She didn't move. He dropped his hand and sat back. “You won't believe me, but I'm already in the process of canceling the Tower Design deal.”
Kate snorted.
“All right, Kate. You said yourself that I'd gotten into bad habits. One of them is knowing everything that I can about anyone I do business with. So when I met you, I did my homework. And when I realized that you were having financial difficulties, I used the information. But my intentions were purely honorable. I didn't want you to know, and I didn't expect anything from you.”
“And what about your little chat with Lidden Hartley?”
“More of the same. It cost me nothing to help you out.”
“Do you know why I liked you? Because I thought you were honest. After my experience with David, that was very appealing.” Kate shook her head. “How can I love a man who hides things from me, important things that change my life?”
That made Randall straighten up abruptly but his tone remained casual. “The same way I can love a woman who looks down her nose at me.”
Kate glanced over and saw the look in his eye. She put her hands out to keep him away. “Don't touch me. You are not going to distract me with sex.”
Randall took both her hands in his, raising them to his lips. His voice dropped into the deep velvet register. “Distracting you with sex is the only way that I can get past that prickly facade of yours to the heat underneath. I don't want to rescue you or buy you; I want to marry you. Is that a crime?”
Kate felt his words as warmth and vibration against her skin, piercing her armor so that her strength of will began to bleed away. She pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Why would you want to marry someone you don't believe in? You don't trust me enough to let me handle my own problems. How could you trust me to handle both of our problems?”
“For Christ's sake, how can you say that I don't trust you?” Randall said, flipping on the engine and ramming the car into gear. He twisted toward her as he backed too fast down the driveway. “I came here and spilled my guts to you. I told you things I've never told another person!”
“Yes, and I've done things with you that I've never done with another person,” Kate said sharply. “But that doesn't mean I should marry you! Maybe just the opposite. Randall, what I'm trying to say is that you don't know me. You don't know what made me what I am.”
He kept driving. “I can find that out, but it doesn't make a damned bit of difference. I want the woman that you are right now, this minute.”
“And what about the woman I might become? Will you want her?” Kate asked, then waved her hand to dismiss her questions. “Never mind. No one can answer that.”
“Is that what you're worried about? That I'll lose interest and cheat on you like David?” The Jaguar's speed increased with the volume of Randall's voice. “I never break a promise. Never.”
“I'm not worried about you breaking a promise. There are other things that can be broken,” Kate said, thinking of her heart the day she found David's letter. She took a deep breath. “I think I've said about all I want to say about this right now. If you really insist on the charade of taking me to dinner, perhaps we could agree to drop this subject for the evening.”
Randall nodded. “A cooling-off period might be a good idea.”
There was dead silence in the car.
Finally, Randall broke it. “What's the status of your bridge?”
Kate did a quick change of mental gears. They spent the rest of the drive into New York City carefully discussing professional topics.
At the curb in front of the Four Seasons restaurant, a uniformed doorman rushed to open the car door for Kate. Randall handed the keys to a valet and took her hand to lead her through the doors and up the stairs to the maitre d's station. Despite all of her best intentions, Kate enjoyed the feel of his warm fingers laced with hers. Even worse, she felt proud to walk up the steps beside him with his hand clearly claiming her as his chosen companion.
She really needed to get a grip on herself.
Julian greeted them warmly. “Mr. Johnson, what a pleasure to see you again. We have your usual table ready.”
“Thanks. I'd like you to meet Kate Chilton. Kate, this is Julian Niccolini, an old friend and brilliant restaurateur.”
“I am delighted to meet you,” Julian said, raising Kate's hand to his lips.
“Well, well, well,” a heavily-accented voice boomed from the Grill Room to their right. “Look who's here. I remember when you couldn't afford to buy a beer at Dobie's, much less dinner at the Four Seasons.”
Kate felt Randall stiffen as he turned slowly to face the tall blond man sauntering toward them. “Gill. I didn't know you were in New York.”
Kate almost gasped as she recognized the name of the man Randall hated enough to try to destroy. He was followed by an elegant blond woman who was clearly trying to prevent a confrontation.
Randall nodded to her. “Hello, Lucy. Kate, I'd like you to meet Lucinda and Gill Gillespie. Lucy and Gill, Kate Chilton.”
Kate murmured polite greetings as she shook hands with Lucinda. Gill did not offer his hand as his focus was entirely on Randall. Kate tried to decide if he had been drinking too much, or if he was just so angry that he didn't care who heard him.
“All that money hasn't made you a man of honor, has it? You're still just poor white trash dressed up in an expensive suit.” Gill Gillespie's Texas accent made the insults sound even worse, somehow. “I did business with you for old times' sake and look where it got me: holding a contract that wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.”
Randall appeared utterly impassive but his grip on Kate's hand had tightened to the point where she couldn't feel her fingertips.
Lucinda tried to intervene. “Gill, let's go back to our hotel.”
“When I'm finished with this SOB,” he snapped. He lowered his voice but it vibrated with hatred. “I know about you and Lucy. She told me all about it after you left. If I'd known that you'd laid a finger on her, I would have had you horsewhipped then.”
