"Bribery and collusion."
"What?"
"I paid her to work for you tomorrow, and she agreed to do it."
"Don't you think you should have consulted me?"
He wasn't deceived by her mild tone. "I could have," he agreed. "But you would have argued and confused the issue. As it stands, it works out beautifully. Beth needed the extra money, and I wanted us to have more time together."
Her eyes darkened with indignation, and she drew herself up as high as her sixty-three inches would allow. "Did you stop to think that I might have plans of my own?"
"Since you expected to be working all day, no."
"Look, this may come as a shock to you, but I don't need a social director. I'm twenty-five, not fifteen ..."
She ignored his murmured, "Thank God for small favors," and plowed on. "I've been making my own arrangements, planning my own life for some time now, and I can't imagine why all of a sudden you think that I need you to organize my every waking moment."
He moved to the striped sofa and sat down. "And sleeping."
She almost overlooked the quiet comment. Almost, but not quite.
"What?"
"You heard me," he said evenly. "I told you the first night we went to dinner that I wanted you sleeping in my bed. I don't want you to forget it."
"I don't even think about it," she said, lying through her teeth. She shot a quick glance at the big man sitting with rocklike patience across from her.
Why me? she reflected. All she asked out of life was an ordinary man, pleasant, uncomplicated and agreeable, with a sense of humor. And what did she get?
None of the above.
In all fairness, though, she had to admit that his sense of humor was developing. When they first met he had been in a state of unrelenting grimness. Now he actually smiled. Every now and then.
"I'm going to have to teach you to enjoy life," she said, unconsciously verbalizing her thoughts.
"Fair enough," he agreed promptly. "And I'll teach you to enjoy love."
"How do you know I don't?"
"Honey, as skittish as you are, you've either been sadly neglected or abused. And you don't have the look of someone who's been mistreated."
She eyed his bland face suspiciously. Was he laughing at her again? Blast the man! He might be lacking some of the traits she considered desirable, but he had enough self-possession for a regiment!
Kara sighed audibly. "'Why," she asked a spot on the ceiling, "can't men be satisfied with a simple relationship?"
"The simpler it is, the better a man likes it," Dane explained to the same spot, shaking his head sadly at her lack of understanding. "Nothing pleases him more than a relationship reduced to its bare necessities."
Kara rose, giggling despite herself. "I give up."
He reached out a hand, snagged her wrist and tumbled her into his lap. "Good. That saves a lot of time."
She snatched her hand away and poked at his chest with a slim finger. "Look," she said, forcing herself to meet that shimmering green gaze head-on, "you might as well get this straight. We are not going to be lovers. I sleep in my bed; you sleep in yours. That's the way it is and that's the way it stays."
"Wrong," he contradicted deliberately, confiscating her hand and placing a kiss on the prodding finger.
"We'll be lovers before the month is over. You'll be in my bed, your bare body curled against mine, wondering what all the fuss was about."
"You're so sure of yourself," she whispered, momentarily shaken by his statement. "Maybe that act works with other women," she said finally, rallying, "but not with me."
"There are no other women, not now. And it's no act." His fingers laced in the silvery silkiness of her hair, cradling her head as he lowered his. His lips were just a whisper away, his gaze locked with hers, when he stopped.
"Just as there hasn't been another man for you. Ever. Isn't that so, Kara?" He watched intently as awareness flickered reluctantly to life in her dreamy dark eyes. "Isn't it?" he insisted.
Her pupils narrowed, warning him too late as she twisted lithely, slid out of his arms and scooted to the end of the couch with more haste than grace. "You pick the damnedest times to ask questions," she complained lightly. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and wondered if he would believe it was due to exertion.
"I thought not," he said with satisfaction, ignoring her words. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me, Kara. Tell me there's been no other man."
"You really do take the prize for rudenest, you know that, Dane?" Her eyes sparkled with anger.
His voice was sharp with impatience. "Rudeness be damned. I want an answer."
"You are the most infuriating man I've ever known!" she shouted, glaring at his inflexible face.
"All right! If it's so important! I've never slept with a man! And as long as we're setting the record straight, if and when I do, it won't be with you!"
"The hell it won't."
His words were soft now, but they hadn't lost any of their determination. His sudden grin surprised her.
"Face it, my Lady Moonlight, we have an appointment with destiny in my bed, before the month is over."
The words forming in Kara's mind were shattered by the ringing of the telephone. She slid from the couch, saying, "How much do you want to bet it's Aunt Tillie offering to be a chaperone?"
"Hello." She shot a triumphant glance at Dane.
"Hi, Aunt Tillie. Yes, he's here."
Dane groaned, and Kara's smile grew wider.
It faded abruptly as she listened. "You've got plumbing problems," she informed him. "Your pipe in the master bathroom has sprung a leak, and the water's on its way into the-bedroom. Aunt Tillie's getting a bit vague here. Says it's heading toward something big and round."
"My bed," he muttered, standing and checking his pocket for his car keys.
"Thanks, Aunt Tillie. He's on his way." She replaced the receiver, saying, "You'd better hurry. She's worried about the big, round thi... your bed?"
