Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) (6 page)

“Étienne,” she finally said in a quiet, slightly husky voice. She held out her hand, which trembled just a little. “It’s been a long time.”

He was a fool to expect he could take her hand without experiencing the same jolt of electricity he’d felt the first time he ever touched her, but it still surprised him. The way their hands fit together, the way his blood rushed fast and hot, gushing through his thundering heart like it hadn’t been twelve years since he’d held her soft, naked, willing body against his, but only twelve days, twelve hours, twelve minutes ago instead. Staring at their joined hands, he swallowed thickly, then—distracted by Barrett clearing his throat behind her—dropped her hand and took a clumsy step back.

“Hello, Kate. Thank you for coming.” Then he turned quickly to Barrett—knowing his cheeks were uncharacteristically flushed—determined to stay professional. “Barrett.”

“Ten,” said Barrett, extending his hand with a cool nod.

“J.C. is waiting for us in the conference room.”

“Lead the way,” said Barrett, placing his hand on the small of Kate’s back.

Étienne turned, leaning on his cane, hating the way he probably looked—weak and hobbled—while she looked as vibrant and strong and beautiful as the day he’d met her. He could smell her perfume just behind him, something clean and fresh like soap, or fresh laundry, or fresh cut grass, cool between his toes on a starry spring night. Hobbling carefully down the hallway, he asked himself why the hell he didn’t let J.C. greet them, but realized he hadn’t given the matter any thought. The moment he’d heard the light squeak of the glass reception doors, he’d bolted up from his seat near the conference room door and made his way down the hallway, as if pulled to her. It had been more than a decade since he’d seen her face, but suddenly it was like he wasn’t able to bear the separation another second. It made no sense at all, especially because he was so determined to protect his newfound freedom.

“Here we are,” he said, stopping at the conference room door to allow Barrett and Kate to precede him into the room.

“Barrett. Kate. Thanks for coming today,” said J.C., standing and reaching across the table to shake hands. “Shall we sit?”

“I think Kate should come with me,” said Étienne without thinking.

J.C., who’d already sat back down, looked up in surprise. “Oh?”

“Mmm. We, uh, well,
we
have to discuss the legal issues, and
your
time would be better spent discussing the merger plans.”

J.C. looked at Barrett, who shrugged as he took a seat at the table. “Does that work for you, Kate?”

Kate had been staring at Étienne since he uttered her name, but now she jerked her eyes to her cousin. “Yes. Fine. Work. We’re all here for work. I’m here for…work.”

Étienne’s lips twitched as he looked down, still holding open the conference room door. She was just as nervous as he was, and damn it, it made him want to smile because he was reminded of how flustered she could get and how much he used to like it.

Kate pivoted quickly, passing by him as she stepped back into the corridor. He closed the conference room door and led the way down the hall wordlessly, listening for her footfalls behind him. Stopping at his office, he opened the door and held it for her, clenching his jaw as she swept past him, trying to remind himself that the woman who was addling his mind right now was the same girl who’d looked into his eyes with devotion and then had promptly forgotten he ever existed.

Tightening his lips and narrowing his eyes, he trailed behind her, cursing his cane as he made his way slowly to his desk, finally lowering his body to the chair with relief.

Kate glanced at him, and then looked quickly around the room before taking a step toward one of two guest chairs in front of his desk, placing her briefcase in one and pulling out the other to sit. She unsnapped her briefcase, opening it and repositioning it to face her, then took a deep breath and looked up at him with clear, defiant eyes.

“Shall we get started?”

My God, she’s magnificent.

He had no idea where the thought came from, but it sat full and heavy in his head, edging out all other notions as he stared back at her. His lips twitched again, and he allowed them to form a small, teasing smile. He couldn’t help it.

“Shouldn’t we say hello first,
chaton
?”

Kitten
. Her eyes flared at his use of the old nickname and color flooded her cheeks.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

“Kate—”

“Fine.” She tilted her head to the side and offered him a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was sorry to hear about your accident. How are you?”

“Much better now,” he answered.

She licked her lips nervously and looked around the room, finally gesturing to the painting over the small loveseat in a cozy alcove. “One of yours?”

It surprised him that she should remember his love of painting. He looked over at the artwork, a piece he’d completed at Chateau Nouvelle last summer. “Yes.”

She stared at it for an extra beat before turning back to him. “It’s good. You were always talented, Étienne.”

“You look good, Kate.” It wasn’t an appropriate thing to say, but he was starting to realize that he didn’t have much control over his words around her…which was the only way he could account for what came out of his mouth next. “Except for that dress.”

She took a deep, sharp breath, blinking at him in shock.

“Still hiding your curves.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed further as she looked down at her briefcase, picking up a sheet of paper and laying it flat on his desk.

“Shall we focus on business?” she asked, her voice tight.

“If you’ll recall, I was a fan of them.”

She stared at him, holding her breath, stunned and completely flustered.

“Sorry I said that about your dress,” he said, biting on his lower lip. “Seeing you again is…throwing me off. I-I haven’t been in the office for a while. This is my first day back and—”

“You know what, Étienne?” she interrupted, her eyes flashing with fury as they cut to his. “I’m not here for your amusement…or for a walk down memory lane…or for your obnoxious comments and backhanded compliments. I am here to review the legal issues arising from our acquisition of your—”

“Are you seeing anyone?” he blurted, ignoring her mini tirade.

She sighed, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe his insolence. He watched her carefully as she decided whether or not to answer the question, tensing and releasing her jaw before finally saying, “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I am.”

“Who?”

“Tony Reddington.”

