Friday's Child (11 page)

“I never asked…” Kate started.

“I know. I wanted to tell you. Because I think you're afraid.” He came to a stop in front of her, in time to meet her startled gaze. “I went through a period after my divorce when I…dated…a lot of women. Not anymore, though. I'm not interested in a casual relationship.” He watched her carefully. “I don't think you are, either.”

Panic and wariness flickered in her eyes. “We're too different.”

“Trask once told me that it's not where people come from that matters, it's where they're going.” His face moved closer
to hers and his next words were whispered against her mouth. “Wherever you're going, I think I'd like to come along.” He gave in to the temptation and pressed his lips, ever so lightly, against hers. His tongue traced their delicate inner lining.

It took several seconds for her to formulate a response once he'd lifted his mouth. “It wouldn't work.”

“Why not? You like Chloe.”

“Yes.” The word was breathed against his lips, because he wasn't moving away. He dropped a little kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“And you like me.”

“I…yes…”

She was rewarded with another tiny kiss for her answer. “You think I'm cute.”

It took a moment for his outrageous statement to register, and then her head jerked back and her dark brows arched upward. “And how did you reach that conclusion?”

He gave her a slow, satisfied smile. “I figured it out the other night when you bit my bottom lip and ran your fingers through my hair.”

This time when she stepped away, he let her go and watched, amused, as she paced the room.

“Apparently I wasn't clear enough then about what I want. Or don't want.”

Because his hands itched to touch her again, he jammed them in his pockets to keep them out of trouble. “Oh, I thought you were pretty clear.” He watched her movements, made swift and sharp from the nerves edging to the surface.

“Without going into the excruciating details, I'll just tell you that I have a long-standing aversion to men who are used to manipulating others. Men who use what power they have to bend others to their will.”

“Is that what I'm doing?” he asked, his interest piqued.

Though the glance she sliced at him was laced with uncertainty, she didn't pause in her pacing. “I've always known what I want. Where I'm going. And I'm sorry, but the journey doesn't involve you.”

“You're sure about that?” He really was curious. He knew
she was stubborn but hadn't realized she could be this single-minded.

“Yes.” The word was firm, but her gaze wasn't meeting his. Because he needed to, he took that as a positive sign.

“Well, it sounds like you've thought this out.” He strolled casually near her and watched her muscles jump with the instinct to move away. He knew her pride wouldn't let her.

“Yes.” The word was hoarse, and she cleared her voice nervously. “I have.”

He reached out one long finger and pushed a curly strand of hair back over her shoulder. “Okay.”

Her gaze bounced to his, and for a moment she seemed speechless. “Okay?”

He gave a slow nod.

Her eyes searched his for a long moment. “Well…fine.”

“Fine.”

She seemed to be having trouble with her voice again. This time, it sounded strangled. “That's it, then.” She looked to either side and took a deep breath. He watched, enjoying the moment. He had a feeling that Kate Rose didn't fluster easily.

“You'll let me know when Chloe's appointment is set?”

“I will do that,” he said gravely.

“Well. Goodbye, then, Michael.” Her hand shot out, a proper little gesture of dismissal.

He eyed it amusedly before taking it in his and caressing her soft palm with his thumb. “Goodbye, Kate.”

She jerked her hand free and turned, almost fleeing from the room.

He watched her go, humor still twitching at his lips. If ever there had been a time to engage retreat strategy, this had been it. He knew from experience that showing too much interest in a rival company would tip his hand before he played it. Keeping a low profile went a long way toward soothing fears. He didn't see why the same wouldn't be true in a relationship.

He turned to go back to his computer, whistling softly between his teeth. But once seated there, he couldn't stop thinking of Kate. The range of emotions he'd seen from her today captivated him, enthralled him. Remembering the way she'd
explained her lack of interest in him had a wide grin splitting his face. God, she was sweet.

And she was going to be his.

 

“I believe we could have a problem, Michael.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael muttered. Then it occurred to him that Trask probably wasn't referring to the problem Michael had had concentrating since he'd last seen Kate three days ago. He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned away from the computer to meet Trask's troubled gaze.

“What's up?”

“Word has it that none of your competitors were happy about losing the NASA contract, especially not to you.”

