guys are won-derful, but I'm the one who's going to get a job.”
She almost laughed at the skeptical expressions on their faces. “I was a structural engineer when I met Dad, you know. And I worked as a consulting engineer even after you were born, Clay.”
“But that was a long time ago,” Clay said. “Do you remember all that stuff?”
Kate sighed because she wasn't sure herself. But she said firmly, “Of course I do. And I loved building things. Your dad and I worked on one skyscraper together. We showed it to you in New York City, remember?”
Clay looked at Patrick. “That was the day you wanted to go to the video arcade.”
“And you wanted to go to the Museum of Natural History,” Patrick said. “We went to see buildings instead.”
“We also went to the Statue of Liberty,” Kate pointed out.
“That was cool,” Clay admitted.
“I miss going on adventures with Dad,” Patrick said in a small voice.
“Me, too,” Clay said.
“We all do,” Kate said, her heart breaking for them— and herself. She brought the conversation back to the original topic. “The problem is that it probably will take me a while to get a good job, and right now I think we need some extra money to tide us over. I hate to do it but I think that we're going to have to sell the Porsche.”
Patrick opened his mouth but Clay stopped him with a warning glance. “It's okay, Mom, we understand,” he said. “Mr. Hennessey might be interested. And he'd take good care of it.”
“I'll call him first,” Kate promised. Their neighbor, Tim Hennessey, had sometimes worked on the car with David and the boys before they took it out for its once-a-week drive.
“And if he doesn't want it, maybe your boyfriend, Mr. Johnson, would buy it. He's rich,” Patrick said helpfully.
Kate
choked, and then quickly recovered enough to say, “I don't think I'll offer it to Mr. Johnson. He's got several cars already.”
She patted the sofa on both sides of her. “That's enough serious stuff. How about a hug for Mom?” The boys rolled their eyes and dragged their feet, but they stayed beside her on the couch for a long time.
Monday morning found Kate on the telephone to every former business associate and client she could unearth from her old Rolodex. She had concluded that with some creative scrimping and saving she could get by with a part-time job. That way she could still spend time with Clay and Patrick. She had also braced herself to beg rides for the boys, since she wouldn't be able to drive them around if she was at work. She hated to impose on her friends, but she realized she was going to have to sacrifice her pride along with the Porsche. The responses to her business calls were discouraging, so she welcomed the interruption when Georgia called at lunchtime.
“Kate, are you mad at me?”
Kate was taken by surprise. “No. Why?”
“Because you didn't tell me that you had a date with Randall Johnson on Friday night. How could you keep that from your best friend? I'm hurt, I'm insulted, I'm dying of curiosity.”
Kate groaned. “Who told you that?”
“Patrick. On Sunday when you were out jogging with Gretchen.”
“He didn't tell me that you called!”
“Does that surprise you? But don't try to change the subject. You've been holding out on me and I'm going to get to the bottom of this. What happened?”
Kate sighed. Georgia wasn't a lawyer for nothing; she never let up on a witness. In this case, however, Kate had no intention of telling her what had really happened. She hated to lie – and she wasn't very good at it – but she let her genuine embarrassment show in her voice as she made up her story. “Well, I kept stewing over what you had said about David and finally I just called Randall Johnson at his office and asked him if his dinner invitation was still open.”
“You must have been furious. The Kate Chilton I knew would never call a man. You go, girl!”
“It wasn't such a great idea. He took me out to dinner but I think he was bored.” Kate hoped that downplaying the date would keep Georgia from asking questions she couldn't think of an answer for.
“Why do you think that?”
“He didn't want to talk about his work and he wasn't much interested in Clay and Patrick's extracurricular activities, so we sort of ran out of subjects to discuss,” Kate ad-libbed.
Georgia sounded suspicious. “Where did he take you?”
Kate came up with the name of an expensive New York restaurant she and David had gone to once and prayed that it was still in business.
“Very nice,” Georgia approved. “What did you eat?”
Now Kate knew that Georgia was trying to trip her up. “Georgia!”
“All right. Listen, I don't know what happened between you and Randall Johnson, but I do know that you've never in your life bored a man at dinner. You realize that if you married him, you'd never have to worry about money.”
“That's not funny.”
“It's true.”
Kate was silent a moment, then stated with quiet vehemence, “I will not depend on a man ever again.”
“It was just a passing thought. I don't really see him as husband material anyway. Many women have tried and failed to get a wedding ring out of him. Although I do know one lady who got a very nice diamond bracelet,” Georgia said in a musing tone. “You could always pawn it. Sorry, there goes my other line. I'll talk to you later.”
When Clay and Patrick came home from school, they requested permission to go on a mysterious errand. Since they promised to stay together and remain in the neighborhood, Kate let them go. She was starting to fix dinner when they came in the back door looking very pleased with themselves.
“Mom, we have an important announcement,” Patrick said.
Kate stopped chopping carrots. They looked so handsome standing shoulder to shoulder that she had to smile. The brothers exchanged a silent look and then Clay took over.
“We have a job,” he said, breaking into a proud grin.
Kate came around the counter to stand in front of them. “You do? That's wonderful! What kind of job?”
