“Don’t beat yourself up, Kate. If you want to cast blame, then blame me. I can’t remember Nicole at all, yet it looks as if we have a child together. What does that make me?”
Kate had no answer. She shrugged. “I can drop in to see Max tomorrow while you’re at rugby. She may be able to help.”
“I hoped you’d come to watch me play tomorrow. I have a ticket for you.”
“Me?” Kate’s brows winged upward in surprise. “I don’t know much about rugby. Give the ticket to someone who will appreciate it. I won’t know anyone anyway. I’d have to talk to myself.”
“Caryn’s going. Some of the wives and girlfriends go to the games, so you wouldn’t have to sit by yourself. We can drop in on Maxine tomorrow after the game.”
“I don’t know,” Kate hedged.
“I’d like you to see me play,” he said, his face creasing into a little-boy look that was hard to resist.
Kate checked the instinctive refusal that sprang to her lips. “What about the publicity? Journalists?”
Lane turned the car into his garage, pulled on the handbrake and switched off the ignition. He turned to Kate in the dimness of the car interior. “The publicity won’t be any worse than what it is now. Lots of people have seen us together this week. Does it really matter?”
“I suppose not.” Kate hesitated. “Okay, thank you. I’d love to see the game tomorrow.”
* * * * *
The next day
On her third circuit around the block, Kate finally spotted a space large enough to park her car. She slowed, indicated and blinked in astonishment when another motorist blithely stole the spot. Blast.
“I don’t believe it.” Kate thumped the steering wheel and glared at the elderly parking-space thief. Dressed in a tracksuit, her gray hair elegant in a tight bun, she jumped from the car with an agility many younger people would envy. Kate stared after her, stunned. And still without a place to park.
A large yellow bus sped past, packed with spectators, and she wished she’d taken public transport too. Sighing loudly, she prepared for a fourth circuit of the neighboring streets.
Eventually, she found parking two streets farther away from Eden Park. She contemplated her old, scruffy runners. At least she had done something right, putting comfort ahead of fashion.
Rugby fever was high in Auckland due to the amazing playing record of the home team this season. As Kate walked to the park, the noise rose noticeably and the streams of people heading to the stadium thickened until they were all reduced to a slow shuffle. Kate produced her ticket from her wallet for the gateman and received directions to her seat. She observed the crowded park with interest. Her first experience of a live rugby match of this magnitude was an eye-opener and quite different from the provincial games she’d attended in the past.
The crowd already seated in the grandstand hummed with growing anticipation as the curtain-raiser match ended. The schoolboy team ran from the field to rounds of hearty clapping and cheering. Chatter buzzed and music blared through a sound system. A squad of cheerleaders ran onto the field, their pom-poms twirling amid catcalls from the young men on the bank. The music rose, a flamboyant crescendo, and the squad commenced their routine, tanned arms waving and toned, shapely legs kicking high.
The Auckland Blue’s Seagull mascot flapped along the sideline, intent on stirring audience participation. Kate pushed through the sea of people. They varied in age but were constant in the team they supported. Kate spied a bank of empty seats, checked her ticket number and slipped into one.
The opposite side of the stadium was a choppy sea of blue and white while Queensland fans dotted the area in front with small buoyant red patches.
“Is that you, Kate?”
At the sound of her name, Kate jumped. She wheeled about, nerves jumping until she recognized the speaker. Her smile turned sheepish. “Hi, Caryn. You caught me daydreaming.”
“Lane said you were coming. I knew this was your seat but I didn’t recognize you in the hat and glasses.”
Kate lifted the large sunglasses off her nose, giving Caryn a clearer view of the artistic blue and white paint adorning most of her face. “My disguise is good then,” Kate said. “Lane told me not to worry about the press, but I didn’t think it could hurt if they were a little confused.” The other woman didn’t seem perturbed to see her so Kate relaxed. Obviously Lane was telling the truth about their relationship.
