Kathy

by T. L. Haddix

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  She patted his hands and went to stand before the cheery fire he’d lit before he’d joined her in the office. “I’m used to it, even though it does irritate me greatly from time to time. Oddly enough, the ‘better’ I get, the less patience I seem to have with her.” She walked over to the stereo. “How does this thing sound?”

  “Why don’t we find out?” Charles joined her and ran his fingertips over the spines of the albums until he reached a particular title. He pulled it out and put it on the turntable, and in a few seconds, the sultry notes of a saxophone drifted through the room. He held out his hand. “Dance?”

  A winsome smile teased her mouth, and after a second, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her close. “I’ll warn you fair and square that it’s been years since I’ve danced, and I was never really good at it. You may not have any toes left at the end of the evening.”

  He grinned and nuzzled her cheek. “I don’t mind. It’ll be worth it. Want to hear a secret?”

  She gazed up at him. “Absolutely.”

  “Ninety-five percent of men, the only reason they like to dance is so they can get their arms around a beautiful woman.”

  “Ninety-five percent, huh? Really?”

  He nodded. “Maybe higher. Maybe ninety-six.”

  Kathy rubbed her hand across his chest. “Are you in the big group or the four percent?”

  Charles tightened his arm, pressing them together from chest to hips, and kissed her temple. “Guess.”

  Her breath shuddered out, and she snuggled in closer. “Then let me tell you a secret—you don’t have to use dancing as an excuse to hold me.”

  All the air in the room disappeared, or at least it felt as if it did. Charles stopped moving and stared at Kathy, struggling for words. “I don’t want to push you too far, too fast. That’s the last thing I want.”

  “What’s the first?” she whispered, touching his chin with her fingers.

  He didn’t know how in the world to answer her. There was so much he wanted from her—needed, really—that he didn’t know where to begin. So he did the simplest thing of all—he kissed her.

  Unlike the earlier embrace in the bedroom, there was no hesitancy in either of them. The music faded, the heat from the fireplace vanished, and the room ceased to exist as they touched. The kiss went on forever, the most powerful experience Charles had ever had, and it wasn’t nearly enough.

  If Kathy pulled away now, he thought he might just die from longing for her.

  Almost as soon as he had the idea, she pressed her hands lightly against his chest. “I don’t know if I can do this or not. But… could we try to take this someplace more private?”

  Needing to make sure he understood, Charles cleared his throat. “To bed?”

  She nodded and looked down. “If you want.”

  “Sweetheart, what do you think?” He traced the curve of her cheek. “Let me take care of the fire.”

  He’d no sooner stepped back than the echoing peal of the doorbell rang through the house.

  Kathy jumped then laughed shakily. “Are you expecting someone?”

  He scowled as he started for the hall. “No. And if it isn’t an emergency, I may throw whoever it is off the porch.”

  She laughed. “Charles! I’ll excuse myself for a minute while you take care of that if you don’t mind,” she said, heading for the kitchen.

  “Of course. If you hear a scream or a yell, don’t worry about it.”

  The sound of her laughter followed him to the door.

  Muttering, he glanced out the side panel window. When he saw the elegant blonde standing there with a covered plate in hand, he stared at her, cursing. With dread in the pit of his stomach, he opened the door.

  “Evelyn? What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Kathy had almost made it to the bathroom when she heard Charles’s question. Puzzled, she stopped, listening carefully. What she heard had her shaking her head and retracing her steps, her movement silent thanks to her stockinged feet.

  “Well, if the man won’t come to the mountain, the mountain better come to the man, don’t you think? Here, I brought you this. I made it myself. Peach cobbler.”

  “Evelyn, I—”

  “Your mother told me how stubborn you’ve been in recent weeks. I’m a patient woman, Charles, but even I have my limits. Don’t you think it’s time we quit pretending?”

  “What are you talking about? And what are you doing here?”

  Kathy peered around the corner, taking in the scene in the hall in a glance. Charles was as angry as she’d ever seen him, his face practically a thundercloud as he stood by the door, dish in hand. Evelyn, the debutante from the day of the brunch, stood in front of him, clad in a black lace dress that would have been suitable on a brothel madam. As Kathy watched, Evelyn undid the clasp on the side that held the dress together and let it unwind then fall to the floor in what looked like a practiced move that left her completely nude.

  Charles was shaking his head, his eyes fixed firmly on a point somewhere north of Evelyn’s face. “Don’t you dare! Put that damned dress back on right this instant.”

  “Oh, now. You know you don’t want me to do that,” she purred as she stepped toward him.

  Deciding enough was enough and realizing that if she didn’t act, Charles would have to engage with the woman, Kathy stepped into the hall. She picked up the dress and cleared her throat, the sound making Evelyn spin around, shocked.

  “I believe you dropped this.” Kathy held out the dress, eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, my God! Who are you? Where did you come from? Give me that!” She grabbed the dress from Kathy’s hands, frantically covering herself. “Charles, who is this?”

  “Get dressed right now,” he snapped, looking at the wall as he set down the casserole dish. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is? Your parents… what the hell were you thinking?” He glanced toward Evelyn, visibly relieved to see that she’d gotten the dress back on.

