by Diana Palmer
Kate was out of the intensive care unit by early the next day. But only Tom was allowed in to see her. He didn’t have the heart to tell Jacob that Kate had almost had hysterics at just the mention of the older man’s name. Letting him into her room had been out of the question.
But at the end of the second day, Jacob asked about it. And Tom took a deep breath and told him the truth.
Jacob hadn’t really expected her to remember what he’d said to her in the intensive care unit. In a way, it was a relief, because he’d been vulnerable with her, and that irked him. He’d let his guard down. But never again. So she didn’t want him to visit. Well, they’d see.
He sat back down in the waiting room, picking up a copy of Field and Stream to thumb through.
“Jacob, you did understand what I said?” Tom asked hesitantly.
“I understood. But she’ll see me sooner or later, if I have to sit here until hell freezes over.” He smiled vaguely in Tom’s direction and kept reading.
“Why do you want to?”
Jacob didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”
“Terrific answer,” Tom mumbled as he walked away.
Jacob looked after him with dark, troubled eyes. How could he have confided to Tom that he had to know if Kate was pregnant? With a heavy sigh, he stared blankly down at the magazine. And maybe it was more than that. He wanted to see her moving, see her eyes open, even if they were filled with hatred. He wanted to see for himself that she was all right before he left town. He’d have to go back soon. Work was piling up. But right now, Kate was what mattered the most.
When Tom went back into the room, she was propped up in bed, still a little drowsy from the medication, favoring the left side of her rib cage, which was bandaged. They’d made a small incision about six-inches long beside the bullet hole for the exploratory surgery. It was held together by staples, of all things, and it was sore, like her broken rib. There hadn’t been anything they could do about her rib, but they would put her in a rib belt when the drainage tube came out in three or four days, and that would hold it in place until it healed.
“He won’t go home,” Tom said from the doorway, smiling. “He says he’ll sit there until hell freezes over or until you decide to talk to him, whichever comes first.”
Kate stared at her hands on the sheet, trying to ignore the wild beating of her heart. Jacob’s stubbornness was unexpected. But why should he want to see her? She thought of the hundred-dollar bill and was surprised at how much the memory hurt, despite all that had happened in the meantime.
“He may have a long wait,” she said drowsily. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
Tom took the chair beside her bed and sat down. She did look like hell, he thought. She was pale and drawn, and her dark hair had no luster at all. Her lips were faintly cracked with dryness and her eyes were deep-shadowed with pain and fatigue. But, then, Jacob didn’t look much better himself. He frowned.
“Kate, what’s going on?” he asked gently.
Her thin eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”
“Something happened between you and Jacob. He’s been like a wild man since you got shot. Bud Schuman came into the waiting room and it took three of us to keep Jacob from killing him.”
Surprise after surprise, she thought numbly. She stared at her brother with wide, curious eyes. “Jacob did?”
“He sat with you in the intensive care unit, too,” he added quietly. “I don’t know what he said, but apparently they think whatever it was helped get you back on the right track.”
She shifted, grimacing. “I don’t remember.”
“I guess not. You were pretty much out of it about then. Thank God for modern medicine and the sign that slowed the bullet down a little before it hit you.”
“It wasn’t Bud’s fault,” she said.
“You’re the only person with that particular point of view,” he assured her. “Winthrop threatened to fire him, and he wasn’t too pleased with himself, either.”
“Did someone get the story?”
“You were the story,” he replied. “Front page and a banner headline.”
“I told you I’d get the front page one day,” she smiled wanly.
“What a heck of a way to go about it,” he said with a grin. He leaned forward, holding her hand. “Jacob hurt you somehow, is that it?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes and smile. “We had a horrible argument,” she said, then added, “which I don’t want to discuss.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, you don’t have to worry about having him make sarcastic remarks about your morals anymore, at least. I set him straight. I told him everything.”
She went two shades paler and her heart stopped beating. “What did he say?” she asked in a whisper.
“He didn’t say anything, actually.” He studied her face. “He went as white as you just did and the one glimpse I got of his eyes was enough.” He paused for a minute. “Yes, I know, Kate, we agreed that we’d never tell anyone. But Jacob isn’t anyone. And you love him.”
Her eyes widened, darkened. “Oh, Tom, you didn’t tell him that, did you?” she asked, and her whole expression was pleading.
She’d been through enough already, he thought, and Jacob wouldn’t mention it. Why make it worse? “Would I tell him something like that?” he said, evading the question.
“I hope you wouldn’t,” she replied. “I don’t have a lot of pride left.”
“He’ll sit there for a week if he has to, you know,” Tom said after a minute.
She stared at him without speaking. He didn’t know why Jacob wanted to see her, but she did. And because she did, she gave in, fighting the nervousness and apprehension she felt at having to see Jacob again.
“All right,” she said. “Let him come in. But only for five minutes.”
He smiled. “Be right back.”
Kate sat and watched the door, her eyes unnaturally wide, her face even whiter and more strained than it had been. And minutes later, the door opened slowly and she bit her lip to keep from crying. Jacob had hurt her terribly, and not just physically. Over and over again, she’d heard his bitter words, felt the cold rustle of that hundred-dollar bill he’d put in the towel against her breasts. It was all she could do not to break down at just the sight of him.
