Sweet Dream Lover

by Karen Sandler

  Now’s the time, Kat thought. Tell him it’s all a mistake. There is no Kandy for Kids campaign. No dinner planned for tonight.

  But the words stuck in her throat. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted, ached for a chance to see him, to be with him. Even with her parents there avidly looking on, even knowing the impossibility of a relationship between them.

  “Kat?” Mark’s voice caressed her ear, setting off a heat inside her.

  She glanced up at her father, although she knew she’d find no help there. He still chatted with Norma. But Fritz had fallen silent, his blue eyes on her. The intensity of his gaze surprised her. He must have sensed she was about to pull the brakes on the crazy train he’d set in motion.

  She should. She had to. But maybe it would be easier to go ahead with dinner, have them all meet so she could tell them all at once.

  “Papa Gianni’s,” Kat said finally, and saw Fritz relax. “Down on Pike Street?”

  “I know the place,” he said. And of course he would. He’d given her an engagement ring there.

  She dropped her face in her hand, tried to think. There were hundreds of restaurants in Seattle. There had to be one that wouldn’t generate a flood of memories. “Or maybe Rosie’s Café. That might be better.”

  “Papa Gianni’s.” His tone brooked no argument. “Should I make the reservation?”

  Kat sighed, acquiescing to the inevitable. “Thanks, no. Norma can do it. Eight o’clock?”

  “Fine.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you don’t mind. I invited my parents.”

  The words were innocent enough, but Kat caught the message behind them. His parents’ presence would be a buffer between them. He didn’t want to be alone with her. That made perfect sense, considering the volatility between them. But it hurt nonetheless.

  She forced a laugh. “No problem. Your parents apparently invited mine. And I’d planned to bring Norma and Fritz along as well.”

  Take that, Mark Denham. I wouldn’t want to be alone with you, either.

  If her ineffectual jab wounded him, you couldn’t tell it from his voice. “See you soon, then.” She held the phone to her ear a moment after he hung up, then set it down as she rose. “Norma, give Papa Gianni’s a call. Reservations at eight o’clock for ten people.”

  Her father returned to her side to give her another kiss. As he straightened, Kat grabbed his arm. In a low voice, she said, “We have to talk.” She looked significantly from her father to Fritz and back.

  “Not now, honeybunch.” He pulled away. “Patti’s in the Benz down in the parking garage. We’ll meet you at Papa Gianni’s.” Her father escaped.

  Norma out at her desk phoning the restaurant, Kat fixed her gaze on her cousin. “You’ve succeeded in turning my life upside down.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “I’m just trying to do my job, Kat.” Kat frowned.

  “I asked you not to do anything until we talked. And to force me to have dinner with my despicable ex-husband—”

  “Despicable?” Speculation glittered in his blue eyes. “If he’s so despicable, why is his picture still in your desk?”

  “Because I like to shoot darts at it,” she lied. “This Kandy for Kids campaign ends tonight. We’ll tell everyone it was a joke, or a mistake, or a misunderstanding. Whatever it takes to pull the reins in on this runaway horse. Then I’ll find something for you to do around here that will keep you out of trouble.”

  His smile faded, and for the first time, his expression grew serious. “I’m sorry, Kat. I don’t mean to be such a screw-up.”

  Kat could have kicked herself for hurting his feelings. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Norma returned and the somber moment might never have been. Fritz was full of smiles for Kat’s assistant, insisting he ride over to the restaurant with her, inveigling the car keys out of the older woman. Norma glowed; she probably would have given Fritz the whole car if he’d asked.

  Kat’s cousin escorted Norma out of the office, leaving Kat behind to gather up her purse and jacket and follow them in her own car. As she guided her Camry along Interstate 5 toward Pike Street, she contemplated her assistant’s burgeoning adoration for Fritz.

  Norma had been an extended member of the Roth family for years. Her philandering ex-husband had been a longtime employee of Roth before he danced off into the sunset with his sweet young thing. Because of the Roths’ close association with the Denhams, Norma had literally watched Fritz grow up. In fact, if Kat weren’t mistaken, Norma might have changed the infant Fritz’s diaper a time or two.

