Mr. Wrong (A Homespun Romance) (7 page)

The room he was in held two armchairs, with a small end table in between, and a thirteen inch television set on a stand.  He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen one of the latter.  By the kitchen alcove there was a small card table and two chairs.  Against one wall was a metal filing cabinet that had obviously seen better days.  The card table obviously doubled as her work and study surface to judge from the pile of books lying on it.  The whole place was clean, tidy, but something about it bothered him.  Carrying the mugs to the kitchen sink he rinsed them out wondering what it was about the place that he didn’t like.  Then it came to him and he scowled.  There was nothing in this room that betokened the warmth and love his Katie was capable of.  Not a single cushion, picture or knick knack.  The room was as impersonal as a hospital room.  And as stark.  There were none of the touches that made a place a home.  Her classroom was bright and colorful, eye catching, unlike her apartment.  It was as if Katie didn’t want anyone to see beyond the tough facade she chose to present to the world.  As if she was scared to let go of the tight hold she had over herself even here, and express her true personality. 

He had been as mad as a disturbed hornet after their last meeting but when he had dissected everything they’d said and done, and remembered the way Katie had melted against him, he had known there was nothing wrong with his first impression. 

She might think of herself as cool and calculated but she wasn’t.  The true Katie had revealed herself in his arms as all woman.  His.  He sensed the battle she was going to face in the days that followed, trying to deny her feelings and hold on to the picture she’d drawn of herself.  Didn’t believe in love, was it?  The lawyer in him was going to enjoy proving her wrong.  And the man in him was going to be waiting for her when she came out of the cold monolith she had entombed herself in.

Kate came out and looked at Brady shyly.  Nan’s gift was beautiful. It clung to her breasts like a sculpted garment and then hugged the rest of her faithfully not leaving a thing to the imagination.  She saw the flare of appreciation in Brady’s eyes as he saw her.  The tiny white bow in the center of the neckline drew his attention to the creamy slope of her skin above.  Though the neckline wasn’t low, it was definitely suggestive.  Thank goodness the Capris weren’t the leave nothing to imagination variety.  His blood pressure could only handle so much.

"You look beautiful,” the huskiness in his voice affected Kate more than Harold’s polished compliments and she felt her knees quiver weakly with the longing to sag against him and beg him to kiss her. 

She’d read a historical romance once where all the heroine seemed to do was flutter and swoon and had been heartily glad she lived in a day and age where she wasn’t expected to do those things. She was positive she would have been a dismal failure at it, but now she wasn’t so sure.  She seemed to flutter and feel faint with the best of them whenever Brady was around.  There was no sign of the twenty first century, able-to-take-care-of-myself-woman about her when he was around.  The thought of swooning gracefully into those strong arms at this very moment was especially tempting.

Don’t do this to yourself Kate McArthur.  The man spells trouble with all capitals.  People like you never get a second chance.  Blow the only one you’ll ever have and you’ll regret it all the days of your life.

Kate slipped one arm into the voluminous shirt she had brought out of the bedroom.

`What’s that for?”

“I burn easily,” she lied. 

Redheads were supposed to weren’t they?  Besides she needed to hide from him.

Brady plucked the shirt from her nerveless fingers and threw it on the chair he had occupied.

“Leave it,” he said tersely, unable to bear the thought that the shirt was just one more thing Katie was using to hide behind, “I’ve got a beach umbrella.  You’ll have all the shade you want under it.  Besides, I have tons of sunscreen too. I’ll wait in the car for you.”

So, he’s angry, Kate thought as Brady left the room.  Well maybe by the end of the day he would be tired of her and never ask her out again.  Which would suit her just fine.

Sliding a glance at Brady when she got into the car five minutes later she wondered if he was still annoyed.  As usual he had seen through her little ruse immediately.

"All set?”  His smile diffused her apprehension and she smiled back, grateful that he hadn’t held on to his anger. 

A day hadn’t gone by in her early years that she hadn’t been exposed to anger of one kind or the other.  The virulence of a man who had never accepted his own faults, his frustrated wrath when he didn’t have the money for the hard, cheap liquor that boosted his courage, the empty rages he would fly into over trifles. 

Her mother’s anger had been different.  A slow long burning kind against the hand she’d been dealt, that she had never voiced, allowing it to sap her life in the end. 

And then there had been Kate’s own anger.  How bitterly she had railed against everything as a child, in her mind.  How often she had seemed to reach the end of her tether.  In her teens, she had learned
self-control, realizing anger was an impediment to her plans.  None of her exposure to it though had ever hardened her enough not to let anger matter.  It could still turn her into the quivering morass of nerves she’d been as a child, when confronted with it and in Brady’s quick relinquishment of his, she had found another facet of the man to admire.

CHAPTER
4

The powerful car purred along smoothly, trading in on its excellent condition, and Kate looked out of the window absurdly content to be in it, with Brady.  The light smog inland cleared as they neared the coast, allowing a glimpse of perfect blue sky.

Ignoring the State Beach signs, Brady parked the car beside the road when he saw a likely spot.  Though it was May, the Pacific could still be cold and this early in the day there was no one else about.  Hoping it stayed that way, he carried the picnic basket and a huge umbrella to a spot just above the water line and set up the latter, angling it to provide shade. 

Kate followed with a blanket and the two huge towels in the trunk.  She hadn’t even thought to bring one of her own.

“Do you swim, Katie?”

“Yes.”

Now comes the awkward part she thought.

“Want to wade?”

Kate stared.  He knew she hadn’t packed a swimsuit too?  She hadn’t wanted to risk it.  Every moment with Brady was taking her further out of her depth and wearing a bikini that showed more than it covered, watching his eyes catch fire, letting him rub her down with suntan oil would be letting herself get out where strong currents held sway.  No, she couldn’t take that risk.

