September Morning
“That dress is a damned good start,” he observed.
She glanced down at it. “But it covers me up,” she protested. “It's a lot more modest than what Nan was wearing.”
“I noticed,” he said with a musing smile.
She peeked at him through her lashes. “Nan thinks you're the sexiest man alive,” she said lightly. “She knew you'd be at the party.”
His face hardened. “Nan's a child,” he growled, turning away with one hand rammed in his pocket. “And I'm too old to encourage hero worship.”
Nan was Kathryn's age, exactly. Her heart seemed to plummet, and she wanted to hit out at him. He always made her feel so gauche and ignorant.
She studied his broad back. He was so good to look at. So big and vibrant, and full of life. A quiet man, a caring man. And a tyrant!
“If you won't let me invite Larry here,” she murmured, “I suppose I could fly down to the coast and go to that writers’ convention with him.”
He turned, staring at her, hard and intimidating even at a distance. “Threatening me, Kate?” he asked.
“I wouldn't dare!” she replied fervently.
His dark face was as unreadable as a stone sculpture. “We'll talk about it again.”
She scowled at him. “Tyrant,” she grumbled.
“Is that your best shot?” he asked politely.
“Male chauvinist!” she said, trying again. “You do irritate me, Blake!”
He moved toward her lazily. “What do you think you do to me, little Kathryn?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
She looked up into his arrogant face as he came within striking distance. “I probably irritate you just as much,” she admitted, sighing. “Pax?”
He smiled down at her indulgently. “Pax. Come here.”
He tilted her chin up and bent his head down. She closed her eyes, expecting the familiar brief, rough touch of his mouth. But it didn't come.
Puzzled, she opened her eyes and looked straight into his at an unnerving distance. She was so close that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark brown irises, the tiny crinkled lines at the corner of his eyelids.
His fingers touched the side of her throat, warm and strangely caressing.
“Blake?” she whispered uncertainly.
His jaw tautened. She could see a muscle jerk beside his sensuous mouth.
“Welcome home, Kate,” he said roughly, and started to move away.
“Aren't you going to kiss me?” she asked without thinking.
All the expression drained out of his face to leave his eyes smoldering as they looked down into hers. “It's late,” he said abruptly, turning away, “and I'm tired. Good night, Kate.”
He walked out the door and left her standing there, staring at the empty doorway.
Chapter Three
Blake was strangely reserved for the next few days, and Kathryn found herself watching him for no reason at all. He was just Blake, she kept telling herself. Just her guardian, as familiar as the towering old house and its ring of live oaks. But something was different. Something…and she couldn't quite grasp what.
“Blake, are you angry with me?” she asked him one evening as he started upstairs to dress for a date.
He scowled down at her. “What makes you think that, Kathryn?” he asked.
She shrugged, and forced a smile for him. “You seem…remote.”
“I've got a lot on my mind, kitten,” he said quietly.
“The strike?” she guessed.
“That, and a few other assorted headaches,” he agreed. “If you're through asking inane questions, I am on my way out.”
“Sorry,” she said flippantly. “Heaven forbid that I should keep you from the wheat fields.”
“Wheat fields?”
“Where you sow your wild oats, of course,” she said with what felt like devastating sophistication as she turned to go back in the living room where Phillip and Maude were talking.
He chuckled softly. “Your slip's showing.”
She whirled, grasping her midi-length velveteen skirt and staring down at her shapely calf. “Where?”
He went on up the stairs with a low chuckle and she glared after him.
***
Later, she watched him come back downstairs, dressed in a pair of dark slacks with a white silk shirt open at the neck and a tweed jacket that gave him a rakish look. What woman was he taking out, she wondered, and would she know how to appreciate all that dark, vibrant masculinity? Just the sight of him was enough to make Kathryn's pulse race, and involuntarily she thought back to the night of her homecoming party and the strange look in Blake's eyes when he started to kiss her and didn't. That hesitation had puzzled her ever since, although she tried not to think about it too much. Blake would be frighteningly dangerous in any respect other than that of a cherished adopted brother.
***
Nan Barrington came over early the next morning to go riding with Kathryn. Petite and fragile-looking in her jodhpurs, she was wearing a blue sweater, very tight, that was the exact shade of her eyes.
She brushed by Kathryn with a tiny sigh, her eyes immediately on everything in sight as she searched the area for Blake.
“He's gone out,” Kathryn said with an amused smile.
Nan looked wildly disappointed. “Oh,” she said, her face falling. “I just thought he might be going with us.”
