Mr. Wrong (A Homespun Romance) (6 page)

“Not only do I have to marry Harold,” Kate said hating her voice for trembling, “I want to.  He’s the only person who can make everything alright for me.”

Brady opened his mouth to argue but the weariness in her eyes stopped him.  She looked drained, like a child who couldn’t take any more, and his heart melted all ever again.

Silently, he turned and walked beside her back to his car.

Kate had never been more miserable.  She didn’t really want all those things, just the freedom from fear of being poorer than a church mouse ever again.  Since Brady had dropped her in the parking lot of the preschool Monday night, she had been unable to get the man out of her mind.  It was as if he was a genie whose touch had changed her into a different Kate.  One who wanted to get her teeth into the original apple.  The feel of his hard body was branded into her flesh, the rich warmth of his lips as they had moved over hers burnt into her brain, leaving her with an odd restless longing for more of the same.  She had barely slept that night but all her mental meanderings had brought her back to the same point.  A lifetime of security was not to be thrown away for a few moments of madcap transitory passion.

“Kathryn will you marry me?”  Kate looked at Harold down on one knee holding out a velvet box to her.  The sight left her cold.

“Katie, you’re mine!”  The ghostly whisper in her ears was as clear as if Brady was beside her.  Even now her blood coursed through her like a fire at the memory.

What had gone wrong?  For six months she had thought about this day, about being Mrs. Harold Jensen.  And now.  Her stomach turned and Kate’s hand stiffened in Harold’s grasp.

An image intruded on her mental screen.  A gangling awkward girl being dosed with castor oil by a mother who had looked on it as the cure for all ills.  Her stomach had churned just this way then too in revolt.

"Kathryn?”  He looked surprised.

"I need time to think about it, Harold,” she said gently, noting the flash of annoyance that marred his perfect features for a moment.

A good night’s sleep was what she needed.  It was just that she was tired and couldn’t think straight.  In the morning everything would be fine.

Harold got to his feet.  “All girls do”, he conceded but there was a note in his voice that said he wasn’t pleased.

Looking back Kate wondered if things would have been different if Harold had mentioned love.  True, outside the house he had tried to sweep her into his arms but she had slipped from the car with a swift, "thank you and goodnight Harold.” 

Then she had run up the flight of stairs to her apartment as if all the devils in Hell were after her.  Way to go Kate!

Kate closed her eyes.  If she felt like this now what would it be like to be married to the man.  The greasy sensation of castor oil in her mouth returned peremptorily editing the picture of her love making with Harold.

It wasn’t Harold’s fault.  He had never made any attempt to hide what he was and until Monday she had really believed he was her future and her happiness.  Did the fact she was thinking like this prove that Brady had guided her just in time to the realization that she could feel more for a man than she had led herself to think?  If so, who was that man?  Brady? 

No, she wouldn’t let infatuation ruin her.  She would just have to keep looking.  Luckily, Harold wasn’t the only rich man left in the world. 

With a pang, Kate remembered the hundred odd dollars she had spent on his birthday gift.  She could have done so much with that money. 

"A fool and his money are soon parted,” she told herself whimsically, "Let it be a lesson to you, Kathryn McArthur.” 

Maybe he would be the perfect gentleman and return it.  After all, girls returned rings didn’t they?

Stifling her first giggle in days, Kate paused, a fresh thought occurring to her.  Harold had taken it for granted she’d drop everything once they were married.  Her job, the classes she was taking.  Which showed how much he knew of her.  But then Harold had never been interested in her work or the classes she was taking at Cal Poly.  Harold didn’t know her favorite color, the flavor of ice cream she liked best, her fears or her dreams.  Harold was only interested in Harold.

Who did he think he was marrying?  A walkie talkie doll with a key in her side? One his mother and he could wind up at will?  The smile faded from her lips.  That was exactly what she would have let herself become if it hadn’t been for one man.  Brady.  Even if nothing came of their relationship, he had steered her toward the light.  She would get over him too.

Oh yeah?  He’s not going to let you get over him.

Rushing into her bathroom Kate turned both taps in her washbasin on full and tried to drown out her traitorous thoughts.

Saturday.  Katie lay still in her bed turning her head sideways for the glimpse of sky through the curtains.  Her birthday.  She was  four today.  Harold seemed to have forgotten her birthday completely; not mentioning anything about spending the day together or a date.  Even Nan Kettle had remembered, slipping her a gaily wrapped package yesterday with a hug and a kiss. 

Snuggling down in her soft, cream colored quilt, Kate decided to take stock of her life.  This apartment in one of the best areas in Jacaranda Meadows was a far cry from the little, paint blistered house and even if the rest of her plans weren’t working out exactly like the mental blueprint she had drawn up, at least she was headed in the right direction.  Meanwhile she liked her work, had one good friend in Nan Kettle, and intended making the best of things till the next eligible candidate came her way. 

`It’s just a matter of positive thinking,” she assured herself getting out of bed.

The doorbell rang as she finished her poached egg.  Had Harold remembered?  Kate went to the door, flung it open, formulating a reason not to go out with Harold. 

Her breath caught in her throat.  Last month the Guthries had installed a security door which helped allow the fresh air in during the long hot summer days and she saw the man on her doorstep right away, through the metal screen upper half.  Being Brady, he would know where she lived.

"Good morning.” 

Kate shied away from those powerful eyes to wander down his body in a swift perusal.  She didn’t need to get any closer to know the striped tee shirt and the navy shorts encased his body beautifully, emphasizing the lean hardness that she enjoyed looking at.  Too much for her own good.  Kate looked away and ran a hand through her curls.