“Don’t know him.”

She blinked at him again before smoothing her hand over the document on his desk. “Yes, well, perhaps we should—”

“Want to know if I’m seeing anyone?”

“Not especially,” she huffed, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She searched his eyes for a moment and he read wariness, distrust and uncertainty in hers…but there, simmering below her indignation: curiosity.
There you are. Kate English, my curious cat, my kitten, my chaton.
He wasn’t at all surprised when she finally asked softly, trying to sound disinterested, “Are you?”

He shook his head. “No. I just broke up with someone.”

Suddenly her lips tilted up in a mocking smirk that he didn’t find attractive at all. “Oh, is
that
how you’re spinning it?”

So she knew about Amy. Of course she did. She was Stratton’s cousin. Sitting back in his own chair, he stared at her, suddenly feeling more guarded and less flirtatious.

“Fine,” he said evenly, with a little shrug of ennui. “She broke up with me.”

“Smart girl.”

Étienne felt his face harden, hurt feelings from long ago flooding back and crashing over him with fury. He’d been so sure Kate loved him all those years ago, and she hadn’t, of course. She’d left Haverford after their night together and he’d never heard from her again. Not a phone call. Not a letter. Nothing. She’d obviously believed Alex’s version of events as God’s truth and turned her back on him without giving him any chance to explain. And it still hurt. Even now.

“Oh, I see.
You
know Amy so well?” He shook his head, a mean smile spreading his thin, angry lips. “No. The person you know so well is Stratton, so I’m curious to know if he confessed that he banged my girlfriend every time she and I broke up for half an hour, or did he edit out that part of the story?”

Kate gasped, lurching forward and slamming her palm on his desk. “Don’t you
dare
talk about my cousin that way! He would
never
—”

“
He would never!
You’re still a naïve little princess with stars in your eyes, aren’t you,
chaton
? And
so
offended. Why don’t you go run and get Barrett to beat me up?”

She stared at him, her face the picture of righteous indignation, her chest heaving up and down with the force of her breathing. Finally she said in a low voice laced with contempt, “You are
ridiculous
.”

He flinched. Did she have any idea of the price he paid when Alex beat his face to a pulp in the courtyard of St. Michaels? How he’d been expelled? Forced by his parents to leave Haverford and attend military school far away in Mississippi? Of course she knew. Her cousins would have told her everything.

“
I’m
ridiculous? Fine. I’m ridiculous. You know, Kate, you’re right. We
should
focus on work. Let’s get this over with.” He reached forward, sliding the paper she’d placed on the desk closer to him and perusing it quickly. “Good idea. One of us needs to write a letter of intent. I’d ask you to do it, but if memory serves, letter writing was never your strong suit, so why don’t I prepare it? I’ll messenger it to English & Company tomorrow for your review.”

As he spoke, she flinched, sitting back in her chair slowly and staring at him in shock, like she was trying not to cry. And as much as he hated her in that moment, his heart clutched with the knowledge that he’d somehow managed to hurt her.

“Fine,” she murmured, looking away.

***

The fact that Kate had sent over thirty letters to Étienne after their week together—one a day for a month, none of which had ever been answered—made his comment so painful, it was as though he’d reached across the desk and slapped her. She dropped her eyes to her lap, biting the inside her cheek and forcing her eyes not to water.

So, she had one of her answers: He’d received her letters, but didn’t feel that letter writing was her “strong suit.” She sucked in a ragged breath, thinking about the flowery words of love she’d used so long ago to tell him how she felt, how much she missed him, how much she loved him, how she couldn’t wait to see him again. He’d read them and ignored them—or worse, laughed at them.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d had the audacity to accuse Stratton of sleeping with Amy? Her blood boiled and her tears receded. Stratton had been nothing but kind to Étienne’s ex-girlfriend. It was one thing to hurl insults at
her
. It was quite another to attack her cousin.

Well, she had gotten her wish. Étienne was being an utter and complete jerk, which should make it easy to thrust him from her head and heart, and focus all of her attention on sweet, polite Tony.

And yet.

And yet.

Kate sensed she had hurt him when she called Amy a “smart girl” for dumping him and to her surprise—and shame—that didn’t feel very satisfying at all. It felt low and petty to take a cheap shot like that, and if he hadn’t made that stupid comment about Barrett beating him up, she would have apologized. How had their conversation run off the rails so quickly?

She peeked at him quickly before glancing down again. He was still so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him because she suddenly remembered every expression, every look, every word he ever said to her. She wanted to stare at him for hours, to reclaim the contours of his face, to run her fingertips over his lips then bury them in his hair.

When her eyes had slammed into his at the reception desk, she’d felt it all the way through to her marrow—he still owned some part of her all these years later. He would
always
matter to her, despite the way he’d hurt her.

However he’d also reminded her, in short order, of what a jackass he could be. If she hadn’t been so shocked by his rude comment about her dress, she would have laughed, because she agreed with him—it wasn’t one of her prettier outfits. But then he’d chased it with that compliment about her curves, his eyes smoldering as he reminded her that he’d been a fan of them, and all reasonable thoughts had flown from her head.

Damn it.
This meeting was a disaster, and she had no idea how to work with him moving forward. She was feeling just as off-kilter as she’d felt when she’d fallen for him so long ago, and she couldn’t afford to walk down that road again. Unrequited longing might be a rite of passage for teenage girls, but it looked pathetic when worn by an adult woman. She wanted to focus on his rudeness and meanness, but being alone with him was making it impossible for her to control her weakness for him. There was only one solution: She needed to leave. Now.