A Bridge to Love

by Nancy Herkness

  “From the Four Seasons?”

  He shrugged. “Julian and I are old friends. And I owed you dinner there anyway,” he added with a flash of a smile.

  “I thought you were going to stop being arrogant and high-handed.” Kate made an effort to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.

  “I have to ease into it slowly.”

  “If I weren't so hungry, I'd throw this shrimp cocktail at you,” she said as she sat down and pulled the covers off the dishes. “Mmm, corn chowder with crabmeat. What heaven!”

  She was halfway through the meal when she realized that Randall was just watching her. “Aren't you going to eat?”

  He shook his head. “I had a plate of meat loaf in the cafeteria. And I'm enjoying the sight of a lady who likes her food.”

  “You're going to make me slurp my soup or something equally gauche if you just sit there staring at me.”

  “I can't stay much longer anyway. I have to be in Texas tomorrow on business, and I have a plane to catch tonight. But I had to make sure that you ate something.”

  “Sometimes you are the nicest man,” Kate said, as her heart sank at the thought of his absence. “And other times you are the most annoying one.”

  “Keep 'em guessing, that's my motto,” he said grinning at her. “Finish your dinner. I'll have some of those mussels to keep you company.”

  They ate in companionable silence. After the dishes were stowed back in the cooler, Randall checked his watch and stood up.

  “Call my private number when you hear anything and leave a message. I'll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Kate stood up, too. “I don't have your private number.”

  Randall looked at her. “It's the same one I've given you already. Twice, in fact.”

  “I've thrown it away already. Twice, in fact.”

  He pulled out a business card to write on. “Don't throw this one away.”

  “I won't.”

  “Call Gail if you need anything quickly. And don't worry, Clay will be fine.”

  Then he leaned down and kissed her. It began gently, but when Kate tilted her head to give him a better angle, he pulled her against him with arms that felt like steel bands across her back. Kate ran her fingers up into his hair and held on, releasing all her pent-up guilt and worry and gratitude into the kiss.

  When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with some of the arousal she expected, but something else that she couldn't quite decipher was in his eyes as well. He took a ragged breath. “Where's that broom closet when you need it?”

  Kate disengaged herself from his arms. Unsure of how to react, she pulled out the crutch of correct social behavior. “Have a good trip.”

  He made no attempt to hold on to her. Yet he continued to stare at her with that enigmatic expression on his face.

  “We'll finish this when I get back,” he finally said.

  Then he literally turned on his heel and walked out.

  “Good-bye,” Kate called.

  She sat down slowly, aware of an aching sense of abandonment. It was ridiculous; she couldn't expect someone as busy as Randall Johnson to sit with her for hours in a hospital waiting room. He had already done far more than she had any right to hope. But when he kissed her like that, she wanted the moon and the stars from him.

  “Mrs. Chilton?”

  Kate stopped pacing and turned to find Dr. Lane smiling at her.

  She smiled tentatively in response. “You look pleased. Did it go well?”

  “Extremely well. Sit down for a minute,” he said, seating himself beside her. “Clay was lucky; the ER doctor did a good job of preserving the tissues. I was able to reattach all the muscles and ligaments without any loss of length. The nerves look good, too. If he works hard at his physical therapy, he'll never know he got bitten.”

  “Oh thank God!” Kate breathed. “And thank you so very much.”

  “Some people accuse me of thinking I am God,” the surgeon joked.

  His jubilant mood reassured Kate even more than his words did. “When can I see my son?”

  “He's in the recovery room now, and he'll stay there until the anesthesia wears off. If you'd like to be with him when he wakes up, you may sit with him.”

  Kate stood instantly. As they walked down the hall, she asked, “How long do you want to keep him here?”

  “I'd like him to stay through tomorrow. If all goes well, he can go home Wednesday. But I'll want to see him every week until I'm satisfied that he's healing properly.”

