Home for Love (14 page)

"Kind of addictive, isn't it?" she commented, and led him out of this last store. He blinked, glancing around in the sunlight. He still didn't look quite himself.

"Lord," he said, "are we ever going to find that damn clock?"

Kate knew that drastic measures were called for.

"Look." She pointed to a cable car that was loading up with passengers. "You probably haven't ridden on one yet, have you?"

"No… I can't remember if I bought that model train set."

"Yes, you did. I think you'd better come with me."

It was a wild ride. The cable car was jam-packed, and Kate and Steven clung to the outside.

His arm came around her protectively. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he murmured against her hair. She didn't tell him that she'd been hanging out of cable cars practically since she could walk. Instead she nestled a little closer into the circle of his arm. They plummeted toward the Hyde Street Pier. Usually this sweeping view of the bay took every bit of Kate's attention. Today, however, she was attuned only to Steven's nearness. The shining blue of the water, the tang of salt air, the carefree dinging of the cable-car bell—all colors were blurred, all sounds muted as Steven's lips moved over her temple. His arm tightened about her, bringing her closer still. And then the ride was over. He swung off first and waited for her. She looked down into his eyes as she took his outstretched hand. They walked with their arms bumping companionably, and Kate gave herself over to the joy of being with him. Surely this once it couldn't hurt to let down her defenses. Why, the beauty of the day practically demanded it! The weather was San Francisco summer at its best: bright and warm but not too hot, the lightest breeze stirring around them.

Together they wandered into the Maritime Museum. Kate showed him her favorite model sailing ship, so painstakingly crafted she could almost see it cresting an ocean swell.

"Now I know why you had to buy a model ship for the mantel," Steven said, squeezing her hand. "I'm glad you did."

She led him to the exhibit of figureheads—extravagantly painted wooden ladies who were always ready to lift up their skirts and go sailing off into the spray. And there was a scrimshaw collection, fanciful carvings whittled out of whalebone by long-dead sailors.

"I've always loved these carvings," Kate said, sighing. "I can picture so vividly the men who created them. But I feel terribly sorry for the whales."

"You have a tenderness for all living things, Kate. It's one of the things that makes you so special."

She smiled at him, relishing his words. But she had one more thing to show him—the picture of hundreds of ships abandoned in the bay when all their crews deserted for the gold fields in 1851.

"This is still the city of romance and adventure," Kate told him. "It has been ever since the gold rush days."

"I believe it," Steven said. His fingers caressed the nape of her neck, and she found she wasn't able to think very logically.

She managed to find the way outside again, and they went to lean over a rail, admiring the old schooners and tugs docked at the pier.

"I always used to wish I could take off in one of those ships," Kate said. "I wouldn't care where I ended up— wherever the waves wanted to take me. China, Japan, Australia."

"I think I'd like to buy a boat someday," Steven mused. "A small oceangoing one I could restore. You're right—that's adventure."

They didn't talk for a time, enclosed in their own magic, even though a crowd milled around them. Kate turned and looked at the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge rising majestically beyond. The moment was perfect, a gift of beauty.

Steven put his arm around her, his hand warm on her shoulder. "Kate… I have an idea about Far Horizon, and I want you to listen to it."

"Not now, Steven! Please—"

"We've had such a good morning," he said. "We should be able to talk sensibly about this now."

She stiffened. "I was right, then," she answered. "This was a new strategy of yours. You thought you'd get me in a good mood by shopping for a clock. You probably don't even want a grandfather clock!"

He looked harassed. "It was your idea to begin with," he said. "Remember?"

"But the way you canceled your appointments today… You had something in mind, some way to soften me up." She was rigid with indignation now. Steven maneuvered her around so that she had to face him.

"Listen to me, Kate," he commanded. "Believe it or not, I
am
capable of spontaneity, especially where you're concerned. You… do something to me."

She stood at arm's length from him, unable to trust his words.

"Blast it all, Steven Reid! You planned all this. Don't try to deny it. I was really beginning to think today was special. That we could be together without you trampling all over me."

"Lord, you do have a gift for exaggeration," he said. "All right, I thought it wouldn't hurt for me to be a little more flexible and spend some time doing things your way. But I didn't stay up all night hatching a plot. I just had an urge to see you. Is that so hard to believe?"

She didn't care what he told her, or how he tried to explain it away. "You're worse than my own father!" she exclaimed. "At least
he
never tried to charm my mother. He was always his grumpy old self, barking out orders and expecting them to be obeyed."

"I wasn't trying to charm you, Kate—"

"Well, you did a darn good job of it, anyway. You had me going there for a while. Too bad it all backfired. You spent a whole lot of money on furniture you didn't want—just so I'd melt in gratitude and do anything you said."

