by Diana Palmer
“Blake wants one thing from a woman,” he said. “And he can't have it from you.”
She smiled wistfully. “He wouldn't take it even if I offered,” she said quietly, darting a look at him.
“Not deliberately,” he agreed. “But you could make him forget every scruple he has, little one. Or didn't you know that men are particularly vulnerable to women they want?”
She sighed softly. “And Blake being Blake, he'd marry me, wouldn't he? Even though he hated the idea of it, and me, he'd do the honorable thing.”
“That's exactly what I mean.” He held her hand gently. “Nothing would make me happier than to see you happily married to my brother. But I know Blake too well, and so do you. He's too much a cynic to change overnight.”
“You don't think he could…care for a woman?” she asked haltingly.
He shrugged. “Blake is a private man. I've lived with him all my life, but there are depths to him that I've never been allowed to explore. Perhaps he's capable of love. But I think in a way he's afraid of it. He's afraid of being vulnerable.” He glanced at her with a dry smile. “He may marry eventually to provide Greyoaks with an heir. He may even fall in love. I don't know.”
“You said he was possessive of me,” she reminded him.
“Naturally, he's taken care of you half your life,” he said. “But what he really feels, no one knows.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded, turning away to stare at the pavement. “You're right, of course.” She forced a smile to her frozen face. “Let's go get an ice-cream cone.”
He caught her arm gently and kept her from getting up. “I'm sorry,” he said suddenly. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“What makes you think you have?” she asked with a smile that was too bright.
“You're in love with him.”
She felt her face go white. She was only just beginning to admit that to herself. But, confronted with the accusation, she found she couldn't deny it. Her mouth tried to form words, but her tongue wouldn't cooperate.
He read the confusion in her face and stood up. “Ice cream. Right. What flavor would you like, Kathy…vanilla or strawberry?”
***
It was only two days until Blake planned to fly them to St. Martin. The pace at the office was hectic. Kathryn took dictation until her fingers felt numb, and Blake's temper, always formidable, seemed to be on a permanent hair trigger.
“You know damned well I don't use my middle initial in a signature,” he growled at her, slamming the letters she'd just typed down on his desk violently. “Do them over!”
“If you don't like the way I do things,” she complained tightly, “why don't you let Vivian come in and work for you?”
“She'd have been in tears by now,” he admitted, with a faintly amused smile.
She straightened in the chair beside his desk, crossing her slender legs impatiently in the gray skirt that matched her silk blouse. “Afraid you might tarnish your shining armor?” she asked.
He studied her through a veil of smoke from his cigarette, his dark eyes thoughtful. “There isn't much danger of that happening with you, is there, Kate?” he asked quietly. “You know just about everything there is to know about me, my faults, my habits.”
“Do I really know you at all, Blake?” she wondered absently. “Sometimes you seem very much a stranger.”
He lifted his cigarette to his mouth. “Like that day in the gazebo, Kate?” he asked softly, watching the burst of color that shot into her face.
Her eyes darted back to her pad, and her heart ran away. “I don't know what you want from me anymore, Blake.”
He got up and moved in front of her, leaning down to catch her chin in his big hand and lift her face up to his piercing gaze. “Maybe that works both ways,” he said gruffly. “You're very young, Kathryn Mary.”
“Oh, yes, compared to you, I'm a mere child,” she returned.
“Little spitting kitten,” he chided. Something wild and dangerous smoldered in his eyes. “Would you hiss and claw if I made love to you, Kathryn, or would you purr?”
She caught her breath sharply. “Neither!”
His eyes glittered down at her. “You don't think I could teach you to purr, Kate? Your mouth was wild under mine that day. I can still taste it, even now.”
“I…didn't know what I was doing,” she whispered weakly, embarrassed at the memory of her abandoned response.
“Neither did I, really,” he murmured absently, watching her mouth with a disturbingly intense scrutiny. “I touched you and every sane thought went out of my head. All I wanted to do was make love to you until I stopped aching.”
