“She tried. Kat was never interested.”
Andrew discovered, much to his chagrin, that was not the answer he wanted to hear. “So she didn’t want to date me but now she wants to marry me?”
“That seems to sum it up.”
Just what the hell had Kat Devereaux considered wrong with him? “Why didn’t she want to meet me before?”
“Said you sounded too much like a…I believe the exact term she used was ‘stuffed shirt.”’
Andrew experienced a knee-jerk reaction. “I am not a stuffed shirt.” Conservative. Perhaps a bit reserved. But a stuffed shirt? He’d stepped out of his conservative mold when he’d agreed to appear as one of the state’s most eligible bachelors. And that had proved nothing but trouble since.
Across the desk, Edward smirked at his denial and toyed with a pen. “May I be frank?”
“By all means.”
“How long have we known each other, Andrew?”
“It’s common knowledge we’ve known each other for the better part of fifteen years.”
“Correct.”
Andrew templed his fingers and prodded. “The point, Edward?”
“You just made the point, Andrew—we’ve known each other fifteen years, ten of which I’ve worked at the same firm with you and eight of which I’ve been married to your sister, and you still call me Edward. Not Eddie or Ed or even Sommers, but Edward. No one calls me Edward.”
“Well, you’ve never called me anything but Andrew,” he countered.
“That’s not true. I called you Andy—once. The look of distaste on your face was so plain, I never made that mistake again.”
“Okay, I concede,” Andrew said, knowing Edward was right. But he wasn’t interested in what he called his brother-in-law, or vice-versa. Kat and her proposal kept flitting through his mind. Along with her incredible legs.
“You’re seriously considering this, aren’t you?” Edward didn’t seem surprised.
“This firm has been a part of my family for almost a century. It’s my heritage. I refuse to let my father deny me a partnership just because he believes partners should be married and stable. Marriage was his sole stipulation. What’s your opinion?”
“It could work. It could get you what you want without costing you half of everything in the end if you have a prenuptial. The way I see it, you have two immediate choices—Kat or Claudia. Straight up, I’d take Kat any day. I only have one reservation.”
“Yes?”
Edward picked up the embossed leather frame on the corner of his desk. The photograph captured all of Julianna’s exuberance as she laughed at her parents.
“She’s a beast. But she’s my beast and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. Sure as hell not for a partnership.” He settled the frame back on the corner of his massive desk. “I question whether you can walk away from your child when the time comes.”
Apparently Kat thought he could. That seemed to be one of the more salient points in his favor. He’d never considered himself father material. Much like his own father, he spent too many hours at the office and liked it that way. And while he didn’t envision himself reading bedtime stories, he also didn’t envision tossing his child’s legacy aside. He wasn’t interested in parental visitation, but he’d damn well retain the right to name his son or daughter as his heir. He and Edward could deal with the legal ramifications later.
He reached for Edward’s phone. “Mind if I use your phone?”
“Go ahead.”
Andrew punched in his office extension. “Gloria. I need you to make a doctor’s appointment for me for tomorrow afternoon. Clear my calendar if you have to. And round up a private investigator ASAP, not one of our regulars though. Thanks.”
He checked his watch, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now I need a good attorney. If you know one, I’m willing to spring for a working lunch.”
Edward grinned and shrugged into his jacket. “It’ll cost you a pastrami on rye at Baker’s.”
“I’ll even buy you a beer to go with it.” Andrew paused at the office door. “So, Eddie, do I qualify as a wild and crazy guy now?”
KAT SLID INTO THE SEAT facing the doorway. “Thanks, Umberto. I’ll have a glass of Chianti and a basket of garlic rolls while I wait.”
“Anything for you, cara mia.” He treated her to a soulful look before moving off toward the kitchen. Kat shook her head slightly and smiled. Umberto always swore undying devotion to her, as he did to every other female patron. It was fun, harmless flirting that made for a lively dinner and usually a generous tip.