  So what could have possessed Norma to show such interest in Hurricane Fritz? Kat hoped she wasn’t setting herself up for another heartache. She’d had enough hurt in her life without taking another blow from a man, even a young pup like Fritz.

  As she pulled into Papa Gianni’s crowded parking lot, she decided she had enough troubles without borrowing Norma’s. Her assistant would just have to watch out for her own heart. It was enough for Kat to keep hers out of peril.

  * * * * *

  It had been less than a ten-minute wait between Mark’s arrival at the restaurant and Kat’s appearance, but it seemed to extend into an eternity. First there was the interminable welcome from Gianni Giancarlo, ecstatic to see the Denhams and Roths together again in his establishment. Then the conga line through the restaurant to the back banquet room where Mr. Giancarlo had set up a private table. Finally the juggling at the table, as his parents and the Roths played musical chairs in an effort to seat him next to Kat.

  The older folks’ maneuvering shredded nerves already rattled by his anticipation of seeing Kat. When he couldn’t take it anymore, Mark grabbed a chair at the head of the table and lowered himself into it, leaving the rest of them to figure out the seating.

  So he had his back turned toward her when she finally entered, had only the warning of Phil Roth’s smile when he spied his daughter. Mark forced himself to sit still, ready to rise to seat her next to him when she reached the table. But she walked right past him to the other end.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her smile seeming to include everyone but him. “Would you all mind moving down?” She gestured to the side of the table with the empty seat. “I need to sit next to Norma.”

  He should object, should insist she sit next to him. But the sight of Kat’s face rendered him speechless, the heart shape, her soft eyes the exact color of dark chocolate. Her body might be camouflaged by the baggy gray suit, but he knew its every line, every warm curve.

  Before he could think to protest, they had all shifted around, his father moving to stretch his long legs out to Mark’s right, his mother next to his dad, then his cousin and finally Norma. Kat settled herself opposite Mark, her parents and stepparents to her right.

  She might have thought it safe to position herself so far away. But despite the length of the table, despite the dense foot- high centerpiece of dried flowers half-hiding her, he could feel the attraction between them, palpable and enticing.

  When had he seen her last? Not counting earlier today, when he’d caught only a glimpse. Two months maybe, when they’d both turned up at the pre–Valentine’s Day Chocolate Affair. She’d been manning Roth Confectionery’s booth, her attention focused on pouring coffee liqueur into tiny cups made of white chocolate. She’d spilled some of the dark liquid on her thumb and then sucked it off, sending a sudden erotic shock straight through him. He’d remembered all too clearly licking the sweet dark liqueur from her breasts in a night of particularly wild lovemaking. He’d had to back away, leave the event, making excuses to the organizers.

  Now she sat six feet from him, her gaze locked with his. She couldn’t possibly know what ran through his mind, how even in this crowded restaurant he ached for her. Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly, and it was all he could do to suppress a groan.

  Then she broke eye contact, grabbing up her menu and ducking behind it. He ought to feel relief, but instead tension zinged along his spine. Lord, why was nothing ever
easy with Kat?

  “So, what are the specials tonight?” she asked, her breathy voice sending fingers of sensation up Mark’s spine.

  Everyone around the table spoke at once, reeling off the list Mr. Giancarlo had recited. The noise flowed around him as he stared down the table at the back of Kat’s menu, waiting for her to lower it. She must have sensed him; her hands trembled where they gripped the laminated cardboard. When the table talk drifted into a discussion of what each person planned to order, it was all Mark could do to keep from striding down the length of the table and plucking the menu from Kat’s hands.

  She closed it finally, laying it carefully on the table. Mark watched her speak alternately to Norma on her left and her father on her right. She managed to turn her head from side to side without her gaze ever passing over him.

  Annoyance nibbled at Mark. Damned if he’d let her avoid him. “So, Kat,” he called out down the table. Conversation immediately died on either side. For a moment Kat kept her head averted to her father, then she turned to Mark, her chin tipping up slightly. Mark cleared his throat. “Who have you lined up for the scull race?”