"Right," he said tersely, heading for the door.
"You have a round bed?" she asked, relishing his harassed expression.
"Anything wrong with that?" he asked stoically.
He'd break Tim's neck, he decided for the twentieth time. What was the use of having a friend in interior decorating if you couldn't trust him? He'd asked Tim to finish the bedroom while he was on a trip. And that's what he'd found when he'd come back.
"Not a thing. I've just never seen one. How do you put sheets on?" It was an effort, but she remained straight-faced.
"Like any other bed," he said prosaically. "You start in one place and work your way around." He'd almost sent it back, he remembered. But it didn't look bad, and it was comfortable. That was all he required from a bed.
"Well, if I had any doubts before, they're gone now. I wouldn't be caught dead in a round bed."
His hands rested on her shoulders, and he drew her close for a quick, hard kiss. "You'll be very much alive," he assured her. "And I'll guarantee one thing. Before the night is over you won't know or care what shape bed you're in."
Kara glared at his retreating back until the door slammed behind him. Then her expression slowly changed. A satisfied smile curved her lips, and she laughed softly. She wondered when Dane would realize that he had neither questioned nor scoffed at Tillie's call. She'd give a lot to see the expression on his face when he remembered how he'd automatically reached for his keys and headed for the door.
Chapter 7
"You mean Dane's gone? No warning or anything? Just disappeared?" Judy asked in amazement.
"Not quite." Kara curled up comfortably in the large wicker chair across the desk from her partner.
"He called yesterday. Said there was some trouble on a construction site somewhere and he had to go straighten it out. Can't you just picture it?" she asked dreamily. "He'll be down there snapping out orders to someone other than me, peering over someone else's shoulder for a change, finding fault with ... what?"
"I said," Judy repeated patiently, "where is 'down there'?"
Kara waved her hand in a vaguely southern direction. "Brazil."
'"Good grief!"
"Or maybe it was Bolivia. I'm not sure."
"Well, they are right next to each other," Judy
Scratching the quetzal off her mental list of things to be done, Kara returned to the drawing board and was soon immersed in a wrought-iron gate, subtly entwining the family initials into the scrollwork. Her rumbling stomach eventually broke her concentration. Mildly surprised to find that it was four-thirty and that she had skipped lunch, she added one final touch, put her supplies away and went home.
The telephone began ringing as she pulled out her key. Muttering darkly as she fought with the two locks, she flung open the door and raced for the telephone.
"Hi, Aunt Tillie," she gasped.
"Hello, Kara, dear. You didn't have to hurry. I knew you were on the way."
"It's that second lock. I'm still not used to---oh, my God!"
"What's the matter?"
"I knew it was you," Kara gasped in astonishment.
"Of course you did," Tillie agreed.
"You don't understand. I knew it was you. " Kara's dark eyes were wide with wonder.
"Is this the first time it's happened?" her aunt asked after a moment.
"First? You mean it'll happen again?" Kara demanded in a weak voice.
"It's another step, Kara." Tillie's voice was warm with understanding.
"Well, I don't like it. I want it to stop right now! It's getting altogether too spooky!"
Her aunt sighed philosophically. "It's lonely, too. But you've already learned that. And there aren't too many people you can share it with. But you learn to cope. And, if you're flexible, you manage to help people by keeping one jump ahead of things."
Kara's voice grew quiet. "Is that why you're calling, Aunt Tillie?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you keeping ahead of things? Are you warning me about something?"
Tillie's voice was once again light. "Walter does all the warning these days. Such a busy man."
Kara waited patiently for her aunt to come to the point.
"He did want me to mention something to you."
Kara remained silent, waiting.
"But he's getting quite cryptic," Tillie complained. "It's most annoying."
"What did he say, Aunt Tillie?"
"To follow your feelings."
"Follow my what?"
"Feelings, feelings!"
"Sounds like something out of a musical," Kara grumbled. "Just what am I supposed to do with that profound bit of advice?"
"Think about it," her aunt suggested. "By the way, say hello to Dane for me."
"He's out of town," Kara said absently, brooding over her aunt's words.
"I know, but he'll be calling. Give him my love."
Kara gingerly replaced the receiver and backed away from it as if it were a strange dog baring its teeth. "I don't want to take another step," she informed it firmly. "Picking a winner at the races is one thing; looking into the future is altogether different. I don't want ..."
She yelped in surprise as the telephone rang again.
Lunging forward, she lifted the receiver and tentatively held it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Kara? Is anything wrong? You sound odd." Her partner's concerned voice was soft in her ear.
"Judy? Thank God!"
"Something ls wrong. What is it?"
"Nothing now. Because I didn't know it was you."
"And it would have been bad if you had known?"
"Awful! But now I know that Aunt Tillie was just a coincidence, not another step."
"Well, of course," Judy said, her voice quivering with amusement. "How obvious. Kara, why is having a conversation with you always like running a circular obstacle course? There are lots of hurdles, but no beginning or end."
"Well, I know what I'm talking about," Kara said reasonably. "That's really all that matters."
"I'm not going to get involved in one of your convoluted discussions right now," Judy said firmly. "I called to see if we're still meeting for dinner."
