Jace closed his eyes and leaned out of the way to let her pass. As she brushed by him, she was tempted to turn and reach out. She considered staying, of forgetting he'd run roughshod over her. She ached to forgive him for trying to control every aspect of her life from now on.
Then she saw the luggage and knew she couldn't do any of those things.
"This is exactly what is wrong with us, Jace." She pointed at the fine leather. "You bought this stuff, without asking my opinion. Without even thinking that I might have an opinion."
He straightened and glared at her, apparently thinking he could defend his actions. "I've done nothing but think of you. I hate the idea of you struggling here, without Harry. I didn't want that, Kate."
"You see? You assume I need Harry. And if it isn't Harry I need, then it must be you I need to help me live my life." She was so enraged, she saw red. She poked him in the chest and realized as she did it, she'd never have the opportunity to do it again, because this was the last—the very last—argument they'd ever have.
"I don't need you or anyone." Her voice was low and hard. "I've survived on my own since I was fifteen and I'll be damned if I need anybody's help now."
"Fine," he responded in a shout. "I thought this would make you happy." He kicked the pile of suitcases, making them topple. "I thought I was being sensitive."
Jace's jaw clenched. He doubled his hands into fists at his side. He looked angrier than she'd ever seen him. Good, it was for the best.
She welcomed his fury. Now, she could leave the way she wanted to, and neither of them would have any real regrets.
"And my seminars." She couldn't resist making one more point. "You never meant to let me start them, did you?" She picked up a carton. "Even after I told you bad brakes killed my mother, you just strung me along until all your plans were set."
"Kate—" His voice held a warning, but she didn't care. He stepped toward her.
He stood directly in front of her, his eyes flashing with anger.
Dangerous eyes.
Dangerous man.
The two thoughts tumbled through her, reminding her of their first meeting. She held the box in front of her—flimsy protection, but better than nothing. Jace was furious enough to hurl the thing to the heavens and her with it if he wanted.
"I did everything I could to reassure you. I gave you all I had hoping to find out how much was enough. But nothing is enough, is it, Kate?" He spoke harshly, seeming to grow larger before her.
She shrank back, toward the door and escape.
"Nothing is enough to make you see what we could have. You're a lot of things, Kate—strong, resilient, beautiful, bewitching, independent and sassy. But none of that is enough if you're blind."
She backed away another step, sure that she'd pushed him too far. But she refused to cringe. She kept her back straight and her chin up, waiting for the blow that was sure to come.
He stopped short. The emotion in his eyes... Could it be pain? She raised her hand to touch him, but held off, knowing she'd only fall to pieces if she did.
"You thought I would hit you," he said in shocked disbelief. He closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. "You believed that I could. That I'm capable of striking out." When he looked at her again his gaze filled with sorrow. "You've been right all this time. We are too different to build a life together."
She looked down so he wouldn't see her tears.
Then she turned and ran down the stairs.
Chapter 11
Two months later, Jace still hadn't figured out where he'd gone wrong with Kate and he was confused. He couldn't understand why she would walk out after all he'd done for her. Most women would love to have the life he'd offered her and she'd turned him down flat.
And now, he was being set up with various dates by every executive and executive's wife in the Zurich bank. The women being paraded in front of him were the epitome of the woman he'd wanted before Kate. He should be having the time of his life.
His career was as he'd planned, his uncle and mother were happily settled, their health good. Kate had gone her way, and he'd gone his. He ought to be content. But he wasn't. He couldn't stop replaying his time with her. Whenever he thought of holding her, of laughing with her, of loving her, he got antsy.
Like now.
His collar choked him and his tie was too tight. The vest he wore with his tuxedo felt like a straitjacket. He kept wandering toward the tall French doors to look outside, but what he expected to see in the cold, starry sky was a mystery to him.
Jace accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and turned to survey the elegant reception room. The president of the bank stood in a circle of investors, his wife at his side. Inga was a svelte blonde, dedicated to her husband's career. She smiled in cool surprise when she saw him alone. Earlier, Inga had introduced him to the daughter of an Italian count, but Jace had escaped as soon as he could.
Inga turned to whisper in her husband's ear and he looked up, straight at Jace. Henrik nodded, and then glanced pointedly to the left side of the room.
Jace tracked his glance to an English lord, who was leering at the wife of a vice president. Her husband seemed unaware of the man's unpleasant expression and kept talking. The woman's smile weakened when the nobleman's gaze settled on her cleavage. Jace made his way through the mingling crowd, wondering what he'd do when he reached the group. He assumed he was supposed to join the conversation the men were having, but he couldn't ignore the young woman's discomfort.
He tried to imagine Kate here, putting up with Lord Whatsisname's ogling. He couldn't. There was no way Kate would tolerate a smarmy creep like this guy. Not for Jace's sake, and not for her own. And she wouldn't need anyone to run interference.