Caryn laughed and plonked herself onto the seat beside Kate’s. “I think you’re safe,” she said dryly. “A true-blue Auckland fan couldn’t have done better. Some of the other wives and girlfriends are here today. They’ll be out in a minute.”
Kickoff neared. The seats beside Caryn and Kate filled, players’ wives and girlfriends sliding into place seconds before kick off. It was too noisy for introductions. She’d wait for halftime.
Kate glanced around the stadium. Not an empty seat in the house. The loudspeaker crackled. The crowd settled. The Queensland fifteen ran on the field accompanied by cheers, but the cry that went up when the Blues appeared sounded deafening.
“Home team advantage,” Caryn mouthed.
Kate nodded, settling back to watch the game unfold. “Which number is Lane?”
“He’s number eleven, on the wing today,” Caryn said.
Caryn’s easy expertise impressed Kate since she’d never really concentrated on learning the rules. A foreign language held fewer mysteries for her than New Zealand’s favorite game of rugby. She studied the different formations the players used. No doubt she’d absorbed a little from the heated discussions between Jamie and the twins. She grinned at the thought of them. The boys would be pea green with envy when they found out they’d missed this game.
The excited roar of the crowd pulled her from her reverie and their groan of disappointment when the referee blew his whistle had her leaning forward in her seat, watching intently.
As the game proceeded, Kate joined with the crowd. She cheered and marveled at the superb skill shown by both teams trying to score. Fascinated, Kate watched Caryn, the players’ wives and girlfriends scream encouragement, the din deafening.
Kate peered at the players on the field. The crowd groaned, bursting into jubilant, unrestrained shouting a few seconds later.
“Go, Lane!” Caryn shrieked beside her.
Kate stared at the pile of hefty rugby players on the ground below the goal posts. She inhaled, holding her breath as the players peeled from the pile one by one. Where was Lane? Her held breath whooshed out when the last player pushed to his feet, still clutching the ball.
Lane pumped his fist in the air in a gesture of triumph. The referee raised his arm and blasted on his whistle. The sound system crackled to life. “A try to Gerrard! Auckland leads ten-nil.”
Caryn leaned toward Kate and shouted above the noise. “It’s nearly halftime. I need to make some calls. Introduce yourself to the others during the break. They’re a friendly bunch.”
Kate nodded.
“Tell Lane I’ll see him later tonight.”
“Okay, Caryn. See you later and thanks.”
Five minutes later, the sound of the halftime siren blasted through the grounds. A burst of chatter sprang up and the crowd settled back to discuss the progress and dissect the game. Some stood, stretching and massaging numb bottoms while others scurried for the hot chips and hot dog stand.
Kate turned to the group of women seated alongside. About to introduce herself, the friendly words froze on her lips when she heard her name mentioned.
“What do you think of the business with Lane Gerrard?”
A tired-looking brunette spoke first. “I think this Kate person’s fabricated the whole story.”
“Yeah, but Lane’s close-mouthed about it,” a bubbly redhead stated. “I don’t know. I think there may be a story there, something else that hasn’t come out yet.”
The old adage about eavesdroppers sprang to mind. Kate didn’t want to hear any more, but she didn’t fee
l comfortable about introducing herself now. She stood abruptly but had to wait for three huge men to pass before she could escape. She eyed the group of women warily, wondering if they would recognize her while she waited. Despite her fears, none of them gave her a second look. They were too intent on assassinating her character.
“Of course there is. The assistant who works for Caryn told me confidentially the other day that Lane intends to sue the woman for custody of the kid. She said the woman didn’t have much money and the kid would be better off with Lane.”
Another chimed in. “The kid is his then?”
“So I’m told. Evidently Caryn confirmed it.”
A protest sprang to Kate’s lips. She pushed against the line of people filing past, desperate for escape.
“Do you think he’ll pay her off?”
“He’ll have to. I can’t imagine she’ll let go of the golden goose without a fight.”
Kate tried to shove into a gap. The man she pushed turned to glare. “Wait ya turn! What’s the hurry, love? Plenty of time ’til the second half starts.”
