Carter cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, this has been the best place I've ever worked – or at least it was."
"And it will be again," Katherine assured him. "For me, be patient, and I'll try to keep Elliott out of your way."
"I guess so. But for this much aggravation, I think I deserve more money."
Katherine frowned. "We just gave you a hefty raise."
"Call it battle pay, Katherine."
"You planning on buying a villa on the Riviera?" she asked with a small laugh.
"Does it matter?" he countered, a note of challenge in his voice.
She sighed. "I guess not." Then she hesitated. "But don't tell Elliott about the raise, okay?"
Carter shrugged. "It's your business."
"You can say that again," she muttered.
* * *
Katherine wasn't sure if she should take Elliott to a doctor or just kill him and put him out of his misery. In the past twenty-four hours he'd managed to alienate every single employee. It was as though he was deliberately trying to irritate them.
She had talked herself hoarse, explaining his continuing trauma from the accident, but patience was wearing thin. Alice had confided that if she weren't financially strapped from taking care of her ailing mother, she would have quit on the spot. It had taken enormous persuasion, but everyone had reluctantly agreed to cut Elliott some slack. None of them understood the drastic changes in him.
But neither did she.
Looking at her front door in trepidation, she took a deep breath and eased it open. She stepped inside and stopped. The sound of laughter reached her ears, a deep masculine chuckle and Dustin's childish giggles. But that couldn't be. She purposely hadn't picked up Dustin from Jessica's, knowing she had to talk to Elliott. It wasn't a conversation she wanted her child to overhear.
Hesitantly she took a few more steps and glanced into the living room.
"You're it!" Dustin shouted, waving his toy gun.
Elliott peered from behind the couch. "Hold it, cowboy. That's my horse you're riding."
"Uh-uh!" Then Dustin collapsed into giggles. "I don't got a horse!"
Katherine watched in amazement. Had Elliott returned to being himself? Her heart softened as she watched them.
Elliott walked forward on his hands and knees. "Could be I've got the horse right here." He gestured with his head toward his own back. "You want a ride?"
"Yeah!" Dustin shrieked, running toward Elliott.
"Okay, partner."
With Elliott's help Dustin climbed on his back, and in moments they were "riding" around the room. Elliott still looked awkward in the role, but he was being extraordinarily kind and gentle with her son.
Watching, Katherine sagged against the doorway, pressing one hand against her mouth. Would a confrontation take away the only father figure her son had ever known? Courage faltering, Katherine slipped back into the hall and out of sight. For now she was unable to face that possibility.
* * *
John Lewis, while not usually a particularly cheerful man, looked grim.
Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. Within the parameters of his job, he was accustomed to dealing with the gruesome, the macabre. But it usually wasn't personal. And it didn't come any more personal than his twin's fate.
"Whatever it is, spit it out," Paul said. Not allowing the other man to speak, he continued, "Is it Matthew?" He suppressed the fear. "Do you know something?"
John shook his head. "No, Elliott. The status on that is the same."
Status. It was an efficient realistic term. But now that he was on the other side, it seemed incredibly cold. "Is there something else?"
"Yes. I checked out the child's father."
"Dustin's?" Paul knew who John referred to. Somewhere along the way he had stopped thinking of Dustin as "the child."
John looked at him oddly. "Yes. Apparently the father has been out of the picture since before the child was born."
"Dustin," Paul corrected absently.
"Right." John's gaze sharpened. "No support payments have ever been arranged, nor visitation rights."
"Katherine didn't deny him visitation?" Paul asked, wondering if she had let bitterness come between father and son.
"Apparently not. There are no court records, which indicates there's never been a legal debate about the … Dustin."
"And you're sure you have the right man?"
John nodded. "It's the name listed on the birth certificate. It appears they were involved until Katherine learned she was pregnant. The relationship ended then."
Paul didn't need John to spell out the rest. If he nailed Katherine as Matthew's killer, Dustin would be left an orphan.
