Temptation's Kiss (12 page)

“Sharp mind,” T.K. said. He got down on one knee and the other women in the room let out a collective sigh. “Patrice Catherine Sutton, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He looked up at her with a hopeful, almost painful expression.

T.K. had to remember to breathe. What if she was too surprised by the gesture and wasn't ready to say yes?

“Yes!” Patrice shouted.

“I think they heard that in Santa Fe,” Patrice's dad joked amid good-natured laughter.

T.K. rose and put the ring on Patrice's finger. It fit perfectly—another surprise. How had he known her ring size? She had noticed the gentleman in the black suit observing her a bit closely. At the time, she had thought he was kind of creepy. Now she supposed he was simply good at guessing a woman's ring size.

Patrice kissed her fiancé. She never imagined she could be this happy. Everyone got up and congratulated them with hugs and kisses. Cady hugged her daughter so tightly that Patrice feared for her ribs. Looking into her eyes, Cady said, “This is the one who owns your heart, then?”

“Yes, Momma,” Patrice said, tears in her eyes.

“I'm happy for you,” said Cady. “He's a good boy. Real strapping, too. You'll have strong children.” She eyed Patrice. “You're not…?”

Patrice laughed shortly. “No, Momma.”

Cady smiled. “I was hoping for three, but I shouldn't be greedy.” She threw her arms around her daughter's neck and hugged her again. “You can work on it on the honeymoon.”

Patrice continued to laugh as she received hugs from everyone else.

Finally, after things had settled down, the meal was
eaten and a sense of calm descended on the diners. There was plenty to be grateful for that day.

Outside, snow fell, and the luminarias, although in some of the paper bags the candles had gone out, continued to illuminate the cold night.

O
n Christmas morning, everyone gathered around the kitchen table for breakfast. Patrick and Nina had stayed over, as had Keira, who saw no point in going home since her husband wouldn't be there. Patrice had gotten up early to help her mother prepare a big breakfast of homemade biscuits, scrambled eggs, sausages, fresh fruit and coffee.

T.K. strode into the room looking well-rested and handsome in his Western wear. He smiled at those assembled there. He was the last to arrive. The ranch hands, Jim and Charlie, who both appeared to him to be Native American, were at the table. He supposed they didn't have family in the area with which to spend Christmas. The Suttons treated them like family.

“Good morning,” he said heartily. Everyone returned his greeting.

Patrice kissed him on the cheek. “Good morning,” she said softly. “Sleep well?”

“Not without you,” he whispered and took great delight in seeing her blush.

After everyone was seated, Cady said the blessing. “Dear Lord, thank you for another beautiful day, and yesterday wasn't bad, either. Amen.”

“She's more succinct than your dad,” said T.K. to Patrice.

Patrice smiled. She was glad he liked her parents. “She's a woman of few words but plenty of action, like her eldest daughter.”

She blushed again when she realized what she had sounded like. Or perhaps her mind was hearing sexual innuendos where there were none because she wanted T.K. so badly. Now that she had made love to him, she knew exactly what he felt like, and she missed that closeness. After three days without him, the deprivation was beginning to affect her.

T.K. didn't appear to associate the word
action
with anything sexual, though. She smiled at him again and began eating. His gaze went to her naked ring finger. “Where's your ring?”

“In my room,” she said. “You don't think I'm going to wear it while kneading biscuit dough?”

“I bought it for you to wear during everyday activities,”
T.K. said casually. “It's just a ring, babe. If it breaks I'll get you another one.”

Patrice gave him a steely-eyed glare. “It's not just a ring. It's the one you picked out for me, and I'm going to take care of it. Tell your alter ego that I want Trevor back.”

They were trying to keep their voices down, but it was apparent to the others at the table that an argument was brewing.

“Have you two thought about a wedding date yet?” Nina interrupted them, hoping to dispel the bad vibes. “I've always thought spring was the perfect time for a wedding.”

“Oh, yes, it'll be beautiful here in Albuquerque in the spring,” Cady said. “You
are
going to have it in our church, aren't you?”

T.K. was grateful for the interruption. He didn't know why Patrice had gotten testy with him when he had mentioned buying another ring if something happened to the five-carat solitaire. He thought he was being magnanimous. He knew she had admitted she was frugal, but he was one of the richest men in the country. What did the cost of an engagement ring matter to him?

