"Don't you live in New York and work for a big bank? You can't stay for more than a couple of days. I'll be here as long as Harry needs someone. That must be why he called us both. He probably just wanted us to stay in shifts. You know, you for right now, to see to family business and me for the rest of the time."
"I'm due in Zurich as soon as Harry's out of the woods. This heart attack couldn't have come at a more convenient time for me. I haven't started my new job yet and they're willing to wait."
Her wry expression said she followed his warped logic. "So, you're free for more than a few days. Still, they won't wait forever."
"Right. And you?" The president of his new bank had understood Jace's concern for his ailing uncle, but hadn't given him long to sort out the details of the rest of Harry's life.
Jace's promise to review files by e-mail had mollified his new bosses. To that end, he'd set up his laptop in his room and arranged for a service provider as soon as he'd arrived. He needed to get Harry online. The man didn't even have a computer at home. He'd look into getting his uncle a computer tablet right away. Even Harry could manage that. "How long can you stay?"
"I sublet my apartment to a woman with a new baby. She had nowhere else to go. Her husband's kind of...." She shrugged.
"Difficult?"
She sighed sharply. "You could say that. Anyway, I can't ask her to vacate." She glanced vaguely around the room. "So, maybe you could just leave Harry to me. We'll manage well enough without you."
He laughed. "Subtlety isn't one of your strong points, is it, Kate?"
"No, I prefer the direct approach."
"After you've settled in, we'll talk about Harry and you and Harry and me," he said sharply.
"Fine." The word was little more than a bark, but at least she was willing to talk. It was a beginning; a wary one, but a beginning just the same.
She smiled.
Her eyes didn't. "Jace?"
He looked at the long, dark red hair that framed her delicate features and softened her heart-shaped face. Her determined gaze held him. He waited.
"My name's Katie," she said after a long moment of mutual measurement. "No one ever calls me Kate."
Chapter 2
Jace left Katie alone in her room for a few moments, then reappeared carrying more of her bags and boxes. He set them on the bed and stepped back to lean against the door frame. She nodded her thanks and set to work, hoping he'd take the hint and leave her alone.
She turned her back to him to sort out her lingerie and put it in the top drawer of the dresser. She did her best to ignore him, although how she was supposed to ignore a six-foot-something male blocking the only exit was beyond her.
She opened a box she'd scavenged from the liquor store. They were a favorite of hers because they had dividers that provided some protection for her breakables. Then, tucked into a space beside a glass bud vase, she saw something that made her smile. She drew the item out into the light and turned slowly toward Jace.
She held the knife that Billy, a foster brother, had given her. She pulled the short blade from its leather sheath and examined it idly, resisting the urge to check on Jace's reaction. Four inches of polished steel gleamed in the sunlight and made dancing reflections on the ceiling.
The knife was meant to fit inside a boot or a sleeve. Billy had given it to her when she was fifteen, saying she'd need it for her own protection. The kid had been the only one to ever think she needed protecting. She kept the knife because Billy was dead, beaten by his own father on Christmas Eve. He should have kept the knife himself.
She dropped the wicked-looking blade on the corner of her bedside table, and gave Jace a sidelong glance. His startled, wary expression made her smile.
"It was a gift. I keep it with me always." Which wasn't exactly true, but Jace didn't need to know that.
The room had a bay window with a cushioned seat. She propped her scruffy brown teddy bear in the corner of the window, so that Beau looked into the room.
"Who's that?" Jace asked in a voice determined to be acknowledged.
She glanced up at him, surprised he was still there. Couldn't he take a hint?
"Beau," she replied. She fingered the bear's left ear tenderly. "I've had him forever."
"It looks like it." Jace moved into the room without invitation, making it seem smaller and more feminine than the sprightly yellow curtains and bedspread ever could.
Jace loomed over her and she regretted having sat down, but there was no room to stand without being too close to him. He reached for Beau, his long arm extending past her. She snatched the toy to her chest. Somewhere outside a lawnmower roared to life, startling her and making her jump.