Tonight she and Andrew were meeting, with their attorneys in tow, for the first time in the week and a half since she’d propositioned him, although they’d had several short, perfunctory phone conversations in the interim.
“Hi, sis.” Her older brother ambled across the restaurant.
Kat stood and hugged him. “Thanks for coming, Jackson.” He might be her sibling, but he was also one of the best lawyers she knew, and the only one she trusted to keep this agreement confidential.
“You realize this whole thing is against my better judgment. And Father’s going to be furious when he finds out,” he said without preamble.
“Jackson, practically everything I do is against your better judgment.” Kat winced when she thought about her father’s reaction, but she’d made up her mind. “Unfortunately, it won’t be the first time Dad’s disapproved of me.”
Umberto interrupted with a basket of fragrant garlic rolls and Kat’s wine. He bowed slightly in Jackson’s direction. “A glass of Chianti for you?”
“Thanks.” Umberto glided away and Jackson picked up the conversational thread. “I don’t understand why you can’t just fall in love, get married and have a baby.”
He didn’t add “like everyone else.” He didn’t have to. It hung between them unspoken. Kat had lived a lifetime of being different.
“In case it slipped your mind, I tried that with Nick and it landed me a charming case of desertion.”
“If I ever get my hands on that…”
“…low-life, slime-sucking son of a bitch, you’re gonna kill him.” Kat finished the diatribe she’d heard so many times before. “You’d have to take a number.”
She patted Jackson’s hand. She wasn’t bitter, but she’d learned her lesson and learned it well. “It’s okay, Jackie. Honest it is.”
“Well, I hate to bring it up, but you know sometimes you’re a little excessive.”
“I have several excellent behavior modification tapes that have really helped.”
“Several? Humph. What about that time you bought all that pink paint because you liked the color and it was on sale?”
“That was a long time ago!”
“How many pairs of shoes do you own? And how many had you just bought at that sale the last time I met you for lunch?”
“I’m not shopping any more shoe sales and I promise these tapes are great. Try to understand I need to do this my way.”
Umberto placed a glass of wine in front of Jackson and slipped away.
“I respect that. I don’t agree with it, but I respect it. By the way, I’ve got an ethics question for you.”
Jackson had plied her with ethical dilemmas from the time he’d entered law school. Kat had always marched to a slightly different drummer, and he swore it gave him a fresh perspective.
“Shoot.”
Jackson toyed with the stem of his glass. “You have a client who gives you specific instructions. But, as an attorney, you don’t feel they serve your client’s best interest. Your client’s current wishes would, in the long run, pose a serious problem. Do you adhere to his wishes or act in his best interests?”
Kat knew better than to ask for details or specifics. Jackson would never betray client confidentiality. For a fleeting second she thought about her own case. Jackson made no bones about his disapproval. However, she’d given marrying Andrew and having a baby a lot of thought—it wasn’t a whim. Besides
, Jackson knew she’d kill him if he was playing games with her. She tossed out the idea and went on to consider the question from a general perspective.
Kat recognized clients were often distraught. Usually by the time they got around to contracting the services of a lawyer, they were an emotional mess. Most of them didn’t know the intricacies of the law, which often rendered their requests or instructions ill informed. It was the reason they paid exorbitant fees for legal counsel.
“Earn your money and act in his best interests.”
“Good answer.” Jackson reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a cigar and clamped it between his teeth.
“Don’t even think of lighting up that thing,” she warned as she fished a garlic roll out of the basket.
“I’m not, but it couldn’t possibly smell any worse than that.” He defiantly waved his cigar at the bread.
Kat broke off a small piece and launched into the question she’d avoided asking since Jackson’s arrival. “So, is the contract in order? Everything’s clear? You spelled out all the stipulations?”
Jackson didn’t blink. “Yes, yes and yes. But I still think—”
“Jackie, I know what you think. But if everything’s in order, I plan to marry Andrew Martin Winthrop III.”
