Or maybe there was a perfectly logical explanation.
Turning back to the desk, Adam buzzed Nell. “Hold my calls,” he said when she answered. “And don’t let anyone, not even Lara, come through that door.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Braddock.”
Now there was a woman after his own heart, he thought. But as he settled into his big, leather chair, Katie was the only woman who seemed to have a claim on his heart. It was only of her that he thought. He recalled with soft delight how she had so easily turned Bryce’s teasing back on him this morning, how she had been as quick as the Energizer Bunny to let anyone listening know she had spent a night possessed of spectacular dreams. Whether or not they realized she had spent the night with him was unimportant. He knew. And she knew. And that was spectacular enough.
He closed his eyes and recalled the sweetly sinful feel of her bare foot rubbing his leg under the table, out of view, but somehow erotically public. He let himself exult for just a minute in the feeling of satisfaction that she had chosen him over his brothers, and hadn’t hesitated to say so.
Slowly, deliberately, he sank into the memories of last night, of Katie in the solarium, exerting a great deal of energy to seduce him, of her enthusiasm, of her body, naked and lovely in his arms. He let the images seep through him, vivid and intoxicating, until they took up all of his thoughts, all of his attention, and curved his lips into a soft smile of sheer and simple pleasure.
She was, he’d discovered, a woman of extremes. Fire in the night. Ice water in the morning. At the moment, that seemed a fair enough trade.
KATIE PACED from the leafy Boston fern to the dark green, feathery spikes of the Norfolk pine. “He’ll probably never speak to me again.”
Archer carefully patted down a mound of potting soil. “Never’s a long time.”
“I don’t care one way or the other,” she said, half to herself as she made the return trip to the fern. “He deserved it, you know. He really did.”
There was no point in disagreeing with her. She’d been working herself up to this for the past hour, ever since Archer had persuaded her to help him with his plantings and prunings in the arboretum this morning. He thought it was healthy for her to vent her whole spiel of emotions and, personally, he thought pouring the ice water in Adam’s lap had been a magnificent way to make her point. “You’re right,” he said. “My grandson does need to learn to listen.”
“You bet he does. If he’d listened to me in the first place…” She let her vehemence fade to a frown. “What I don’t understand is how you—probably the nicest man I’ve ever met—could have such a…a starched shirt for a grandson.”
“Oh, he comes from a long line of starched shirts, Katie. I was much like Adam when I was younger. Probably would have been just as consumed by work as he is, if Janey hadn’t come along to keep my priorities straight. My father was all starch, all business, all the time. On the day of his final and fatal heart attack, the stubborn old fool ignored the doctors, left the hospital, and went to the office. Adam is probably going to turn out just like him…unless someone special comes along to adjust his attitude.”
Katie sighed. “No doubt someone that special won’t have to dump ice water in his lap to do it.” She made another fern to tree loop. “He’s going to fire me, you know.”
“I imagine he may be thinking about it.”
“Of course he is. He can’t have a waitress under his roof. That would upset the balance of his universe, turn his world on its ear, signal the final hours of humanity and civilization as he knows it. He has to fire me. It’s the only way to salve his pride.”
“Well, perhaps not the only way.” Archer thought he should stand up for Adam, at least a little. “He might settle for an apology.”
“From whom? The glass blower? The city, for supplying the water? The maid who put the pitcher on the sideboard? Abbott, for not wrestling it out of my hands?” She paused to draw a breath. “And just in case you missed it, the list of people who might possibly owe him an apology does not include me.”
Archer smiled to himself. She had spunk. He’d hand her that. And she wasn’t intimidated by Adam. Or any Braddock, apparently. Another plus in her favor. “I suppose he could just have you banished.”
She frowned and resumed pacing. “I guess that’s better than having me vanish. Although you might want to advise him that any suspicious disappearances will be thoroughly investigated by the UWA.” She paused, looked at him with a livewire spark in her eyes. “That’s the United Waitresses’ Association, of which I am proud to be a member.”
