See How She Dies (4 page)

“Can I have some cake, too?”

The corners around Katherine's mouth tightened, though she said, “Of course, darling. But then you go with Ginny upstairs. We've got a special room for you, right by Daddy and Mommy's, and we'll be up later to tuck you in.”

Mollified somewhat, London headed back to the party and Katherine straightened, smoothing her dress over her hips as Ginny followed her wayward charge.

Zach hoped that Katherine would hurry to the bandleader and order the musicians to strike up “Happy Birthday To You,” but she inched her chin up a fraction and eyed her stepson. Zach was three inches taller than Kat. Nonetheless, she had a way of making him feel small. “Stay away from the booze.” She plucked his empty champagne glass from the dirt and twirled the stem between her long, slim fingers. Even while reprimanding him, she was sexy as hell. As if she knew her power over him and any man who wasn't blind, she puckered her lips sweetly, then waggled the glass under his nose. “We wouldn't want anything to spoil this party for your daddy now, would we? If you were to get caught with one of these, there could be trouble.”

“I won't get caught.”

“Don't think you're so smart, Zach. I saw you swilling champagne, and I don't think I'm the only one who was looking in your direction. Anyone else could have seen you, including Jack Logan. You remember—he's with the police department. I think you two have met before.”

Zach's teeth clamped together. Hot embarrassment climbed up the back of his neck. “As I said, I won't get caught.”

“You'd better not, because, if you land your cute little butt in jail or end up in the juvenile hall again, Witt won't bail you out. So”—she smiled sweetly—“use your head.”

As she sauntered away, mingling with one group of guests after another, Zachary seethed. His blood boiled through his veins and he fantasized about wrapping his fingers around her neck and shaking some sense into her, but he couldn't take his eyes off her ass and the way it shifted beneath the shimmering black silk of her dress. She moved slowly, as if each step were a deliberately sensual movement designed to make him squirm. The rose petals were crushed beneath her heels. Her smooth back, visible to the curve of her lower spine, was unblemished and supple, and he imagined it would arch perfectly beneath the right man.

He felt an erection beginning, and turned away from her image. Half the time he thought she put on a sexual show for him intentionally. Other times he told himself that it was his imagination, that he was finding sexual overtures in the most innocent of gestures.

To cool his blood he placed his head against the window. Steam fogged the inside of the glass. The room was so hot he felt that he was suffocating and his blood still pounded at his temples. At seventeen he was still a virgin, which wasn't a big deal, unless he had to spend any time alone with Kat, something he tried to avoid.

Stuffing one hand into his pocket to hide the swell in his pants, he walked to the nearest tray of filled glasses, grabbed one and downed it quickly, all the while staring at his stepmother. She didn't seem to see him. Buoyed by his newfound source of rebellion, he sauntered over to another unattended tray, snatched another glass, and downed the champagne in one gulp. A few drops drizzled along his chin but he didn't care.

The room began to get warmer still and he loosened his tie. A flush stole up his face and he felt a little light-headed. He was definitely getting a buzz. Well, good. He didn't want to be here anyway. Might as well enjoy himself.

Halfway through his next drink, he felt a smooth hand close over his arm. He jumped and champagne splashed down the front of his jacket and shirt. Kat's long fingers dug into the muscles beneath his sleeve. Her eyes were dark with rage, her full lips clenched in fury. “You just don't know when to give up, do you?”

He shook off her arm. “You can't tell me what to do.”

“No?” She arched an eyebrow in a sexy gesture that scared him spitless. “Mmm. We'll see.”

He finished his drink to spite her, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, her face changed into a soft smile and her eyes caught the reflection of the chandelier, sparkling up at him. With an innocent grin, she linked her fingers through his. “Dance with me, Zach.”

Zach, despite the friendly cobwebs in his mind, smelled trouble. “I…I don't dance.”

“Sure you do. It's easy.”

“But I can't—”

She leaned closer to him, put her lips against his ear. “People are staring. Come on.”

His throat was suddenly desert-dry. “Katherine, I really don't want to—” But she was right. He felt the burning weight of the gazes of curious onlookers. He wanted to die. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jason staring at him, his expression unreadable. Trisha was downing champagne and God-only-knew what else. She smiled drunkenly at Zach's discomfiture. Witt, his father, was still dancing with little London and too busy to notice that Zach was trapped.

“Really, Katherine. I don't want to—”

“Oh, you want, Zach,” she said, leaning to him, pressing her hip against his groin. “I can tell. And I'll let your father know if you don't give me just one little dance.”

Guiltily, Zach glanced at Witt but the old man seemed oblivious to the fact that his son, the one who always gave him so much trouble, was being led to the dance floor like a lamb to slaughter. He couldn't imagine dancing with Katherine, feeling her body pressed close to his. His blood was already roaring through his system. As they reached the dance floor, she turned, molding her torso to his, beginning to sway in rhythm to the music.

Her hips were pressed intimately to his and her breasts seemed crushed against his chest. “Now, isn't this better?” she murmured in a husky drawl and he closed his eyes, fighting the lust that burned through his body, feeling his stiffening erection even as he tried to deny it.

“Let me go,” he begged.

“You don't want to go.” She shifted slightly so that her lower abdomen was hugging his. God, she had to know that he was hard. “I can tell.”

“Don't—”

Holy Christ, his right hand was on her bare back, feeling the silky texture of her skin, the sleek movement of her muscles. Was it his imagination or did she make some low sort of wanting sound deep in her throat?

“You lied,” she whispered, her breath ruffling the hair covering the tops of his ears.

He was dying inside. So hard he ached, he couldn't think straight. A part of him warned him to back off, but the other part puffed up by male ego, champagne, and sexual desire, couldn't stop fantasizing. He wondered what she would do if he rubbed up against her, let his hand slip beneath the black fabric of her dress. What would happen if he slowly let his mouth and tongue wander down the delicate column of her throat?

