A Bridge to Love (12 page)

“Would
you set me up for a tennis game with Lidden Hartley? Right, the lieutenant
governor of Connecticut. Tell him I want a rematch.”

Kate had hit the perfect rhythm
as she ran along Oakwood Avenue with Gretchen trotting beside her. It was a
glorious autumn afternoon, warm in the sun but not humid. The soccer game was
over, the boys were happily occupied at home and she was free for a few
precious minutes. She had stripped down to her sports bra and running shorts
when she had broken a sweat. Now she enjoyed the breeze created by her own
motion and let her thoughts roam free.

For
the first time in weeks, she felt hopeful. It was amazing what an income could
do for one's spirits. She was even excited about the bridge itself. To the
commuters on the highway, it was just a different sound beneath their wheels.
To Kate, it was a series of puzzles to solve while considering mechanical,
economic and aesthetic factors. Her bridge was going to be both practical and
beautiful. Assuming that she got to build it. Their proposal was going in on
Monday, but Adler still had to win the bid.

The
boys were handling her more limited parenting time without any noticeable ill
effects. Kate thought that she probably missed them more than they missed her.
The
Dog Dough
jar was filling up;
evidently, both Clay and Patrick had cut some junk food out of their lunch
purchases to save more money. So her absence was even improving their eating
habits. Kate's chest swelled with motherly pride as she considered how well her
sons were responding to the change in their lives.

She
was the one having trouble handling change. She knew that Oliver was waiting,
and she had a sinking feeling that if she hadn't known Randall Johnson, in all
senses of the word, she wouldn't be so sure about rejecting him. Was she an
idiot to turn away a man who wanted to marry her and be a father to her
children just because he seemed colorless when compared to a multimillionaire
playboy? Kate preferred not to pursue that question because she was quite sure
the answer wouldn't be flattering to her. At least Randall hadn't called or
shown up at any soccer games. He must finally be so disgusted by her that he
was staying away.

She
should feel happier about that.

She
picked up her pace and resolutely turned her mind to the relative merits of
different paving materials. She was recalculating the amount of riprap needed
to protect the bridge's piers from scouring when she had a strong feeling that
she was being followed.

“Oh,
hell!” she exclaimed as she spotted the dark green Jaguar cruising just behind
her.

She
stopped dead, pulling a surprised Gretchen to a sudden halt. Randall Johnson
lifted a hand in greeting and then pulled up beside her.

“Randall.
Are you taking the Saturday afternoon tour of Claremont?” she asked coolly, as
she tried to ignore the tiny thrills vibrating through her body at the sight of
him.

Randall
reached across to push the passenger door open. “Hop in.”

Kate
shook her head. “No, thank you. I haven't finished my run yet. And I have
Gretchen with me.”

“Gretchen's
welcome to the backseat.”

Kate
could tell that he was getting annoyed. It was impossible to see his eyes
behind the aviator sunglasses but she saw his left hand flex on the steering
wheel. “I don't want her to scratch the leather. It was good to see you.” Kate
gently closed the door and started to walk away, feeling very pleased with
herself for escaping so gracefully.

“Kate,
you can either get in the car or I will put you in the car,” came an
exasperated growl from behind her. Kate stiffened and swung around to see
Randall explode out of his side of the Jaguar and stalk around to open her door
again. As she hesitated he started toward her.

“I'm
coming,” she said quickly.

Gretchen
scrambled into the backseat and sat panting happily. “Traitor,” Kate muttered
as she slid into the front.

She
glanced up. Randall was looking down at her with an appreciative leer and Kate
yanked her T-shirt out from around her waist and pulled it on over her head.
His smile widened as he sauntered around the car. She had to admit that he
looked good in a deep red polo shirt and khaki slacks. But then, she had yet to
see him looking bad.

Kate
crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.

“You
might want to lower your nose a little bit,” Randall said. “You'll get a crick
in your neck trying to look down it.”

She
couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from twitching but she kept her tone
frosty. “Were you looking for me or did you just happen to be driving by?”

“I
went by your house to invite you, Clay and Patrick to come swimming in the
indoor pool at Eagle's Nest. Clay told me your usual route. I'll admit that I
got distracted by the view for a few minutes.”

“These
old trees
are
beautiful, aren't they?”

Randall
wouldn't let her get away with that. “What trees? I was watching that trickle
of sweat running down your back and under those very snug shorts, and imagining
where it went from there.”

Kate
made a noise that was a mixture of embarrassment, annoyance and laughter.

He
swung the car into her driveway and turned off the engine. As he got out, he
said, “Just bring your bathing suit. I've got plenty of towels.”

Kate
leapt out of the car. “I don't believe that I accepted your invitation.”

“The
boys will be mighty disappointed.”

“You
are absolutely
shameless
.”

“Actually,
the
Wall Street Journal
says that I'm
a 'brilliant but ruthless negotiator.' No, that must have been
Forbes
. The
Journal
is never that complimentary.”

“I'd
call you underhanded and without any moral principles, myself.”

“You're
right! That's
exactly
what the
Journal
said.”

Kate
stalked into the house. “Clay! Patrick! Go get your bathing suits.”

Clay
and Patrick came bounding down the stairs. “Cool! You're letting us go!”

Kate
turned around to glare at Randall. He was leaning back against the door with
his arms crossed and the aviator glasses dangling from his fingertips. He
shrugged.

“Only
if you both can be ready in five minutes,” Kate said through clenched teeth.
Then, as the boys raced back up the steps, she added, “Because I might murder
him first.”

He
chuckled and pushed himself away from the door to come over to where she was
standing. He reached out and ran his fingers from her earlobe under her hair to
the back of her neck. Kate stiffened, thinking that he was going to pull her
toward him. Instead he lifted her hair up to cool her neck off.

