Isn't it Romantic?

by Ronda Thompson

  “Linda, we should be going,” Trey reminded darkly. “I’ve introduced you to Kat Summers, and this is Cynthia Lane, now let’s leave them to their lunch.”

  “No need to rush off on our account,” Cynthia said, eyeing the brunette clinging to Trey’s arm. “And I thought I knew everything about T. West, Harold’s favorite patron. In all this time, I’ve never once heard him mention, ah, oh yeah, Linda.”

  Cynthia’s sly jab brought Katrine from her disturbing visions and added tension to an already tense situation. “It’s always nice to meet a fan, Linda,” she piped up. “You seem to have a way with words yourself. Unbridled passion. How … original.”

  “Do you think so?” Linda’s brow furrowed. “Maybe I could write a romance novel. With the right inspiration, I suppose anything’s possible.” She ran a meaningful glance over Trey.

  “Inspiration is highly overrated,” Katrine countered. “Persistence and determination get a book written.”

  “Oh, I’m persistent,” Linda assured her. “And very determined when I want something. Kat Summers isn’t afraid of a little competition, is she?”

  “Of course she isn’t,” Cynthia answered. “Many a woman’s tried to compete with Kat in the bedroom, so to speak, but Katrine’s still the steamiest woman on paper. She knows all the ins and outs of romance. Oh,” Cynthia’s eyes widened. “No pun intended.”

  As heat clawed a path up Katrine’s neck, she tried not to glare at Cynthia. She knew the game in progress. Her friend obviously meant to imply Katrine’s writing skills reflected her talent in related areas. Since it was evident she couldn’t compete with Linda’s outer beauty, especially not this particular afternoon, Cynthia tried to give the brunette something to worry about.

  In an effort to hide her embarrassment, Katrine said, “Romance writers don’t view their writing competitively. Fortunately, the varied taste of the reader allows room for many authors to successfully write in the same genre. It’s simply a matter of preference and style.”

  Again, Linda summoned a perplexed expression. “Oh, you mean it’s like comparing Quarter Horses to Thoroughbreds? One is bred for beauty and endurance, while the other’s just a fast race down a short track.”

  “I wouldn’t insult the Quarter horse too loudly if I were you,” Trey warned his ex-wife softly. “Especially not in Dallas. We really should be going. I need to get back to work.”

  “Of course you do, Darling.” Linda patted his arm affectionately and flashed Katrine a brilliant simile. “Trey pushes himself relentlessly when it comes to his work. A trait I’ll admit I once found a little annoying. But later, when I had time to reflect on our life together, I realized living with a perfectionist had its advantages.”

  The sultry look she turned Trey’s direction made Katrine want to arch her back and hiss. How dare the brunette insult her. How dare the woman act so nonthreatened by the female her ex-husband had slung over his shoulder in this morning’s addition of Texas Trash. Worse than the affronts to her insecurity, how dare Linda discuss Trey as if he were some stud whose virility needed confirmation.

  And Trey, Katrine thought, suddenly switching tracks. Why had he brought her over in the first place? To flaunt the fact he’d once been married to such a perfect specimen of feminine fluff? To mock Katrine for only having perfect men in her novels? Katrine had a good mind to give Linda the impression she was well aware of Trey’s virility. She had an even better mind to cause Trey a little grief for having the bad manners to introduce them.

  “Trey’s competitive nature was the very thing Cynthia and I were just discussing.” Don’t, Katrine mentally warned herself. Don’t let them goad you into it. She ignored her sane side and smiled up at the couple, her stare colliding with Trey’s. “How are your ‘jewels’ this afternoon, Darling?”

  If Katrine’s daring shocked her, it was worth climbing into the gutter to see the smug smile slide off Linda’s lips. Doubly rewarding to see Trey’s eyes widen slightly and his jaw muscle clench.

  “They’re black and blue,” he answered irritably. “I’d pretty much already figured you for crazy. I didn’t know you were sadistic until last night, or should I say, until I tried to get out of bed and walk this morning!”

