Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) (33 page)

She bent down, picked it up and rinsed it at the sink. Then, as if she had all the time in the world, she turned and looked at Matthew, who was standing in the doorway.

"Walking into a room unannounced isn't very polite, you know." She opened the refrigerator again and took out a container of conch salad. "But I don't suppose you let things like that bother you much."

"I asked you a question, Kathryn. Who is that man?"

"I heard you. And it's none of your business."

"Are you his mistress?"

Carefully, she arranged lettuce leaves and tomato slices in a circle around a plate. Then she opened the container of salad and began spooning it into the center.

"Are you his lover?"

Kathryn looked up. "Is there a difference?" she asked politely.

"Forgive me. The questions were foolish. Obviously, you are neither."

"Isn't that nice?" she said, even more politely. "You're not only a ghost, you're also a clairvoyant."

Matthew looked grim. "If you were his mistress, you'd be in that bed with him now because he would want it."

"What an interesting perception."

"If you were his lover, you'd be there because you would want it."

Kathryn began to set the table. "A charming distinction," she said, "but wrong. I wouldn't be in that bed under any circumstances, not so long as you might be standing in the corner, watching."

"Your modesty is touching."

"Jason will be down soon, Matthew. I'd appreciate it if—"

"If you are not his mistress or his lover, what is he doing here?"

"I told you, it's none of your business."

"It is, so long as we share this house."

Kathryn's patience ran out. She swung around eyes snapping.

"Sharing it certainly isn't my idea. If you don't like the arrangement, get out. I'm not stopping you."

For an instant, the arrogant look slipped from his face.

"No, you are not. But someone is. God. Or the Devil. I know not which."

What did he mean? And why did he look so upset? She almost asked him but then she remembered how he had treated her last night, the way he had told her to leave Charon's Crossing, and her resolve, as well as her spine, stiffened.

"I'm not going to get into a philosophical debate," she said coolly. "No matter what you say, this house belongs to me. And I'm not going to be questioned or ordered around while I'm in it."

The familiar, imperious look settled once again over Matthew's face.

"That is your right, madam. I ask only that you observe the rules of propriety so that neither of us is disgraced while we share the same domicile."

Kathryn laughed. "I don't believe it! You, talking about propriety? You appear like a rabbit popping out of a hat whenever you feel like it, you vanish in a puff of smoke when it suits you, you stand around kibitzing when I'm trying to have a serious conversation with someone—"

"Kibitzing? What does that mean?"

"It means making a pain in the ass of yourself."

His eyebrows rose. "My, my. Such inelegant language. I'm astonished."

Kathryn's smile was all teeth. "Stick around," she said. "You ain't heard nothin' yet!"

Matthew strolled past her to the stove. "The coffee's ready." He leaned forward and took a sniff of the steam rising from the pot. "Mmm. It smells wonderful."

"It
is
wonderful." She turned just as he took a mug from the cabinet. "I happen to make terrific coffee, but not for you," she said, snatching the mug from his hand, "for Jason."

"Jason." His voice was tinged with disdain. "The man who fears rats and a bit of dirt."

"Jason," Kathryn said coldly. "The man I'm engaged to marry."

Matthew's eyebrows shot skyward. He kicked a chair out from under the table, turned it around, straddled it and sat down.

"That explains it," he said.

"Explains what?"

"Why you were so unwilling to sleep with him. The rules of the game are unchanged, I see."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed. "What game?"

"The one in which a woman plays at remaining virtuous since she knows that a man will not marry her if he believes otherwise."

"Aha," she said.

She leaned back against the counter, her arms folded. God, Matthew thought, she was incredibly lovely. Anger had swept color into her cheeks and darkened her eyes to a stormy blue. Her breathing was quick, so that her high, rounded breasts rose and fell with a cadence that made his body tighten.

How easy it would be to kick aside the chair, go to her and take her in his arms, kiss her until all that anger and heat turned to desire and passion.

Hell, he had to be going mad. How could he hate her one minute and want her the next? She was too stubborn by far, too cantankerous.

And then there was the little matter of Cat's blood, tainting her veins.

He had forgotten what in hell they'd been talking about.

"Aha, what?" he asked, frowning.

"Aha, you are such a dense male, Captain McDowell." Kathryn slammed a handful of silverware onto the table. "The times have changed I'm happy to say. Women aren't judged by a double standard anymore."

"With regard to what?"

"With regard to sex. Today's women have the same freedom of choice men have always had."

He shrugged. "There have always been females willing to lift their skirts for the men who asked them."

"You're not listening. I'm telling you that women don't have to play games. If a woman wants to sleep with a man, she does."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," she said, deliberately ignoring AIDS, Katie Rolphe, Gloria Steinem, and the ongoing debate on feminism.

"Really," Matthew said politely.

"Really."

"Let me be sure I have this right. What you are saying, then, is that you simply do not want to sleep with your Jason. Is that correct?"

Kathryn smothered a groan. It was check, but not mate.

"Not today, no."

"Because I'm here."

"Yes."

He smiled. "I cannot pass the boundaries of Charon's Crossing, but the estate covers lots of ground. Just say the word and you won't see me again for the rest of the weekend."

"What do you mean, you can't pass the boundaries of Charon's Crossing?"

"I mean exactly what I said, madam, and please don't change the subject. Do you wish me to make myself absent?"

Now, it was check and mate. She glared at him and then she pulled open a drawer and began taking out heavy damask napkins and silverware.