“Yes,”

Brady slipped off his jeans and tee shirt and Kate stared fixedly out at the water.  From the corner of her eye she could see the corded expanse of him.  She knew she daren’t turn to look at him now.  Just the thought of seeing his body had her awash with a tremendous sensation of delicious danger, warning her she might be too far out of her depth already.

They walked in silence to the water’s edge.  Kate guessed it must be cold.  A second later she knew it.  The chill of the water made her gasp and when she would have retreated Brady’s hand reached out for her.

“You’ll get used to it,” he insisted walking her further into it. 

And she did.

There was something hypnotic about standing out in the water letting each wave wash up a little higher, gazing out at the sun rippled expanse.  Kate looked up at the expanse of cloudless blue sky and then at the obsidian green of the water.  Far away a boat bobbed as if it were painted into the scene.  Behind them, the beach curved and in the distance she could see spots of color on the State beach, looking like the pieces of Legos the children played with.  Except for an inquisitive gull, eyeing the picnic basket knowingly, there was no one near them. 

"Brady!” A wave higher than all the rest came in and automatically she turned into him and burrowed her face against his chest as it broke over them chest high.

"I’ve done it now,” Kate thought breathing deeply of the male skin under her face.  One of her hands was resting on his chest and she noted how smooth it felt under her fingers.  Splaying them as if to capture more of the sensation, she stayed where she was, conscious of Brady’s hand on the curve of her hip.

“Katie.”

She lifted her head to him and his lips took hers, blanking out everything else except the two of them and this white heat inside that threatened to burst out of her and explode.

Brady’s hands came up to cup her face and he drank deeply of the sweet nectar that was his Katie.  Her tongue came out to touch his, shyly at first then at his response, with increasing boldness flicking him over the edge of sanity.

Neither could tell how much time passed as they explored each other’s mouth with hungry abandon.  It wasn’t till another large wave raced to shore and swept over them that Brady dragged his mouth from hers with an effort.

They walked back to shore too caught up in the maelstrom of passion to say anything.  Kate was shivering with reaction by the time they reached the rug Brady had spread out earlier and sank onto it wordlessly. 

How could she?  Brady must think her a regular tease.  She kept insisting she had to marry Harold and yet she had exchanged kisses with Brady that could have ignited the ocean.  Kate’s well kissed mouth quivered and her eyes filled with tears of self-loathing.  She was beginning to act just like some of the bubble heads at work.

"Did you bring anything to change into?”  Brady’s eyes were fixed on her straw bag.

The pain in her eyes  knifed through his own body, it’s intensity bringing a bitter taste into his mouth.  He’d got what he wanted but he didn’t want it to be at the expense of Katie’s peace of mind.

"No.”  Her waterlogged pants were clinging uncomfortably to her.

Brady passed her a towel, "Here, wrap yourself in this and take your pants off.  They’ll dry quicker that way.”

Preempting the argument he knew she would start he stood up and walked towards the water’s edge again, turning his back on her.

Kate hesitated for a minute before she grabbed the towel.  There was no sense in getting chilled.  Besides the ginormous towel would cover more of her than the pants had.  Securing it around her, tucking the ends in at her waist, she slipped her pants off wrung them out and spread them on the top of the umbrella to dry.

From her bag she removed her dark glasses and put them on.  Brady was out in the water swimming and for a minute Kate wished she was in there frolicking with him.  Because instinct told her Brady would know just how to frolic well.

She watched the waves as they raced to shore, sped over the sand and receded, leaving behind a pristine beauty.  If only she could be like the sand, let the waves erase every hard lesson imprinted on her mind, diffuse all the bitterness and leave her unmarked.

Brady got out of the water and as he approached Kate took in the sight of his brown body from behind the safety of her glasses.  Broad shoulders tapered down to a flat stomach and long
well-muscled legs.  The triangular mat of hair on his chest glistened with the drops of water it harbored.  His boxer type swimsuit clung to him and Kate swallowed hard, averted her eyes and blushed.  Brady sank down on the blanket, a foot behind her and she tensed with the longing to pick up the other towel and pat his back dry.

For a while there was silence while he rubbed himself down cursorily and threw the towel down.  Kate stared out at the water fixedly, flinching when his shoulder touched hers and made as if to move away.  But his hand came up around her holding her.

“Don’t Katie,” he admonished gently, “please don’t shut me out again.”

She sank into him then, letting her back draw comfort from his lean warmth closing her eyes, powerless to resist the gnawing ache inside her.

Oh God, what a mess.

Whipcord tense, Brady felt the softness of Katie’s back press into his chest.  The temptation to turn her into his arms and kiss her again was overwhelming, but he resisted it. 

Drawing her back with a gentle pressure on her shoulder till they were both lying full length on the rug, pillowing her head on the curve of his left shoulder Brady put his right hand on Katie’s head, rubbing a curl between thumb and forefinger, examining it’s texture, it’s springiness. 

"It’s so soft,” he said wonderingly, "Somehow I thought it would be coarser.  Do you perm it?”

Kate laughed glad to have something so normal to talk about.

"Uh-uh.  It’s always been like that.  When I was young, my mother kept it braided and it didn’t seem so awful, but since I cut it the first time it’s always coiled itself into these corkscrew curls.  There’s nothing I can do with it except have it cut and shaped from time to time.”

"What about when it’s wet?” asked Brady.

“It’s the same.  As if I’ve just had a perm.  I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I like it,” Brady’s hand slid slowly down the side of her face, resting for a second on her neck where it curved into her shoulder, before he removed it and Kate stiffened, but Brady lay there quietly, no other contact between their bodies except for her head resting on his sinewy shoulder.