She looked forward to seeing him tonight. She needed a blast of arctic ice from those cold gray eyes. It had been far too easy to forget his aloofness and lose herself in his voice over the phone. His voice brought to mind a good bourbon. Potent. Heady.
As if conjured up by her thoughts, that voice interrupted her reverie. “Good evening, Kat.”
She glanced up with a start. Edward Sommers and Andrew were standing beside the table.
Her gaze riveted on Andrew. Good Lord, if he wasn’t a total package. Coal black hair cut precisely and brushed back from a face saved from being pretty by a slightly crooked nose and a harsh mouth. And summa cum laude from Harvard. Fabulous genetic material. She buried a sigh. It was a good thing she didn’t go for his type. Otherwise she would be making a big mistake marrying him.
Kat rose from her seat and Eddie enveloped her in a bear hug. “Welcome to the family.” Edward spoke low in her ear.
Kat laughed at his forwardness. “Good to see you again, Eddie.”
She shifted to face Andrew. She could hardly hug his lawyer and then shake her fiancé’s hand, could she?
Kat stood on tiptoe and twined her arms around Andrew’s neck. He stiffened beneath her hands when she bussed his cheek. He was all hard, masculine angles. If she thought he sounded and looked good, he felt and smelled even better.
Kat withdrew from him and sank into her chair, glad of the support it offered, while the men indulged in a flurry of handshaking.
“Andrew, Eddie, this is Jackson Hamilton, my attorney and brother.” She sent Jackson a teasing glance, determined to lighten the atmosphere. “Our mother had a fixation with dead presidents when he was born.”
Edward interrupted her introductions with a friendly nod. “It’s okay, Kat. We’ve all met in the courtroom before.”
“And I take it Katrina Anastasia was your mother’s Russian nobility phase?” Andrew drawled.
Clever. Very clever. Kat snickered her appreciation of his parallel witticism, relieved to discover Andrew possessed a sense of humor. Next to her, Jackson nodded his approval.
“Thank God, someone’s finally paid you back for that dead president joke.”
ANDREW WATCHED Kat Devereaux walk back to the table. She’d excused herself to go to the bathroom when Jackson and Edward had left with minor contract changes. There was nothing provocative about either her walk or her manner but she exuded an unselfconscious sensuality. He also watched their doe-eyed waiter mooning over her.
She slid into the seat next to him and treated him to a warm smile. “Ready to eat?”
“That’s fine.” Andrew noted their smitten waiter hovering in the background. “I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to order posthaste.” No sooner had Andrew spoken than the waiter approached the table. Andrew indulged in a scowl. Regardless of the underlying reasons, Kat was his fiancé. Almost.
“We’re ready for our salads now.” She bestowed an equally warm smile on their waiter, who hurried off at her bidding.
“We don’t order because there’s no menu. Mama Leone serves whatever she’s in the mood to cook. But I can promise you, it’ll be the best Italian food you ever tasted.” Kat waved a hand at the humble furnishings. “And I didn’t think you’d run into anyone you knew here.”
“That’s fine.” He hadn’t come for the gastronomic experience. He reached into his jacket pocket. There was no way he would have given her this with Jackson and Edward watching, but he’d rather get it over with before dinner arrived.
He slapped a sealed envelope on the table and stared past her at a charcoal drawing of a fishing village. It tilted crookedly on the wall.
She ripped into the envelope. “Oh, my. According to this, your sperm count is above average.”
He retrieved the single sheet of paper and tucked it back into his pocket. “So they said.”
Kat shifted toward him, her indigo eyes alight with avid curiosity. “I’ve always wanted to know, did you have to…”
Andrew cupped her pointed chin in his hand and leaned in close. “We are not going to have this conversation. Not here and now. Not later. You’ll have to find someone else to quiz for details or continue to wonder.” It had been damned humiliating. They’d put him in a room with a little cup and… It was the closest he’d come to calling the whole charade off.
