The Count From Wisconsin (6 page)

He moved back a-little and smiled. "That's what I want. What I'll settle for is getting to know you better. I don't know about you, but I can always use another friend."

Kate leaned against the wall in stupefaction, then opened her brown eyes wide to stare at him. "You— you ought to be locked up," she said hoarsely. "You follow people around and turn them into stewed carrots." Her accusation gained momentum as her muscles decided at last to stay attached to her bones and her strength returned. "Then you smile and calmly say, "Be my friend.'' "

At her first words, he had begun to smile, then, as a red Jaguar whizzed past, he jerked his head around to watch its progress. Kate frowned when she realized that most of what she had said had been lost on him.

"What is it with you?" she asked. "Is this some kind of Jekyll and Hyde freak-out? Because if it is, the minute you start getting prominent brow ridges and hair on the palms of your hands, I'm cutting out. Do you hear me? Alex—"

He turned his gaze back to her, a frustrated expression making his harsh features even more harsh. "Son of a bitch," he muttered in exasperation as he glanced back to the street. Then moving his head to look at her again, he set his jaw stubbornly and said, "Come on," as he took her arm and began to urge her toward the street. Raising a hand, he signaled to a silver-blue Mercedes that was slowly moving toward them, and it seemed to Kate that she remembered the car having passed by them several times before.

When a uniformed chauffeur stepped from the car and moved briskly to open the back door, she pulled away from the hand on her arm. "What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she squeaked.

"I'm following that car," he said calmly. Then when he glanced down at her, she saw a sparkle of excitement gleaming in his dark eyes. Turning back to the chauffeur, he said, "You go on home, Bernard."

Kate had opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of eccentric millionaires who tried to abduct innocent cartoonists when suddenly a strange expression crossed her features. Seconds later, without comment, she walked to the car and slid in the passenger side, closing the door firmly.

She didn't even mind that a surprised, but triumphant, laugh erupted from Alex's throat. Because now she knew what she should have known the night before. This was the next act.

Four

Kate sat docile and silent as Alex maneuvered expertly through the twisting streets of Monaco. And she didn't speak when they took Rainier III Boulevard through Fontvielle, the tiny principality's industrial district.

But while they drove, her brow held deep grooves, her eyes narrowed, as she tried to solve the puzzle that nagged at her. She mumbled occasionally, arguing with herself, her Index finger held aloft each time she reached a point of importance in her silent debate.

Then as they pulled onto the superhighway that ran from Monaco to Nice and the Mercedes shot forward with a sudden burst of speed, she turned to study the man behind the steering wheel. Panic, bewilderment, and self-flagellation had all been thoroughly explored and discarded by the time she began to speak slowly.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I? For the third time since I've met you—Lord, was it only yesterday?—I'm following you around like a goose." She tapped the knuckle of her forefinger against her teeth for a moment, then added quizzically under her breath, "Maybe it's because I don't get enough lecithin."

His quick grin didn't anger her. It wasn't his fault that she had gone round the bend. No, she thought, shaking her head, he wasnt responsible for the idea that had hit her so forcefully minutes before, so she couldn't blame him for enjoying the situation.

She shook her head and continued In quiet astonishment. "I'm walking down the street and a man I barely know comes up and says, 'We're going to follow that car,' like something out of a low-budget movie."

She waved her hand back and forth In a helpless gesture. "Do I yell for the police? Do I use what I learned in either of my two Judo lessons? Do I even say a polite 'No, thank you. Yesterday was my day for being crazy, so I think I'll be sane today'?"

She shook her head emphatically, Ignoring his laughter. "Uh-uh, not me. Not Kate Call-Me-Irresponsible Sullivan. I step into your car like I've been waiting all my life to go on a joy ride with a fugitive from the banana bin." She gave a laugh that was surprisingly genuine, then leaned back in the smooth leather seat, adding in a lazy non sequltur, "I thought you said you drove a Ford."

"I do, but Bernard drives a Mercedes," he said, glancing across at her, then back to the road ahead. "You're very impulsive, aren't you?"

She shrugged and wiggled her outspread fingers in a so-so gesture.

"No, you definitely are," he said. "Do you always regret your impulsive actions?"

She considered the question. "Not usually," she said at last. "I generally decide that if I had taken the safe course, it would have been dull at the very least." She shot him a rueful glance. "But you have to remember my impulses normally concern nothing more drastic than buying a hot pink blouse rather than a demure brown one. It's only in the last two days that my impulses have gotten me in over my head."

