“We’ll take it,” Liz and Jessica chimed in with her. Kate wasn’t sure if they liked the venue as much as she did or if they were just tired of looking. Either way, they wandered off to order themselves a glass of sparkling wine while Kate filled out paperwork and put another deposit on the credit card. She was pretty pleased, if she did say so herself. Two venues in one day—not half bad. She was too antsy to have a glass of wine with them just yet; she wanted to tell Jack about her accomplishments.
With the workday over, her companions would be heading home from the Bubble Lounge. Of course, they both had lives to go home to. Kate tried not to feel sorry for herself, but the feeling still hovered for the briefest of moments. She decided to head back to the office alone once they parted ways. Maybe she’d catch Jack before he went home for the evening.
The sleek white space was empty when she let herself in, though. Even Jen had cleared out for the day. With a sigh, Kate went to drop the paperwork off at her desk. There was an accordion file sitting in her chair. Apparently the previous wedding planner had at least been nice enough to leave his files and she’d inherited them.
“Great. Just great,” she blew her bangs out of her eyes and snatched the offensive brown package off the chair.
Back in her loft, she tried sorting through the meticulous files while waiting for her microwave meal to finish cooking but couldn’t seem to concentrate. A few bites into the tasteless chicken and vegetables, she tossed it in the trash and went to take a hot bath.
She tried sinking into the bubbles to relax after shaving her legs. It took her about fifteen ticks of the clock to realize she was bored. With a little sigh of frustration, she wrapped herself in her favorite robe and went back to the files but the clock and its incessant ticking followed her.
Irritated, she went to stand at her window, looking down at the street below. Even though it was Tuesday, the night still pulsated with music and lights. San Francisco apparently didn’t have the same rules about going to bed early on a work night that the rest of the country did. She toyed with the idea of dressing up and going out. The longer she watched people coming and going, seeming so happy and… alive, the more she wanted to be down there with them.
Temptation won out. With the decision made, she scurried back to her room to get ready as if afraid the party would end before she could get there. She found some slimming black slacks somewhere in the back of her closet. They were remnants from the days when her size eight was closer to a six. She added a clingy black knit top with a scoop neck that she normally would have supplemented with a tank top underneath. With the philosophy that it was better to feel like a tigress than a fool propelling her forward, she didn’t allow herself to think too hard as she hurried through her makeup routine.
She practically skipped down the four flights of stairs, the gravitational pull of the music growing stronger as she stepped out of the rehabbed warehouse and onto the street. It was obvious the crowd was a little younger than she, but Kate didn’t care tonight. She just wanted to lose herself. The bouncer smiled and nodded her in. She flashed a smile back at him, the vibrations from the music seeping up from the soles of her feet and overriding all sense of caution.
Once inside she paused briefly, wondering what to do. She didn’t want to dance alone and didn’t want to stand at the bar like a loser. That’s when she realized this was an art gallery and she was saved. She ordered a martini and contented herself to amble along the walls, peering at the familiar photographs. Although some of the pictures were new to her, the style was definitely Gavin Nichols. She could see why Jack was so taken with his work.
She felt the weight of someone’s stare and self consciously peeked over her shoulder, startled to confirm there was indeed a man watching her from the far side of the room. He was surrounded by a crowd, mostly female, and his face was tilted down and to the side as if he was listening to the woman at his left. But his eyes were definitely on Kate.
Why? Everything in the room seemed to slow down under the heat of his gaze – everything except her heart rate. It was thundering like a runaway train. A blush flooded her cheeks when his lips twitched into a smile and she turned quickly to study the next group of photos.
She took a long sip of her drink to cool her cheeks. She tried to focus on the art, but her mind’s eye kept conjuring the image of messy brown hair and dark eyes. She wondered just what color those eyes were.
“Do you like them?” A husky voice asked close to her ear.
“Very much,” Kate murmured, turning slightly towards the man who had materialized at her side. She looked up and thought fleetingly – his eyes are gray.
“Are you a fan of Gavin Nichols? I don’t think I’ve seen you at any of his other shows.”
“Oh Gavin and I go way back,” Kate joked flippantly, taking another drink in hopes of calming her nerves. The man’s eyebrows shot up in question and the corner of his mouth pulled into a slow smile but he said nothing. “What about you?” Kate couldn’t for the life of her think of something better to say.
“I never miss a show,” he grinned in earnest then. “Which is your favorite?”
“It’s hard to say,” she bit her bottom lip in thought. “The intensity of the color on that one is almost painful, in a good kind of way. But the sepia tones in the picture of the homeless man make it quite beautiful. And the black and whites of the shoreline make the rocky crags so much more dramatic. I have a hard time choosing a favorite.”
“Interesting,” he seemed thoughtful. “I like how you put that.”
“Thank you,” Kate felt her cheeks heat up again. Maybe it was the British accent. Maybe it was because his nearness invaded her every sense. She could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke; it caressed her neck and made her heart trip a funny beat. He smelled amazing, too; she had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.