"Aren’t you going to ask me in?”  The reminder held a gently teasing note.

Kate took the door off the latch releasing the pent up breath in her body slowly.  A wave of gladness surged up to take its place threatening to compress her insides with its force.

"Happy Birthday, Katie!”  He held out a small square box wrapped up in elegant green foil with a silvery design on it. 

"You know?”  Kate said blankly.  "How?”

Give yourself a ten for eloquence every time he’s around woman.

"It’s on your driver’s license.”

"Oh!” said Kate, her mind going back to their first meeting when he’d seen the item mentioned.  He had barely seem to glance at it then but apparently his gimlet gaze had noticed and remembered the second of May. 

Aware that he was watching her she said hurriedly, "Please sit down.  Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”

What on earth had made her say ‘or something’?

But Brady had ensconced himself in her armchair.

“Coffee will be great,” he said. 

Turning away to put the water on, Kate wasn’t sure but thought she heard the words `for now', added on.

A shaft of exquisite trepidation splintered within her, making her knees feel like modeling clay.

"I don’t have perked coffee,” she apologized.

"Instant will do fine.”

He had cut himself shaving.   The tiny nick above his upper lip drew her eyes like a magnet.  She wanted to press her lips to it, run her fingers over those sensual lips, feel them against her own, draining her very soul from her body.

Weak with longing she turned away, spooned coffee into one mug and put a tea bag in another.

"How’s Cody doing in school?” he asked after she had checked his preferences for cream and sugar and handed him a steaming mug.

"Fine.  He’s a real sweetheart.  You should see what he’s made for Mother’s Day.” 

Cody’s mother would love the impression of her son’s little hands with the verse under it about giving her a final small print to remember.  Kate showed Brady the copy she had brought home, aware that she was babbling again and not caring much about it.

Please keep talking, please.  Don’t let that awful, zany hunger between us become a monster and devour us both.

"Aren’t you going to open your presents, Katie?”  His warm, velvety voice slid down her spine, flicking her nerve endings like a whip and she jumped up, picking up Nan Kettle’s first.

It was a top, knitted entirely out of half inch ribbon with a scoop neckline and elbow length sleeves, in polo green, absolutely gorgeous.  Kate had admired the pattern in a magazine once.  Thinking of the time it must have taken Nan to make it, the fingers that were bent with arthritis, Kate’s eyes filled.

"From Mrs. Kettle,” she explained to Brady chokily, and then reached for his package missing the affection that flared in his eyes at her reaction.

The box inside told her what it was before she lifted the lid with fingers that shook.  It fitted with everything she knew about this man.

"Thank you so much.”  Kate said, staring at the wild violets in the glass as if her life depended on it.

He had noticed her looking at the paperweight too?

It was strange the way Brady could effortlessly get closer to her than anyone ever had in her life.  Kate didn’t like the feeling.  Letting someone into the secret regions of one’s heart and soul meant vulnerability.  The roller coaster ride Brady was trying to tempt her on to could only end in disaster for her.

"Many Happy Returns Katie,” Brady’s voice slid down her spine again and then wandered casually through her central nervous system till every nerve ending quivered.

Picking up her mug of tea, she hid her face in it.  He was doing it to her again.  Reducing her to a mass of helpless frenzied need.  Encroaching on the tight wall of self-control she had maintained so effortlessly in the past and toppling it, brick by weightless brick.  What would happen when it all crumbled completely?

Brady stared at her moodily.  He wanted to have her in his arms, tell her he loved her and ask her to marry him.  Then he wanted to take her out and buy her emeralds for her birthday, to match her eyes.  He had almost given in to the urge to get a heart shaped pendant, that he’d seen, set with tiny glowing emeralds, but with Katie that just might be the final straw as far as he was concerned.  Used to women who recognized their feelings and demanded fulfillment as easily as a child asking for candy, this continuous war of self-denial Katie waged with herself baffled him.  In his circle, kisses were given as casually as smiles.  With Katie he’d felt like a trespasser the first time they’d kissed, till she’d responded to him.  At times he felt like telling her the truth but something always held him back.  For both their sakes, he wanted to feel it was love that melded them together.  From experience he knew it wouldn’t be hard to sweep Katie off her feet and into bed with him, but then later she might hate him.  He couldn’t risk losing her.  No, he’d have to exercise all the caution of a tightrope walker, the skill of a surgeon, the patience he didn’t have, to win her.

"Katie, will you spend the day with me?”

She looked up, startled, not quite sure what he wanted, stiffening as her heightened senses guessed at the palpable danger in his suggestion. 

She ought to send him away, tell him she was spending the day with Nan, tell him Harold was taking her out, anything that would put distance between them but she couldn’t.  Feeling like a child atop a precarious perch, reaching for a forbidden treat, Kate knew she could no more stop herself than she could marry Harold.

"I’ve brought a picnic and I thought we could go to the beach for the day.  If you want to swim bring along your things.  I’m sure the water is warm enough by now.”

Kate was sure it was too.  If not, it would be by the time she’d been in it a while.

"Katie?” Brady’s voice prodded her back to the present, gently reminding her he was still waiting for an answer.

"I could get some shells and sand for a craft project,” she said aloud, trying to justify accepting the invitation to herself.

“Sure,” said Brady easily.

I’ll get you the ocean if you want.  Only come, he agonized silently.

“I’d like to go on a picnic, thank you, if you don’t mind waiting a while.” 

Do you have to sound like someone out of Pride and Prejudice Kate McArthur?

"Take all the time you want.”  Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes nestling with another expression she couldn’t define as he looked at her.

Picking up the top Nan had given her, Kate hurried into her bedroom leaving Brady to look around the apartment.