"That must mean you're growing." He smiled at her dubious glance. "It stands to reason. Your impulses are expanding in scope, so your mind must be too."

"You really think so?" she asked skeptically, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "You don't suppose it could be simply that after all these years my brain has finally turned to Malt-o-Meal?" She gave a short laugh. "If I keep going at the rate I'm going, I'll most likely be at Happy Acres next week, weaving place mats out of old pantyhose and molding toothbrush holders out of Play-Doh."

He chuckled and reached over to give her a hearty pat on the back. "You're too tense," he chided amiably. "Loosen up. You made a decision; why not relax and enjoy it?"

Had she made a decision? Kate wondered. She supposed she must have because she was here, but it hadn't seemed to her that she had had a choice—unless life or hibernation was considered a choice. Coming with him, being involved with him, had seemed inevitable at the time. It was only after the deed was done that she began to wonder what strange things were going on in her head.

She wondered suddenly if it were something in Alex that was causing her strange behavior or something within herself. Or perhaps it was the two of them. The things she was beginning to feel, her uncharacteristic actions, may not have been possible until the two of them came together.

Turning slightly in her seat, she began to study his face in curiosity. His smile had faded somewhat as his concentration was once again centered on the examination of the cars in front of them on the highway.

She had forgotten that they were on a mysterious mission. With a sigh she turned her eyes forward to search for the red Jaguar, even though she couldn't help thinking that there were questions she should be asking at this point. Silly little questions like, "What are we doing . . . and why on earth are we doing it?"

But she wouldn't ask those questions. Even though she couldn't keep herself from being curious or stop the grumbling protests that were second nature to her, it somehow seemed important that she accept what was happening without waiting for explanations.

After all, would Lois Lane ask Superman for unimportant details when he was zooming away to catch the bad guy? Would the faithful Bull-winkle be anything less than staunch while following the brave Rocky?

Suddenly Kate grinned. Superman? Bull-Winkle? It must be an occupational hazard.

"There he is," Alex said at last, suppressed excitement showing through his casual tone. Within seconds they had swung off the highway and were on a small back road, heading roughly north.

"Duchess?"

Kate glanced at him warily when he gave her a coaxing smile. She definitely didn't trust that smile. "Yes, Count?" she murmured cautiously.

"If you'll open the glove compartment, you'll find a road map," he said, giving her a slightly sheepish look. "Would you look on it and see where we're headed?"

"You mean you don't even know where we are?" she asked, turning to stare at him incredulously.

The feeling that meeting him and becoming involved in his life was somehow fate had been dissolving steadily as they drove; now it disappeared completely. This wasn't her life; it was a missing episode of The Katzenjammer Kids.

"I'm from Wisconsin," he said flatly, giving an unconcerned shrug. "If you want to know how to get from Waukesha to Sheboygan, I'm your man. This place could be on Mars and I wouldn't know the difference."

Wisconsin. He had told her the night before he wasn't Belgian and his accent had told her he was American, but it was only now sinking in just how strange that was.

He had told her nothing of his background. How did a man who was as American as football get to be a Belgian count? As far as she knew, titles were always inherited. Evan had told her Alex was new on the Monte Carlo scene. Did that mean that he had only recently become a count, or did it simply mean he was just now getting around to visiting the playground of the rich and the famous?

"Does Wisconsin grow many counts?" she asked, giving him an inquisitive glance. "I mean, is it the state crop or something, like Idaho potatoes?"

When his only response was that brown velvet chuckle that somehow had the ability to invade her nervous system, she swallowed roughly and gave up her imitation of the loyal BuHwinkle.

"Alex," she said slowly, "I really don't want to pry, but could you tell me why we're chasing after that car? Does he owe you money . . . or are you simply personally offended by red Jaguars?"

"I need to talk to him. A little matter of extortion," he said. His voice was bland and casual, but she could sense he was waiting for her reaction.

"Oh, that explains it," she said, nodding as though she encountered extortion on a daily basis. Leaning forward, she got the map from the glove compartment and spread it out, beginning to examine it closely.

He laughed. "You're adorable, aren't you?"

"I've always thought so," she said modestly, then followed a line on the map with her index finger. "It looks like we're on this thin red line that goes to Digne. You know, Alex, I think I much prefer the big orange double line. It somehow looks more . . . more stable. This one seems to be taking us through a lot of wavy green stuff."

