A Bridge to Love (5 page)

Kate
turned her head on the bed to look at him. “Well, you wouldn't let me move
anything else.”

The
slight smile on his lips vanished and his flat Texas twang sounded sharp and
hard. “I'm not a nice man, Kate. You don't want to mess with me.”

She
looked away from his steady gaze and found herself admiring the curve of his
biceps. She ran her hand up his arm, enjoying the feel of skin over muscle.

“You're
very... touchable,” she said, exploring back down his arm to his wrist.

She
felt the bed shaking and realized that he was laughing silently. “I've been
called a lot of things, but this is a first for
touchable
. Don't spread it around.”

Kate
laughed, too. It struck her that she was lying beside a virtual stranger, her
dress bunched around her waist, and she was enjoying it. One-night stands were
quite liberating. Of course, she gave Randall Johnson credit for being an
above-average partner.

His
stomach growled loudly. Kate giggled and then gave a little gasp of pleasure as
Randall rolled onto his back, caressing her breasts as he pulled his arm away.

“Lady,
I need food if you want to continue this depravity. I make a mean burrito.”

Kate
sighed with regret. She wanted to stay lost in this sexual haze but reality was
seeping into her reluctant brain; she knew that she had to leave. There must be
some ancient taboo about accepting food from a man you had no intention of ever
seeing again.

Randall
picked up his shirt from the floor and pulled it on. He started to button it
when Kate said, “No, wait.”

He
raised an eyebrow in question. “I just want to do one thing,” she explained as
she got up and pulled her dress up and down enough to cover the bare minimum.
She walked over to him and pushed open his shirt. “You wouldn't let me do this
earlier,” she said as she ran her hands over the springy hair on his chest and
abdomen. As she brushed over his nipples, he groaned.

“We'll
never make it to the kitchen if you keep that up.”

Kate
ran her hands once more down his ribs and stepped back, feeling bereft.

Randall
opened his eyes. “Forget the kitchen,” he said with a wicked grin.

Kate
laughed but turned around and offered him her open zipper. He fastened her up
so quickly and competently that she couldn't help contemplating how much
practice he must have had. She adjusted her skirt and then braced herself as
she said, “I'd love to stay for dinner but I have to coach a soccer game
tomorrow morning. I need to get some sleep.”

It
amazed Kate how quickly Randall Johnson could go from sexy to scary. When he
focused those eyes on you, you knew you should run. Randall buttoned his shirt
without looking away from her. She fidgeted uncomfortably but stood her ground.

“You're
very good at that, aren't you?”

He
raised his eyebrows again. “At what?”

“Intimidating
someone without saying a word.”

He
tucked his shirt in, still watching her. “Silence is a powerful weapon.”

He
was dressing with an almost insolent deliberation so Kate turned and stalked
out of the room. She gathered up her purse and jacket and headed for the hall.
She heard Randall go out onto the patio to retrieve the jacket he had pushed
off her shoulders earlier.

She
was balancing against the hall table, pulling on her second shoe when he
appeared beside her with a jingle of car keys. He held her jacket for her
again, and Kate was astounded by the fact that the slightest touch of this
man's hand made her entire body vibrate.

Randall
still hadn't said a word as he ushered her to a sleek Jaguar, and Kate felt her
temper rising. Once he had settled into the driver's seat, she said, “You know,
it's customary to at least attempt to make polite conversation.”

“Okay.
You're great in bed.”

Kate
gasped, and then started to laugh. “If that's how you make polite conversation,
you must move in unusual social circles.”

The
corner of Randall's mouth curved slightly.

Kate
decided to drop it as he put the car in motion. She took another quick look sideways
and found his profile so distant and unapproachable that she too fixed her gaze
on the road. He seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely.

Randall
was ticked off. He had been looking for entertainment tonight, but he had
gotten more than he bargained for. He had had no expectation of making love to
Kate. He had been toying with her, seeing how far she would let him go before
he got his face slapped, either literally or verbally. He hadn't anticipated
her melting into him or her sexy underwear or his own explosive reaction to all
of the above. Hell, he was getting aroused again just thinking about it.

