by Sandra Field
He kept these two compartments of his life completely separate. He didn’t invite Katrin up to his office or to have lunch with any of his staff; he didn’t bring work home from the office. This arrangement worked fine for him. Sex with Katrin—living with Katrin—might be a form of divine madness. But the rest of his life was totally under control. Just as it should be.
When they’d been together almost two weeks, he was driving up the street toward his house after work when he screeched to a halt. The front garden, attractively landscaped with cacti and ornamental grasses, had been taken over by a flock of large, supremely ugly, pink plastic flamingos. In the middle of them a large white sign said, Happy Birthday, Luke.
He stared at them, torn between laughter and something akin to panic. He never made a deal of his birthday. His father, as far as he could tell, had never really wanted him; certainly his mother hadn’t. So why celebrate a day that was completely meaningless?
Somehow Katrin had found out that today was his birthday.
He didn’t like her knowing even that smallest of secrets.
Luke parked in the driveway and walked up to the front door. Each flamingo sported a white satin bow around its neck, and had long black lashes painted over demurely downcast eyes. Where in heaven’s name had she found anything so tacky?
He unlocked the front door. She came out of the kitchen, wearing loose cotton pants and an apple green shirt, her hair in a long braid down her back. “Happy birthday,” she said jauntily.
“I hope you’re only renting those ornithological disasters.”
She pouted. “You don’t like them?”
He grinned; how could he help it? “You’re lowering the tone of the neighborhood.”
“The neighborhood’s too stuffy by far. Be glad I didn’t choose purple pandas.”
“I never told you when my birthday was.”
“Your driver’s licence fell out of your wallet one day. I saw the date when I picked it up. Come into the kitchen.”
The kitchen ceiling was aquiver with helium balloons. A birthday cake, one side sagging slightly, was sitting on the counter; it bristled with candles. Katrin reached in the refrigerator, took out a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and expertly blew the cork. She poured two glasses, passing one to Luke. “To celebrate the fact that you were born,” she said.
The bubbles prickled his nose. “Did you make the cake?”
“I did. I’m no pro when it comes to cakes. But first we’re going out for dinner. My treat. The dress code’s casual.”
Half an hour later, Luke saw why. She took him to Chinatown; arm in arm, they strolled the busy streets, past tea houses, flashing neon signs, roofs shaped like pagodas, and tiny grocery stores crammed with Chinese vegetables. In the narrow alleys, wind chimes vied with the clatter of mah-jongg tiles, the air pungent with joss sticks. The restaurant Katrin had chosen was small and intimate; the pot stickers and Cantonese-style bass were the best Luke had ever eaten.
Afterward, they went home and had cake; then Katrin, without much difficulty, seduced him. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she murmured, “Did you enjoy your birthday?”
“I did,” Luke said, and discovered to his surprise that this was true. “When do the flamingos fly south?”
“Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
“Good,” he said, and in a surge of tenderness kissed her cheek. “Good night, darling Katrin,” he whispered.
But she was asleep.
Early in the morning two days later, Katrin and Luke were sitting on the balcony drinking coffee and reading the papers. She passed him another slice of toast and said casually, “I’m coming downtown later on today, can I drop into your office to say hello? I’d like to see where you work.”
Luke glanced up from the headlines. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“No?”
Her blue eyes were looking straight at him. Refusing to back down, Luke said, “I like to keep business just that—business. Nothing to do with what goes on here, in the house. I’ve always kept the two separate, this is nothing to do with you personally.”
She bit her lip. “Work is a big part of your life. It pays for everything we do. I’d like to know more about it.”
“I’ve told you about some of my latest deals.”
“I’d like to meet your staff. Joe and Lindy and the rest.”
“No, Katrin,” Luke said, restlessly shuffling the newspaper. “You met some of my friends at the charity ball, that’s enough.”
Small flags of temper stained her cheeks. “You told me once you’ve never been married. Have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
“Have you ever wanted children?”
“No.”
“Have you ever lived with someone? Other than me.”
“No.”
“What’s so special about me, Luke?”
He could feel his own temper rising. “Do we have to dissect what’s going on? Why can’t we just let it be?”
“I’ll tell you why. Because you’re virtually a stranger to me. Sure, I know your body as I know my own, and you’ve freed my sexuality for the first time in my life. Both those things are hugely important and utterly wonderful. But other than that, you’re an unknown quantity. There isn’t a single personal photograph in this house, I know nothing about your past, where you come from, what made you the way you are. It’s as though the past doesn’t exist for you.”
“It’s irrelevant. What happens here and now is what’s important.”
“I want to know more about you!”
“Then you’re out of luck.”
“You know a great deal about me. I’ve talked to you about my parents, my disastrous marriage, the trial. Why can’t you reciprocate?” She suddenly paled. “Did you do something terrible? Is that what it is?”
“Stop it, Katrin!” he exploded. “I’m not a criminal, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then tell me!”
“You want all of me, don’t you?” he said bitterly. “You can’t be satisfied with what you’ve got.”