Immediately, Jace stepped back, holding both palms up. "It's okay; I wasn't going to eat him." He dropped his hands to his sides and waited.
She'd overreacted. She could see it in Jace's face. She hated these telltale clues to her emotions and wondered where her hard-earned composure had gone. She should have let him have the bear right away.
She tossed him the toy.
He looked Beau over carefully, turning him this way and that gently. "He's been around some."
She smiled, feeling older than stone.
"No more than I have."
He looked sharply at her, but said nothing.
"The stitching on his ear was done when I was ten," she explained for no other reason than that she was tired of being doubted. "Another kid in the facility tried to pull him out of my arms. Beau's ear tore and I sewed it myself." No need to tell him she'd been terrified to let the bear out of her sight. Or that she'd been proud of the stitching job she'd done.
"The facility?" Jace's deceptively soft tone bothered her.
"What do you expect to hear? That I was incorrigible? A delinquent?" She looked at the knife carelessly tossed on the nightstand.
"Do you expect to hear I was thrown into reform school for conning old people out of their pension checks? Well, I wasn't." She kept her voice low and the hurt out of it. But a good portion of self-directed anger laced the words. She shouldn't have said all that. She rarely spoke of her life before coming to Bellingham. It must have been her thoughts of Billy that had loosened her tongue.
"If you were a con artist Harry would have had you pegged on sight. There's no way in hell you'd be here today."
She leaned back against the window in a huff. Flashing a knife—oh, brother. As if that would scare him. She stared out the window at neat front lawns and tidy flower beds. Sunlight made the scene on the street brighter, friendlier, more of a lie. It was this house and this neighborhood that made her overreact. It couldn't be Jace Donner. Yeah, right.
He held Beau out to her, a peace offering. Something like understanding had softened his eyes and his expression. She only hoped it wasn't pity. Nothing made her angrier than pity.
She took the bear and fought the temptation to clutch him to her. Instead she propped him against the other side of the window. One glass eye glinted at her. The other was only a button.
When she looked up again, Jace was gone. Relieved, she went back to her unpacking.
She'd left an African violet in the car. Her one and only house plant. If she didn't get it now she'd probably forget it. She shut the door on her new bedroom and walked two steps down the staircase. She stopped and backed up to the top again.
The bathroom was across the hall from the guest bedroom she'd taken. The door was ajar, the air moist from a recent shower. She stared at the vanity top strewn with shaving gear, aftershave, a new toothbrush still in its package and a toothpaste tube that hadn't yet been squeezed. The mirror over the sink reflected a royal blue velour bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. The color would make Jace's eyes seem bluer than they were.
Her pulse raced as she continued to stare at the cramped bathroom, knowing she'd have to share it with Jace. Heat rose in her neck and up to her cheeks at the forced intimacy. She'd hated the dormitory style bathrooms she'd had to share with the other
kids.
She'd found foster home bathrooms even less to her liking. There'd never been any space for her things. She'd always been the extra person, someone people got annoyed with, made room for or forgot about.
Sharing a bathroom with a stranger was at the top of her list of things to avoid, especially if the stranger was a handsome man.
Her well-developed instincts for self-preservation screamed at her to run. Right now. Her Mustang was sitting at the curb, ready to be her chariot to freedom. A motel for a few nights while she looked for a new apartment wouldn't be that bad. She'd lived in worse places. And sometimes, in no places.
There was nothing to stop her from leaving. Nothing or no one, except Harry Johnson. She shrugged off the effect of the memories. They had nothing to do with the person she was today, but Harry Johnson did. There was no telling where she'd be or how she'd have ended up without him. He deserved her help now and he would get it, no matter how difficult it might be for her. She'd just have to tough it out.
He wanted to go back to the life he loved, and the doctors had said he could return to work as long as he made some adjustments in diet and exercise. The cigars were definitely a problem, but Katie felt confident Harry could eventually give them up.
