“Desirable residence,” Maureen clarified. “Like in St. John’s Wood or Mayfair. But here you are in Ladbroke Grove.”
“I just … I feel comfortable here. I was afraid it would be like the Haight, but it’s so much better.”
“Better how? I heard Haight-Ashbury was all full of peace, love and flowers.”
An indelicate snort indicated Katie’s opinion of her former residence. “Ha. That might have been the original intent, but it sure as hell didn’t work out. I mean, the people there are just as uptight and judgmental as the people they say they’re trying to avoid. They go on and on about how the establishment stifles people, but they’ve got their own little establishment going on.”
“Really?” Maureen gave up the pretense of sewing and listened with interest.
“Yeah. If you don’t think like them in things like politics and religion and music and society, then you’re an outcast. It really bummed me out when I realized they don’t really accept anyone, just the ones who agree with them.”
“Is that why you left?” Maureen asked softly. “What happened?”
“Nah, it’s in the past. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
“You can tell me if you want. You can trust me not to judge you, or to go babbling it around.”
Katie dropped the satin lining in her lap and sighed. She figured if she was going to unburden herself, she might as well go all the way. Too, she did trust Maureen, and it was nice to have someone listen.
“Okay, the thing is, I was pretty much the worst hippie ever. No, I mean it. When I got out there I did all the things I thought I was supposed to do, but I just couldn’t get into it.”
Maureen’s lips quivered with amusement. “Was there an agenda?”
“You know what I mean.” Katie waved aside Maureen’s question. “The whole sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll revolutionary thing. But I hated the drugs except for pot. I can’t stand feeling so out of control. And the revolutionary thing … ” She heaved an annoyed sigh. “Apparently you can’t be a revolutionary if you come from money and aren’t ashamed of it.”
“Ashamed? Why were you supposed to be ashamed?”
“Beats me.” Katie smoothed the satin in her lap, careful to avoid the needle stuck through the hem. “Why should I be ashamed of the son of Scottish immigrants? A man who got an education — working the whole time, I might add — changed his name and built a successful business out of nothing? Ashamed? Pfft.”
“Sounds very up and up to me,” Maureen remarked. “Why’d your father change his name?”
“Just his last name,” Katie told her. “It used to be Urquhart.”
Maureen frowned. “What’s wrong with Urquhart?”
“Other than being hard to pronounce and impossible to spell, it also kind of sounds like a vomiting elephant. Anyway,” she continued over Maureen’s peals of laughter. “Besides the not liking drugs and do liking money, I was ridiculed for wanting a traditional family. The whole white picket fence scene. You know; the whole sitting down to dinner together every night, that kind of thing.” She bit her lip. “I never had it, so it’s kind of like a dream of mine. I don’t think that’s so bad.”
The look of surprise on Maureen’s face was so pronounced it was almost comical. “That’s it?” she exclaimed. “You were put down for that? What a bunch of wankers!”
A giggle shook Katie’s shoulders. “Wankers? I’m going to have to remember that.”
Maureen snickered. “It’s not a very nice word.”
“Even better. That means it’s the perfect description of those idiots.” A feeling of peace settled over Katie, the first time she’d felt that way since before her father’s sudden death. “Thanks,” she said with a soft smile. “The fact that you understand means a lot.”
“Any time. Now. Who’s the lucky guy?”
Katie looked up with a slight frown. “What guy?”
With a sigh, Maureen lifted her eyebrows. “If you’re going to have a family who sits down to dinner every night, I would assume there’s a husband at the head of the table.”
“Oh, that guy. Haven’t found him yet.” Katie sobered at Maureen’s casual use of the word “family,” something that wasn’t a possibility. She considered unburdening herself all the way to her new friend, but that subject was still too sore to bring up. Better to stick to the safe and familiar subject of men. “Not a lot of guys our age are into that these days.”
“You’ll find one,” Maureen stated. “There will be a lot of likely candidates at your housewarming, so you can start looking there. And if we get back to work and get this smashing little number finished, you’ll have them all panting at your barely covered arse.”