  * * * * *

  As if the strain of sharing the same room at the same time with Mark Denham wasn’t enough, now he had to lob entirely nonsensical questions at her. “The scull race.”

  Mark kept his intense green gaze on her, a look of disapproval on his face. “The business sponsors. And the participants. Who have you got lined up so far?”

  No one, of course, because until that instant, she didn’t know anything about a scull race. She glanced at Fritz; he just gave her a shrug and a sheepish grin. “Uh...” Tell him the truth. Before you’re dug in any deeper. But now everyone at the table—parents, stepparents, former in-laws—had their eyes on her.

  And Mark, who all by himself could empty her brain of intelligence. Somehow, under his steady regard, she couldn’t quite squeeze the truth out of her mouth. She flicked a hand in a negligent gesture. “We haven’t quite pinned everyone down.”

  “Haven’t quite...” Mark seemed to bite off the words. His parents, her parents, Norma and Fritz all swiveled their heads back toward him. “The scull race is scheduled for Mother’s Day, less than a month off. Sounds like you haven’t managed even a modicum of organization for this fund-raising effort.”

  As the ping-pong game returned to her end, Kat felt her hackles rise in automatic response to Mark’s tone. “Kandy for Kids is organized. I just haven’t nailed down all the details.” What the hell was she doing? She was defending something that didn’t even exist!

  Mark leaned back in his chair. “Then it’s a good thing you brought Denham in on this. Now you at least have a hope of pulling it off.”

  Reaching for the empty wineglass at her place, Kat curled her fingers around its stem. Ten, nine, eight, seven... “We included Denham Candy strictly for public relations purposes. If you can’t be a team player, maybe we ought to reconsider.”

  Kat’s father gripped her wrist. “Honey, Mr. Giancarlo needs to take our order. You two kids can talk about this during dinner.”

  Finger by finger, Kat unwrapped her hand from the wineglass. Papa Gianni stood beside Mark, order pad at the ready. She’d so narrowed her focus on her ex-husband, she hadn’t even seen the restaurant owner enter the room.

  As the jabbering resumed around the table, everyone seeming to give their order at once, Kat strove to gather her wits around her again. She shot a glance at Fritz, who returned a guileless look, his lips curving into a smile. He seemed completely unrepentant at the havoc he had wreaked in Kat’s life.

  When Mr. Giancarlo stopped at her seat to take her order, Kat picked an item almost randomly off the menu. She’d wait until the restaurant owner had finished, then she’d get everyone’s attention to make her announcement. Maybe instead of declaring Kandy for Kids a figment of Fritz’s imagination, she’d tell them, regretfully, that the program seemed unfeasible, considering how difficult it would be for Roth and Denham to work together. She’d keep it congenial and impersonal, express her respect for the Denhams, thank them all for coming, but it just ain’t gonna work, baby.

  No need to mention the hunka-hunka burning lust she still felt for her ex-husband.

  But once the orders were finished, a waiter immediately appeared with bottles of the house red, compliments of Papa Gianni’s. Then the fussing over corkscrews and tasting and serving the wine. Once every glass had been filled with the crimson Chianti, Kat had to endure toast after toast to the Denhams and Roths and Kandy for Kids.

  As she sipped her wine, Mark watched her from the other end of the table. Where earlier she had done her best to ignore him, now she felt she had something to prove. If he intended to keep his eyes on her throughout dinner, she’d damn well return the favor. Never mind the tumult of emotions mixing with the wine inside her, never mind the powerful erotic memories evoked by his presence.

  After the wine came the salads, then the soup, then the entrée. Eating her meal gave her the excuse to look somewhere other than at Mark, giving her a breathing spell from the unwanted connection between her and her ex-husband. She conversed with those at her end of the table, Norma and Fritz, her father and stepmother Patti. She dimly heard Mark’s end of the table brainstorming the Kandy for Kids campaign, throwing out ideas at a breakneck pace.

  Although she refused to look at him, Kat’s awareness of Mark never ceased. She knew each time he looked her way, could feel the weight of his gaze as real as a touch.