In many ways
, he mused,
it could be considered the perfect date: great sex and good-bye. No
dinner, no small talk, no strings.
But instead of being grateful, he felt
mad as hell. He was choking on the undeniable fact that Kate Chilton had set
out to seduce him and had succeeded.

During
the silent ride, Kate was trying to formulate a farewell that would be cool,
sophisticated and final. Her plan had succeeded. She felt her lips curl in a
satisfied smile. It was worth it, and now she had a good reason never to attend
a Princeton alumni party again.

Randall
turned into her driveway and stopped the car. Leaning back against his door, he
sat watching her in silence. The shadows emphasized the dark glint of his eyes
and threw his cheekbones into sharp relief. Before Kate could say anything, he
was out of the car and opening her door. She let him help her up the steps,
then turned to say good-bye.

“Randall,
I want to thank you...”

“All
the ladies do,” he said, taking hold of her chin.

“But...”

“Shhhh,”
he said as he bent down to lightly brush her lips with his. Then he deepened
the kiss. Kate kissed him right back.

He
lifted his head to say, “I'll call you.”

And
then he was heading back down the front steps.

Panic
drove Kate to rudeness. “No, don't,” she said loudly. “This won't happen again
–”

“I
think it will, darlin'.” He kept walking as he drawled over his shoulder, “I'm
not a one-night stand.”

Five

“It's seven a.m. on a beautiful
September morning. The current temperature is fifty-two degrees, going up
to...” Kate punched off the radio alarm. The scrapes on the backs of her legs
hurt where the sheet brushed them. “Rock burns instead of rug burns. What was I
thinking?” she groaned.

Her
stomach was queasy from too much wine, and it got worse as images from the
night before pounded through her brain. She had felt satisfaction in carrying
out her plan, not to mention a certain physical afterglow, when she had crawled
into bed last night. Now, in the cold light of morning, she winced at the
memory of her outrageous behavior. Her only comfort was that nobody knew about
it except Randall Johnson. And she had no intention of ever looking him in the
eye again.

“That's
one more thing to chalk up to your account, David,” Kate muttered to the
ceiling. “I let you drag me down to your level. But it won't happen again.”

With
that resolution, she threw off the covers. She dressed, hauled two sleepy young
men out of dreamland and got them all to their soccer game on time. For two
blessed hours, she concentrated on penalty kicks, player rotations and
post-game Dunkin' Donuts. When they got home, Kate herded them into the den for
a serious family conference.

Clay
and Patrick glanced at each other silently, and then sat down in the two
armchairs across from the couch. Kate dropped onto the sofa and gave them a
straight look.

“You
know that your dad was a partner in C/R/G.”

The
two boys nodded.

“Well,
he made the business very successful and to keep that up, Oliver and Ted need
to get a new partner to take his place. That means that the new partner will
buy Dad's share in the business from us.”

Clay
clearly felt that he needed to help his mother get through this discussion. “So
we won't get a share of the profits anymore?”

Kate
nodded. “That's right. So we're going to have to make some changes and I want
to talk with you about them.”

“Mom,”
Clay said. “We can get jobs.”

“Yeah,”
Patrick chimed in. “When I'm sixteen, I'll work at McDonald's.”

Kate's
eyes blurred with tears. “You guys are won-derful, but I'm the one who's going
to get a job.”

She
almost laughed at the skeptical expressions on their faces. “I was a structural
engineer when I met Dad, you know. And I worked as a consulting engineer even
after you were born, Clay.”

“But
that was a long time ago,” Clay said. “Do you remember all that stuff?”

Kate
sighed because she wasn't sure herself. But she said firmly, “Of course I do.
And I loved building things. Your dad and I worked on one skyscraper together.
We showed it to you in New York City, remember?”

Clay
looked at Patrick. “That was the day you wanted to go to the video arcade.”

“And
you wanted to go to the Museum of Natural History,” Patrick said. “We went to
see buildings instead.”

“We
also went to the Statue of Liberty,” Kate pointed out.

“That
was cool,” Clay admitted.

“I
miss going on adventures with Dad,” Patrick said in a small voice.

“Me,
too,” Clay said.