CHAPTER SIX
Instead of issuing any kind of formal invitation, Maureen put the word out on the street that there would be a monster housewarming for Katie Scott on the last night of September, with a plea for those planning to attend to bring their own drinkables and mind-altering substances. On the appointed evening they threw open the door of Katie’s flat at 7:00, and by 7:15 the place was packed.
Since Katie provided the venue, Maureen had supplied the decorations, a pink aluminum Christmas tree with twinkle lights. It sat in front of one of the windows overlooking the street where it radiated unseasonable cheer, surrounded by folding tables covered with bottles of ale, lager, beer and soda and bowls of potato chips and cookies that were denuded almost as soon as they were replenished.
Adam arrived soon after the appointed time with one of the many party guests Katie hadn’t yet met. A tall, muscular man with golden blond hair that just brushed his shoulders, he looked pouty and unreachable until he smiled. It transformed his face, his expression open and friendly, and Katie revised her first opinion.
Adam leaned down with a careless kiss on her cheek. “Katie, have you met Nicky?”
“Nicky Majors?” She smiled with delight. So this was Maureen’s crush. “I’ve heard of you.”
“You have?” Nicky looked startled. “Was it good?”
“Very,” Katie laughed. “I hear you’re one hell of a bass player. I can’t wait to hear you play.”
“Oh, that.” Nicky grinned. “Thank you. I hope I can live up to the hype.”
Katie didn’t need to smell Maureen’s perfume to know her friend stood behind her. She could almost hear Maureen’s heart beating above the record player. Grabbing Maureen’s wrist, she towed her forward.
“Nicky, have you met Maureen Smith?” At the shake of his head, she made quick introductions. “Nicky, Maureen. Maureen, Nicky.”
“Hallo, Nicky.” Maureen peered up at him through her lashes. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Deciding that if three was a crowd, then four was a mob, Katie took Adam by the hand and pulled him away from the couple.
“Where are we going?”
“Away from those two. Maureen’s been wanting to meet him, so I thought we should give them some privacy.”
Sudden understanding dawned on Adam’s face. “Oh, all right. Well, then.” He looked around and laughed. “Quite a good turnout.”
“No kidding.” Katie surveyed the room, recognizing only one person in ten. “I have no idea who most of them are.”
“That’s the point, then, isn’t it? Get to know some new people?”
“Yeah, I guess.” A look of dismay flashed across her face as she spied yet another empty bowl. “Oh, man. I guess I’d better go see if I have any more chips in the kitchen.”
“Chips?” Adam looked confused.
“Crisps, whatever.” Katie waved him away. “Go have fun and I’ll catch up to you later.”
An hour later, she still hadn’t gotten back to Adam. She weaved through the crowd, trying to remember names, when she spied a familiar face. What with the sheer number of people who had been in and out of the flat all night, Katie hadn’t even known Stuart was present, and she greeted him with pleasure. His unaffected Texas drawl was balm to her ears, much as she loved
British accents.
“Hey, you!” She gave Stuart a warm hug. “When did you get here?”
“Been here a while, hon.” Stuart kissed her forehead and released her. “’Course, it’s a little tight in here, if you know what I mean.”
“No kiddin’.” Just two sentences of Stuart’s accent and she was already dropping her g’s. Katie grinned. “Talk some more. I wanna hear some lingo.”
“Right on,” Stuart laughed. “Lemme see … how’s this?” He cleared his throat and turned the Texas up to full throttle. “Y’all … hot damn … cornbread.”
Katie burst into giggles, her amusement aided by the half of a joint she’d just smoked.
“What’s funny?” Maureen appeared at her side, cheeks flushed and an unnatural sparkle in her eye.
“Just Stuart,” Katie replied, her giggles tapering off.
“I should’ve known.” Maureen tossed Stuart a grin before turning halfway to speak to someone behind her. “Jay, have you met Katie?”