Kathryn didn't bother to mention that Blake was doing everything short of joining a monastery to avoid her. That would have led to questions she didn't want to face, much less answer.
“Well, there she is, the golden girl,” Phillip said from the staircase, gazing with exaggerated interest at the petite blonde. “You luscious creature, you.”
Nan laughed delightedly. “Oh, Phil, you're such a tease,” she said. “Come riding with us and let me prove that I can still beat the socks off you.”
He made a mock pose. “No girl exposes my naked ankles,” he scoffed. “You're on!”
Kathryn led them out the door, tugging her green velveteen blouse down over her trim hips as she went, delighting in its warmth in the chill morning air. “It's nippy out here,” she murmured. Her slender hand went up to test the strength of the pins that held the coiled rope of hair in place on top of her head. The wind was brisk, invigorating.
“Nice and cool,” Phillip agreed. “Strange how Blake's run out of time to ride,” he mentioned with a curious glance at Kathryn. “He's literally worked every minute he's been home. And with the Leedses arriving Saturday, he's going to be lucky if he can manage time to pick them up at the airport.”
“Fighting again?” Nan probed, shooting a glance at Kathryn.
Kathryn lifted her head and watched the path in front of her as they took the old shortcut to the big barn, with its white-fenced paddocks. The path led through a maze of high, clipped hedges, in the center of which was a white gazebo, carefully concealed, and ringed all the way around with comfortable cushions. Kathryn had always thought it a wildly romantic setting, and her imagination ran riot every time she saw it.
“Blake and I are getting along just fine,” she said, denying her friend's teasing accusation.
“Nothing easier,” Phillip agreed with a grin. “They never see each other.”
“We do,” Kathryn disagreed. “Remember the other night when Blake was going out on that date?”
Nan glanced up at Phillip. “Who's he after now?” She laughed.
Phillip shrugged fatalistically. “Who knows? I think it's the little blonde he's got in the office. His new secretary, if office gossip can be believed. But I hear she can't spell cat.”
“Blake likes blondes, all right.” Kathryn laughed with an amusement that she was far from feeling.
“Here's one he sure avoids,” Nan groaned. “What's wrong with me?”
Phillip threw an avuncular arm across her shoulders. “Your age, my dear,” he informed her. “Blake likes his women mature, sophisticated and thoroughly immoral. That leaves you out of the running.”
Nan sighed miserably. “I always have been.”
“Blake used to pick us up after cheerleading practice, remember,” Kathryn said, eyeing the gazebo longingly as they passed it. “He still thinks of us chewing bubble gum and giggling.”
“I hate bubble gum,” Nan pouted.
“So do I,” Phillip agreed. “It leaves a bad…well, hello,” he broke off, grinning at Blake.
The older man stopped in their path, dressed in a sophisticated gray business suit, with a spotless white silk shirt and a patterned tie. He looked every inch the business magnate, polished and dignified.
“Good morning,” Blake said coolly. He smiled at Nan. “How's your mother?”
“Just fine, Blake,” Nan sighed, going close to catch his arm in her slender fingers. “Don't you have time to go riding with us?”
“I wish I did, little one,” he told her. “But I'm already late for a conference.”
Kathryn turned away and started for the barn. “I'm going ahead,” she called over her shoulder. “Last one in the saddle's a greenhorn!”
She almost ran the rest of the way to the barn, shocked at her own behavior. She felt strange. Sick. Hurt. Empty. The sight of Nan clinging to Blake's arm had set off a rage within her. She'd wanted to slap her friend of many years, just for touching him. She didn't understand herself at all.
Absently, she went into the tackroom and started getting together bits and bridles and a saddle. She barely noticed when the lithe chestnut gelding was saddled and ready to mount. He pranced nervously, as if he sensed her uneasy mood and was reacting to it.
Nan joined her as she was leading Sundance out into the bright morning.
“Where's Phil?” Kathryn asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.
Nan shrugged curiously. “Blake dragged him off to the office for some kind of council of war. At least, that's what it sounded like.” She sighed. “Blake seemed very angry with him.” Her face brightened. “Almost as if he didn't like the idea of Phillip going riding with me. Kate, do you suppose he's jealous?” she asked excitedly.
“It wouldn't surprise me a bit,” Kathryn lied, remembering Blake's remarks about her friend. But, frowning, she couldn't help wondering if he'd meant it. Why in the world didn't he want Phillip to ride with the girls?
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