by Sandra Brown
Kathleen swung open the wide door and closed it behind her, poignantly reminded of the first day she had walked through it. She still liked this room. Going over to the stereo components on the bookshelf, she turned the radio to an FM station. She went to the windows and drew the blinds, plunging the room into semidarkness. As long as she had to wait, maybe she would get in a nap. She hadn’t slept at all for the last few nights.
Taking off her shoes, she lay down on the comfortable leather sofa and closed her eyes. It was dim and quiet. In no more than a few minutes, she was asleep.
The dream was particularly pleasant. Erik was there. But he wasn’t the angry, bitter man who had pinned her against the wall of the cabana. He was the old Erik, the one with laughter in his eyes, and lips prone to smiling.
In the dream, he leaned over her and, with his little finger, lifted a curl away from her cheek. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Then his lips were on hers, moving over them with precision, urging them to open, encouraging her tongue to join his in an erotic adventure.
His hand was firm on her waist, but it began to move. Slowly, it crept over her ribs, so painstakingly he may have been counting them. She felt him cup the underside of her breast, cradling her in his palm.
The dream changed, the tempo increased as his mouth became more imperative. She could feel the pressure of his body as it covered hers. Through the thin knit of her Diane von Furstenberg dress, she could feel his exploratory fingers finding the budding center of her breast, caressing it with increased desire.
It was so real. His kisses were so warm. His hand was so accurate as he coaxed her into deeper passion. Round and round, his thumb circled her. His body was so heavy. So heavy…
Her eyes flew open and her subconscious fear was confirmed. It was no dream. Erik was lying beside her on the narrow sofa! She thrashed her arms and legs against him. “Let me up, Erik,” she commanded with venom. “Get away from me.”
Unexpectedly, he did as she asked. Rising from the sofa, he laughed with satanic glee. “I wondered when you were going to wake up. Or was that little pornographic dream you were having all an act?” His eyes slid to her breasts, which still evidenced his touch. “No, it was no act,” he sneered.
“Shut up. I don’t even want to be in the same room with you.” Kathleen shoved her feet into her shoes and made ineffectual attempts to straighten her hair.
“Why?” he asked casually as he sprawled into one of the deep easy chairs. “Are you afraid of losing control? Having a replay of the other night? I must say, you had a good time, though I was left high and dry. No pun intended.”
“You’re disgusting,” she said, jumping to her feet.
He laughed again. “I don’t think you were disgusted the other night. As I recall—”
“Will you stop talking about it!” she screamed, and covered her face with her hands. She drew several restorative breaths while she tried vainly to compose herself. “The repulsion I feel for you can in no way measure the disgust that I feel for myself for letting you touch me in the first place. Now, are you leaving or am I?”
The muscles in his jaw were working and she knew that she had struck a nerve, but she couldn’t afford to be merciful.
“I have an appointment with your husband,” he said tightly.
“Fine. I’ll see him at home.”
She managed to get to the door. She was even allowed to open it. That was as far as she got. Erik’s large, tanned hand came from around her, slapped against the door and slammed it with emphasis. At the same time, his body trapped her between him and the oak door, both equally impregnable.
“Not so fast, Mrs. Kirchoff. You have something of mine that I want.”
The blood in her veins froze and she closed her eyes against the vertigo that shook her. Wedged as she was between him and the door, she barely managed to turn and look up at him with imploring eyes. “Wh-What?” she asked tremulously.
“My son.”
She shook her head and mouthed words soundlessly. Finally, she croaked, “No. He’s my son.”
“I ought to wring your neck for having my child without notifying me. I would gladly kill you for that.”
Kathleen didn’t doubt what he said for one moment. “How would you have explained Theron to your wife?”
Erik stared down into her face. There was no guilt, no remorse that she had discovered his deception, only a stunned blankness. Slowly, he stepped away from her, still with that stupefied expression on his face. His arms dangled loosely at his sides.
She pushed past him, moved to the window, and opened the blinds, flooding the room with harsh, revealing light. The stereo components were switched off peremptorily. She immediately regretted having done that. The cessation of the music only made the silence more palpable.
She returned to the window and stared out, looking down at the traffic far below. His words, when they came at last, were hoarse and full of incredulity, dispelling any doubt of their veracity.
“Kathleen, I don’t have a wife. I’ve never been married.”
She spun around and looked at him with naked bewilderment. Between them stretched a gulf of misunderstanding. Her eyes scanned his face for signs of deceit, but there were none. His own shattered features reflected the hopelessness she felt.
Before either could move or speak, George opened the door and Seth wheeled through it. His good mood had been restored. His voice was cheerful when he saw them both, and he said, “What a nice reception. Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have cut lunch short. How are you, Erik?”
Still stunned, responding reflexively, Erik turned and shook Seth’s outstretched hand. “Fine.” He cleared his throat and said again, “Fine.”
“Good. Are you ready to start on our project? Have you found a place to live?” As usual, Seth’s face was open and guileless, ready to help, understand and… forgive.
“Yes,” Erik answered. “I bought a condo. Right now, it’s four empty walls. I’ve got to furnish it.”
