Dream Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “This isn’t happening,” she said and closed her eyes. “I’m not even here.”

  “We need to work on diet and nutrition, too, but we’ll get to that.” They were going to get to a lot of things, he thought, as soon as she didn’t look as if he could knock her flat with one exhale. “Right now, I think you should start off with three-pounders.” He took two metal dumbbells from a rack. “You’ll work up to five. You’re going to want to go buy yourself some girl weights.”

  She opened her eyes again. “Did you say girl weights?”

  “No offense. They make these nice plastic-coated sets of free weights in colors.” He put a weight into each of her hands, curled her fingers around them. The only thing that stopped her from dropping them on his feet was curiosity.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “You mean besides because I find myself oddly attracted to you?” He smiled into her eyes as he positioned her elbows at her waist. “I think I’m starting to like you. Now pretend you’re lifting and lowering these through mud. Concentrate on your biceps and keep your elbows in place.”

  “I don’t want to lift weights.” Hadn’t this man just minutes ago taken her to rough and blistering orgasm? “I want to hit you.”

  “Just think about how much harder you’ll be able to hit me once you’ve got some muscle.” He guided her arms down, then up. “Just like that, but resist both ways.”

  “These are too light. It’s silly.”

  “They won’t feel so light after a few sets. You’re going to work up a nice sweat before I’m finished with you.”

  She sent him a sweet smile. “Yeah, that’s what I thought before.” Pleased with herself, she lowered the weights, lifted them. Then her brain flashed. “Goddamn you, Byron, are you saving me again?”

  He stepped behind her, positioned her shoulders. “Just pump iron, kid. We’ll work out the details later.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was always good to have Aunt Susan and Uncle Tommy home. Kate had worried that something would show in her face—or worse, that there would be something in theirs. The knowledge of crimes past, the doubt of her own innocence. But there had been only concern, and acceptance.

  Their visit also meant extending her stay at Templeton House. It was difficult seeing them every day with the questions she tried to ignore drumming in the back of her mind. Questions she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  She used the routine to carve out the path she intended to follow. Days at the shop—work to challenge the brain and keep it busy. Evenings with her family to soothe the heart. The occasional date with Byron to keep her on her toes.

  He was a new element. Seeing him, wondering about him helped keep her from brooding about the turn her life had taken. She’d decided to think of him as a kind of experiment. Kate preferred that term to “relationship.” And it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experiment. A few dinners, a movie now and again, perhaps a walk on the cliffs.

  Then there were those long, stirring kisses he apparently loved to indulge in. Kisses that had her heart flopping in her chest like a landed trout, sent her senses cartwheeling into each other. Then ended, leaving her aching and baffled. And itchy.

  The entire relationship—no, experiment, she corrected—left him far too much in control. Now that she was feeling a little steadier—all right, healthier—she was going to work on balancing the power.

  “That’s good to see.” Susan Templeton stood at the doorway, her arm tucked through her husband’s. “Our Kate never did enough daydreaming, did she, Tommy?”

  “Not our sensible girl.” He closed the door to the office behind them. He and his wife had worked out the logistics of this maneuver, and following their plan, they flanked the small desk where Kate had been pretending to work.

  “I was trying to calculate our advertising budget for the next quarter.” She flipped the screen saver onto her monitor. “If you’re smart, you two will hide in here before Margo can put you to work.”

  “I promised her a couple of hours.” Thomas winked. “She thinks she charmed me into it, but I get a kick out of working that old cash register.”

  “Maybe you’ll give me some tips on salesmanship. I can’t quite get the knack of it.”

  “Love what you sell, Katie girl, even if you hate it.” He cast an experienced eye around the office, noted the tidy shelves, the organized work space. “Somebody’s been streamlining in here.”

  “Nobody puts things, and people, in their place better than Kate.” Susan laid a hand over Kate’s, kept her soft blue eyes level. “Why haven’t you put Bittle in his?”

  Kate shook her head. Because she’d been waiting for days for one of them to bring it up, she didn’t panic. She had her rationale ready. “It’s not important.” But Susan’s eyes stayed on hers, calm, patient, waiting. “It was too important,” she corrected. “I’m not going to let it matter to me.”

  “Now you listen here, girl—”

  “Tommy,” Susan murmured.

  “No.” He cut his wife off with a snap of sizzling temper. In contrast to Susan, his slate-gray eyes were sizzling. “I know you wanted to soft-pedal this business, Susie, but damned if I will.”

  He loomed over the desk, a tall man, powerfully built, well used to taking control, be it in business or family. “I expected better of you, Kate. Letting yourself get run roughshod over, giving up without a fight. Turning your back on something you worked for your whole life. Worse, getting yourself sick over it instead of standing up to it. I’m ashamed of you.”

  Those were words he’d never said to her before. Words she’d worked her entire life to keep him from saying. Now they struck her like a backhanded slap. “I—I never took any money.”

  “Of course you didn’t take any money.”

  “I did the best I could. I know I let you down. I’m sorry.”

  “We’re not talking about me,” he shot back. “We’re talking about you. You’ve let yourself down.”

