Judith McNaught (57 page)

"I thought," Katherine said chokily, reaching for a tissue and dabbing at her streaming eyes, "that you'd gone upstairs to pack your bag so you could leave my revolting presence."

Wrapping her in a fierce hug, Julie whispered,

"You're still my best friend." Then she let her go and moved to the opposite end of the sofa, blowing her own nose.

After a few minutes, the two girls faced each other, wearing sheepish smiles and dabbing at the last of the tears lingering in their eyes. "What a mess!" Julie said.

Katherine blew her nose. "What an understatement!"

With a wobbly smile, she added, "I think what we both need is two weeks at my parents' house in St.

Barts. Can you plead exhaustion from your ordeal and get Duncan to give you a short leave of absence?

We'll forget all about men and toast ourselves in the sun. What do you say?"

Drawing her knees up against her chest, Julie wrapped her arms around them and perched her chin on

her knees, "I say," she decreed, "that you'd better stay right here if you intend to win Ted back before it's

too late. He's seeing a lot of Grace Halvers, did you know that?"

Katherine nodded at the mention of the beautiful red-head. "I found out from Mr. Kealing when I took some laundry there last week because my parents'

washing machine was broken. Can you guess what he

said when he saw me?" When Julie shook her head, Katherine provided miserably, "He looked at me like I was a useless child and said, 'How many husbands are you going to have before you finally figure

out how to use a washing machine?' And then,"

Katherine added, "he said, 'I'll bet Grace Halvers won't

make Ted Mathison do the laundry and shopping and cooking if she's lucky enough to get him. Nor will Sue Ellen Jury if she beats Gracie out of the running.'"

Julie frowned in thought, then shook her head.

"Despite what I said about Ted and Grace a minute ago, I

don't think Ted
ever
intends to remarry."

Instead of being reassured, Katherine seemed to wilt with guilt. "Ted should be married to someone, even if it isn't me. He was the sort of sexy, tender husband that most women only dream of having for their own. It would be a crime if he never remarried.

He was impossible to dominate or manipulate, which drove me crazy when I was young, but he was incredibly gentle, and on those occasions when I had enough sense to simply ask for what I wanted, instead of trying to demand or wheedle, he was amazingly willing to bend or yield." A note of wonder crept into her voice as she lifted her gaze to Julie's

and finished, "We may have been terribly mismatched in a lot of ways, but we were in love with each

other within hours of when we met. It was like—like spontaneous combustion."

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"The two of you still have that," Julie teased, trying to cheer up her friend. "After watching both of you tonight, I think it's safe to say that you are still a highly volatile combination. Poor Carl," she chuckled, "he

looked like he wanted to leap for cover when you two started sparring with each other. And you know what?" she finished seriously. "For Ted to react so strongly to you, even in a negative way, he must still feel something for you."

"He does. It's contempt," Katherine provided. Sadly, she added, "If Ted won't give me anything else before I give up and go back to Dallas, I have to find a way to earn his forgiveness. I don't know how I'm going to do that. For one thing, he avoids me like the plague."

Julie flashed her a smile as she got up and began to stack their dishes onto the trays. "I think I can be of assistance there. How about helping me out after school with our handicapped sports program? I need volunteers who are willing to get mowed down by wheelchairs and tripped by flailing crutches on the football field and gymnasium floor."

"It's not exactly in line with my art degree, but it sounds wonderful," Katherine joked, picking up one of

the trays and walking with Julie toward the kitchen,

"and I accept the offer. Now, what idea did you have to prevent Ted from avoiding me?"

"That was it. Ted works with the kids two days a week—sometimes more often. And I could really use

your help teaching my ladies to read. You won't
believe
the satisfaction you'll get from that."

In the enormous kitchen, Julie put down the tray on the stainless-steel countertop then she turned to look around at the commercial cooktops and ovens that were used for the senior Cahills' famous parties.

Preoccupied, she didn't realize that Katherine was standing close behind her until the other girl said softly,

"Julie?" When she turned, she found herself wrapped in a tight hug. "I've missed you so much!" Katherine whispered fiercely, hugging her tighter. "Thank you for keeping our friendship alive with your letters and phone calls and the visits you made to see me in Dallas. I wanted so badly to tell you the truth about my

marriage to Ted, but I was always afraid you'd hate me if you knew."

"I could never hate you," Julie said, hugging her.

"You're the kindest, sweetest person I've ever known."

Julie pulled back and rolled her eyes. "Right," she teased.

"You are," Katherine persisted. "I used to want to be just like you."

"You're lucky you didn't succeed." Julie said, her face sobering as she thought of Zack. "If you were just

like me, you'd have gushed all over Ted tonight about how much you love him, and then he'd have walked all over your heart and sent you home."

Katherine started to say something sympathetic, but Julie

who was suddenly and perilously close to tears, shook her head to stop her. "I'll be okay in a few days.

I'm tired now and my defenses are down, but I'll forget all about him and be just fine, you'll see. Let's call

it a night."

Katherine slid a pan of sourdough biscuits into the oven and glanced up in surprise as the intercom at the

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front gates began to buzz insistently on the kitchen wall. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Is this Miss Cahill?"

Pointedly ignoring that, she said, "Who is this?"

"Paul Richardson," the voice replied impatiently. "Is Julie Mathison with you?"