"Thank you for the offer, but my sex life is not dependent on your decisions."

Matthew let out his breath. And a damned good thing it wasn't, he thought fiercely, because he had no intention of leaving so she could fall into bed with that priapic fool upstairs.

Hell. Hell! Why were things getting so damned complicated?

"What is it dependent on, then?" he asked, pleased with the calmness of his voice. He reached out, took a slice of tomato from the platter, and put it in his mouth. The taste was ambrosial. "Poor Jason seemed quite filled with need."

Kathryn slapped his hand as he reached for another piece of tomato.

"Jason's needs, and mine, are none of your concern."

"I suppose not." He knew she was right, but that wouldn't stop him. He wanted to hear her admit that she'd melted like the molasses in a hot rum toddy in his arms and not in those of the man to whom she was betrothed.

Call it ego. Call it the frustration of a man who'd been celibate three times longer than most men lived. Call it the madness that had been driving him ever since he'd kissed her...

He wanted to hear her say it. Dammit, he wanted to have her show it, to go into his arms and lift that soft, sweet mouth to his, and to hell with whether it was logical or not.

He rose to his feet, kicked back the chair, and went to her.

"Kathryn."

Kathryn's heart skipped a beat. Matthew was right behind her. She could feel the brush of his body against hers, the whisper of his breath stirring her hair. Nothing they'd said for the past half hour had been pleasant or even polite, and suddenly she knew why.

It had nothing to do with Jason.

What it had to do with was the river of flame running between them.

Matthew had not touched her in days but that didn't keep her from remembering the taste of his mouth or the heat of his body. She remembered what it was like to be in his arms, to feel his hand seeking the thrusting curve of her breast.

He whispered her name again and his arms went around her. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as he nuzzled her hair away from her throat and pressed his lips to her skin.

"No," she whispered, but she was already turning in his arms.

"Yes," he said, and then he was kissing her and there was no point in pretending it wasn't what she wanted, what she'd longed for since that first incredible dream. She breathed her surrender and he groaned and parted her lips with his in a deep, passionate kiss.

"Matthew," she whispered, and her arms wound around his neck.

"Kathryn?"

Her eyes flew open at the sound of Jason's voice.

He was standing in the doorway, staring at her. He'd changed into Bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved white shirt with the collar left unbuttoned, and his hair was still wet from the shower. Her brain registered all those details in a desperate attempt to avoid the only one that mattered, which was the look of complete bewilderment on his face.

"Kathryn? What the hell are you doing?"

Matthew let go of her and gave a throaty laugh. "Tell him, why don't you?"

"Go away!"

"Dammit, Kathryn," Jason said, "I am not going to go away!" He marched towards her, his face grim. "Not before you tell me what in blazes is going on around here!"

"I didn't mean you," she said hurriedly, "I meant..." Oh, it was useless! How could she possibly explain why she was standing here alone, her head tilted back, her arms lifted and curled around what must, to him, have looked like nothing but air?

"I—-I was doing a—a Tai Chi exercise," she said in desperation.

"Tai Chi?"

"Yes. You know, the old Asian stuff where you do all these slow poses and stuff... I, ah, I didn't want you to see me doing them because—because..."

She gave a little cry as Matthew's lips brushed the back of her neck.

"You have an admirable imagination, Kathryn," he said, with laughter in his voice. "I'll leave you alone with it, and with your intended. Have a pleasant lunch."

She knew the second he vanished. The air behind her seemed cooler, and it became easier to think.

"Jason," she said, "don't look at me like that." She forced a smile to her lips. "I feel silly enough, getting caught in the middle of my exercises."

"That's not what it looked like. You seemed to be... you looked like you were..."

It wasn't easy, but Kathryn said nothing. After a moment, Jason shook his head and flashed a self-deprecating smile.

"Never mind. You'll think I'm nuts."

Kathryn scooted around the table and hurried into his arms.

"Oh, Jason. You don't know how glad I am that you're here!"

She closed her eyes tight and burrowed against him. He felt solid and familiar and comforting. After what seemed a long, long time, she drew back and smiled.

"Now," she said briskly, "let's have some lunch. And then I'll take you out and show you all the sights."

* * *

It was a pleasant day.

Kathryn relinquished the driver's seat of her ancient VW to Jason, who'd forgotten more about shifting gears and using a clutch than she had, so that they both ended up laughing each time the bright yellow Beetle lurched down a road.

They took a leisurely stroll along the narrow streets of Hawkins Bay. Jason bought them matching hats at the straw market and T-shirts that said Cool Caribbean Breezes on the front but "made in Hong Kong" inside the neck.

At sundown, they found a little cafe on the water that served garlic-drenched mussels and deep-fried grouper. They ate until they groaned, washing it all down with a pitcher of English lager. And they danced to old tunes blaring from a Wurlitzer so ancient it would have brought a bundle at any antiques market back in New York.

The moon was riding high in the black velvet sky when they returned to Charon's Crossing. The house was silent and dark, and Kathryn let Jason kiss her as they made their way up the stairs together.

But when they reached the bedroom and his kisses grew more intense, she turned her face away.

"Just relax, darling," he murmured. He took her face between his hands and brought her mouth to his. "It'll be good, I promise."

She wanted to believe him. She let him kiss her some more. She wanted to feel something; she wanted to feel what she'd felt in Matthew's arms. Why didn't she? Maybe Matthew was nearby. Maybe he was watching. Maybe that was why she couldn't react to Jason's increasingly passionate caresses.