“I want the whole man. Not just the lover.”
He pushed back his chair, flinging the paper on the table. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for work.”
She stood up too, her slim body in its silk robe limned by the early sun. “You’re going to Dallas the day after tomorrow, on business. Take me with you…I can easily amuse myself in the daytime.”
“It’s only for four days. There’s plenty here for you to amuse yourself with.”
“But I want to be with you.”
“No,” he said in a hard voice, pulled the glass door open and ran upstairs to finish dressing. What was the matter with her? Their life together was perfect. Why did she have to go messing around with it? Spoiling it?
But by late afternoon, when it was time for him to head home, Luke was aware of an uneasy mixture of guilt and compunction. He hadn’t changed his mind about Dallas. But he could have phrased his refusal rather more diplomatically. And wasn’t the incredible physical closeness between him and Katrin far more significant than a disagreement about something as silly as a business trip? On impulse he stopped off at Union Square, choosing after some thought an Italian gold filigree bracelet and matching earrings. He had them boxed and wrapped, then drove home.
Katrin was in the kitchen. She was an erratic cook, rarely satisfied to leave a recipe as it was; tonight’s shrimp salad, however, looked entirely successful. He said casually, “I bought you a present.”
She put down the paring knife. Staring at the elegantly wrapped package in his hand, she said in a strained voice, “Please, Luke, will you take me to Dallas?”
“I already said no. Aren’t you going to open this?”
“I don’t want presents. I want you. All of you.”
“I’m getting tired of saying no.”
“Then try yes for a change.”
“Yes, you’re being unreasonable and dema
nding. Yes, you’re ruining what we’ve got by hankering after more.”
“Are you saying I’m greedy?” Katrin snapped.
“I’d be willing to bet that what we share upstairs in the bedroom is fifty times better than most couples on this block. But are you satisfied? No, you’re not. If I give you the moon, you’ll want the stars. If I give you the stars, you’ll want the whole universe.”
Her voice rose. “That’s not true. Just because I want to know more about you doesn’t make me into some kind of insatiable monster.”
Luke tossed the box on the counter. “I really hate coming home from work and having a fight before I even have the chance to take my tie off.”
“Would you rather I pretend everything’s wonderful when it’s not? When I’m unhappy?”
Unhappy. Hastily Luke buried this word deep in his psyche. “I’d rather you stopped being a romantic dreamer. This is real life, Katrin. Real life has limits and boundaries. I’m not some sort of hero you can shape to fit your own ends.”
“Are all men alike?” she flashed. “Donald wanted a cipher for a wife. Someone who kept the house running smoothly, who could act as a hostess for his friends. Someone to warm his bed when he remembered to get into it. And like a fool, I fell for it. Don’t get me wrong, Luke—in most ways you’re totally different from Donald. But you want me to fit a certain mold, too. Be your mistress but not your wife. Share your body but not your soul.” Her eyes were as adamant as sapphires. “You’ve got the wrong woman.”
“I’m beginning to think I have,” he said.
She drew in her breath sharply, as though he’d physically hit her. “I’m going for a walk,” she muttered, grabbed the spare key from the ring by the door and ran from the kitchen.
Luke didn’t run after her. Discovering he’d been gripping the edge of the counter so hard his fingertips were white, he made a huge effort to relax. He’d been so careful all his life to choose women who wanted nothing more of him than he was willing to give. But with Katrin, he’d blown it.
She wanted all of him.
There was no way she would get it.
Luke was just starting to worry when he heard Katrin unlock the front door. He came out of the den, where he’d been watching some mindless TV, more relieved to see her than he was going to admit to himself or her. Hadn’t he been wondering if she’d taken the first flight north?
He said noncommittally, “Nice walk?”
She stopped several feet away from him. “Have you changed your mind? About Dallas, I mean?”
“You should know me better than that.”
“Then I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”
“Using your body as a bargaining chip?”
“That’s a cheap shot!”
“I’m not retracting it.”
“I feel a million miles away from you,” Katrin said with desperate intensity. “How can I share your bed?”
“Our bed.”
“That’s the only place that’s really ours. Everything else is yours.”
“So we’re back to square one,” Luke said harshly.
“I guess we are.” Standing tall, she said, “Good night, Luke.”
The words burst from him. “Katrin, don’t do this!”
“I don’t know what else to do. How else to handle it.”
Before she could walk past him, he seized her by the wrist; her sweater was damp from the fog that had swathed the city all day. With a distant part of his brain, he saw drops like dew on her hair, glittering as brilliantly as diamonds.
“Don’t!” she cried, and tried to pull away.
As quickly as he’d grabbed her, Luke let go. As if he were four years old again, back in the old kitchen in Teal Lake, he remembered his father wrapping his fingers around his mother’s wrist, then shoving her hard against the wall, pinning her there with his big body. He, Luke, shouldn’t have been so critical of his mother because she’d left a violent, drunken man. What he still found hard to forgive was that she’d abandoned her small son; and had never once been in touch with him since.
“Luke, don’t look like that,” Katrin whispered. “What’s wrong?”
