by Nora Roberts
Katch’s pungent oath cut her off. Megan gave her full attention back to him. Was this furious, disapproving man the same one who had amiably prepared trout in her kitchen a short time ago?
“I don’t understand why you’re so mad.” Annoyed with herself for nervously pleating the material of the smock, Megan tossed it down.
“Waste,” he said tersely, placing the limestone back on the shelf. “Waste infuriates me.” He came to her, taking her deliberately by the shoulders. “Why haven’t you done anything with your work?” His eyes were direct on hers, demanding answers, not evasions.
“It’s not as simple as that,” she began. “I have responsibilities.”
“Your responsibilities are to yourself, to your talent.”
“You make it sound as though I’ve done something wrong.” Confused, Megan searched his face. “I’ve done what I know how to do. I don’t understand why you’re angry. There are things, like time and money, to be considered,” she went on. “A business to run. And reality to face.” Megan shook her head. “I can hardly cart my work to a Charleston art gallery and demand a showing.”
“That would make more sense than cloistering it up here.” He released her abruptly, then paced again.
He was, Megan discovered, much more volatile than her first impression had allowed. She glanced at the clay wrapped in the damp towel. Her fingertips itched to work while fresh impressions were streaming through her brain.
“When’s the last time you’ve been to New York?” Katch demanded, facing her again. “Chicago, L.A.?”
“We can’t all be globetrotters,” she told him. “Some are born to other things.”
He picked up the sand-castle girl again, then strode over to the limestone couple. “I want these two,” he stated. “Will you sell them to me?”
They were two of her favorites, though totally opposite in tone. “Yes, I suppose. If you want them.”
“I’ll give you five hundred.” Megan’s eyes widened. “Apiece.”
“Oh, no, they’re not worth—”
“They’re worth a lot more, I imagine.” Katch lifted the limestone. “Have you got a box I can carry them in?”
“Yes, but, Katch.” Megan paused and pushed the bangs from her eyes. “A thousand dollars?”
He set down both pieces and came back to her. He was still angry; she could feel it vibrating from him. “Do you think it’s safer to underestimate yourself than to face up to your own worth?”
Megan started to make a furious denial, then stopped. Uncertain, she made a helpless gesture with her hands. Katch turned away again to search for a box himself. She watched him as he wrapped the sculptures in old newspapers. The frown was still on his face, the temper in his eyes.
“I’ll bring you a check,” he stated, and was gone without another word.
Chapter Five
There was a long, high-pitched scream. The roller coaster grumbled along the track as it whipped around another curve and tilted its passengers. Lights along the midway were twinkling, and there was noise. Such noise. There was the whirl and whine of machinery, the electronic buzz and beeps from video games, the pop of arcade rifles and the call of concessionaires.
Tinny music floated all over, but for the most part, there was the sound of people. They were laughing, calling, talking, shouting. There were smells: popcorn, peanuts, grilled hot dogs, machine oil.
Megan loaded another clip into the scaled-down rifle and handed it to a would-be Wyatt Earp. “Rabbits are five points, ducks ten, deer twenty-five and the bears fifty.”
The sixteen-year-old sharpshooter aimed and managed to bag a duck and a rabbit. He chose a rubber snake as his prize, to the ensuing screams and disgust of his girl.
Shaking her head, Megan watched them walk away. The boy slipped his arm around the girl’s shoulders, then pursued the romance by dangling the snake in front of her face. He earned a quick jab in the ribs.
The crowd was thin tonight, but that was to be expected in the off-season. Particularly, Megan knew, when there were so many other parks with more rides, live entertainment and a more sophisticated selection of video games. She didn’t mind the slack. Megan was preoccupied, as she had been since the evening Katch had seen her studio. In three days, she hadn’t heard a word from him. At first, she had wanted badly to see him, to talk about the things he’d said to her. He had made her think, made her consider a part of herself she had ignored or submerged most of her life.
