Tinsel Town (11 page)

At least he hadn’t lied about his name.

The thought brought a hysterical giggle to her throat. She quickly swallowed the laugh and shook her head. She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she was sure something inside her would shatter into a million, sharp-edged pieces.

She turned away, wandering toward the crowd, not quite sure where she was headed.

When she felt his hand on her arm, she shoved it away.

“Please, Kate, let me explain.”

“Explain? Explain what, Dr. Thibodaux?” Her soft voice was laced with steel, coated with tears she refused to let fall. “Would you like to tell me how you decided to play a role?

How did you pick me? Was it convenience, or did you take pity on your poor, fat, sex-starved neighbor?”

“Kate, no! It wasn’t -- it isn’t anything like that.”

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A sudden realization smacked her cleanly between the shoulder blades, nearly taking her breath. “Oh my God, you really are writing a book. You didn’t lie about that, did you?”

She heard him shift but still refused to look at him. “No, I didn’t lie about that.”

“Somehow…somehow you found out that Betty had…that I was in need of…and it was perfect, wasn’t it? A perfect opportunity to study a lonely, single, overweight woman in the modern age. The kind of woman who could only get laid if her friend paid for it.”

Shame washed over her, numbed every inch of skin as it tore her heart with icy claws.

To think that she had actually fallen in love with this man. Her aesthetic taste in the opposite sex might be impeccable, but her luck was beyond lousy.

“That’s not what I thought, Kathleen.”

Ignoring the warning in his tone, she twisted her lips and plowed on. “I wonder how I’ll rate in your new book. Do I get a whole chapter? ‘Large Women and Their Special Kink’?

Or am I only good enough for a mention, maybe a paragraph or two?”

He stepped closer, the heat radiating from his body warming her back. “Stop it.

Just…stop it.”

She did turn then, spinning on her heel to stare at him through a red haze. “You should have stopped this weeks ago. You should have stopped before --” Before I fell in love with you.

She caught herself, kept the words behind her lips. She couldn’t dare to give him more ammunition to use against her. Shaking her head, she moved away from him, this time in the direction of her parents. She would plead a headache and ask if she could stay at their house.

She’d stop at the inn first and gather her things so she wouldn’t have to risk facing him again.

The good doctor would simply have to find another way to the hotel.

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Clive stared at the doorbell and willed his hand to move. He’d gone over every possible scenario last night and all the way over to the Frazier house this morning. He’d seriously considered giving Kate an entire day to absorb the truth, maybe settle down a bit, talk it out with her sisters. Then, he’d had a real, terrifying idea that she might leave town today without telling him. Hell, she had already packed her things and cleared out of the room by the time he’d gotten back to the inn last night. She could easily avoid him in Elizabeth Falls; she had enough friends to go underground. He could lose any chance to make her believe he loved her. To make her see that she should be with him. But if he could talk to her first, if he could lay out his arguments, prove to her that he hadn’t been using her, they just might have a chance to be together.

If he could make himself press the damn button. Fear was holding him back. He wasn’t used to being afraid with a woman. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed. It didn’t help that he logically understood the base emotion underscored his desire for Kate. It hurt like hell, and it took his courage and squashed it in its fist.

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Disgusted with himself, he lifted his hand to knock. He’d just avoid the whole damn doorbell. Just as he was wrapping his knuckles on the wood, the door swung open. Standing in the doorway, his ruddy face set in stern lines, Mike Frazier stood, blocking his way.

“Thibodaux,” he said, his voice deep as he drawled the name.

Clive suddenly felt like a tongue-tied, untried teenage boy. “Mr. Frazier.”

The other man crossed his arms across his barreled chest. “I suppose you’re here to see my Katie.”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

Clive straightened his back and rolled back his shoulders. “Then, it’s too damn bad.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then a slow, wide smile spread across Mike’s face.

“Well, now, that’s a fine thing. Come in where it’s warm.”

He couldn’t help but give the man a curious look. “You’re not just luring me in so you can kick my ass?”