Seth laughed. “Then you’re in luck. Kathleen is great at that. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help. Won’t you, Kathleen?”
Chapter Fourteen
Kathleen darted a quick glance at Erik and then looked back at her husband. “I… I’m sure that if Erik wanted a decorator, he would engage one,” she said safely. What had Erik just told her? What had he said? He had no wife? He had no wife! And never had!
“Oh, but decorators are so… professional. If he hires a decorator, his place will look like our living room—too perfect for people to live in.”
That was the first time Kathleen had heard Seth make even a veiled criticism of his sister. Right now, that wasn’t important. Indeed, it barely registered. Her mind was still circulating around what Erik had said. He had no wife. I’ve never been married. The words were repeated in her ears like a chant. The statement meant everything in the world to her.
“Kathleen is too busy to get involved with decorating a bachelor’s apartment,” Erik said.
Had he stressed the word bachelor?
Seth wheeled behind his desk and yawned politely behind his hand. “Excuse me,” he said. “I ate too much lunch.”
Seth seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, an aftershock that vibrated off the walls, a lingering remnant of the revelation that had been spoken moments before. “Tomorrow is Thursday, isn’t it? That’s one of your days off. Did you have anything special planned?”
“No, but I—”
“Erik, you?”
“No.”
“Great. Tomorrow you two can shop all day. When you’re finished, come back to the house and I’ll grill steaks out on the patio.”
Since neither of them said anything to the contrary, Seth considered the matter closed and went on to other things. Kathleen excused herself, leaning down to kiss Seth goodbye and nodding to Erik as she left.
That evening at dinner, the matter of the canceled order came up again. This time, it was Hazel who br
oached it. “I think,” she said, wiping her mouth daintily on the linen napkin, “that Kathleen has far too many responsibilities. How else could she have made such a costly error?” Seth missed the stinging implication and heard only his sister’s concern.
“I didn’t make the error,” Kathleen replied calmly.
“Darling, it doesn’t matter,” Seth said soothingly. “Everything has been taken care of now. We should have the goods within the week.”
“It does matter if someone is accusing me of being incompetent when I am no such thing,” she protested vehemently.
“Hazel didn’t mean that—”
“I’ll decide if and when I have too many responsibilities and deal with it myself. I won’t need anyone else advising me.” She stood up abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to play with Theron.”
Kathleen left the two of them in the dining room and didn’t go down again until she knew Hazel had come upstairs to her suite of rooms.
As she descended the last steps, Seth was being wheeled into his room by George. She was struck by the fatigue she saw around his eyes and mouth. His complexion, which was usually healthfully tanned by the hours of therapy he spent in the heated pool, was gray. Violet shadows under his eyes, which had appeared faint in the daytime, now looked drastically darker in the evening.
“Seth,” she said, squatting down so she could rest her head against his knee. She noticed that George had tactfully withdrawn. “I’m sorry if I sounded out of sorts at dinner. I can’t explain what happened, but you must know that I didn’t cancel that Polo order, no matter what other crises I may have had on my mind at the time.”
She felt the steady pressure of his hand as he stroked her hair. “My sweet Kathleen. I don’t know what happened either, but I’d forgive you no matter what you did. I love you.” His voice was soothing, and his words, which she knew he meant deep in his soul, pierced her heart. She burrowed her head closer against the legs that couldn’t feel the tenderness she felt for him.
“I’ve been worried about you, Seth,” she said quietly. “Are you feeling well these days?” She raised her head and looked closely into his eyes, which were clouded with something she couldn’t define. All she knew was that they didn’t shine with the exhilaration she usually saw there.
“I’m fine. What could be wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “You’d tell me if you didn’t feel well, wouldn’t you?”
“If it would guarantee your love, I’d tell you my deepest, darkest secrets.” He smiled, but his jest fell flat.
“I do love you, Seth.” She meant it. Who couldn’t love this man? He represented everything that was good and kind in the world.
His face turned serious but was warm with love. “I know you do,” he whispered. “You and Theron mean so much to me, Kathleen, that sometimes my love is painful. It’s as if my body can’t contain it, as if I’ll burst for loving you so hard. Do you understand?”
Yes, she did. She knew the emotion he was trying to convey. She had felt it for the past two years, and with as much anguish over its unrequited state as Seth’s.
“You are beautiful, Kathleen. Truly beautiful. I want to memorize your face for the time I’ll spend in eternity.” His fingers followed the path charted by his eyes as they traveled over her features.
His intensity and choice of words frightened her, and she cried softly, “Seth,” as she gripped his hand.
“Come now,” he said briskly, pulling her up to receive his kiss on the cheek. “Let a hard-working man go to bed. Besides, you’ve got a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. You do like Erik, don’t you, Kathleen?”
She could see how important her opinion was to him. “Of course. And I think what he’s going to do for Kirchoff’s is fantastic. You made a wise decision.”
The relief on Seth’s face was worth any turmoil she would suffer from being and working closely with Erik. “I’m glad you approve. I want the two of you to get along. You don’t mind that I offered your services as a decorator, do you? I know you enjoy that kind of thing, and you spend far too much time here with only me, George and Alice, and Hazel for company. Not to mention the demands Theron makes on you.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re my family. But I don’t mind helping Erik if you want me to.”