“You've
worked up a good sweat. If you want to shower here, I'll wait. Or you can
shower at my place.”

Ripples
of delight were racing over Kate's scalp as Randall shifted his fingers in her
hair. When he bent down and blew against her overheated neck, Kate's eyelids
closed, her head fell back and a small moan escaped her as his breath seemed to
feather over every inch of her body.

Through
the haze of sensation, she heard whispering in her ear. “Do you know what I
want to do right now, Kate?”

She
didn't bother to answer. “I want to rip that T-shirt in half. Then I want to
pull that bra down to your waist and slide it over your hips along with your shorts.
When you're naked, I'm going to lick the sweat off your neck and between your
breasts and down in your belly button. And I'll keep going lower...”

His
voice was just as effective as his tongue would have been, and Kate's breath
was coming in small gasps.

Footsteps
sounded behind them. He released her head so suddenly that Kate almost lost her
balance.

“Is
there a diving board?” Patrick asked. “Is it an indoor pool?”

“Of
course, it's indoors,” Clay said with brotherly scorn. “It's too cold for
grown-ups to swim outside.”

Randall
started to answer Patrick's questions, and Kate escaped up the stairs. She shut
herself in her bedroom and stood with her head in her hands, shaking. Her body
was coiled tight with unsatisfied arousal, and she had the appalling thought
that Randall Johnson could have brought her to an orgasm right there in her
living room with just his voice. She stripped off her clothes and turned the
shower on cold. The shock cooled her body but did nothing to settle her mind.

She
finished combing her wet hair in front of the mirror and then said to her
reflection, “You are a widow. You are a mother. You are an engineer. You are
not a hormonally overwrought teenager with no control over your urges.”

She.
comforted herself with the thought that Clay and Patrick would protect her from
her baser impulses. Then her eyes widened in horrified realization. “Oh God,
he'll be wearing a bathing suit. And so will I.”

Kate
pulled on her black one-piece suit in Randall's elegant dressing room and
firmly tied the matching sarong around her hips. She wasn't taking the skirt
off until the last possible moment before she dived into that spectacular pool.
Kate squared her shoulders as she strode out to join the boys.

“Hey,
Mom! The diving board is great!” Clay said. He executed a back dive with a
one-and-a-half twist and cut the water with barely a splash.

“A
very handsome dive.” Randall's voice came from behind Kate and she turned to
see him sitting in a chair wearing dark blue swim trunks. A white towel was
draped around his neck.

“Thanks,
Mr. Johnson,” Clay said as he surfaced. Kate was still reeling from the impact
of having Randall's chest, shoulders and forearms bared to her eyes. She
refused to look any farther down his body and instead averted her gaze to the
pool itself.

“Frank
Peltier must have designed this, too,” she said, admiring the sleek marble
columns and tiled walls. Sunlight streamed in through French doors that looked
out over the Manhattan skyline. Kate closed her eyes against the memory that
brought forth.

“It's
a modern version of a Roman bath. It was his favorite part of the house,
probably because it cost the most. Architects love to mess with water.”

“Or
ignore it,” Kate laughed. “There's that famous story about Frank Lloyd Wright's
client complaining that the roof leaked over his place in the dining room.
Wright supposedly told him to move his chair.”

As
Randall laughed, Kate walked over to sit beside him. She realized her mistake
when she turned her head slightly and found his shoulder mere inches from her
own. She shifted sideways in her chair and looked straight ahead.

“Your
boys are good swimmers. Did you teach them?”

“No,
David was the driving force behind that sport. He loved the water.”

“Mom,
come in. It's warm,” Patrick called from the edge of the pool. “Mr. Johnson
says that the water heats his terrace and then circulates into the pool.”

Kate
flushed. Randall chuckled evilly. Suddenly, he was out of his chair and walking
toward the pool. “Come on in,” he said to her over his shoulder. As soon as his
toes hit the edge of the pool, he launched himself into a long racing dive. He
swam to the opposite end, giving Kate a breathtaking view of the muscles in his
back flexing and stretching as he moved effortlessly through the water.

“Show-off,”
she said under her breath. She stood up and untied her sarong and then did her
own flat dive into the water. However, she stopped beside Clay and Patrick,
using them as both shield and distraction. Randall stroked easily back to their
little group.

“Hey,
Mr. Johnson, can we play Marco Polo?” Patrick asked.

“Sure,
if you tell me how.”

Clay
and Patrick looked at each other in mute astonishment. The magnificent Mr.
Johnson didn't know how to play Marco Polo?

“There
weren't a lot of swimming pools where Mr. Johnson grew up,” Kate said.

“At
least you didn't say
when
I grew up.”

The
boys explained the rules with great enthusiasm. Randall volunteered to be “it”
first. He missed tagging Patrick by mere inches at least a half a dozen times,
then switched his attention to Clay. After several near misses, Randall got
him. Clay tagged Kate and Kate nabbed Patrick. Patrick ignored everyone but
Randall and finally cornered him on the steps. “I got you!” he yelled in
triumph, leaping into the air and pumping his fist.

Randall
picked him up and held him high in the air. “And for that you shall be
punished,” he said, launching him toward the deep end. Patrick landed with an
enormous splash and bobbed up saying, “Cool!” Randall submerged and then
without warning came straight for Kate under water.

“Watch
out, Mom!” Clay yelled. “He's it.”

Kate
frantically dodged and dove and twisted away from the big hands but she
couldn't out-swim him. He caught her ankle and reeled her in toward him,
sliding his other hand up her thigh, over her hip and around her waist to pull
her back against him.

“Being
it
has its compensations,” he said,
and then pulled her underwater. Kate wasn't ready and swallowed a mouthful of
pool water. She surfaced sputtering.