“I'm always amazed at what a small world it is,” she said with a distinct edge in her voice. “You two have done business together, and none of us realized it.”
Oliver had the grace to look slightly guilty. “I just put the two together myself, Kate. We did the job several months ago.”
Randall quirked an eyebrow. Kate responded by lifting her chin in a gesture of disdain. She remembered his crack about the way she looked down her nose and added a glare before she turned to Frank Peltier. “I wish you the best of luck with your new location.”
“Come visit me, and bring your sons,” Frank said, kissing her on the cheek in farewell.
“That would be a long mule ride,” Randall put in.
“Most people fly there,” Frank smiled.
“Not Kate,” Randall said. “She likes to keep her feet firmly on the ground.”
Kate could feel Oliver stiffen as he caught the intimate tone of Randall's teasing. His arm tightened around her as he said, “Excuse us. A few members of our table are leaving and wanted to say good-bye to Kate.”
“I'll come find you for the next waltz,” Randall said.
“I believe that my dance card is filled up.”
Randall leaned down so that only she could hear him. “I didn't come all this way to talk. We will dance.”
“Hmm,” Kate said vaguely as Oliver practically yanked her away.
As soon as the crowd allowed, Kate pulled away from Oliver. “Are you trying to crush my ribs?” she asked, shaking out her flattened skirt.
“I'm trying to get you away from a man who's looking at you as if you were a prostitute,” Oliver said between clenched teeth. “Did he send Frank Peltier over to pimp for him?”
Kate gasped. “Really, Oliver, that's offensive.”
“Is it? I found the way Randall Johnson looked at you more offensive.” Oliver took her arm in a firm grasp. “Let's get back to our table. The Gershons and the Desmonds want to leave.”
They made the trip back to Table Fifteen in silence. Kate was chatting with a builder and his wife when she sensed a presence behind her. Just as she was about to glance around, Randall took her wrist and said, “I hope that you folks will excuse us. Ms. Chilton promised me this waltz.”
Before Kate could think he had propelled her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. “I once heard that dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire,” he drawled. “Of course, I'm not that particular about the position, I'm just interested in the desire.”
“Just be quiet and let me enjoy this,” Kate said.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he obeyed her request. Kate was free to concentrate on the warmth of his palm against hers, and the strength of his arm around her waist. She, Randall, and the lilting music seemed to meld into a single glorious pulse as they spun across the dance floor. Kate tilted her head back and let herself luxuriate in the dark fire that burned in his eyes. When he tightened his arm around her, she welcomed the thrust of his thigh between hers.
The two dancers were happily oblivious to the interest of several watchers. Oliver stood rigid as he followed Kate and Randall's progress around the floor. When he saw Kate's gaze lock with her partner's, his nostrils flared white with fury.
Tom's date gestured towards the dancers. “Did you know that your boss waltzes like a dream?”
“I don't think I've ever noticed him waltzing before tonight,” Tom said.
“Who is that woman? Randall's like a hawk watching a field mouse.”
“Kate Chilton. She's the widowed mother of two small boys. Her husband was an architect, that's why she's here.”
“Your boss and a woman with children? I can't believe it.”
“The strangest part is that the lady seems to be the reluctant player in this game.”
“She doesn't look at all reluctant right now.”
Tom watched the couple for a moment. “She's either playing a very deep game or she really wants him to leave her alone. He invited her to this ball and was in a foul mood when she turned him down.”
“I would have said that Randall Johnson was virtually irresistible, particularly when he wants something.”
“Then I hope he never sets his sights on you.”
The waltz was rising to its triumphant finale, and Kate now knew with certainty that she could never marry Oliver. She couldn't marry any man unless every thought in her mind, every nerve in her body, and every pulse of her heart were as attuned to him as she felt to Randall Johnson at this moment. She reveled in the glorious feeling and despaired at the impossibility of holding on to it. Her mood shattered completely as she finally acknowledged that the attraction she had tried to shrug off had evolved into something much deeper. She felt like sobbing. How could I have been so stupid as to fall in love with this impossible man?