He stepped back, wiping his hands down the sides of his trousers. “I’m not going to beg you to share my bed, we’ve gone too far for that,” he said curtly. “Good night, Katrin.”
She made the smallest of gestures toward him. But he turned away, going back into the den as though whatever was on TV was more important than she was. Through the canned laughter of a sitcom, he heard her footsteps retreat toward the guest wing, then the quiet closing of the adjoining door.
Luke flicked the power off, staring at the blank screen as if it could give him some answers.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUKE got up very early the next morning and left the house almost immediately. He didn’t want to see Katrin. He was as bereft of answers in the morning as he had been the night before; and just as angry.
He worked out at the gym adjoining the tennis court, showered, and had breakfast at a little diner he knew. Then he went to the office and threw himself into his newest project with a driven energy that had all his staff on tiptoes. After ordering a sandwich at his desk for lunch, he worked until nearly six. The last thing he did before leaving the office was to make sure all his arrangements for Dallas were in place. One passenger. Traveling alone.
Katrin was in the kitchen when Luke got home. As he leaned over to kiss her, she turned her head so that he kissed her cheek rather than her lips. He said evenly, “Want to go out for supper?”
“I made a meat loaf, except I tried marinated tofu instead of beef,” she said in a staccato voice. “It tastes a bit weird.”
“But very good for us.”
She bit her lip. “Luke, I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t mention Dallas again if you’ll promise me four days of your time when you get back. We’ll go somewhere of my choice, and you won’t ask any questions until we get there.”
He put his briefcase on the counter. “You’re still angry.”
“Will you do it?”
“Playing games with me?”
“No more than you are with me.”
He loosened his tie and dropped his jacket over a chair. “I don’t think I am. And I don’t like being manipulated.”
“I don’t like being excluded.”
His voice hardened. “I’m not going to change, Katrin. Not for you or for anyone.”
“Four days, Luke. That’s all I’m asking.”
Even as it infuriated him, he was reluctantly admiring her spirit. She had it all worked out. He was getting four days without her in Dallas. She’d get four days with him heaven knows where. But wasn’t that better than the stalemate of the last twenty-four hours? He’d slept lousily last night, his bed a wasteland without her.
“I’ll tell you one thing, living with you isn’t dull,” he said irritably. “I agree.”
“Thank you,” she said, and reached for the spice rack.
The jeweler’s box, fully wrapped, was still lying on the counter. “Are you ever going to open that present?”
“The present I want, you’re not prepared to give,” she said edgily. “And money can’t buy it. So what am I supposed to do—make do with substitutes?”
“You’re the only woman I’ve known who’d turn down a Tiffany’s box!”
“Adversity’s good for the character,” she retorted. “Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. And sure, I’m curious to know what’s in it—I’m only human.”
“I didn’t buy you something to make up for not taking you to Dallas,” Luke said, his words falling over one another. “I bought it because waking up in the night and finding you there beside me makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Dammit, he’d done it again. Said more than he’d ever meant to say, just because a woman with big blue eyes was pushing him beyond his limits.
Those same blue eyes were now filmed with tears. “It does?
” Katrin said jaggedly.
“Surely I don’t have to tell you that?”
“It would be really nice if reading your mind was one of my talents,” she said. “But it isn’t.”
Luke didn’t want her reading his mind; he had to keep some parts of himself inviolate. “I didn’t sleep more than five consecutive minutes last night.”
“Neither did I.” Giving him a small smile, Katrin reached for the jeweler’s box. As she lifted the delicate bracelet from the box, her face lit with delight. “It’s beautiful, Luke, thank you. Will you do it up for me?”
He fumbled with the tiny clasp, her scent filling his nostrils. When he kissed the pulse in her wrist, it raced beneath his lips; they were very late eating the marinated tofu. Which did indeed taste rather weird.
Luke went to Dallas on his own, missed Katrin unrelentingly, and flew home late on Friday. He didn’t like missing her, reaching for her in the night, wanting to share a joke with her or a conversation. No matter how earth-shattering it was, sex was just sex. He’d better not forget it.
When he unlocked the front door, it was past eleven. A note was on the kitchen table. “Gone to bed…see you there?”
Luke ran up the stairs two at a time, hoping she wasn’t asleep. He opened the bedroom door, stopped in his tracks and started to laugh, a laugh that came all the way from his belly.
“You don’t laugh often enough.” Katrin said, “Welcome home, Luke.”
She was lying in a seductive pose on black satin sheets, wearing a sheer white nightgown that left nothing to his imagination. Red roses were strewn on the bed, while there were enough candles burning in the room to start a major fire. Marlene Dietrich was singing something sultry on the stereo; strings of tiny white lights glittered like stars all over the ceiling.
Katrin said innocently, “Did I go overboard enough? You’ll notice there are no flamingos.”
“Perhaps you should have included a fire extinguisher.”
“The kind of fire I’m interested in can’t be put out so easily,” she rejoined, tossing her hair back with a gesture worthy of Dietrich.