He wouldn't explain anything, of course, until Kate was standing beside him. "My houseguest and I will be out in a few moments to talk."
With that, he strode to the bedroom to see what was taking Kate so long. As he pushed open the door, the sight of her brought him to a surprised halt. She was slipping into the tailored jacket of a cream-colored linen pantsuit, which she wore with an apricot silk shell and high-heeled pumps. Her hair was coiled in a shining braid on top her head, with tiny wisps framing her face and small pearls glinted at her ears and throat.
She looked elegant, beautiful and, somehow, beyond his reach. He wasn't sure what gave him that last impression, but it made his insides clench with foreboding. "My, don't you look nice."
She tossed him a smile, then turned to the mirror to smooth her hair. Not a single strand was out of place.
He shut the door behind him. "But … why are you so dressed up?"
"Well, I told you yesterday that I was out of clean shorts and tops. All I have left are suits and dresses. This was the most casual." She met his gaze in the mirror. Reluctantly, it seemed. "Which is fine, really, because I'm going to be … traveling today."
He stared at her in disbelief. She hadn't changed her mind about leaving. Their kisses, their lovemaking, their intimacy … none of it had changed her mind. Her suitcase stood beside the bed, ready to go.
But maybe she'd come back. Maybe she'd handle business in Tallahassee, then catch a return flight. "What exactly are your plans?"
"I'm going home," she answered with devastating simplicity. "My flight's this afternoon, out of New Orleans. I probably should have told you earlier, but I guess I was too … distracted." She offered him a weak smile.
He felt as if he'd been kicked in the head. The world suddenly seemed off-kilter. "Kate." He approached her in a daze. "You can't leave yet. We have things to talk about. Loose ends to tie up. Besides—" he slid his arms around her and pulled her near "—I'm not ready to let you go."
Her expression warmed, thank God, and her hands skimmed up his chest, but then regret clouded her face. "I had a wonderful time with you last night," she said softly. "And what I said was true. I've never before felt the way you made me feel. I'll always treasure the memory."
Always treasure the memory. Oh, God.
"Now it's time for me to go," she said, "and get back to my own life."
"Your own life?" His voice had gone dry and gruff.
"I do have a life, you know." She meant to sound rueful, he knew. Droll. The attempt at humor fell flat. "Classes will be starting next month, and I have to prepare my lesson plans."
"You have a whole month to do that. Stay longer, Kate. A week or so. Here, with me and Arianne." He ran his hands up her back, pressed her tighter against him … willed her to lift her face to his for a kiss.
She didn't. Emotion darkened her eyes, and she drew back from his embrace. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay. And I think it's better that I don't see Arianne before I go." Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes gleamed too brightly. "There's no sense in upsetting her. Maybe after some time has passed … a year, I'd say … I can see her again, and it won't disrupt her transition." Tears welled up, and she dashed them away with her hand.
Anger reared in him. "You're ready to just walk away from her—" and from me "—and not see her for a whole year?"
"It won't be easy, believe me. But she needs time to adjust to her new home without being reminded of … of…" She finished on a whisper, "Me."
"She needs all the love she can get, and as far as she knows, you're her main source. You're running away, Kate. Why?"
"I'm going home, not running away. Please don't make this any harder. If you or your mother would drop me a line now and then, just to tell me how Arianne is doing, I'd be very grateful."
Drop her a line. He or his mother. He couldn't have been more stunned if she'd slapped him. "Are you saying you don't want me to call you, or … visit?"
When the moment dragged on and she hadn't answered, he tipped her chin up to better read her face. "It's not that hard of a question. You either want me, Kate … or you don't."
She regarded him in clear dismay. And an ache grew inside him. Averting her face, she paced away. "Things happened so quickly between us, and I … I was in a place and frame of mind that made me feel—" she spread her hands "—unlike myself. I need to get back to reality. My reality." She paused, gathered her thoughts and delivered her answer. "I would prefer you didn't call, unless it has to do with Arianne."
He couldn't breathe for quite a long moment. He wasn't part of her reality … except as Arianne's father. He found that impossible to accept.