The name made Katie look up and her breath stopped. She’d seen lots of photos of Jay in fan magazines and on album covers over the past couple of years, but none of them did the least bit of justice to the flesh and blood man standing before her. His head was turned in profile as he said something to Nicky Majors, and Katie took the opportunity to gaze at him unimpeded.
Jay Carey had the face of an angel — a very naughty angel. The rounded cheeks, the chin with the slightest suggestion of a cleft and the long black hair that curled past his shoulders all gave him a look of innocence. Combined with his rather full lips, black brows and lashes, and the schoolboy smile he directed at Nicky, Katie would have sworn he had come right out of a Botticelli work of art. But when he focused those intense hazel eyes on her, she knew she’d been wrong. Nothing Botticelli ever did looked like that. Jay Carey didn’t have the eyes of an angel — he had the eyes of a god.
“Hello, Katie. I understand this is your flat we’ve invaded this evening?”
A little internal shiver of sheer delight went through her at the sound of his voice; she could almost feel it sliding over her skin like satin.
“It is. Welcome to my humble abode.” Mortification swept over her the minute the words left her mouth. Why had she said something so fucking inane? Humble abode? She could have taken the lager bottle from Nicky’s hand and bashed herself in the head with it. The thought of lager caused her to notice Jay’s elegant hands were empty. Not only was she spouting insipid platitudes, she was a terrible hostess as well. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked with a smile she hoped would make him forget about humble abodes.
His answering smile made her think she might just cease to live if he ever stopped. “A beer would be nice, if you’ve any left.”
Any left? A quick glance at the folding tables near the Christmas tree showed them denuded of all food and drink. Again.
“I think I can scare up a beer in the kitchen,” she told him. “Come with me.”
The kitchen was empty of people, leaving Katie certain that anything edible or drinkable had long since been consumed. She opened the refrigerator anyway, only to be met with a good imitation of the arctic tundra; all white and cold. With an interior sigh, she pulled out the vegetable drawer and rummaged under the bag of broccoli that had escaped pillaging and found one of the emergency beers she’d hidden there for Stuart. She held it up in triumph.
“That do you?” she asked Jay.
“Super,” he replied.
She opened the bottle and handed it to him before leaning against the kitchen counter. Jay took a long swallow and tipped the bottle in her direction. “Thank you.”
“No problem. So how’d your tour go?”
Jay grimaced. “It went. Glad to have that over and done.”
“Ready to move on to bigger and better things, hm?” Bigger and better things? What was wrong with her? She sounded like she was quoting from a really bad book of clichés, and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
To her immense relief, Jay didn’t seem to notice. “I suppose so.” He took another nip from the bottle. “I’d really like to take some time off before we get going, though. But I don’t think the lads out there would like that much.”
“What are they going to do? Revolt?” Katie grinned. “They’re not going anywhere without you, so take time off if you want.”
Jay gave her a sideways smile that somehow removed all the bones in her legs, leaving the kitchen counter her only support. “You know, you’re right. I really should.” He settled a hip against the counter next to her.
Katie admired the lean line of his throat revealed when he tilted his head back to take a drink. The overhead light glinted in the strands of his black hair like stars scattered across the night sky. A wayward curl slid over the blue silk of his shirt and she wondered if it was as soft as the material it laid against. Any other time she’d have stretched out her hand and satisfied her curiosity, but she didn’t dare. She was afraid if she ever got her hands in that hair she’d not be able to let go.
“You should. Just sleep late and laze around the house all day, right?”
“Well, no, not really. What I’d really like to do is … nah.”
Katie was fascinated by the flush of color that swept into his cheeks. “What?” she demanded, overcome by curiosity.
Jay cleared his throat as a sheepish smile curved his lips. “I’d been thinking about going to Scotland to look at castles.”
“Castles?” Katie’s eyebrows arched in amazement. “You mean just to look at them, or look to buy one?”