Chapter 6
It was impossible to look into those dark eyes. After one quick glance at his rigid features, she averted her gaze to his boots. Gray boots, highly polished, crafted with expensive hand-tooled leather, they matched the hat dangling idly from his lean hand. A Stetson, too; she recognized the distinct JBS-initialed silver pin and feather hatband decoration of the true Stetson. Jacob never wore any other kind of hat.
“How are you?” he asked as he approached the bed.
Her heart pounded wildly, her breath caught in her dry throat. “They say I’ll be fine in about six weeks or so.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He was much too close. She could smell the particularly spicy brand of after-shave he wore, and a faint leathery scent on top of it. He was wearing a dark blue suit, and she hated noticing how it flattered his dark complexion.
“I hurt,” she said curtly.
“Yes, I know, Kate.”
Surely that note in his voice wasn’t tenderness. But she had to look and see, and the minute she lifted her eyes, his dark ones trapped them.
“You’re still pale, but at least you’re conscious this time,” he murmured.
“What do you want, Jacob?” she asked tersely.
“To see for myself that you’re healing properly.” His dark eyes dropped to the sheet her slender hands were clutching. “You came close to the edge.”
“I’ll be all right. You can stop feeling guilty. I’m tough.”
He smiled faintly. “You’ve had to be, haven’t you?” he asked, and his eyes held new knowledge of her.
“Tom shouldn’t have told you,” she returned. She felt shaky inside, having him know
about the past. “I’ve never even talked to Margo about it.”
“You do realize that if I’d known, I’d never have made any snap judgments about you, despite the circumstances?” he asked gently.
“You enjoy thinking the worst of me.”
He shrugged. “I guess it seemed that way to you.” He twirled the hat in his fingers and stared at her for a long moment.
“I’m not pregnant,” she told him bluntly, flushing a little as she guessed correctly the question he was about to ask. “That should make you very happy.”
He pulled up the chair beside the bed and sat down in it slowly. He crossed his legs and rested the hat on one knee. His hand automatically reached for a cigarette and just as quickly withdrew without it. Her lung hadn’t completely inflated. The tube, which was still draining fluid out of the lung they’d operated on, wouldn’t come out until the X rays showed that the lung was fully inflated again, or so the surgeon had told him and Tom.
“Babies shouldn’t be made that way,” he said finally, leaning back to watch her reaction. “Not out of a man’s blind passion and selfish motives. I know you hate my guts, Kate, and I don’t blame you. The way I treated you that night was unforgivable. If it helps, I’ll never get over handing you that hundred-dollar bill. I haven’t slept an entire night since.”
She lowered her eyes to the high polish of his boots and felt her body tremble with reaction as the memory came washing over her. Jacob, touching her, kissing her, his body rigid with passion…
“I don’t want to remember,” she whispered fiercely.
He knew why, too, and just barely escaped a heated reply. But God knew, she was entitled to a little retribution. He’d hurt her terribly that night. He dropped his hat on the floor and leaned forward. “Come home with me, Kathryn.”
Her body stiffened convulsively under the sheet. “What?”
“You can’t stay by yourself in Chicago. Tom’s got to go back to work in a few days. You won’t have anybody to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said tightly. “Thank you just the same.”
He got up, towering over her, his eyes deeply troubled as he reached down and took her hand in his, refusing to let go even when she tried to withdraw it.
“Don’t fight me,” he said tautly. “I’m all too aware that I helped put you here. At least let me try to make up for it in the only way I can.”
Her face felt hot. She stared at his white shirt, hating her own embarrassment and shame. Her eyes closed. “Go away, Jacob.”
“A bullet might be kinder than sending me away.”
She frowned and opened her eyes to stare up at him. He didn’t look as if he were kidding. His face showed nothing of what he felt, but his eyes were haunted.
“I have to do something, Kate,” he said quietly. “I know you hate me, but—”
“Oh, no,” she said. Her eyes ran over his dark face like hands. “No, it isn’t…hatred.” She lowered her gaze to the strong hand holding hers. “It isn’t even completely your fault. I could have stopped you if I’d told you the truth. I knew that. But there had been too many years of antagonism. I was too embarrassed to talk to you about my hang-ups, and afterward…” The color blazed in her face. “I wanted to die,” she whispered, and the tears stung her eyes suddenly. “I’m so ashamed.”
“Kate.” There was an anguished tone in his voice. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm hotly, hungrily. “Honey, don’t. Please don’t.”
She turned her face into the pillow and the tears flooded down her cheeks. He bent over her, his free hand gently smoothing her hair, his lips touching her forehead, her eyebrows, her closed eyes. She smelled him, could almost taste him. No, she thought, he felt only pity and guilt for her, and she didn’t want those emotions from him.
“No,” she pleaded. Her eyes opened, wide and dark green, frightened eyes that had a hunted look. “Jacob, I don’t want—”
He put a long finger across her pale lips. His eyes searched hers much too intensely. “Kate, I’ve never tried to be gentle,” he said hesitantly, as if he were finding the words with difficulty. “I’m not even sure I know how. Don’t push me away before I get started.”