The music swelled and stopped. Randall ceased moving but kept his hold on her. “Come home with me.”
“No. I came with Oliver. I have to leave with Oliver.”
He shifted impatiently. “Call me when you get home. I'll come pick you up.”
“No.”
The music started again, this time a slow, Latin beat. Randall pulled her closer and started dancing. “What are you wearing – armor?” he asked, as he slid his hand up and down the velvet of her bodice.
“A corset. Like Scarlett O'Hara, but with the dubious modern improvement of elastic and hooks.”
“I want to take it off of you.”
“I'm sure you do, but I'm going to do it all by myself.”
“Don't play with me. You want to make love as much as I do.”
She sighed. “What I want and what I know I should do are two different things. I'm not playing, Randall. I have two other people depending on me, and no one, not even you, can make me forget that.”
“So you're going to marry Oliver Russell and be a good little wife and mother.”
“I don't care for the sarcastic tone.”
Randall leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue around her ear.
“Stop that,” she gasped as the warmth and wet sent a shock of sensation blazing through her. She pulled herself out of his arms and fled from the dance floor.
She managed to stumble into the Ladies' Lounge where she collapsed on a stool and buried her face in her hands.
Fifteen
“Randall can be quite a handful, can't he?” a female voice said.
Kate raised her head to find a tall blonde in a form-fitting white sheath applying lipstick at the mirror beside her.
“I saw you dancing with him before I came in, so I assume he's what led to your need for sanctuary.”
The woman examined her reflection for a moment and was apparently satisfied because she tucked her lipstick back into her purse and then swiveled on her stool to face Kate. “I dated Randall a few years ago. He's a wonderful lover, in case you don't know that yet. And while he's interested, he's very interested, but he always moves on.”
“I appreciate your information, but I'm not quite sure why you're telling me this.”
The blonde shrugged gracefully. “You seem like the easily bruised type. I just thought that I should warn you.” She held out her hand. “By the way, I'm Sylvia Dupont.”
Kate had automatically started to put her hand out but stopped abruptly.
“Sylvia Dupont? From Washington?”
Sylvia looked pleased. “I see that my reputation has reached even New York.”
Kate choked back a snort. “My life has gone from soap opera to farce,” she said under her breath. She laughed without humor. “This is rich. Sylvia Dupont is giving me advice.”
Sylvia Dupont clearly was not accustomed to provoking laughter. She stood up. “You're drunk.”
“No, don't leave yet. I want to take a good look at you,” Kate said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to get a good look at the woman my husband had an affair with.”
Sylvia's arrogant poise slipped for a m
oment. Her mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound came out. When she found her voice, it was a whisper.
“You're David's wife.”
“I'm David's widow.” Kate leaned back on her stool with her arms crossed and let her eyes scan Sylvia up and down.
“But you didn't know.”
“Obviously, I did.”
“How? We were so careful that you wouldn't find out until after the divorce.”
Kate used every ounce of self-control she had to remain stone-faced at Sylvia's statement. “You thought that he was going to divorce me and marry you? You're kidding.”
“He was going to marry me. We even stopped seeing each other so that he could ask for the divorce without complications.”
Kate was dying inside but she held her contemptuous pose, merely lifting an eyebrow. “He had no intention of divorcing me. He wouldn't leave the boys, and he wouldn't damage his reputation for a little piece of fun.”
“You're wrong,” Sylvia said but she had turned almost as pale as her dress.
Kate shrugged. “Am I? Married men always claim they're going to leave their wives. It's part of the game. And you weren't his only girlfriend. Didn't you know that?”
She turned to the mirror casually, with the pretense of tucking up loose strands of hair. She hoped Sylvia didn't notice that her hands were shaking.