He smiled, so she’d know he was on her side. “I don’t think it’s the idea of your being a waitress that bothers him.”
“Well, of course it is. You heard him this morning. That was you? The waitress? He couldn’t have sounded more appalled, if he’d tried.”
“Sure he could have, if he’d tried.” Archer chuckled, hoping to pull her out of her grump.
But instead of brightening, her eyes flashed a belated capitulation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Braddock, for venting like that. You’re his grandfather and the last person I should be ranting to about this. I should be in my room, haranguing Adam in private while I pack, instead of maligning him to you.” She paused, frowned, looked unhappy, but resigned. “I wish I could be here for the party, but there’s no way I can stay now. He’s going to fire me and I’ll have to leave. Probably today.”
“I’m not going to let him fire you, Katie.”
Her smile thanked him. “He’s your grandson. It’s more important that he be here, and happy, for your party than for me to stick around and cause problems. The arrangements are all set, basically. Someone else could oversee the final preparations. There’s really no reason for you to stick your neck out for me.”
Archer decided, despite Ilsa’s cautionary advice, to run just a bit of interference. “Other than the fact that I want you to be at my birthday party?” he began gently. “Other than the fact that I hate to see my grandson throw away his best chance at true love because of a little ice water?”
Katie stopped pacing altogether. “T-true love?” she repeated, her voice squeaking on the words, as if he had made a joke and she hadn’t quite caught the punchline.
Sending a silent apology to Ilsa, Archer plunged on. “I knew ten minutes after I met my Janey that I would love her until the day I died. It took about two weeks to convince her that I wasn’t crazy and two years of marriage before she confessed it had taken her less than a minute to know I was the right guy for her. I’m telling you that, Katie, because love is a precious gift, whether it happens in an instant or grows slower than an oak tree. Adam has found that gift in you, Katie. He’s in love with you. You must know that, even if he doesn’t.”
Her expression shifted, all trace of humor blanching into panic. “L-love?” she repeated again. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. He hardly knows me. He doesn’t even like me. He wants me to be different, not impulsive, more like him. He wants me to wear shoes.” Her voice trailed off, but Archer could see the rundown of evidence as it flitted across her expression and then, the dawning of awareness in her eyes, the coalescence of possibility…probability…certainty—not that Adam was in love with her, but that she was in love with him. Truly. For always. She looked stunned, scared…and determined not to show it. “No,” she denied. “We come from completely different backgrounds, have conflicting ideas about what’s important. It would never work, even if…even if…” But he could see the barriers falling even as she struggled to list them. “I mean, he comes from all this. He’s a Braddock.” She gestured vaguely, encompassing the power, wealth and privilege that was a viable part of the name. “And I’m a…a waitress!”
“Don’t be a snob, Katie. You’re a woman of many talents. He’s a man with unplumbed depths. Adam shouldn’t be punished because his last name is Braddock, any more than you should be penalized for who you have chosen to be. It’s the experiences of your hearts you need to consider, not
the separate lives you’ve led up until your paths merged onto this one.” He could see he’d overdone it, pushed too hard. She was backing away from him in spirit, even before her feet took the first backward steps. Realizing he probably should have heeded Ilsa’s advice, Archer touched her hand, leaving a streak of rich, dark soil on her fair skin. “Forgive an old man his meddling, Katie,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Mark it down to the sobering reality of yet another birthday. I had hoped to see at least one of my grandsons settled by now, had thought perhaps I might live to see the start of a new generation of Braddocks.” He let his voice quaver a little, shamelessly appealing to her sympathy. “Age makes a man soft, you know, in the heart as well as the head…and I’m not embarrassed to say that if I could choose for Adam, you’d be my pick.”
Her eyes misted with emotion. Or at least, Archer chose to believe they did. “Thank you,” she said and leaned forward to press an affectionate kiss to his wizened cheek. “That’s a lovely thing to say, but—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I know. I should mind my own business.”
