“Well, congratulations. Now you do.” She dazzled the assembled and attentive Braddocks with a wide smile, Adam included. “I’m starving,” she said. “How long until dinner?”
From there, Katie owned the evening. She could do no wrong. In one brief, civilized encounter, she’d refused to be patronized and introduced a heretofore unknown concept under the Braddock dinner table—barefoot casual with a silver toe ring.
LARA SAT FORWARD in the chair, laying her hand flat and decisively on Adam’s desk, eagerness in every nuance of her being. “I say that while Richard Wallace rethinks his decision to sell his company, you stop playing Mr. Nice Guy and authorize a takeover. The whole team is ready to move on this and wondering why we haven’t done it already.”
Adam looked from his assistant to the attorney seated next to her. “Allen?”
“If we’re going to do it, now’s the time, Adam. There’s a rumor on the street that Dutton is going to make a move on the Wallace Company if our deal falls through.” Allen shrugged, an action meant to disguise that he was as eager for the kill as Lara. “My guess is we have until the end of the week to make a decision, one way or the other.”
Adam nodded, wondering why he couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for this strategy or even any particular affront at being called a Mr. Nice Guy. Maybe because he was thinking hard about something else. Shoes. Bare feet. Long legs. Nice body. Wide smile. Blue eyes. Dusky hair. Silky curls. Katie. And right back to shoes again. Or rather…no shoes.
He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her bare feet. She’d been barefoot at breakfast on Sunday morning, too, because, she’d said, who wanted to put on shoes first thing in the morning? He didn’t know how she felt about wearing shoes at noon because Bryce had hijacked her midmorning and took her off to see his collection of sailboats. Adam didn’t know if she would have worn shoes at dinner that night either, because before he even realized plans for the evening were afoot, Peter had whisked her away to a party at Rorie Reynolds’s house. It wasn’t unusual for Peter to socialize with the local crowd. He’d come to the Hall from an entirely different environment and culture and was as comfortable with the kids in town as with any of the teens on the social register. There wasn’t a thing wrong with that, of course, simply another part of his youngest brother that Adam had never quite understood. But, be that as it may, he didn’t like the idea that Katie had spent the whole day out with his brothers instead of getting right to the work she’d been hired to do. He’d thought she would want to spend at least a part of the day with him, talking about plans for the party. But neither he, nor the job she was at the Hall to do, seemed to be uppermost on her mind.
The following morning, he’d left early, driving himself and leaving Benson and the Rolls for Katie’s use. He’d thought of at least half a dozen items she might not realize needed immediate attention, so he had Nell send a fax as soon as he arrived at the office. When no reply was forthcoming, he had Nell phone. No answer, so he had Nell send another fax. By ten o’clock it was clear that either the phone lines to Katie’s suite weren’t working, or she was ignoring his suggestions, or she wasn’t there to answer either phone or fax. He instructed Nell to call Abbott, who would find Ms. Canton and instruct her to phone Adam at his office, immediately if not sooner.
It was after one when Nell returned with the information that Ms. Canton was out. Adam fumed, wondering which of his brothers had stolen her away from her party planning duties today and if, perhaps, she was thinking she could parlay her job into a permanent change of address and last name.
Ridiculous, of course. Neither of his brothers was looking for a long-term relationship, merely a temporary diversion. But Katie might not realize that or she might believe she could bring about a change of heart. She could have wrangled the invitation to Braddock Hall with plans to snag one of the elusive brothers in matrimony or at least, a compromising position. She might believe she could steal James—probably the easiest Braddock target—out from under Monica’s trim little nose. It was even possible she thought Archer was fair game for a savvy, mercenary little party-planner. After all, Adam really knew almost nothing about Katie and much as he hated to agree with Monica about anything, it was odd for a woman to have only two pair of shoes.
“Adam?”
He came back with a start to the inquiring frown on Lara’s face and Allen’s quizzical expression. “I’m thinking,” he said because he was, although not about business. He couldn’t recall ever having so much trouble concentrating. Nor had he ever spent much time worrying about who his brothers happened to be romancing. But something about Katie bothered him.