Sylvia said, “I don't believe you,” but she practically ran out the door.
Kate sat staring unseeingly into the mirror. David had planned to divorce me. She had thought his affair was the worst thing she would have to handle. Wrong again. She waited for her carefully rebuilt confidence to come crashing down. To her relief, her foundation was holding firm.
Suppose Sylvia really loved David? Well, now she feels as betrayed as I did. Kate wondered why she hadn't learned her lesson about revenge by now. Should she feel guilty about the lies she had just made up? The urge to give back a little pain had been irresistible.
“Plus, she knew that he was married,” Kate pointed out to the mirror, “so she was in the wrong from the start.” Her head was pounding. “This is getting much too complicated for me,” she said, dropping her forehead to her hand. “I need to go home.”
Now she had to make her way to Oliver, who was already angry, while avoiding Sylvia and Randall. She suspected that Sylvia would be just as interested in avoiding her, but Randall was probably ticked off, and he would want to let her know about it.
Kate sighed as she arose. If only she could walk across a bed of hot coals instead.
Randall stood alone on the dance floor for a few moments, watching Kate's back disappear into the crowd. Then he stalked over to the RJ Enterprises table and asked Tom's date to dance. As soon as the music ended, he escorted her back to the table and said curt farewells to Tom and the other guests.
Tom watched Randall cut straight through the crowd to the exit. “I'd give my year's bonus to have heard the conversation that led up to that little scene.”
His companion gave an exaggerated shudder. “I'd hate to have been on Kate Chilton's side of it.”
Tom was smiling wickedly. “I think I'm going to enjoy the Monday morning meeting. I just have to think a bit about how best to bring up the subject.”
“You're crazy. Leave it alone.”
Kate stayed on the opposite side of the room as she looked for Oliver. Fortunately, she found him quickly, talking with a couple she didn't know. She greeted them politely and then said in a low voice, “I have a splitting headache. Would you mind if we went home?”
“We should have a last dance before we leave,” he said.
“I'd rather not. I really don't feel well,” she said with complete honesty.
“I'm sure that a dance will chase that headache away,” Oliver said as he led her firmly toward the dance floor.
Kate was astonished by his insistence and looked up at his face. He appeared perfectly calm until she noticed an odd glint in his eyes and a tightness around his mouth. As he swung her into his arms, she summoned up every remaining ounce of her poise so that she could smile up at him and say, “You're right, I feel better already.”
Oliver did not relax. He spun her away from him and brought her back against him hard and close. Kate stumbled slightly but his grasp was so tight that she had no room to fall. She tried to open some space between them but Oliver seemed oblivious to her attempts at loosening his hold. Kate decided that she didn't want to provoke him any further, so she followed his lead until the music ended.
“I think it's time to leave,” Oliver said.
She nodded. All she had to do was get through the drive home – which was admittedly a daunting prospect – and then she could collapse.
Oliver behaved like a perfect gentleman as they made their way to the door, guiding Kate through the crowd with a light touch and stopping to exchange a word with the acquaintances they encountered.
Outside, he fell silent as they walked to the parking garage and got in the car for the trip home. As the BMW glided through the night, Kate was caught up in the mental kaleidoscope of Sylvia and David.
“I ran into Sylvia Dupont in the Ladies' Lounge,” she said.
He started. “I'm sorry; I didn't know she was there. I wouldn't have had that happen for the world. How did you know who she was?”
“She introduced herself.”
Oliver winced. “She's a cool customer, but I wouldn't have expected that.”
“Oh, she had no idea who I was when she did it,” Kate said with a brittle laugh. “We were just having a casual in-front-of-the-mirror chat.”
Oliver did not respond immediately, so Kate decided to take the plunge. Somehow the words and the tears she had been stifling for the last hour got entangled in her throat so that it came out on a sob. “Sylvia claimed that David was planning to divorce me.”
