Friday's Child (19 page)

“I see.” She offered him a brilliant smile, one that was frighteningly detached. “I guess I should be glad you didn't choose to tell the neighborhood cat burglar.”

“Cat burglars usually climb in through windows,” he explained helpfully. He thought—no, he was sure he saw her back teeth clench.

“I don't suppose it occurred to you, Michael, when you were arranging this little ‘surprise,' that I don't own this condo. My rental agreement stipulates that I cannot make permanent changes to this unit without express permission from the owner.”

“Oh, I got permission,” Michael replied. “You don't have to worry about that. Your landlord was overjoyed when I explained what I was going to have done.” And why shouldn't he have been? he thought smugly. This day's work hadn't come cheaply, and the materials would stay the property of the landlord once Kate moved out. The man had had nothing to lose and a state-of-the-art security system to gain.

She looked at him then. Her eyes were distant, the smile too bright, with strain at the edges. “Well, aren't I lucky? It seems you've thought of everything. But then, you're used to that, aren't you, Michael? Planning sneak maneuvers, takeovers…it all must provide plenty of experience for trying to run other people's lives. After all, if you know what's best for a company, you must know what's best for everyone else, right?”

He blinked. “You're mad,” he said, a note of wonderment entering his tone.

Her teeth came together with a snap, and she stalked toward him, fairly radiating temper. Her hands slapped against his chest. “Brilliant deduction,” she said through gritted teeth, giving him a shove. The fact that she didn't even sway him seemed to remove the lid on her simmering emotions, allowing them full boil.

“What in God's name were you thinking?” she said, her voice rising. “This—” she waved a hand around her condo “—had to have cost hundreds.” Something in his eyes must have alerted her, and she stared hard at him. Aghast, she whispered, “Thousands. Oh, God.” Sinking to the rocking chair, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Do you know how long it will take me to pay that much money back?”

He scowled and took a step toward her. “Kate…”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Don't you dare—don't you even suggest that I accept this from you.”

Wisely, he stopped where he was, but she couldn't keep him from explaining. “I worry about you. I just wanted to make your place a little safer, that's all.”

“No,” she corrected him caustically, “what you wanted was to make decisions for me, to control me.”

Astonishment threatened to render him speechless. “Where did you get that idea? Honey, you're way off base.”

Her head shot up, and her eyes flashed. “Oh, am I? Am I really? Let's recount what happened here.
You
think—” the inflection she gave the word made his eyes narrow “—that I could use more security. I tell you that should I wish such
measures, I'll take care of them myself.” Her chin rose challengingly. “Do you remember that particular conversation?”

He jammed his hands into his pockets, hard, and remained stubbornly silent.

“So, knowing that I don't choose to make those changes to my apartment at this time, you get the brilliant idea of doing it for me. After all, what do I know about what I want, anyway? Surely Michael Friday, the terror of the corporate world, is the best judge of what I need.” She cocked her head at a challenging angle. “Isn't that about it?”

This conversation was so far removed from the one he'd thought he would be having with her that his mind was having difficulty making the adjustment. Her words were like small, sharp knives slicing at him. He still wasn't exactly sure how his intentions had gone so awry. All he knew was that each word she uttered was another stone in the wall she was building between them. The knowledge made his chest go tight. His first inclination was to tear down that wall, shatter her defenses in whatever way possible. He used all his willpower to keep his muscles relaxed, his voice even.

“You're wrong.”

The simple words seemed to ignite her temper further.

“Oh, am I? Am I really?”

Her disbelieving tone stirred the embers of his own temper. He strode over to where she was seated and bent down, shoving his face close to hers. “Yes, you are. I never gave a thought to ‘controlling' you.”

Her chin tilted up and their faces were so close they were almost touching. Glare for glare, temper for temper, she matched him. “Then what do you call all this?”

“I call it trying to keep you safe.” Each word was bit out with measured precision. “I call it showing you that I care.”

That last word scored a direct hit. It showed in her eyes, the way they widened. Doubt flickered across her face, and her voice was a little less combative when she spoke again.

“This wasn't the way to show it.”

He straightened and dragged a hand through his hair.

“You're telling me.”