Patrice ignored the overtures to ease the tension between her and T.K. She had to make him understand once and for all that material possessions weren't to be tossed about like confetti. Yeah, he was stinking rich, but that didn't mean he could be so nonchalant about a ring that he'd given her out of love. If something like
that was interchangeable to him, what about her? Was she interchangeable as well?

“May I see you in private?” she asked as she rose.

T.K. immediately got up. “Lead the way.”

When they left the kitchen, Nina turned to Patrick, distressed. “Why did he have to say that about the ring? Women are sentimental about their engagement rings. You can't just chalk it up as a loss and buy another one if something happens to it. It's special.”

Patrick glanced at the one-carat diamond on his wife's finger. It had been all he could afford. He took her hand in his. He had almost been ashamed to present her with it when he had proposed. “You like your ring?” he asked softly.

Nina kissed his face enthusiastically. “I love it!” she said.

Patrick smiled at her. He adored her.

In her bedroom, Patrice closed the door after she and T.K. were inside. Turning to face him, she said, “You may think I'm being unreasonable because I got angry when you suggested replacing my ring if I should lose it or damage it, but this is important to me, Trevor. Money can't fix everything. What was touching and special last night when you proposed you made commonplace and trivial when you suggested I treat the ring like an everyday bauble. Come on, that's my engagement ring. You chose it. It'll always be special to me.”

“Honestly, I was only joking,” T.K. tried to ex plain.

Patrice eyed him skeptically. “And maybe showing off a little in front of the soon-to-be-in-laws?”

T.K. thought about it and laughed suddenly. Maybe he had been bragging a bit. It was hard being T. K. McKenna without being perhaps a touch arrogant. “So what if I want your family to know that I can take care of you?”

“Believe me, baby, they're not impressed with a big Hollywood hotshot. They're more impressed with the guy who would go with them to move the cows to the south pasture. They don't want their daughter and sister to marry some guy with plenty of money who isn't going to cherish her. They think of Hollywood people with horror when they hear of all the divorces and infidelity out there.”

“Divorces and infidelity happen everywhere,” T.K. reminded her.

“Yes, but Hollywood has theirs broadcast all over the media,” Patrice said with a tired sigh.

T.K. looked deeply into her eyes and heaved a sigh. “I looked like a fool.”

“No, you didn't. You were just being an alpha male who takes care of his woman. Every male in that kitchen is an alpha male. They understand you.” She walked into his open arms. “But we women have to tame you, sometimes gentle you down a bit.”

“Make us putty in your hands,” said T.K. as his mouth descended on hers.

It had been a while since they'd kissed like this. They were both hungry for it, and because of that, the
kiss aroused them that much more. Patrice melted into his embrace, her body molded to his. She could not get close enough. Their tongues took pleasure from being reunited. It was so sweet that they stood there and kissed for several minutes and didn't at first hear the knocking on the door.

Patrice hadn't locked the door. She'd just shut it. She rarely locked doors in her parents' house. “Coming in,” called Cady.

They flew apart, guilty expressions on their faces. Patrice was glad she hadn't put on lipstick this morning because if she had it would be smeared all over T.K.'s mouth.

“Are you two all right?” Cady asked. “We were worried about you. Don't want you calling off the wedding before we've even planned it.”

Patrice and T.K. stood there with their arms around each other's waists, presenting a lovely picture of togetherness. “We're over it,” Patrice said of their argument. “No worries.”

“Okay, I'll leave you alone, then,” said Cady, smiling. “Breakfast's getting cold.”

When she'd gone, they looked at one another and laughed. “Good thing she showed up,” T.K. joked. “We would have been naked in a couple minutes.”

Patrice knew he was right. Her body was still tingling with pleasure.

T.K. bent his head to kiss her again, and she ducked underneath his arm and headed for the door. “No, no,
let's eat breakfast and make up some excuse about seeing the city. Then we can get a hotel room.” Her gaze was serious. “I won't be able to cope if I don't make love to you soon.”

T.K. liked the sound of that. He followed her back to the kitchen.

“Did she take you to the woodshed?” asked Patrick Sr. as soon as they sat down.

T.K. nodded and smiled at Patrice. “She really let me have it,” he said.

Patrice kicked him underneath the table.

 

Later, when Patrice was helping her mother with the dishes, Cady, who was washing while Patrice dried, cleared her throat. “My, oh, my, the way that man looks at you reminds me of the way your daddy used to look at me when we first met, like I was something good to eat and he was starving to death!”

Patrice looked at her mother with a shocked expression, but her eyes were lit with humor. “Momma, you know we kids don't like to think of you and Daddy having a sex life. We were immaculate conceptions—all of us.”

