Every Breath You Take Part 3

aI have a college degree,a she told him breezily, andinformatively, he noted.

To stop him from pressing her further, Kate held up her hand and laughingly put an end to the subject. aDo not say another word about Amsterdam, or youall spoil my entire image of the place before I get a chance to see it. Youave already replaced my blissful thoughts of red and yellow tulip fields with images of restaurants reeking of pot, and my visions of lovely ca.n.a.ls are now visions of sleazy alleys with prost.i.tutes for sale. Besides,a she added as someone knocked on the door, aour dinner is here.a Mitch.e.l.l heard the relief in her voice and realized shead been genuinely uneasy about a discussion of illicit s.e.x and drugs with him. That puzzled and surprised him, but then virtually everything she did either confused or intrigued him. In the ensuing minutes, he watched her usher in the waiters and supervise the process of transferring the elaborate meals onto a table on the terrace as if shead been presiding over the process in fine houses and hotels her entire life. Less than two hours ago, shead knelt beside an injured stray dog and looked at Mitch.e.l.l with tears of pleading in her eyes, and a few minutes after that, head found her sitting on a curb next to a busy driveway, serenely unconcerned with her comfort, or her clothes, or the reactions of the other hotel guests. A few moments later, when he told her help was on the way, shead lifted her face to his and smiled at him with melting grat.i.tude.

She genuinely liked him, and she wasnat trying to hide that . . . and yet, he had the feeling he made her nervous. She was vividly, almost exotically, lovely . . . but when head admired the way she looked in those flowing silk pants and a little white top held up by gossamer strings tied into bows at her shoulders, shead seemed so self-conscious that head remarked on her hair, instead. A few minutes ago, theyad been on the verge of a kiss . . . but when the music interrupted, she backed away and tried to pretend nothing had happened.

In view of all that, Mitch.e.l.l began to wonder if head been wrong about her feelings for the lawyer. Perhaps the reason shead stayed with him for years was that she was emotionally committed to hima"or at least determined not to stray. Mitch.e.l.l fervently hoped neither was true, because she was attracted to him, and he was very attracted to her.

In fact, he was.e.xtremely attracted to her, he admitted to himself as he watched the waiters depart.

Behind him from the terrace, she said lightly, aDinner is served.a Mitch.e.l.l turned and saw her standing in candlelight beside the table, the island breeze ruffling her fiery mantle of red hair around her shoulders.

Wildlyattracted.

As he neared the table, she reached up and brushed a wayward strand of hair off her soft cheek. He watched the unconsciously feminine gesture as if head never seen hundreds of other women do it.

aPlease sit down,a she said graciously when he started around the table to pull out her chair for her. aYouave already had to wait too long for this meal.a Kateas earlier nervousness had vanished. She was on familiar territory now, standing beside an elegant, candlelit table and hovering near a special guest whom she wanted to make feel extremely important that evening. It was a role she could play to perfection. Shead studied under a master, and only he could do it better.

But she was never again going to see her father play this role.

Blinking back a sudden sheen of moisture in her eyes, Kate reached for the open wine bottle on a small table beside her. aMay I pour you some wine?a she asked, smiling at his face through a blur of tears that blinded her to his sudden grin.

aThat depends on where youare planning to pour it, and how good your aim is.a Kateas emotions veered abruptly from anguish to laughter. aI have excellent aim,a she a.s.sured him, leaning toward his gla.s.s.

aAll earlier evidence to the contrary,a Mitch.e.l.l pointed out. To Mitch.e.l.las dismay, she retaliated by smiling straight into his eyes while she poured just the right amount of red wine into his gla.s.s.

aActually,a she informed him, aI hit exactly what I was aiming for that time, too.a Before Mitch.e.l.l could be sure whether she was serious, she turned away. He studied her closely as she slid into the chair across from his, her expression serenely blas. aAre you implying you intended to douse me with that b.l.o.o.d.y Mary?a he asked.

aYou know what they say about temperamental redheads,a Kate replied as she unfolded her napkin; then she leaned forward and looked at him as if a horrifying, but amusing, possibility had just occurred to her. aSurelyyou donat think I deliberatelydye my hair this impossible color?a Mitch.e.l.l was dumbfounded to think shead actually thrown a drink at him in a fit of childish, uncontrolled pique. He didnat want to believe he was wrong about her, and he didnat want to consider why it was becoming important to him that this one woman be all the things she seemed. With deceptive nonchalance, he said, aDid you really do it on purpose?a aDo you promise not to be angry?a He smiled good-naturedly. aNo.a A startled giggle nearly escaped Kate at the vast contrast between his agreeable expression and his negative reply. aThen, will you promise never to bring the subject up again if I tell you the truth?a Another lazy smile accompanied his answer. aNo.a Kate bit her lip to keep from laughing. aAt least youare honest and directa"in a misleading sort of way.a Needing to avert her gaze from his, she picked up a basket of crusty rolls from the center of the table and offered it to him.

aAreyou being honest and direct?a he inquired with amus.e.m.e.nt, taking a roll from the basket. Despite his affable att.i.tude, Kate had a sudden, inexplicable sensation of an undercurrent. He was playing cat and mouse with her, she knew, and he was obviously a world champion acat,a but she sensed he wasnat actually enjoying the game. Since her goal was to repay his wonderful kindnesses by making the rest of the evening as pleasant for him as she could, she put an end to the whole charade.