  Red-faced but wholly unrepentant, Evelyn glared at Kathy. “You haven’t answered me. Who are you? What are you doing in my fiancé’s house?”

  Stunned, Kathy looked at Charles, her mind racing for a few seconds to consider the possibility. She dismissed it immediately. She also hurried to get between him and Evelyn as he looked decidedly as though he was ready to strangle the girl.

  “Nice try, sweetie. I’ll definitely give you points for originality. But no.” Kathy felt sorry for Evelyn, but she wasn’t going to put up with the woman’s scheming.

  Evelyn glanced between them, obviously furious at having her plans thwarted. “You’re only putting off the inevitable, you know. Whoever you are”—she looked down her nose at Kathy—“don’t get too comfortable.”

  When Charles cursed and stepped forward, Kathy blocked him with a subtle move. His hands came to her hips as though to move her out of the way, but she braced against him. Her heart was pounding as she waited to see what he would do, a thread of fear racing through her as flashes of old memories rose up. To her vast relief, he stayed put.

  “Evelyn, I’m going to tell you this one time, and I expect you to listen. Whatever little scheme you’ve cooked up with my mother, you can forget about it. I’m not interested you in the least, a fact which I’ve made abundantly clear. Now, you’re going to go back out to your car and drive home, and you’re never going to set foot near my house again.”

  A look of uncertainty had finally begun to work its way across her features, and by the time he was finished speaking, Evelyn was a lot less confident than she’d been. “I thought… I thought you… your mother, she swore you’d come around. I figured you just needed a little push.”

  Charles sighed. “My mother does not speak for me, and she hasn’t for a number of
years. If she’s led you to believe otherwise, for that, I’m truly sorry. But something I’m not is naïve. I’m guessing that I’ll be getting either a very late or very early visit from your mother or mine, if not both. A conveniently timed visit to secure this little plot.”

  Kathy couldn’t help it. She snorted. “Plot is right. It sounds like a half-baked trope from a cheap romance novel.” When Evelyn turned a bright shade of red, Kathy gasped. “Oh, my God. That’s where you got the idea? Really?”

  Arms crossed, Evelyn glared at the wall. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave now.”

  Charles stepped to the side, and this time, Kathy let him move her.

  He didn’t speak until Evelyn was turning the doorknob. “I’ll have your word that you’ll give up on this mission, please.”

  The girl sneered at him, including Kathy in the look. “I wouldn’t have you now if you came served on buttered toast.” With that, she was gone.

  He moved to watch, hands on his hips, as she went down the steps. And he stayed there for several long moments after Kathy heard her car start and drive away. Shoulders and back stiff, he closed the door and turned to look at her.

  She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Charles slumped against the panel. “I should be apologizing to you. That was… an absolute disaster.”

  Kathy walked over to him, standing so close they almost touched. “It was interesting, I’ll give you that. She’s your mother’s chosen daughter-in-law, I suppose. Just how far do you think Evelyn was willing to take this thing?”

  He gave a tired shrug. “If I played along, all the way, including, I’ve no doubt, a fake pregnancy to rush the wedding. Or a real one possibly. Who knows? I’ll have a talk with her father tomorrow. He’ll put an end to this.” He groaned. “My mother really is a good person, but I swear she exists some days to try my patience.”

  “At least you got a peach cobbler out of the mess.” When his lips twitched, she gently tickled his belly then let her hands slide to his sides.

  “Want to hear a secret?”

  Kathy smiled. “Of course.”

  “I hate peach cobbler,” he told her, his voice low. “I hate peaches even. Always have. I can’t stand them.”

  “No! But you live in the Peach State. Half of Atlanta is named Peach this or that.”

  He nodded solemnly. “It’s true.”

  “Tsk, tsk. I suppose we can let that pass this once. But if you tell me you don’t like pecans, I may have to reconsider this whole thing.”

  Charles wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “I love pecans.”

  His gaze was so warm she almost felt as if the words had been a declaration of his affections for her.

  “I’m rather fond of them myself,” she said quietly. She traced a pattern on his chest. “And since I’m fond of you, I’m going to ask you to call me a cab. You look exhausted. I should get out of your hair and let you get some rest.”

  He slid a hand to the back of her neck and, with a feather-light touch, brushed his lips across hers. “I wish you’d stay. I won’t stop you if you want to go, but I really wish you’d stay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very. I might well crash on you here, but I’d like to hold you tonight.”

  Kathy wasn’t about to deny him. She wanted the same thing much too badly. “Then why don’t we go to bed?”

  He closed his eyes, nodding. “I think I’d like that more than anything else in this world.”

  For the first time in years, Kathy felt as though she was truly in control, truly choosing her own path, and much to her surprise, it felt like coming home.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The morning sunlight that streamed through the sheers on the balcony doors gilded the room in color and warmth. Charles came awake slowly, as relaxed and rested as he’d been in a while, and when he stretched, he realized why—he wasn’t alone. Beside him, still sound asleep, was Kathy. She was lying on her back, turned slightly toward him, one hand curled up on the pillow, beside her face.