Her desire to speak with Katch had faded as the days had passed, however. After all, what right did he have to criticize her lifestyle? What right did he have to make her feel as if she’d committed a crime? He’d accused, tried and condemned her in the space of minutes. Then, he’d disappeared.
Three days, Megan mused, handing another hopeful deadeye a rifle. Three days without a word. And she’d watched for him—much to her self-disgust. She’d waited for him. As the days had passed, Megan had taken refuge in anger. Not only had he criticized and scolded her, she remembered, but he’d walked out with two of her favorite sculptures. A thousand dollars my foot, she mused, frowning fiercely as she slid a fresh clip into an empty rifle. Just talk, that’s all. Talk. He does that very well. It was probably all a line, owning that restaurant. But why? Men like that don’t need logical reasons, she decided. It’s all ego.
“Men,” she muttered as she handed a rifle to a new customer.
“I know what you mean, honey.” The plump blond woman took the rifle from Megan with a wink.
Megan pushed her bangs back and frowned deeper. “Who needs them?” she demanded.
The woman shouldered the rifle. “We do, honey. That’s the problem.”
Megan let out a long sigh as the woman earned 125 points. “Nice shooting,” she congratulated. “Your choice on the second row.”
“Let me have the hippo, sweetie. It looks a little like my second husband.”
Laughing, Megan plucked it from the shelf and handed it over. “Here you go.” With another wink, the woman tucked the hippo under her arm and waddled off.
Megan settled back while two kids tried their luck. The exchange had been typical of the informality enjoyed by people in amusement parks. She smiled, feeling less grim, if not entirely mollified by the woman’s remarks. But she doesn’t know Katch, Megan reflected, again exchanging a rifle for a quarter. And neither, she reminded herself, do I.
Automatically, Megan made change when a dollar bill was placed on the counter. “Ten shots for a quarter,” she began the spiel. “Rabbits are five, ducks ten …” Megan pushed three quarters back as she reached for a rifle. The moment the fingers pushed the change back to her, she recognized them.
“I’ll take a dollar’s worth,” Katch told her as she looked up in surprise. He grinned, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to her lips. “For luck,” he claimed when she jerked away.
Before Megan had pocketed the quarters, Katch had bull’s-eyed every one of the bears.
“Wow!” The two boys standing next to Katch were suitably impressed. “Hey, mister, can you do it again?” one asked.
“Maybe.” Katch turned to Megan. “Let’s have a reload.” Without speaking, she handed him the rifle.
“I like the perfume you’re wearing,” he commented as he sighed. “What is it?”
“Gun oil.”
He laughed, then blasted the hapless bears one by one. The two boys gave simultaneous yelps of appreciation. A crowd began to gather.
“Hey, Megan.” She glanced up to see the Bailey twins leaning over the counter. Both pairs of eyes drifted meaningfully to Katch. “Isn’t he the …”
“Yes,” Megan said shortly, not wanting to explain.
“Delicious,” Teri decided quietly, giving Katch a flirtatious smile when he straightened.
“Mmm-hmm,” Jeri agreed with a twin smile.
Katch gave them a long, appreciative look.
“Here.” Megan shoved the rifle at him. “This is your last quarter.”
Katch accepted the rifle. “Thanks.” He hefted it again. “Going to wish me luck?”
Megan met his eyes levelly. “Why not?”
“Meg, I’m crazy about you.”
She dealt with the surge his careless words brought her as he picked off his fourth set of bears. Bystanders broke into raucous applause. Katch set the rifle on the counter, then gave his full attention to Meg.
“What’d I win?”
“Anything you want.”
His grin was a flash, and his eyes never left her face. She blushed instantly, hating herself. Deliberately, she stepped to the side and gestured toward the prizes.
“I’ll take Henry,” he told her. When she gave him a puzzled look, he pointed. “The elephant.” Glancing up, Megan spotted the three-foot lavender elephant. She lifted it down from its perch. Even as she set it on the counter for him, Katch took her hands. “And you.”