Kate opened her mouth to leap to Randall's defense, but she saw his gaze shift to Lucy, who looked back at him with a plea in her eyes. Kate closed her mouth as Randall's grip on her hand relaxed. “I don't believe this is the time or place to discuss your wife's past,” he said. “Whatever pain I may have caused her I regret, and she knows that.”
“You bastard. I ought to...” Gill took a step toward Randall. He shook Lucinda's grip off his arm. Kate watched in horror as he drew back his fist.
With skill gained from years of dealing with the public, Julian stepped between the two men, saying, “Claire, Mr. Johnson's table is ready. Won't you escort him to it? And Mr. Gillespie, allow me to offer you and your lovely wife each a glass of this marvelous Merlot I found in France when I was there last week.” A hostess came over, and Gill stood rigid for a moment. Then he relaxed and smiled in a way that made Kate shiver. “Hell, you'll get what's comin' to you without me having to dirty my hands. Enjoy your evenin', Ms. Chilton.”
“Good night, Lucy,” Randall said, his voice softening.
Lucinda's main concern was getting her husband away from Randall, but as she urged him toward the bar, she looked back over her shoulder and mouthed, “I'm sorry.”
Kate discovered that she was shaking as she followed Claire to their table. She did register that they were seated in the Pool Room, right by the rectangular pool of water that was the room's centerpiece, a coveted position. But she was so perturbed by the scene that had just taken place that she noticed nothing else about the famous design of Philip Johnson and Mies van der Rohe.
As soon as the hostess had presented them with their menus and left, Kate leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Gill Gillespie is seriously unbalanced. I think that he really might be planning to hurt you in some way.”
Randall reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “I apologize for that ugly scene. Gill's just blustering. He's mad about the deal, and he's mad about
whatever Lucinda told him, but he's already mouthed off to the press. I'm not concerned.”
Kate noted how thick Randall's Texas accent had become. Evidently, Gill's presence took him back to his roots. She turned her palm up to meet his. “I know that you're a big, strong man who can take care of himself,” she teased gently, “but that man hates you too much to be thinking straight. Please be careful for a while.”
His brilliant smile dissolved all her tension. “I like having you worry about me. And I'll watch my back.” He squeezed her hand and then picked up the wine list. “I think I could use a good stiff glass of red wine.”
Kate laughed and looked around as Randall concentrated on his selection.
The white marble pool was punctuated at each corner by a fifteen-foot tree, decorated now with the foliage of fall. The wait staff's cummerbunds and jackets matched the trees' color scheme. As her eyes swept the perimeters of the high-ceilinged room, she was delighted by the ripple and shimmer of thousands of strands of silvery beads hanging over the windows, creating the illusion of rain or a waterfall cascading down. The room was spare and minimally decorated, deriving its beauty from its lines and proportions. Even the silver was architectural; David would have loved this.
Randall had ordered the wine, and he handed Kate her menu, saying, “The food ought to taste better here than at the hospital.”
“Nothing tastes good in a hospital, although you certainly did your best.”
The wine arrived and Randall went through the ritual tasting with brisk efficiency. Once Kate's glass was filled, he lifted his in a toast. “Here's to the powers of persuasion of a good meal and a fine wine.”
“I'm not sure I should drink to that,” Kate objected, swirling the wine in her glass as she inhaled its fragrant bouquet.
“I never drink alone,” Randall said, pausing with his glass just before his lips and locking his gaze on hers. “Bottoms up.”
Kate took a cautious sip and then closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Umm, this is delicious.”
Randall's lips curved in a smug smile that Kate just caught. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don't smirk. It counteracts the effect of the wine.”
He chuckled. The waiter arrived to take their order, and Kate had a grand time choosing delicacies whose mere descriptions made her mouth water.
Once they were alone, she said carefully, “Lucinda is very beautiful. It's hard to believe she came from poverty. Of course, it's hard to believe that of you, too.”
Randall's smile evaporated. She saw him tense and then relax with a visible effort. “Lucy's like the wine, better with age.”
“As strange as it may sound, I'm glad to have met Gill and Lucinda. Putting faces to the names makes your past seem more real to me.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Kate smiled wryly. “It depends on your point of view. I feel more included in your life somehow.”
“Then I'll fly you down to Texas tomorrow and show you the house where I grew up, if it's still standing, and the dirt road where I learned to drive a twenty-year-old pickup truck. Hell, maybe I can even find the truck again. Then we'll visit my old dorm rooms and track down a few college buddies.” Randall took a drink of wine.
Kate laughed. “I want to see the oil wells you bought by mistake. That makes you seem almost human.”
“I'm about as human as they come.”
The appetizers interrupted them. By tacit agreement, they kept the remainder of the conversation on less emotional topics, and Kate found herself sliding under the spell of his charm. He listened to every word she said, and his thoughtful responses made her feel that she was in fact worthy of his undivided attention. Her spirits lifted, then soared, and she sparkled in his company. Too soon the last mouthful of chocolate soufflé melted on her tongue.