“C'mon, Michael, you have to admit it's not exactly hearts and flowers. I mean, a home security system?” Her voice tapered off a little when he fixed her with a steely look. “It's not the normal way most men would go about convincing someone, a woman, that they—”

“Care?” he finished for her grimly. “But I'm not most men, am I, Kate? I'll tell you what kind of man I am. The kind who wants to protect those he cares about. The kind who worries about their safety.”

He saw the recognition in her eyes and knew she was remembering him telling her as much. But because stubbornness and doubt still showed on her face and because they fed the stream of anger he was trying to hold in check, he didn't let her off the hook. Not yet.

Turning half away from her, he said levelly, “But I can see how you reached the conclusion you did.”

“You can?”

He ignored the cautious hope threading her voice and nodded. “Certainly. You placed a very different interpretation on my actions.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Taken in the worst possible light, I'll admit you could interpret my actions as controlling.” He paused to read the agreement on her face before adding, “If you'll admit that I could interpret your actions as trying to use me.”

“Use you?” She bounced out of the chair and approached him. While he watched blandly, her eyes started shooting blue sparks as her temper flared again. She raked him up and down with her gaze. “I'll admit that you'd make a handy doorstop, but just how else do you figure I could use you?”

He crossed his arms across his chest and met her scowl for scowl. “For sex.”

“Sex!” Mouth hanging open, she stared at him in silent astonishment. When she regained her power of speech, she seemed capable of only a sputter. “You…you…brainless…egomaniacal…big…jerk! If I wanted someone on call for sex, what makes you think I'd mess with you? There are plenty of men willing to fulfill that role who aren't half as irri
tating as you are!” She thrust her hand in her hair, turning away from him in disbelief. She must have sensed his slight move toward her, because her elbow shot out and caught him in the stomach. He released a slight whoosh of air.

“As if I were that shallow, that casual…that…that…”

His hands caught her stiff shoulders and turned her gently around to face him. “I know,” he said simply.

Nonplussed, she stared at him, as if wondering if he was trying to drive her crazy. “You know?”

He nodded, feeling a bit more cheerful. “Sure I know. You're not the type of woman interested in only a physical relationship. You'd have to really care about a man before you'd get involved with him.”

“That's right,” she agreed, but was stopped short by the beatific smile that spread across his face. He'd boxed her neatly into a corner, and for an instant she looked hunted.

“I accept that,” he said softly, reaching for her, relieved when she didn't try to avoid his touch. Kneading her shoulders with gentle fingers, he continued, “And I want you to accept that I care about you, too. Maybe this hang-up I have about safety and security for those I care about is just paranoia. But that's what motivated me, Kate.” He tipped her chin up with one crooked finger. “Caring, not control.”

Her gaze met his for an instant, then skittered away. She moistened her lips, and when she spoke, she was careful not to look at him. “This isn't what I meant by keeping it simple, Michael.”

His thumbs rubbed some of the knots out of her shoulders. “I told you it couldn't be simple.” But she was still and tense before him, and a cold premonition pierced him even before she spoke again.

She ducked from beneath his touch slowly, with an awkward movement very different from her usual grace. She seemed to pace aimlessly in the small apartment, but when she came to a stop, the length of the sofa was between them.

His eyes narrowed. That distance wasn't lost on him.

“I need some time.” She rubbed a weary hand across her
forehead, and if her words hadn't struck him with bolts of terror, he'd have felt sorry for her. She looked almost forlorn standing there. “This isn't…it isn't working out the way I thought it could.” She dropped her hand, and her eyes looked haunted. “I have to figure this out. Just please…please, Michael, give me some time.”

She was slipping away from him. Everything inside him wanted to lunge for her, to hold on tight, to prevent her from vanishing from his life. He stayed where he was, his hands fisted at his sides. “You don't need time. You need to face up to your feelings.” That brought some emotion to her face, to her voice. And he thought he'd much rather be faced with her annoyance than her detachment.

“Oh, so now you're an expert on my feelings, as well?” she said caustically. “Does that expertise come from the corporate world? Can you take over someone's thoughts and feelings as easily as you take over a company?”

His mouth flattened and he swallowed a retort, swallowed the anger and fear that threatened to swamp him. Anger and fear wouldn't get through the wall she put between them, it would only add another brick to it. “Shutting me out won't solve anything.”