  “Of course,” Kate said. Clay will think it a great comedown to have to drive to the hospital, she thought wryly.

  “And I'm going to refer you to a doctor in New Jersey who will change his bandages regularly.” Dr. Lane pushed open a door for her. “He may be slightly disoriented when he first opens his eyes. Don't be concerned.”

  “I won't,” Kate said, turning to shake his hand. “Dr. Lane, I can't begin to thank you adequately...”

  “Just invite me to his first art show in New York City,” the doctor said. “That's all the thanks I need.”

  “You'll be at the top of the list,” Kate promised.

  She turned to Clay. His hand was bound to an elaborate arrangement of splints and swathed in gauze. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She straightened the already pristine sheets and gently touched his face. Then she settled down to wait for the first flicker of returning consciousness.

  Eighteen

  Randall checked his voice mail for the third time and was rewarded. There was a brief, whispered message from Kate, saying that Dr. Lane was very optimistic and Clay was still sleeping.

  He smiled as he punched the “end” button. Glancing down at the papers spread out on the table in front of him, he knew that he should be concentrating on them – or sleeping himself. He had about four hours before the chartered Learjet touched down in San Antonio, and he came face-to-face with his past. He shook his head. He was finally in the driver's seat, and all he wanted was to be back in a hospital waiting room on Long Island.

  He shoved the contracts to the far side of the table and leaned back in his seat to get his thinking in order.

  He had known he was in trouble the night of the charity ball. The worst part was that he didn't feel like he was in trouble. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long while. Ever since the ball, when he woke up in the morning, he looked forward to the day. For the first time in years, his future seemed more compelling than his past.

  How did Kate Chilton do that? He couldn't figure it out.

  She wasn't drop-dead gorgeous – yet he wanted to undress her every time he saw her.

  She generally assumed the worst where his motives were concerned – and she had no hesitation about telling him so.

  Actually, he liked that about her.

  She could go from ripping him to shreds to thanking him with utter sincerity in two seconds flat. He had fun when he was with her. Hell, he had fun with her two boys. The Chiltons knew about his wealth and position, but they didn't let that change their behavior; they treated him as a fellow human being.

  The image of Kate's face, first at the ball and then on the roof of the hospital, rose up to keep him honest. He knew that look; she thought of him as more than just a fellow human being. If he'd seen it on any other woman's face, he would have sent the lady a diamond bracelet and deleted her name from his Rolodex. When Kate looked at him like that, something inside him that he thought had been killed years ago in Mason County, Texas, stirred back to life.

  Randall refused to name the stirring.

  He admitted that she made him want to slay dragons, and if her dragons were hand surgeons and lieutenant governors, so be it. He found that he enjoyed using all of his accumulated connections and money for something other than business.

  But the more he did for her, the more Kate pushed him away. She was cussedly independent, which was another thing he liked about her. She made it clear that her children were her first priorit
y in life. He admired that. He got a kick out of making her polished good manners disintegrate. And he loved making her laugh when she wanted to be pissed at him...

  Randall cursed. His attempt at analysis was deteriorating into a besotted daydream.

  All right, he'd established that Kate made him feel good, that he liked a lot of things about her, and that he wanted her naked. He allowed himself a few more moments to dwell on that image. He could handle all of that, especially the last.

  What he kept backing away from was the softening in his gut when he thought of her. There was no place for that in his life. He'd worked for years to be where and what he was, and he wasn't prepared to deviate from his plan at this point.

  He refocused on the contract in front of him. As he read each ironclad clause, he heard the satisfying slam of a door and the turn of a key in his mind's ear. Mason County Bank was going to be completely at his mercy. President “Gill” Gillespie was too blind to realize what was about to hit him. He planned to let Gill stay president just long enough to watch Mason County Bank get taken apart and sold off piece by piece. Then he would fire him.

  It was finally Gill Gillespie's turn to find out what it felt like to have your future wiped out.