“You’re not from here,” he stated. “What brings you to San Francisco?”
“Work.” It was partially true.
“Ah, work. And where do you work?”
“The San Franciscan,” she answered, as she waved to the waiter to bring her another drink.
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“Is it? I just started this week so I really don’t know that much about it yet.” She shrugged and paid the waiter for the martini.
“Thirsty?” He eyed the empty glass she handed the waiter.
“It’s awfully warm in here… I’m sorry. I should have asked if you wanted something.”
“Shouldn’t I be offering to get you the drink?”
“I don’t know, should you?” She paused thoughtfully. “You’re not from around here, either.”
“What gave it away?” He arched an eyebrow in mock-surprise.
“What brings you to San Francisco?”
“Work.”
She meant to ask him where he worked, but he’d said the word so close to her ear it sent a new wave of sparks skittering through her nervous system. Instead something along the lines of “Mmm” was all that found its way to her lips. She took another long drink, wondering off-handedly when was the last time she’d consumed this much alcohol this quickly.
“Is this your first time in San Francisco?” He asked politely.
“Yes.”
“And what do you think so far?”
“It’s fascinating.”
“Truly,” his eyes met hers and the thought crossed her mind that there was another layer to his answer.
“More fascinating every minute,” she took another drink.
“Have you seen the upstairs gallery yet?”
“There’s more?”
“Come on. I want to get your take on the Urban Art series,” without thinking, he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd. It was hard to concentrate on much with the heat radiating from the small of her back. She was fairly certain she made coherent conversation as they navigated the winding stairs.
Even after
they reached the gallery, both seemed reluctant to break contact so he held her fingers loosely in his. The conversation flowed freely between them; Kate likened it to being on a raft being pulled deeper out to sea. It was too effortless and enjoyable for her to muster the ability to worry about how quickly it was happening.
Kate wasn’t sure how much time slipped by as they debated the merits and downfalls of each portrait in the upper gallery. She was particularly drawn to the artist’s unusual take on graffiti, capturing images of others’ art and playing that off the beauty of nature in the same shot. It made for an interesting contrast.
“This one feels a little pompous,” she motioned to a cityscape that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the work.
“Pompous? How so?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word. It seems like he’s trying too hard.”
“Really?”
“It’s the sellout shot. Good for postcards but not for art. But then, I’m not an artist,” she shrugged, feeling a little self conscious at her sudden outburst of opinion. “I guess it just doesn’t fit with the other pieces. I wonder what he was thinking when he shot it.”
“One does have to wonder,” the man eyed the piece as if seeing it for the first time before turning to Kate again. “Want a drink?”
“Sure,” Kate swallowed and took a deep breath. Any rational thoughts scattered when he gave her that lopsided grin. As a teenage girl, Kate had whiled away summer days by the pool reading historical romance novels. She’d wondered then what exactly rakish good looks meant. She was beginning to understand.
“Come on,” he opened an office door and motioned for her to follow. She hesitated briefly, but reassured herself that if he intended to kill her, he wouldn’t choose a room with giant windows overlooking the lower gallery.
Tossing the last reservation to the side, she followed him into the sprawling space. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest when the door clicked shut behind her. His nearness was much more palpable now.
Here it was easy to imagine they were the only two people at the party. His presence left little room for her attention to drift elsewhere. Sure, she was vaguely aware of the scenery–the low slung couch in the corner, the mini bar along the back wall. But she was acutely aware of the man pulling her into a kiss.
A long, deep and almost fierce kiss. The kind that made her toes curl. When he pulled away, he gave her a devilish grin.
“Have a seat; I’ll get us a drink.”
Kate nodded numbly and sank into a large leather sofa. Her heart rate slowly returned to normal as she listened to him rifling through cabinets. One of her long fingers rested on her lips; they were still throbbing from his kiss.
“I could have sworn there was more wine than this,” he called from the behind the bar.
“Whatever’s fine,” she called back distractedly. Reality was settling in and it made her a little uneasy. She allowed her eyes to drift around the room. They came to rest on a large print still visible from the main galley. It was the black and white of the little girl and the daisy.
Her breath caught. She was vaguely aware of the man saying that he was running down to the bar and would be right back. Her mind didn’t really register it, though. She was carried back to a memory from her wild and reckless youth.
College. A boy. The boy. The first time Kate had learned that if there was a consequence to be had for an action, it would happen to her. A summertime fling. A baby. How completely livid her mother had been.
And then, the pain. The baby was gone. People assured her it was for the best but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them. Her mother was even more furious. It was almost as if she didn’t believe that Kate had a miscarriage. Her relationship with her mother was torn and had taken years to repair. Kate vowed to color within the lines from that point on.
She glanced around the room. This was way outside the lines. With a gasp, the scale of what she was about to do splashed over Kate like cold water. She knew nothing about this man. He could be a freaking mass murderer for crying out loud.
Or he could break her heart all over again. She jumped up and scurried out the door. That’s as far as she got before the sight of several pairs of angry eyes stopped her short. Of course, his fan club must have seen that kiss.