Michael shrugged impatiently. “No one likes to lose.”

The other man didn't change expression, just looked at him steadily. Michael stared back, then sighed. “All right, Trask, out with it.”

“I've been hearing talk.”

Michael didn't inquire into the man's sources. He had uncanny business instincts and he was always accurate. He was the one person in the world whose opinion Michael valued without reservation.

“What kind of talk?”

“Like what happens if you don't make the deadline on FORAY. Who'd be the forerunner in your place.”

Michael shrugged again. “Sounds like the kind of talk that always accompanies a project this big, Trask. Rumors. You know how the business is.”

“I do know it,” the other man said, his gaze steady.

“Might be a little more security around here wouldn't hurt.”

Rubbing his jaw, Michael pondered Trask's suggestion. “The place is like Fort Knox already, thanks to the system you helped me install.”

“Still,” the older man persisted, “you can't be too careful.” He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling. “Especially with the little tyke around most of the time.”

Shock held Michael still for a moment. He'd accepted the level of competition surrounding his field, actually relished it.
Success was always sweeter when it was hard-won. He'd never shied away from a calculated risk in his career, but there was no way in hell he'd take any kind of chance with Chloe's safety.

A tight, cold fist of dread squeezed his heart. He didn't question whether Trask was overreacting—or his own response. If there was even a fraction of a chance that his daughter could be affected, there really was no decision to be made at all.

“It wouldn't take much to figure that I would work on FORAY from the house,” he said slowly. Trask waited patiently. Michael lifted his gaze to meet the other man's. “Hire some men,” he ordered flatly. Trask nodded, relief flickering across his normally implacable exterior, and exited the room.

 

When Kate's phone rang at eleven-thirty that evening she woke, instantly alarmed. All her friends knew she retired early during the week, but her married brothers had phones. Bracing herself for bad news, she fumbled for the switch on the lamp beside the bed and picked up the receiver.

“Kate.”

The voice was low and husky and filled with unmistakable weariness. But it was instantly identifiable. “Michael?”

“I must have wakened you. I'm sorry about that. How long have you been sleeping?”

“About an hour, I guess.” She stopped, mentally trying to arrange her thoughts. She hadn't heard from him since they'd decided to go their separate ways. At least she'd decided. And he'd given in with an alacrity that still rankled. It had been humbling to find that she was simultaneously capable of cool logic and wounded pride. She'd decided that reason and emotion didn't always coexist peacefully. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to ask you to do a favor for me.”

Caution reared. “What kind of favor?”

“You said once that you led the children out at dismissal time.”

She pushed her heavy hair off her shoulder, nonplussed. “Yes, at three o'clock I take them out and make sure they get on the bus or catch their ride home.”

“Trask says things get a little hectic out there.”

“When you have two hundred and fifty students anxious to get home, things do get exciting at times,” Kate allowed.

“But dismissal is well supervised by the teachers.”

“I'd like to have Trask come into the building to pick Chloe up. He could come to your room at two fifty-five and get her before the rest of the students leave the building.”

“I'm sure that would be okay,” Kate said. “But I'd like to know why.”

She could hear him release a breath, and a sudden picture of him leaning back in his chair, propping his long legs up on the desk, flashed into her mind.

“I'm just being overly careful,” he finally replied. “The competition for this NASA contract was fierce. I'm probably paranoid, but I never take chances with someone I love.”

In the pause that stretched between them, Kate came wide-awake. She pushed her pillow into position behind her and leaned against her headboard. “You think Chloe might be in danger?”

“I don't think anything,” he soothed. “I'm paranoid, remember. I'm just being extra careful.”

“My students always have the option to stay inside the classroom with me at recesses. Would you like me to keep Chloe in?”

“Yeah, if you can arrange it. I'll talk to the Clo-worm about it. Maybe if she could draw or something, she wouldn't mind it so much.”

“I'll set up a paint station,” Kate promised. “There's nothing Chloe would rather do at school.”

“Thank you.” His voice was lower. “I appreciate your help. And I'll talk to the principal tomorrow and arrange the dismissal procedure with her.”

There was a long silence then, which seemed to get more intimate by the moment. Finally Michael spoke. “It's good to hear your voice, Kate.”