“We
all do,” Kate said, her heart breaking for them— and herself. She brought the
conversation back to the original topic. “The problem is that it probably will
take me a while to get a good job, and right now I think we need some extra
money to tide us over. I hate to do it but I think that we're going to have to sell
the Porsche.”

Patrick
opened his mouth but Clay stopped him with a warning glance. “It's okay, Mom,
we understand,” he said. “Mr. Hennessey might be interested. And he'd take good
care of it.”

“I'll
call him first,” Kate promised. Their neighbor, Tim Hennessey, had sometimes
worked on the car with David and the boys before they took it out for its
once-a-week drive.

“And
if he doesn't want it, maybe your boyfriend, Mr. Johnson, would buy it. He's
rich,” Patrick said helpfully.

Kate
choked, and then quickly recovered enough to say, “I don't think I'll offer it
to Mr. Johnson. He's got several cars already.”

She
patted the sofa on both sides of her. “That's enough serious stuff. How about a
hug for Mom?” The boys rolled their eyes and dragged their feet, but they
stayed beside her on the couch for a long time.

Monday
morning found Kate on the telephone to every former business associate and
client she could unearth from her old Rolodex. She had concluded that with some
creative scrimping and saving she could get by with a part-time job. That way
she could still spend time with Clay and Patrick. She had also braced herself
to beg rides for the boys, since she wouldn't be able to drive them around if
she was at work. She hated to impose on her friends, but she realized she was
going to have to sacrifice her pride along with the Porsche. The responses to
her business calls were discouraging, so she welcomed the interruption when
Georgia called at lunchtime.

“Kate,
are you mad at me?”

Kate
was taken by surprise. “No. Why?”

“Because
you didn't tell me that you had a date with Randall Johnson on Friday night.
How could you keep that from your best friend? I'm hurt, I'm insulted, I'm
dying of curiosity.”

Kate
groaned. “Who told you that?”

“Patrick.
On Sunday when you were out jogging with Gretchen.”

“He
didn't tell me that you called!”

“Does
that surprise you? But don't try to change the subject. You've been holding out
on me and I'm going to get to the bottom of this. What happened?”

Kate
sighed. Georgia wasn't a lawyer for nothing; she never let up on a witness. In
this case, however, Kate had no intention of telling her what had really
happened. She hated to lie – and she wasn't very good at it – but she let her
genuine embarrassment show in her voice as she made up her story. “Well, I kept
stewing over what you had said about David and finally I just called Randall
Johnson at his office and asked him if his dinner invitation was still open.”

“You
must have been furious. The Kate Chilton I knew would never call a man. You go,
girl!”

“It
wasn't such a great idea. He took me out to dinner but I think he was bored.”
Kate hoped that downplaying the date would keep Georgia from asking questions
she couldn't think of an answer for.

“Why
do you think that?”

“He
didn't want to talk about his work and he wasn't much interested in Clay and
Patrick's extracurricular activities, so we sort of ran out of subjects to
discuss,” Kate ad-libbed.

Georgia
sounded suspicious. “Where did he take you?”

Kate
came up with the name of an expensive New York restaurant she and David had
gone to once and prayed that it was still in business.

“Very
nice,” Georgia approved. “What did you eat?”

Now
Kate knew that Georgia was trying to trip her up. “Georgia!”

“All
right. Listen, I don't know what happened between you and Randall Johnson, but
I do know that you've never in your life bored a man at dinner. You realize
that if you married him, you'd never have to worry about money.”

“That's
not funny.”

“It's
true.”

Kate
was silent a moment, then stated with quiet vehemence, “I will not depend on a
man ever again.”

“It
was just a passing thought. I don't really see him as husband material anyway.
Many women have tried and failed to get a wedding ring out of him. Although I
do know one lady who got a very nice diamond bracelet,” Georgia said in a
musing tone. “You could always pawn it. Sorry, there goes my other line. I'll
talk to you later.”

When
Clay and Patrick came home from school, they requested permission to go on a
mysterious errand. Since they promised to stay together and remain in the
neighborhood, Kate let them go. She was starting to fix dinner when they came
in the back door looking very pleased with themselves.

“Mom,
we have an important announcement,” Patrick said.

Kate
stopped chopping carrots. They looked so handsome standing shoulder to shoulder
that she had to smile. The brothers exchanged a silent look and then Clay took
over.

