The Burning Point

by Mary Jo Putney

  "Come again, Katie," Frank said. "Anytime."

  They trailed out to the front porch. Lacy snowflakes were drifting down and frosting the world with a delicate white haze. Connie gave Kate a hug. "This is a nice girl, Donovan. You should keep her."

  "I'm just driving her home, Aunt Connie."

  Frank tossed him a key chain. "The blue barge is around the corner."

  "Thanks. And don't worry, I won't be out too late." After the door closed behind the Russos, he said, "Don't blame me because my aunt and uncle want to adopt you."

  "I wouldn't mind being adopted by Frank and Connie. They're terrific." She looked at him sideways. "You live with them?"

  "Sometimes. At the moment." He was silent for a half a dozen steps before saying in a voice that didn't invite comment, "My parents are dead, so I kind of shift around between relatives. I always leave before they get tired of having me underfoot."

  Kate was taken aback. How horrible it must be not to have a place of his own, where he'd always be welcome. Wordlessly she slipped her hand into his. He threaded his fingers between hers in a warm, intimate clasp. For the second time, she felt tingles.

  They left dark footprints in the snow as they walked around the corner to an enormous, white frosted car. "The blue barge at your service." Donovan unlocked the passenger door and opened it for Kate. "When you said your name was Corsi, I thought it was something WASPy like C-o-u-r-s-e-y. Obviously not."

  "Hell, no, paisano." She slid into the car. "I'm half Italian, just like you."

  "Corsi. Is the family business Phoenix Demolition?"

  When she nodded, he said in an awed voice, "PDI does fantastic stuff. Hell, your father practically invented the whole field of explosive demolition. He's like Red Adair is for oil well fires. Now I understand why he doesn't want you working for him."

  "Don't you dare say another word about that! I've had quite enough bossy men for one night!"

  "I didn't say a word," he said with a grin.

  He closed her door and circled to the driver's side. After getting inside and shutting the door, he turned to look at Kate. The windows were covered with a translucent layer of snow, transforming the glow of the streetlight halfway down the block into a dim, pearly luminescence.

  All levity vanished, replaced by a tension as old as Adam and Eve. The expression in his eyes made her feel hot and breathless and a little alarmed. Not fear of him, but of an attraction beyond anything she'd ever experienced. This was happening too fast. She fumbled nervously for her seat belt.

  "Don't buckle up yet." He reached out and gently rubbed her cheek with his knuckles. "You're so pretty. Radiant. Not quite real."

  The skin to skin touch made her heart beat faster. How could something so simple be so arousing?

  He slid across the seat until the hard length of his thigh was pressed along her leg. "Your hair looks better down." His fingers caressed her head with a tenderness that was both soothing and erotic.

  She felt fragile, ready to crumble under his touch. She really should tell him to stop. A single word from her would prevent this from going any further. He would start the car, drive her to Rachel's, and that would be that.

  She didn't move. Scarcely breathed, her gaze locked on his.

  "I've wanted to do this ever since you shimmied out of that limo." He lowered his head and kissed her. His lips were warm and soft, gentle in pressure yet sending hammer-beats of excitement through her veins.

  She kissed him back, sliding her fingers into that silky, sexy dark hair. Who would have dreamed that a high IQ Hell's Angel type could be so irresistible?

  Hesitant exploration dissolved into fire and desire as reality narrowed to his taste, his touch, his closeness. Every sensation was shockingly heightened. She wanted to devour him, absorb him, learn him so deeply that they would become one.

  Her sensual haze was pierced by an internal voice that said very clearly, You will marry this man.

  The words shocked her. She broke the kiss and drew her head back to stare into Donovan's shadowed eyes. Marry him? But they scarcely knew each other!

  The voice repeated, You have just met your future husband.

  She would have laughed, except that her sensible mother claimed to have experienced the same flash of inner knowledge when she'd met Sam Corsi.