When Randall rose, Kate was struck again by the power of his physical presence. Sitting across from her, his eyes were level with hers and she felt his equal. Standing, he dominated her view completely, and she experienced a quick grab of panic at the thought of how he might dominate her life. Only if I let him, she told herself as she preceded him out of the Pool Room with her head held high.
This time she noticed both covert glances and overt stares from other diners as Randall passed their tables. One man nodded and smiled a brief greeting. Julian gave the sign that all was clear in the Grill Room and walked over to wish them a warm good-night.
“I feel like royalty,” Kate said as they walked down the stairs.
Randall took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Then the dinner was a success.”
“Well, it all depends on your point of view.”
Randall arched an eyebrow and stepped back to let her through the door being held for them. The Jaguar was pulled up directly in front of the restaurant's entrance and the moment he saw them, the valet leapt to open the passenger door. “Have a nice evening,” he said, closing the door ever so gently after Kate had settled into her seat.
She wondered if Randall even noticed how everyone jumped to open doors for him and, of course, for his chosen consort. The thought made her giggle.
He gave her a questioning look, but she only smiled and shook her head. Some jokes were impossible to share.
Twenty Four
They rode in companionable silence until Randall braked for a red light. “There's something that's been bothering me all evening,” he said seriously.
“Really?” Kate braced herself. “What is it?”
Hooking a finger into the chiffon scarf where it curved around her neck, he said, “This.”
Kate grabbed for it as she felt the silky fabric slide out from under her collar, but Randall was too quick. He whipped it out and tossed it onto the backseat, leaving her clasping her hands over nothing but bare skin.
“Now the view's much better. You have a beautiful neck,” he said, running the back of his fingers along her jawline and down to the skin he had just uncovered.
“You're trying to cloud my thinking again,” Kate said, as she attempted to ignore the treacherous shiver of anticipation that streaked through her body.
“Does it ever occur to you that maybe you cloud my thinking?” he complained. “There I am, trying to review a contract at the office, and instead, I'm thinking about the best way to get you back in bed with me. That's not doing me any good, so I move on to trying to figure out how to pay for Clay's surgery without getting lacerated by your very sharp pride. On top of that, I've canceled two deals this week because of you.”
She knew she looked like the cat who swallowed the canary but she couldn't keep her smile under control. It thrilled her that he actually thought about her at work.
“Serves you right. They were bad deals to begin with.”
“Now who's smirking?” Randall said, swinging the car onto the FDR Drive.
She sighed with delight. “I love this route home. It's got a whole symphony of bridges along it.”
“A symphony of bridges!”
Kate stuck by her metaphor. “Yes. There are the big brassy bridges like the Queensborough that we just went under and, up farther, the Triborough. Then the string section intersperses itself with bridges like the Willis Avenue. The little footbridges are the woodwinds, I guess. And it all crescendos to the big guy, the George Washington Bridge. That's my favorite.”
“I've never known anyone who had a favorite bridge.”
“You don't know many engineers then.” She chuckled. “One of our best Sunday afternoon outings with the boys was walking across the George Washington Bridge. David loved the simple, functional lines of it. The boys loved being two hundred odd feet in the air. I loved everything about it, but especially the fact that mankind could conceive of and create such a grand structure for such a practical purpose.”
“I see that I'll have to reexamine my view of bridges. Maybe I could join one of those Sunday afternoon outings.”
The vision of strolling along the high, windswept walkway with Randall's big hand wrapped ar
ound hers and the boys racing ahead was so vivid and so glorious that Kate felt tears start in her eyes. She swallowed hard.
“I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude on a happy memory,” Randall said in a bleak voice.
“No, no, it's not that at all.” She shook her head decisively. She looked straight ahead and said with dangerous honesty, “I hesitated because I realized that I want to walk the bridge with you much too much for my peace of mind.”
His smile gleamed in the dimness of the car. “Good.”
The lighthouse at the end of Roosevelt Island flashed by, and Kate noticed that Randall was weaving in and out of traffic with uncharacteristic aggressiveness. She glanced over at him to see his eyes narrow as he looked in the rearview mirror.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You may have made me paranoid, but I think we're being followed. Fasten your seat belt, I'm going to do some dodging and weaving just to check.”
“I'm strapped in,” she said, double-checking the security of the buckle as they accelerated around a taxi. After several more quick ins and outs, she ventured to say, “You're good at this.”
“I took an evasive driving course a few years ago at the request of my insurance company,” he said, checking the rearview mirror as he sped past a line of cars and cut in front of them to move all the way over to the right lane. Slowing down to a normal pace, he looked back again. Kate saw his lips tighten. “We're definitely being followed,” he said.
“Do you think it's Gill?” she asked nervously, turning to see a dark sedan pull in one car behind them.
“Gill himself? I doubt it, but it might be someone he hired. It's more likely to be some freelance photographer looking for a picture.”
“You get followed around by photographers?”
“Not generally. But occasionally they'll latch on. I don't know who would buy a picture of me, but I guess they have some market for it. I'm going to call security,” he said, turning on his car phone. “Maybe they can scare them off.”
The private security company answered on the second ring, and Randall explained the situation and their location. “We're notifying the police now,” the dispatcher assured him. “We recommend that you remain on the FDR and in motion.”
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