Meeting his gaze, she said with quiet sincerity, aI didnat do it on purpose. I was only pretending I did in order to get even with you for teasing me twice about the b.l.o.o.d.y Mary.a Mitch.e.l.l heard her words, but the softness in her eyes and the expression on her lovely face were interfering with the pathways to his brain, and he decided it didnat matter if shead done it on purpose. Then he realized she hadnat, and that mattered much more than he thought it should. What sort of family, he wondered, in what city, on whatplanet, had yielded up this jaunty, prim, unpredictable woman with a wayward sense of humor, a heart-stopping smile, and a fierce pa.s.sion for wounded mongrel dogs.

Mitch.e.l.l reached for his b.u.t.ter knife. aWhere in the h.e.l.l are you from?a aChicago,a she said with a startled smile at his tone.

He looked up so sharply and with such narrowed disbelief that Kate felt compelled to reaffirm and amplify her answer. aChicago,a she repeated. aI was born and raised there. What about you?a Chicago.Mitch.e.l.l managed to smooth his distaste for her answer from his expression, but his guard was up. aIave never lived anywhere long enough to be afroma there,a he replied, giving her the same vague answer that had always satisfied anyone who asked. The question was perfunctory anyway, he knew. People asked because it was a convenient conversational item among strangers. People never really cared what the answer was. Unfortunately, Kate Donovan was not one of those people.

aWhat places did you live in when you were growing upa"a she persevered, and teasingly added, abut not long enough to actually be afroma any of them?a aVarious places in Europe,a Mitch.e.l.l replied, intending to immediately change the subject.

aWhere do you live now?a she asked, before he could.

aWherever my work takes me. I have apartments in several cities in Europe and New York.a His work occasionally took him to Chicago too, but he didnat want to mention that to Kate, because he wanted to avoid the inevitable discussion about whom they might know in common. There was little chance she actually knew anyone within the Wyattsa lofty social circle, but the Wyatt name was known to any Chicagoan who read a newspaper. Since Mitch.e.l.las last name was also Wyatt, there was a chance Kate would ask him if he was related to those Wyatts, and the last thing he wanted to do was admit to that relationship, let alone discuss what it actually was.

Kate waited for him to offer a clue as to what cities those apartments were in, or what his aworka was. When he didnat, she a.s.sumed he wanted to skip those specific topics. That struck her as odd. In her experience, men loved to talk about their work and achievements. She didnat want to pry into information Mitch.e.l.l didnat want to offer, but she couldnat gracefully switch immediately to another topic, so she said instead, aNo roots?a aNone at all.a When she looked at him strangely, Mitch.e.l.l said, aFrom the expression on your face, I gather you find that a little odd?a aNot odd, just difficult to imagine.a On the a.s.sumption that if she offered personal information freely, he might be inclined to follow suit, Kate said. aI grew up in the same Irish neighborhood I was born in. My father owned a little restaurant there, and for many years we lived in an apartment above it. At night, people in the neighborhood gathered there to eat and socialize. During the day, I went to St. Michaelas grade school with kids from the same neighborhood. Later on, I went to Loyola University in the city. After I graduated, I went to work near the old neighborhood, although it had changed a lot by then.a With a feeling approaching amused disbelief, Mitch.e.l.l realized that he was wildly attracted to a nice, redheaded, Irish Catholic girl from a solid, middle-cla.s.s, American family. How totally atypical for him, and no wonder she seemed like such an enigma to him. aWhat sort of work did you go into after college?a aI went to work for the Department of Children and Family Services as a social worker.a Mitch.e.l.l bit back a bark of laughter. Actually, he was wildly attracted to a redheaded, middle-cla.s.s, Irish Catholic girl witha strong social conscience.

aWhy did you decide on social work instead of the restaurant business? I suppose you probably had enough of that business when you were growing up,a he added, answering his own question.

aIt wasnat exactly a restaurant. It was more of a cozy Irish pub that served a limited menu of tasty Irish dishes and sandwiches, and I loved everything about that placea"especially the nights when someone played the piano and people sang Irish songs. Karaoke,a she added with a smile, ahas been a time-honored form of entertainment in Irish pubs for hundreds of years, only we never called it that.a Mitch.e.l.l was familiar with the termkaraoke, and intimately familiar with several pubs in Ireland, so he knew exactly what she meant. aGo on,a he urged as he reached for his winegla.s.s. aYou loved the music . . . ?a He was an attentive listener, Kate realized. Still harboring the belief that he might become a little more forthcoming about his own life if she chatted freely about hers, she did exactly that. aI loved the music, but I couldnat hear the music very well from my bedroom, and I wasnat allowed downstairs after fivePM , so I used to sneak into the living room after my babysitter fell asleep, and listen to the music from there. By the time I was seven years old, I knew all the songs by hearta"sad songs, revolutionary songs, bawdy songs. I didnat understand all the words, but I could p.r.o.nounce them with the Irish brogue of a native. The truth is,a she confided after taking a bite of her salad, aIad watched a lot of old musicals on television, and I wanted to become a nightclub singer and wear beautiful gowns like the women in those movies. I used to pretend our kitchen table was a grand piano, and I practiced draping myself across it while I sang into a pretend microphonea"usually a broom handle.a Mitch.e.l.l chuckled at the image shead painted of herself. aDid you ever get to sing in front of an audience downstairs?a aOh, yes. I made my official singing debut there at seven.a aHow did it go?a The story was humorous, but it involved Kateas father, and she shifted her gaze to the garden, trying to decide if she could tell it without feeling sad. aLetas just say thata"it didnat quite go the way Iad imagined,a she said finally.