He brought her toward him and she had to plant both hands on his chest to keep a distance. He scowled down at her.

"You're right, I didn't want two lamps that need rewiring or a treadle sewing machine that won't treadle. But I saw the way you looked at all that junk—like you'd just discovered an ancient Egyptian tomb. So I bought the damn stuff! I got carried away. How much criminal intent can you read into that?"

She was trembling inside, wanting to believe that the morning had been special for him, too. A time to be with her and savor her company, nothing more. She took a deep breath.

"Prove yourself, then," she challenged. "Tell me right now that we won't talk about Far Horizon or Gloria Nestor, not once the whole rest of the day."

His eyes were stony now. "I'm not going to try passing a test for you, Kate. I told you the truth. On the spur of the moment I decided I wanted to spend some time with you. And yes, I thought it would help our relationship if I showed you I could give a little, too. But I've come up with a compromise on Far Horizon and you're going to listen to it now."

She kept her hands splayed across his chest, resisting him. But he held her captive with little effort.

"Gloria already has a client who wants her house redecorated," he said. "It's supposed to be one of your first assignments, but I think I can convince Gloria to put it on a trial basis. You'd find out how you like working for Far Horizon before actually signing on. Nothing could be more reasonable."

It
was
reasonable, and Kate found that especially irritating. She relaxed her vigilance for a moment, arms slackening as she tried to think of a rebuttal. Steven took advantage of this, his own arms tightening around her until she was cradled against him.

"I'm only asking you to do an experiment with Far Horizon," he said next to her cheek.

"I won't—I won't agree to anything under these cir…" His mouth was leaving a trail of flickering heat across her skin, and she couldn't think straight. A balding man with wire-rimmed spectacles looked on with interest, fingering his camera.

"We make a good picture together," Steven murmured in her ear. "And I'm handing over all the money you need, don't forget. I'm living up to my end of the bargain and you have to do the same. Say cheese."

She clenched her fists, but they were wedged securely between her body and Steven's. She arched her head back and stared at him.

"You have me entirely under control, don't you?" she asked bitterly. "But that's all I'm giving Far Hori—a trial, just like you said. Nothing more!"

Steven released her, but not before the camera had clicked. It was a Polaroid, and a moment later the man handed Kate the photograph that had scrolled out of it. He peered at her over his spectacles.

"Have a good day, miss." He walked off jauntily.

Kate looked down at the photograph as the colors deepened. There she and Steven were, locked in what appeared to be a lovers' embrace. But they were glowering at each other, and that ruined the effect somewhat.

Kate didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe she should be doing both, because it was preserved forever now—this moment of capitulation to Steven.

Kate climbed the ladder to Steven's attic, grumbling to herself. Everything was moving too fast with Far Horizon, for once again Steven hadn't wasted any time. It was only yesterday that he'd forced Kate to agree to a trial, yet he'd already arranged everything with Gloria. Just now he had telephoned from his office to inform Kate that her first command performance would be this very morning: she was to be at a certain address on Nob Hill in precisely two hours. Kate had banged down the receiver in his ear again.

She had only a few hours of liberty. She knelt before the clothes chest, lifting up the lid and taking out the burgundy ball gown. She had brought along a generous supply of tissue paper, and carefully began wrapping the gown to protect it. Her hands lingered on the soft folds; she remembered clearly the way Steven had kissed her here. The emotions of that day had not dissipated, but still clung to the musty, closed-in air. Already she and Steven were building too many memories together.

Kate fished the Polaroid photograph out of her pocket and held it up to the light. She looked at Steven's rumpled hair, his obstinate jaw. He was staring at Kate as if the very force of his gaze would compel her to submit to him. His sleeve was rolled up above the elbow, showing the strong muscles of his forearm as he held her close.

Kate's fingers tightened on the photograph, ready to crumple it. But she knew that wouldn't do her any good. Even if she cut it into a hundred pieces and threw them all away, Steven would still dominate her thoughts. She tucked the photograph safely back into her pocket.

The other dresses in the chest required her attention. She smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could, wrapping each gown in tissue. It was an enjoyable task and she stretched it out as long as possible. Toward the bottom of the chest she found a strand of pearls, a mesh evening bag, and a book with a plain blue cover…a diary. She controlled her eagerness as she opened it, for the pages were brittle and coming loose from the binding. An inscription was written in ornate script on the flyleaf: "To Eliza Rose on her eighteenth birthday—fill this book with your happy dreams." It was signed Aunt Sarah.

Oh, this was treasure indeed. Eliza Rose—surely that was Eliza R. Hobbes. Kate sat cross-legged in front of the one small window so that sunlight would stream across the diary. Her gabardine trousers would be all grimy now, but she didn't care. Dust motes settled around her as she began to read.