Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) (8 page)

Étienne didn’t know.

In the absence of a productive answer, his mind—and his dick—instantly circled back to his fierce desire to fuck her. The fact was, and had always been, Kate English was like a drug to him. He was still brutally attracted to her, no less than he’d been the night he first saw her on the trampoline, bathed in moonlight. But adult Kate wasn’t an endearingly nervous girl. She was all woman: confident, smart, sharp, and sexy as hell, even wearing that brown potato sack of a dress. He shifted in his desk chair as his long-ignored cock, which hadn’t seen any action since before he broke his leg, sprang to eager attention.

Did he want her? Like air or water.

Could he have her? Absolutely not.

His past with Kate was mired in hurt, and while sleeping with her had been the single best moment of his adolescence, the price he’d paid for that honor was unbelievably high. Any future with Kate, beyond business, was simply too messy to contemplate. He didn’t trust himself with her. He didn’t trust the explosive level of their chemistry—it had already made him blindingly stupid once in his life. Not to mention, she’d indicated that she was dating someone. Besides, he’d already promised himself that he would abstain from serious relationships for a good long time, and his history with Kate was too complicated for them to date casually.

Being with Kate was simply not an option.

That fact firmly accepted, he needed to do
something
to get his mind off of Kate and move in a different direction. Étienne’s eyes flicked to the invitation that J.C. had put on his desk this morning. This Saturday was the annual charity ball to benefit A Better Way, a local non-profit group that supported extracurricular programs for inner-city youth. At first, he’d rolled his eyes at J.C., looking meaningfully at his hobbled leg, but J.C. had laughed and told him he was a crappy dancer anyway.

No doubt she’ll be there with her boyfriend
, thought Étienne, frowning.

Reaching for his phone without a moment’s hesitation, he clicked on the address book, and found the name he was looking for. Since Connie and Weston English didn’t work out, he assumed she was free, especially since she’d called him upon her return from Rome. He and Connie were old friends—someone with whom he’d hooked up during his breaks with Amy, with no expectations and no hurt feelings after. As an added bonus, the Atwells and the Englishes were nothing short of mortal enemies, which meant that Kate and her insidious cousins would likely give him a wide berth with Connie on his arm.

Perfect
, he thought somewhat bleakly, purposely ignoring the anxious leap of his heart as he dialed the Connie’s number and half-hoping that she wouldn’t be free.

***

Kate rearranged the pictures on her desk for the twenty-sixth time, and smoothed her hair again, checking for rogue pencils that might be lodged there. Her blouse felt too tight, but the sales lady yesterday afternoon had assured her it wasn’t tight—it was just fitted. Still, Kate fussed with it a bit, trying to convince herself she’d bought it because she needed a new blouse, not because of anything Étienne may have said. Frankly, she was getting sick of Étienne. Waking up early this morning to take a run, Kate resented the fact that the entire hour—when she usually focused on the day ahead—had been wasted with thoughts and memories of Étienne, just like every hour from the moment she left his office on Monday.

After her conversation with Lib on Monday, Kate had turned away from LOVE and firmly decided there was no story to continue writing, but that yes, it needed an end. And that end required her to gather her courage and ask Étienne why he never responded to her, why he refused her calls, why she never heard from him again. That choice made, she was giving herself until the return trip from New Orleans to actually have the conversation. It’s not like they could be deep in a discussion of anti-trust laws and Kate could suddenly turn to him and demand, “Why didn’t you ever write back to me?” She needed to choose a moment divorced from business, and she had to be strong enough to accept his answer, whatever it was. She wasn’t there yet, but she would be. And once he told her that she’d been too awkward or too fat or too pathetic or too inexperienced to maintain his interest at the time, she would hold back her tears, and thank him for his honesty.

And then what?

Then she’d have a frank conversation with Tony. She’d tell him that while he may have sensed Kate had some loose ends in her head and heart, they were firmly tied up now, and she wanted to move their relationship to the next level. Glancing at the photo of herself and Tony on her desk, her grimace softened. In a perfectly-fitted tux, with reddish-blond hair, freckles, and bright green eyes, Tony managed to look boyish and sophisticated at once. Kate’s gaze lingered on his arm around his shoulders, then skated to his broad, confident grin and laughing eyes. She jumped when her phone buzzed.

“Yes, Jodie?”

“Mr. Rousseau has arrived. Shall I direct him to your office, Miss English?”

Despite her efforts to stay calm, her heart instantly raced into a gallop. “That would be fine.”

Kate flattened her palms on her desk and stood, lifting her chin and trying to look placid as her eyes fastened on the door to her office.
Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.
She heard his halting footsteps in the hallway, the plant of his cane and uneven pace of his gait, each small sound resonating in Kate’s head like a drum. She sucked in a deep breath as he turned the corner and appeared in her doorway: Étienne, in all of his heart-breaking beauty.

She swallowed, propelling herself around her desk with her hand extended. “Étienne. Good to see you.”

He shifted his cane to his other hand so that he could shake hers. “You too, Kate.”

Trying desperately to ignore the sensation of his flesh pressed against hers, she withdrew her hand quickly and gestured to a small conference table by the windows. “Shall we sit?”

He nodded, pulling out a chair and settling himself. Kate reached for his cane, but he pulled it back from her in an awkward tug of war. “I’ll keep it with me.”

“Of course,” she answered, heading back to her desk and picking up two manila folders. When she turned back to him, he’d shifted to look at her.

“Look, Kate. I know we have history.” He clasped his hands together in his lap, his green eyes direct and serious as he continued. “I know it’s making things awkward, but there’s no reason we can’t still work together. We’re both professionals, right?”