Mitch.e.l.l was finding it difficult to pay any attention to his meal. She had been so candid before that now her winsome, hesitant expression when she thought back on her singing debut at the pub intrigued him and made him determined to pry out the details. Since courtesy demanded that he at least give her a chance to eat some of her meal, he stifled his curiosity, temporarily postponing his question.

The chef at the Island Club was world-renowned, and the prawn and avocado salad Mitch.e.l.l had ordered for both of them was served with a wonderful parmesan caper dressing. The red snapper head ordered for himself was sauted to perfection and served with pine nuts and fresh asparagus, but the redhead sitting across from him was more to his liking, and he barely tasted what he ate. He waited until shead eaten some of her salad and her main course; then he reached for his wine and said half seriously, aI have no intention of letting you ignore my question about your singing debut at the pub.a After the silence between them, the sudden sound of his rich baritone voice had an electrifying effect on Kateas senses, and her head jerked up. Trying to cover her reaction, she regarded him with what she hoped was an expression of amused hauteur. aI refuse to tell you that story until youave toldme a story that makesyou look ridiculous.a Instead of agreeing or giving up, he leaned back in his chair, toying with the stem of his winegla.s.s, and eyed her in prolonged, thoughtful silence.

Kate tried to return his gaze unflinchingly, and ended up laughing and surrendering. aI give upa"whaton earth are you thinking?a aIam trying to decide whether to resort to bribery or coercion.a aGo for bribery,a Kate advised him outrageously, because the stake was merely a story and she was positive he was going to offer a silly enticement.

aIn that case, I will bring a collar and leash with me tomorrowa"a She rolled her eyes in mock horror. aEither youare a very sick man, or else you have absolutely no talent for accessorizing. Stick with necktiesa"a aa"And Iall help you get your Max to a vet over on St. Maarten,a he continued, ignoring her gibe.

Understanding dawned and Kateas laughter faded. She looked at him, filled with grat.i.tude and the strangest feeling that they were destined to become the best of friendsa"that it was somehow preordained. He returned her gaze, his blue eyes smiling warmly into hers . . . no, not warmly, Kate realized. Intimately! Hastily, she tried to divert him with humor. aThatas a clever bribe. What were you going to say to coerce me?a He quirked a thoughtful brow, a smile tugging at his lips. a aYou owe mea?a he suggested.

Kate felt like covering her face and ears to block out the sight and sound of him. Even relaxing in his chair, he exuded potent s.e.xual vitality. When he laughed, he looked s.e.xy. When he smiled, he looked dangerously inviting. And when he was silent and thoughtful, as head been just a moment before, he looked intriguing . . . and wonderful. He was so physically attractive, so witty and urbane, and so infuriatinglylikable that she kept wanting to trust him and befriend him, even though he was probably the last man in the Caribbean who could be trusted or befriended in a hotel room, especially by someone like her. He was like a powerful, two-hundred-pound magnet, and she felt like a little paper clip, struggling against his pull but being tugged inexorably, inch-by-inch, across the table to him.

It was actually easier on her nervous system to distract and amuse him than it was to spend three silent seconds trying to resist him, she realized, and so she gave in and decided to tell the story.

He knew the instant she made the decision. aWhat did it?a he inquired with amused satisfaction. aThe bribery or the coercion?a aIam completely impervious to bribery,a Kate replied smugly, and was about to add that she was also impervious to coercion, but before she could do that, he said, aGood. Iall pick you up tomorrow morning at ten. Now, letas have the story of your singing debut at the pub.a With a sigh, Kate began the tale. aIt was Saint Patrickas Day, so by sevenPM the place was packed and the singing and drinking were in high gear. I knew my father was on an errand, because head come upstairs earlier to get his wallet, so I snuck downstairs even though the rule was that if my father wasnat on the premises, I was not allowed down there atany hour of the day. Our bartender knew the rule, too, but the place was so crowded, and I was so little, that n.o.body noticed me. At first, I just hovered on the bottom step, singing quietly to the music; but I couldnat see anything, so I moved a little farther into the room . . . and a little farther . . . and a little farther, until I ended up standing near the end of the bar. The piano was behind me and to my left, and on my right there was a middle-aged couple sitting at the bar. I didnat realize theyad been watching me doing my little sing-along, until the man leaned over and smiled and asked me what my favorite song was. I told him my favorite song was aDanny Boy,a because my daddyas name was Daniela"a Kate reached for her winegla.s.s to conceal her sharp, emotional reaction to the mention of the song shead sung for her father for the last time, standing at his graveside with tears streaming down her face and mourners weeping into handkerchiefs.

aIam not giving you much chance to eat,a Mitch.e.l.l apologized.