“He’s going to fire me,” she said, as if it were certain.
“Stay for my party, Katie. Please.”
She was reluctant to commit. “I’ll stay until Adam orders me to go,” she compromised.
When she had left and he was alone in the deep green sanctuary, Archer allowed himself a low, satisfied chuckle. “Yes, yes,” he said aloud, imagining his Janey present there with him and chiding him gently for his interference. “I know it’s not the way you or Ilsa would handle such delicate matters, but it didn’t turn out so badly, now, did it? I just gave her something to think about, tweaked the situation a little, that’s all.”
There was a soft rustling from the Norfolk pine, a sound as uncertain as an angel’s exasperated sigh…probably nothing more than an insect alighting on a branch. But Archer returned to his gardening with a happy, hopeful heart.
KATIE STUFFED everything into the duffel bag, pulled out the new dresses, then jammed them back in again. She’d never had so much trouble packing before. That’s what came of buying new clothes, of enjoying the feel of new fabric, of paying too much attention to what she wore. Adam had done that to her. Made her aware, self-conscious. Made her fall in love with him.
With a sigh, she sank to the floor and pulled everything out of the duffel. Time to start over. Begin anew. Quit while she was ahead. But her hand closed around the red dress and wouldn’t let go. She’d been in love before…that heady, kick-up-your-heels state-of-being where colors were brighter and music was softer, and the whole world slowed to a waltz. It was one of her favorite experiences. But this wasn’t like that. Since her conversation with Adam’s grandfather earlier, this had become a roller coaster of a ride and she was scared, exhilarated, scared, off-balance…scared. Life was too short to feel like this. She’d wanted Adam’s attention, sure. Had set out and schemed to get it. Maybe she’d even wanted him to fall in love with her. Well, of course, she had. What red-blooded American woman wouldn’t want Adam Braddock besotted with love for her?
But Katie hadn’t meant for it to be the real deal, the one true love of his life. Certainly not that. She’d thought—if she’d actually thought about it at all—that she and Adam might share a summer romance, something that ended when the party was over, not something that didn’t…gulp…end at all.
Well, Mr. Braddock was wrong. That’s all there was to it. She and Adam were barely even on the same planet. They had no future together. She’d dumped ice water on him and he was going to fire her. Period. End of story. She stuffed the red dress into the bag first this time, crushing it into the far corner, and tossing in everything else on top. She’d check in with the agency Monday, see what housing was available in Borneo. Or Alaska. That might be far enough away from here for her to find a nice forgetfulness.
Her hand closed over the plastic-covered sample pack of nail polish and she hesitated. Red, blue, lime green, purple, yellow, orange, pink, gold, silver and magenta. Circus colors. Ten of them. She did hate to miss the party. She’d worked really hard on it, and to quit now…well, it felt wrong, as if she’d been cheated. She’d never been in charge of planning anything before and, even though she’d had considerable help in decision-making from Ilsa, she’d made all the contacts, organized all the arrangements herself, actually planned the whole party. And she’d like to see it through. She’d told Mr. Braddock she would stay. Maybe she could, too. Really there was no reason she couldn’t stay just one more week. Running away would work just as well a week from Sunday. It didn’t have to happen today.
Except that Adam was going to fire her and it would be much harder to act like a party planner after that. Maybe she could appeal to his practical side, point out that he couldn’t replace her at this late date—which Adam, being Adam, would take as a challenge to prove that he most certainly could replace her.
Katie sighed, resolutely set the nail polish in her give-away pile, and zipped the duffel bag. She was ready. One thing about traveling light, it didn’t take long to pack. She glanced at her little travel clock. Six o’clock. Adam might even be home by now. She’d spent the day firming up details for the party. If she was going to get fired, she wanted Adam to know that she had, at least, done the job he’d begged her to do. He’d be sorry when he realized what a good job she’d done, too. He’d be sorry he hadn’t listened to her. Sorry he hadn’t trusted her. Sorry he hadn’t been more careful about breaking her heart.
