Isn't it Romantic?

by Ronda Thompson

  Shelly squealed her delight, Beauregard barked his confusion, and Katrine wondered what the hell she could possibly be thinking. She didn’t know how to swim.

  Chapter 16

  “Honey, have you seen my brown loafers?” Katrine shouted while digging around her closet floor. For some reason, most of her shoes seemed to be missing. “Shelly!” she called again.

  “Ah, these brown shoes?”

  Shelly stood at the door, her Siamese twin, Beauregard, attached to her hip. In her daughter’s hands were a pair of brown loafers, or what once were shoes, but now resembled two large pieces of chewed beef jerky.

  “What in the world…” Her gaze settled on a shaggy face. “Beauregard, did you do that?”

  He whined guiltily.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean to, Mom,” Shelly hastened to the dog’s defense. “He probably wandered into your closet and mistook it for a trash heap. You know, like anything dumped in there wasn’t any good?”

  Katrine nodded toward the evidence. “Where did you find those?”

  “Under my bed … along with your black flats, your silver heels, a pair of tennis shoes, your navy belt, and your camel-colored purse.”

  “Ugh,” Katrine groaned. “Has he chewed on all of them?”

  Shelly bit her lip for a moment. “I’ll put it this way, the loafers look the best.”

  “Bad dog!” Katrine scolded, moving on her hands and knees from the closet.

  The accused lowered his head in shame. Shelly gave him a reassuring pat.

  “Well.” Katrine struggled to her feet. “I guess I need to get him some of those chew bones. Even though the landscaper I contacted can’t plant grass until this spring, Beauregard can still go outside. He’ll just have to romp around in the dirt for a while.”

  “But, it’s cold out there,” Shelly complained. “Beauregard might freeze, and besides, he’s used to sleeping with me now.”

  “He won’t freeze,” Katrine assured her. “He’s got enough hair to keep all of Dallas warm. Hair, I might add, that seems to be on everything in this house.”

  When she paused before the mirror to straighten her sweater, Katrine noted Shelly’s worried expression reflected in the glass.

  “Beauregard is part of our family,” she said softly. “I complain about him, but don’t worry, Honey. He’s here to stay.”

  Her daughter’s thankful smile made the dog a lot less annoying. Katrine hated to admit it, but she’d grown fond of the beast in just one short week.

  “Jeans and a sweater, huh?” Shelly asked. “Where’s Trey taking you tonight?”

  “A hockey game.”

  “For real? I’d love to see one. I wish I could go with you.”

  “Maybe Trey will take you another time,” her mother offered. “He’s done his best to see that we go somewhere unromantic as it is. Having you along would pretty much insure yet another impossible writing assignment. Besides, the shoe monster hasn’t been with us long. He might feel abandoned again if we leave him here alone.”

  After nodding her agreement, Shelly gave Beauregard another reassuring pat on the head. “So, what strategy are you planning to use tonight?”

  “Strategy?”

  A loud sigh followed. Shelly rolled her eyes. “Surely you’ve plotted out something to win Trey’s heart.”

  “No more reading my novels,” Katrine warned. “My plan is simple. I’m going to be myself.”

  Shelly groaned. “I guess I can kiss my dreams of being a family good-bye. Mom, face it, you’re boring. The only time I’ve ever seen you act a little crazy is when Trey’s done something to make you mad.”

  “I’m not going to get mad,” Katrine assured her, as if she’d practiced the line over and over. “I act out of character when I allow Trey to anger me. Run along now, he’ll he here any minute and I need to find a decent pair of shoes.”

  Wearing a frown that indicated Shelly found her mother’s decision disappointing, the girl did as instructed, Beauregard tagging along behind her obediently.

  Katrine turned back to the mirror and practiced appearing serene. She planned to be in control of her emotions tonight. She planned on having a nice time. Whether the hockey game bored her or not, she would act interested. There wouldn’t be one single thing Trey could do to make her angry. Nothing, was going to spoil this date.

  The sound of his car pulling into the drive set her heart racing. The fact that she wasn’t wearing any shoes sent her racing around the room in search. She spotted a pair of tan flats and barely got them on before the doorbell rang.