Cady laughed. “You're a fine actress, darling, but not that good. You take delight in the fact that your father and I still love each other. That gives you and T.K. hope. It tells you that marriages can last even in the twenty-first century. As for passion, I say grab all of it while you can. There's a reason God made us passionate. It was to keep
the family going. Family is important. Sometimes, it's the only thing that's important. Jobs come and go. There are fair-weather friends. But when a man and a woman come together in marriage and have children together, if they really love each other, now that's worth getting up for every morning.”

Patrice had finished drying the dishes, and she now began putting them away in the cabinets above the sink. She regarded her mother. “Was there any time you thought you had made a mistake by marrying Daddy?” she asked. “I know you come from a well-to-do family in Charleston. I remember our girl cousins being so prim and proper and how much they looked down their noses at us. I never told you, but I was not happy going down South. They never made me feel welcome. I wondered where all that Southern hospitality they talked about was.”

Her mother laughed shortly. “I never fit in, either. My parents were both born into well-to-do families in Charleston. Theirs was a match made to unite two rich families. I don't believe they were ever happy together. It's sad, really. When I was growing up, I always told myself that I would not marry for anything except love—not only love but a
passionate
love. Your grandparents, God rest their souls, never expressed passion for anything. It was such a white-bread world. When I came to Albuquerque with some friends from college, I experienced something magical. Here was a land of spices. People here were of different nationalities behaving as if they didn't care
about their differences. What they cared about was a sense of community and their families. Then when I met your father, who was trying to make a go of the ranch on his own, I saw a man of strength and character. He wasn't bad-looking either. We fell in love almost instantly. I mean this sincerely, my love. The first time we looked at each other, we knew that there was something powerful between us. I tried to fight it because I was this little Southern girl who'd been brought up by strict parents. I'd never gone out on a date until I was eighteen. At twenty-one, though, and fresh out of college, I exulted in my independence. I told my friends they would have to go back to Charleston without me. I was staying and marrying your father.”

“That didn't sit well with your parents, I imagine,” Patrice said.

Her mother chuckled. “They actually came after me, but by the time they got here, your father and I had gotten married at the courthouse and had consummated the marriage several times to my utter satisfaction. I've never regretted marrying your father and staying in New Mexico.”

Patrice guffawed. “All right, now!”

“Three months after we were married I found out I was pregnant with you,” Cady said wistfully.

“You two worked fast,” Patrice said, still laughing.

“That's why I made the honeymoon comment last night after you got engaged. We are very fertile women.
It doesn't take too many tries to make a baby in this family.”

That was food for thought for Patrice. Maybe condoms weren't a good enough form of birth control for her and T.K. Work-wise she was booked well into the next year. She shouldn't get pregnant for the next two years. However, if all precautions were a total bust and she turned up pregnant anyway, there was no doubt she would have the baby.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Patrice said of the women in her family being very fertile.

Cady gave her a smile and a quick hug. “So, what are you and T.K. doing on your last day in town?”

“I thought I'd take him to a few of my favorite places, if you can spare me in the kitchen for a few hours,” Patrice told her.

“I'll put Keira and Nina to work,” her mother said. “They've been allowing you to help me in the kitchen since they know you love to cook. You and T.K. have fun.”

Half an hour later, Patrice and T.K. were in his SUV with her at the wheel. T.K. sat in the passenger seat with his sunglasses on, smiling. “Where're we going?”

“We're going to Old Town,” Patrice said as she drove. It was an overcast day, looked like snow again in the afternoon. She breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't as cold here as it had been in Wyoming.

“Are we going sightseeing today?” T.K. asked, watching her profile. He knew where they would
eventually end up, but perhaps Patrice wanted to go someplace else so that when they returned to the ranch she could say they'd been seeing the town and not have to totally lie about that whereabouts.

“No, we're going to Hotel Albuquerque at Old Town,” Patrice told him. “It's in the middle of the historic Old Town Plaza and museum district, an area that's been there over 400 years.”

“You seem a little nervous,” T.K. observed.

“I wish we had left a bag in the car when we arrived, but we didn't. I had a hard time sneaking an overnight bag and a garment bag into the car. There's always somebody around the house.”

T.K. laughed. “Why would you sneak a bag out of the house? We aren't going to spend the night.”

“You don't check into a luxury hotel without bags,” Patrice said, perfectly serious. “They don't rent rooms by the hour.”