She drew in a deep breath, released it slowly. “It's…thank you.”

“How many days left of school? Two?”

“Yes.”

“I'll be in touch.”

She clutched the receiver several moments after he'd hung up, puzzling over his last words. He must have been referring to the appointment for Chloe. Irritated with the disappointment she felt at that conclusion, she replaced the receiver with a clatter. She should feel satisfied that he had respected her decision and dropped his pursuit of her. But she wouldn't be human if her pride wasn't deflated by how easily he'd managed to do just that. It was galling to realize she was capable of such diverse reactions to a man. Irritating to recognize that she could respond to him on two very different levels.

And it was incredibly annoying to admit, even to herself, that it had been good to hear his voice, too.

“H
ow come those men have to be here all the time, Daddy?”

Michael stifled a sigh at what was surely the tenth time Chloe had repeated that particular question. “I told you, bug, the men are here to help Trask.”

Chloe crawled up to perch on the edge of her father's desk, secure in the knowledge that her presence in the den was completely welcome. “Trask doesn't need any help,” she explained earnestly. “Alls he does is watch me and I'm not much work.”

One corner of Michael's mouth kicked up. “You're more work than you could ever know, squirt.” With one arm he swept her off the desk and into his lap, making her shriek with laughter.

When her giggles had subsided, she continued, “I'm not even here when I'm at school. Do the men go home then?”

“They do other work for Trask,” he answered vaguely.

“He has lots to keep them busy. This is a big place, you know.”

Her brow wrinkled, Chloe surveyed him for a moment.
“But Hank takes care of the horses, and Mrs. Martin cleans the house, and Mr. Martin mows and does the flowers. Are the men gonna help Mr. Martin mow?”

“Maybe,” he answered, feeling hunted in the face of his daughter's persistence. “But mostly they'll do other stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

This time Michael did groan. “And I'm supposed to believe you have a short attention span?” he mumbled.

“What's a span?” she wanted to know.

“Never mind. Listen,” he said, searching for an answer that wouldn't alarm her. “The men are here to be sure that…things don't get lost.”

Chloe surveyed her father gravely. “We don't have lots of things, Daddy.”

“Right. But we're fixing up the place, aren't we? Your room looks so great I decided it's time to start getting furniture and stuff in the rest of the house. So when you're out of school, we're going to start shaping this place up.”

“Who's going to help?” she asked dubiously.

“What makes you think I need help? All right, all right,” he hastened to add at the comical look she aimed at him, “maybe I could use a little.”

“Ask Miss Rose!” shouted Chloe. She bounced up and down excitedly. “I bet she would help if you asked her.”

“Think so?”

Her head bobbed enthusiastically. “And then I could see her this summer! And that would be good, 'cuz I'm gonna miss her when she's not my teacher anymore.”

“Tell you what,” he said confidingly, “I'll think of a plan so you can see Miss Rose this summer, but it's going to have to be a sa-prise, okay?”

Chloe's eyes widened in delight, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“And you know about sa-prises, right?” he continued.

“They have to be a secret. So you let me be the one to talk to Miss Rose about this, okay? And you have to pipe down and keep it a sa-prise.”

“Can't I even tell Rosy?” she wanted to know.

Michael pretended to consider her words. “Does she know how to keep a secret?”

His daughter rolled her eyes. “Da-a-d.”

He rested his forehead against hers, staring into the hazel gaze that was so like his own. “I don't want to find out that your blabbermouth pony spread our secret all over the stables.”

Chloe giggled. “She won't. Can I tell Trask?”

“Leave Trask to me,” Michael said after a moment. “I'd like to tell him myself.”

Chloe threw her arms around his neck exuberantly and squeezed. A second later she was wriggling off his lap and on her way to the stables, presumably to tell Rosy the news.

Michael leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. He'd successfully managed to distract Chloe, but she'd ask about the men again. And by then he'd better have an answer prepared. He didn't want to alarm her with explanations of security and increased vigilance. He knew better than most how quickly a child grew up when faced with worries beyond his years. His daughter's childhood wasn't going to be like his, he vowed. He and Deanna might be divorced, but Chloe's life was going to remain just as safe and secure as he could manage. It was his habit to be carefully prepared. And it was his nature to protect those he loved.