"That wavy green stuff is mountain." His words confirmed the fear she hadn't wanted to voice.

"I think I saw this scene in a movie once," Kate said under her breath as they began to climb a steep, winding road.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Fred Flintstone and Barney were—" She broke off and caught her breath as he accelerated.

The scenery began to whiz past in a dark green blur. Kate remained cool and calm for at least three seconds, then, as she slumped back in the seat, the wide brim of her hat slid down on her forehead while she squeezed her eyes shut and held on for dear life.

We're going over the edge now, she assured herself, giving a fatalistic nod. Any minute our path will be vertical instead of horizontal.

Broken bones were painful. Hadn't she always heard that? Hadn't everyone always told her, "Kate, broken bones are not nice things." She was very much afraid that any minute she was going to find out firsthand. Come to think of it, forcefully intruding on a glass windshield wouldn't exactly be a maypole dance.

Opening one eye cautiously, she peeked out the side window. Objects she assumed were trees and rocks flew past at a dizzying speed, melting into each other on a blue background in a crazy gray-green, tie-dyed mural.

Dropping her gaze, she stared down at a sheer plunge which seemed to be directly beneath her, as though the tires on her side of the car were supported by nothing more than her desperate grip on the armrest.

If Kate had looked more closely, she would have seen that there were a good three feet between her and the cliff edge, but somehow it didn't, seem the time for objective observations and she squeezed her eyes shut once more.

God, can we talk? Kate moaned silently. I've never asked you for much, have I? You have to understand that I still have things to do. She drew in a shaky breath.I/ have two books overdue at the library and You'll remember I always promised myself that I would run in the Boston marathon . . . just as soon as I got in shape.

Alex gave Kate a quick glance from the corner of his eye. She has guts, he thought with a grin. The speed that was necessary to keep up with Alvarez obviously scared her silly, but she wasn't going to show it.

Courage and beauty, he thought with delight, a terrific combination. It was no wonder he had been intrigued from the first moment he had seen her.

But last night, as he watched her through the window, he had merely thought her attractive . . . and sexy as hell. She had observed the scene around her, completely unimpressed by the people who were so terribly impressed with themselves. That had interested him, but he had been interested by many women only to find later that some flaw in their personality would put him off completely.

It was when he had seen the laughter in Kate's eyes and had recognized unashamed honesty in her reactions to him and the world that he had felt her touch a part of him that ached to be touched. The deepest part, the part that remained lonely even when he was with someone physically.

She had walked into his life and, seemingly without effort, had made him feel more alive than he had felt in years. There was something special about this woman Kate, and he was determined not to let her go until he had discovered what it was that made him feel the way he did.

He chuckled softly when he saw her slide lower in the seat. First, he thought, he would have to find a place that didn't terrify her.

"How're you doing, Katy?" Alex asked, breaking in on her frantic thoughts.

"Fine," she squeaked, the word barely audible. "Fine and dandy." Her last word slid away on a low moan and she resumed her silent conversation with that all-important Someone.

Dying is for Monday mornings in Plum, God, not for expensive vacations in France. I promise ... I promise I'll never let crazy men pick me up again if You'll just prevent me from being swept up by a broom.

At last Kate knew how the word "bloodcurdling" originated. She could actually feel the blood flowing through her veins as if it were solid instead of liquid. Perhaps if she watched, she would be able to see it moving in lumps beneath her skin, But she would never know because it would have taken a crowbar to pry her eyes—

"There he is," Alex said, once again interrupting her wild thoughts.

He sounded calm and sane, but she could hear the tension underlying his words. And with murder in her heart, she also recognized excitement. The big oaf was actually enjoying himself.

The idea of throttling him was discarded when she remembered he was driving, and she opened her eyes to see the red sports car ahead. Only a van and a small Saab wagon separated the Jaguar from the Mercedes. She inhaled in relief as he reduced their speed and began to maintain a careful distance from the sports car.

Straightening from her slumped position, Kate picked up the hat that had somehow landed on the floor and gave it a sorrowful glance. It was pitifully crushed and bedraggled. Another score she owed Alex, she thought as she tossed the hat in the backseat.

"You weren't scared, were you?" How could he sound concerned and amused at the same time?

"Me?" she scoffed weakly. "Of course not. I have absolute confidence in your driving."

"I see." He nodded slowly in agreement. "That's why you ripped off the armrest and wore a hole in the carpet trying to put on the brake."