He noticed the wife's none-too-subtle shift away from the ogler. She looked discomfited, but her husband ignored her. When she saw Jace approach, she smiled warmly.
"Hello," he said as he got closer. Her husband barely nodded at his arrival. The lecherous lord asked a question about gold prices and the conversation continued, giving Jace the opportunity to intervene.
"Would you like to go over to the refreshment table?" he asked the young woman. Greta, yes that was her name—Greta.
"Thank you, I would," she accepted.
He offered his arm and she took it with a shy smile.
"Looked like you needed a rescue," he said when they were out of earshot.
"I did," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. "That man hasn't stopped staring at me since we arrived. My husband has strict instructions to entertain him all evening. I'm not certain how I'll make it through."
"The other wives seem to manage."
"They have more practice." She smiled and nodded at an acquaintance they passed.
The refreshments lay before them and Jace pretended interest in the food, but only picked out a couple of melon wedges. His appetite had been off lately and nothing looked appealing.
Greta helped herself to caviar on a tiny cracker. She ate it quickly, declining Jace's offer of a drink.
"Wine loosens my tongue and I'm afraid I may tell these horrid old men just what I think of them. My husband would suffer for my poor manners."
Jace grinned.
"I know a woman you'd like to meet," he said. "She could teach you a thing or two about making a point."
"I'm intrigued. Who is she?"
He wondered how he could explain Kate to a woman who'd been convinced to put aside her own feelings to further her husband's career.
But he managed it, somehow. Kate's courage, her fiery temper, her straightforward attitude were clearly qualities he admired. He went on at some length, sorting through the memories, repeating some of their conversations. All, except the last one.
He didn't want to think about what she'd said to him that day. She'd been wrong about him. He hadn't ignored what she'd said, because he remembered all of their conversations.
How could she think he wouldn't see their differences? She'd be
come comfortable talking openly about her past and he'd believed she was over the painful memories. How could loving her, wanting to make things easier for her, be wrong?
"...And she can curse a blue streak," he ended. He looked at Greta, wondering if she could explain Kate's reaction, but decided not to ask. Instinct told him this was something he needed to work out on his own.
"She sounds interesting Mr. Donner. She's in America?"
"Yes."
"You'll send for her?"
He shook his head. "She wouldn't come. I asked her, but she refused."
"I see. Then that's why you're not married. It is most unusual for an executive to be single. Married men are perceived to have more commitment to their careers."
"So that's why I'm invited to meet everyone's daughter, sister or cousin, hmm?"
She smiled. "Perhaps you'll be better off with a dutiful wife, Mr. Donner. One who'll take the advice of the older wives," she said with a nod toward her husband. "I'm afraid speaking my mind in public is out of the question for me." Her husband raised an eyebrow in her direction. "I must return. Thank you for the rescue. My husband won't put me in this position again, I assure you."
"So you speak your mind in private?" He smiled.
She laughed. "Of course and with great gusto."
Jace waited another hour and escaped when the first group of people left. Going straight home, he turned the key in his lock and tore at his tie before he entered his flat.
He needed a shower, a hot one. He needed to wash away the strict control he'd practiced all day. He needed to wash away the smell of money, power and greed and the cold-eyed ruthlessness of the money brokers with whom he dealt.
But first, he needed a drink. He went to his liquor cabinet and dug out a bottle of scotch. The whiskey warmed as it went down. He put both hands on the bar and leaned into a long, slow stretch, wishing he was back in his uncle's house.
He could still see Kate, in her tight shorts and that top of hers that was nothing more than an elastic band across her breasts. She had the most pert breasts he'd ever had the honor of fondling.
He imagined her hair, the color of dark cinnamon, with those red highlights that sparkled in the sun. The heat from the whiskey warmed him more as he remembered the cry of the crow they'd fed at their picnic. He'd rested his head in her lap and thought he'd found heaven.
What a joke. She'd thrown all he'd done for her back in his face.
He was sorry she'd had such a screwed-up life, but he was sick and tired of second-guessing whatever he did. He didn't have a lifetime to spend picking up her pieces.
He wanted to hang on to his sudden anger, but he couldn't. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He couldn't blame Kate. After two months of refusing to accept the truth of her statements, he didn't have a choice. He had to remember and analyze every word she'd said.
Damn.
He headed for his bedroom to change into his sneakers and jogging clothes. He preferred to run after midnight because there was next to no traffic on his route.
He ran until he could barely climb the three stories to his apartment on the top floor afterwards. Built as a private residence sometime in the nineteenth century, the rooms were too small for modern convenience, the stairs were crooked and it cost a fortune to live there. But he liked it. There was something about the place that reminded him of Harry's house. Maybe it was because it had originally been a family home, built for lots of children.
The red light on his answering machine was flashing. He was tempted to ignore it but ever since Harry's heart attack, he'd been conscientious about checking his messages. He touched the play button.
"Jace, it's me. We're getting married on Saturday, the twelfth of next month. Let me know if you can make it."
Harry.