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
Paul glanced cynically at the outdoor focal point of the Heart to Heart Wedding Chapel. Moonlight reflected off the man-made waterfall, aided by electric uplights that illuminated the rocks and rushing water. Admittedly the designer had been wise to situate the reception area's outdoor dance floor beside the impressive waterfall. Along with the profusion of camellias and gardenias, Chinese lanterns and gas torchères, not to mention enticing music, the place reeked of orchestrated romance.
The wedding reception was winding down, and the remainder of Combined Catering's duties were being ably handled. And Paul had run out of excuses to avoid being with Katherine.
Since she now stood next to him, he was relieved to see that her mind apparently remained on business. She snagged one of the passing cooks.
"Ben, I think we should take down the last carving station," she said.
Ben nodded tiredly. It had been a long evening.
"Oh, and Ben…"
He turned back, attempting to add a smile to his weary expression. "Yes?"
"Great job! Your dim sum was the talk of the reception," Katherine told him enthusiastically, her hands forming double thumbs-up gestures.
Ben's half smile bloomed into a full grin. "Thanks. I tried something a little different."
"Well, it worked! Maybe you can make them again for the big Fairfax reception. We want that buffet to really dazzle."
Ben's grin grew to such proportions it nearly dwarfed his thin face. "Sure, I'll let Carter know you liked them."
She was still smiling when Ben left, whistling as he headed toward the carving station.
"Good employee relations," Paul commented.
"People need to know they're valued."
"I think it worked. Ben looks pleased."
She nodded. "I know too well how it feels to be on the other side of an ungrateful employer." She glanced back at Paul, her voice changing. "It's something I promised myself I would never be."
Paul caught her inflection. "Really?"
"We're lucky to have the luxury of running things as we please. I think that includes treating people well."
Paul grinned, much as he knew Matthew would. "No argument here."
A shadow passed over her face, and he guessed she was debating whether to press further about how he had been treating the employees. But she let the thorny issue drop as she held out one hand. "It looks like everything's under control. Will you dance with me?"
Uneasily Paul accepted her hand, deliberately holding her as far away as possible. They danced to the remainder of the song, and when the music faded away, he stepped back, prepared to drop her hand. "I guess we'd better get back to work."
Katherine shook her head. "Nope. Even Cinderella and her prince get to take a break."
One of Paul's brows edged upward. "I've been promoted?"
"You've always been my prince."
"And I thought I was the court jester."
She laughed, a soft sound that blended with the waterfall. "Not so jestery anymore."
"Oh? Is that a good thing?"
She hesitated. "I wasn't sure at first…"
"And now?" he probed, needing to know which twin she preferred.
"You're so strong—" Katherine lifted
her gaze to meet his "—and that's pretty hard to resist."
There was a stirring in him that had nothing to do with his mission. Was Katherine truly drawn to him? The music began again and this time he pulled her close. She sighed, a soft sound of pleasure, before sinking against him.
Instantly he remembered the previous afternoon when they'd gone swimming. The incapacitating dryness in his throat when he'd first glimpsed her in a bikini. He could remember every curve, the smooth length of her legs, her alluring cleavage. The image had haunted him in the hours since.
It wasn't a particularly warm night, yet heat was infusing him. Not a slow gentle rise in temperature, but a blaze that erupted.
The music was slow, evocative, provocative. Paul bent his head, feeling the silky curls of Katherine's hair. Her scent nudged his senses, whispered to his desire.
The press of her breasts against his chest led him to pull her even closer, to fit her hips against his. In response she tightened her hold, lacing her fingers through his hair.
It was madness, Paul knew. But he didn't loosen his hold or relinquish his desire.
They swayed on the dance floor, each movement in unison, each motion bringing them closer—
"Elliott, Katherine." A vaguely familiar male voice intruded.
Paul considered ignoring it, then realized it was probably exactly what he needed. But that didn't curb his resentment.
Reluctantly he pulled away from Katherine. Turning around, he recognized one of the executives he'd met at an event they'd recently catered. "Mr. Dawson, good to see you again."
