by Sandy Loyd
“Ah yes—James. How could I forget about him?” He offered an apologetic half smile and refocused on his reading material. “I imagine I’m a lousy substitute for my brother.”
A genuine smile broke free despite all the angst residing in her system. If only he knew her true thoughts on the subject—that she was a lousy substitute for Judith. She laughed outright. It was better than crying.
“What?” His gaze centered back on her face. “You think me being a lousy substitute is funny?” He shook his head. “That hurts my feelings.”
Unsure of whether he was serious or not, she eyed him thoughtfully. “It’s not that.” She’d take his sensitivity over James’ lack of attention any day, but no way could she disclose that fact.
His eyebrows quirked, clearly saying, Then what?
“I was just thinking how much fun he and Judith missed by not coming this weekend,” she lied. “James is such a workaholic. It’s too bad CHP closed the roads.”
He nodded. “Yeah, Judith is working long hours too. They both missed out.” He hesitated a moment then added, “So do you think James’ workload will ever slow down?”
No, she thought, offering instead, “It has to eventually.” She inhaled deeply and threw him a quick smile. “If you don’t mind, I prefer not to dwell on James or Judith’s work ethics. Hopefully, we can drive back to the city tomorrow and this weekend will go down in the annals as a bad weekend and we’ll both move on with our lives.”
“Yeah.” With an agitated snap of his wrist, Paul flipped to the next page as his posture stiffened. “Just a bad weekend all around.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Kate quickly interjected. “I just meant that my eyes have been opened to what I need to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Break things off with James. I can’t move forward until I do.”
“Well, that should definitely get his attention and give him a good wake-up call. You’ll probably get a ring.”
“I don’t want a ring. Not any longer.”
His brows arched, and those blues eyes underneath them were full of skepticism.
“It’s true.” So what if he didn’t believe her. It was more important that she believe it.
He eyed her for a long moment, before nodding. “Guess we’re both on the same page, since I’m ready to throw in the towel with Judith.”
“What?” Her eyes widened in horror. “Why in the hell would you give up now?” Though she asked the question, she had more than a sneaking suspicion that this weird attraction between them was the reason.
“I’d be stupid not to follow your sage example.”
“My situation is entirely different from yours and you know it.” She crossed her arms and glared at him, daring him to dispute the fact. Heaven help her—she did not want to be the cause of their breakup. “Judith just needs more time to get her business up and running.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and refocusing on his work in an obvious dismissal.
I know so, she thought, sighing and retrieving her book lying beside the discarded magazine. For the next few hours, the three worst of her life, she pretended to read…all the while acting as if the man working little more than an arm’s length away didn’t bother her.
When he finally reached for his briefcase, stuffed his reading material inside and stood, she sent up a prayer of thanks.
“Would you like a glass of wine? We’re out of the French stuff, but red goes better with hot dogs anyway.”
“I’m a beer and hot dogs kind of gal,” she said in an effort to lighten the mood. “But I’ve been known to sacrifice my standards for whatever’s available.” So what if red wine gave her headaches. It would definitely help calm her frazzled nerves. Still, she’d limit herself to one glass now and one at dinner. No sense losing her inhibitions by overindulging, even though she’d love to drown her misery in something, headache producing or not.
Carrying two goblets by the stems in one hand, the wine and opener in the other, Paul strode toward her, still appearing all too composed for her peace of mind. “Just be thankful it’s a decent cab and not Boone’s Farm, which what I used to drink in college when we were out of beer.” He set the glasses down, then sat back at his end of the sofa to uncork the bottle.
After pouring, he caught her eye and handed her a glass before picking up the other. “The wine may have been cheap back then, but the company was always rich. Just as it is tonight,” he said, offering a toast and giving her a smoldering look that could melt the polar ice caps. Then the look disappeared so fast, Kate wasn’t sure if her imagination had gone into overdrive. She gulped down more than a sip, wondering if she was slowly going insane.
Please, just let me go just one more night without making a complete fool of myself.
Then, if she survived unscathed, she vowed to dump James and do everything in her power to find Mr. Right. Unfortunately, Paul owned Judith’s heart, so he was no more Mr. Right than his brother. No amount of wishful thinking would change that fact.
~
“Want to keep me company while I cook?” Paul asked, pulling the trigger on the long lighter. Like the previous evening, he’d made his way around the room and now lit the last candle.
When Kate looked up, appearing startled by his question, he repeated it, adding with a shrug, “I just figured you needed a break from reading.” Did he sound like a sap or what? Why not just put a sign on my back that says, ‘Lonely.’ “Never mind. It was a stupid suggestion.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Kate set her book aside and stood. “And you’re absolutely right. I do need a break. Besides, it’s getting too dark to read.”
He started for the kitchen.
She followed and leaned against the counter while he gathered the hot dogs, mustard, ketchup, and relish from the fridge.