Several feminine heads swiveled to stare but they soon lost interest and turned their attention back to the fascinating gossip session.
“She’s a clever girl waiting to bring her child out in the open. Ten years ago, or even five come to that, Lane didn’t have the money he has now. No, this Kate Alexander has her head straight. I wonder if she’s the brains behind this or if she has a hotshot lawyer directing from behind the scenes.”
Kate’s hands convulsed to tight fists, her face grew hot with angry heat. These women knew nothing. They had no right to discuss her, making her sound like a scheming tramp. And Caryn! Kate’s mouth compressed and a strong wave of dislike for the chirpy blonde tore through her. They’d said the gossip came from Caryn’s office so Lane must be aware of it.
Kate’s confidence in her ability to read people, still shaky and recovering from the Steve years, slipped a notch. Perhaps Lane was like Steve and economical with the truth, stretching it to suit his own needs, she thought, insecurities rearing up to nip at her hard-won self-assurance. Perhaps he was a chameleon like Steve. She’d started to trust Lane, but what if it was all a façade, an act for her benefit?
“There you go, love,” an elderly man said. He bowed his head in a courtly gesture. “Step in front of me.”
“Thank you,” Kate murmured. She slid into her allocated place in the swarm of spectators and stepped blindly forward. Once free of the crowd, Kate increased her pace. She stomped through the entrance gates, shrugging off the gateman’s polite attempt to give her a pass out so she could return.
“I don’t want one,” she snapped.
The lengthy walk back to her car took half the time due to her towering temper. She unlocked the car and jerked the door open. Jamie was her son. Not Lane’s or anyone else’s. Hers.
Chapter Eleven
Distanced from the barrage of catty comments, calm should have descended. Instead, fury swept through her anew. Kate switched on the ignition to her car and stomped on the accelerator. The engine roared, echoing her unrest. She glanced in the rear-vision mirror and huffed out a sigh that lifted her fringe off her forehead. Hindsight made her admit some—no most—of her anger was directed at herself.
There was nothing mature in the manner she’d handled the situation, running away like a scared child at a new school. Her only defense lay in the past and in particular, Steve. Both had featured in her mind lately. At eighteen, she’d made mistakes. She admitted it. Unfortunately, at times the emotional seesaw and second-guessing crept back to haunt and color her actions in the present.
Kate sighed again. After checking the road was clear, she swung on the wheel to make a U-turn. Her foot forced the accelerator to the floor but instead of moving smoothly forward, the car lurched to one side, barely missing the van parked in front. Realizing she’d cause an accident if she didn’t pay attention, she reached down to release the handbrake.
It was off.
Grimacing, she tried to pull from the parking space again. The same awkward list occurred.
“Oh, this is just great,” she muttered, briefly touching her forehead to the steering wheel in a gesture of peevishness. After a deep breath, Kate switched off the ignition and climbed from the car. She stalked round the hood to the passenger’s side.
“A flat tire.” Her groan emerged long and heartfelt. Okay, basic car maintenance—she could do that. Then her gaze traveled the length of the car. The soft hiss of escaping air indicated another rapidly deflating tire.
Irritation boiled over into temper and Kate kicked the front tire. The howl of pain that burst between her clenched teeth made passersby stare. Two teenage girls darted a quick look at Kate and crossed to the other side of the road. Kate didn’t know whether to laugh at the girls’ reaction or cry at her cursed bad luck. She sank to a heap on the sidewalk, placed her head in her hands and groaned.
“Do you need help, love?”
The gruff, masculine voice snapped her head up with a start. Kate’s gaze raced over massive tree-trunk legs to settle on the tattooed face of a fierce-looking man. Instinctively wary, she edged away until she noticed the sincere concern in his brown eyes. She jerked her head toward the pathetically listing Nissan. “Two flat tires. Only one spare,” she said.
The grin softened his fearsome face. “I could help you change one tire.”
Although he appeared amiable, too many strange things had happened to her recently for Kate to encourage chitchat. Lectures from her parents about stranger-danger flooded her mind. “Thanks, but I can manage.”