Okay, so it was more his own attraction to her that bothered him. That and a nagging sense of familiarity he still had not been able to place. Then, just when he managed to push those concerns aside, a very unsettling suspicion that one or the other of his brothers would have Katie in bed within the week returned to distract him. Just the thought of her with Bryce…or Peter turned his stomach into a churning knot of agitation and jealousy.
No, not jealousy. Of course, it wasn’t that. He was feeling a simple—and understandable—concern at the possibility of trouble stirring under his own roof. This party to celebrate his grandfather’s birthday was important, a milestone. Who knew how many more birthdays Archer might have? Who could predict how many more events the Braddock family would be together to celebrate? No, this party had to be one they would all remember with pleasure, and not because of an ill-conceived and ill-timed romance. It was bad enough that James had brought yet another unremarkable fiancée home for the occasion.
A soft, almost soundless sigh reached his ears and Adam felt the impatience pace about his office like a caged tiger. He knew Lara wanted his answer, was biting her tongue to keep from asking him what was taking so long. He knew that in her mind, his decision was a foregone conclusion. Business was business and Richard Wallace had thumbed his nose at Braddock Industries. And that, to her, was not just incomprehensible, but unforgivable.
But when he pushed his thoughts toward the business at hand, they took a fast slide toward home base, returning like a boomerang to Katie and the trouble he had inadvertently invited into his home with her. But was she really such a threat? So his brothers were attentive to her. So what? They were all grown-ups, for the most part, and Katie was one of only two women present at the Hall. Since the other one, Monica, was off-limits and of limited interest, anyway, it was only natural Bryce and Peter would choose to flirt with Katie. A psychologist would probably say that with their father flaunting another, obviously doomed-for-failure relationship in their faces, it was perfectly understandable they would shower any available other woman in the house with extra attention.
As for the rest, sooner or later he would remember where he’d met her before. And so what if she had only two pair of shoes? She’d told him she collected experiences, not things, and as odd as the concept was, when coupled with her all-embracing approach to life, it sounded normal. Right, even. He was wasting his time imagining trouble where none existed. Why, it was ridiculous to think Katie had manipulated him or anything else about the situation. He’d pursued her like a madman, hadn’t given her an opportunity to refuse either the job or the invitation to stay at the Hall. And his speculation was not only pointless, but a waste of time.
He had inherited his grandfather’s ability to read a man’s character in a handshake and a relatively small amount of conversation. He had learned from his grandmother the art and integrity of trusting his feelings. He was seldom wrong about the people he met and he knew he wasn’t wrong about Katie. She was special in a way he couldn’t quite define and honest all the way down to her ten bare toes.
There was, he decided, nothing to worry about.
Except, perhaps, why he could not get the persistent and tantalizing image of Katie’s bare feet out of his head.
“Wallace won’t take a call from me?” he asked, before Lara’s silent frustration grew even louder.
Okay, so it was decision time. Adam turned his chair to look out the windows at the always lovely, usually soothing, view of the Providence River. For some reason, he had no taste for a cutthroat takeover. Maybe, as Katie had innocently suggested, Wallace wasn’t looking forward to retirement. The man had developed his company out of sheer grit and determination. He’d worked indecently hard all his life. Maybe not working was a more fearful prospect than holding on to a company that had outgrown his ability to manage successfully.
Adam tented his hands and tapped his thumbs together in a debating rhythm. One decision down. One to go.
“Offer Wallace a position in development,” he said without turning around.
There was a pregnant pause before Lara’s astounded, “What?” filled the office.
“You heard me.” Adam continued to face the window, monitoring the progress of a shell as it was propelled through the water by a team of oarsmen.
“In our development department?” Allen asked, clearly hesitant about the idea.
“He won’t want to come to us, so set this up as a whole new department through the manufacturing company. Put him in charge of the whole idea. Tell him we want him to work on improving the extrusion process for the steel.” Adam swivelled back to face his disapproving audience. “I believe that will take care of this final roadblock.”