She hadn’t thought about that. Her lips were still tingling from said kiss; she could still feel the sandpaper of his five o’clock shadow on her chin. It burned her as deeply as any branding iron now, under the heat of their glares.
Kate eyes darted between the women and the bar. The man was chatting easily with the bartender as he opened a bottle of wine. It occurred to her she had to get down the stairs and out the door without him seeing her, and she had one cork to do it. With a last look at the angry mob, she took a deep breath and began the trek, sticking as close to the wall as possible to avoid detection. In her mind’s eye, the stairs stretched on forever, the door loomed far in the distance. Her eyes cut back to the bar. The cork was out of the bottle. He started to turn her way, only to be intercepted by one of his earlier companions.
Kate stopped, her mouth dropping into a little O. That woman certainly hadn’t wasted any time to seize the opportunity. Kate allowed herself a fleeting satisfaction that he seemed to be trying to extract himself from the hyena’s grasp, then remembered her original goal and picked up the pace. She stole another quick peek at him only to realize he’d been waylaid by another from the pack. She was fuming so intently she missed a step, causing her to slide down the last three. She managed to right herself on the landing, albeit with the assistance of a concerned elderly gentleman.
“Thank you, sorry sir,” Kate whispered before practically running to the door that was now tauntingly within reach. She hadn’t remembered the lower gallery as being this crowded. An expletive ran through her mind when she bumped into the first person. One escaped her lips when she got caught in a small group that actually started moving her in the wrong direction.
She had a sudden great empathy for salmon. Only she was swimming really hard upstream to avoid mating. Poor, stupid salmon. They either got eaten by a bear trying to get to the rendezvous or they died shortly thereafter. She’d debate the irony of that one later. For now, she ducked under a waiter’s arm nearly knocking the tray out of his hand and made one final push for the door.
Kate sucked in the night air, feeling a sense of victory. She closed her eyes for just a second, allowing her breath to return to normal before crossing the street to her apartment building. It wasn’t until she was safely inside her own apartment, leaning against the heavy wooden door that the tears came. She didn’t even know his name.
Chapter Three
Kate didn’t sleep much that night. Guilt and regret wrestled in her mind and robbed her of rest. How could she have done something so careless and stupid was replaced with why on earth had she left that beautiful man?
When her alarm went off, she was tired and cranky and felt every one of her years. A shower did little to improve her mood. Neither did the new clothes. She didn’t even bother with the purple heels; they deserved better. She barely troubled herself with make-up and swept her hair up carelessly. Kate just had to get through this one day and she could slink back home to hide in the dark like the freak she was.
She left the wedding file on her kitchen table and had to go back for it. That meant passing the now-quiet gallery twice more. If buildings could laugh, she was pretty sure this one was mocking her. On her third trip by the doors, she noticed the sign in the window. The exhibit would be up through the next week. Kate would be happy when the outward reminders of her encounter would be gone.
She was so rattled she almost walked right by her coffee spot without stopping. By some miracle she made it to work on time, pleased to have a whole hour to collect her thoughts before the morning meeting. She spent her time leaving messages for caterers and rifling through the wedding file. Everything seemed to be in place there. She’d have to keep everyone on schedule a
nd make sure nothing slipped off the radar, but most of the legwork was done.
She updated her Outlook calendar with reminders for fittings, taste tests and mailings while she waited for cheerful receptionists to transfer her to voicemail boxes. Once that was done, she began the process of figuring out which reporters in town mattered. She’d long since learned that the key to a successful event went beyond careful planning and ventured into well-thought out public relations.
She was soon joined by Liz and Jessica. If either noticed her bedraggled appearance, they were too kind to mention it, at first anyway.
“Long night?” Liz could no longer resist.
“To say the least,” Kate closed her eyes only to quickly reopen them when his face danced across her mind.
“Oooh, sounds interesting,” Jessica decided not to reprimand Liz for her poor manners when she realized there might be a good story involved.
“Yes, do tell.”
“Temporary insanity is all I can say,” Kate threw her hands up in the air. “I have absolutely no idea what came over me.”
“What did you do?” Jessica leaned forward.
“I met a guy at the Gavin Nichols showing last night and almost did something really stupid,” Kate whispered breathlessly, unable to believe the words even as she spoke them. “When he went to grab a bottle of wine, I came to my senses and left.”
“Did you…” Liz started.
“No,” Kate jumped in quickly. “But I’m not sure if I’m relieved about that or not.”
“I’ve only known you for two days and just can’t picture you doing that,” Jessica shook her head.
“I’ve known me for thirty-two years and can’t picture it either,” Kate mimicked Jessica’s head shake. “I can’t even begin to describe the pull this guy had on me.”
A throat cleared nervously just as Liz and Jessica’s eyes widened. Kate’s heart sank and she could only guess who’d just overheard that statement. She fixed a smile on her face and turned to greet the bemused face of Jack Cooper. It was the smiling eyes next to his that made her blood run cold and her face heat up at once.
Ties That Bind Page 2