The machine clicked into another message. "I forgot. I want you to be my best man."
He stripped off his sweatshirt, smoothed it across his chest to swipe away most of the sweat and headed for the shower, dropping the rest of his clothes on the way. It was well past midnight, but there'd be no sleep tonight.
Water sluiced over him as he leaned both hands against the shower wall and stretched again. Best man at his uncle's wedding. Who would have thought this day would come? Harry was fifty-eight. Would Jace have to wait that long to find another Kate? Despair filled him at the thought. There was no other woman like her.
But he didn't want another Kate. He was better off without her. This way, he could go back to his original plan of finding a wife more suited to the life he planned to lead. Maybe he'd never share the fire he'd shared with Kate, but a guy couldn't have everything.
Yeah, right, he thought wearily.
He'd never been more wrong or arrogant about anything in his life.
He'd been stupid blind. A woman who'd struggled to build her own life on her own terms would hate his interference, and rightly so.
He'd completely ignored the aspects of Kate's personality he loved the most, all of the things that made her the special, strong, surprising woman he couldn't resist. Oh, God, he loved her. To the depths of his soul. But loving her hadn't been enough. She'd needed his understanding as well.
For the first time in his life, his plans had gone awry. And he'd just wasted two months because of his wounded pride, holding on to useless anger and denying the truth. He just hoped it wasn't too late to sort out this mess.
* * *
Katie unlocked the showroom door, turned off the alarm system and went straight for the coffeemaker. Her morning routine hadn't varied in the last three months. She started the coffee and turned to survey the new cars on the floor.
Sales had been faltering before she'd arrived to take over from Peter Yetz, she realized, glancing at the sales board in the staff room.
When she'd come to Rollie for a job, he'd eased his son out of sales and put him in charge of Human Resources for his whole chain.
Rollie had taken a chance on her, a huge chance. But he was known as a risk taker. He'd made it to where he was by having an instinct for people, he'd told her, and he was sure she had potential. He'd added that he'd learned more about her by hearing what she'd said to Jace that day than he would have otherwise. Her reaction to being pushed into a corner surprised him. He had liked the way she'd handled herself. Standing up to a man like Jace must have been difficult, but she'd held her own.
The coffee finished brewing and she filled her mug. She walked into her corner office, shut the door and put the coffee mug down.
She picked up the ad proof she needed to approve and wondered what Harry would think of what she was doing now. She took a long, much-needed sip of coffee and sat in her chair. Harry's operation may not have been much compared to acres of new cars and SUVs, but she missed the old dump and the geezer who ran it.
She didn't want to think about Jace. Especially not in the daylight. She reserved those thoughts for the deep, dark night when she couldn't avoid them.
What he'd done still hurt more than she could bear. She'd given up chastising herself for getting involved with him a long time ago, but the pain wouldn't go away. She still felt beaten, as if she'd been through an emotional storm that had flattened her. She'd gone to the doctor for a complete checkup, convinced there had to be something more wrong with her than a broken heart.
Unbelievably, she'd been given a clean bill of health. She couldn't figure it out. Even if Jace had left for Zurich without trampling all over her, she'd still be without him. She would still miss him, but his complete misunderstanding of her hurt far more than the distance between them.
How could she love a man who clearly had no idea who she was?
Outside her office, she heard the staff gathering for their weekly meeting. She set aside her painful memories, and went to join them.
Right now, Rollie wanted her to push the sales team to sell more extended warranty packages. She sighed. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Where was the challenge in that?
Later on, the m
eeting concluded, the ad approved and a phone call from Rollie behind her, Kate left for lunch.
She often spent her lunch break hiding among the tourists strolling Pike Place Market. On her way back to her car, she saw a bookstore window that held a coffee table book. The collection of photographs was titled Switzerland: A Montage.
She went inside to take a closer look.
She picked it up and put it back down, then picked it up again. She snorted at her foolishness and stared at the cover, not seeing it.
Suddenly, she was too angry to stand still. She strode to the cashier's desk.
She'd given up a job and a place she loved. She'd left people who cared about her. She'd left her family. Why? Because she'd been too frightened to reach out and take what Jace had offered.
She waited in line, smoothed her hand across the glossy cover, ran her fingertip along the edge, but she didn't open it. Jace had been wrong, she hadn't been blind. She had just refused to see.
When she came back from lunch, Harry was sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk. She set the unwieldy package on the corner, hoping Harry wouldn't notice it.
"Took you long enough," he said sourly. "Is a two-hour lunch the way I taught you to sell cars?"
She grinned, pleased to see him.
He'd obviously tried to slick his hair down, but it just wouldn't stay put. She counted four cowlicks doing what they do best. And he'd finally perfected his hangdog look. How could such an old grouch look so dear? How could she have let all this time go by without as much as a phone call?
"Hi," she said softly. "How've you been? Taking care of yourself?"
He snorted. "Brenda's doing that for me."
Sweet Ride! Page 13