As Paul glanced over at her while shutting the door with his rear end, he was glad for the groceries in his hands that prevented him from acting on a sudden, overwhelming urge to hug Kate. He never should have begged for her company, he now realized. Especially when dusk’s shadows and the candlelight only softened her features and gave her a vulnerable appearance. He fought to ignore the glimpse of sadness he also caught in her expression—one that was much too solitary—reminding him of himself. He discarded the idea. Kate Winters was the least solitary person he knew. While he preferred his private lifestyle, her animated personality always drew a crowd.
He dropped the items on the counter and bent to search through the cabinets for a pan. After adding water, he set the pan on the burner, then turned to face her. “How about another glass of wine?”
She shook her head. “Not until dinner is served. But I’d love some water.” She proceeded to get it herself, then moved to her previous spot against the counter and downed half the bottle. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she smiled. “I could get used to having a man wait on me.”
She’d obviously meant the words as a joke, but there was still a hint of something akin to painful realization in her tone that grabbed his heart and squeezed. Hard. What the hell was wrong with James?
Don’t look at her. Otherwise, you’ll do something totally crazy, like try to comfort her. And that would be a big mistake. Touching her would lead to kissing, and kissing…well, it was just better if he didn’t touch her.
He switched on the burner, then poured himself another glass of wine and took a sip, purposefully keeping his gaze on anything but Kate.
She was probably thinking about breaking things off with James. Paul had a good idea of what made his brother tick. Everything had always come easy to him. Kate, in his opinion, was one of those things. Mainly because she’d always been too available, which happened to be exactly the reason Paul had always given her so much grief. But James was no idiot. Once she quit being the aggressor and walked away, his brother would then realize what he was losing and take decisive action.
Was he a little envious of his brother? He groaned inwardly at the thought, un
settled by what that meant. Maybe it had always bothered him—on a subconscious level—that James never had to work at sustaining his relationship, while he’d worked tenaciously to merely gain Judith’s friendship.
Staring into the burner’s flames, Paul prayed for the water to boil faster.
He picked up his wine and sipped, wondering why he enjoyed having Kate nearby observing his cooking. The scene seemed so cozy…almost intimate. A brief glimpse of them spending more time in similar situations shot through his brain, and a longing for what would never be tightened the knot of regret forming in his gut.
First Judith and now Kate. What quirk of nature made him ignore those women he’d dated over the years and desire the only two he could never have? Was it because they were unattainable? Was that the draw?
To harbor a craving for what James had only added to his misery, especially when the desire for more than friendship with Kate was a hundred times stronger than what he felt for Judith. Even worse, he could never reveal his feelings because he doubted he could deal with seeing the truth in Kate’s eyes. Being considered just friends with Judith was a cakewalk compared to taking second place in Kate’s life behind James.
Paul took another large sip, hoping to dull the yearning.
If only one of them could be happy, he was glad it was her.
~
Kate sighed, content to watch Paul cook.
The object of her silent perusal finished dumping four hot dogs into the steaming pan, then turned around and winked. “Wait until you taste these. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
She laughed, trying to ignore that grin that never failed to steal her breath. She certainly didn’t want to think about the way his crinkling, blue eyes tugged on heartstrings that were near their breaking point. “I’m sure it will be delicious. Besides, it’s hard to ruin hot dogs.”
She could stand here for hours, she realized, as the same sense of well-being that encompassed her last night while sharing space with him returned full force. She seldom felt this comfortable around James and the realization disturbed her more than a little, reinforcing her decision to break things off. There were so many differences in the brothers’ actions—one in particular. Last night, Paul had clearly appreciated her meal, throwing out compliments right and left. James had always taken her cooking for granted, in fact almost expected it without ever complimenting her on a job well done. Of course, she enjoyed cooking and didn’t do it for the praise, but to have her efforts recognized was more than a nice surprise. A courtesy that Paul extended and James didn’t. Just like offering to cook. In eight years, James had never once offered.
One thing led to another, and she found herself making other comparisons. Why did Paul seem so much more perceptive of her feelings than James? James wasn’t rude by any means, was always generous and giving. But he was clueless about the things she found important.
She could be herself around Paul and he acted as if he enjoyed her that way. She never felt totally at ease with James. How sad to realize that by continually trying to get him to commit, she’d molded herself into what she thought he needed instead of who she was. The realization stopped her cold. How in the hell had she deceived herself for so long?
Thank God, she’d finally figured it out. With a little help from a friend. She smiled at Paul’s back as he pulled buns out of the package.
“I guess it’s time to set the table.” She stowed her thoughts away and hurried to do the chore.
“All ready,” he said a few minutes later, walking past her with two platters. He set them down. “While my skill is nowhere near your level, I hope you enjoy my one and only cooking talent.”
“I can’t wait to dig in.” She followed him and pulled out a chair to sit. “Hot dogs are my idea of a feast and they look delicious.”
“Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” He jumped up, rushed to the kitchen, then brought back a full glass of wine and bowed. “For one beautiful lady,” he said, holding it out.
The hand tracing the condensation on her water glass stilled and her wary gaze moved to his eyes. When nothing but sincerity shone in those blue depths, her eyes watered. It just wasn’t fair, she thought, blinking back tears as she took the glass. “Quit being so nice. It’s better if I hate you.”