Kate ate a scallop and some rice to give herself time to compose herself, but Mitch.e.l.l barely touched his food. For a tall, muscular man who should have been starving by now, he wasnat eating much, she realized.

aAny time youare ready to go ona"a he prompted after a couple of minutes.

His grin was so uplifting that Kate smiled back at him and continued her story without the choking grief shead felt moments before. aThe man at the bar got up and apparently gave whoever was playing the piano some money, because the very next song was aDanny Boy.a As soon as it started, he whisked me off the floor onto his chair and shouted to everyone to quiet down becauseI wanted to sing aDanny Boy.a a Kate stopped again, but this time it was because she was trying not to giggle at the memory. aSo there it was: my big moment. I was so nervous that I had to clasp my hands behind my back to keep my arms from shaking out of their sockets, and when I tried to sing, my voice came out a squeaky whisper.a aAnd that was the end of it?a She laughed and shook her head. aUnfortunately, no.a Eager to know what happened, Mitch.e.l.l tried to guess. aYou finally managed to sing louder and you were bad at it?a His smile faded as he realized how cruel a room full of drunks might have been to a child in those circ.u.mstances, but Kate shook her head no, and said with mock affront, aI likemy ending to the story better than yours.a aThen whatas your ending?a aActually, once I finally found my voice, I was okay. Good enough, anyway, that everyone got quiet while I sang, and they stayed quiet for a few moments after I finished, and then the clapping started.a aA lot of clapping?a aLotsof clapping. I naturally took that to be encouragement, so I sang another song for thema"something more uplifting that I felt would also demonstrate my mastery of the Irish brogue. While I sang that one, someone gave me a green leprechaunas hat and a fake shillelagh. And that,a she finished as she started to laugh helplessly, ais when my father walked in. Oh, my G.o.d . . .a aHe was upset,a Mitch.e.l.l speculated, thinking her father shouldnat have been all that upset, since she was obviously giving quite an excellent performance.

aHe was a little upset,a she confirmed, laughing harder. aYou see, by the time he arrived, I was no longer standing on a chair, I was standing on the bara"so everyone could see me. I was wearing my green hat, strutting with my fake shillelagh, and singing a rousing rendition of aCome All Ye Tramps and Hawkersa at the top of my lungs. In case you havenat guessed, a few of the lyrics are a little bawdy, and I was right in the middle of that part when my fatheras face appeared in front of mine.a aWhat happened?a aMy voice dried up in mid-word.a aWhat did your father do?a aHe whisked me off the bar, and the next day he asked my uncle to use his influence to get me into St. Michaelas immediately so the nuns there could . . . um . . . have a hand in my upbringing. Until then Iad been going to the public school because it was much closer, and taking catechism cla.s.ses at St. Mikeas on Sat.u.r.days.a Lifting his winegla.s.s to his lips, Mitch.e.l.l said, aAnd that ended your singing career?a aPretty much. From then on, my singing was limited to the church choir.a At the wordchoir, Mitch.e.l.l choked on his wine. aThank G.o.d the nuns didnat lure you into their convent and turn you into one of them,a he said aloud, without actually meaning to express the thought.

She chuckled. aLureme into their convent? They wouldnat havelet me in if I begged them to! There wasnat a rule that I didnat try to bend or twist, and I always, always got caught, just like I got caught singing on the bar by my father. I spent the next years staying after school for one offense or another, and I practically wore out the schoolas chalkboards writing things like aI will obey the school rulesa and aI will not be disrespectfula one hundred times each. The nuns would have despaired of me completely if I hadnat sounded so aangelica when I sang in the choir.a Mitch.e.l.l was still struggling to a.s.sociate the image of an angelic choir girl with the alluring redhead sitting across from him when she added lightly, aActually, it was probably my uncleas influence and not my singing ability that kept me from being expelled from the fourth grade.a aYour uncle contributed a lot of money to the church?a aNo, he contributed a lot of his time. My uncle was the parish priest.a Mitch.e.l.l stared at her in comic horror.

Tipping her head to the side, Kate studied his expression. aYou look dismayed about that.a aIam less dismayed than Iad be if you told me youare a nun.a aWhy would you be dismayed if I were a nun?a The answer should have been obvious. Since it wasnat, Mitch.e.l.l decided it needed to be. He let his gaze drift purposefully to her inviting full lips, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then back up to her eyes. aWhy do you suppose, Kate?a His meaning was inescapable, and Kate felt a sensual jolt that was centralized in the pit of her stomach, then streaked like hot lightning down her legs to the tips of her toes. Her bodyas reaction was so strong and so unexpected that she choked back a nervous laugh and stood up. Trying to look composed and amused, she said sternly, aAre you always so blunt?a aI want to be sure weare on the same page.a aIam not sure weare even in the samelibrary, a Kate said, nervously raking her hair back off her forehead. His gaze shifted from her face to her hand and then drifted admiringly over her hair in a way that was so flattering and so seductive that her hand stilled and she felt a flush heat her cheeks.