“We
have a job,” he said, breaking into a proud grin.

Kate
came around the counter to stand in front of them. “You do? That's wonderful!
What kind of job?”

“We're
walking dogs,” Clay said.

“Four
dogs,” Patrick grinned. “Max, Jonesy, Sherri and Thunder. Every weekday after
school.”

Clay
said seriously, “We'll make enough money to buy lunch at school and have some
left over. We thought that it would help.”

Kate
gathered them into a hug. “I'm so proud of you two. It will help a lot. You are
the greatest children a mother could have.”

Clay
realized that his mother was crying and said, “Mom, we wanted to cheer you up!”

Kate
smiled through the blur. “You have cheered me up more than you can possibly
imagine.” She stood up and grabbed a Kleenex. “This calls for a celebration!
We'll have ice cream sundaes for dessert.”

“Cool,”
Clay said as he hauled his backpack up the stairs to start his homework.

“Yeah,”
Patrick agreed, following his brother. “Too bad we still have to do homework.”
He looked hopefully at Kate. She gave him a fond smile but waved him upstairs.
“Oh, well,” he sighed.

Kate
stood in the kitchen, her tears flowing freely, as she let the torrent of
maternal pride sweep through her. She felt a small surge of her old confidence;
she couldn't have been a total failure if she had raised Clay and Patrick.

The
three of them would be just fine.

Tom
Rogan walked past Randall's administrative assistant, Gail Anderson, on his way
to the CEO's office. “Tread carefully,” she said, glancing up from her computer
screen. “He's touchy this morning.”

Tom
tried to hand off the sheaf of papers he was carrying. “Then you take these
into him. I prefer not to get my head bitten off so early in the week.”

Gail
laughed and waved him past. “Just don't tell him anything he doesn't want to
hear and you'll be fine.”

“My
job
is to tell him things he doesn't
want to hear.” Tom braced his shoulders and with an air of martyrdom that made
Gail laugh again, walked into Randall Johnson's office.

His
boss was reading and deleting E-mails at a dizzying pace. He glanced up quickly
and then went back to his task. “You don't look happy, Tom.”

Tom
sat down and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Despite his banter
with Gail, he was completely at ease.

“I'm
not happy because you're not going to be happy,” he said, leaning forward and
pushing some of his papers across Randall's desk. “It's the Mason deal. Gill
Gillespie and his Texas lawyers are at it again. They object to clauses 22c and
29f this time.”

“Now
how the
hell
am I supposed to
remember what clauses 22c and 29f are?” Randall said irritably as he swiveled
to face Tom.

“They're
circled in red,” Tom said neutrally, as he pointed to the contract.

Randall
quickly skimmed the offending sentences. “That's it? Fine, take them out. Then
tell those sons of bitches that I'm coming down
personally
on” – he checked his computer screen –”October
twenty-third to sign the deal. If they haven't signed off on the contract by
then, the whole thing's off.”

Tom
jotted the date down. “Why are we wasting our time on Mason Bank? If you want
to buy a bank I can find half a dozen with better balance sheets. And less annoying
lawyers.”

Randall's
smile disappeared. “It reminds me of my youth.”

“Don't
tell me that you're getting sentimental all of a sudden.”

“Have
I made a bad deal yet?”

“No,”
Tom admitted. “But this one isn't making sense to me.”

“Just
get it done,” Randall said, as he turned back to his computer.

Tom
recognized his cue to leave but he felt like probing Randall's mood. “How was
your date on Friday?”

Randall
ignored him.

“That
bad?” Tom said in a saccharinely sympathetic tone. “Well, I'll leave you to
brood over your lack of success with the lady.”

“There's
nothing to brood over. If anything, I was too successful.”

Tom
sat forward in his chair. “How can you be too successful?”

“We
never made it to dinner.”

“Incredible,”
Tom said, shaking his head in admiration. “You seduced her in the back of your
car?”

“Why
am I having this discussion with you?”

“Because
this is as close as you get to a locker room bragging session, and we all need
to brag about our sex life occasionally.”

“If
you have some more business to discuss, go ahead. Otherwise, this meeting is
over.”