"I want to stay in Arianne's life, as her aunt," she said. "A sexual relationship between you and me will only make things … awkward."
Pain and anger mounted in his chest. She saw their relationship as only sexual. And awkward. "You didn't mention that concern last night."
"Last night wasn't for problems," she whispered, her eyes shining with an intensity that twisted the knife in his gut. "We saved those for today. Remember?"
He hadn't expected his own words to come back and ambush him. And after last night, he hadn't expected her to shrug aside their relationship as if it were a minor faux pas. Just this morning, they'd made the sweetest love. He couldn't believe she'd consider that casual entertainment. Camryn would have. Kate would not. He knew that in his heart, his bones.
Something had changed drastically between them since earlier this morning. Since … Kip's visit.
The realization flashed like light in a thickening fog. When Kip had walked in the house, he'd said, "I've come to talk about the Kate Jones situation." He'd said it quietly enough, though, that Mitch hadn't thought Kate heard. Maybe he'd been wrong.
He searched her face. "Did you, by any chance, overhear Kip say that he'd stopped by to talk about … you?"
"About me? Your lawyer came by to talk about me?"
He scrutinized her. Had she really not overheard what Kip had said before he'd hurried him outside? Things would be much easier to fix if that was the problem. A simple matter of explaining. "When I first learned you weren't Camryn, I called him to ask for advice. Dragging women from their homes and across the Gulf of Mexico isn't something I do every day. Could get a man into trouble."
She gave a soft, understanding smile. "Don't worry, Mitch. I understand why you did it, and I admire your determination to bring your daughter home. Don't give it another thought. I'd never do anything to hurt you or Arianne."
Oh, but she was. She was tearing their hearts out.
"I should get on the road," she murmured, looking pale and distraught, despite the cavalier attitude she'd assumed. She looped the strap of her slim, beige handbag over her shoulder. "I know New Orleans is quite a distance from here. Will you be able to drive me, or should I … find other transportation?"
Her courteous detachment washed through him in cold, stunning currents, dousing the last of his doubt. She really intended to leave him. Just like that, without a backward glance. Which meant she didn't give a damn about him, or the love they'd made, and hadn't given a thought to a future with him. What had all those tender kisses been about? All those mesmerizing, heart-in-her-eyes gazes?
Why hadn't he known she'd only been playing? Fighting to keep the pain and anger from his voice, he asked in a flat, cool tone, "What time's your flight?"
"One-thirty."
He pursed his lips and nodded. "I'm sure we'll find plenty of volunteers who'll be more than happy to drive you." Turning his back on her, he walked to the door, then paused. "I'd take you myself, but I have a daughter who's going to need me more now than ever." And the truth of that statement tore him in two. Happy though he was that Arianne was home, it pained him to know she was losing Kate.
And that he was losing Kate.
"I hear people talking outside," she remarked, drawing his attention to the murmur of conversation coming from outside. "Is it your family?"
&nbs
p; "Yeah." He suddenly wasn't sure he could explain much about her without losing his hard-won control. He didn't have a choice, though. "I'd say it's time we tell them who you are."
"Yes, of course. I'd been hoping for the chance to do that." Straightening her spine, she firmed her lips and lifted her suitcase. "I'm ready."
Swallowing a curse, he took the suitcase from her and gestured for her to proceed him out the door. As much as he wanted her to struggle with her decision to leave him, courtesy was too deeply ingrained in him. He would carry her luggage, damn it, and find her a ride to the airport. Then he'd do his best to forget her.
Bleakness loomed just beneath the surface of his anger like a black hole. Clenching his jaw, he followed her out of the bedroom.
And as she strode across his living room in her classic leather pumps, her pearls glistening, her posture straight and authoritative, he saw her in a new light. She was every inch Kate Jones, Ph.D.
With a sickening squeeze of his heart, he realized what a fool he'd been, believing she felt anything for him. She, a professor at a university. And a city girl, to boot. She probably dated her esteemed colleagues, or tycoons with luxury cars and mansions in the suburbs. Why the hell would she want a bayou-bred shrimper with a pickup truck and a cabin in the woods?