  Katrine shrugged. “You said you could handle it. Once you realized what you were up against, you should have admitted defeat and cried uncle. Ten times in one night would make any man walk funny the next day.”

  “Ten times?” Linda gasped. “That’s … that’s disgusting!”

  Trey seemed to suddenly realize Linda didn’t fully comprehend the conversation. “Let me explain,” he offered politely. “Cynthia knows what we’re talking about, but if a person didn’t—”

  “Sure I know,” Cynthia interrupted. “You see, I used to be a hooker, and I gave Katrine some research material which included all the different … bars I used to frequent,” her voice trailed as Linda stormed toward the door. “What’d I say?” she asked defensively when Trey glared at her.

  “Do you always so proudly announce your past profession to perfect strangers?”

  “I’m not proud of my past, but I’m not ashamed, either. I did what I had to do when my stepfather raped me when I was fifteen and my ma threw me out into the streets. Ms. Hoity Toity didn’t have to get her panties in a bind. If she’d have let me finish, she would have realized—”

  “I believe Ms. Summerville wanted her to get the wrong impression. Isn’t that right, Katrine?”

  Katrine felt like a naughty child called to account. “I, well, she made me mad.”

  “She did?” he sounded surprised.

  “Her superior attitude made me angry,” Katrine lied. “Why did you bring her over here? To impress me with your lack of taste in women?”

  “She insisted on meeting you,” Trey answered coldly. “Linda is stubborn at times. Immature, spoiled, shallow. I thought the two of you would hit it off.”

  His insult erased any guilt Katrine felt over purposely misleading Linda. “Such flattery, and coming from a man who mud-wrestles midgets, pukes tequila, abuses Cornish hens with his bare hands and grunts like a pig at the slop trough while doing it. I could see where Linda would be interested in stoking the flames of passion between the two of you again. I’m going home before I become ill.”

  “Good idea,” he snapped. “If you’d taken more care with your appearance before leaving the house this morning, Linda wouldn’t have had quite so much to work with while insulting you.”

  “What?” she gasped. “You hypocrite! Berating me for using perfectly-formed characters in my novels then flaunting that gushy, empty-headed Barbie Doll in front of me. I’m sorry if my appearance ruined your chance to give that … that—”

  “Cupcake,” Cynthia offered.

  “That cupcake a reason to be jealous over her Darling doing a feature with Kat Summers. I wouldn’t worry about it, Trey. She seemed perfectly willing to jump your bones right here in front of God and everyone! Manipulation isn’t necessary to get her into the sack with you.”

  Strong fingers clamped down on the hand Katrine unconsciously fastened around her fork. “I’ve never had to use cheap tactics to get a woman into bed with me.” Trey brought his face within an inch of hers. “And if you try to stab me with that fork, I won’t be held accountable for my actions. I don’t think Elise Pennington’s lurking anywhere in the shadows to give us another cover picture. Is that why you provoked me last night? To give yourself more publicity? That damned photo could have been torn right off the front cover of one of your novels. Did you set me up?”

  “Me?” Katrine choked. “You were the one who provoked me!”

  “You’re a smart lady. You probably assumed I’d do something to make you take a swing at me before the evening ended.”

  She snorted softly. “It wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. It wouldn’t take anyone five minutes in your company to realize how competitive you are, either. I knew if I said the right thing, pushed the right buttons, ex
pressed just enough doubt in your manly abilities, you’d let those cowboys goad you into getting on that mechanical bull.”

  “Let’s talk about manipulation,” he said angrily. “Linda was right. Pulling strings to make your puppets dance, is, after all, what you do for a living.”

  “You’ve been pulling a few strings yourself!” she reminded. “It’s your scheming that’s turned all our dates into disasters.”

  His smile took her off guard and made her heart skip a nervous beat. “Which reminds me, I get to choose the next one.”

  Frightening as Katrine found the prospect, she refused to cower. “You couldn’t possibly come up with anything more unromantic than you already have,” she challenged.

  “I’ve got a week to think about it.” His lips almost brushed hers. “I promise not to disappoint you … again.”

  Their eyes locked. Katrine’s heart sped up a measure. His mouth inched closer.