She made her voice prim. “Only the items on display are eligible prizes.”
“I love it when you talk that way,” he commented.
“Stop it!” she hissed, flushing as she heard the Bailey twins giggle.
“We had a bet, remember?” Katch smiled at her. “It’s Friday night.”
Megan tried to tug her hands away, but his fingers interlocked with hers. “Who says I lost the bet?” she demanded. The crowd was still milling around the stand so she spoke in an undertone, but Katch didn’t bother.
“Come on, Meg, I won fair and square. You’re not going to welch, are you?”
“Shh!” She glanced behind him at the curious crowd. “I never welch,” she whispered furiously. “And even if I did lose, which I never said I did, I can’t leave the stand. I’m sure you can find somebody else to keep you company.”
“I want you.”
She struggled to keep her eyes steady on his. “Well, I can’t leave. Someone has to run the booth.”
“Megan.” One of the part-timers slipped under the counter. “Pop sent me to relieve you.” He smiled innocently when she gave him a disgusted look.
“Perfect timing,” she mumbled, then stripped off the change apron and stuffed it in his hands. “Thanks a lot.”
“Sure, Megan.”
“Hey, keep this back there for me, will you?” Katch dumped the elephant into his arms and captured Megan’s hands again as she ducked under the counter. As she straightened, he tugged, tumbling her into his arms.
The kiss was long and demanding. When Katch drew her away, her arms were around his neck. She left them there, staring up into his face with eyes newly aware and darkened.
“I’ve wanted to do that for three days,” he murmured, and rubbed her nose lightly with his.
“Why didn’t you?”
He lifted a brow at that, then grinned when her blush betrayed the impetuousness of her words.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Megan began, dropping her arms and trying to wriggle away.
“Yes you did,” he countered. Katch released her but dropped a friendly arm over her shoulder. “It was nice, don’t spoil it.” He took a sweeping glance of the park. “How about a tour?”
“I don’t know why you want one. We’re not selling.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, as maddeningly confident as ever. “But in any case, I’m interested. Do you know why people come here? To a place like this?” He gestured with his free arm to encompass the park.
“To be entertained,” Megan told him as she followed the movement of his arm.
“You left out two of the most important reasons,” he added. “To fantasize and to show off.”
They stopped to watch a middle-aged man strip out of his jacket and attempt to ring the bell. The hammer came down with a loud thump, but the ball rose only halfway up the pole. He rubbed his hands together and prepared to try again.
“Yes, you’re right.” Megan tossed her hair back with a move of her head, then smiled at Katch. “You ought to know.”
He tilted his head and shot her a grin. “Want me to ring the bell?”
“Muscles don’t impress me,” she said firmly.
“No?” He guided her away with his arm still around her. “What does?”
“Poetry,” Megan decided all at once.
“Hmm.” Katch rubbed his chin and avoided a trio of teenagers. “How about a limerick? I know some great limericks.”
“I bet you do.” Megan shook her head. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Coward.”
“Oh? Let’s ride the roller coaster, then we’ll see who’s a coward.”
“You’re on.” Taking her hand, he set off in a sprint. He stopped at the ticket booth, and gratefully she caught her breath.
I might as well face it, she reflected as she studied his face. I enjoy him. There isn’t any use in pretending I don’t.
“What are you thinking?” Katch demanded as he paid for their ride.
“That I could learn to like you—in three or four years. For short periods of time,” she added, still smiling.
Katch took both her hands and kissed them, surprising Megan with the shock that raced up her arms. “Flatterer,” he murmured, and his eyes laughed at her over their joined hands.
Distressed by the power she felt rushing through her system, Megan tried to tug her hands from his. It was imperative, for reasons only half-formed in her brain, that she keep their relationship casual.
“You have to hold my hand.” Katch jerked his head toward the roller coaster. “I’m afraid of heights.”
Megan laughed. She let herself forget the tempestuous instant and the hint of danger. She kept her hand in his.