  Before he left the plane, Randall walked forward to see the pilot. “Thanks for a good flight. I'll be back here by six o'clock this evening.”

  “Good luck with your business, Mr. Johnson.”

  Randall walked down the steps carrying nothing more than his briefcase. A limousine was waiting on the tarmac. The driver raced forward to greet him.

  “Welcome back to Texas, Mr. Johnson. Mr. Gillespie thought you'd like to have lunch at his home before the business meeting.”

  Randall checked his stride for just a moment, then slowly smiled. “That's very hospitable of Mr. Gillespie.”

  The car swept around a circular driveway to a stop. The white columns of the Gillespie mansion gleamed in the Texas sun. For a moment, Randall was a seventeen-year-old kid with an alcoholic mother and a bad reputation, wanting everything that Golden Gill Gillespie had: money, influence, family, and a house with more bathrooms than people. The feeling passed as he remembered the contract resting in his briefcase. He started to walk up the shallow steps to the front door when it swung wide open.

  “Randall Johnson, you son of a gun! It's good to have you back in the great state of Texas.” Gill Gillespie came forward with his hand extended.

  Randall looked at the man he had come to ruin. Gill still had all of his blond hair, although it had some silver shot through it. His waist had thickened since his high school days, but he looked like he made some effort to stay in shape. His eyes retained their clear startling blue despite the red veins in his nose that indicated a heavy drinker.

  Randall finally shook the bank president's hand. “Gill. You haven't changed much.”

  Gill laughed heartily. “Still got all my hair. But you do too. Although I see you finally lost the ponytail. I guess those Wall Street sharks you swim with bit it off a long time ago.”

  “Actually, I'm thinking of growing it back.”

  “Midlife crisis, eh? We all go through those. If the worst you do is grow your hair, you're doing okay.” Gill's jovial tone disappeared. “You know, I was surprised when your offer for the bank came through. You haven't kept in touch with anyone here in Mason County, so I thought there might be some hard feelings left.”

  Randall smiled. “I feel I should do something for the folks here, for starting me out in life.”

  Gill was still giving him a hard stare.

  Randall continued to smile. “It was time for some payback,” he continued. “I might never have left Texas if I hadn't gotten kicked off the football team. I owe you and your daddy for broadening my horizons.”

  Gill hesitated before relaxing into a smile. “It's good to know you're thinking positively about the past. This partnership will benefit the whole area. But let's not talk business until after lunch. Come on in. Lucinda can't wait to see you again.” A uniformed maid relieved Randall of his briefcase. “You two dated for a while back in high school, didn't you? Before Lucy and I got together?”

  Randall examined the house critically as Gill led him through a marble-floored entrance hall, past a curved double staircase, to an informal sitting room at the back of the house. The public spaces were typical Texas oil baron, deliberately ostentatious and expensive. The sitting room was far more tasteful. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains to gently illuminate the comfortable furniture upholstered in soft pastels. Randall guessed that Lucinda had decorated this room; her family had been as poor as his, but Lucy had always been able to make her home look welcoming.

  As though she had stepped out of his thoughts, a tall blond woman came toward him, both hands outstretched. “Randall Johnson, what a pleasure to see you again. It's been – what? – twenty years since you've been here.”

  Randall took her hands but did not kiss the cheek she offered him. “Twenty-three. You look good, Lucinda.”

  She gave him a searching look before she disengaged her hands. “You do, too. Success agrees with you.”

  Randall raised an eyebrow. “And marriage agrees with you.”

  The pretty girl whom he had loved so many years ago had become a beautiful woman. Her silver-gilt hair was styled smoothly around the classic oval of her face. She stood tall and slim in her peach-colored suit and heavy gold jewelry, the perfect lady-who-lunches. But the green eyes had shadows under them, and the set of her jaw betrayed a long-standing tension. He had an unexpected urge to reach out and run his palm down her cheek to relax it. He quelled it without difficulty.