  But marriage? She didn't even know his whole name! Yet her certainty was utterly convincing, and surprisingly plausible. Under the biker facade he was intelligent and kind, responsible, with a sense of humor that matched hers. Not to mention liking babies and being drop-dead handsome. Exactly what she would want in a husband--when she got around to looking seriously in ten or twelve years.

  But maybe her life wasn't going to run according to her master plan. Silently she raised a hand and caressed Donovan's cheek. Warmth and a faint, alluring rasp of whiskers caused flutters deep inside her.

  He turned and pressed a kiss into her palm. "Kate," he whispered. "Carissima."

  Dearest one. She'd heard the Italian endearment from her earliest days. Desire and tenderness pulsed through her with disorienting force, along with a clear knowledge that he would not always be a comfortable companion, that there was darkness as well as kindness in him.

  Struggling for sense, she murmured, "Is it my imagination, or is this something...something special?"

  "No. It's not your imagination." He kissed her again, one hand undoing the buttons of her oversized jacket until he could slide his hand inside and cup her silk-covered breast. Mental clarity vanished in a torrent of sensations--and the certainty that her life had changed forever.

  Chapter 6

  "You don't have to make a decision tonight."

  Donovan's low voice--deeper than when they'd met a dozen years earlier, and with no trace of East Baltimore left--snapped Kate back to the family room and her ex-husband.

  She took a shaky breath as she tried to reconcile the excitement and wonder of that first meeting with the murderous strain between them now. "I'm not the only one who has to make a decision, Donovan. Would you agree to this nonsense?"

  He exhaled roughly. "I...don't know. If you decide you're willing, I'll have to think long and hard about whether I am. I want PDI. I want it a hell of a lot, but maybe not this much. If I'm forced out, I can always start my own demolition firm."

  She thought of the long-term PDI employees. Some would follow Donovan to a new firm, but others would stay with Marchetti, fracturing the family that had been Phoenix Demolition. "That wouldn't be the same."

  "No. It wouldn't." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Which is why I'm at least considering whether it would be possible to comply with Sam's crazy will."

  She thought of the home they'd once shared, and shivered. "I can't imagine living in the old house again. It's so small. We'd be on top of each other."

  As soon as she heard the words, she flushed. For most of the three years they'd lived on Brandy Lane, they had been on top of each other. Sometimes Donovan above, sometimes her, in every room of the house.

  Mercifully ignoring the double entendre, Donovan said without inflection, "For what it's worth, I've done some remodeling. There's more room now. How about if I pick you up in the morning and take you out to Brandy Lane? It might help you decide if you could bear to live there again."

  Visit the home they had worked on together with so much love and laughter? Come face to face with their past?

  Knowing she had no choice, she said, "Ten o'clock?"

  He nodded, then said goodbye.

  Relieved to be alone, Kate sank into the sofa opposite the fire. For a long time she stared at the flickering flames, too numb to think.

  She needed to talk to someone from her normal life. One of the house's dozen telephones sat on the end table, so she punched in her brother's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Tom? It's me."

  "How are you doing, hon?"

  Tears stung her eyes as he used a Baltimore endearment from their childhood. She kicked off her shoes and burrowed
into the sofa. "Lord, what a day it has been."

  After a silence, he said painfully, "I should be there."

  His doubt and guilt pulled her up short. This was a hard time for him, and she hadn't called to make it worse. "Forget I said that. Mother and I are doing fine. Everyone has been so kind. The cathedral was packed. Lots of dignitaries, including the mayor, the governor, two congressmen, and a senator. Sam would have loved it." She'd always referred to her father by his first name when she was irritated with him, so he'd been Sam ever since she'd left Baltimore a decade before.

  She described the events of the day and passed on good wishes of people who'd asked after Tom, but with a sure instinct for noticing what wasn't being said, he asked, "What about Donovan? I assume he was there."

  "He was a pallbearer. We chatted a bit at the open house. Very civilized." Her brother had been spending much of his time at a hospice with a terminally ill friend, which gave her a good excuse to change the subject. "How is Randy doing?"