As if she understood his need, she lolled her head to one side, exposing more of her white skin, showing off just a little more of her gorgeous bosom.

“Mind if I cut in?” Witt's voice seemed to reverberate through the ballroom and Zachary started, dropping his hands guiltily. He tried to put some distance between his body and Kat's but she held him close.

Turning slumberous eyes toward her husband, her lips twisted into a wicked grin, she whispered, “Thought you'd never ask.”

Witt's face was flushed. His eyes thinned on his rebellious son as Zachary took a step back and London, who was still clinging to her father, was plopped into Zach's empty arms. “Stay away from the champagne,” Witt said. “It would be a hell of an embarrassment if Jack had to arrest you here. Now, give London a spin on the floor and ask one of the Kramer girls to dance—they've been watching you all night.”

Gulping, Zachary wished he could knock the old man's lights out. When he glanced at Kat she was laughing, her eyes twinkling with naughty amusement. At his expense. His fingers clenched into fists and if it wasn't for the fact that he was holding London, he might have made an already ugly situation worse. It was as if his father and stepmother had conspired together to make him look a fool.

His shoulders tensed and heat surged up the back of his neck to spread through his face. Though several girls in expensive dresses were trying to capture his attention, Zach didn't even give them the time of day. He handed London to her nanny, and wished he could hit something…anything.

Ripping his tie from his neck, he wanted nothing more than to leave the goddamned hotel and cool off. Spoiling for a fight, he left the dance floor. How could he have been such a fool? How? Because of Kat. Damn the woman! His fists curled in angry impotence. He had to get out of here.

Jason, drink in hand, found Zach insolently leaning a shoulder against one of the pillars near the door as he plotted his escape. “Don't let her get to you,” Jason advised.

“Who?”

“Kat.” Sipping his drink—bourbon straight up—Jason smiled.

“What do you mean?” Zach asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jason snorted and cocked his head toward the dance floor. “I saw that little exhibition.”

Mortified, Zach gritted his teeth.

“Christ, she can be a bitch.” Jason raked an impatient hand through his thick, chestnut-colored hair. “I know what she's up to, saw her coming on to you. She damned near laid down and spread her legs right in the middle of the dance floor.” He took a swallow of his drink and stared at Kat and Witt. “It's some sort of game with her.”

A muscle worked in Zach's jaw. He felt the angry tic and couldn't control it.

“She did it on purpose, you know. Decided you needed putting in your place, which, I might add, she did.”

“I hate her.”

“Don't we all?” Jason replied, his eyes following his stepmother as she danced. “But she might just be the most incredibly sexy woman on this planet. I wonder what she's like in bed.”

“I don't want to know.” Zachary scowled and refused to look at the object of their discussion.

“Sure you do. Every man here would like a little piece of the Kat.” He flung a brotherly arm over Zach's shoulders. “But she doesn't play her games with them. No way. For some reason she's picked you to toy with. If I didn't know better, I'd think she might have her sights set on you.”

“Oh, Jesus! No way!” Zach said, though his heart skipped a beat.

“I'm not so sure. She sure hasn't come on to me like she just did with you and I've seen her, when she thinks no one's watching. The way she looks at you. Christ, it's hot.”

“Stop it.”

“But you can't mess with her. If Dad ever found out—”

“Cut it out, Jason,” Zach said, suddenly anxious. First Kat and now his brother. “I'm not going to mess with her.”

Jason lifted a shoulder. “Everyone's always said you were different—I guess Kat just wants to find out if it's true.”

“God, Jason, listen to what you're saying! No, don't! It's sick.”

“You know what you need to do?”

Zach didn't answer.

“Go out and get laid.” Leaning closer to Zach, he pointed a finger at a swarm of teenaged girls, their makeup and hairstyles right out of
Seventeen
magazine. Compared to Katherine they seemed young and gawky and…desperate. “But not with Kat. Like I said, the old man would tan your hide if he found out. But Alicia Kramer is so hot for you she can barely stand it. I'll bet she's creaming all over herself just looking at you.”

“Stop it!” Zach hissed, but Jason laughed, obviously pleased that he'd gotten such a violent reaction.

“I'm telling you, sliding into her would be like sticking it into hot pudding.”

“For Christ's sake, cut it out!” Zach slid a glance in Alice's direction and caught her hopeful gaze. She was a petite girl with big boobs and a bad complexion she disguised with thick makeup. Her teeth were straight, compliments of the braces she'd worn for two years. She wasn't bad looking. She giggled and blushed when she caught Zach's eye. But Zach wasn't interested in the daughter of some big-shot banker. No way. Compared to Kat, Alicia seemed like a child.

“She's so horny she can barely keep her dress on. Look, I can tell you from my own experience that the Kramer girls are definitely hot-blooded. My guess is Alicia will give you a ride you'll remember for the rest of your life.”

“No thanks,” Zach replied.

“I'm telling you, little brother, it's time. I can hook you up with—”

“Forget it, Jason.”

Jason grabbed his arm. “Really, Zach. I know how you feel, like a powder keg ready to explode, and believe me, you can only take it so long.” His voice lowered a little. “There's a girl I know…well, a woman, really. She…well, she knows just what to do to make a man feel good. She's expecting me tonight.”

“A hooker? Are you talking about a hooker?” Zach demanded, shocked, yet a little intrigued. Did Jason really know a prostitute? Holy shit!

Jason took his arm and steered him to a quiet corner of the room, far away from the guests and the linen-clad tables of food and drink. “Now, just listen. This girl, Sophia, she's…well, believe me, you'll like her. She's a good person.”