“Final roadblock?” Lara wasn’t pleased. “I think you’re overly optimistic, Adam.”
Strangely enough, he did feel optimistic all of a sudden. Very optimistic. “I know you’d prefer a more aggressive approach, but that’s my decision.”
Command was implicit in his voice and both Allen and Lara got to their feet immediately, ready to carry out his orders.
At the door, Lara looked back. “You have to admit, a hostile takeover would be more fun.”
“For some, more than others.” He smiled and came to a second decision. “Lara? Where do you buy your shoes?”
ADAM ARRIVED at the Hall with four pair of ladies’ size seven—he’d guessed at the size—shoes and feeling ridiculously proud of himself. The feeling changed fast enough when Abbott informed him that Ms. Canton, along with the rest of the family, had gone into Boston for the day. Even Mr. Archer had taken the trip. And no, Abbott wasn’t expecting them to be back for dinner. He believed, in fact, it had been mentioned that they were going to try a new restaurant.
By the time he finished his own solitary meal, Adam was back to being certain he’d made a huge mistake by inviting Katie to Braddock Hall. An even bigger mistake by being so presumptuous as to buy her shoes. Shoes. What the hell was wrong with him? Well, whatever was wrong with him had started the moment he’d dialed her number. Or maybe it had started when he’d kissed her so impulsively on her porch. Didn’t matter. He was ending this nonsense here and now. She was here to plan his grandfather’s party and he was going to make certain that’s what she did. If he had to supervise every moment of every day she spent in this house, then that’s simply the way it would have to be. From now on, he’d make certain she was so busy putting the party together that she had no time to gallivant off to Boston for the day, or go sailing with Bryce, or run off to parties with Peter…or to do much of anything else.
And first thing tomorrow, he was sending the shoes back to the store.
KATIE HAD THREE DRESSES. A short red one with spaghetti straps. A small blue print, also short, with cap sleeves. And a brief black number with a modest scooped neck and a kicky, inch-wide black and white checked taffeta ruffle around the bottom…to keep it from being ordinary. Combined with, respectively, a white sheer blouse, a sparkly, silver-threaded cotton sweater, and a versatile, multi-colored silk scarf, she could create a variety of different looks. All of them, she thought, suitable for an evening with the we-dress-for-dinner Braddocks. She intended to buy shoes, she really did. But on Sunday, she went with Bryce to Newport during the afternoon and to a party at Rorie’s house with Peter that evening. For both excursions, her Birkenstock sandals were fine with her navy capri pants and the aforementioned cotton sweater. On Monday, there was an impromptu trip to Boston—at Archer’s suggestion—and they didn’t return until late. On Tuesday, she borrowed Ruth’s bicycle and rode into Sea Change, only to find herself right in the middle of a heated discussion between Betina of Betina’s Cut and Curl and Ethan of Sea Change Antiques right in the middle of the Town Square. Betina, considered a newcomer since she’d only owned the beauty salon six measly years, and Ethan, who could trace his roots clear back to 1679, were at odds over a proposal to repave Dockside Avenue with bricks, sidewalks and crosswalks included. Betina and her supporters thought the bricks would lend a sense of history and cozy, small-town flair. Ethan and his constituents said, “Nonsense.” In their view, Sea Change had plenty of real history and was cozy enough as it stood, cracked pavement, deteriorating sidewalks and all.