  When the zuppa inglese arrived, Kat thought she would scream from the tension. That or take Fritz by the scruff of his scrawny neck and shake him to relieve her anxiety. Instead she cut a corner off the rich rum-soaked sponge cake with her fork and slipped the bite into her mouth. A bit of custard filling slipped and she had to lick it from her lips. Then she made the huge mistake of glancing up at Mark.

  She froze, the tip of her tongue still out. She read his face as clearly as the pages of a steamy romance novel, saw every sensual image that danced through his mind. Damnably, the images burst inside her as well, the exact sensation of his tongue skimming across her lips, dipping inside, tangling with her own. His breathing growing hoarser as his arousal increased, his eyes dilating with passion as they stared into hers.

  Good God, what was she doing? She jerked back as if to break the link between them. Her fork went flying and as she grabbed for it, her hand struck the wine bottle at her end of the table. As it wobbled in place, Fritz lunged across the centerpiece to right the bottle, but he only made matters worse. It took Kat’s last-minute nab to keep Norma’s lap from being doused with wine.

  Fritz blushed deep red as he lowered himself again. As everyone around the table congratulated her on saving the wine bottle, Kat puzzled over Fritz’s reaction. Usually he was oblivious to his klutz attacks.

  Kat picked up her spoon to finish her dessert, but her appetite had fled. Pushing the luscious cake back from her, she sagged back in her chair. It wasn’t until the check arrived and everyone at the table started bickering over who had the honor of paying it that Kat roused herself.

  This was her last opportunity to call an end to this folly. As her father and Ian Denham played tug-of-war with the bill across the table, Kat rose and called out, “Excuse me.”

  They ignored her. Clearing her throat, she yelled more loudly, “Excuse me!”

  Still no response. Mary Denham had started arguing her husband’s case, her soft voice lost in the din. Tamping down her frustration, Kat put two fingers to her mouth and with all the lung power she possessed, gave out a shrill warning whistle. It cut through the cacophony, quieting the room.

  “This has really gone far enough,” she said, her gaze passing from one face to the next. She forced herself to look at Mark exactly as long as she did each of the others. “I can’t let this go on a moment longer.”

  Nine expectant faces turned toward her. Their emotions seemed transparent. Her parents’ love, Ian and Mary Denham’s car
ing, Norma’s kindness. Mark’s barely veiled heat. And Fritz seemed to plead with her, to beg her for...what?

  She returned her gaze to Mark. She could see the challenge in his eyes, like a schoolboy goading her. I dare you, Katarina. I double-dare you.

  That alone decided her. Not Fritz’s plea, or her parents’ and in-laws’ enthusiasm for the project. Not even the potential for good that Kandy for Kids could bring.

  Mark tipped the scales with his silent taunt. Double-dare you back, Mark Denham, she answered him in her mind. Quadruple-dare you.

  “This has gone far enough,” she said again. She leaned over the table and plucked the check from Ian’s and her father’s hands. “This is Roth’s party. And Roth is paying for it.” Reaching down for her purse, she pulled out her corporate credit card, dropped it and the check on the plastic tray. A few moments later, Mr. Giancarlo appeared to take it to the register.

  They all shuffled toward the door, Norma and Fritz with their heads together, thick as thieves, the older folks in animated conversation. Kat felt a hand on her shoulder and knew immediately it was Mark’s. She lurched to a stop, sudden tension singing through her.

  She looked back over her shoulder and wondered why all the oxygen had vacated the room. He stared at her, the silence charged by his touch. If he didn’t let go soon and disengage his compelling blue gaze, she just might reach melting point and puddle to the floor like tempered chocolate.

  She shifted, turning toward him, and Mark finally dropped his hand. Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Yes?”

  If he didn’t stop looking at her mouth, she’d have to smack him. Or put him in a lip lock. He blinked, as if remembering how to speak. “It’s a great idea. Kandy for Kids, that is.”

  She wriggled her shoulders a bit, but couldn’t quite shake off Mark’s touch. “It was Fritz’s idea actually.”

  “Right.” He rocked back on his heels. “I just...”

  His gaze had drifted back down to her mouth. She had to resist the urge to fan herself with her baggy jacket to siphon off the heat. “You just?” she prompted.