She caught her breath, meeting his eyes squarely. It was like the impact of lightning striking. It had been that way for her, too, but all he was admitting to was a purely physical attraction—just as Phillip had warned her. He'd lost his head out of desire, not love.
“Doesn't Vivian make you ache?” she asked in a tight voice, hurting with the certainty that what she felt for him was hopeless.
He searched her eyes quietly. “Not that way.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap. “You can always find a woman, Blake,” she choked.
He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of her against the chair arms, the curling smoke from his cigarette pungent in her nostrils.
“Not one like you, honey,” he growled. “Or are you going to try to convince me that you've ever let another man touch you the way I did?”
She felt the heat creeping up from her throat, and her eyes riveted themselves to his tie, remembering the feel of his hands on her bare back, slightly rough, expertly caressing.
“You were afraid, because it was the first time. But if I'd insisted on making love to you, you wouldn't have stopped me. We both know that.”
She felt the embarrassment, like a living thing, and she hated him for what he could do to her with words. He made her vulnerable. She'd never been vulnerable to any man before, it was new and disconcerting, and to cover her fear she sought refuge in temper.
“You flatter yourself, don't you?” she asked crisply, raising her sparkling eyes to his. “Maybe I was experimenting, Blake, did you think about that?” She watched the darkness grow in his eyes. “What makes you think I don't feel exactly that way with other men?”
“What other men?” he shot at her. “Phillip?”
She tore her eyes away and stared down at her pad blankly. There was suppressed fury in his voice, and she knew better than to deliberately goad him. If he touched her, she'd go crazy. It was her basic reaction to that vibrant masculinity that rippled in every hard muscle of his body. She was too vulnerable now, and the only way to keep him from seeing it was to make sure she kept him at arm's length.
“We'd better get this work out of the way,” he said coolly, and sat down behind his desk again, idly crushing out his cigarette. “How about that shipment of poly-cotton we never received from our Georgia mill?” he asked quietly. “Check with the office there and find out if it was shipped. The spreaders will need it for the next cut.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied in her best businesslike tone. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly, watching her. “Send a dozen red roses to Vivian at the house.”
That hit her like a ton of bricks, but she didn't even flinch. Methodically, she made a note on her pad and nodded. “One dozen. I'll call the florist right away. How would you like the card to read?”
He was still eyeing her. “Have them put, ‘Thanks for last night’ and sign it ‘Blake.’ Got that?”
“Got it,” she replied. Her voice sounded vaguely strangled, but she kept the expression out of her face. “Anything else?”
He swiveled his chair around to stare out the window. “No.”
She went out and closed the door quietly behind her. Tears were welling in her eyes by the time she got back to her own desk.
Chapter Eight
“Just imagine, a week in St. Martin,”
Maude sighed, studying the list of chores she'd outlined for Mrs. Johnson and the daily maids while the family was away. “How sweet of Blake to take us all with him, especially when he's getting along so well with Vivian!”
“Oh, it's delightful,” Kathryn agreed dully.
“They've hardly been apart at all,” she sighed. “And they do make such a striking pair, Blake so dark and Vivian so fair.…I think he's really serious this time.” She clasped her slender hands together and beamed. “I'd love to plan a spring wedding. We could decorate the house with orchids…”
“Excuse me, Maude, but I really have to start getting my things together,” Kathryn said brightly, rising from the sofa. “You don't mind?”
Maude was deep in her plans. “No, dear, go right ahead,” she mumbled absently.
Kathryn went up the winding staircase, feeling dead inside. As she passed by Vivian's room, her eye was caught by the vase full of red roses sitting on the dresser in full view of the open door. Vivian had done that deliberately, no doubt, and Kathryn felt as if she'd been shot. At least Blake hadn't suspected how she felt about him. That would have been unbearable, especially since he was taking such a sudden and intense interest in the seductive blonde. They were going nightclubbing together, later that evening, and they'd been locked up in Blake's study ever since dinner. As had happened so many times since her return to Greyoaks, Kathryn sought out Phillip for companionship. And that seemed to catch Blake's attention in the most violent way.