She couldn't imagine him not working. Harry was a born salesman who loved the game. Like her.
When Jace saw how well Harry and Katie worked together, he would understand that returning to the way things had been was the best option for all of them.
So, she wouldn't argue the point. She wouldn't have to. Jace would see it soon because she'd show him.
Resolved again to stay, she found her little violet no worse for the car ride and picked it up. As she strode back, Katie studied the pleasant old house. It was perfect for a growing family. She'd often pictured a tire swing hanging from the huge maple in the front yard, and imagined how the screen door would sound slamming shut behind the bustling energy of a four-year-old.
Harry bought the place when his sister had been widowed and needed a helping hand. Jace had been raised here until he'd gone off to college without looking back. If Harry had expected gratitude from his nephew, he certainly hadn't seen much. Once Jace was gone, he'd only been back a couple of times and that was before Katie had shown up. And when he'd started working, his vacations had never included a visit to his uncle.
A low-slung Japanese sedan reversed along Harry's driveway toward the road. Jace. He stopped the car at the sidewalk.
"Kate," he called, "I'll be back in an hour. I'm on my way to see Harry."
"Wait," she said. "I'll go with you."
"Sorry, no time," he called back and continued out of the driveway.
"Damn," she muttered, watching him drive away. Deciding not to argue didn't mean she didn't want to be in on any discussions. She watched Jace's car turn the corner, burning with the knowledge that he and Harry would talk about her. She'd bet Jace wouldn't have anything nice to say, either.
* * *
Jace tried to ignore the pervading scent of disinfectant and general atmosphere of brisk efficiency as he strode the hospital's light green hall. Harry had better be in his room and he had better be ready to talk. Jace wanted answers.
The short drive to the hospital had given him plenty of time to think about Kate—maybe too much time. Twice he'd turned on the car stereo to drown out the memory of her smooth, husky voice. Twice he'd turned it off to replay the same memory over and over again.
He passed the nurses' station and found Harry in his room, watching television. The distinct odor of cigar smoke wafted about the bed.
"Can't you do what the doctor orders for more than an hour at a time?" Jace asked. He opened the window. "Cigars will kill you, not to mention the nurses if they catch you. This is a smoke-free building." He'd seen patients on IV hookups smoking outside.
Harry snorted and gave him a disgusted look. His red hair poked up in tufts all over his hard-as-cement head. "Are you moved in yet?" he growled, his voice thick. He cleared his throat.
Jace looked more closely at him. He looked groggy. He must have been dozing, in spite of the blare of the television. Here was a perfect chance to get a straight answer for a change.
"Who's Kate Calhoun?" Jace asked softly, trying not to rouse his uncle's suspicions.
"Katie? Was she at the house?" Harry's face lit up and he shifted on the bed, trying to sit up straighter. His eyes took on a self-satisfied gleam.
Jace plumped up the pillows at Harry's back. "Who is she, Harry?" he asked again, aware that his chance for the unvarnished truth had slipped away. He'd have to be faster to catch wily Harry Johnson.
"She works for me. Has for years." Harry reached for a water jug on his bedside table.
"That's what she said." Jace beat him to the jug and poured him a drink. Passing the cup to Harry, he was afraid to ask more about their relationship. But, he had no choice. "Why was she moving into your place today?"
Harry shrugged. "I wasn't sure she'd do it. Must have been hard on her. Katie doesn't get close." He sipped the water. "Guess I should've known I could count on her." He nodded contentedly, as if all was right with his world.
The old dog hadn't yet answered one question directly. "You should have warned us both. We stumbled all over each other." Jace timed his hesitation for maximum effect before going on. "I accused her of moving in on you."
Harry's eyes widened and his hands closed into fists. "In on—? What the hell do you take me for?" he bellowed. "The girl's only twenty-six. She's young enough to be my daughter." His hair positively bristled.
