There she went again. She really did need to focus.
Katherine cleared her throat. “—Anyway, I have my own reason for inviting you. And that’s the truth. Something I’m not about to let slide even if nothing comes of tonight. I want answers behind the missing boys at the shelter. They counted on me and the system. We both failed.”
Clark tugged at her hand. “Don’t blame yourself. It doesn’t help anyone.”
Katherine sighed. “You’re right. I’ll try.”
“Good.” Bending, he skimmed his lips across her temple in a tender yet fleeting kiss.
At the simple gesture and her acute response, Katherine closed her eyes briefly. Given enough time, she could trust Clark, which frightened the heck out of her. To give all that power and control into the hands of one person....
Clark opened the front door. “Tonight, you just might get those answers, but they might not be what you want to hear. Are you ready for that?”
Chapter 11
Straightening, Katherine met the concern in Clark’s eyes. “I really don’t have much choice, now do I?”
She then affixed a smile on her face and stepped inside and into a role she’d grown familiar with. Music, laughter, a multitude of varying voices immediately surrounded her, but it was nothing she hadn’t experienced. For so long, she’d played the game of a Senator’s daughter, always mindful of each and every word that slipped from her mouth. Katherine was tired of it—as far back as her early teens—probably even longer. So she acted.
She’d always felt as if she never belonged, never sparkled, never held her own in an intelligent conversation with the people at these gatherings. They always consisted of a wide range of individuals—politicians, actors, entrepreneurs, scientists—and a Nobel Prize winner thrown in for diversity.
In the cloakroom, she shrugged out of her coat. Clark stood directly behind and helped her slip both arms from their sleeves before he handed their coats to an attendant. His aftershave, a woodsy, clean and distinct male scent, teased her senses.
“You smell nice,” Katherine whispered and turned around.
Clark cut a dashing figure in a black tuxedo tailored to his large frame. His thick-framed glasses softened the hard lines of his face and added a keen intelligence to his gray eyes.
“And you look beautiful.”
Katherine had curled her hair and left it unbound to fall in waves around her bare shoulders. She knew the formal black, velvet dress, a perfect and unplanned compliment to Clark’s tuxedo, accented her curves, and the low heart-shaped neckline exposed more cleavage and skin than she was accustomed to—skin that tingled at Clark’s lingering glance.
She saw admiration, then something hot in Clark’s eyes. Her breath stilled and then continued in a rapid and unsteady rhythm. When he looked at her like that, it made her feel unique, feminine, and desirable. It made her yearn for the taste and touch of him again.
Everything about him, his large hands and frame, his latent strength and rugged face, made her feel delicate and fragile when she knew she wasn’t.
This was crazy. One look from Clark and she turned into a melted marshmallow.
Suddenly feeling awkward and shy, Katherine clasped her hands in front of her. “I guess we better get this over with.”
After they left the cloakroom, Clark grabbed two fluted glasses from a passing waiter and handed her one. She took a sip of champagne but didn’t give in to the temptation to down the contents. Tonight, she needed a clear head.
“Do you see him anywhere?” Clark whispered by her ear.
Katherine glanced over the crowd. “Not yet.”
“Hmm.”
Catching Clark’s arm, she felt the corded muscles bunch beneath her fingers. She hadn’t realized he’d been masking his tension beneath a smooth and relaxed façade. “He’ll show. It’s not like my uncle’s going to miss his own party in his own house.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to the yummy man beside you?” a voice asked from behind Katherine.
Katherine turned and found Rachel in front of her. “Clark, this is my cousin’s wife, Rachel Spalding. She’s Paul’s daughter-in-law. Rachel, Clark’s a friend of mine.”
“How do you do?” Rachel asked Clark, her lips sliding into a seductive smile.
Katherine watched the two exchange pleasantries and grew uncomfortable watching Rachel flirt with Clark. Unlike Rachel, she’d never been skilled at the art. Almost every time Katherine had tried her hand at it, she’d come across sounding like a moron, so she’d quickly given up.
“No Ethan?” Rachel asked her.
“Not tonight.”
“That’s a shame. Unlike some people in the family, I really liked him. Such a wonderful sense of humor and he’s so comfortable with who he is.”
“And David?” Katherine asked in turn. “So far I haven’t seen him tonight.”
“Oh, the last I saw, he was going off somewhere to talk to Paul. Goodness knows on what. Probably work. I swear that’s all David thinks about.” She wrinkled her nose and turned to Clark. “At least I hope you have the sense to know when to have fun. Or are you one of the lucky ones with an exciting career? I’m sure with your looks, it’s something glamorous.”
“Sorry. I’m just a reporter.”
“Oh.” Rachel waved a hand around the room. “Are you doing a story on—”
“No.”
“Too boring, I’m sure.” Rachel smiled and looked him over with interest. “Let’s see. I would guess you do something dangerous, like a foreign correspondent who travels the world. Maybe someone who goes into third world countries and reports on civil wars or terrorist acts. Am I close?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Clark’s answering smile didn’t fool Katherine. He didn’t like the questions. She saw it in the hard line of his jaw and the coolness in his eyes. Either Rachel didn’t see it or she had more important things on her mind.