He noticed that, too, and smiled. aI think we are.a Trying to dodge the issue entirely, Kate gave him a look of tolerant amus.e.m.e.nt. aYouare certainly sure of yourself.a aNot necessarily,a he replied imperturbably. aI may simply have deluded myself into thinking youare almost as attracted to me as I am to you. If so, Iam guilty of wishful thinking, not overconfidence.a As if he hadnat already wreaked enough havoc on her, he lifted his brows and said, aThose are the possibilities. Take your choice.a Youare on the wrong page . . . weare not even in the same library . . . youare deluding yourself.Thatas all she needed to say, Kate realized, but with his piercing blue eyes and his knowing smile leveled on her, she wasnat certain she could be convincing, not when she wasnat completely sure herself anymore. Trying to wriggle out of a perilous position, she ignored his instruction to make a choice and laughingly said, aI hate multiple-choice questions. Theyare so . . . limiting.a Before he could say another word or lure her into another trapa"or onto his lapa"Kate said hastily, aI want to check on Max and get some more ice for us. Please go on with your meal.a With that, she turned and fled into the suite.

Instead of stopping at the ice bucket, Kate walked straight into the bathroom, flipped on the lights, and closed the door. Bracing her palms on the vanityas intricate tiles, she let her head fall forward and drew a long, steadying breath, trying to recover her equilibrium. But what she thought about was how it would feel to be kissed by Mitch.e.l.l and held in his arms.

Frustrated with the direction of her thoughts, Kate lifted her head and scowled at herself in the mirror. How could she even contemplate a brief, meaningless s.e.xual liaison with a perfect stranger tonight when shead never done anything like that before? The answer was obvious: The stranger waiting for her on the terrace was like a fantasy . . . he was witty, charming, urbane, thoughtful, kind, anda"oh, yesa"breathtakingly handsome and too s.e.xy. Even the setting was idyllica"they were on a tropical island, dining in the moonlight, surrounded with the heady fragrance of frangipani blossoms and the stirring beat of steel drums playing calypso music on the beach. The timing was flawless, too, Kate realized, because she was about to end her long relationship with Evan.

All those things were nudging her straight into Mitch.e.l.l Wyattas arms, tempting her to make what would probably be a bad decision shead regret afterward. Shead never had a casual, one-night fling, not even in college with boys she knew. If she had one now, if she didnat get a tight rein on herself, her pride and self-respect would be in tatters tomorrow.

Straightening, Kate reconsidered. She was a grown woman, and she might not feel that way tomorrow. She did know that if she decidednot to go to bed with him, shead probably end up wondering for months what it would have been like.

Helplessly, Kate decided not to decide. She reached for the light switch on the wall beside the telephone. The red message light flashed imperatively, insistently, and whether from guilt or caution, she suddenly felt as if she needed to find out what Evan had called to tell her. She lifted the receiver and pressed the Message b.u.t.ton on the phone.

aYou have one unheard voice mail message,athe recording said, and a moment later, she heard Evanas familiar, cultured voice. aKate, itas me. Youare probably out to dinner.a He sounded frustrated and hara.s.sed, so Kate knew what was coming next before she heard him say, aIam so sorry, but Iam not going to make it down there tomorrow. Iam doing my best to wrap this case up, but I know you know that. Thereas no way this case can drag on beyond tomorrow, so Iall be there the day after. Count on it.a Kate had been acounting on ita for three days already.

She hung up the phone.

Chapter Nine.

IN THE LIVINGroom, she paused to check on the sleeping dog. Bending down, she touched Maxas nose. It felt moist and cooler than earlier, and his breathing was even. Petting his head, she said softly, aHow are you feeling, Max?a To her delighted surprise, he opened his eyes a little and gave his tail a feeble, answering wag.

aYouare going to be just fine,a she whispered, scratching his ears. aIf you happen to get your strength back in the next few minutes, and if youare a good watchdog, feel free to come outside on the terrace. I need some watching tonight, because Iam tempted to do something really stupid. Or maybe not so stupid.a She felt a strange p.r.i.c.kling sensation on the back of her neck and looked over her shoulder. Mitch.e.l.l was watching her.

aHow is he?a he asked.

Kateas pulse edged up a notch. aHeas better,a she said, standing up. aIall be right there as soon as I wash this flea powder off.a In the bathroom, Kate quickly washed her hands. As she pa.s.sed through the living room, she saw the liquor cabinet, remembered the ice bucket shead used as an excuse to get away for a couple of minutes, and she picked it up. For good measure, she swept up a bottle of brandy, too.

aI come bearing gifts,a she joked, putting the ice bucket and brandy on the small table with the wine. aWould you like more wine?a aI poured some for both of us while I was waiting for you.a Kate glanced at his plate and realized he hadnat touched his food since she left and had let it grow cold rather than eat without her. On top of everything else, the man had impeccable manners. Trying to atone for being gone so long, she picked up her fork so that he would pick up his, and she let him choose the topics and conversational pace. To her reliefa"and just a tiny bit of disappointmenta"he kept everything impersonal after that, chatting easily with her about the hotel and the climate, and telling her an amusing story about two couples who rented a sailboat for three hours in St. Maarten and were lost for three days.