The following morning he found Phillip sitting on her desk and he seemed to erupt.
“Don't you have anything to do, Phillip?” he growled at his younger brother.
“Why, yes, I do,” Phillip replied.
“Then why the hell don't you go and do it?” came the terse, irritable question.
Phillip stood erect, his hands in his pockets, and studied the bigger, older man quietly, frowning. “I was asking Kate to take in a movie with me tonight,” he said. “Any objections?”
Blake's jaw tautened. “Make your dates at home. Not on my time.”
“I do have an interest in the corporation,” Phillip reminded him. “Just like all the other stockholders.”
“Try acting like it,” Blake said coldly. His eyes darted to Kathryn. “Bring your pad. I've got some letters to dictate.” He went back into his office and roughly closed the door.
Phillip stared after him, not taking offense at all. He knew Blake too well. A slow smile flared on his lips. “Now, in a lesser man, I'd swear that was jealousy,” he teased, eyeing Kathryn.
She stood up with a sigh, clutching her steno pad to her chest. “But not in a man with someone like Vivian practically engaged to him,” she reminded him. “We'd better get to work before he gives us a pink slip.”
He shrugged. “With the temper he's been in lately, I'm not sure it wouldn't be a relief.”
“Speaking of relief,” she said, lowering her voice, “you promised to help me look for an apartment.”
“Not until we get back from St. Martin,” he said stubbornly. “And only then if Blake's temper improves. I don't have a suicidal bone in my body, Kate, and I'm not taking on Blake for you.”
She sighed. “You won't have to,” she said bitterly. “He'll be glad to see me go now, and you know it.”
He studied her. “Will he, really?” he murmured.
“Kathryn!” Blake thundered over the intercom.
She flinched and hurried into his office.
He was sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, and he glared at her when she walked in.
“From now on, don't encourage Phillip to waste time talking to you during working hours,” he said without preamble, his eyes blazing. “I don't pay either of you to socialize.”
She stared at him belligerently. “Do I have to have your permission to say good morning to him now?” she wanted to know.
“In this building, yes,” he replied curtly. His dark eyes held hers fiercely. “You practically live in each other's pockets already. I shouldn't think it would work a hardship for you to spend just eight hours away from him!”
He whipped his chair forward and grabbed up a letter, his leonine face as hard as the oak desk under his powerful hands. She remembered without wanting to the warmth and tenderness of those hard fingers on her bare skin…
“Are you ready?” he asked curtly.
She sat down quickly, positioning her pad on her lap. “Any time you are,” she said in her most professional tone.
***
For the rest of the day, Kathryn and Blake maintained a cool politeness between them that raised eyebrows among the staff. There had been numerous arguments, ever since Kathryn's appointment as his secretary, but this was different. Now they were avoiding each other completely. They didn't argue, because there was no contact between them.
“I say, have you and Blake had a falling out?” Vivian asked Kathryn that evening as she waited for Blake to change for their dinner date. “You've hardly spoken to each other for the past couple of days.”
Kathryn, curled up on the sofa in her ivory-colored jumpsuit with a book, glanced at the older woman coolly. The blue Qiana dress the actress was wearing left nothing to the imagination, and even Kathryn had to admit it flattered her figure, her lovely face, and her elegantly coiffured blond hair. Just Blake's style, she thought bitterly.
“Not at all,” Kathryn replied finally. “Blake and I were never close,” she lied, remembering happier times when there was never a cross word between them, and Blake's eyes were tender.
“Oh, really?” Vivian probed. She smiled a little haughtily, primping at a mirror on the wall between two elegant bronze sconces. “I do hope you and I will get on together. Living in the same house, you know…” She let her voice trail away insinuatingly.