  Rolling slowly so that he didn’t wake her, Charles moved onto his side and propped himself up on a hand so he could look at her. As it had that fateful day on the beach, the sun picked up the red highlights in her hair, turning them to ruby fire. Freckles danced across the tops of her cheeks and her nose with happy abandon, just enough of them to make him want to run his finger across the soft skin and count the dots. She was so beautiful that looking at her hurt. Not just because she was superficially pretty but because of who she was inside.

  After they’d come to the bedroom last night, Charles had gotten her one of his pajama tops. As much as he wanted to be intimate with her, to make love with her, he was exhausted, and he needed to be able to take his time, to be as careful with her as he could. To not rush things. That consideration was the least she deserved. He didn’t think he imagined the relief on her face when she realized he wasn’t going to push her, and that further confirmed his decision to wait.

  That said, being able to hold her through the night, to wake up beside her, was a priceless gift he’d never thought he’d have.

  She sighed and stretched, and after a moment, she opened her eyes. Her pupils flared as she stilled for a few seconds, then she relaxed.

  “Morning,” he murmured, brushing her hair back away from her ear. He let his hand rest on her shoulder as he smiled.

  Kathy shyly smiled back and touched his hand, covering it with hers. “Mmm.” Her eyes drifted closed, and she snuggled further into the bed.

  They were already touching, but Charles moved in a bit, pulling one of her legs over his hip. He let his hand linger on the bare skin of her thigh the hem of the pajama top exposed, and he rubbed her leg leisurely as he watched her face for any indication that she was uncomfortable. Instead, her smile grew, and she buried her face in the space between their pillows as she reached for him. When she’d settled fully into his arms, pushing him so that he was lying flat on his back, he sighed.

  “That’s better.” He kissed the top of her head and hugged her close.

  After a few minutes, she yawned. “What time is it?”

  “That’s a good question.” He glanced over his shoulder at the alarm clock. “Holy cow. Eight thirty. I must really have been exhausted.”

  “Mmm. You don’t sleep late like this, I take it?”

  “No. Do you?”

  She traced his collarbone. “Sometimes. When I don’t have to work, I have a hard time getting out of bed now and then. Not so much these days, but I’ve spent whole weeks in bed before. That sounds awful.”

  He tugged on one of her curls. “No. It sounds human.” When the phone rang, he groaned. “I’m afraid to answer it. It’s probably my mother.” But he reached for the receiver just the same. “Hello?”

  “Charles? It’s Eliza. I’m sorry to bother you but… by any chance, have you seen my daughter?” There was a thread of humor in her tone and maybe a hint of uncertainty as well.

  “As a matter of fact, I have seen her. Hang on just a second. It’s your mom,” he said, handing the phone to Kathy.

  With wide eyes and a rosy blush, she sat up a bit. “Mama? Is everything okay?”

  Charles waited until she nodded before he kissed the back of her hand and headed into the bathroom. When he came out a few minutes later, she was gone.

  “Kathy?” he called just as he heard a flush from down the hall. “Ah.”

  He stretched his arms up over his head and walked to the double doors then opened them to let in fresh air. The rain from the previous night was gone, leaving the humidity levels low and promising a beautiful day.

  He heard the bathroom door open. Kathy came in a moment later, a bit uncertain as she crossed to him, arms folded over her chest.

  “How’s your mom?”

  “Okay. She wanted to let me k
now they’re going to be out for the day. There’s a day trip Nancy suggested they all take, and Mama wanted to find out if I wanted to go with.”

  “Do you?” He slipped his arms around her, resting his hands on the curves of her hips.

  She shook her head and splayed her fingers out over his chest. “Not with Nancy on board. Mama knows, and she doesn’t push. She just didn’t want me to show up and worry. Plus, I think she wanted to check on me. This is the first night I’ve been away from her in a while.”

  “She’s a good mother.”

  Kathy smiled. “She’s the best. I’m lucky to have her. What are your plans for the day?” Her eyes darted up to his face then back to his chest.

  Charles shrugged. “I figured I’d find time to go talk to Mr. Tinsdale at some point this weekend. I probably should work some, but I’ll be hanged if I can muster up the least bit of interest in shuffling papers. For some reason, I’m really distracted this morning.” He dipped his head to kiss her softly.

  “I can’t imagine why,” she said when he pulled back a minute later. She trailed her hand down his chest, across his stomach, and after a slight hesitation, she cupped him through the fabric of his pajama bottoms. “Not unless this has something to do with your distraction.”

  Swallowing hard, Charles closed his eyes. He couldn’t speak as she touched him. But when she moved back then sank to her knees in front of him, he protested. “Kathy, you don’t have to…”

  Eyes solemn despite the smile playing around her lips, she nodded. “I know I don’t have to. But I’d like to. I’d like to take this back. For me.”

  A harsh laugh escaped him as a flood of emotions and need raced through him, and he threaded his fingers into her hair. “Then you’d best let me sit down first, because my knees are already about to give out.”