At the end of ten minutes, the only significant thing Kate had learned about him was that he excelled at the art of entertaining small talk.

The musicians had either finished playing for the night or taken a break, but an occasional burst of cheerful laughter from the beach meant hotel guests were still enjoying themselves. Kate gazed into the gardens on her right, listening to the surf tumbling rhythmically onto the sh.o.r.e, while she contemplated ways to get him to talk about himself without appearing to pry. She was more than just curious about him; she felt a compulsive need to know and understand him. Despite his veneer of relaxed charm and indulgent affability, Kate had the growing feeling that Mitch.e.l.l Wyatt was a very complex man. There was something about his unwillingness to talk about himself that struck her as guarded and detached. He obviously had no qualms about s.e.xual intimacy, but she was beginning to wonder if he was accessible on an emotional level to anyonea"specifically, her. With an inner sigh, she chided herself for thinkinga"and feelinga"like an infatuated, overeager twelve-year-old who couldnat wait to find out everything she could about the object of her infatuation.

Mitch.e.l.l picked up his winegla.s.s and leaned back in his chair, content for the moment with a view of her pretty profile and a tantalizing glimpse of that romantic mouth of hers. A smile tugged at his lips as he imagined her as a seven-year-old with a riotous mop of long, curly red hair, draping herself across a kitchen table, pretending a broom handle was a microphone.

He tried to imagine her in a Catholic school uniforma"probably a white blouse and plaid jumper with white socks and brown shoes, he decided. When he imagined her leaning up on her toes to write aI will not be disrespectfula one hundred times on the chalkboard, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amus.e.m.e.nt. The nuns thought she sounded like an angel when she sang in the choir, he remembered, and a new image of her instantly presented itselfa"that of a little girl in a long choir robe with her huge green eyes lifted heavenward as she held a songbook in her hands.

Mitch.e.l.l was not a complete stranger to Catholic church choirs. In Italy, head lived with the Callioroso family until he was five and left to attend his first boarding school. Shortly before he was to leave, Sergio Callioroso and his wife realized Mitch.e.l.l might never have been baptized, and since they were devout Catholics, they chose that religion for him. Mitch.e.l.l actually remembered the July day he was baptized, because the little village church had been sweltering, and Rosalie Callioroso had starched and ironed his white shirt until it was as stiff as plasterboard. To add to his discomfort, the old priest had chosen the sacrament of baptism as the subject for an endless sermon, and as he droned on and on, all Mitch.e.l.l could think about was how good it was going to feel to have a little cool water poured over his head, the way Rosalie explained it would happen. But when the time came, the water wasnat cool, it was lukewarm. So was the effect of the ceremony on him.

Being baptized as a Catholic didnat make him feel holy or pious; it didnat even instill the slightest partiality for Catholicism in him. At all of the boarding schools he attended afterward, church attendance was mandatory, so as soon as he ascertained which religious services were the shortest at that particular school, Mitch.e.l.l immediately decided to aconverta himself to that religion. When he was fourteen and the only available rabbi became too ill to conduct services for the few Jewish boys at Mitch.e.l.las school, he promptly announced his devout desire to convert to Judaism, and thus avoided attending any religious services whatsoever for nearly half a year.

Somehow, Kate had flourished despite the stifling parochial atmosphere she was raised in. He took another swallow of his wine and marveled at how natural and unaffected she was despite having a face and figure that most women would envy. Mitch.e.l.l had enjoyed the company of many glamorous, clever women, and head known a number of plainer women who were delightfully funny and intelligent and he enjoyed their company, too. But Kate Donovan was the first woman head ever known who possessed an abundance of all their best traits, along with an amazingly soft heart and a trace of amusing primness. The package was d.a.m.ned near irresistiblea"so long as she didnat carry that parochial-school primness too far tonight.

She hadnat mentioned her mother or the existence of siblings, and Mitch.e.l.l wondered about both those things, but he didnat intend to ask her. He knew if he questioned her further about her family, shead expect to question him about his. And although he was prepared to indulge her with almost anything in order to get her into that king-size bed, he was not willing to gratify anyoneas curiosity about his childhood or his family.

She was staring absently at the border of trees and shrubs at the edge of the gardena"probably thinking up a list of questions for him, Mitch.e.l.l presumed wrylya"when she stiffened suddenly and leaned forward. aDid you see that?a aSee what?a Mitch.e.l.l asked, already half out of his chair.

aSomething moved in the trees, and I saw something shinya"a reflection in the moonlight, just for a second.a Shaking his head at the outlandish reaction of a born-and-bred city girl to the presence of a harmless nocturnal animal, Mitch.e.l.l decided to stand up instead of sitting back down. aA cat or dog,a he a.s.sured her, walking around to her side of the table. aTheir eyes gleam when light touches them at night.a aThen this cat or dog was close to six feet tall.a aBecause itas in a tree,a Mitch.e.l.l reasoned. When she continued to stare dubiously at the trees behind him, he added, aDonat expect me to start searching the woods. Iave already exceeded my annual quota of heroic acts tonight.a Kate decided he was right about the animal being in a tree, and she fell into his joking mood. aWhereas your sense of chivalry?a she chided.