"Okay, okay"—Jace held his palms up in a gesture of surrender—"don't go all righteous. I just want to understand your relationship." And given Harry's reaction, Jace still had plenty to wonder about.
"Katie Calhoun," Harry said firmly, "is a hard-working kid who's been like a daughter to me for the last eight years." He yanked a tissue out of the box beside his bed and blew his nose, honking like a Canada goose. "She musta knocked you into tomorrow after you made a stupid accusation like that."
"Actually, she didn't admit or deny it. She let me think what I wanted and moved in anyway." She had knocked him for a loop, but in a way Harry needn't know.
Harry chuckled. "That's Katie." He sighed contentedly, and then looked at Jace from under his brows. "Where's your mother now?"
"She and Benson are still in France. She's not due to call me until they get to Italy." Harry had ordered him to keep the news from his mother.
Harry nodded. "Good. With any luck she'll never know about this heart attack. That's all I need, a fussing woman."
"Doesn't Kate fuss over you?"
"Never. I doubt she'd know how to fuss."
"Then why would you ask her to help out?"
Harry glared at him. "How would she feel if I hadn't?"
Jace remembered the hurt look in her eyes when she'd found out he, too, had been called.
"I still say I should have told Mom," he said, switching tactics. "You don't hide heart attacks from family."
"Aw, go on. She doesn't want her honeymoon ruined with the hot air these doctors belch now and then. Her coming here would be a waste of time and money."
There would be hell to pay when his mother found out that her only child had lied about the health of her only brother. Jace faced Harry over the deck of cards he held out. Harry winked. Their secret.
Jace took the deck and shuffled. Playing gin with Harry had taught Jace to count, much to his mother's dismay.
He was only a little less confused about Harry and Kate's relationship, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He would have to wait and see what influence Kate had on his uncle before he could begin to counter it.
* * *
A couple of hours later, as Katie was putting the finishing touches to her room, Jace appeared in the doorway.
"There you are," he said, as if he were surprised to still find her there. "Hungry?"
"Sure." She felt wary, but noticed hi
s manner was definitely easier than before he'd left to speak with his uncle. "Chinese or pizza?"
He grinned at her suggestion. "Actually, I'm trying to find ways to make crow more palatable."
Incredulous, she asked, "Is that an apology?"
"Yes."
"You're more like Harry than I realized." She tilted her head and studied him. "He never actually says he's sorry either just gives me a couple of days off or buys me flowers or candy. Like I'm supposed to read his mind or something."
Jace gave her a smile that lit his eyes. "Five minutes. In the kitchen," he said, ignoring her complaint.
When she got downstairs, she looked around Harry's usually grungy kitchen. What a surprise—Jace had laid out an elegant luncheon for two. Her smile froze into place. And the room was clean. The old faucets actually shone.
"When did you do all this?"
"I got back half an hour ago. You were busy and I was hungry. I figured you would be, too."
The sandwiches were simple enough, but they were on croissants instead of white bread. The cheese was Swiss, not plastic-wrapped slices. Flutes of chilled wine waited and she smelled wonderfully aromatic coffee. A tossed salad provided the table with a centerpiece of fresh color.
"This looks delicious, Jace," she said, clearing her suddenly dry throat. "I would never have gone to this much bother."
He shrugged. "Like I said, crow should be palatable."
"If this is crow, then you can feed it to me anytime," she said with a shrug. The sights and smells reinforced her hunger. "I'm just as likely to smear peanut butter between two pieces of bread as I am to microwave a cardboard dinner."
He settled into a chair and took a large portion of salad. "I learned to cook at college. Amazing, the things I can do with a hot plate."
The wine flute was half empty, but she couldn't remember tasting its contents. She must have, though, because warmth spread through her that couldn't be caused by anything else.
She put the glass down carefully and picked up the croissant sandwich. She took a bite. "Mm, this is great."
Sweet Ride! Page 2