  Repeating, I will not get mad, over and over in her head, Katrine hurried downstairs, walked to the front door and opened it. She breathed a sigh of relief. Trey wasn’t wearing a tux. Jeans, a striped Oxford shirt, a light-weight jacket and tennis shoes completed his ensemble. By all appearances, they were going to a hockey game.

  “How’s Beauregard?”

  No hello, nice to see you, or how’s Shelly? How’s the damned dog? I will not get mad. “He’s still alive … for now.” She left him standing in the doorway. “Let me grab my coat off the sofa and I’m ready.”

  “You have something all over the back of your sweater. It looks like … dog hair.”

  “Great.” Katrine moved to the secretarial and began rummaging. She held up the tape. “Would you mind helping me remove it?”

  She heard the door close softly, then felt his warm hand close over hers. “The hair, or the sweater?”

  Despite the teasing tone of his voice, a shiver raced up Katrine’s spine. “The hair,” she specified. “Shelly’s obviously taken the beast outside and will probably be back any second. Besides, Thelma’s in the kitchen.”

  “Does that mean the answer might have been different without any threat of interruption?”

  When she turned her head, Trey’s lips nearly brushed her ear. Should she tell the truth? Honesty is the best policy, she reminded herself. “Maybe,” Katrine compromised.

  “Maybe?” he repeated, surprised. “You’d better watch your step, Kat Summers. Sean McNeil would have taken a maybe for a yes.”

  She laughed softly. “You’re not Sean McNeil.”

  “No. But sometimes, in spite of myself, I wish I were.”

  The husky admission sent heat racing to Katrine’s face, not to mention her private regions. “I take it the ‘date’ hasn’t officially begun. That sounded almost romantic by my standards.”

  His breath, so warm against her ear, released itself in a small sigh that might have passed for regret. “I forgot. The game’s in progress. We’d better hurry. Fair Park Coliseum is a good drive from here.”

  It isn’t a game anymore, Katrine wanted to say, but didn’t get an opportunity. Shelly and Beauregard came charging in, her daughter chattering wildly while the dog barked. Trey finished removing the hair from her sweater, then ushered Katrine outside into the cold. On to the game.

  The red Jag purred in the drive and Katrine hurried to the car, shivering in the chilly night. No limo drivers—no cabbies—just her and Trey—all alone. Privacy. Seduction. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the tempting thoughts surfacing. No games, she reminded herself. As her date politely opened the car door, Katrine slipped inside. “Eeek,” she squawked when her bottom settled against something moving.

  “Oh, good grief!” a feminine voice complained. “Trey, Darling, I told you there wasn’t enough room for the three of us in this itsy car of yours.”

  “Linda?” Katrine whispered in shock. Her head swung from the brunette’s red lips up to Trey, who waited to close the door. “Linda?” she repeated incredulously.

  Trey shrugged. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down.” He smiled, the dimples deepening in his cheeks. “It doesn’t get more romantic than this, does it?”

  I will not get mad.

  “Trey, Darling, the console is cutting into my, well, it’s very uncomfortable, and it’s getting cold in here. Close the door.”

  I won’t get mad
. The door slammed painfully against her hip, forcing Katrine closer to the source of annoyance who had obviously drenched herself in perfume. She thought she recognized the fragrance, then the need to sneeze verified her findings. It was ‘Passion’, and Katrine was allergic to it. She sneezed.

  “Ugh,” Linda groaned. “You’re not sick, are you? In this cramped space, germs would have a field day with my delicate immune system. Maybe you should stay home.”

  “I’m fine,” Katrine choked out. “I’m not in the least mad, I mean sick,” she quickly corrected. “Something in the car is bothering my allergies.”

  “Oh, you have allergies?” Linda made a clucking sound. “I hope your eyes don’t get all puffy and your nose doesn’t start running. You’d be miserable before the evening ends.”

  I will not get mad! “I’m sure whatever’s bothering me will stop once I leave the car,” Katrine assured her.

  The driver side door opened. Trey climbed inside and settled behind the wheel. “You girls all set?”