A low rumble of laughter shook Jay’s shoulders. “Just to look at them. Although I wouldn’t mind having a castle.” He shook his head at her. “And I know what you’re thinking.”
Katie wondered if that was true as her thoughts were edging over into X-rated territory. Her mind had already divested him of his shirt and was working on the button of his pants. If he did know what she was thinking, it would help move things along. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. You’re thinking Cinderella and drawbridges and moats. That’s not what I mean at all. Although … ” His eyes narrowed. “Come to think of it, it’d be kind of groovy to have a moat filled with all kinds of nasty creatures. But that’s not the kind of castle I meant.”
Interested, Katie leaned closer. “What other kind is there?”
“It’s more like … have you ever seen Castle Leod?”
Katie shook her head.
“It’s more like a rather grand house, though it does have turrets and gables and a parapet. But it’s … .here.” He reached past her for the pad of paper and pen she kept under the telephone.
As he brushed against her Katie was engulfed in his scent. Nothing — not the smell of fresh laundry, not the scent of lilacs blooming in spring, not even a big bowl of melted chocolate — smelled better than Jay Carey. The mixture of cigarette smoke, beer, a whiff of bourbon whisky and desirable musky male was intoxicating and sent her head reeling more than the weed she’d smoked earlier.
By the time she’d pulled herself back together enough to notice what was going on, Jay was bent over the pad of paper, sketching the rough outlines of a large, grandiose house. With only a few bold strokes of the pen, he managed to convey the grace and beauty of the building.
“You see,” he murmured. “Even though it’s a castle, it’s more like a home. Grand, but still welcoming.”
Katie leaned close to see better just as Jay flipped his hair over his shoulder. It brushed against Katie’s cheek and she bit back a moan. Oh yes, it was as soft as it looked; not silk, but satin. Luscious black satin, and she had to muster up every bit of willpower she possessed not to rub her face in it like a cat. She swallowed and focused her attention back to his drawing.
“You’re awfully good,” she told him. “The drawing. I can see what you mean about it not being all cold and forbidding.”
Jay glanced up at her, but his vision was turned inward, the hazel intens
ity of his eyes misted. “Thomaston Castle in Ayr is the one I’d really like. Or what’s left of it. It’s a total ruin now, take a ton of money to put right again.”
“What does it look like?” Katie breathed, hating to interrupt him.
The focus in Jay’s eyes sharpened and he smiled at her. “I’ve not been close to it, it’s on private property.” He straightened up and tossed the pen on his drawing. “You can see it from the road.” A small shrug dismissed Thomaston Castle. “I’m sorry. I’m boring you to tears, aren’t I?” His smile was rueful.
Katie’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, you’re not. Keep going.”
He regarded her a moment in silence. “You aren’t bored.” It was more a statement than a question.
Katie smiled and shook her head.
“There you are!”
Adam’s voice, full of false heartiness, forestalled any reply Katie might have made. Once again she had to repress the urge to snatch a lager bottle; this time she would have used it to bash his head. She turned to pick up the pad of paper and sighed in irritation.
“If you two hadn’t noticed, the party’s out there.” Adam cocked his head toward the front room, a big smile pasted on his face. “What’s so interesting in here?”
Jay drained the last of the beer from his bottle before replying. “Just talking architecture.”
Adam attempted to put an arm around Katie’s waist, but she executed a deft sidestep as she went to put the paper back under the phone. Adam caught a glimpse of Jay’s drawing as she moved past him.
“Castles again?” He snickered. “Don’t mind him, Katie. I think he has a Camelot complex.”
Jay’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I can think of worse afflictions.”
Katie regarded him, her head tilted to one side. “I don’t know,” she stated. “I can see him as King Arthur.”
Warmth replaced the guarded expression in Jay’s eyes as his smile widened. “It’s good to be king,” he said with an upward quirk of an eyebrow.
Funny how silly clichés didn’t sound inane when he said them.
“I’ll bet it is.” She gave him a sidelong smile as she left the kitchen.
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