She heaved a huge breath and pushed her hair back from her face. He clenched fingers that itched to follow suit. “I'll be the judge of that,” she said somewhat shakily. “I want you to leave now, and I'll let you know if…when I want to see you again.”

He caught her verbal slip. The fear was back, but it was doing battle with pride, and losing. “If that's what you want.” He'd survived rejection before, and with very little effort would again. Probably. If it left a deep and ragged void in him this time, it would be easy enough to fill. He had Chloe, he had his work, he had… He refused to believe that was emptiness already seeping in. This shot all his plans to hell and back, and maybe that was why he felt as if a vise were squeezing his chest. But that didn't mean he was going to beg.

Without another word he turned away and walked to the
door. His hands were unsteady as they reached for the knob. The sound of the door closing behind him shouldn't have sounded so final. So bleak.

And it shouldn't have filled him with a sick certainty that he'd just lost something he could never hope to replace.

M
ichael drove like an automaton, his sports car eating up the freeway. It was easier not to think, not to feel. But he knew reaction was only minutes away. Reality wasn't kind enough to allow numbness to remain permanently.

He roared off an exit ramp, his headlights slicing through the darkness. He drove the car expertly, trying to direct all his awareness into an appreciation for its speed and handling. When he reached the canopied, winding roads of Great Falls, he reluctantly slowed down. He wasn't interested in wrapping his Jag around one of the huge trees hovering at the roadside.

Feeling was already returning, seeping through his determined resistance. And with it came thought. Both had refused to stay banished for long.

He'd lost her.

The knowledge hammered at the base of his skull in painful dissonance. A roaring in his ears accompanied the certainty, and his gut felt hollow. Somehow, some way, his actions had conspired against him in the most baffling manner and driven a wedge between them. A wedge, hell, he thought bitterly. More like a damn fortress.

The darkness of the night mirrored his soul. Moonlight slivered through the treetops, offering only miserly glimpses of silver. It was for the best. If he tried hard enough, long enough, he'd be able to convince himself of that. He didn't have the time to spare away from Chloe, from the business to try to get a clue on just how Kate's mind worked. If she couldn't accept the fact that someone cared about her, that was her problem.

But right now it was feeling a lot like he was the one with the problem. The air in the car seemed to shrink and go stale. Taking each curve and dip of the shadowy road with unconscious ease, he hit the buttons to lower the electric windows. The balmy night air rushed into the confines of the vehicle but failed to relieve his strangled lungs.

He hauled in a giant breath. Okay, so forgetting his plans for a relationship with Kate Rose wasn't going to be easy. But he'd faced disappointment before, hadn't he? He was a master at weighing the odds and cutting his losses when they didn't stack up favorably. There was no reason for this situation to be any different. He'd clouded it with emotions, always dangerous. But he was through with those emotions now, ready to lock them away, and he hoped like hell he never had to deal with them again.

Lord, it was stifling in here. His hand went to the tie he'd loosened hours ago, yanking it free from his shirt. His fingers tripped over themselves working a couple more shirt buttons open. The task didn't relieve the suffocating grip on his lungs. He was lucky this thing with Kate had ended before he'd gotten in any deeper. He'd always hated to walk away from a situation he'd invested heavily in. This wasn't business, of course, but a personal relationship followed the same rules, didn't it? And he really didn't have that much invested in Kate. After all, it wasn't as if he were in lo—

His fingers froze on the wheel. A creature of the night scampered across the road in front of him and froze there for an instant, reflecting his own immobility. When it raced to safety, his half-formed errant thought did the same.

He shifted his foot to the brake and the powerful car re
sponded, tires squealing as he slowed rapidly. There was no more than a foot at each side of the road separating it from the woods, but there were plenty of private drives winding through the trees to houses set well back. He pulled into the first one he saw and just sat for a moment, trying to get his breath. But that seemed impossible.

Opening his door, he stumbled out of the car and leaned weakly against it. The heat that enveloped him left a sheen on his skin, a fine tremor in his limbs. He dropped his hands to his knees and panted raggedly. He'd never experienced an anxiety attack, and since many would swear he didn't possess nerves, he had never expected to. But something gripped him right now and was threatening to rob him of every reasonable response.