  Linda giggled. “Trey Darling, you’re so silly, calling us girls. Isn’t he cute?”

  I won’t, no way will I get mad! “Cute as a rattlesnake,” she muttered.

  “What was that, Katrine?” Trey shifted the Jag into reverse and eased from the drive.

  She heard the smile in his voice. “I said, cute as a little ol’ button,” Katrine mimicked Linda’s gooey tone.

  “That’s what I thought you said,” he countered with enough sarcasm to suggest the opposite.

  “Now, Trey Darling, I want you to tell me all about hockey so I’ll understand what’s happening. I wish we’d met before you graduated, then I could have watched you play. I think two people having common backgrounds and common interests are so important in a relationship. Don’t you agree, Kat?”

  Such as journalism? Katrine mentally counted to ten, pretending to ponder the question. “I suppose it’s important to respect each other’s interests, but in my books, and I mean that literally, ‘opposites attract’ has always been a favorite theme of romance. It makes a relationship much more interesting.”

  “Mmmm,” Linda contemplated. “Still, I’d think attraction would only last so long. In reality, a constant clash of wills would wear itself thin. I mean, after the sex wore off, where would you be?”

  “Hopefully, too old to care,” Katrine answered dryly.

  Trey laughed, winning himself a dark look from his ex-wife. “I believe you wanted me to explain the rules of hockey,” he reminded Linda, seemingly in an attempt to defuse what promised to he a heated discussion.

  “Oh yes, please do,” Linda gushed. “This is so exciting. Just like old times. Well, almost.” She glanced quickly at Katrine, then turned her attention back on Trey.

  I won’t get mad, but I never said I wouldn’t kill her. Ten ways. Time only allotted Katrine ten gruesome ways to take her revenge on Linda before they reached the coliseum. She ignored Trey’s explanation of how the sport of hockey originated, the rules, etcetera, and concentrated instead on her most ingenious form of torture. Linda at the world’s largest shopping mall, forced to wander aimlessly from shop to shop without a credit card to her name, tangles in her hair, fingernail polish chipped—and Katrine’s favorite, with her ruby-red lipstick smeared all the way up to her pert little nose.

  Katrine giggled softly at the thought. She didn’t like the sound of her own voice. It smacked of madness. Not insanity really, but something very close. Trey Syndrome, she redefined the term. A temporary condition that oddly disappeared when he did, and understandably returned, when he did.

  “Here we are.” Trey darted into a parking place, receiving a loud horn blast from a Toyota vying for the same spot.

  When the Toyota’s headlights glared into the passenger side window, Katrine did something she’d never done before. Subtly, she expressed her view thus far of the evening with a vulgar gesture. Afterwards, she felt wickedly wonderful, and then it dawned on Katrine. She seemed headed toward the edge of insanity and her brakes were being controlled by a Barbie Doll and the man she strongly suspected she’d fallen in love with—a man who just happened to be the cupcake’s ex-husband. A fall seemed inevitable.

  ———

  There had been the irritating wait in line to exchange tickets for entrance; the tiring walk around the coliseum to find their section. Then the nauseous press of bodies as they filed through the doors and down the steps leading to their seats, and finally, the unromantic seating arrangement that ended up with Trey, Linda and herself, seated in just that order.

  The safety rope of Katrine’s sanity began to unravel. Linda’s perfume was about to gag her and the man sitting directly behind Katrine kept belching loudly. I’ll ignore Linda and Trey, she decided, pretending an interest in the players skating around the ice. I won’t get mad.

  “Would either of you care for a Coke, some popcorn or a hot dog?”

  Trey’s question penetrated the wall Katrine built around herself. “I’ll have a Coke and popcorn,” she decided.

  “A diet soda for me,” Linda specified. “And no popcorn. I’ve got to watch my figure. I’m still the same size as when we got married, Trey. I haven’t changed a bit.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  Katrine unconsciously lifted a brow. His muttered agreement hadn’t sounded too flattering. She must have mistaken the sarcastic tone of his voice. Men probably found little to complain about regarding Linda. So she was a little dimwitted and a lot annoying, both faults could be ignored if she kept her mouth shut and just sat around being gorgeous.