By the time the discussion ended in a draw, Katie had forgotten about shoes altogether. So that night, when dressing for dinner, she took a length of blue ribbon, laced it loosely around her big toe, looped it twice around her ankle, crossed the strands under her instep and tied it in a perky bow on top. She repeated the procedure on her other foot and thought it was a rather ingenious solution to a temporary problem. But when she saw Adam looking at her feet, not once, but a bunch of times…when she noticed the way he tried not to let her see that he’d noticed her footwear…when she felt the sizzle as his eyes met hers and skittered away as if her gaze burned his…well, she began to rethink the idea of buying shoes. Why spend money on something she didn’t truly need when the Hall had lovely smooth floors and nice, thick wool carpet and, as a bonus, a man who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
Katie had never felt particularly clever when it came to seduction. For one thing, she hadn’t had much practice. For another, she thought the invitation ought, as much as possible, to be a mutual thing. Somehow, though, she couldn’t see Adam Braddock initiating such an invitation to her. He was fighting this attraction too hard. But she knew she wasn’t the only one to recognize the sizzle that ricocheted between them every time their eyes met. And it was not her imagination that the early threads of awareness were growing increasingly stronger, pulling them persistently, irrevocably together like the weaving of an intricate design.
Katie had no idea if anything would come of it, had a thought that Adam might not allow the attraction to run its course, whatever that course might be. But there were still three weeks left before the birthday party and she was in no hurry. So if her being barefoot unsettled him, threw him a little off-balance, and got his mind out of his briefcase for a few minutes every evening…well, why would she stop? In her, admittedly, biased opinion, Adam needed less responsibility and a whole lot more fantasy in his life. Someone needed to be his fantasy woman.
Might as well be her.
At least, he’d be a better man for the experience. She could practically guarantee it.
SHE WAS WEARING ribbons on her feet.
Adam couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t stop looking at them either. Even when they were tucked out of sight under the massive mahogany dining table, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He had no idea even what was served for dinner. Capon? Duck? It could have been raw oysters for all the attention he paid to what he ate. By the time coffee was served, he decided it was time to put a stop to this barefoot nonsense, once and for all.
He hadn’t returned the shoes. It had seemed somehow too foolish to buy them one day and take them back the next. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing he could ask Nell to do, either. So now he wouldn’t have to return them at all. He’d give them to Katie, as he’d originally intended, tactfully suggest it would be best if she’d wear something other than ribbon or jewelry on her feet when she came to dinner, and thereby solve both his discomfort and her embar
rassment at having only two pair of shoes.
It never once occurred to him that she might not appreciate his thoughtfulness.
Chapter Seven
Bryce barely tapped on Adam’s bedroom door before opening it. “Have you seen Katie?” he asked.
Adam frowned at the intrusion and went back to buttoning his shirt. “She’s not in here.”
“That much I already knew,” Bryce said, grinning. “Let me rephrase the question. Do you know where Katie might be?”
“My hope would be that she’s in her office hard at work on Grandfather’s party, but my guess is that since she isn’t with you, she must be with Peter.”
“Peter’s in Boston. He left Sunday.” Bryce entered the room, glanced at Adam, then walked straight into the closet, talking as he went. “If you’d been at dinner the past two nights, you’d know that.”
“Someone has to work around here.”
“What?” came the muffled reply from inside the closet.
Adam pitched his voice to carry his words and his frustration into the closet. “I have to work to keep you in wine and winches.”
Bryce strolled back into the room, carrying a red silk tie, an easy grin still benignly settled on his handsome face. “I appreciate it, too, big brother, but I don’t think Katie would like being called a wench.”
“I was referring to a winch for your sailboat,” Adam said tightly. He’d been in a foul mood for a week now. Ever since Katie had wrapped ribbons around her feet and come to dinner. Ever since she’d told him what he could do with his four pair of ladies’ shoes. “Katie doesn’t seem to like being called a party-planner, either.”
“You’re just mad because she’s not doing this the way you would.”
“If I’d wanted to plan this party, myself, I wouldn’t have hired her to do it.”
“Sure you would have. You like to think you hire an individual to do a job, but the truth is, you want worker bees who buzz around doing a thing exactly the way you would do it yourself. I hate to be the one to disillusion you, here, Adam, but you’re the quintessential my-way-or-the-highway king.” Bryce held up the tie against his yellow plaid sports shirt. “Do you think this is gaudy enough for the club? They have that rule about wearing ties in the dining room, you know, but I never like to be too conventional.”
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