  “Hey, you two, break it up.” Cynthia began fanning her face profusely with a menu. “Another second and we’ll have the fire marshall in here citing us for overheated circuits. Trey, that cut-out’s still standing outside. If her lips get any tighter, her face is gonna crack.”

  Trey immediately straightened, wondering what the hell had just come over him. How could he want to strangle Katrine one minute, and kiss her the next? He glanced through the glass windows at Linda. He’d only wanted to strangle his ex-wife, and not nearly so badly.

  “I should tell Shelly good-bye,” he muttered. “I might have hurt her feelings earlier.”

  “Trey!”

  Both he and Katrine jumped. Linda stood inside the doorway of the restaurant, her lips trembling with anger. She flushed a red that matched her lipstick, when she obviously realized she’d just bellowed like a cow.

  “My rental car is parked over at the paper,” she said with more control. “I thought you were going to walk me back.”

  His head swiveled between the kitchen doors at the rear of the restaurant and Linda.

  “Better go, Darling.” Katrine smiled sweetly. “It might start sleeting. We wouldn’t want Linda to melt, now would we?”

  In a gesture of annoyance, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell Shelly I’ll call her.”

  “Doubtful,” Katrine countered, nodding toward the impatient Linda. “You’d best get moving.”

  In revenge for her heckling, Trey fixed Katrine with a sultry stare. “I’ll see you … later.”

  He smiled and walked away when she blushed to the roots of her blonde hair. His smile faded as he escorted Linda outside. Trey wished he hadn’t made the suggestive remark. It reminded him of what he’d been trying to forget since their disastrous attempt at lovemaking. How much he wanted another chance. How addicted he’d become to catastrophe.

  “It would never work,” Linda said beside him.

  “What wouldn’t?”

  She nodded over her shoulder. “You and her. If you couldn’t satisfy my, I’ll admit, rather disproportionate expectations of happily-ever-after, how could you possibly meet hers?”

  “I no longer compromise my sanity in an effort to please a woman,” he countered coldly. “It isn’t rational, neither is renewing a relationship that ended badly six years ago.”

  “Almost kissing a woman you’re supposedly not involved with inside a crowded restaurant in broad daylight isn’t logical, either,” Linda pointed out. “It didn’t look like anything the Trey Westmoreland I know would do. She’s changing you. But then, that’s how it happens in her novels, isn’t it? Doesn’t the hero always sacrifice something he feels is important for the heroine’s sake? Doesn’t he end up altering his beliefs to coincide with hers?”

  “I had no idea you knew so much about it, Linda.” Trey found her insight unamusing and disturbing. Had Katrine really manipulated him? Did she take this feature more seriously than he suspected? Maybe it wasn’t enough for her if he simply pretended to fall under romance’s spell. What if his growing feelings for Katrine and Shelly were merely a trick to prove romance really did exist. If their dates were disastrous, they held all the required elements of a good romance.

  Adventure. Dilemma. Sexual tension. Sexual tension. Sexual tension. The latter echoed over and over in his head. Damn, she had him tied in a virtual knot of sexual frustration. One long glance into her green eyes tightened the knot, one touch and he came undone—threw caution to the wind, ignored any and every rational bone in his body.

  “Trey, you’ve got to see me again. You know Daddy would be disappointed if I didn’t get you to at least consider his offer. I’ll stay in town for another week if we could get together this weekend.”

  “Look, Linda. I’m really not interested. Besides, I told you, I don’t have time. I need to start packing to move at some point, and I have my obligation to the feature.”

  “I suppose Texas Trash will have another disgustingly romantic cover next Saturday.”

  “Not if I can help it,” he assured her. “I need to think of an unromantic setting.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” Linda obviously wanted the subject of Kat Summers dismissed. “You were married to me for six years and won’t give me the time of day, but you can’t get your mind off her long enough to consider a very wise career move. I swear that romance writer has cast some type of spell over you. The feature, and Kat Summers; that’s all you want to think about.”