  “No, I—” Ashamed of her. He was ashamed of her. And angry. “I put everything I had into my job. I tried to—I thought I was on the fast track to partner, and then you’d—”

  “So the first time you take a knock, you crumble?” He leaned forward, poking his finger at her. “Is that your answer?”

  “No.” Unable to face him, she stared at her hands. “No. They had evidence. I don’t know how, because I swear to you I never took any money.”

  “Give us some credit, Katherine,” Susan said quietly.

  “But they had the forms, my signature.” The breath was backing up in her lungs. “If I’d pushed, they might have filed charges. It might have gone to court. I’d have to . . . You’d have to . . . I know people are whispering about it, and that’s embarrassing for you. But if we just leave it alone, it’ll pass. It’ll just pass.”

  This time Susan held up a hand before her husband could interrupt. She, too, was accustomed to control. “You’re concerned that we’re embarrassed.”

  “It all reflects. It’s all of a piece, isn’t it?” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “I know that what I do reflects on you. If I can just wait it out, build something here with the shop. I know I owe you.”

  “What bullshit is this?” Thomas exploded.

  “Hush, Tommy.” Susan sat back, folded her hands. “I’d like Kate to finish. What do you owe us, Kate?”

  “Everything.” She looked up then, eyes swimming. “Everything. Everything. I hate disappointing you, knowing I’ve disappointed you. I had no way to stop it, to prepare for it. If I could fix it, if I could go back and fix—”

  She broke off, shuddering as she realized she was mixing past and present. “I know how much you’ve given me, and I wanted to pay you back. Once I’d made partner . . .”

  “It would have been a proper return on our investment,” Susan concluded. She got slowly to her feet because every muscle in her body was tingling. “That is insulting, arrogant, and cruel.”

  “Aunt Susie—”
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  “Be quiet. Do you actually believe we expect payment for loving you? How dare you think such a thing?”

  “But I meant—”

  “I know what you meant.” All but shaking with fury, she clutched her husband’s shoulder. “You think we took you into our home, into our lives, because we felt pity for the poor orphaned child? Do you think it was charity—worse, the kind of charity that comes with strings and expectations? Oh, yes,” she continued, fired up now. “The Templetons are known for their charitable works. I assume we fed you, clothed you, educated you because we wanted the community to witness our largesse. And we loved you, comforted you, admired you, disciplined you because we expected you to grow into a successful woman who would then pay us back for our time and effort with the importance of her position.”

  Rather than interrupt what he couldn’t have said better himself, Thomas handed Kate a handkerchief so she could wipe her streaming eyes.

  Susan leaned over the desk. Her voice was low, had remained low even in anger. “Yes, we pitied the little girl who had lost her parents so tragically, so brutally, so unfairly. Our hearts ached for the child who looked so lost and so brave. But I’ll tell you something, Katherine Louise Powell, the minute you stepped through the door of Templeton House you became ours. Ours. You were my child then, and you still are. And the only things any of my children owe me or their father is love and respect. Don’t you ever, ever throw my love in my face again.”

  She turned on her heel, sailed out of the room, and let the door click quietly behind her.

  Thomas huffed out a long breath. His wife’s tirades were few and far between, but they were brilliant. “Put your foot in it, didn’t you, Katie girl?”

  “Oh, Uncle Tommy.” She could see the world she’d tried to piece back together shattered in her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Start by coming over here.” When she’d crawled into his lap and buried her face in his chest, he rocked her. “Never knew such a bright child could be so stupid.”

  “I’m screwing everything up. I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know how to fix it. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Plenty, I’d say, but nothing that can’t be mended.”

  “She was so angry with me.”

  “Well, that can be mended too. You know one of your problems, Kate? You’ve focused on figures so long you think everything has to add up and be equal. It’s just not true with people and feelings.”

  “I never wanted to bring either of you into this. To hurt you, remind you—” She broke off, shook her head fiercely. “I always wanted to be the best for you. The best in school, in sports. Everything.”

  “And we admired your competitive spirit, but not when it eats a hole in your gut.”

  Exhausted from tears, she laid her head against his shoulder. It was cowardice, she thought, that had eaten that hole in her gut. Now she had to face it all, what had been, what was, and what would come.

  “I’m going to fix things, Uncle Tommy.”

  “Take my advice and give Susie a little time to cool off. She gets hard of hearing when her temper’s on boil.”

  “Okay.” Kate drew a deep breath and sat up. “Then I guess I’ll start with Bittle.”

  His face broke into a huge grin. “Now that’s my Kate.”

  In the parking lot of Bittle and Associates, Kate flipped down her rearview mirror to take one last critical look at her face. Margo had performed a little miracle. She’d dragged Kate upstairs and with cold compresses, eyedrops, lotions, and makeup had erased all traces of damage. Kate decided she no longer looked as though she had spent twenty minutes bawling like a scolded child. She looked efficient, composed, and determined.

  That was perfect.

  She told herself it didn’t bother her that conversations stopped when she sailed into the first-floor lobby. She didn’t mind the stares and murmurs, the strained smiles and curiosity-laced greetings. They were, in fact, an eye-opener.