Before her cousin had a chance to ask another leading question, Katherine said, “Clark has a business column.”
So it was a lie, Katherine admitted, but it sounded perfectly boring and just the thing to throw Rachel off and drop the subject.
Clark glanced at her sharply, but, thank goodness, was quick enough to catch on and keep silent.
“Well, that’s nice.” Rachel’s smile faltered and the curiosity in her eyes clouded with disinterest. She peered around the room with a vague look on her face. “I guess I should mix a bit. It wouldn’t do as hostess to keep to myself.” She touched Clark’s arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your last name?”
“It’s Kent.”
Nothing showed on Rachel’s face. “As in Clark—”
Clark’s face tightened. “Yes.”
Amusement glittered in Rachel’s eyes. “Oh, Katherine. You’ve got a real, live superhero with you.” Arching one finely drawn brow, Rachel laughed and looked him over in obvious amusement. “I’d hang on to this one. All those special powers—especially in bed. The possibilities sound delicious—absolutely delicious.”
Katherine watched her walk away to mingle with the other guests, but her mockery lingered in the air around them. Right this second, she wanted to go after her cousin and give her a good smack.
Clark’s voice thickened with frustration. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to really hate my name.”
“Don’t let Rachel get to you. She can be insensitive at times. You have a beautiful name. I can’t think of anything better.”
The rugged lines of Clark’s face softened. “Thank you.”
Katherine gave him wry a smile and found herself mesmerized by the admiration and warmth in his gray eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. The evening’s far from over.”
Clark tossed his drink down his throat and grimaced. “I guess if I’m ever going to find your uncle, we need to start circulating.”
Katherine’s smile dimmed as she took his hand and urged him around a group of impeccably dresse
d men and women. “I suppose you’re right.”
Suddenly, Clark pulled her to a halt and whispered in her ear. “Does your uncle have a safe somewhere? Someplace where he’d keep important documents?”
“I think so.” Glancing up at Clark’s grim expression, she frowned and bit her lip for a second. “When I was really young, I remember David had talked about it. But I’m trying to think where...” Her face cleared. “Oh, yes. I remember. I thought it was so neat at the time. It’s in the walk-in closet in my uncle’s bedroom. There’s a hidden panel in the very back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not thinking about doing something crazy tonight? You promised you weren’t going to do anything. You said yourself—”
“I didn’t exactly say that—”
When Clark stopped speaking and glanced to her left, she turned. “Oh. Hi, Dad.”
“Katherine.” Her father kissed her raised cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at Clark. “I don’t think you’ve met my father, Alex. And this is—”
“Clark Kent, correct?” Alex pulled back his lips into a smile. “I hear you’re a reporter.”
“That’s right.” Clark shook her father’s proffered hand.
“What paper?”
“The Globe.”
“Interesting.” Alex raised a brow, mockery evident in his voice. “I read the paper religiously, and I don’t remember your name on any of the bylines.”
Clark’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I just started on their payroll last week.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I’m impressed.” But Alex didn’t appear impressed. “You must have an extensive background. I wish I did. Or at least my broker did. He hasn’t given me the best advice this last year on the market. Do you have any hot tips on stocks?”
Seeing her father’s eyes grow as cold and blue as the shore off of Boston on a clear, winter day, Katherine felt the muscles tense across the back of her neck. She stepped closer to Clark and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t have any leads right now,” Clark said. “I’m off of work.”
“I see.”
“Dad,” Katherine cut in. “I don’t think tonight’s the time to get into the stock market. I know I wouldn’t want to talk about work on my night off.”
“Of course.” Alex conceded.
“Katherine.” Clark took her half-filled glass. “It looks like you need another drink. I’ll be back in a minute.” He nodded coolly to Alex. “It was nice meeting you.”
An obvious lie from Clark if she went by his thin-lipped smile and frigid gray eyes, but she decided to let him go without an argument. She suspected Clark was liable to say something nasty to her father if he stayed any longer.
When Clark disappeared into the crowd, she turned to her father and frowned. “You scared him away.”
“It seems that way.”
“You don’t look disappointed.”
“Why should I? It’s not my problem he’s so sensitive. You’d think he’d be the opposite—being in his profession.” Alex’s gaze slipped to her throat. “Is that the necklace we gave you last Christmas?”
“Yes.”
Katherine ran her fingers across the pearl choker. Her father always tended to avoid a topic by changing the subject. Sometimes tactfully. Sometimes not. She suspected he’d learned it as a defense mechanism when her mother latched onto some bone of contention. But Katherine wasn’t her mother, and she wasn’t going to be sidetracked.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Don’t act dumb. I’m not stupid. Clark hadn’t said one word, and you were right there ready to pick a fight. You’d already judged him before he even opened his mouth. If I’d behaved that way, you would have been all over me.” Katherine shook her head. “I don’t understand. What do you have against Clark?”
Alex brushed at a spot on the sleeve of his tailored jacket. The suit looked like Armani, but Katherine wasn’t sure. She hadn’t paid attention to designers for years, or at least since she’d moved from home and her mother’s vigilant eye. Sharon never liked her daughter to appear seedy in public. Image meant everything. After all, it might affect a vote.