Kat’s full bottom lip puckered into a pout. On any other woman it would have been a studied ploy of seduction. A move calculated to drive him to acquiesce to her request. On Kat it was pure and simple sulking. And tenfold as enticing. “But I just wanted—”
Andrew slid his thumb to rest against her lips. “Shh. Let’s talk about something else.” He sure as hell hoped she came up with another topic of conversation, because all he could think about was the lush fullness of those lips against him. He released her and leaned back in his chair, only to notice her hand tremble as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
Romeo arrived bearing salads. He situated Kat’s before her with a flourish and a murmured, “Cara mia.”
“Thanks, Umberto.”
Umberto, not Romeo. Romeo seemed more appropriate. He placed Andrew’s salad before him with much less pomp.
Kat broke the tension-laden silence. “I have my own medical evaluation if you want to see it. And you had enough time to check me out?”
“It’s not necessary for me to see your evaluation. And yes, I’ve had plenty of time to check you out. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” Plenty of time to ascertain through his P.I.’s report that she was an elementary art teacher, immensely popular with students, parents and faculty alike. She shared a similar background with him. She lived fairly modestly except for what appeared to be a proclivity for the shoe department at Dillard’s.
“Right. Have you told Claudette yet?”
“No. And I’m not going to until after the fact. Claudette…I mean, Claudia…would go straight to my father. She knows he expects me to marry her.” For some annoying but inexplicable reason Andrew felt compelled to justify his relationship with Claudia to Kat. “Claudia doesn’t care a whit about me, but she isn’t going to take it well when she finds out I married you instead of her. Missed opportunity and such. That’s why we should get married quietly in the next week or so and then tell everyone.”
“I think we can count on several people ‘not taking it well.”’
Andrew stared in fascination as she nibbled a cherry tomato. He swallowed hard and reached into his pocket. “I believe you’re right about that.”
He grasped the small velvet box. Perhaps she’d put down the damned tomato. He slid the jeweler’s case onto the table next to her salad.
Kat’s knife clanged against her plate. She eyed the box suspiciously. “What’s that?
”
“It’s a bomb,” he answered with a hint of sarcasm.
“What?”
“What does it look like? It’s a ring.”
“But I don’t want a ring. At least not an engagement ring. A plain gold band will suffice.”
She was far too transparent for her own good. With her emphasis on “plain,” she might as well have come out and said she thought he’d give her something ostentatious.
“As my wife, people will expect you to wear something other than a plain gold band.” He nudged the box closer to her. “Open it.”
Momentary reprieve arrived in the form of Umberto carrying two generous servings of gnocchi. When he left, muttering over the two barely touched salads he’d cleared away, Andrew pressed the box into Kat’s hand. “Just take a look at it.”
With a decided lack of enthusiasm, she cracked the box open and stared at the ring, speechless, which seemed a novel state for Kat from what he’d observed thus far. Finally she pulled it out. The fiery iridescence of the opal flanked by twin sapphires came to life in the light. “It’s beautiful. Simply beautiful.”
“I’m glad you approve. You didn’t seem like the diamond type.”
“I’m not. I’m just surprised…” Her voice trailed off, as if loath to finish the thought.
“What? That I realized it?”
“Well, actually, yes.” Wariness gleamed in her eyes.
He took the ring from her. “May I?”
“Okay.” She presented her hand with reluctance. “But I need to ask you a question.”
Andrew slid the ring onto her finger, noting the small callus that marred her palm. He frowned at the hint of desperation tinging her voice. “What’s the question?”
“Do you read the Wall Street Journal?”
Andrew recalled a long-ago trip to the fair. He’d been about ten and had gone through the fun house. Mirrors and tilting floors had left him slightly off-kilter, disoriented and thoroughly delighted. Much the same as having a conversation with the entrancing Kat. He stared at her for a moment and then did the only thing he could. He threw back his head and laughed.
Bemusement replaced amusement. Where the hell had that question come from, besides left field? “Of course.”
New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess Page 15