Sean kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then they sat in companionable silence, holding hands and waiting.
An hour later a doctor came out and told them the senator was conscious and asking for his daughter. There was every reason to believe he’d recover.
With a small cry of relief, Kate flung her arms around Sean and squeezed. The embrace ended too soon, for she was anxious to see her father.
Sean glanced at his watch. If he hurried, he could still catch his plane. He would have to stop at Kate’s to pick up the rest of his things, but that wouldn’t take long since he’d never really unpacked.
“Goodbye, love,” he said gently, touching her cheek.
“Your things—you’ll need a key—” She rushed to find her purse and gave him her spare set.
A feeling of immense loneliness swept over Sean as he walked to the elevators. He made a point of not looking back; he knew she wouldn’t be there.
*
Two weeks after the senator’s heart attack, he was at home, preparing to return to Washington, where one of his aides had been voting as his proxy. Although things were better between Kate and her father, she still had no intention of going back to work on his staff. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do with the rest of her life but, for once, she planned to be the one who made the decisions.
Her passport and Australian tourist visa were in the mailbox when she arrived home from visiting her parents one afternoon. She was really going to do it. She was going to pack her bags, buy an airline ticket and fly to Australia to see Gil.
As for what had happened—or almost happened—between her and Sean, well, that had been nothing more than a momentary lapse. A reaction to her disappointment over the breaking of her engagement. Whenever she thought about that night, she was grateful that Sean had been too much of a gentleman to take advantage of her pain and confusion.
“Bring the boy back with you,” her father instructed her the next morning when she stopped by the house on her way to the airport.
Kate sighed. “I can’t just grab him and throw him on an airplane,” she pointed out. “I promise to take lots of pictures, though, and if Sean will let me, maybe I can bring Gil here for a visit.”
“Just get him here. There’s an election coming up in November, and I want to be seen as a family man.”
Kate bent to kiss her father’s wan forehead. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she warned. “Sean doesn’t trust you, and he’s not likely to do you any favors.”
“He has a lot of gall, keeping a man from his own grandson. This wouldn’t be happening if my Abby were still alive, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t stand for it.”
The senator’s words seemed to imply some lack in Kate. “Abby is dead,” she reminded him gently.
She saw the old pain move in his keenly intelligent eyes. “Yes. And as far as I’m concerned, we have Sean Harris to blame for it.”
Kate knew there would be no point in arguing in Sean’s defense. To the senator, it would be like trying to vindicate the devil. “I’ll see you when I get back. Don’t overdo.”
The senator was already reaching for the telephone. Kate gave him a fond half smile and left the room.
Her mother was waiting in the hallway.
“I know I told you you should get away,” she began immediately, “but I really wasn’t thinking of any place so far off!”
Kate squeezed her mother’s perfectly manicured, lotion-scented hand. “I’ll be fine, Mother.”
“That’s what Abby said,” Irene fretted, “and look what happened to her.”
Kate sighed. She had known her older sister better than anyone except, perhaps, for Sean. While Abby had certainly looked like an angel, she’d been spoiled and selfish, too, and her temper had been quick. Kate kissed her mother’s cheek. “Goodbye, Mother,” she said.
Irene caught at her arm when she started toward the door. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know,” Kate answered honestly.
Hastily Irene embraced her daughter. She was not an effusive woman, and the gesture was decidedly awkward. “There’ll be another man along soon, dear,” she promised, completely misreading Kate’s emotions as usual. “You mustn’t let breaking up with Brad get you down.”
Kate let the comment pass. “I’ll see you soon, Mother,” she said, and then she was outside and the warm June sun was on her face.
It was winter in Australia, but she didn’t care. She would be far away from old entanglements there; she would be able to think clearly and decide what to do with the rest of her life.
*
The night breeze was cool and fragrant as Kate stood on the balcony outside her hotel room, watching the dark ocean reach out to the pale sand and then slowly fall away. She would spend just this one night in Honolulu before traveling on to Fiji, Auckland, New Zealand, and, finally, Sydney.