  The few people who greeted her warmly, who detoured to stop her on her march to the second floor and offer support, showed her that she’d made more friends at Bittle than she’d realized.

  It took only one twist of the corridor to bring Kate face to face with the dragon. Newman raised a brow, gave Kate one brief, chilly stare. “Ms. Powell. May I help you?”

  “I’m on my way to see Marty.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Kate angled her chin. The fingers gripping the handle of her briefcase tightened. “I’ll take that up with Marty and his secretary. Why don’t you go tell Mr. Bittle Senior that the disgraced associate has invaded the hallowed halls?”

  Like a Swiss guard protecting royalty, Newman shifted her stance. “I see no reason for you to—”

  “Kate.” Roger poked his head out of his office, rolled his eyes behind Newman’s back, and beamed a smile. “Good to see you. I was hoping you’d make it by. Oh, Ms. Newman, I’ve got that report Mr. Bittle Senior needed.” Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat, Roger produced a sheaf of papers. “He was anxious to see it.”

  “Very well.” She shot Kate one last warning glance, then hurried down the hallway.

  “Thanks,” Kate murmured. “I think we might have come to blows.”

  “My money was on you.” He put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “This situation really sucks. I’d have called you, but I didn’t know what to say.” He dropped his hand, stuck it in his pocket. “How to act.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t have anything to say myself.” Until now. Now, she had plenty to say.

  “Listen.” He nudged her toward his office door but didn’t, Kate noted wryly, invite her inside. “I don’t know how much pressure your lawyer’s putting on.”

  “My lawyer?”

  “Templeton. The partners went into a powwow after he came in and stirred them up. Maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t know. You’ve got to handle it the way you think best. I can tell you that it looks like the partners are divided over whether or not to pursue and prosecute.”

  His brow creased and his voice, like a conspirator’s, was low and dramatic. “Amanda’s leading the charge, and Bittle Junior’s behind her. My take is that Calvin and Senior are on the fence, with Marty solidly against.”

  “It’s always good to know who’s in your corner and who’s going for your throat,” Kate murmured.

  “All this craziness over a lousy seventy-five K,” Roger said in disgust. “It’s not like you killed anyone.”

  Kate stepped back, studied his face. “Stealing is stealing, seventy-five cents or seventy-five K. And I didn’t take any money.”

  “I didn’t say you did. I didn’t mean it that way.” But there was doubt in his voice even as he took her hand to squeeze it. “I meant everybody overreacted. I get the impression that if you came up with the money, it would all go away.”

  Slowly, firmly, she drew her hand free. “Would it?”

  “I know it’s a lousy deal either way, but hell, Kate, the Templetons sneeze that much money away every day. It would offset the chance of you being charged, ruining your whole damn life. Sometimes you’ve got to choose between the rock and the hard place.”

  “And sometimes you’ve got to stick. Thanks for the advice.”

  “Kate.” He took a step after her, but she didn’t stop or look back. With a shrug, he went back into his office.

  Word was already out. Marty came to his door personally to meet her. He offered his hand, shook hers in a friendly, professional manner. “Kate, I’m glad you came by. Come inside.”

  “I should have come before,” she began as she followed him past his secretary, who was doing her best to look busy and disinterested.

  “I thought you would. Want anything? Coffee?”

  “No.” It was the same old Marty, she thought as she took her seat. From the wrinkled shirtsleeves to the affable smile. “I’m cutting back. I want to say first that I appreciate you seeing me like this.”


  “I know you didn’t skim any funds, Kate.”

  The quiet statement stopped the neat little opening speech she’d prepared. “If you know that, why . . . Well, why?”

  “I know it,” he said, “because I know you. The signatures, the forms indicated otherwise, but I’m sure as I’m sitting here that there’s another explanation.” He wagged a finger, signaling her that he wasn’t finished but was formulating his thoughts. The gesture nearly made her smile, it was so familiar. So Marty. “Certain people, ah, believe that I feel so strongly in this matter because I’m . . . attracted to you.”

  “Well, that’s just silly.”

  “Actually I am—was. Am.” Stopping himself, he rubbed his hands over his rapidly coloring face. “Kate, I love my wife. I would never. . . that is, other than the occasional thought, which I would never act on, I would never. . . Never,” he finished, leaving her quite literally speechless.

  “Um,” was all she could think of in response.

  “I’m not bringing that up to embarrass either one of us. Though it seems to have done just that.” He cleared his throat as he rose, and with nervous hands poured two mugs of coffee. As he handed her one, he remembered. “Sorry, you said you didn’t want any.”

  “I’ll take it.” What was a little afterburn in comparison with staggered shock? “Thanks.”

  “I only mentioned that because people who know me well have sort of noticed that I—Not that you’ve done anything to encourage, or that I would have done anything even if you had.”

  “I get the picture, Marty.” She allowed a breath to ease quietly through her lips, studied his wide, harmless, homely face. “I’m flattered.”

  “It muddies the waters, so to speak. I’m sorry for that. But I feel your record with this firm stands for itself. I’ll continue to do everything I can to prevent formal charges being filed and to get to the bottom of this situation.”