  "He went into a coma this morning. He's not expected to last more than another day or two." Tom sighed. "He was afraid of dying alone, poor kid. At least that won't happen. Half a dozen of us are taking turns sitting with him."

  She heard grief in his voice, but also acceptance. Years of volunteer hospice work had deepened his spirituality, enabling him to accept that death was as much a part of the great dance as life. Yet she selfishly wished he were here so she could take refuge in his arm as she had ever since they were toddlers.

  Deciding to concentrate on the positive aspect of what had happened, she said, "Tonight Charles Hamilton told us about the weird will Sam left, and there's some surprisingly good news. You're one of the major heirs."

  "Good God, Sam put me in his will?"

  "Mother said that he never stopped loving you."

  "You don't know what this means to me." Her brother's voice broke. "No, that's not true. You're the only one who can know what it means."

  "Sam couldn't admit he was wrong when he was alive," she said quietly. "I think this is a belated apology for being such a jerk where you were concerned."

  "He was what he was, Kate. I'm glad he was finally able to make some kind of gesture toward me. I only wish it had happened when he was alive."

  She gave her brother time to absorb the wonder of Sam's posthumous overture before she moved on to the difficult aspect of the legacy. "Though Sam finally made the gesture, don't start spending your inheritance. You and I will receive major money and Donovan will get the business, but only if some very strange conditions are fulfilled."

  "What kind of conditions?"

  "He wanted Donovan and me to live in the house on Brandy Lane for a year. Otherwise, you and I don't get a penny, and PDI will be sold to another demolition firm."

  "Sweet Jesus!" After three beats of shocked silence, Tom said, "Impossible. You can't live with Donovan. I assume you said so immediately."

  "Not yet. I'm...thinking about it."

  "For God's sake, Kate! It's only money. You and I are getting along just fine as we are, and you don't owe Donovan a damned thing."

  Tom's concern was comforting, but as her protective big brother, he lacked objectivity. The situation had too many ramifications for her to make a decision quickly. "Mother thinks sharing a house for a year might be good for both of us."

  "She wouldn't say that if she knew the whole story! Don't even think about doing this, Kate. Please."

  Tom cared little for money, but she knew that he could use Sam's legacy. Though he was a first rate computer consultant, he took on only enough projects to pay his bills. More of his time went into his volunteer work at the hospice and tutoring kids who were at risk. As his sister, Kate wanted him to have more security. With Sam's money, he could buy a place of his own. She'd love to rehab an old San Francisco townhouse for her brother.

  Sam, damn his conniving soul, had known she might do for Tom what she wouldn't do for herself. "There's a lot to consider, Tom. If I agree to Sam's conditions, Donovan and I would just be housemates. We'd hardly ever see each other."

  "That may be the theory, but can you guarantee it would be like that in practice?"

  "Life doesn't come with any guarantees beyond death and taxes."

  "Okay. Think it through. Weigh the pluses and minuses. Then say no."

  "We'll see." Kate suppressed a yawn. "I'll start by sleeping on it."

  "Do that. Give Mother my love. I'll call her tomorrow."

  "Will do. Take care, Tom." Kate hung up, weary to the bone and ready for bed. But she doubted that she'd sleep.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  An advantage of old friends was that it wasn't necessary to speak. Julia was grateful for Charles' undemanding silence. Even small talk would have been too much.

  Kate entered the living room to say good-night, dark circles under her eyes. As she headed off in her stocking feet, shoes dangling from one hand, Julia thought how nice it would be to have her daughter in the same city, or even in the same time zone.

  After Kate left, Julia said, "Another of the same, bartender."

  Charles rose and topped up her chardonnay. "If you want to get seriously drunk, you'll have to switch to something stronger."

  "Then I'd just get sick. Very undignified." The phone began to ring. She ignored it, and the ringing stopped abruptly. "The answering machine is on. I'm at the point where one more kind, warmhearted condolence would make me scream."

  "No, you wouldn't. You'd be completely gracious." He refreshed his own drink, then sat again. "As Barbara used to say, you're a credit to steel magnolias everywhere."