She thought about Gil. Judging by the picture Sean had given her parents, the boy was a handsome blonde with his mother’s wide brown eyes. She hoped he was more like Sean than Abby.
Below, the hotel pool sparkled like a huge aquamarine, and island music wafted up from the open doors of the lounge. On impulse, Kate decided to go for a swim. Quickly she changed out of her white cotton nightgown and into her sleek new one-piece swimsuit. Then, wearing a blue eyelet cover-up and carrying a towel, she took an elevator downstairs.
The sound of friendly laughter came from inside the lounge as Kate approached the shimmering pool. She looked up at the tropical moon, and for a single moment, her loneliness almost overwhelmed her. She plunged into the water to escape it, and when she surfaced, she felt more hopeful. After a short swim, she climbed out of the pool, dried off and ordered a mai tai to carry back to her room.
Four tractor salesmen from Iowa were in the elevator with Kate, and they invited her to their party. She declined politely and got off two floors below her own.
When she finally arrived in her room, the message light on her telephone was blinking. For a moment she was afraid. Suppose her father had had another heart attack? Suppose this time he’d died?
Kate forced herself to call the main desk. “This is Kate Blake in room 403,” she said evenly. “Do you have a message for me?”
The operator asked her to wait for a moment, and Kate heard paper shuffling.
“Yes, Ms. Blake,” came the answer. “You had a call from Mr. Wilshire in room 708. He’d like you to contact him immediately.”
Kate felt cold all over, as though she’d just plunged into the pool again. She managed a strangled thank-you and slammed down the receiver.
Brad was here, in this very hotel. Obviously he’d followed her, and he’d jumped bail to do it.
Kate peeled off her suit, showered and put on a sundress and sandals. When she’d combed her hair, she hurled the few things she’d unpacked back into her suitcase, called the desk and asked that her bill be prepared. She would spend the night at the airport.
When Kate opened the door to leave, however, Brad was standing in the hallway, smiling at her. “Maybe we can still have a honeymoon,” he said.
Chapter 4
Kate resisted an urge to flee back into her room and slam the door. Brad would be delighted to see that he’d intimidated her. “I thought you weren’t supposed to leave the state,” she said evenly.
Brad was dressed for the tropics in white pants and a lightweight sport shirt to match. He folded his arms and smiled ingratiatingly. “The charges against me have been dropped because of insufficient evidence. The person who turned me in wasn’t—” he paused, searching his mind for the right word “—reliable.”
Kate’s opinion of the judicial system plummeted. She indicated her suitcase and said, “Well, congratulations to you and apologies to society in general. I was just leaving. Sorry there’s no time to talk.”
Brad’s gaze swept over her. “I’m not going to give you another chance after this, Kate,” he warned. “Either you marry me right away, or we�
�re through.”
“Don’t look now,” Kate answered, “but our relationship has been over since the night of the opera. So, if you’ll excuse me—”
Brad shook his head, as though amazed that any woman could turn down a prize like him, and turned to walk away. Kate stepped back inside her room and bolted the door.
She slept fitfully that night, half expecting Brad to break into her room. Early in the morning she showered, dressed and set out for the airport. After breakfast in one of the coffee shops there, she boarded Flight 187, bound for Fiji, New Zealand and Australia.
The trip was incredibly long, with layovers at each stop, and Kate lost a full day of her life when they crossed the international dateline. By the time she arrived in Sydney, she was rumpled, cranky and exhausted.
She took a cab to the hotel where her travel agent had made reservations and, after checking in and taking a shower, she collapsed into bed. When she awakened, it was nighttime, and the bridge stretching across Sydney Harbour glowed in the rainy darkness. Seeing the dense traffic still filling the lanes, she guessed it was still evening.
She was wildly hungry. She called room service, then, sitting cross-legged on the bed, she dialed Sean’s number.
