by Janet Dailey
“That would be an original idea,” Kitty muttered as he turned to leave.
Sebastian swung back. “Did you say something?”
“Not to you. Go.” She waved him out of the closet.
This time when he left, Kitty wasn’t convinced he was gone for good. And she was determined that he wouldn’t catch her again without a stitch of clothing on. Hurriedly, she discarded the towel and donned a set of nude lingerie from the drawer. After quickly riffling through the rack of dresses, she selected a simple but elegant sheath of white lace with a plunging keyhole back. She removed it from its padded hanger and wiggled into it.
Still there was no sign of Sebastian, no sound at all to indicate he was anywhere in the vicinity. Kitty wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. But she couldn’t help being suspicious of the silence.
Crossing to the built-in shoe caddy, Kitty considered the possibility that he might have actually left. A second later, she stiffened, panicked by the sudden thought that he was out there talking to Marcel. Heaven only knew the sort of things Sebastian might be telling him. Sometimes the man was a devil in disguise with an absolute knack for making the simplest thing sound outrageous.
She bolted out of the closet and stopped abruptly as Sebastian came out of the bathroom. “You’re still here.” It was almost a relief.
“As usual, you forgot to let the water out of the tub. While I was at it, I went ahead and retrieved the platter and the strawberries.” He showed her the plate of sodden strawberries and partially melted chocolate.
Recovering some of her former annoyance, Kitty retorted, “When did you appoint yourself to be my maid?”
“I could have left it, I suppose. But I don’t think it would have been a very pretty sight come morning. You need to tell Mr. Chocolate that the flavor combination of bathwater and his chocolate is a poor one.”
“Will you stop calling him that? His name is Marcel.”
“Whatever.” Sebastian shrugged off the correction. “Actually the strawberries didn’t fare too well in the bath either. Their flavor got pretty watered down. Here. Try one.” He picked up a limp berry that dripped a mixture of brown and pink juice.
Kitty was stunned he would offer her one, even as a joke. Well, the joke was about to be on him, she vowed, and took the berry from him and squished it against his mouth.
Laughter danced in his eyes as he scraped the remains of it off his face and onto the plate. “I’ll bet that felt good,” he observed.
“Actually I got a great deal of satisfaction out of it.”
“I thought you looked like you wanted to hit something,” he observed.
“I wouldn’t if you would just leave.”
“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” he asked, ignoring her broad hint.
“Please tell me you don’t like it. Then I’ll know I have chosen the right dress.”
“You look fabulous in it.”
She heard the hesitation in his voice. “But what?” She was furious with herself for seeking his opinion. She blamed it on her respect for his artistic eye.
“I was just thinking—don’t you think virginal white is a bit of a stretch?”
Glaring at him, Kitty demanded, “Give me that plate of strawberries so I can shove the whole thing in your face.”
When she made a grab for it, Sebastian held it out of reach. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Something tells me you’d break it over my head. What do you say we call a truce, and I’ll stop teasing you.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you go home?” Kitty suggested, then remembered, “You did get the razor.”
He set the plate on a dresser top and patted the pocket of his robe. “Right here.”
“Then leave, so I can get dressed in peace.”
“Let me fasten that hook in back first. You know you’ll never be able to reach it yourself.”
To her irritation, Sebastian was right. Against her better judgment, Kitty turned her back to him, giving him access to the hook.
“I could have had Marcel fasten it for me.” She could feel the light pressure of his blunt fingers against her skin as he drew the two ends together.
“I have no doubt he would have been delighted to do it.”
“As long as you understand that.”
“You need to wear your silver shawl with this, and those silver, strappy heels you have.”
“That’s probably a good choice. Silver is in this season,” she recalled thoughtfully. “And I will need something later this evening to ward off the chill. What about jewelry? How about the necklace of turquoise nuggets?”
“Everybody will be wearing turquoise. And it would be too chunky with the lace. Try that slender silver choker with the cabochon pendant of pink coral.”
Kitty didn’t need to try it. She could already visualize it in her mind and knew it would be perfect.
“Have you set a wedding date yet?”
“No. We planned to talk about it tonight.” But with Marcel’s mother being ill, she wasn’t sure it would be an appropriate subject. “It will be sometime soon, though. It’s what we both want.”
“I guess that means I’ll have to start looking for a new art dealer. It won’t be easy. You’ve spoiled me.”
“What are you talking about?” She twisted around, trying to see his face.
“Hold still. I almost have it fastened.”
“Then explain what you meant by that.” She squared around again. “Just because I’m getting married doesn’t mean I can’t still represent your paintings.”
“True, but it might be a little difficult trying to do that from Brussels.”
“Brussels?” She turned in shock, not caring that he had yet to fasten the top.
“That’s right. According to Mr. Chocolate, that’s where you’ll be living after you’re married. I suppose you could keep the gallery here in Santa Fe and find someone to manage it for you. Although it would probably be simpler just to sell it.”
“Sell the gallery? After I’ve worked so hard to build it to this point?”
Tilting his head, he scanned the bedroom’s ceiling, exposed beams spanning its breadth. “I don’t remember this room having an echo.”
