A Bridge to Love (14 page)

She
sat down in a wooden rocking chair. Randall lounged on the swing. He seemed
lost in thought and Kate watched him over the rim of her wineglass, trying to
analyze why he had such a strong impact on her.

He
had an athletic build, with wide shoulders and muscles defined by exercise. She
wondered how he found the time. He had an almost arrogant self-assurance that
should be abrasive but instead seemed right. His face would never be labeled
“handsome.” David had been handsome. But Randall's dark straight brows, intense
eyes and razor sharp cheekbones were so striking that he made “handsome”
unnecessary. And he had already proven that just his voice could heat up her
body.

Kate
took a swallow of her wine and leaned her head back against the chair. Not only
was she no closer to solving the mystery of their chemistry than before, but
she also had made it worse. She now wanted to drape herself over that large
male body stretched out so tantalizingly near her.

Randall's
thoughts had taken a different direction. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Kate
choked on her wine in surprise. “There's nothing to tell. Didn't Tolstoy say
that all happy families resemble each other? I grew up in a happy family with
two older brothers. We were comfortable but not rich. I went to private school
and got a scholarship to M.I.T. And that's about it.”

“Where
did you meet David?”

He
was lucky that she was enjoying having his body close by or she would have told
him that it was none of his business. “At work. We got assigned to the same
skyscraper.”

“Do
you regret marrying him?”

Kate
stiffened. “That's a very personal question.”

“Yes,
it is.”

She
was surprised into a laugh. “But you expect me to answer it.”

“Why
not?”

Kate
thought about it. If she hadn't married David, she wouldn't have Clay and
Patrick, so clearly she didn't regret that. Furthermore, she wouldn't have had
a life that, until David's sudden death, had seemed blessed and guided by some
good fairy.

She
also wouldn't have suffered the anguish of having the man she loved die in the
prime of his life. She wouldn't have had to struggle with the sometimes
overwhelming responsibility of being a single parent. And she would not have
had her very being shattered by the betrayal of the man to whom she had
entrusted her life.

“I
hate not knowing why he did it,” Kate said finally.

“He
was a fool.”

“You
can't know that. You never met him.” Despite her words, Kate felt absurdly
comforted by Randall's unequivocal statement.

“I've
met you. I've met your children. He was a fool.” Randall took a drink out of the
wineglass he'd been balancing on the back of the swing. “I know you want to
beat yourself up about your marriage failing, but sometimes men do stupid
things without considering the consequences.”

“Is
that the opinion of an expert?”

Randall
half-smiled. “I've done as many stupid things as the next man, but I respect my
promises.”

“That
I believe.”

He
suddenly straightened up and leaned forward to put his wine down on the wicker
table in front of the swing. Looking up at her from under his eyebrows, he said
forcefully, “You should stop trying to figure out what you did wrong and put
the blame on him where it belongs.”

Kate
was touched by his attempt to make her feel better and surprised at the
perception behind his comments. She also desperately wanted to believe him.

Randall
had evidently had enough of playing the comforter because he got up and
strolled around the table to her chair. Bracing his arms on the armrests and
rocking her chair backward, he leaned down until his mouth was inches from
hers. “Why don't I call Rosa to come down and stay with the boys and we'll go
back to my house. Have you ever made love in a pool? You lie back in the water
and wrap your legs around my waist. It lasts a long, long time because there's
no weight and no friction. Just heat.” His voice had dropped and slowed. His
lips were practically touching Kate's. She let her eyelids close and tilted her
chin just slightly upward so that her lips brushed his. She felt him shudder
just as a jolt streaked through her own body. Then he was gone, striding over
to the table and downing the wine in one swallow.

“You
are the most unpredictable woman.”

Kate
was pleased to have knocked him off balance. She smiled. “I thought that I was
being very cooperative.”

“Just
enough to make me die of frustration. Would you have come back to my house?”

“No.”

“Would
you have let me make love to you in that rocking chair?”

“That
would be difficult. Too much enthusiasm and we'd go right over backward.”

“I'll
sit in the rocking chair. You can lower yourself slowly onto my lap.”

All
sensation centered itself between her legs as Kate visualized sliding slowly
down onto Randall as he sat in the rocking chair.

“If
you don't stop looking like that, I'm not going to give you any choice,” he
growled. “I have to get home.”

“To
make some calls?” Kate asked sweetly.

“To
take a cold shower.”

This
time Kate got to laugh at him as he walked back into her house. She sauntered
in after him, feeling very satisfied with her tactics. She knew that she was
playing with fire but she felt safe in her own house with her children there.
Despite Randall's pretensions to lechery, Kate was sure that he had never for a
moment considered seducing her with Clay and Patrick in the house. A pleasant
sense of power surged through her. She had called his bluff.

She
arrived in the kitchen to find her guest saying good night to her sons. “Your
mother's going to walk me to my car,” he concluded as he took the glass out of
her grasp and put his hand in the small of her back to move her toward the back
door. Kate gave him two points for the maneuver but she didn't see what it
would gain him. After all, she didn't have a private courtyard to park in.

But
Randall hadn't spent an hour in her backyard without noticing the landscape.
Kate found herself propelled into a pitch-black corner created by an odd angle
in the join between the house and the garage.

“You're
going to go to bed just as frustrated as I am,” Randall said as he backed her
against the wall and slid his knee between hers to hold her there. Kate gasped
involuntarily as his leg pressed against the juncture of her thighs. “That's
what I want to hear,” he said.