A housekeeper answered. “Harris residence.”
For a fraction of a moment, Kate didn’t know what to say. Should she introduce herself as Abby’s sister, Gil’s aunt or Sean’s friend? “This is Kate Blake,” she finally said. “Is Mr. Harris there, please?”
“I’m sorry, miss,” the housekeeper replied, “but he’s out with friends tonight.”
Kate felt a pang of jealousy, imagining Sean on a date with some other woman, but she quickly suppressed that unworthy emotion. She wanted to see Gil; his father’s social life had nothing to do with anything. “Will you tell him I called, please?” she asked.
The housekeeper promised that she would and rang off.
Kate’s dinner arrived, and she sat on the edge of her bed to eat, feeling strange and far from home. She’d forgotten the keen sense of isolation Australia could give a person—especially when that person was traveling alone.
After wheeling the service cart out into the hall, Kate read for a while and then went back to sleep. A knock at her door awakened her early the next morning.
Never at her best at that hour, Kate scrambled awkwardly out of bed, stumbled over to the door and tried to focus one eye on the peephole. She couldn’t see anyone, and was just about to turn around and stagger back to bed when another knock sounded and a young voice called, “Auntie Kate? Are you in there?”
Kate’s heart hammered against her rib cage. She wrenched the door open and there stood seven-year-old Gil, looking up at her with Abby’s eyes. He had his mother’s hair, too, and Sean’s infectious grin.
Until that moment Kate hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to see and hold this child. With a cry of joy, she enfolded the little boy in a hug, which he bore stoically, and then ruffled his golden hair. “Am I ever glad to see you,” she said. “Where’s your dad?”
Gil pointed one finger toward the elevators. “He’s gone to get a newspaper,” he said.
Kate appreciated Sean’s attempt to give her a few minutes alone with his son. She just wished they’d called first, so she would have had time to dress.
Gil sat on the bed while she dashed into the bathroom to put on jeans and a turquoise pullover shirt. She was barefoot, both hands engaged in working her hair into a French braid, when she came out.
“You don’t look anything like the pictures of Mom,” Gil observed, watching Kate with quizzical eyes.
Of course, he would have been too little to remember Abby. A momentary sadness overtook Kate. “Your grandfather Blake used to call her his Christmas-tree angel,” she said.
“What did he call you?” Gil asked with genuine interest, and Kate realized for the first time that her father had never given her an affectionate nickname. He called her Kate if he was pleased with her and Katherine if he wasn’t.
“Just Kate,” she said.
“Dad calls you Katie-did,” Gil announced. This time Kate noticed that several teeth were missing from the endearing grin.
She searched her mind for something to say to a little boy. “Do you like to play baseball?”
Gil squinted, then shook his head. “Football,” he said. “And cricket.”
There was a light rap at the door, and Kate went to open it. When she saw Sean standing there, tall and handsome in his jeans, polo shirt and windbreaker, her heart skipped and her breath swelled in her throat.
“Hi,” she finally managed to say.
His green eyes danced. “Hello, love,” he responded. “May I come in?”
Kate remembered herself and stepped back. “Sure,” she said, feeling like an adolescent.
“We woke her up,” Gil commented, from his seat on the edge of Kate’s crumpled bed.
Sean’s gaze was as soft as a caress. “Sorry.”
Kate bit her lower lip. “It’s all right,” she replied lamely.
Sean smiled at her nervousness. “Get your bags packed, Katie-did, and we’ll take you out of here. Plenty of room at our place.”
Kate hesitated. Seeing Sean again, she knew she hadn’t really dealt with her feelings for him at all. It would be so easy to be wanton. “I…I wouldn’t want to impose,” she said quickly. “I mean, I can just as well stay here.”
Gil looked so crestfallen that Kate went to sit beside him on the bed. She draped an arm around his shoulders. “What’s this? A sad face when I’ve just come all the way from America to see you?”