“We're walking dogs,” Clay said.
“Four dogs,” Patrick grinned. “Max, Jonesy, Sherri and Thunder. Every weekday after school.”
Clay said seriously, “We'll make enough money to buy lunch at school and have some left over. We thought that it would help.”
Kate gathered them into a hug. “I'm so proud of you two. It will help a lot. You are the greatest children a mother could have.”
Clay realized that his mother was crying and said, “Mom, we wanted to cheer you up!”
Kate smiled through the blur. “You have cheered me up more than you can possibly imagine.” She stood up and grabbed a Kleenex. “This calls for a celebration! We'll have ice cream sundaes for dessert.”
“Cool,” Clay said as he hauled his backpack up the stairs to start his homework.
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, following his brother. “Too bad we still have to do homework.” He looked hopefully at Kate. She gave him a fond smile but waved him upstairs. “Oh, well,” he sighed.
Kate stood in the kitchen, her tears flowing freely, as she let the torrent of maternal pride sweep through her. She felt a small surge of her old confidence; she couldn't have been a total failure if she had raised Clay and Patrick.
The three of them would be just fine.
Tom Rogan walked past Randall's administrative assistant, Gail Anderson, on his way to the CEO's office. “Tread carefully,” she said, glancing up from her computer screen. “He's touchy this morning.”
Tom tried to hand off the sheaf of papers he was carrying. “Then you take these into him. I prefer not to get my head bitten off so early in the week.”
Gail laughed and waved him past. “Just don't tell him anything he doesn't want to hear and you'll be fine.”
“My job is to tell him things he doesn't want to hear.” Tom braced his shoulders and with an air of martyrdom that made Gail laugh again, walked into Randall Johnson's office.
His boss was reading and deleting E-mails at a dizzying pace. He glanced up quickly and then went back to his task. “You don't look happy, Tom.”
Tom sat down and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Despite his banter with Gail, he was completely at ease.
“I'm not happy because you're not going to be happy,” he said, leaning forward and pushing some of his papers across Randall's desk. “It's the Mason deal. Gill Gillespie and his Texas lawyers are at it again. They object to clauses 22c and 29f this time.”
“Now how the hell am I supposed to remember what clauses 22c and 29f are?” Randall said irritably as he swiveled to face Tom.
“They're circled in red,” Tom said neutrally, as he pointed to the contract.
Randall quickly skimmed the offending sentences. “That's it? Fine, take them out. Then tell those sons of bitches that I'm coming down personally on” – he checked his computer screen –”October twenty-third to sign the deal. If they haven't signed off on the contract by then, the whole thing's off.”
Tom jotted the date down. “Why are we wasting our time on Mason Bank? If you want to buy a bank I can find half a dozen with better balance sheets. And less annoying lawyers.”
Randall's smile disappeared. “It reminds me of my youth.”
“Don't tell me that you're getting sentimental all of a sudden.”
“Have I made a bad deal yet?”
“No,” Tom admitted. “But this one isn't making sense to me.”
“Just get it done,” Randall said, as he turned back to his computer.
Tom recognized his cue to leave but he felt like probing Randall's mood. “How was your date on Friday?”
Randall ignored him.
“That bad?” Tom said in a saccharinely sympathetic tone. �
�Well, I'll leave you to brood over your lack of success with the lady.”
“There's nothing to brood over. If anything, I was too successful.”
Tom sat forward in his chair. “How can you be too successful?”
“We never made it to dinner.”
“Incredible,” Tom said, shaking his head in admiration. “You seduced her in the back of your car?”
“Why am I having this discussion with you?”
“Because this is as close as you get to a locker room bragging session, and we all need to brag about our sex life occasionally.”
“If you have some more business to discuss, go ahead. Otherwise, this meeting is over.”
Tom got up to go. “First, a sentimental attachment to a two-bit regional bank. Next, complaints about a woman who's too willing. I'm starting to worry about you; you must be getting soft.”
There was nothing soft about Randall's expression, however, and Tom decided that retreat would be wise. As he passed Gail's desk, he bent down and whispered, “I wouldn't go in there for at least a half an hour.”
By Friday, Kate's fragile optimism was fraying around the edges. No one had a part-time job for a civil engineer or even a draftsman, and she was getting desperate.
She had come to regard the ring of the telephone with the same enthusiasm as she would the rattle of a diamondback. She couldn't ignore it in case it was a job offer. But each time she picked up the receiver she braced herself to either be turned down by another engineering firm or, even worse, to hear Randall Johnson's drawl on the line. He had said he would call, and she was quite sure that he didn't make idle threats. Just thinking of her evening with him made her blush with shame. However, sometimes as she lay in bed on the edge of falling asleep, memories of the physical pleasures drifted through her mind.
She enjoyed those memories more than she wanted to admit.
That afternoon Clay and Patrick presented Kate with their first week's pay. Together, the three of them cleaned out a cookie jar, labeled it Dog Dough and stashed their earnings in it. They all agreed that whatever they hadn't spent at the end of the following week would be divided equally between the boys.
A Bridge to Love Page 5