Oliver made an angry sound. “He had stopped seeing her months before he died.”
The tears escaped down Kate's cheeks. “They did that to keep Sylvia out of the divorce, to keep it simple.” Another sob forced its way out of her throat.
Oliver swore. “Sylvia was just trying to upset you.”
“Maybe David didn't mean it, but Sylvia thought he did. Did he talk with you about it?”
“Of course not. I'm sure that he said it just to keep Sylvia happy.”
Kate's tears subsided as she peered at Oliver in the flickering light of street lamps and oncoming headlights. She found that she couldn't read his face at all and turned away in frustration. “This isn't the exit for my house! Where are we going?”
“To my house. I want to talk with you where we won't be interrupted.”
Amazed at his insensitivity, Kate put her hand to her aching head. “Could we please postpone this until a better time?”
“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said, guiding the car steadily through the streets of Hoboken and into the garage of his brownstone.
Kate considered refusing to get out of the car, but Oliver leaned across her to open the door, making her feel claustrophobic. She got out as fast as her voluminous skirts would allow.
The first floor of Oliver's home was an excellent advertisement for his design abilities. He had gutted the interior and created an open space made interesting by exquisite architectural details and beautiful antiques. Usually Kate spent her first few minutes there lost in admiration at the perfection of the proportions, but tonight she was in no mood to appreciate anything other than a quick exit. She dropped her purse on a table by the door and stopped a few feet into the room.
Oliver flicked on the lights that were carefully placed to illuminate the best features of the rooms. “Sit down, Kate,” he said, gesturing to a Biedermeier settee.
Kate hesitated a moment. Oliver simply stood and waited, his gaze locked on her unwaveringly. With a resigned shrug, Kate took the seat he indicated and Oliver sat down across from her.
“You've been through a terrible ordeal, and I blame myself. I didn't expect S
ylvia to be at the ball; she's never come before.”
Kate made a gesture of dismissal. “You aren't responsible for Sylvia Dupont's social engagements. In a way, I'm glad to have met her. It makes the pain easier to deal with because I have a flesh-and-blood human being to focus on, rather than some nebulous image of the perfect mistress.”
“I've always admired your strength,” Oliver said, coming around the table to sit beside her.
Kate inched away from him. He wasn't as physically imposing as Randall, but he was tall, and she had felt his strength on the dance floor.
Oliver turned to her. “Now it's my turn to be strong. Kate, I want to share your life: to be a father to Clay and Patrick, to support you so that you can stay home again. I'll protect you from people like Sylvia Dupont and Randall Johnson. I want to marry you and cherish you as you deserve to be cherished.” He took both her hands in his. “I love you. And I will never be unfaithful to you.”
When Kate sat silent, Oliver let go of her hands and got up to pace across the room. He turned abruptly and said, “I talked David out of asking you for a divorce.”
Kate leaned back as though he had slapped her. “So it was true.”
Oliver made a gesture of impatience. “David didn't know what he wanted. Sylvia had money and a position in society that he found immensely tempting; she was a shiny new toy for him.”
In two strides Oliver was leaning over her, his hands braced behind her on the back of the couch. “Let me keep all that ugliness away from you for the rest of your life.”
Oliver's declaration sounded stifling, and Kate desperately wanted to escape from the prison that he had created with his arms. “Stop. I've worked hard to make myself a new life. I've already told you I need time to think,” she hissed.
Oliver's eyes picked up a hard glint.
“You didn't think with Randall Johnson. I saw the way you looked at him, and now you're going to look at me the same way,” he said, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back to kiss her hard on the mouth. Kate pushed against his shoulders, but she had no leverage. When she tried to slide down out of his grasp, he tightened his grip on her hair and knelt over her on the sofa, trapping her in the fabric of her skirts. He released her mouth to slide his lips down her arched throat to the swell of her breast. His free hand moved down to circle her nipple through the velvet. “I've wanted to touch you for so long.”
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