  Linda was right. Suddenly. Trey felt foolish for becoming so wrapped up in Katrine and the feature. Katrine was right, too. He was too damned competitive. He’d made a vow to give her hell writing her end of the bargain, and he planned to deliver. This time, he had to do more than take her to an unromantic setting. He needed the most unromantic element a man could introduce into a date.

  “Trey!” Linda snapped. “You’re not even listening to me. If you could just stop and take a good look at yourself, you’d see why I’m worried about you.”

  He stopped. Slowly, he turned his head toward the restaurant down the street. A smile stretched his lips.

  “How long did you say you could stay, Linda?”

  “As long as you want me to, Darling.”

  Chapter 15

  The article was packed with fiction, lies and omissions. Katrine stared at the tiny print, frowning one moment over misleading statements from T. West, such as, Kat Summers plied me with alcohol in the limousine then seemed unreasonably upset when I couldn’t handle my eating utensils properly at Chez Fred’s, and smiling the next over her own ingenious drivel. T. West quoted Scottish verse while ordering drinks, and later, proved himself equally adept at stepping into the role of old-west cowboy.

  Neither, under Jerry Caldwell’s direction, mentioned one word about the picture published on the cover of last week’s issue of Texas Trash.

  “Let them wonder,” he’d told Katrine over the phone. “A different version of the story being published on the side will inspire more people to keep up with ours. They’ll try to read between the lines. It’s great for business.”

  The feature might be great for Jerry’s business, lucrative for Trey’s and her own career, but it was hell on Katrine’s emotions. Her editor, Craig Martin, called two days before with news her older novels were getting another print run. A good thing, since she hadn’t concentrated on anything but Trey and the feature lately.

  It seemed ages ago, a lifetime since she’d existed in a world ruled mostly by her imagination and her computer. Now, Katrine knew she could never go back. Infuriating as Trey was, he’d forced her to confront issues much more important than her writing.

  If not for his intervention, Shelly might have remained the child who quietly kept her needs and expectations bottled inside, believing herself the protector instead of the protected.

  “So why do I feel this miserable?” Katrine asked her coffee cup. “For Shelly,” she assured herself. Trey hadn’t called the girl all week. Winter vacation had ended. School resumed tomorrow. Shelly had been moping ar
ound the house since seeing Trey with his ex-wife at Harold’s.

  “Inconsiderate bastard,” Katrine grumbled. What kept him too busy all week to pick up the phone and make a simple call? A petite, brown-eyed, red-lipped Barbie Doll, that’s what!

  “Mom!” Shelly stormed into her office. “He called!”

  Well, Hallelujah!, Katrine wanted to shout sarcastically. Instead, she said, “That’s nice, Honey. Thelma has all your new Christmas things pressed. Why don’t you go upstairs and decide what you’re wearing to school tomorrow.”

  “Mom?” Shelly sighed impatiently. “Don’t you want to know what he said?”

  “Why, yes, Shelly!” Katrine exclaimed with mock sincerity. “I’m waiting with baited breath to hear what infinite words of wisdom Trey Westmoreland had to impart upon my impressionable, young daughter this morning.”

  “Oh.” Shelly sobered. “I forgot, you’re still mad at him.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it seems to be the rule rather than the exception. If you must discuss whatever he said to put roses in your cheeks and the sparkle back in your eyes, go ahead. I’m listening.”

  Shelly shrugged. “Looks like you’re busy. Sorry I barged into your office that way. I can come back later.”

  “Hold it,” Katrine ordered when Shelly turned toward the door. “You know I’m here for you. I’m sorry I seemed a little short. Now, go ahead.”

  “Really, it’s all right,” Shelly insisted.

  “Tell me what he said!” Her lack of aplomb brought a smile to Shelly’s lips.

  “Admit it, Mom, you’re crazy about him. You’ve been moping around all week. The thought of him being with that woman bothers you as much as it bothers me.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “Honey, I told you from the beginning, Trey and I are involved in a business venture and nothing more.”

  “Because you won’t make it more,” Shelly complained. “And I don’t know why. I don’t know a lot of things I’ve been wondering about lately. Why don’t I have any grandparents like other kids?”