Get ahold of yourself, he ordered mentally, his breath coming in huge gulps. The thing to do in a crisis was focus. Focus. He forced his lungs to work more rhythmically by sheer, fierce will. He pushed feelings aside; they screwed everything up, anyway. If this was, in fact, a business deal, before he'd cut his losses he'd tally up pros and cons and weigh them both carefully.

Yeah. The breath billowed out of him in one long stream of air. Already the mental ledger was flipping open in his head, eager for the application of logic and cool, calculated reason. Kate or no Kate? Which represented the greater risk?

She was intriguing, yes. She'd intrigued him from the start. Chalk one up for the pro side of the ledger. But intriguing was just a stone's throw from maddening, wasn't it? The woman threw him more curves than the Orioles's starting pitcher. Confusing definitely settled on the con side.

The businesslike tallying was soothing, and he straightened weakly, leaning against the car. On the pro side he'd definitely have to add gorgeous. Sexy. Loved kids. Got along great with Chloe. And Chloe thought Kate was wonderful, as well. But Kate sure didn't trust easily and was prickly as an irritated porcupine about her independence. Add those to the opposite side.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a measure of nor
malcy returning. This was where he'd erred to begin with, when he'd strayed too far from profit-and-loss analysis. Personal relationships should function more like those in business, he reflected. It made everything far more practical and eliminated hormone-laden decision making. Not that hormones weren't important in a personal relationship; his sure responded each time he was near Kate. Another positive. And he genuinely liked her. Respected her. Cared about her. He circled around that admission, deemed it safe. He even cared…deeply. He only wished she was as straightforward about her emotions, he thought self-righteously. If she confronted them head-on, as he had, maybe she'd stop throwing up roadblocks every time he got too close.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he still had far more to gain by proceeding with his plans regarding Kate than by bowing out. And if he was truthful with himself, it was what he wanted. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to settle into a life with her, one that would be rich and fulfilling for both of them. He wanted to make a family with her and Chloe. That hadn't changed.

Ice-edged panic glided up his spine and curved painfully across his heart. After the scene tonight, she was lost to him as surely as if she'd been removed from this planet. She might have seemed confused, but she'd left no room for doubt as to what she'd wanted. Him gone. If he'd brought about that response by telling her he cared about her, he would terrify her if he mentioned marriage.

He swallowed hard as the nerves threatened to punch through him again. All he had to do was stick to his original plan. Marriage would come at the culmination of a relationship filled with mutual affection, respect, trust and damn good sex. It would happen, if he didn't allow himself to go haywire with emotion.

Air trickled back into his lungs, and with it came resolve. He'd messed up tonight, primarily because he didn't understand Kate well enough yet to predict how his actions would affect her. His first mistake had been in not forcing her to tell him what was behind her fierce need for independence. His
second mistake had been leaving her in the first place. Determination had him turning to get back in the car.

He switched on the ignition and backed out of the driveway, heading for the city. He wouldn't make the same error twice tonight. And this time, he vowed, he was going to show a measure of the finesse he was capable of. Somehow he'd make her understand. And accept.

He reached for his car phone and dialed her number. Impatiently, he waited through five rings before she answered. Not bothering with a greeting, he said shortly, “It's me. Don't hang up. I'm coming over again, and I want to talk to you.” Her weary protest had his lips firming. “I'll be there, Kate. And you'll either open the door, or I'll shout what I have to say for the whole neighborhood to hear.” The crashing of the receiver in his ear signaled her displeasure. He flipped the phone off and pressed more firmly on the accelerator. He had about twenty minutes to come up with a way to persuade her to give him another chance. He kept the gnawing fear at bay by refusing to contemplate failure.

 

The single light above her porch was glowing, and a relieved breath escaped him at the sight. She was up, and she was going to let him in. That was a start. He hadn't relished playing this scene out for the entertainment of her neighbors.

He bounded out of the car and up her walk, wiping his palms on his pant legs. Hesitating on her porch, he took a moment to marshall his arguments, but the door swung open, robbing him of that small advantage.

Kate glared at him with sullen defiance. His gaze feasted on her hungrily. She had obviously showered; her hair was still half-wet and drying in riotous curls down her back. She was barefoot and clad in a white terry cloth robe. She backed away to let him enter, then turned and walked into the living room, sinking onto the couch.