  She’d make the perfect heroine, appearance wise anyway. Linda had dark, shiny, brown hair cut in a style that never appeared mussed. Her skin was china doll flawless, her eyes a soft velvet brown. She had a petite frame, a generous bust line, and a tiny waist that flared into nicely rounded hips.

  It was sickening that someone so vain had been blessed with so much. Katrine had walked behind Trey and Linda a couple of times, hoping the woman’s clinging stretch slacks would reveal a too big butt or some other compensation—no such fault had been found. As Trey squeezed past her, she noted the two made a perfect pair. A perfect pair of asses.

  “Nice, wasn’t it?” Linda questioned beside her.

  “Very nice,” Katrine answered distractedly, then felt a burst of heat blaze a trail across her cheeks. Surely Linda hadn’t made reference to Trey’s…

  “What was nice?” she asked.

  “It was nice of Trey to get us front row seats. I believe this is your first hockey game, too?”

  “Oh, yes it was considerate,” Katrine admitted. “I can at least write some drivel about him seeing that I got a close-up view.”

  “You sound as if your dates haven’t been all that romantic,” Linda speculated. “Of course, I’ve kept up with the articles, but one can’t help but read between the lines when that dirty little gossip rag flashes those vulgar covers of the two of you. Trey said I totally misunderstood the conversation at the restaurant last weekend, but tell me, just between us girls, are you sleeping with him?”

  Linda had just revealed a major character flaw in Katrine’s opinion. The woman lacked tact. “I believe that would be just between Trey and me.”

  “I don’t think you are,” Linda said with a satisfied smirk. “I guess he told me the truth about the feature.”

  “Which is?”

  “That it’s strictly business. He assured me the two of you don’t have a relationship going on the side, but, well, I had my doubts. I suppose I felt a moment of insecurity.”

  “You poor thing,” Katrine drawled sarcastically. “You were jealous of little ol’ me?”

  “Not really.” Linda laughed. “You know how men are? They don’t know what they want until a woman takes them in hand and tells them. Sometimes they even want the wrong thing. I feared Trey might be confused about his feelings for you, but now I see there’s nothing to concern myself about.”

  Tiny red dots appeared before Katr
ine’s eyes. Trey’s ex-wife was a bitch with a capital ‘B’. Nothing to be concerned over? No relationship between them? Trey might be confused? “I wouldn’t recommend trying to take him in hand just yet,” she said softly.

  “What was that?”

  Katrine jumped, then glanced up to find Trey extending her a Coke and a box of popcorn. How much had he heard? “I said the ice looks a little thin,” she answered.

  “Does it?” He smiled slightly.

  “I told her not to worry herself over it,” Linda commented stiffly. “It appears solid enough to me.” Her gaze slid Katrine’s direction and narrowed. War had been declared.

  A loud blast of organ music, followed by a cheer and strains of the National Anthem began the game. Once Katrine reseated herself, she tried to concentrate on the uniformed men positioning themselves on the ice and forget about the combatant seated next to her. After the, what had Trey called it? Oh well, after the little black thing fell to the floor, all hell broke loose.

  Trey, along with most of the coliseum’s occupants, came to his feet. Linda, who stood beside him, clapped her hands with fake exuberance and managed to rub her breasts against his arm by accident a few times. Katrine wanted to twist her empty little head off by accident!

  “Go Dallas, go Dallas,” the annoying man behind her began to chant.

  Turning, Katrine cast the overweight, bald man a dirty look. He failed to heed her warning.

  “Kick butt, Boys!” he bellowed. “Send the Thunder back to Wichita without any noise left in ‘em!”

  It seemed unfair so many people were cheering for the Dallas team when the Wichita team had few supporters present. Besides, the visiting team was obviously loosing. The Dallas team had knocked the little black thing in a net three times, and the visitors hadn’t done the same even once. Katrine thought the Wichita team’s uniforms were prettier, and she liked an underdog.

  “Kick butt, Thunder!” she shouted with gusto.

  “Katrine!”