“Let’s take your aunt Kate out for some breakfast,” Sean suggested quickly. He looked as disappointed as Gil.
Since it was drizzling, Kate took her raincoat. They left the hotel and walked through the clean, modern streets to a small coffee shop that Sean seemed to know.
A hearty breakfast made Kate feel better—and more adventurous. “Maybe I could stay with you for a little while,” she said to Gil, “if you’re sure I won’t be intruding.”
Gil’s coffee-brown eyes were alight. “I’ll show you my dog, Snidely,” he exclaimed, beaming. “He can roll over and play dead.”
“I’m very impressed,” Kate told him. “What else can he do?”
Gil’s expression turned sheepish. “Not much else, besides chew shoes and make messes in the garden.”
Kate laughed. “He sounds like a regular dog to me.”
“Except for Georgie Renfrew, he’s my best mate,” Gil said.
Sean winked at Kate from behind the rim of his coffee cup, and she was absurdly pleased, as though he’d made some grand gesture.
They left the coffee shop several minutes later, and Kate held Gil’s hand as they walked back to her hotel. There, she packed her things and then checked out. She, Sean and Gil took a cab to Sean’s house in an elegant section of Sydney.
It was as wonderful as Kate remembered, with a view of the harbor and the Opera House, and her room was a small suite, with its own bath and a real wood-burning fireplace. The carpets were a pale blue, the bedspread was a complementary floral print, and there was even a small balcony outside.
“It’s beautiful,” Kate told Sean softly, but she was already regretting her decision to stay in this house. The place had belonged to Abby first, just as the man had, and Kate felt like an intruder.
Sean touched the tip of her nose. “I see ghosts in your eyes. What’s the problem, Katie-did?”
Kate bit her lower lip and turned away. In the distance she could hear a dog barking with unbounded glee. Evidently Snidely and Gil had been reunited. “I’m just a little tired, I guess,” she lied.
Gently Sean turned her to face him. “And feeling just a little guilty, I think.”
Kate nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Before Sean could say anything more, Gil bounded in with a huge, hairy dog of some indeterminate breed.
“This is Snidely,” he said, glowing with prid
e.
Snidely offered a yelp in greeting and then rolled over on his side to lie completely still. Kate supposed he was playing dead.
“Good dog,” she said to please Gil.
“Take him outside before Mrs. Manchester sees him,” Sean ordered.
Reluctantly Gil led the animal out of Kate’s room.
Sean traced the outline of Kate’s cheek with one index finger. “We’ll talk later, love, when you’re settled in and rested.”
Kate nodded.
Sean bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, and Kate was almost knocked off her feet by the jolt that passed between them. In that moment she would have given her soul to lie beneath Sean, to share her body with him.
But he left her standing in the middle of that beautifully decorated room, listening to the patter of winter rain against the windows.
Kate was curled up in a chair, reading a paperback she’d brought with her on the plane, when the housekeeper rapped at the half-open door and stepped inside the room. Mrs. Manchester was a heavily built woman with friendly blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a loose chignon. She smiled at Kate and went to the hearth to build a fire.
“Nothing like a cheery blaze on a wet day,” she commented, dusting her hands together and looking back at Kate as the fire crackled to life. “Would you like some tea, miss?”
Kate shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said, and an unexpected yawn escaped with the words.
“Seems to me you might want to lie down and take a nap,” Mrs. Manchester observed. “Traveling so far takes such a lot out of a person.”
The bed did look comfortable, and the dancing flames on the hearth gave Kate a cozy, protected feeling. “I think you’re right,” she said, and kicking off her shoes, she crossed the room to stretch out on the bed.
Mrs. Manchester kindly covered her with a beautiful knitted afghan and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Kate drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a campfire under a sky ablaze with silver stars. There, in that imaginary world, Sean lay beside her, his hand on her breast. She whimpered and stretched, wanting more of his touch.
Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) Page 5