LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

the city. “Cities seem pretty impersonal, and then something like this happens. It makes me feel better about urban areas,” she said with a smile. “I like Chicago.”

      He glanced at her curiously, but he didn’t say anything.

      Her eyes sought his dark face, noticing how handsome he looked as the colorful city lights played over his features. “You’ve never asked me out before. In fact,” she said softly, “I used to think that you hated me.”

      He pulled the car into a vacant space in front of a plush downtown restaurant, cut the engine and turned to look at her, his dark eyes steady and faintly glimmering. “Hate and desire are different sides of the same coin,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t very well seduce my niece’s best friend.”

      Her heart went wild. “I…didn’t realize,” she faltered.

      “I made damned sure you didn’t realize,” he said softly, watching her intently. “I’ve tried to protect Margo. That’s why I never brought women home. You were a tough proposition, anyway—the first woman I ever wanted who was completely off-limits.”

      He said wanted, not loved. She had to remember to make the distinction as Tom had warned. Careful, girl, she told herself, don’t let him get under your skin.

      The trouble was, he was already there, very deep. She loved him too much.

      “But now Margo’s married,” he said softly, reaching out to stroke a long strand of black hair in a way that made her body ache. “And I don’t have to hide it anymore. You’re almost twenty-five. You’re a responsible, independent woman and you live in the city. I don’t have to handle you with kid gloves, do I, Kate?”

      She didn’t mind how he handled her. That was the whole problem. Part of her wanted to clear up his misconceptions, to tell him about her childhood, about her very strict upbringing. But another part of her was afraid that if she told him the truth he’d hightail it back to South Dakota and never come near her again. And so she bit her tongue to keep from denying what he’d said.

      He finished his cigarette leisurely, leaning forward to stub it out. The movement brought him so close to Kate that she could see the thickness of his black eyelashes, the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. She could smell the expensive cologne he wore and the fainter tang of the soap and shampoo he used.

      He turned before he leaned back, catching her eyes. It was the closest she’d ever been to him. Her heart felt as if it were going to burst when he put one lean hand at her cheek and began to slowly, sensuously rub his thumb over her soft lips.

      “You don’t wear layers of makeup,” he said softly. “I like that. And you dress like a lady.” His gaze went down to the laces of her bodice, lingering there before moving up again to meet her eyes. “Are you wearing anything under that witchy dress?”

      It was too intimate a question. She averted her face, trying not to look like the gauche innocent she was. “Why don’t you feed me?”

      He laughed softly. “All right. We’ll do it your way.”

      Do what? She didn’t even ask; it was safer not to know the answer.

      The restaurant was crowded, but they had a nice table on the upper level of an interior that featured exquisite crystal chandeliers and an atmosphere of affluence that made Kate feel frumpy even in the expensive dress she was wearing. She’d had to save money for weeks to afford it; most of the other women who were sitting around this restaurant looked as if they could lay down cash for a Mercedes.

      “Don’t look so intimidated,” Jacob mused as they were seated. “They’re just people.”

      She laughed nervously. “If you knew how I grew up…” she began.

      “I do. I’ve seen your grandmother Walker’s house,” he replied easily. “It was an old Victorian, but still elegant in its way.”

      “I grew up,” she repeated, “in Nebraska. On a farm. My father was—” she almost said “a lay minister,” but she changed it to “—poor. My mother left when Tom and I were just babies. Dad kept us until his death.” Of a brain tumor, she could have added, one that made him crazy. She shuddered a little at the painful memories. After all these years, she still had a very real fear of male domination. She could hear her father shouting, feel the whip of the belt across her bare legs whenever she triggered his explosive, unpredictable temper.

      “I grew up rich,” Jacob replied. “We inherited money from my great-grandfather. He made a fortune back in the late 1880s, when a blizzard drove out half the cattlemen in the West. The old devil had a knack for predicting bad weather. He managed to get his cattle east before that devastating snowfall. He made a fortune.”

      “Money seems to bring its own responsibilities,” she remarked, studying his hard, lined face and cool, dark eyes. “You never seem to have any time to yourself.”

      A corner of his mouth tugged up. “Don’t I?”

      She looked down at the white linen tablecloth. Piped music was playing around them, very romantic, while white-coated waiters tended to the crowded tables. “Not during the day, at least,” she said, qualifying her words. “When Margo and I were girls, you were always being hounded by somebody.”

      He was watching her, his gaze purely possessive. “It goes with any kind of business, Kate. I’d hate a life of leisure.”

      He probably would. He didn’t keep his body that fit and muscular by sitting behind a desk.

      “I guess I would, too,” she mused. Her slender fingers touched the heavy silver knife of her place setting. “Sometimes my job gets unpleasant, but there are compensations.”

      “I suppose there would be. You work with a lot of men, don’t you?” he asked.

      There was an unflattering double meaning in his words. She looked directly into his searching eyes, trying not to be affected by the increase in her pulse from his magnetism. “Yes,” she said. “I work with a lot of men. Not just at the office, but in politics, rescue work, police work—and in all those places, I’m just one of the boys.”

      His gaze dropped to her bodice. “So I see.”

      “I don’t work in suggestive clothing,” she fired back. “I don’t make eyes at married men, and if you’re going to start making veiled remarks about what you saw in the bathhouse six years ago, I’m leaving this minute!”

      “Sit down.”

      His tone was like ice, his eyes frankly intimidating. The cold note in his voice made her feel sick inside. She sat down, shaking a little with reaction.

      “I know what it looked like to you,” she said half under her breath, coloring as she realized the interest she’d raised in other diners, who glanced at the dark man and the pretty woman obviously having a lover’s quarrel. “But it wasn’t what you thought.”

      “What I saw was obvious,” he returned. “Gerald was damned lucky. If it had been my niece, even if she’d invited it, I’d have broken him like a toothpick.”

      That was in character. He fought like a tiger for his own. But not for Kate. He thought that she was little more than a tramp and that she didn’t need any protection. It surprised Kate sometimes that he was so willing to believe the worst about her, when everything pointed to the contrary. He’d known her for years and he’d been so kind to her. And then, in one afternoon, he’d done an about-face in his attitude toward her. She’d never understood why.

      “Lucky Margo, having you to spoil her,” she said, with a wealth of pain in the words. She stared at her lap. “Tom and I never had that problem.”

      “Your grandmother wasn’t poor,” he argued.

      She clenched her teeth. “I didn’t mean money.” It was love she and Tom had lacked. Grandmother Walker, not a demonstrative person, had never made any concessions in her way of life for them.

Скачать книгу