He had to give her credit for not scoffing at him when he suggested they carry on with their relationship. She'd just been slumming. Oh, she'd miss Arianne, all right … but she probably couldn't wait to put the swamplands behind her, along with his highly opinionated, openly antagonistic family. For all he knew, she'd run back to her safe little academic community and write a paper on the hostile, backwoods clans who live on the bayous.
He stifled a painful laugh. And he'd thought she was his mate. The woman meant for him.
No, worse. Much worse. He knew.
She pushed through the door and stepped out onto the porch, where his sister and mother halted in their whispered conversation. The men were out in the yard, but they'd directed their attention to the porch. Mitch sauntered out directly behind Kate.
All eyes were fixed on the slim, elegant, stylishly coiffed blonde. Surprise shone on everyone's faces. Yesterday she'd worn Camryn's sultry sundress—a sexy little number they'd come to expect from her. Camryn had never worn a prim, tailored pantsuit, or carried herself with this graceful sophistication.
Mitch drew the attention away from Kate by setting her suitcase down. He could practically hear the questions racing through their minds. Who was leaving—Camryn, or both of them? When, where, why?
The answers were locked too tightly in his chest to pry loose. But he did manage to summon his voice. Or, at least, a rusty, dry facsimile. "You may think you know this woman, but you don't. Her name's Kate Jones. Professor of history at Florida State University." The bewilderment around him thickened. "Camryn's twin sister."
Their astonishment was absolute. His mother gaped from a rocking chair, Joey from the swing, Remy and Darryl from their stances near his pickup truck and Mitch's father from a lounge chair beneath an oak tree, his wood and whittling knife forgotten in his hands.
Kate's fingers tightened nervously on her purse strap as she offered a wan, tentative smile to each thunderstruck face.
If things were different, Mitch mused, he'd have his arm around her, and he'd say something silly to tease her. By the time his family gathered their wits, she'd be smiling at him with rueful humor. Regarding him with tender warmth. Making them all understand, before another word was spoken, that she belonged to him. That they were meant to be together.
But of course, things weren't that way. She would never belong to him. He wasn't even part of her "reality."
Sliding his fists into his pockets, he leaned against the pillar and kept his pain and anger strictly to himself.
"I'm, um, sorry," she said to the group at large, her summer-soft voice breaking the silence and sharpening the ache in his gut, "for misleading you. But when Mitch found me with Arianne, he assumed I was Camryn. And I … well, I decided it would be better to let him go on believing that. You see, Camryn was killed in a car crash in January."
Their stares grew all the more incredulous. No one said a word.
Kate bowed her head, then hurried on with her explanation, clearly not wanting to dwell on her sister's death. "I didn't know who Mitch was when he came and took Arianne. Camryn hadn't told me anything about Arianne's father. Except that he'd been … abusive."
"Abusive," Joey scoffed. "Dat's a low-down, dirty lie. Mitch has never, in his entire life, lifted a finger against anyone, let alone—"
"Hush, Joey." His mother's face was pale and her lips tight. "I want to hear what this young woman has to say for herself, letting my son believe she was his wife … when all along, his wife was dead."
Hearing it spelled out in those terms made all of them glance at Kate. Mitch squared his jaw, crossed his arms and let her take the heat. She'd done exactly as his mother had described, hadn't she? She'd also made him fall in love with her—kissing him as though she'd found her one-and-only—then walked away without a care.
"I had to pose as Camryn until I found Arianne," Kate said, her color rising, her tone a plea for understanding. "I had to learn more about Mitch."
"Hooo, I'll bet you learned plenty about him, from what we saw of you two last night," Joey retorted angrily.
Mitch felt his throat go dry. He supposed he hadn't been too subtle—the way he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her. The way he'd refused to leave her side. The way he'd held her hand. Danced with her. Kissed her. Taken her home.
"Don't go there, Joey," he warned, his voice hoarse and harsher than he could help.