“No, no.” Mike chuckled as he closed the door. “I just wanted to see how much you wanted Katie. I can see that you’re a determined man, and that’s just what my little girl needs. She’s a strong one, too much like me in some ways, too much like her mother in others. We’ve always said it’s going to take a patient man with a kind heart and a steel will to win our middle daughter.”

“I hope I’m that man, Mr. Frazier. I do want Kate, and she wants me…if she can just admit to herself.”

“And you’re going to convince her of that, are you?” He slapped Clive on the back and laughed. “I wish you luck. She’s back in the kitchen with her mother making pastries for the charity auction. I’ll be nice enough to warn you that she’s in a sulky mood, which is never good.” He suddenly turned very serious eyes to Clive. “I’ll also be nice enough to tell you that Tinsel Town

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if you hurt her, if you break my little Katie’s heart, you’ll find out how I won all those boxing matches when I was in the service.”

Clive swallowed, knowing very well that Mike meant what he said. “If I hurt her, I won’t bother to fight back.”

After a satisfied nod, the older man gave him a push toward the kitchen. He followed his nose, nerves dancing along his system to make him jittery. He felt ridiculous, he felt like a tiny speck in the wind, but he figured he deserved to feel a lot more. He’d let his libido win out over his logic, and it had cost his heart more than he’d ever guessed. Now he had to pray for Kate’s forgiveness. And hope that she felt at least half of what he did for her.

He paused in the doorway, watching her as she stood side by side with her mother. She was kneading dough, methodically pushing and twisting the soft pile on a floured stone. Her wavy hair was pulled back, her mouthwatering curves covered in a black sweater and well-worn jeans. Mrs. Frazier was chatting softly, her cheery voice adding a lyrical quality to the air.

He had to check the desire to grab Kate, haul her over his shoulder, and kidnap her. To force her to listen to him, to accept him, to forgive him. That wasn’t how this needed to play out, though, no matter how tempting the idea.

She must have felt him, because she slowly turned her eyes up to his, and her delicate face washed out to ghostly white. The pain in her eyes, the tremble of her bottom lip very nearly undid him. He’d always thought the whole crawling through broken glass cliché was overstated. Now he understood the sentiment and felt it down to his marrow.

“Kate.” His voice cut across the room, sounding raw even to his own ears.

She shook her head, her flour-dusted hands lifting to ward him off.

“Kate, please. I came to talk. Just…I want to talk.”

“No!” She turned to leave, realized she was trapped by the counters, and swung back.

“You can’t be here. I don’t want you here.”

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“Stop, don’t…for God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her wounded look said he already had and he felt like the lowest form of life. “I don’t want to talk to you, Clive. Not ever again.”

If she had been cool about it, if she had been careless with her words, he might have left. But there were tears in her voice, and the words were soaked with passion. There was feeling there, real emotion that she couldn’t deny. There was no way he could leave her alone. Not now.

“I love you, Kate.”

She went completely still, her jaw slack. Her body shook as her copper eyes lit with unfathomable feelings. He was afraid she’d break in front of him, just crack down the sides, and fall to the floor. Instead, the rolling pin came flying at his head.

He barely had time to duck before a plastic tumbler smacked him in the shoulder. “Ow, hey, stop!”

“Stop? You…you…bastard!”

A wooden spoon ricocheted off the archway molding. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? The man wants me to calm down.” She let out a maniacal laugh and flung a metal pie pan. It connected with his chest and bounced to the floor. “You have some nerve.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he growled.

A wet colander whizzed through the air; he twisted and dodged, but his hip still received a glancing blow. A metal bowl came next, smacking him smartly in the knee.

“You son of a bitch. You want to talk? You should have been talking days ago.” She followed the comment with a toss of a sugar- and cherry-coated whisk. “Oh, but talking wasn’t on your agenda, was it, professor?”

Her hand settled on a knife, but she stopped short as she realized what she had in her grip. Clive stood at the ready for a moment, then finally gave a long, drawn-out breath.