"Of course. Why wouldn't we be?"
"No reason at all. But the last time we tried this, you forgot and stood me up."
"You're right," Kara admitted. "But nothing, neither rain nor shine nor sleet nor hail will make me late tonight. I'll be there at seven on the dot."
Spurred on by her promise, she dropped the receiver and headed for her bedroom. After spreading a white sleeveless dress on her bed she moved into the bathroom and turned both faucets on. Glancing at her watch, she decided that she had time for one of those much discussed long baths. She poured in some floral-scented crystals and watched as the water first frothed creamily, then blossomed into large, sparkling bubbles.
Kara trotted into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of iced tea. Walking back through the living room, she collected an art magazine she'd bought earlier that day. She deposited those two items on the edge of the tub, then returned to the bedroom, picked up the cordless telephone and set it beside the tub. Within seconds she had shed her clothes.
"Ahhhh." She eased back and cocooned herself in fragrant water up to her neck. Baths were absolutely, delightfully, decadently sinful, she decided. With a bit of concentrated effort, she just might be able to direct all her affairs from the tub. Just think! A tray spanning the top could hold food to stave off hunger pangs; a telephone could be her connection to the outside world; and a good book at hand would aid her escape from that same world when it became too hectic.
She closed her eyes and contemplated her water-logged future with a drowsy smile. It probably had some drawbacks. She'd have to ask Dane, she thought with a yawn. He'd undoubtedly come up with a solid dozen or so without even blinking an eye.
The shrill ringing of the telephone roused her.
Groping over the side of the tub with a damp hand, she noted sleepily that most of the water had trickled down the drain.
"Hello," she said huskily.
"Kara?" There was no mistaking the deep voice.
He could have been in the next room.
"Dane? Where on earth are you?"
"Rio de Janeiro."
"What time is it?" she asked in a panic.
"A little after eleven."
"What?" She sat up abruptly. "Judy's going to murder me! I was supposed to meet her at seven!"
His chuckle was a soft, totally masculine sound.
"Relax. We're five hours ahead of you. You'll make it. "
"I still have to get dressed," she informed him.
"What are you wearing?"
She looked down at herself. "Bubbles," she said honestly.
"What? Just where the hell are you going?"
It didn't take a psychic to know where his mind was wandering, she thought with indignation. "I'm wearing bubbles now because I'm getting out of the bathtub. In a few minutes I'll have on a dress that would satisfy even your puritan outlook. Besides," she added belatedly, remembering that they had a few things to discuss, "it's none of your business what I wear."
"W're going to have a long talk about that when I get home," he said firmly.
"We certainly are!"
"But in the meantime," he said emphatically, "all you have to do is remember that it is my business. Everything about you is my business. What you wear, what you don't wear, what you do---everything!"
"Now hold on just a damn minute," she snapped.
"In case you haven't figured this out, I own myself. I belong to me and no one else!"
"Honey," he said with a grim certainty that took her breath away, "the first night we went to dinner the pink slip changed hands."
Kara was silent, wondering how the sound of this man's voice could make her dizzy with rage while, at the same time, warming her with an unfamiliar sense of security.
"Is there some real purpose to this call?" she finally asked w
ith asperity.
Damned if I know, he thought in atypical confusion. I'm calling because I'm thousands of miles away and, for the first time in my life, homesick. Because I can't hold you in my arms and feel your body curve against mine as if it were made for that very purpose.
Because hearing the sound of your voice is as necessary as breathing.
He raked his hands through his shower-damp hair and listened to himself say, "I suppose not. I'm about to crawl into a very large,very empty bed." His words grew slow and emphatic. "I'm tired of large, empty beds. That's another thing we're going to talk about when I get back."
Closing his eyes in disgust, he wondered what it was about Kara that brought out a heretofore unknown streak of raw possessiveness in him. And that made him come across as a rampant male chauvinist every time he opened his mouth.
"I'm not responsible for the condition of your bed," she reminded him. "I'm sure you can remedy the situation any time you like."
He changed the subject abruptly. "How are your . . . uh . . . bubbles doing?" He pictured her petite form clad in nothing but froth and was aware of the dull ache of his own body.
Kara looked down with a clinical eye. "Popping," she said succinctly. She grinned at the sound of a smothered oath. Served him right for asking, she thought.
"Kara?" His voice was husky when it broke the long silence.
"Yes?"
". . . Nothing." The pause that followed puzzled her."Just...Kara."
He was definitely acting peculiar, she decided. He wasn't commanding or demanding. If she hadn't known better, she'd almost have said that he was uncertain.
"Promise me something?"
"If I can," she answered cautiously.
"Don't do anything harebrained. If you have to get into trouble, at least wait until I get back."
There! Now he was back to normal! "I don't plan on doing anything you'd disapprove of," she said sedately.
She heard an unconvinced grunt before he told her to enjoy her dinner with Judy and hung up.
Kara reached for a towel and patted her body until she was dry and bubble-free. What she had said was the truth, she told herself virtuously. He automatically took a dim view of most of her actions, but if he didn't know what she was up to, he couldn't disapprove. Right? Right!
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