“Will you be serious?” Kitty demanded impatiently.
“I am serious.” He brought his gaze back to her upturned face, a new gentleness darkening his eyes. “I take it you hadn’t thought about where you would be living?”
Truthfully, she hadn’t given any thought to it at all. The realization made her feel utterly foolish.
Once again, she turned her back to him, aware that those sharp eyes of his saw too much. “I more or less assumed we would be dividing our time between Brussels and Santa Fe. That’s what is usually done when two people have separate careers.”
“I suppose that could work.”
Reassured, Kitty relaxed a little. “Of course it could.”
“I guess that means you’ll be keeping the house, too.”
“Naturally. I’ll need somewhere to live when I am here.”
“Mr. Chocolate thought you would prefer to sell it and avoid the financial drain of maintaining two households. I told him that you didn’t have to look for a buyer. I’ll be happy to take it off your hands. We could even work out some sort of arrangement where you could stay here whenever you do come back.”
“That’s very generous of you, but I’ll keep it, thank you,” she stated firmly.
“It was just a thought.” The tone of his voice had an indifferent shrug to it, but Kitty wasn’t fooled.
“You’ve had a number of thoughts. It almost makes me think that you’re trying to put doubts in my mind about my engagement to Marcel.”
“Would I do that?”
“In a heartbeat,” she retorted.
“Honestly, I’m not trying to create doubts—”
“And just what would you call it?”
Sebastian finished fastening the hook and turned her around to fac
e him, both hands resting lightly on the rounded curves of her shoulders. “I’m only trying to make sure that you’ve thought things through a little before committing yourself to this engagement. You tend to be a bit impulsive where your heart’s concerned. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You have to admit that.”
“Oh, I do. And the first time was when I married you.” Standing this close to him, Kitty found it difficult not to remember how madly in love with him she had been.
“As your first husband, I think I have the right to vet any future replacement.”
Kitty bristled. “That is the most arrogant statement I have ever heard you make. And you have made quite a few.”
“Why is that arrogant?” Sebastian countered in a perfectly reasonable tone. “You have to know that I still care about you a lot, even if we aren’t married anymore. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Believe it or not, I hope Mr. Chocolate makes you very happy.”
“Well, I don’t,” she stated flatly.
A frown of disbelief swept across his expression. “You don’t want him to make you happy?”
“Of course I do,” Kitty replied in exasperation. “But I don’t believe that you do. And his name is Marcel.”
“My mistake.” He dipped his head in mild apology, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You’ve made a lot of them.” Kitty needed to get a dig in to negate the effects of that near smile.
“I have, but you were never one of them, kitten.”
“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”
“You used to like it.”
“Don’t remind me, please. That was long ago. And I was very young and very foolish.”
“And very beautiful. You still are.” With his fingertip, he traced the curve of her jaw.
The featherlight caress made her skin tingle. “Don’t start with the flattery, Sebastian. It doesn’t work anymore.” She did her best to ignore the rapid skittering of her pulse.
“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.”
“Then keep it to yourself.”
“I will, on one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked, instantly wary.
“You see, something tells me that I won’t be invited to the wedding—”
“It’s a wise little bird that’s whispering in your ear.”
Sebastian pretended not to hear that. “—So, this may be my only chance to kiss the bride.”
“Not on your life.” Kitty took an immediate step back.
“Why not?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“Because it’s just another one of your tricks. You know there’s a physical attraction that still exists between us. You want to use that to confuse me.”
“Do you think I could do that with just one little kiss?”
“I am not going to find out,” she stated.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid? You, Kitty Hamilton?” His look was one of mocking skepticism.
She shook her head. “That’s not going to work either. You aren’t going to dare me into it, so you might as well give up.”
“Now you’ve hurt my feelings.” But his smile mocked his words.
“You’ll get over it.” Determined to bring this meeting to an end, Kitty stated calmly, “Thank you for hooking my dress. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to finish getting ready. And you, as I recall, were on your way back to the studio to shave—with my razor.”
He started to sing, “ ‘You go your way. I’ll go mine.’ ”
“Don’t.” Kitty covered her ears. “Singing is not one of your talents. Stick to oils.”
“Kiss me and I’ll go.”
“Not a chance. With my luck, Marcel would walk in to see what’s taking me so long. It was awkward enough when he found you in the bathroom with me.”
“All right, I’ll go. But it’s under protest.”
“Under, over, I don’t care. Just go.”
The minute the door closed behind him, Kitty rushed over and locked it. The sense of relief didn’t last though. She had the uneasy feeling that Sebastian had given up a little too easily. She wouldn’t feel safe until she and Marcel were out of the house.
As much as she would have liked to tarry, Kitty put on her makeup and fixed her hair in nearly record time for her. Taking Sebastian’s advice, she wore the coral pendant and matching earrings, slipped on the strappy heels, and draped the silver crocheted shawl around her shoulders. After a satisfactory check of her reflection in the tall cheval mirror, she unlocked the door to the hall and walked swiftly to the living room.
But Marcel wasn’t there.