“Your mother’s concerned,” Alex admitted.
“Why?”
“She thinks Clark isn’t appropriate for you.”
“If it’s because of how she first met him—”
“She hadn’t mentioned that part. But I’m sure that’s not the reason...”
“Then what?” she asked in frustration.
“It’s not important.”
Katherine arched a brow and folded her arms.
He sighed. “You’re not going to let this drop, are you? Fine. She believes he’s somewhat unstable.”
“Unstable? What am I supposed to make of that?”
“When someone calls themselves Clark Kent and then claims they’re a reporter—it’s bound to raise a few eyebrows. After seeing it for myself, I have to agree with her on this. He sounds like he’s living in some type of fantasy. He even looks like the damn character.”
“Rachel’s been talking to Mother, hasn’t she?” Katherine asked in a low and angry voice. “I can’t believe it. Less than two seconds—and word’s gotten around about Clark. No doubt, all of it wrong. What else did Mother say? I’m almost afraid to find out.”
Alex laughed without humor. “Sometimes you can be just like Sharon. Stubborn to a fault. Well, if you must know—delusional was one of the words she used.”
“Why am I not surprised? She’s never liked my friends. You’d think by now she’d know I’m old enough to pick my own company.”
“Your mother still has a hard time seeing you as someone other than her little girl. Try to remember that. And as to this guy—this Clark—Sharon’s right. Your judgment’s way off here. Sharon thinks it’s—”
“Spare me. I’m too angry to talk about it.”
Her father’s voice deepened in warning. “I suggest you don’t talk to your mother until you calm down.”
“Oh, don’t worry. That’s the last thing I plan on doing right now.” Backing up, Katherine coolly returned, “I’d rather talk to Clark. At least with him, I know he appreciates me and not someone he expects me to be.”
Turning, she sidestepped a garishly jeweled, elderly woman and walked away.
Her father didn’t follow. Not that she expected him to. After all, he hated conflict.
Her family didn’t even know Clark, and they’d already judged him. It was so like them.
They’d always formulated opinions on people before taking the time to know them, which was probably why they’d never understood Katherine’s motives to help homeless teens. The adolescences who stepped through the Morning Dove’s doors were knocked down again and again by people or circumstances and never given the chance to dream or exhale. Unlike her family, Katherine knew it wasn’t too late to turn these kids around. They were still malleable enough to possess the means for growth and change.
If it hadn’t been for Miranda, Katherine’s life would have turned in a direction filled with triviality, and void of the wonder, hope, pain and frustration her life now entailed. But Katherine wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
After weaving through four rooms, being stopped on occasion by a well-wisher, Katherine had yet to find Clark among the crowd. Odd. With his height, he stood a good head over many. When she ventured into the other, unoccupied rooms of the ground floor, she still didn’t find him.
Clark had disappeared.
Chapter 12
Alarm lengthened Katherine’s step and quickened her pulse. She suspected—no—she knew Clark wasn’t getting her a drink. Oh, no. He’d slipped upstairs in search of her uncle’s hidden room. Pure insanity. Over a hundred people filled the house. One wrong move or sound by Clark and impending di
saster.
Determined to find Clark before anyone else, Katherine weaved through the room congested with guests toward the doorway to the hall and stairs. To her right, the crowd parted, and she saw her mother talking to a man. Katherine’s step faltered and then slowed. Jack Kincaid. A key contributor to the shelter—or should she say former contributor? To date, he still hadn’t returned her calls. Just then, Sharon turned and caught her gaze across the room, but the crowd merged and swallowed her mother and Kincaid from view.
Katherine glanced to the doorway and back to where she’d seen Kincaid. What to do? She hesitated. Groaning in frustration, Katherine, unable to lose this opportunity, pivoted from the doorway. Unlike her phone calls, Kincaid couldn’t dodge her here.
But by the time Katherine shifted through the crowd, she found her mother alone. “Where did he go?”
Sharon frowned. “Who?”
“Kincaid. I saw you talking to him.”
Scanning the room, Katherine caught his retreating back. If she didn’t hurry, she’d lose him.
“Katherine!” Her mother caught her elbow. “What’s going on? You’re acting oddly.”
Kincaid vanished behind a cluster of elegantly dressed women.
“Katherine!”
She shrugged off her mother’s hand. “I need to talk to Kincaid.”
“Not tonight.” Sharon’s voice hardened. “Leave the man alone. He’s here to enjoy himself, not talk business.”
Katherine opened her mouth to argue but remembered the conversation with her father only moments before. She’d said the same words, or ones very similar, about Clark, so she relented. “Did he mention why he stopped donating to the Morning Dove?”
A fine crease formed between Sharon’s brows. “Of course not. The shelter’s the last thing on my mind. I’m far more concerned about this character you’re with tonight. You haven’t once mentioned him, then all of a sudden he’s everywhere. Who is he?”
“He’s a neighbor. He moved into one of the townhouses a couple of weeks ago. Remember, I told you?”
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