“It’s not a problem,” he insisted.
A taxi drove past. Two young men and a girl chatted outside an old villa. There were lots of people about, a mere holler away. Kate gave a stiff nod and accepted the beefy hand he extended to haul her to her feet. She hobbled to the boot and removed her spare and jack.
“You really can manage,” he said, admiration filling his voice after taking in her sure, deft movements when she slid the jack under the wheel.
“Yeah.” Kate tightened the final nut and straightened.
Her newfound friend examined the flat tire they’d removed. “A Z-nail!” He let the tire drop to the ground and squatted by the front of the car to examine the second flat. Finally, he turned to Kate. “Someone did this on purpose. No other explanation for two flats.”
Kate’s face tightened with apprehension as she studied the two-pronged nail fixed firmly in her tire. The nails were probably placed in front of both her tires and she’d driven over them. Her gaze raked the faces of two men who walked past. Was the culprit watching to see her reaction? Or was she merely the random victim of unruly teenagers? “I read about people dropping Z-nails on the Northern motorway last month.”
“The cops haven’t caught the culprit yet. Caused a lot of damage. You should probably report this,” the man said.
The caring concern on his tattooed face made her want to howl. “I intend to. I’m being stalked.” Gesturing at her flat tires, she grimaced. “I’d say this is another prank.”
“Then you need to tell the cops.”
“I will. I’ve reported the other practical jokes. I’ll let them know about my tires, but so far, they haven’t done much to help.”
He lowered his head in a sage nod. “Not enough manpower. The nails might not be related.”
“Maybe.” But instinct told Kate they were. Once again, she scanned her surroundings, searching for anything out of place.
“I’ve gotta go. My Mrs. worries.” The big man hesitated. “My name is Jake Hohaia. I’m in the phone book. If I can help, ring me.”
The man’s unselfish offer humbled Kate. Words seemed so inadequate, she thought, all too aware of her earlier behavior when she’d blamed Lane and Caryn for spreading slander without letting them defend themselves. Shame swept through Kate, coloring her cheeks. Brows furrowed together as she admitted she’d been wrong to jump to conclusions.
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“Thank you for the offer, Jake.” She extended her hand. “I’m Kate Alexander.”
“I know.” A toothy grin spread across his face as his beefy hand engulfed hers. “I read the papers. How are you going to get home?”
“I’ll grab the bus or a cab.”
“All right. You take care. And remember what I said, if you ever need help, ring me.”
Kate smiled her thanks and waved him off home. After locking the car, she hoisted her bag over one shoulder and headed for the bus stop.
Once home, Kate cleaned off her face paint and busied herself with housework, using the time spent doing the mindless chores to think and plan the words she’d use to apologize.
The hammering on her front door around six came as no surprise, but she still flinched. Sensing it was Lane, she peeled the yellow rubber gloves from her hands and dropped them on the countertop. Apprehension spiraled nerves low in her belly. Footsteps slowed as Steve’s face, livid and red with anger, flashed through her mind. Kate flinched, steeling against the remembered pain of the previous time he’d struck her. The strident blast of the doorbell jerked her back to the present. Thinking about an apology was suddenly much easier than facing Lane.
After inhaling deeply, Kate jerked the front door open. “Lane…” Every word she’d rehearsed earlier vanished from her mind, leaving a mass of confusion. Mute, she stared at his concerned face.
He grabbed her in a bone-crushing embrace before she managed to untangle her thoughts. “Damn it, Kate, why didn’t you come to the after-match function? I was worried sick about you!”
Freshly showered male teased her senses, pushing bewilderment and uneasiness even higher. Somehow, this man had wormed his way into her affections, becoming a big part of her life. Stark fear nipped at her common sense. With her emotions engaged, he held the power to hurt her badly. If anything, today had reinforced her problems regarding her ability to trust.
“We arranged to meet after the game. When you weren’t there, I was concerned because no one had seen you.” He pushed her away to arm’s length, searching her expression.
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