Heather Graham (9 page)

He was carrying a shopping bag, which he now extended toward her. “Your purse, shoes, and some white hairy thing that I assume to be a coat,” he told her laconically.

Katie took the bag from him, careful not to touch his fingers. “Thank you,” she said, ignoring his amused jibe. She walked past him to set the bag on the dresser and pull out her purse. “If you’ll just give me a second, I’ll switch my things into my leather shoulder bag.”

“Take all the time you need,” he told her.

Katie started transferring her belongings from one purse to another. She noticed inadvertently that he was watching her when she caught his eyes on hers through the dresser mirror.

“Where are we going?” she asked politely. “There are so many things to do in the area.”

He appeared to be a little startled by her question. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything really touristy. I’m sorry, maybe you’d like something like that? We
could
go to Fisherman’s Wharf—”

“No, no,” Katie protested, “whatever you’ve planned is fine. I—I’ve been here before.”

His smile was a little crooked. “Come to think of it, the day just might be a little touristy. I think I’m taking you to the most beautiful spot along the California coast—and there are many.”

Katie made sure she had her notebook and a number of sharpened pencils. “It sounds wonderful,” she murmured.

Then she looked up into the mirror again. His eyes were still on her, catching hers in the reflection. His arms were idly crossed against his chest, but it seemed that his entire stance had stiffened. It was as if Kent were looking at her but seeing more than her.

Then she understood, because she felt ripples rake through her, like hot, sweet oil filling her body. The bed … the unmade bed … stood between them, and she suddenly knew that he was imagining the two of them there, just as she was.

Her breath seemed to catch as heat flared in her cheeks, and she was ridiculously frightened that she was going to lose all strength and melt to the floor. Her heart skipped and pelted, and her fingers froze at their task. She could not tear her eyes from his; nor could she stop herself from wondering, from longing to know, just what it would be like to feel all the sensual things taking place in the picture in her mind, things that were reflected in the midnight fire of his eyes.

How long did she stand there? She didn’t know. At last she wrenched her eyes from his, straining not to cry out, as if he had indeed held her physically. She dropped a lipstick and her compact, but at least she had freed herself from his magic gaze. Did he clear his throat, or did she just imagine it? Or had she imagined the whole thing? They had to get out of the room.

Kent stepped around the bed, walking to her. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’ve got everything,” Katie said quickly, and to prove it, she hurried ahead of him to the door, not looking at him as she threw it open and preceded him into the hall. “We’d better get going, I guess,” she added nervously.

He followed her out. Katie started hurrying down the hall.

“Shouldn’t you lock the door?” he asked her.

“It, uh, locks automatically,” she responded over her shoulder.

He was right behind her, pressing the button over her shoulder. They stepped into the elevator.

It seemed very small. She could suffocate in a place this tiny, Katie thought. She still couldn’t look at him; she didn’t really need to. He wasn’t ten inches away, and every breath she took held his pleasant, masculine scent. He shifted from foot to foot; she could feel the power of his muscles as he did so, sinewed thighs, broad chest, arms that surely rippled with that slight movement …

It was hot in the elevator. She closed her eyes, and the most ungodly daydream invaded her mind: the power failing; and the elevator stopping between floors, trapping them together in the small heated space. She would fling herself at the door at first, praying for rescue and release, but it wouldn’t come. And he would tap her on the shoulder, and she would turn around, and she would see that look in his eyes again. A look that stripped her and tossed her upon an unmade bed with rumpled and inviting sheets. Suddenly, she would forget everything; everything that stood between them, the absurdity of wanting a man she hardly knew so badly … Just as his look stripped her of clothing, it would dissolve her sense and logic, and she would cry out, flinging herself into his arms. Bared of all lies, she would admit that she couldn’t understand it, but she wanted him … to touch her, to teach her … to show her what his love could be about …

The elevator door slid silently open and she opened her eyes, startled.

“Katie, ground floor,” Kent murmured, taking her elbow.

She didn’t know whether to laugh at herself or die with the embarrassment that filled her mind.