The feeling of alarm was instant. It only intensified when Kitty heard Sebastian’s voice coming from the kitchen. The high heels were the only thing that stopped her from sprinting there.
As she entered the kitchen, she saw Marcel comfortably seated at the table. Her glance ricocheted off him straight to Sebastian, leaning negligently against the tiled countertop, his hands wrapped around a toweled wine bottle, his thumbs gently easing out the cork. Marcel rose when she entered.
Her patience exhausted, Kitty snapped, “Haven’t you left yet?”
“Really, Kitty,” Sebastian said with a mocking tsk-tsk. “I credited you with having better powers of observation. Here I am, freshly shaved, wearing dry clothes, and you didn’t even notice.”
As he took one hand away from the wine bottle to gesture to his change in attire, the cork shot into the air with an explosive pop, caromed off a ceiling vega, sailed past Kitty’s head, and bounced onto the floor. Foam bubbled out of the bottle and spilled down its side. Hurriedly Sebastian swung around to pour the effervescent wine into the tulip-shaped champagne glasses on the counter.
“Don’t you know you are supposed to ease the cork out of the bottle?” Bending, Kitty retrieved the wayward cork, certain she would step on it if she didn’t pick it up.
“That’s what I was in the process of doing when I was so rudely interrupted,” Sebastian countered smoothly.
“What are you doing back here anyway?” Kitty demanded, unable to rein in her irritation with him.
“I was just telling”—he paused, his eyes twinkling devilishly when she shot him a warning look—“your fiancé that I thought the occasion of your engagement deserved a celebratory toast. So I brought over a bottle of champagne.”
Kitty’s suspicion warred with her curiosity, but curiosity won. “Why do you have champagne on hand? I thought you didn’t like it.”
“Ever since your last divorce, I’ve always kept a bottle in the fridge. That way, the next time you show up at my door in the wee hours of the morning, wanting to drown your troubles in some bubbly, I won’t have to go all over God’s creation trying to beg, borrow, or steal one.” After filling the last glass, Sebastian set down the bottle, then turned with a sudden look of regret. “Sorry. That was bad taste to mention your last divorce, wasn’t it?”
Marcel turned to her in confusion. “Your last divorce? What does he mean by this?”
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just being Sebastian.” She directed a careless smile at Marcel and glared at Sebastian when she walked over to pick up two of the champagne glasses. “A name that sounds distinctly like another one,” she murmured for Sebastian’s ears only.
He merely smiled and picked up the remaining glass. “A toast,” he began, and waited until Marcel had a drink in his hand, “to the woman who can still take my breath away, and to her future husband. Happiness always.” His gaze was warm on her as he raised his glass to his lips.
Kitty did the same, a little of her own breath stolen by the unexpectedly sincere compliment. But she was careful to direct her tremulous smile at Marcel.
“I must agree with you, Mr. Cole.” Marcel flicked him a glance, then smiled lovingly at her. “She is quite beautiful. And never more so than tonight.”
Marcel lifted her hand and kissed the back of her fingers, a gesture that came very naturally to h
im. She didn’t have to glance at Sebastian to know that he was observing it all with a droll little smirk.
There was no sign of it, however, when he asked, “Have you already made dinner reservations for this evening?”
“Of course.” Truthfully it was an assumption on Kitty’s part.
“Somewhere special, I hope.” Sebastian took another sip of his champagne.
“Very special,” Marcel assured him. “I have arranged for us to dine at Antoine’s.”
Sebastian cocked a blond eyebrow at Kitty. “Is that wise? First me, then Roger, then Mark. With a track record like that, are you sure you want to go there with him?”
If looks could kill, Kitty would have been staring at Sebastian’s gravestone instead of him. “Of course I’m sure,” she stated, and fervently hoped that Marcel hadn’t followed any of that.
“Antoine’s, it is your favorite place, is it not?” Marcel darted confused glances to first one, then the other.
“It’s very definitely her favorite,” Sebastian replied before she could answer.
“And why shouldn’t it be?” She slipped an arm around the crook of Marcel’s and snuggled a little closer to him. “The food there is superb.”
“You have dined there before with these other men he has mentioned?” Marcel was clearly troubled by that. “They were special to you?”
“I think it’s safe to say that,” Sebastian inserted. “She married all of us. Not at the same time of course,” he added for clarification, then feigned surprise. “Didn’t Kitty mention that she’s been married three times before?”
“She tells me she is divorced, but I did not know it was from three different men,” Marcel replied stiffly, a coolness in the look he gave her.
Kitty struggled to defend the omission. “I thought you knew. It’s common knowledge to nearly everyone in Santa Fe.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” Sebastian said, coming to her rescue. “From the sounds of it, you two have had such a whirlwind courtship you haven’t had a lot of time to exchange stories about any skeletons in the closet, or—in Kitty’s case—ex-husbands. I guess that’s the purpose of engagements. Kitty and I never had one. Two days after I proposed, we were married. With the logistics of each of you having careers in different countries, I imagine you’re planning a long engagement. Have you decided where the wedding will be? Here or in Brussels?”