But that was the other thing about traveling light. No room for emotional baggage. Worst case scenario: she’d just have to leave her heart behind this time and let it catch up once it was on the mend. It was a shame really, that this experience couldn’t have lasted a little longer. She liked it here, liked Braddock Hall, liked the town and the people in it.
Sitting back on her heels, she wondered what would happen at the town council meeting on Saturday. Would the council vote to brick or not to brick? To put up flags or tinsel reindeer? She closed her eyes and imagined herself living here in Sea Change, owning a little tea and sandwich shop on Dockside Avenue, participating in the fusses that passed for city management in this quaint old town. Her fantasy grew by leaps and bounds—she decorated the tea and sandwich shop in eclectic motifs that could be changed on a whim; she campaigned for a seat on the council, won the election and voted Adam out of the chairmanship. Now that would be a fairy-tale ending, she decided.
A tap on her door popped the daydream in mideffervescent bubble.
“Mr. Adam would like to see you in his study,” Abbott said when she opened the door.
Katie frowned. “When?”
The butler looked apologetic, as if he knew the axe was about to fall. “He’s waiting for you now.”
She got up. “I’ll just put on my shoes.”
“Miss Katie? I’ve, uh, taken the liberty of leaving a pitcher of water in Mr. Adam’s study…in case you need it.”
Her smile flashed in surprise. “Why, thank you, Abbott. I’m touched.”
His lips barely made the bend to a smile, but his nod told her she wasn’t without supporters in the household, even if their loyalty lay with Adam.
Of course, she’d have to be touched in the head to go near Adam with another water pitcher. She’d be lucky if he didn’t empty one over her in retaliation. Still, it was a nice gesture for Abbott to have made. With a long, drawn-out sigh, she slipped on her sturdy Old Maine Trotters and headed downstairs to face the firing squad.
“COME IN, KATIE.” Adam stood, tall and stern-looking behind his desk.
She lifted her chin from the safety of the doorway.
“Abbott said you wanted to see me?”
“Close the door.”
She stomped down the temptation to make a run for it while she still had the chance and reminded herself that she could have marched out while he was at the office, and she still had a full head of steam. He could have fussed and fumed to his heart’s
content once she was gone when it would have been no skin off her nose. But she hadn’t done that. No, she’d waited around all day for him to come home and fire her because she’d told Mr. Braddock she would. And because Adam would have considered any other action cowardice. No way did she want him to think she was afraid to face him.
She wasn’t, as it happened, so she closed the door and turned around, her knees shaking like yellow Jell-O, her backside as close to the door as she could get it. “Yes?” she said in her coolest tones. No way would she make this easy for him either.
“Did you catch the hem of your dress in the door?” he asked, pleasantly enough. “Looks like you may be trapped there.”
She stepped into the center of the room to prove she was as loose as he was, and indifferent into the bargain. “Nope, not enough fabric in this dress for that.” She gave an impulsive, self-conscious tug at the ruffled hem of the little black dress. “So if I had been caught between the door and the doorframe, you’d be facing a big fat personal injury lawsuit.”
“I see.” He moved slowly to the front of the desk. “Should I write you a check now?”
She blinked. “Wouldn’t you rather wait until I’m actually injured?”
His lips curved in a slow smile and her stupid heart dropped like a rock at his feet. She had to get off of this roller coaster. “I was referring,” he continued, “to the check for the five thousand I agreed to pay you for planning Grandfather’s party.”
“Oh.” This certainly wasn’t the way she thought these conversations usually began. “It was five thousand then and five thousand after the party,” she reminded him because she wanted to sound professional. “Plus a very generous budget.” She managed a Mona Lisa smile. “Oh, yes, and carte blanche. Don’t forget that.”
“No.” He crossed his arms across his stomach. Not a particularly friendly gesture. “Nell tells me you never picked up your retainer. She says you never even called to ask about it.”
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