“Sorry,” she replied. “I—I guess that I was wandering.” Did he hear it? Did he hear that she could barely breathe?

He led her out of the elevator, and she took a deep, stabilizing breath. There were people milling about the lobby, and suddenly she was totally bemused. Kent was an attractive man, no more, and, dear God, she would never throw herself at anyone, much less in an elevator!

She managed to smile at him—and herself—as he led her through the lobby and out the front door. His sports car was driven up by a valet, and they were shortly weaving their way out into traffic.

Katie gazed at him then, having completely retrieved her natural poise. “Where are we going?”

“Along Route 1. Have you been there?”

“Yes, but it was years ago.”

“Well,” Kent responded, “perhaps it will almost be new to you then. As magnificent as the first time.”

As magnificent as the first time.
The words seemed to echo in her mind. The first time … magnificent.

She stiffened in her bucket seat and rolled down the window. The wind rushed in to tangle her hair and cool her face.

“Would you mind if I ask you questions while you drive?” she asked.

“No.”

“A few of them will be just for the record,” Katie said a little apologetically. “You’re thirty-six, right?”

“Right,” he replied blandly, his eyes on the road. “My birthday is June twelfth; I understand that means I’m a Gemini … No, I’m not at all into astrology … I graduated from UCLA … Yes, I went to summer school to qualify early for the draft. I was picked up in the second round by Pennsylvania—mainly because I was given such a buildup by their first-string quarterback at the time, Dante Hudson. That was almost fifteen years ago. But then you know that, don’t you?” He shot her a glance that glittered with hostility, then returned his gaze to the road. “And I’m sure you know about my birthday and my college and lots of other trivia. You’re the type to do your homework well. I’m also certain you know that I was married once, that I have a thirteen-year-old daughter. You probably know where I live—even the brand of jockey shorts I buy. It’s all on record somewhere—and reporters are great at snooping out the records. So you still want an article. Well, you’ve already got your facts, so what you really want is a ‘How does Kent Hart
really
live?’ article. How has he managed to stay alive all these years? Does he eat Wheaties? Live entirely on organic foods, or secretly survive on yogurt? You’re not going to get that in a morning. What you will get is my decision on just how far we’re going to go with this.”

He glanced at her quickly again, and she could feel his hostility. What was it about the man? she wondered furiously. He could cause her to imagine the most erotic flights of fancy and then turn around and make her imagination run to a new picture, one of herself throwing ice water in his face, then attacking him with an iron spike just for good measure.

“Your decision on how far we’re going to go?” she gasped out, her anger causing her voice to rise. “Dammit!” She stared straight ahead, clenching the seat with both hands to maintain control. “What the hell is this? You told me you’d give me the interview—that’s supposedly what we’re doing. That’s what you said last night. That’s what—”

“I said I had some time this morning. I also said it might not be enough but that you could get what you could. Well, that’s true. But the interview is going to start with you—not me. And when I get some of the answers I want, so will you.”

Katie locked her teeth together hard. What kind of a game was this? Didn’t he know what last night had cost her? They should have just been able to sit down today—remotely, distantly—and gotten the whole interview over with; it wouldn’t take that long.

“What about me could possibly interest you?” she muttered irritably. “I assure you I’ve led a boring life. I—”

“You’re missing the scenery,” Kent interrupted. She watched him as he gazed into his rearview mirror, put on his blinker, and carefully maneuvered off the road to a wide shoulder set there by the state of California just for viewing pleasure.

Kent opened his door; Katie did likewise.

She hadn’t been paying much attention to the scenery. Now she couldn’t help but do so. To her right was the road, with higher cliffs rising behind it. To her left—very, very close to her left—was nothing. No railing, just a sheer drop-off.

Kent lifted a brow. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No,” Katie replied. She stepped around the car and stared up to the cliffs, then down to the lashing waves far below them.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Kent asked her softly. And she knew that he meant it; there was a wistful quality to the deep male cadence of his voice. And when his voice touched her, she felt and saw it all, too. The sheer crystal beauty of the sky, lightly touched by drifting white clouds, soft and elegant. The jagged cliffs above and below them with their rugged majesty. The sparkling, shimmering clash and lulling thunder of the waves, rising, soaring, falling … far below.