He
held her face between his hands and Kate braced herself for an assault on her
mouth. Instead he lightly ran his lips along her eyebrows, over her eyelids, to
her temples and finally to her ear which he simply breathed into. Kate's skin
prickled deliciously, and she shivered against him. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Two
could play this game, and Kate suspected that she had a slight advantage. She
slid her hands slowly up his chest until she found his warm skin through the
open collar of his polo shirt. She wrapped her hands around the back of his
neck and pulled him toward her so that she could kiss his throat. His muscles
jumped quite satisfactorily when her lips touched his skin so Kate decided to
see what happened when she tasted him with her tongue.

Randall's
groan was all that she had hoped for. He was so hard against her pelvis that it
would have been painful if Kate hadn't felt so pleased with his reaction. She
laughed softly and then regretted it when Randall ripped her shirt-tails out of
the waistband of her slacks and slid his hands under the fabric to unhook her
bra.

“Stop
it,” she hissed, trying to lower her arms to push him away. But he had angled
his arms under hers and he was far stronger than she was. He cupped her breasts
and circled his thumbs over her nipples, turning Kate's furious whisper into a
long moan. She wouldn't have imagined that there was any space to move but somehow
as Randall's fingers played over her sensitive skin, Kate's hips rocked against
his without any conscious thought on her part.

Now
Randall laughed, although Kate detected a certain ragged edge in the sound. “If
you're going to engage the enemy, you have to be prepared to accept the
consequences,” he said and then slid his hands down to the belt buckle at her
waist.

“Randall,
no!” Kate dug her fingernails hard into his shoulders and did her best to keep
her buckle out of his grasp. Since his leg was still firmly braced between
hers, her evasive action created considerable friction.

Suddenly,
his hands were clamped on her hips. “Hold still, damn it, unless you want to
finish this right here and now.”

“That
seemed to be your intention.”

He
chuckled and let go of her. “I was trying to be helpful.”

Kate
wanted to slide bonelessly down to the ground. Instead, she locked her knees
and drew in a shaky breath.

Before
she could think of anything to say, Randall spoke again. “I've been playing
this game a lot longer than you have, Kate. Remember that. Thanks for the
nutritious, well-balanced dinner.” He started to walk out the gate, then
half-turned. “You should tuck your shirt back in before you go inside.” He
melted into the shadows before Kate could open her mouth.

She
listened for the slam of his car door and the soft roar of the Ferrari's engine
before she re-hooked her bra and loosened her belt to push her shirt back where
it belonged.

She
walked to the back steps and sat down. She reminded herself that he had said he
was just playing with her. She recalled that he had told her he wasn't a nice
man. Right now, she didn't care.

Until
she walked in the door and saw the look that Clay and Patrick exchanged.

“Mr.
Johnson's really cool,” Patrick said, cautiously.

“I'm
glad you liked him.”

“It
must be great to have your own indoor swimming pool,” he continued. “He says
that he swims every day, even if he gets home at midnight. Are you and Mr.
Johnson dating, Mom?”

“What?
No. I don't think so,” Kate said. Her sons had clearly been discussing the
relationship between Randall and herself.

Patrick's
face fell as he accepted her answer. Clay, however, looked skeptical. Kate
thought of trying “we're just friends” but it was so far from the truth that
she couldn't get her tongue around it. Instead, she said, “I think that we're
trying to decide if we want to date.”

That
cheered Patrick up. Clay remained silent, and Kate wondered what he was
thinking. She didn't ask him because it was not a discussion she was prepared
to have until she had straightened out her own thoughts.

As
she shooed the boys upstairs to get ready for bed, she told herself
, Just keep in mind that he's playing
cat-and-mouse with you and you're the mouse.

Randall
drove the Ferrari home at an entirely illegal speed. He was irritated for
several reasons. He had an erection that was going to require an ice pack to
get rid of, and it was too late to invite any of his usual female companions
out for dinner and a release of tension. Randall couldn't think of one that he
really wanted to go to bed with anyway.

Next,
much as it bothered him to admit it, he had enjoyed his young hosts. Clay's
sculptures were impressive. Patrick was a natural at soccer. They were smart
boys. He had liked telling them about his business.

Then
there was the revelation of his hostess. In her own surroundings, Kate's veneer
of self-containment melted considerably. Randall had noticed the way she
brushed her fingers through Patrick's hair or lightly squeezed Clay's shoulder.
She had scratched Gretchen's ears anytime the dog came near her. The first sip
of the quite respectable wine had made her close her eyes in overt pleasure.
This
was the woman who had seduced him
on his own terrace. Randall swore as that thought brought on another physical
reaction.

He
turned his thoughts in a less incendiary direction. Based on Patrick's artless
conversation and the circulation of Kate's resume, he concluded that she was
having financial problems. Randall considered how easy it would be to solve
them: he had so much money he could write a check and never miss it. However,
he couldn't just hand Kate money. She wouldn't take it.

He
was inventing and discarding less direct ways of getting money into her hands.
He had passed out enough diamond bracelets and earrings in the past that a
Tiffany's salesperson sent him personal letters. Of course he had never done it
with the intention of improving his lovers' economic status. In fact, he had
never given a moment's reflection to their economic status...

He
banished that train of thought as he downshifted to roar up the curves to his
mountaintop. Usually, when he was pissed off, he would work it out in the
swimming pool, but right now that reminded him of Kate looking like some silent
screen goddess in her black bathing suit. She undoubtedly thought that she was
dressed conservatively, but she had way too many curves to look anything but
sexy when she was wearing wet spandex.