“Good.” He seemed satisfied. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He pulled her down and, this time, kissed her sweetly on the lips.
Sensing that their private time was over, George came out of the shadows. He said goodnight and opened the door to Seth’s bedroom, closing it quietly after Seth had steered his chair through.
Kathleen had never been invited into that room. She never questioned Seth about its absolute privacy. Perhaps the trappings of his disability were too visible in his bedroom. She accepted his decision and respected it. If she could help it, she would never do anything to embarrass or injure the man who had given her a future when she had had none.
* * *
What could she wear? Kathleen pondered the contents of her three closets. With a typically feminine anxiety, she decided that nothing she had was appropriate.
She scolded herself for acting like a silly teenager. She wasn’t going on a date with a special beau. She was only going shopping with Erik, and he had seen her both dressed to the nines and wearing the navy shorts and white T-shirt that were the Mountain View uniform. He had also seen her in nothing at all.
Kathleen blushed at that thought. Gloriously naked, she had lain in his bed, and he had seen her in his shower with soap and water combining into foaming rivers all over her body that he navigated with his hands and mouth. Did he ever remember? The stain in her cheeks became deeper. The familiarity with which he had touched her in the past few days proved that he remembered her body well.
Finally, she selected a pair of brown leather jeans that Seth had insisted she buy. He was proud of her figure and often coerced her into modeling in the lavish fashion shows she had instigated at Kirchoff’s. He was too generous with his gifts, urging her to buy at least one garment for herself from each house she visited when she went to New York.
When they went on their frequent tours of the stores, if Seth saw something in Kathleen’s size that he liked, he stripped it off the hanger and handed it to her with a beguiling smile. “You’d look swell in this, kid,” he’d say with a Humphrey Bogart slur. She never argued with him. If she could please him by wearing pretty clothes, she was all too glad to do it. There was so little she could do for him.
Kathleen felt a pang of guilt at her jittery nerves as she finished dressing. Was she being unfaithful to Seth by anticipating the outing with Erik? No, she argued with herself. Seth was the one who had planned it. She was really doing this for him. But as she looked at herself critically in the mirror, she knew that she was doing this for herself, too.
She had put on a silk shirt with the pants. The electric-blue color deepened the emerald-green of her eyes. The toes of her imported Italian boots shone with the same saddle-brown of the jeans. She let her hair hang loose so it waved around her face and shoulders like a copper scarf.
She ran lightly down the stairs just as the doorbell was ringing. It was only natural that she call out, “I’ll get it, Alice,” but her footsteps faltered noticeably on the stairs.
Gripping the doorknob as though it were a lifeline, she swung open the door before she could chicken out.
Erik stared at her over the threshold. He didn’t say anything as he raked her with greedy eyes. The muscles in his throat worked convulsively. When at last his gaze rose to meet hers, he said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” It took all the breath she could muster to speak, for he looked gorgeous. He was as slim-hipped as ever, as the tight jeans emphasized. A dark plaid cotton shirt was stretched over the muscles of his broad chest and shoulders. A camel-colored cardigan was knotted casually around his neck. “Come in,” she murmured, stepping aside to let him enter. She could smell his colo
gne as he walked past her. “Seth wanted to say goodbye. He’s having breakfast with Theron.” Erik stopped, turned around and looked at her, and then nodded. “I’d like to see him, too.”
She didn’t know if he was referring to Seth or Theron and felt it was safer not to ask. She walked a few steps ahead of Erik, leading him through the labyrinth of the first floor until they reached the bright, sunny breakfast room off the kitchen.
They were greeted with peals of laughter as Kathleen pushed open the swinging door. “What’s going on in here?” she asked brightly. Too brightly?
The center of attention was Theron, who was still pajama-clad and sitting in his high chair. In his hand, he held a long banana and was trying his best to peel it.
“Hi,” Seth said. “Alice, get Erik some coffee, please. Sit down. We’re having a time here. He’s been trying for five minutes to figure out how to get to the inside of that banana, but he won’t let any of us do it for him. Watch.”
Seth leaned over closer to the high chair and said, “Theron, let me peel the banana for you.” He reached for the fruit, but the little boy hugged it tight to him until Seth’s hand was withdrawn, and then he renewed his struggle to peel it himself.
“Isn’t he something?” Seth asked rhetorically with pride.
“Yes, he is,” Erik answered gruffly, and Kathleen whirled her head around to look at him. By the unnatural sound of his voice, she almost expected to see tears in his eyes, but to her relief there were none. He only stared at his son as possessively as he had looked at her minutes before. She knew a quickening of pity for him. How torturous it must be to see his son and not be able to claim him.
A triumphant gurgle drew her attention back to the boy as he finally conquered the banana. Within seconds, the skinned banana was being shoved into his mouth until it disappeared altogether.
“He’s the stubbornest baby I’ve ever seen,” Alice said, shaking her head, predicting dire outcomes for such hard-headedness.
“Are you going to work out in the pool this morning?” Kathleen asked Seth, whom she was glad to see looked rested and more himself than he had last night.