Katch wasn’t satisfied with only the roller coaster. He pulled Megan to ride after ride. They were scrambled on the Mind Maze, spooked in the Haunted Castle and spun lazily on the Ferris wheel.
From the top of the wheel, they watched the colored lights of the park, and the sea stretching out to the right. The wind tossed her hair into her face. Katch took it in his hand as they rose toward the top again. When he kissed her, it felt natural and right … a shared thing, a moment which belonged only to them. The noise and people below were of another world. Theirs was only the gentle movement of the wheel and the dance of the breeze. And the touch of mouth on mouth. There was no demand, only an offering of pleasure.
Megan relaxed against him, finding her head fit naturally in the curve of his shoulder. Held close beside him, she watched the world revolve. Above, the stars were scattered and few. A waning moon shifted in and out of the clouds. The air was cool with a hint of the sea. She sighed, utterly content.
“When’s the last time you did this?”
“Did what?” Megan tilted her head to look at him. Their faces were close, but she felt no danger now, only satisfaction.
“Enjoyed this park.” Katch had caught the confusion on her face. “Just enjoyed it, Megan, for the fun.”
“I …” The Ferris wheel slowed, then stopped. The carts rocked gently as old passengers were exchanged for new. She remembered times when she had been very young. When had they stopped? “I don’t know.” Megan rose when the attendant lifted the safety bar.
This time, as she walked with Katch, she looked around thoughtfully. She saw several people she knew; locals out for an evening’s entertainment mixed with tourists taking a preseason vacation.
“You need to do this more often,” Katch commented, steering her toward the east end of the park. “Laugh,” he continued as she turned her head to him. “Unbend, relax those restrictions you put on yourself.”
Megan’s spine stiffened. “For somebody who barely knows me, you seem remarkably certain of what’s good for me.”
“It isn’t difficult.” He stopped at a concession wagon and ordered two ice-cream cones. “You haven’t any mysteries, Meg.”
“Thank you very much.”
With a laugh, Katch handed her a cone. “Don’t get huffy, I meant that as a compliment.”
“I suppose you’ve known a
lot of sophisticated women.”
Katch smiled, then his arm came around her as they began to walk again. “There’s one, her name’s Jessica. She’s one of the most beautiful women I know.”
“Really?” Megan licked at the soft swirl of vanilla.
“That blond, classical look. You know, fair skin, finely chiseled features, blue eyes. Terrific blue eyes.”
“How interesting.”
“Oh, she’s all of that,” he continued. “And more: intelligent, a sense of humor.”
“You sound very fond of her.” Megan gave the ice cream her undivided attention.
“A bit more than that actually. Jessica and I lived together for a number of years.” He dropped the bomb matter-of-factly. “She’s married now and has a couple of kids, but we still manage to see each other now and again. Maybe she can make it down for a few days, then you can meet her.”
“Oh, really!” Megan stopped, incensed. “Flaunt your relationship somewhere else. If you think I want to meet your—your …”
“Sister,” Katch supplied, then crunched into his cone. “You’d like her. Your ice cream’s dripping, Meg.”
They walked to the entrance gates of the park.
“It’s a very nice park,” Katch murmured. “Small but well set up. No bored-faced attendants.” He reached absently in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
“I forgot to give you your check.”
Megan stuffed it into her pocket without even glancing at it. Her eyes were on Katch’s face. She was all too aware of the direction his thoughts had taken. “My grandfather’s devoted his life to this park,” she reminded him.
“So have you,” Katch said.
“Why do you want to buy it?” she asked. “To make money?”
Katch was silent for a long moment. By mutual consent, they cut across the boardwalk and moved down the sloping sand toward the water. “Is that such a bad reason, Megan? Do you object to making money?”
“No, of course not. That would be ridiculous.”
“I wondered if that was why you haven’t done anything with your sculpting.”
“No. I do what I’m capable of doing, and what I have time for. There are priorities.”