“I don’t want pity,” she whispered tearfully.
“Neither do I,” he whispered back. He traced her lips with his finger, fascinated by the way they pursed at the light movement. “Do you like that?” he asked absently.
She had to hold on to her pride. She had to remember how horrible he’d been to her. His finger tracing her lips was making it difficult to think.
“Yes, you do like it, don’t you?” he breathed. He bent his dark head and watched her eyes close helplessly as his lips brushed with aching tenderness over hers. His nose brushed against her cheek as he nuzzled her face with his.
“Jacob,” she protested, but it was more moan than objection.
He brought her hand to his hard cheek and pressed it there, palm down, savoring its soft coolness. “I want my hundred-dollar bill back.”
It was the last thing, the very last thing, she’d expected him to say. Her eyes flew open, astonished.
“You heard me.” He nibbled her thumb sensually, his dark eyes watching her. “And I take back every damned insulting remark I’ve ever made. Would you like to know why I insulted you like that with money, Kate?”
“I…because I ran from you, I guess,” she faltered.
He shook his head. “You hurt my pride,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to believe you were innocent. I hurt you, but I didn’t realize it. I was convinced that you were experienced and that I hadn’t measured up to your other men.”
Her lips parted helplessly. “I…didn’t realize,” she whispered. “Did you, really?”
Incredible, the way it felt to talk to her like this. His blood felt as if it contained bubbles. He’d never admitted such a thing before. But honesty with Kate was easier than he’d expected. She didn’t snap or use sarcasm or make wild accusations.
He actually smiled, and his smile was genuine. “I did, really.”
Her eyes fell to his chest. She wanted to explain to him why she’d said what she did, what she’d been feeling. But she was painfully shy with him now, and the memory alone was enough to embarrass her.
He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “Do you know, I’ve never come closer to an apology in my life.”
She smiled faintly. “I never expected one.”
“I’m a hard case, Kate. I’ll break before I bend an inch. That’s the truth. I can’t change.”
As his lips touched her forehead, she felt a sense of amazement. This couldn’t be Jacob. Perhaps she was dreaming. Or in a coma. Or dead.
Her eyes lifted to his, soft with tenderness, and he caught his breath. Yes, she loved him, all right. Apparently love endured anything, if that aching sweetness in her eyes was anything to go by. With his fingers, he touched her mouth, fascinated by it, by that radiance that chased away all the shadows, all the pain. She loved him.
He frowned, because he still wasn’t sure that he wanted to be loved. But she was different from his usual kind of woman; a new experience. He’d grown jaded, cynical about women. They only wanted his money or a good time. But here was Kate, whom he’d known half her life, and suddenly sex was something profound and he didn’t want anyone else.
“You look stunned,” she remarked curiously. “Are you all right?”
He shifted, standing up straight, although his hand retained possession of hers. “I don’t know.”
“What is it?”
He scowled down at her, searching her face, her eyes. He’d been less wary while she was unconscious, when he was faced with the possibility of losing her forever. Now, with the obstacles out of the way, the old fears were back. Kate wasn’t the kind of woman a man played around with. If he started anything with her now, he’d have to finish it. That meant marriage and kids—responsibilities he’d always thought of in the distant future, not t
he present. Kate loved him. But did he want that?
She didn’t understand the sudden shift in his attitude. He’d gone away without moving a muscle. And then it dawned on her: He was afraid she’d die and he’d have her on his conscience. Now he was feeling relief and guilt and a little shame, and he was already regretting his impulsive offer. Jacob didn’t want anything permanent; he’d made that clear the night he seduced her.
She felt an overwhelming sadness. He didn’t want anything from her except to be forgiven for what he’d said and done. That was all. She might love him, but he had nothing to give her. She stared up at him quietly. Well, at least he didn’t know how she felt. That was the only consolation she had. And she wouldn’t let him know, either.
“It’s all right,” she said unexpectedly, and forced a smile. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll be fine. I think I’ll go to New York with Tom. I can stay in his apartment while I’m getting back on my feet.”
She said it too quickly. He saw immediately what she was trying to do. It hurt him that she cared enough to put his comfort above her own, even when she needed him so desperately. She didn’t want to go to New York, but she didn’t feel welcome at Warlance.
“You’re reading me wrong, Kate,” he said quietly. “I’m not thinking of ways to back out of the invitation.”
She flushed. “You seemed uncomfortable about it,” she replied.
“I’m uncomfortable about a lot of things lately.” He looked and sounded tired. Dead tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked as worn as he felt. All that waiting. Tom hadn’t been alone; Jacob had been with him every step of the way.
“You need sleep,” she said abruptly.
“Do I?” He stuck his hands in his pockets and stood beside the bed, looking down at her pale, quiet face. “You need it more.”
“I don’t sleep well,” she confessed. “I keep hearing the bullets.”
“All the more reason to get out of the city for a while. You can’t work for several weeks. You’d probably go crazy in your apartment.” He pursed his lips. “Come with me. I’ll build you a greenhouse.”