He sat back down without answering. In her peripheral vision, she noticed him picking up his wineglass. Instead of taking a drink, he hesitated, holding the glass inches from his mouth.
“Do you honestly believe after all we’ve been through, that either of us can hate the other?” His voice was hushed, drawing her gaze.
His intense stare held hers. For endless seconds she couldn’t look away. Finally, she did, more confused than ever. It was as if she could see all the way to his soul. As beautiful as it was, it was also lonely, which didn’t make sense. He couldn’t feel alone. Not when he had Judith.
Shaking the unsettling notion, she refocused on the hot dog. Yet, she couldn’t dismiss as easily the sense of connection that touched everything inside her being.
She took a bite, chewed, and eventually swallowed even as dissatisfaction over her failed relationship slammed into her from every angle. Now she was positive she and James were never meant to be.
After that, neither spoke.
The temperature dropped as they ate; a definite chill began seeping into the room.
Shivering, Kate took her last sip of wine, then set her glass on the table and rubbed her arms. Despite the heavy sweater she wore, her hands and feet were already freezing.
She hated being cold, which meant moving to the warmer room sooner rather than later.
Paul stood, grabbing both empty plates. On his way to the kitchen, he said, “It’s getting pretty cold out here. Why don’t you go and get comfortable in the other room, while I do dishes?” He added, almost as an afterthought, “I’ll take my time.”
“Okay.” She smiled and nodded. What a sweetheart. He’s giving me space.
“But first, I’ll get the fire going again in there.” After putting the plates in the sink, he quickly headed for the bedroom.
Kate followed and stood at the door to observe his capable movements, briskly rubbing her arms as he removed the grate and kneeled in front of the fireplace.
He added more wood to the embers, then stoked the logs. Kate’s breath hitched in the back of her throat. In seconds, heat from the blazing fire enveloped her like a warm blanket and finally she was able to take in air.
She glanced at her hands and stepped toward the bed, unwilling to dwell on how attractive he looked, kneeling with poker in hand, and a lock of blond hair falling over his face. He possessed a boyish quality that made her want to go over and wrap her arms around him. What would his reaction be if she threw her scruples aside and just did it? Hugging herself, she grinned.
He chose that moment to turn and look up at her.
She laughed. Heavens! This is becoming a habit.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, now eying her intently.
“You really don’t want to know.”
“Ah, another secret!” A small smile crept across his face. “How I wish things were different and I could pry your secrets out of you.” He moved to poke the fire one more time before reluctantly rising. He placed the tool with the others. “I’ll be in later.” Then he was gone, having shut the door on his way out.
Standing as still as stone, Kate eyed the closed door for a long moment before sighing.
She rushed to wash her face and brush her teeth. After exchanging jeans for sweats, she quickly got under the covers. Several relaxing breaths later, she let her body go limp. She intended to be fast asleep before he finished in the other room.
Chapter 11
Paul worked slowly, using the mindless chore of washing and rinsing dishes to keep his thoughts off the woman in the other room.
The countertops and stove wiped down, he then topped off his wine, picked up his glass, and started for the living room sofa, blowing out cand
les along his way. He decided to give Kate more time, mainly because he needed it too. So he plopped himself down on the sofa and rested his feet on the coffee table.
He gazed into the flames, taking the occasional sip of wine, and a sense of peace settled over him. Despite the mess his love life was in, he couldn’t help believing things would improve. He swallowed the last of the cabernet, yet made no effort to move. He was too relaxed.
A noise disturbed the quiet, and Paul glanced up. His eyes narrowed in confusion at the vision of Kate standing before him. It took a moment to find his bearings. He was still at the house in Tahoe, so he must have awakened from a deep sleep.
Kate leaned closer, then smiled and whispered his name. The yearning in her eyes matched the longing in his heart. He patted the spot next to him on the sofa. She quickly obeyed his silent request and sat beside him. Then she did the unexpected, turning his way and sliding her fingers around his neck, and with beckoning eyes, pulled him closer.
He didn’t waste precious time trying to figure it out. He simply acquiesced to her invitation and lowered his mouth to hers. The moment their lips connected, if was if he was tasting manna from heaven, which eased some of the hunger in his heart.
Her contented sigh floated somewhere above him at the same time her hands began moving down his back.
She was so warm…so tempting…so responsive.
The longing to possess her increased exponentially in those few seconds, but he didn’t dare overstep his boundaries. Suddenly, his worst fears came to fruition when he realized he no longer held her. Her laughter filled his head while disappointment and heartache filled his soul.
“Paul?”
His name drifted from afar.
“Wake up, Paul. The power’s on.”
He slowly emerged from a sleep-induced fog into reality. Opening his eyes, he saw Kate leaning over him so near he felt the warmth of her breath, only this time it wasn’t a dream.
Their stares locked. Something indefinable passed between them, then grew. He planted his feet on the ground and sat up straighter to break the connection. Several questions played in his mind—his biggest? What would she do if he kissed her as he was dying to do?