 

Kate sighed and relaxed on the couch in uncustomary indolence. After saying emotional goodbyes to twenty-four first-graders and working late to finish closing her classroom for the summer, she was too exhausted to move. Her stomach was requesting food but she couldn't summon the energy to make anything to eat. She opened one eye lazily and looked at the phone. Pizza delivery was a definite possibility, but it would have to wait. Even the effort it would take to cross the room to the phone was beyond her at the moment.

She must have dozed for a while, because a sudden racket had her jerking upright so suddenly she nearly tumbled off the couch. It took her a moment to discern the source of the noise, and then she scowled at the direction of the door.
Crossing the room, she unlocked the door and threw it open, glaring at the offending visitor.

Michael grinned engagingly. “I would have called first…”

Her heart kicked a faster beat at the sight of him. He looked so good. The casual T-shirt emphasized his broad chest and shoulders, and what the man did for jeans should send stock skyrocketing all over Wall Street. “But…” she prompted him when he didn't go on.

He shrugged. “But I didn't. Figured you'd be hungry. Have you eaten yet?”

Suspicion at his unexpected arrival was tempered by greed. Kate eyed the sacks in his hands with interest. “You have food?”

“Chinese. Are you going to let me in? Please?”

Quickly she stepped aside and he walked in. “You said the magic word.”

“Please?”

“Chinese.”

They ended up eating in the tiny living room, cartons spread out on the coffee table in front of them. They were seated on the floor, backs propped against the couch. Despite the chummy atmosphere, or maybe because of it, Kate made sure to keep a careful distance between them.

“Is Chloe excited to be out of school for the summer?” she asked between bites of spicy cashew chicken.

“Excited doesn't even come close. Although judging from her tears when I came and picked her up, she's going to miss you a lot, too.”

“Oh, she'll still see plenty of me.”

“That's what I said to her.”

Kate glanced at him uncertainly. “I mean, next year at school she'll still be in my unit. I'll see her frequently in the lunchroom and on the playground.”

Michael nodded. “I told her that.”

Kate went back to eating, feeling a little foolish. Of course he'd told her that. Why had she immediately assumed he was talking about seeing her on a more personal level? Because of a couple of phone calls they'd had? He must have been
making time for a great deal of reading, because after the first phone call about Chloe's dismissal time, he'd phoned twice more to question her about articles he'd read on Attention Deficit Disorder.

The calls had always come at night, right before she was asleep. As innocent as they'd been, it had become entirely too comfortable for her to sit propped up in bed with only the lamp on the bedside table turned on, talking to him. Their conversations had lent warmth to the early summer nights, a warmth she didn't care to admit to.

Her family had never had a phone when she was growing up; her parents still didn't own one. She'd never had the opportunity to go through a giggling teenage phase when she'd hung on the telephone, talking to girlfriends about everything and nothing. She'd never experienced that kind of connection before, and it was a little frightening that the first time she had it was with this man.

“I have to ask you a favor,” Michael said. He leaned back, his long legs stretched out under the table in front of him. His shoulders dented the couch cushions. Kate suddenly became more aware of their proximity when he turned to look at her. His face was close to hers. So near that it took physical effort not to inch away. Close enough that she had to concentrate in order to attend to what he was saying.

“I got a phone call from Dr. Sachar's office today. They had a cancellation for one forty-five tomorrow. I said I'd take it. Will you be able to come then?”

“Of course,” she said immediately.

“Great.” He seemed genuinely relieved. “Deanna has to try and change her schedule. She was supposed to hostess some kind of luncheon or something.”

“How does she feel about the whole thing? I mean, I assume you've shared your concerns with her.”

Michael's voice was noncommittal. “I've tried.”

When he didn't go on, she prompted, “And…”

He lifted a shoulder. “She knows something about ADD, she says. I think she was involved in a fund-raiser dealing with it last year. Deanna is very big into fund-raisers.”

“And…does she think Chloe has it?”

“She's ‘open to the possibility.' That's what she said.

‘Open to the possibility,'” he repeated softly, shaking his head. ”She always did have a remarkable ability to remain dispassionate about any subject I could throw at her. Even her daughter.”