“Have you set a date?” Kathryn asked with careful unconcern.
“Not quite,” the blonde replied. “But it won't be long.”
“I'm delighted for both of you,” she murmured as she stared blankly at her book.
“Are you ready, darling?” Vivian gushed as Blake came into the room. “I'm simply famished!”
“Let's go, then,” he replied with a sensuous note in his voice that Kathryn didn't miss. But she didn't raise her eyes from the book, didn't look at him or speak to him. She felt dead, frozen. It wasn't until the door slammed behind them that she was able to relax. How fortunate, she thought, that Dick Leeds and Maude had also gone out for the night, and that she'd convinced Phillip to go to the movies alone. There was no one to watch her cry. Now, for certain, she'd have to leave Greyoaks. There was no way she could live in it with Vivian.
***
The following day dawned bright and sunny, perfect for their flight to St. Martin. Kathryn and Phillip were bringing up the rear. Vivian, in a stunning white lace pantsuit, was clinging to Blake's arm like ivy while Dick Leeds and Maude followed along deep in conversation. Kathryn was wearing a simple peasant dress in green and brown patterns that brought out the deep green of her eyes and set off her long, waving dark hair. She was dressed for comfort, not for style, and she knew she was no competition for the blonde. She wasn't trying to be. She'd lost Blake, even though she'd never really had a chance to win him. There were too many years between them.
“You're tearing at my heart,” Phillip said quietly, watching her as she watched Blake and Vivian.
She lifted her sad eyes to his. “Why?”
“I've never seen a woman love a man the way you love Blake,” he replied quietly, with none of his usual gaiety.
She lifted her shoulders in a careless gesture. “I'll get over it,” she murmured. “It…it's just going to take a little time, that's all. I'll land on my feet, Phil.”
He caught her hand and held it gently as they walked toward the small jet owned by the corporation. “I honestly thought it was infatuation, at first,” he admitted gently. “But I'm beginning to realize just how wrong I was. You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you? Even
stand aside and watch him marry another woman, as long as he was happy.”
Her long eyelashes curled down onto her cheeks. “Isn't that what love is all about?” she asked in a soft whisper. “I want him to be happy.” Her eyes closed briefly. “I want everything for him.”
He squeezed her hand. “Stiff upper lip, darling,” he said under his breath. “Don't let him see you suffer.”
She forced a laugh through her tight throat. “Oh, of course not,” she said brightly. “We revolutionaries are very tough, you know.”
“That's my girl. But why are you giving up the battle so soon?”
“Who said I was giving up?” she asked, glancing at him. “I've got the job I wanted, but not the apartment. Just wait until we come back!”
He chuckled. “That's my girl. I knew you could work it out.”
“Of course we can,” she said with a gleeful smile.
“We?” he asked, apprehensive.
“You know lots of people in real estate,” she reminded him. “I'm sure you can find me something I can afford. In a good neighborhood.”
“Now, just a minute, Kathy…”
But she was already boarding the plane.
***
The executive jet was roomy and comfortable, and as long as Kathryn didn't look out the window of the pressurized cabin, she was fine. She'd never gotten over the bouts with airsickness that were a carryover from her childhood, despite Blake's expert handling of the airplane.
Vivian was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, for which Kathryn was eternally grateful. She couldn't have borne her haughty company, her gloating smile.
“You look very pale, dear,” Maude said sympathetically, reaching out to pat Kathryn's cold hand. “How about an airsick pill?”
“I've already had two,” came the subdued reply. “All they do is make me dizzy.”
“A spot of brandy might help,” Dick Leeds suggested gently, as he appeared briefly beside her.
She shook her head, feeling even more nauseated. “I'll be all right,” she assured them.
“Lie down for a while,” Phillip said as the older passengers moved away. “Take off your shoes and just sleep,” he coaxed, helping her stretch out in one of the plush, comfortable seats. “We'll be there before you know it.”