"I'd like to talk a little business, if you have a moment," Dawson began, no doubt assuming Paul would make the time. "The company's annual meeting is coming up…."
Paul tried not to let his annoyance show. "Of course."
Katherine smiled politely. "I'll leave you gentlemen to talk business while I check on my pastries."
Mr. Dawson smiled back as he patted his stomach. "I'm afraid I can attest to their excellence."
Katherine continued to smile at him, but then shifted her gaze to Paul's. He caught the message there. Clearly she hadn't wanted the interruption, either. Paul's scrutiny remained on her even as Mr. Dawson began to outline the event.
Watching as Katherine made her way across the room, Paul knew he should focus his attention on Dawson. But somehow he couldn't break the connection he and Katherine had made. He'd wanted nothing more than to keep her in his arms, to take her home and—
Abruptly his thoughts screeched to a halt. And what? Bed his brother's wife? And in the process forget that she could be responsible for Matthew's death?
His lips drawn in a grim line, Paul wasn't sure which was worse. The knowledge that she could be guilty or the equal knowledge that, for the moment, he hadn't cared.
* * *
Katherine puttered around the bedroom, glancing every other minute at the doorway. Unable to quench her longing, she tried to soothe her restlessness. Parting the curtains at the window, she stared out into the night, seeing the splash of stars in the ebony sky. Each twinkle seemed to ask why her longing remained unanswered, unfulfilled.
She'd thought surely tonight he would come upstairs, leave the dusty ledgers behind. Hugging her arms against the chill of her thoughts, Katherine turned from the window. She glanced down at the filmy negligee she'd chosen and made up her mind. She couldn't force Elliott to come upstairs, but…
After changing into jeans and an off-the-shoulder cotton sweater, she studied herself critically in the mirror, deciding finally it was a casual but innocently alluring look. She slipped her feet into sandals, took one last look out the window and made a wish on a star. Better than a lucky penny, she told herself, reaching quickly into her jewelry box before she could change her mind.
All but skipping downstairs, she stopped at the French doors to the study and threw them open. "Okay, you. No more shutting yourself in. We have one of the most beautiful beaches in the world practically in our front yard. I don't think we should let it go to waste one more minute."
Elliott looked up at her with drawn brows. "Walk on the beach now?"
"Yes. Right now."
"It's nighttime, in case you haven't noticed."
"One of the best times, in my opinion. There's a full moon – plenty of light to see by." Purposely Katherine lightened her voice and winked at him. "Besides, it's the perfect time for romance – or smugglers."
"Is this multiple choice?" he asked, looking slightly uneasy.
"If you want it to be," she replied evenly, not showing the sudden prick of hurt. Did he detest the idea of romance with her so much?
"We can't just leave Dustin," he protested.
Katherine sighed. "He's at Jessica's, remember? Just like the other nights we work late, sleeping over with Brian."
"Right, so they can go to Zorak," Elliott replied.
Surprised, she tilted her face in question. "You remembered Zorak?"
"It's not easy to forget," he said, thawing finally. "Dustin's been talking Zorak day and night. I didn't realize the spaceship took off today."
Katherine laughed softly. "Right on schedule. Now come on. Let's not waste another moment of that moonlight."
Elliott hesitated, then smiled. "You're not supposed to encourage me to play hooky."
"Hooky?" she echoed in disbelieving tones. "You've been working at least eighteen hours today."
"If that's what it takes," he replied easily, standing at last.
As Elliott walked from behind the desk, she could only stare at him in renewed surprise. When he talked this way, Katherine felt as if she scarcely knew him. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the changes.
* * *
Katherine was right, Paul admitted silently. The beach at night was especially beautiful. And intriguing. The shadows, the moonlight, the rush of the incoming tide. Salt stained the air, as did the odors of seaweed, damp sand and the ever-present hemp. Lights from the piers strung out toward the ocean like pathways to other worlds. Dark mysterious worlds that beckoned.