Kate was unsure how to respond to that comment. He seemed to be brooding about something, staring into space. She didn't want to wonder what he was thinking, didn't want to care. But it was hard not to. He was a man used to being in charge of his own life. Now he was faced with a situation he had no control over, and given his love for his daughter, she knew that helplessness must terrify him.

Because she was too close to offering him comfort, a comfort she wasn't sure would be welcomed, she got up and began removing the cartons and wrappers from the table and carrying them to the trash.

She was surprised when he got to his feet and helped her. In short order the mess had been tidied and he had planted himself back on her sofa. She busied herself in the kitchen making coffee. The atmosphere in her living room seemed too cozy now without the activity of eating. Lounging with his back wedged in the corner of her couch, he was having difficulty arranging his long legs without tangling them in the coffee table. Finally, he pushed the table out of the way with one foot and then sprawled out comfortably.

He
was having no problem relaxing, she thought. There wasn't a hint of nerves in him, if indeed the man even owned any. He picked up the remote and turned the television on, flicking through the channels in a seemingly aimless fashion. Her couch really hadn't been selected with someone his size in mind. His rugged strength made it seem almost delicate in comparison. He flexed his shoulders, as if working out a kink, and watching that wide expanse stretch and strain against the back of his shirt suddenly impaired her ability to breathe.

“Coffee?” She thrust a mug at him and hoped he didn't notice that her voice was huskier than normal.

“Thanks.”

When he reached for the mug his hand brushed hers, his heat immediately transferring to her at the touch. She folded her hands together, trapping that heat, savoring the way it seemed to seep into her skin and shimmy through her veins.

“Aren't you having any?”

Her head jerked at his question. “No. Maybe later.”

He lazily patted the couch cushion beside him. “Well then, why don't you sit down. We have something to discuss.” He snapped off the TV and leaned forward to lay the remote on the coffee table.

She sat on the couch, taking great care to leave much more distance between them than he had indicated. “What might that be?”

“Our futures, of course. Yours and mine.”

He'd caught her attention. “Our futures?” she repeated faintly.

He nodded solemnly. “You didn't think I'd let you ignore it, did you?”

“Ignore what exactly?” she said cautiously, anticipation humming up her spine.

He held out his hand and slowly uncupped it. There in his big palm were two wrapped fortune cookies. Kate's breath was released in a rush.

“I don't think so, thanks,” she refused. “I've got my future pretty well planned out already.”

One dark, thick eyebrow rose at her words. “Do you, now? No room in that future for a little advice from a Confucius wanna-be?” When she shook her head, he grinned slowly and taunted, “Afraid?”

“Don't be ridiculous. What would I be afraid of?”

“You tell me,” he said softly. His gaze refused to release hers. There was teasing there, and more. He was a master at speaking on two different levels, keeping her off-kilter. But he was wrong if he thought she was afraid of him. Fear was one emotion he didn't stir in her. But afraid of herself? That possibility was too close to the truth to be entirely comfortable.

She snatched a fortune cookie out of his hand and opened
it. Retrieving the tiny slip of paper, she took an inordinate amount of time smoothing it before reading it out loud. “A patient man receives his just rewards.” Her gaze slowly lifted to his.

“True beauty waits for those wise enough to find it.” He recited his without releasing her gaze.

Seconds ticked by unnoticed as the silence between them grew taut with tension. “Kate.” His voice was a low rumble. “I did come here today to tell you about the appointment.”

She moistened her lips. “I…yes, I know that.”

His gaze was intent. “But I would have been here regardless. School's out. I'm no longer the parent of one of your students.”

Caught in the high-beam intensity of his gaze, she needed a moment to make the connection. Another to fashion a response to it. “Your relationship to Chloe wasn't my only concern.”

He reached for her hand where it lay at her side and sent his thumb skimming across her knuckles. “I know,” he murmured. His one-sided grin was meant to disarm. “I figured I'd handle them one at a time.”

And suddenly she realized just how subtly she'd been finessed. He'd seemed to back off, and on one level she'd regretted it. He'd given her just enough space to miss him, to think about him. And more than enough time to wonder what a relationship with him would be like. To wonder what would happen if she gave in to those disturbing hormonal tugs that appeared in her system whenever she was near him.