His deep voice acquired a deliberately meaningful note. aMy chivalry expires when dessert is finished.a He was standing so close that the legs of his tan trousers were touching her knees, and she had to tip her head way back to talk to him, but she did her best to appear amused and blas despite her physical disadvantage. aWe didnat have dessert,a she pointed out.

aLetas have it now,a he said with quiet implacability, and held out his hand.

Kateas heart slammed into her ribs. In slow motion, her hand reached toward his, her fingers sliding into his warm handclasp. He held out his other hand, and when she took it she felt herself drawn upward. His right arm slid around her back, forcing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s into contact with a male chest like a wall of rock, and as he stepped farther away from the table, his left hand clasped her right, tucking it against his chest. Expecting a kiss, Kate started to tip her head back, but he stepped sideways and turned her slightly to the left. An instant before she lost her balance and tripped on his feet, Kate realized the band at the beach was playing aThe Girl from Ipanemaa and he wasnat trying to kiss her, he was trying to dance with her. The operative word wastrying, she realized, stifling a paroxysm of embarra.s.sed giggles, because she had to take two quick, awkward steps sideways in order to stay off his feet and two more forward steps to catch up with the rhythm.

aHowas it going?a he joked.

Moments before, shead been afraid to touch him for fear shead go up in flames. Now she leaned her forehead against the same rock-solid male chest that had made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tingle and she laughed helplessly. aYou might have mentioned you intended to dance with me, not try to ravish me.a aBut I do intend to ravish you,a he warned quietly, his lips so close to the top of her head that his breath stirred her hair.

Kateas laughter fled and her senses flared to life. With the sensuous samba melody pulsing in the night and his long legs shifting against hers, it was a full minute before Kate realized that he danced the way he did everything elsea"with effortless ease and competence. No doubt he would be just as expert in bed, she thoughta"just as demanding and tender and irresistibly male as he was out of bed.

Her traitorous body turned warm and pliant, and Kate struggled against an overwhelming temptation to yield to the subtle pressure of his hand on her spine and move closer to him. What aboutafter she went to bed with him, she asked herself sternly. He was so casual about s.e.x that he undoubtedly forgot a woman as quickly and effortlessly as he seduced her. If so, then head find it doubly easy to forget about her. On the other hand, she was going to have a terribly difficult time forgetting him now, even if she didnat go to bed with him. If she did go to bed with him, she might not be able to forget him for months or even years.

Trying to focus on that dampening thought, Kate stared straight ahead, but that gave her a close-up view of his tanned throat and the vee of his open white shirt, where tiny dark hairs peeked out invitingly just above a b.u.t.ton. Hastily, she shifted her glance to the right and found herself gazing at long, masculine fingers lightly entwined with hers. He had beautiful hands with short, well-manicured nails. Strong, knowledgeable hands that would unerringly seek out and explore her bodyas most intimate places if she leta"

Kate surrendered to defeat. She was going to let him. Regardless of the consequences, she had to find out for herself what was waiting for her in his arms. She had to know. She had to understand why he could evoke this combustible combination of heady desire and warm friendship in her within a few hours of meeting him.

Laying her cheek against his chest, Kate closed her eyes and matched his movements as effortlessly as if theyad been dancing together forever.

Mitch.e.l.l tipped his chin slightly, smiling at the sensation of her cheek resting against his chest and her body relaxing fully against his in silent antic.i.p.ation of what was soon to come. Tilting his left wrist slightly, he looked at his watch and saw that it was 11:25. Within the next five minutes, the hotelas efficient room service staff should arrive to clear away the remains of their meala"a.s.suming they arrived at the time Kate had specified earlier. She may have forgotten about their impending arrival, but Mitch.e.l.l hadnat, and he didnat want another aborted kiss like the last one. Besides, he was in no great hurry now. As head learned from experience, antic.i.p.ation of any intimate acta"including a first kiss between soon-to-be loversa"was often as enjoyable as the act itself. Lately, the antic.i.p.ation was frequentlymore enjoyable.

On the beach, the musicians finished playing and paused for a round of applause from their small audience. In his arms, Kate stopped moving and looked up at him with moonlight and surrender in her green eyes.

She expected to be kissed, Mitch.e.l.l realized, and in an abrupt reversal of his last decision, he decided the time was right for a light, short kissa"a brief little kiss to seal what was to come.

As soon as he bent his head, Kate braced herself for some sort of demanding sensual onslaught, but his kiss was surprisingly lighta"merely a friendly, tentative stroke of his mouth on hersa"his smiling mouth, Kate realized, and she smiled a little, too, as she curved her hands over his shoulders and returned the aget-acquainteda kiss.

And then the kiss started to change as he began smoothing his lips back and forth over hers, subtly increasing the pressure of each sliding stroke until her lips parted beneath his. When they did, his fingers shoved deep into the hair at her nape, holding her mouth locked tightly to his, and his free arm angled across her hips, clamping her against his rigid length.