Kate took a deep breath and nodded at him, feeling relieved. “Yes, of course.”

“We can’t miss another issue like this anti-trust fiasco. It could blow the deal.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate.”

“Me too,” she admitted, taking the chair across from him, and sitting down. “I shouldn’t have said that about—”

“No recriminations. We both behaved poorly.” He gave her a gentle smile, though his eyes seemed far more searching and fierce than his casual posture and quiet, level-headed words.

Kate nodded, giving him a small smile of her own. He stared back at her intently, his eyes finally softening a little.

“It
is
good to see you,” he whispered intently.

“You too,” she murmured, amazed to find that it was true.

After a moment, he breathed deeply and shifted his glance to the files on the table before him. “Oil rigs and anti-trust. Are you up to speed?”

Kate sat up straighter in her chair. “I think so…unless Louisiana arbitrates differently? Why don’t we talk through the situation step-by-step so we have an action plan?”

“Of course,” he said, launching into a detailed discourse on the details pertaining to selling off a portion of Rousseau Shipbuilding prior to the merger.

***

Kate had ordered them lunch after three hours of sleeves-rolled-up review of the deal and Étienne considered her now as they sat across from one another unwrapping sandwiches.

Although his original intent in mentioning their past was to cut to the chase and explain to her exactly what had happened that morning at St. Michael’s, he realized that with things so tense and awkward between them, she wouldn’t be able to hear him. And it suddenly mattered to him that she heard him—that she understood. He didn’t want to just blurt out what had happened at St. Michaels for the sake of thrusting his truth on her; he truly and deeply wanted her to believe him, and to reframe everything that had happened between them after by applying a new truth to the circumstances. He knew it was theoretically impossible, but what Étienne really wanted to do was rewrite history. And he couldn’t do that while they were on pins and needles around each other. Before he could tell her anything, he needed to relieve the tension between them and soothe some of her uneasiness.

So far, so good. Over the past few hours not only had they made good progress on the anti-trust issues and possible buyers, but Kate had loosened up considerably. The only thing that hadn’t loosened up was her blouse.

While a huge improvement on the brown sack she wore last time, it fitted over her breasts like a glove, highlighting their luscious curves with just enough of an opening to be sexy, not slutty. Every time Kate looked away, his eyes gravitated to her chest like a magnet, and he decided he’d been idiotic to give her fashion advice: to say her clingy blouse was distracting would be a gross understatement.

She flicked her eyes up, and he met them just in time so that she didn’t catch him leering, then he grinned at her as she finished recounting a story about law school.

“…so I decided to go with an automatism defense,” she finished, laughing at herself.

“Amnesia?”

Nodding, she opened a packet of mayonnaise and squeezed it on her sandwich. “Amnesia.”

“And…?”

Her eyes flashed, pleased and blue, as she placed the top back on her sandwich. “I won.”

He chuckled lightly. “Of course you did. That was inspired.”

Kate’s face was totally unguarded as she grinned back at him for a moment before remembering herself. She shrugged, dropping his eyes, her exuberance dimming a little. “Well…it was unexpected, I guess. I surprised the jury.”

Sensing that it would make her uncomfortable to compliment her any further, he picked up his sandwich and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before saying, “You know, I thought I saw you once. While we were in law school.”

“Did you? Where?”

“At a collegiate legal convention. In Boston.”

She’d been dabbing at the corner of her mouth, but her hand stilled. “In the fall of 2010.”

“Yeah.”

“I was there.”

Surprised, he lowered the Coke bottle he’d been sipping from. “It
was
you. I called to you… from across a quad at Harvard.”

Kate opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.

“Kate…Do you remember? Did you see me?” he asked, searching her face.

She looked down, placing her sandwich on its wrapper and playing with the paper corner. “I wasn’t sure it was you. I didn’t want to… I…” She shook her head, still staring at the table.

“Didn’t want to what? I just wanted to say hello to you, Kate.”

Her eyes slammed into his and he was surprised to find them glistening. “Why?”

“Because it was you. Because you were… important to me.”

“How can you say that with a straight face?” she demanded.

He furrowed his brows as he stared back at her. “Because it’s true.”

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from him. “Please stop.”

“Kate, whatever you think—”

His words were cut off by a curt rap at her office door. Kate jumped from her seat, swiping at her eyes with her fingers and taking an audible deep breath. Étienne cut his eyes to the door, deeply annoyed by the timing of the interruption, but even more infuriated by its subject.

“Tony!” exclaimed Kate.

“Hello, sweets,” he said smoothly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Ready for lunch?”

Étienne strained his neck to get a look at her boyfriend, his eyes hardening as he took in the tall, elegant physique of a good-looking man.

“Oh,” said Kate. “Oh, no. I forgot. I’m so sorry.”

“No worries,” said Tony, looking over her head at Étienne, who still sat the small conference table. Étienne braced his hands on the tabletop and stood, nodding at fucking-Tony who had just ruined a good opportunity to untangle some of the history between him and Kate. “Tony Reddington.”

“Étienne Rousseau.”

Tony smiled congenially at Étienne, his eyes lingering on Étienne’s for an extra beat before turning back to Kate. “Well, sweets. Looks like you’re busy. Rain check?”

She nodded. “Sorry about it.”

Tony leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose before straightening. “Not another word. See you Saturday?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, flicking a glance at Étienne before turning back to her boyfriend. “Saturday.”

Tony looked at Étienne again, offering him a charming smile and holding his eyes, again, a single beat longer than necessary. “
Enchanté, Étienne
.”