Paul felt a beckoning of his own. As if in response to his thoughts, Katherine slipped her hand into his. It was warm and small within his own. Even though he'd been cautioning himself ever since their return earlier that evening against a repeat performance, his pulse quickened. They were only holding hands, he told himself with disgust.
Then she brushed against him, her voice rising, and reason fled. "Look, you can see the night fishers!"
He followed the direction of her outstretched arm, but his attention remained fixed on her. Despite the distinctive aromas of the beach, Katherine's scent wafted to him, wriggling its way past his defenses. It was a scent that whispered clean, feminine. Understated yet provocative.
Reining in his thoughts, he walked forward. "We could look for driftwood for centerpieces."
"And treasure."
Paul laughed. "Treasure?"
"Pieces of a shipwreck…"
"And what could we find from a shipwreck?" His tone was skeptical.
"Most anything. That's the wonder of it. The sea harbors a world of secrets. But every so often the ocean releases one, washing something onto the beach. It could be part of a mast from the ship itself. Or a passenger's belongings, maybe gems or colored glass – they're equally precious bits of history."
Surprised, Paul stared at her, seeing that she looked completely serious. "You think the value of gems and colored glass is the same?"
Katherine's smile was wistful, her expression fervent. "Perhaps the glass was part of a young bride's dowry, a bride who never reached her destination, never had her fairy-tale wedding. To her heartbroken groom, that fragment of hope would be priceless." Paul searched her face. The hopeful romanticism he found in it was difficult to doubt. Shaken by the discovery, his voice was gruff. "You can't count on finding treasure, you know."
Katherine's smile was a thing of beauty. "I know."
They walked along quietly for a few moments
. Paul wondered at the rightness of the feeling.
They stopped at a piece of driftwood in their path.
"Too big," Paul said, seeing close up how large it was.
"You're right. And I hate to break up the big pieces."
"Still looking for treasure?" Paul asked gently as he watched her continue to scan the beach.
"Yes, but I also want to find sand dollars," she replied, her hand still in his, her eyes bright with the adventure of the hunt.
"They'd probably be all broken up by the time they washed ashore," he said, hating to always be the pessimist.
"But to find one that's perfect is worth a lifetime of searching," she returned. Then she cupped his jaw. "Just like you, it was worth the wait."
Any appropriate response remained stuck in his throat. It should be something glib, he thought. Glib, however, was beyond his ability at the moment.
But she was bending down, looking at something in the sand. Then she rose, dusting off her hands.
"Nothing good?" His voice was husky.
She shook her head. "Fool's gold. But I'm not taken in by the bright shiny stuff."
Insanely Paul was beginning to wonder if he was. Katherine was as enticing as any bright shiny trinket.
"Let's bury our toes in the sand!" she suggested excitedly, bending to pull off her sandals.
He hesitated.
"Come on, don't be an old poop!"
It was hard to resist her infectious enthusiasm, and he knew Matthew wouldn't have hesitated. Resigned, Paul kicked off his shoes. She grabbed his hand and tugged him to the water's edge, stopping just short of the incoming tide. She stood still as she buried her toes in the sand.
Paul joined her, feeling the cool sand beneath his feet. It didn't take long for the ocean to work its magic, as the waves neared the shore, each lap coming closer. Katherine again slipped her hand in his, swaying toward him. Their bodies connected and the jolt had nothing to do with the water that foamed around his ankles.
Paul turned toward her. He pushed the hair from her face, the curls even wilder in the moist night air. He could feel her tremble beneath his touch. And that vulnerability drew him more than any seductive gesture could.
He pulled Katherine close and her breasts grazed his chest. Beneath the moonlight her violet eyes shone like rare gems, long lush lashes framing them. But it was the emotion in their depths that struck him. Hope, love – and stirring desire. The combination staggered him. Spellbound, he cupped the back of her neck, his hands connecting with a length of silky hair. Then he bent his head and brought his mouth to hers.
THE WRONG BROTHER Page 7