  Gill walked over to an oil portrait hanging above the fireplace. He beamed as he pointed to the three girls in the painting, “And these are my beautiful daughters: Lucy Junior, who's in law school; Danielle, our Texas A&M scholar; and Rose, who's still in high school. Lucky for them, they all take after their mother, although Rosie has my blue eyes. I'm sorry you can't meet them in person.”

  Randall strolled over and examined the picture silently, relishing the tension emanating from Lucinda. She jumped when he spoke. “You're lucky to be surrounded by beautiful women, Gill.”

  “Damn straight I am,” Gill laughed. The maid rustled in and spoke quietly to him. He turned to Randall. “I'm sorry. I'm going to have to excuse myself for a few minutes. There's a phone call I have to make to the bank before lunch. I'm sure you and Lucinda will enjoy reminiscing about the good old days.”

  Lucinda half-rose as though to follow him, but then sank back down on the chair and forced a smile. “Of course, dear.”

  Gill dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I won't be long.”

  As he left, Randall sat down, leaning back to rest his elbows on the padded arms, steepling his fingers just under his chin. Lucinda perched on the edge of the couch with her knees and ankles pressed tightly together.

  “Does Gill really think that all we did was date a few times?” Randall asked quietly.

  Lucinda looked away. “I didn't think it was necessary to tell him every detail of my life. It would just have made things more complicated.”

  Randall's eyebrows rose. “You considered the fact that Lucy might be my daughter a detail?”

  Now Lucinda looked straight at him. “She's not your daughter.”

  “You weren't so sure twenty-three years ago. Have you had her DNA tested in the interim to put your mind at ease?”

  “I deserved that. But no, there was never any doubt in my mind.”

  “Never any doubt!” Randall snapped. “I was prepared to marry you because you told me she was mine! I didn't know how the hell I would support you and a child, but I was damned well going to do the right thing.” The room was deadly silent for a long moment. “You played me for a sucker.”

  Lucinda flinched. “I'm not proud of my behavior, but I did what I thought was best for my child.”

  “You did what you thought was best for you.” Randall swept a loo
k around the room. “This is a real nice little house, but you could have had a penthouse in Manhattan, a villa in Tuscany, and a chateau in France if you hadn't decided to trap Gill instead of me.”

  “I didn't trap Gill. I made a stupid mistake.” Lucinda hesitated a moment and then softened her voice. “Remember Joe Foster's big pool party? I wanted to go so badly, and you wouldn't take me because you were studying for finals.”

  “Because Gill and his daddy got me thrown off the football team so that Gill could be the quarterback. That lost me my scholarship to Texas University. I was desperate to get an academic scholarship.”

  Lucinda stood up and faced Randall. “That was all Gill's father's idea. He was the one who wanted the glory for his son. Gill knew that he wasn't as good as you. But there was no stopping Victor Gillespie once he got an idea in his head.”

  “And Gill lost the championship for us. I enjoyed watching from the bleachers,” Randall said.

  “He suffered for that. He still hears about it.”

  Randall said nothing.

  Lucinda went back to her story. “You were studying, so I went to the party without you. Gill asked me if I wanted a ride home, and I thought that just once it would be nice to see what it was like to be part of the rich crowd. So I took the ride. When he pulled into the parking lot behind Streeter's Pharmacy to neck, I went along. And then the necking got heavier and I let that happen, too. I didn't realize that he hadn't used protection until too late. I was used to you being so careful.” Lucinda took a deep breath. “I was so angry with you—I felt that school was more important to you than I was.”

  “I was trying to provide for both of our futures.”

  “Well, I didn't know that, did I?” Lucinda snapped. “You hadn't shared your bad news with me.”

  “I hadn't accepted it myself,” Randall said, turning away.

  A look of longing crossed Lucinda's face. “I was crazy about you, Randall, but you scared me.”

  Randall stood up. “Scared you? I never lifted a hand to you. Gill was the one with the nasty temper.”