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Straightening, he positioned himself and stared at her. He was suddenly tired, his desperation running his body down to raw exhaustion.

“Go ahead. It’s exactly what I deserve. If it takes some of the pain away, then throw it.”

She gave him a mutinous look, poised her hand, held the wooden-handled knife above her shoulder. Then, just as suddenly as the attack had begun, it ended. She dropped the knife onto the counter with a loud clatter and snarled.

“I hate you.” Her words were icy, precise, and aimed directly at his heart. They cut more than the knife ever could have.

Without another word, Kate turned and stormed out of the kitchen, heading toward the dining room. He said nothing, didn’t try to stop her, could only watch her move farther away from him.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring after Kate. He felt a small, warm hand on his arm and suddenly realized Mrs. Frazier was still there.

“I’m afraid she has an Irish temper.”

Clive would have smiled if he’d had the heart. Instead, he let her lead him over to one of the bar stools and push him down. He didn’t speak -- couldn’t speak, as she moved around in the kitchen. He stared down at the counter, unsure about what to do. He’d never been unsure in his entire life. He sure as hell didn’t like the feeling.

A mug slid underneath his nose, the aroma of warm chocolate wafting up with the steam. He wrapped his hands around the heated ceramic without thought.

“She must love you a lot.”

He jerked at the statement, splashing the cocoa on his hand. The sting of the burn didn’t matter to him as he stared at Mrs. Frazier. “What?”

Nona gave him a motherly smile and patted his hand. “I haven’t seen Kate that heated up since her little sister dared to try to tune her new violin in eleventh grade. Not even when she caught Ethan with his hands in Heather’s, um, cookie pot.”

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The flare of hope faded and he hunched his shoulders. “She’s pissed. Really pissed.”

“And a woman like her doesn’t get that upset unless there’s a lot of passion there.”

He merely nodded, his mind going blank. The hurt had, at least for the moment, overridden his determination.

“But one thing about Kate,” Nona continued. “She doesn’t like to be pushed. She’s like my Mike in that way. She has to make up her own mind, in her own time, or she won’t be satisfied. She has to know it’s her decision.”

“Yeah…yeah, I know.” Funny that. In such a short time, he knew her better than he did any of the other women he’d been in long-term relationships with.

“You’re thinking that you know her in some ways, but you don’t in others.” Mrs.

Frazier chuckled when he looked up. “Don’t I live with her father? To this day, there are still parts of my husband that seem like a mystery to me. I love all of him, of course, but it’s still disconcerting to be knocked off balance by the person you think you know best. And you love every part of my daughter. I can see that.”

“I’m sick with it,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just…Kathleen is so…she’s amazing and I…” He gave up with a sigh.

Nona gave him a long, intense look, then grinned at him like a pleased cat. “You’ll do, Clive Thibodaux. You’ll do quite nicely. Now, you just drink your hot chocolate, think about what I said, and I’ll check on our Katie.”

He watched her leave, listened to her footsteps disappear into the dining room, heard the glass door open. Without her presence, he had nothing else to do but listen to the words, the accusations, and the truths that rang in his head.

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no right, no right whatsoever. Not after what he’d done. He’d hurt her by allowing her to think what she had. He’d made her crazy with thoughts of having to let him go, having to let him sleep with other women who’d paid for his services. Humiliation was the least of his offenses. And yet…and yet her heart had done a sickening somersault, her body had become one large ray of hope, her brain had been screaming with joy, when he’d walked through the kitchen archway.

“Kate?”

She wiped at her eyes and damned the tears that shimmered on her lashes. “I’m okay, Mom.”

“No, you aren’t. And neither is Clive.” Kate was surrounded by the warm scent of roses and wood smoke as her mother leaned on the railing beside her. “You know I try never to get involved in my children’s love lives.”

That drew a quick snort from Kate. Nona merely shrugged her shoulders and patted her daughter’s hand. “I said I tried, I didn’t say I always succeeded. I want you to be happy, Kathleen, because you deserve it.”