Kate was so lost in the hot demanding kiss that the knocking sound she heard seemed to be coming from inside of her, until Mitch.e.l.l finally pulled his mouth from hers and scowled at something over her shoulder. aRoom service,a he said in a strained voice. He dropped his arms. aYou told room service to come back at eleven-thirty to clear away the remains of dinner.a Kate finally registered what he was telling her and quickly turned away from him, heading for the door to let the waiters in.

Mitch.e.l.l watched her walk away and swore under his breath, trying to get his rampaging l.u.s.t under control. When the physical evidence of it wouldnat diminish even slightly, he turned on his heel and left the terrace, forced to retreat into the darkness of the garden to conceal a rigid arousal that shouldnat have resulted from just one relatively chaste kiss. Or six of them.

Chapter Ten.

KATE OPENED THEdoor to two smiling waiters, one of them in his late twenties, the other in his late forties. aHow was your dinner, miss?a the younger waiter asked as he wheeled in a cart.

aWonderful.a She couldnat remember what shead eaten for dinner and she sounded a little breathless.

aThe wine was satisfactory?a the older waiter inquired, stepping carefully around the sleeping dog.

aYes,a Kate said. aVery,a she added with a quick smile, trying to recover her equilibrium. She checked to be sure Max was all right; then she smoothed her hair down and stepped back outside onto the terrace. Mitch.e.l.l was standing in the garden with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring out across the moonlit water as if lost in thought.

The music had begun again, and as Kate moved around the table, the younger waiter paused in his struggle to force the cork back into the unfinished bottle of red wine. aThereas a private party down there,a he said. aI hope the music has not disturbed you and your husband.a aWea"Iave enjoyed it very much,a Kate said, but the wordhusband made her falter momentarily, not because Mitch.e.l.l wasnat her husband, but because she realized how awkward this situation would feel tomorrow night, or the night after, if these same waiters served Evan and her a meal. It hit her then that the same possibility might have occurred to Mitch.e.l.l and that was why head moved off into the darkness at the far end of the garden.

Kate forced her worries about the future aside and stepped off the terrace onto the gra.s.s. Soon enough, she would have to cope with the ramifications of her decision to be with Mitch.e.l.l tonight, but for now, that decision was made. She couldnat turn back. She didnat want to turn back. Not after their kiss. There had never been a kiss like thata"not for hera"and she had the thrilling feeling that Mitch.e.l.l had been almost as surprised and carried away by it as shead been.

He turned toward her, and Kate searched his features for some sign that the kiss had affected him as much as she thought it had. She wanted to believe it had been no ordinary kiss to him. She needed to believe it, and yet in the pale moonlight, he almost seemed to be frowning at her. However, he was too far away for her to gauge his expression accurately, so Kate smiled tentatively at him and tried to decide what to say to him when she was close enough. He didnat smile back at her, and she wondered why.

Mitch.e.l.l wasnat smiling because he was studying the woman who had just managed to drive him to the brink of uncontrollable, possessive l.u.s.t with one kiss, and he wasnat entirely happy with what he saw. With her hands clasped behind her back and the breeze teasing her long hair and ruffling the hem of her long pants, she reminded him of an Irish choir girl, and the beguiling outfit she was wearinga"which head mentally stripped off her during dinnera"now struck him as being virginal white.

Kate Donovan was not at all in his normal style, and neither was his profound physical reaction to a single kiss. Earlier, when she dumped that b.l.o.o.d.y Mary on him, his desire to see her again had been an ordinary response to a captivating face framed by a beguiling ma.s.s of red hair. Tonight, however, his attraction to her had intensified so fiercely with everything she did and said that a simple kissa"which head intended to be nothing more than an expression of languid desire soon to be gratifieda"became something much different: a kiss of wild urgency.

He watched her as she stopped to pluck a white flower from a bush covered with white blooms. She held the bloom to her nose, inhaling its fragrance as she looked out across the water. Suddenly, Mitch.e.l.l was catapulted ten years back in time to a party head attended at the home of a Greek businessman. Bored with the party, Mitch.e.l.l had taken his drink outside, where he eventually wandered down a path that ended at the entrance to a small, torchlit garden at the edge of the cliff. In the center of the garden stood a life-size statue of a young woman with flowing hair holding a flower in her hand. Based on the garments she was wearing, the statue was fairly recent, but something about her had captivated him. aDo you mind if I join you?a head asked the statue as he studied her features.

That question had been as idiotic, Mitch.e.l.l realized, as the fact that he was now comparing a redheaded Chicago girl to a Greek statue carved in alabaster. His response to Kate Donovan was not only fanciful, it was unpredictable, and although Mitch.e.l.l had no idea why she affected him that waya"or exactly where all this was headinga"he was suddenly a little wary of the general direction it had taken him. He resolved to chart the remainder of the course more carefully and on his terms.

Kate stopped in front of him and glanced over his shoulder toward the beach, where the musicians were starting to play another samba. aWe have music again,a she remarked lightly, trying not to feel uneasy about the fact that he was looking at her with a rather cool smile and keeping his hands in his pockets. aThe waiter told me thereas a private party down there,a she added.