And Kate looked nothing less than mortified.
As she should be.
"Answer me one thing, Dr. Jones, please, ma'am," his mother bit out in her soft, steel-edged way. "Were you planning to run wit' Arianne?"
"Yes," Kate whispered. "Yes, I was. If I … had to."
Mitch shifted his eyes to the rafters of the porch. Now she'd done it. They'd be ready to feed her to the gators before she had a chance to explain.
"But I'm not going to run with her," she continued, her voice tight, "because I can't give her the things you can. Like, family. A real family." There was no mistaking the awed reverence in her tone. "She'll have you, Mrs. Devereaux. Her grandmère. You'll hold her in your rocking chair whenever she needs it. Put her trophies on display … and keep photos of her from every special event in her life. She'll have her grandpère, too. And just by watching him work, she'll learn to appreciate art and all the little details other people might not notice. Her uncles will play fiddles for her, and start water fights. And her cousins … well, she'll be tearing around the yard with them in no time. Claude's already the apple of her eye."
Mémère inclined her head in agreement, and Joey responded with a glint of acknowledgment in her gaze.
"And she'll have her aunts," Kate said with a soft, almost rueful smile as she paced across the porch. "Oh, my … yes, her aunts. They'll fuss over the cute little things she does and argue over who's going to get to spend time with her. Do you have any idea how rare and wonderful that is?" She stopped her pacing and stared at the bunch of them. "Do you?"
No one answered. Her intensity held them all mesmerized.
"Maybe I see it so clearly because I didn't have that. From the time I was five, I lived in a children's home. Camryn might not have told you. She didn't like to think about it. But she and I … well, we…" Her words dwindled; her lips wavered and slanted. She looked away. After a moment, she returned her gaze to them and went on in a huskier, quieter voice. "We would have given anything … anything … for a grandma and grandpa."
Silence bore down on them with throat-aching heaviness.
"And if family isn't enough reason for Arianne to grow up here, there are plenty of others. The community, for one. She'll have so many friends! And you can't underestimate the value of her heritage. The Cajun language, the fo
od, the music, the dancing. She'll know she's part of a proud, grand tradition. And then there's all this." Descending the steps into the yard, she held her arms wide. "The bayou, the forest, the birds, the animals. And the … sunsets." Tears welled up in her eyes—Mitch swore they did—and she looked his way. Just the slightest, briefest meeting before she pivoted away.
But his heart kicked into a harder rhythm. Sunsets. Why would the mention of sunsets bring tears to her eyes? Sure, she was talking about leaving Arianne, but she'd looked at him when she'd said "sunsets."
She wouldn't be thinking about that sunset unless it had meant something special to her … would she?
"The bayou will be a wonderful place for Arianne to grow up," she whispered in a choked voice. She blinked away unshed tears and visibly gathered her composure.
Mitch fought against the compulsion to go to her, to pull her into his arms. Her fine, warm emotions were for Arianne, not him … and he wouldn't put himself through the pain of holding her when he'd only have to let her go again. If she'd wanted his embraces, she wouldn't be leaving.
And heading back to her life.
He gritted his teeth, and the pain spiking through his jaw made him realize he'd already been gritting them.
Kate, meanwhile, glanced around at the others with determined self-control. "So, you don't have to worry about me trying to take Arianne away from you. I'm so very, very glad for her." No one could doubt her sincerity. With a quirky twist of her mouth and tilt of her head, she added, "I might worry a little about the snakes and the alligators, though."
His mother and sister nodded in maternal understanding and uttered reassurances.
Kate felt her chest constrict. She really would be leaving her baby, her sweet Arianne, to start a life without her. But she couldn't let herself grieve over that now or she'd fall apart. She had to keep a stout heart, a stiff upper lip … at least until she boarded that plane.
Needing to distract herself from the grief, she angled a look toward Darryl and Remy, who leaned against a pickup truck. "When Arianne is old enough, I hope you'll warn her about the A word. Tell her to shorten it to 'gator' when she's riding in a pirogue."
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