Michael paused awkwardly before following her. Somehow, in the face of her stubborn silence, his carefully rehearsed persuasiveness was fading away. He battled to hang on to the unnatural calm that had settled over him on the way
here. If he gave in to the pendulum of panic and despair that had enveloped him on the way home, he was lost.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

Her brow arched. “Well, you didn't leave me with much of a choice, did you?”

He swallowed around the knot in his throat. This wasn't starting out promisingly. “No,” he admitted. “It was important that I see you again tonight. Too important to wait.”

Her eyes flashed, and he knew he'd misjudged the depth of her resentment. “Important to whom? Ah, yes. To Michael. The only one whose wishes count.”

Because he couldn't think of anything else to do with them, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “Believe me, Kate, I didn't come here to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I don't believe you did,” she said coolly. After the barest of pauses, she added, “I think you came because I was right earlier.”

He eyed her blankly.

“When I said you needed to be in control. That's what this is about, Michael, and you can deny it all you want. It doesn't make the truth go away.” She shot from the couch like a tightly coiled spring to pace in the small area of the room. “You call and say you're coming, so naturally I'm expected to let you in. That's the way you planned it, isn't it?” Her eyes were sheets of blue lightning. “You're very good at getting your way.”

“Control seems to be a big issue with you.” It took effort to keep his voice even. “Why don't you tell me what's behind that? Or should I be asking who's behind it?”

Her expression froze and she stopped in her tracks, her eyes huge and haunted. For an instant he thought she would crumple, and his muscles bunched, ready to spring to her aid. Then slowly, visibly, she straightened and tucked that momentary weakness back out of sight. “My father used power in lieu of emotion.” Her voice was void of inflection. “He dictated everything we ate, where we went, how we wore our hair, how we spent our time. We could barely breathe in that house without checking with him first. Going away to college was
the first decision I ever made on my own, and he's never forgiven me for doing so without his permission. I'm not allowed to spend time alone with my youngest siblings. He's afraid they'll pick up notions of independence the way you pick up a virus. I think I understand the reason he is the way he is. But that doesn't mean I respect him.”

The last words sounded as though they had been ripped out of her, leaving a jagged wake of pain. He was sure they had. He knew too well that resentment could be a double-edged sword. The need to comfort, to explain was instinctive.

“My actions were motivated with the emotion your father lacked. Caring, Kate. Not control. Maybe that doesn't make it okay, but I'd like to think if you'd ever shared any of this with me before that I would have acted differently.”

She just stared at him, those deep blue eyes giving no hint of her thoughts. Desperation leaked in through the cracks of the careful shore of confidence he'd rebuilt on the way over. “All I'm asking is that you trust me, just a little. Just enough to give me the benefit of the doubt when I say I would never do anything to hurt you. Enough to believe me when I say I don't want to control you or make you unhappy. Hell, I want to marry you.”

He watched the shocked dismay flood across her face with chagrin, and if he could have reached his own butt, he'd have kicked it. Blurting it out like that wasn't the wisest move he'd ever made, but he was rapidly finding that wisdom wasn't always a conscious choice. So much for well-laid plans.

Kate actually swayed under the impact of his words, and her face went as white as the terry cloth. She brushed at the hair that tumbled over her shoulder with a hand that trembled visibly. Her reaction did nothing to relieve the tightness in his chest.

“Marriage,” she echoed bleakly. The hollow shock in her eyes had talons of fear clawing through his gut, piercing deep. She shook her head slightly, as if to clear it, and reached a blind, searching hand behind her for the sofa. She dropped onto it as if her legs had suddenly given out. “Michael, this
isn't what I meant by keeping it simple. Marriage.” She took a deep breath and released it. “This isn't simple at all.”

Because he couldn't stand the distance between them for another instant, he crossed the room and sank down beside her. “God knows I've messed this up,” he murmured, as much to himself as to her. He reached down for her hand and measured his palm against hers. “Just tell me you'll think about it. Think about us. We could have it all, Kate.” He linked their fingers, watched her intently as her gaze slowly rose to his. “We could be a family. You, me, Chloe and as many more kids as you want.” Her eyes flickered at his words, and he allowed himself to take hope from the tiny sign of emotion. “I told you I cared about you, and I know you feel the same way about me.” Still she was silent, and he urged, “You do, don't you?”