“Yes,” she murmured. “It’s a lovely spot.”

He gazed at her a second, then laughed. “Lovely? No, ‘lovely’ means … soft, delicate. This is … powerful. It can be ‘beautiful’ and ‘grand,’ but ‘lovely’?” He moved fluidly behind her, resting one hand on her left shoulder, leaning his elbow on her right shoulder to extend his arm past her nose and point out to the water. “Look, Katie. Far out. Do you see them?”

“See them?” she murmured. His words, his breath, were brushing her cheeks, the lobe of her ear. She felt his hardness close behind her and found it almost impossible to remember that they were incapable of talking for more than ten minutes without flaring into an argument.

“See what?” she asked. The sky was melding into the water; oddly, she could see nothing but a shimmering haze.

“Whales. Two of them—right out there. See? One has just surfaced.”

Yes, she could see it now, far off in the distance. The huge, gentle sea creature, a part of the natural magnificence of the scene, rose with a gushing fountain of water that caught the sunshine.

The great creature fell back into the water. Kent chuckled behind her, and a tingling sensation played havoc with her spine.

“Here comes his mate,” he told her, and sure enough, a second whale seemed to leap straight up and out of the water, spout a gusher to rival Old Faithful, then fall back with a shimmer of sun-created golden sparks.

“They look so small from here,” Katie murmured, awed by their graceful magnificence.

“They’re immense,” Kent replied. “It’s just that we’re so far away.” He released her shoulder and turned back to the car.

Katie kept staring at the water for a minute. She shivered; without him the cool breeze seemed to sweep right through her sweater. She hurried back to the car.

“How was that for a tourist treat?” he asked, turning the ignition and easing back to the highway.

“That was something,” Katie replied.

“Are you a nature lover?”

She glanced his way uneasily, sensing there was more to the question than his casual tone might indicate.

“It depends on how you mean that. I like hills, trees, water, pretty flowers. I’m not particularly fond of insects, snakes, or mud pits. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just because I preferred to carry on our little—interview—alone.”

“Oh?”

He glanced her way quickly, expertly steering the small car along the curving road.

“I thought we’d have a picnic. Any objections?”

A picnic? “No,” she replied, hoping he couldn’t sense the uneasiness in her voice. “Yes. I’m the reporter, and you’ve just informed me that I’m going to be the one going through the third degree.”

He grinned a bit deviously, she thought. Or maybe it wasn’t a devious grin, just a sardonic twist of his mouth that indicated he was one tiger not about to be pulled by the tail. Katie gazed out the window to her right, pretending to watch the scenery. She had known yesterday, and then again last night, that she had strayed into dangerous waters. She didn’t seem able to flirt her way around anything with him; she did nothing but singe her wings at any attempt to manipulate him. As Sam Loper might say, the old Cougar had been around a long time; no woman was going to wind him around her finger.

“I think it’s fair, don’t you?” he queried.

“No,” Katie stated flatly. “I’m not a public figure.”

“I don’t intend to make public any of your statements.”

She didn’t answer him. They continued to ride in silence for several moments, then Kent startled Katie by pulling off the highway onto a narrow dirt path she would have never recognized as being any kind of road. The small car bucked against the incline, increasing Katie’s nervousness. But Kent seemed to know what he was doing; he coaxed the car along, then instead of ascending, they began descending.

She gazed his way suspiciously. “Are you sure we’re headed for a picnic ground?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Well, trust me—this once anyway. Don’t you have any sense of adventure? You’ll never make it as a reporter if you don’t.”

“Oh, my sense of adventure is just fine. However, I don’t consider myself suicidal.”

He smiled. The path kept descending. There were pines all around them, then Katie noted a break in the pines. They were almost right on the ocean. Sandy beaches were strewn with massive rocks; cliffs and sand and colorful scruff bushes seemed to blend into one another.