  She thought sadly of Charles's wife, who had been one of her closest friends. "Barbara over-estimated me. Not steel. Iron, and rusting fast."

  "A little rust doesn't mean the underlying structure isn't sound,' he said quietly. "Are you going to tell Kate your suspicions about Sam's death?"

  "Not yet. She has enough on her mind." Julia stroked Oscar, whose head was on her lap. "Maybe never. After all, there's no real proof."

  "Given her reaction to Sam's posthumous manipulations, I'm surprised that she isn't on the way to the airport already." He swished the Scotch and water in his glass. "Do you think she and Donovan will give it a try?"

  "I have no idea. Neither of them has ever said why they split up, but I've always suspected that Patrick had an extra-marital fling, and Kate left when she found out."

  Surprised, Charles said, "I thought he worshipped the ground Kate walked on."

  "He did, but that doesn't necessarily mean fidelity." Julia tried without success to keep a caustic edge from her voice. "The double standard will never go out of style. Not when so many men enjoy it."

  Reading between the lines, Charles said, "Good God, Julia, did Sam...?" He stopped abruptly.

  Knowing he would not pursue such a personal question, Julia said, "Once or twice, early in our marriage, when he was on a business trip. Even though I was pregnant with Tom, I almost left him when I found out. Sam truly didn't understand how much his infidelity would hurt me--after all, his straying had just been sex, it was me that he loved. How come I was taking it so seriously? I stopped packing long enough to ask him to visualize me in bed with another man. He looked sick, and swore he'd never be unfaithful again. As far as I know, he kept his word."

  Charles whistled. "The things one doesn't know about other people's marriages."

  "It wasn't something that either Sam or I wanted to advertise." She closed her eyes and pressed the cool wine glass to her forehead. "We came from different worlds, and a lot of the initial attraction was because of those differences. Problems were inevitable. People are quicker to divorce now. If Kate and Patrick hadn't been so young, maybe they could have worked things out, perhaps even had a stronger marriage for it."

  "That could still happen."

  "I doubt it. Too much time has passed." She sipped her chardonnay, remembering. "Did I ever tell you that the first time Sam and I met was when he came to my parents' house as b
oss of a crew remodeling the basement? He was just out of the army and working construction while he decided what to do next." It had been lust at first sight on both sides.

  "I didn't know that. You were mercifully light on details when you gave my ring back and said that you hoped we'd always be friends."

  "Lord, did I say that? The oldest cliche in the book for ending a relationship." Despite her well-intentioned words at the time, several years had passed when there had been no contact between her and Charles, though she'd noted the announcement of his wedding, and hoped he'd be happy. But Baltimore was a small town in many ways, and they moved in the same circles. Eventually their paths crossed at the wedding of a mutual friend. Barbara and Sam had adored each other with Mediterranean gusto, which made it easy for Julia and Charles to pick up the threads of their lifetime friendship again.

  Soon, the four of them had developed the special bond that exists when each member of a pair of couples truly enjoys every other person. That bond had only been strengthened as they raised their children together. When Sam needed an attorney, he'd retained Charles, who had ended up knowing most of the Corsi family secrets, except for the painful one of Sam's early infidelity. Barbara, cut off from her Orthodox family for marrying a gentile, had treated Julia like a sister. In her turn, Julia had found Barbara's company exhilarating in something of the same way she enjoyed Sam.

  Thinking of all the happy years, she said, "I've given thanks often that we became friends again. You and Barbara and your girls enriched our lives immeasurably."

  "The same is true of you and Sam and your children." He finished the last of his drink and set the glass aside. "I'd had a very clear mental picture of you and me happily growing old together, so I was stunned when you broke things off. But...relieved, too. For an engaged man, I was finding the sexy brunette who had the office next to mine entirely too attractive."

  "Barbara, I assume?"

  "Yes. The fact that you were brave enough to defy expectations and marry someone who 'wasn't our kind' gave me the courage to do the same. I never regretted it."