"Mr. Richardson," Katherine said darkly, "it is seven-thirty in the morning! Julie and I are still in our

robes. Go away and come back at a civilized hour, say eleven. I should think the FBI would teach its agents better manners," she added, then she gaped at the intercom speaker because she thought he actually chuckled at her reprimand.

"Uncivilized or not, I have to insist on seeing Jul—

Miss Mathison."

"And if I refuse to open the gates?" Katherine persisted stubbornly.

"In that case," he said drolly, "I'm afraid I'll have to blow the lock off of them with my trusty service revolver."

"If you do," Katherine said, irritably pressing the switch to open them, "you'd better keep that trusty revolver loaded, because two of my father's shotguns will be pointed right at you when you get here."

Cutting off any possible reply, she released the intercom button and walked quickly down the hall to the

library where she found Julie huddled in a chair watching the morning news. A picture of Zack Benedict

was on the screen and the expression of naked tenderness and longing on Julie's face as she smiled at him

made Katherine's heart ache. "Is he okay?" she asked.

"They do not have the slightest idea where he is,"

Julie announced with unhidden pleasure. Wryly she added, "They also do not have the slightest idea whether or not I'm still a suspected accomplice.

They

make it seem like my silence and the FBI's silence on the subject is practically an admission of guilt.

Are

you ready for me to give you a hand with the omelets?"

"Yep," Katherine said cheerfully, "however, we have an uninvited guest, who'll probably be joining us for breakfast. Such rudeness as his does not warrant our combing our hair or changing into street clothes,"

she said when Julie looked askance at her long yellow bathrobe.

"Who is it?"

"Paul Richardson. He thinks of you as 'Julie' by the way. He let that slip on the intercom and tried to cover it up."

The long talk they'd had the night before, combined with all the sleep she'd gotten, had greatly restored Julie's strength and spirits. "Just so he doesn't think of me with numbers across my chest," she joked as the doorbell began to peal. "I'll answer that," she said, tightening the belt on her robe.

Unceremoniously, Julie yanked open the front door, then stepped back in shock as Paul Richardson held his arms up and pleaded in a comic voice,

"Don't shoot. Please."

"What a delightful idea," Julie replied, but she was biting back a smile at his humor. "May I borrow your

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gun?"

He grinned, his gaze roving over the shining chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders, then shifting to her

bright eyes and soft smile. "A night's peace and quiet seems to have done you a world of good," he remarked, then his brows snapped together and he said sternly, "Don't pull another disappearing act like this one again though. I told you before that I want to know where you are at all times!"

Buoyed up by the television news that Zack was still safe, Julie accepted his reprimand without protest.

"Have you come to lecture me or arrest me?" she asked cheerfully, knowing instinctively it was the former, as she turned and walked with him down the hall.

"Have you broken any laws?" he countered as they entered the kitchen.

"Are you planning to stay for breakfast?" she evaded, heading for the chopping block in the center of the

kitchen.

Paul Richardson looked from Katherine who was breaking eggs into a bowl to Julie who was picking up

a knife and getting ready to slice into a green pepper.

Both women were devoid of makeup, clad in robes and pajamas, with their hair still rumpled from sleep.

They looked lovely, innocent, and utterly charming.

"Am I invited?" he asked Julie, grinning.

She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes searching his face as if she were trying to see beyond his skin and into his soul, and he suddenly wished there was more kindness and goodness there for her to see.

"Do you want to be invited?"

"Yes."

She smiled then, the first genuine, unstrained smile she'd given him, and it had a radiance that made his heart quicken. "In that case," she said, "sit down at the table while we fix you one of our special omelets.

We haven't made these as a team in a year, so don't expect too much."

Paul pulled off his jacket and tie, loosened the top button of his shirt collar and settled down at the table

while Julie brought him a cup of coffee and then returned to her tasks at the chopping block. He watched

them in silence, listening to their smiling banter, feeling like he'd somehow been admitted to a peaceful

kingdom ruled by beautiful fairies with tousled hair and long, pastel robes who joked about past events that enthralled him. Katherine Cahill was drop-dead gorgeous, he decided, while Julie Mathison was merely pretty, but it was Julie who drew his gaze and held it like a magnet. He watched the sun shining through the window, glinting on her hair, studied the infectious glamour of her smile, the softness of her skin, the astonishing lushness of her curly lashes.

"Mr. Richardson?" she said quietly without looking up

from the small white object she was chopping into tiny bits.

"Call me Paul," he said.

"Paul," she corrected.

He definitely liked the sound of his name on her lips.

"Yes?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

Paul lurched guiltily and said the first thing that came to mind. "I was wondering what that stuff is you're

chopping up." He watched one long, tapered finger point to what he now realized was an ordinary garlic
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clove.

"You mean this?" she asked, but she lifted her head and leveled an amused stare on him that made him feel like an awkward schoolboy caught cold in a transparent lie. "Yes," he bluffed. "That. What is it?"

He watched her lips form the smiling words and heard her say it ever so sweetly: "It's hemlock."

"Thank God. I was afraid it was garlic."

Her startled laughter rang out like music and when it ended, they were both smiling at each other. "You have a beautiful smile," he said quietly as she returned to her task.

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and quipped, "Just the thing to set me apart in the FBI's mug

book, don't you think."

Paul's smile faded abruptly. "Has Benedict contacted you? Is that why you took off yesterday without a word to me and came up here? Is that why you've referred twice this morning to being arrested?"

She rolled her eyes at him and laughed, "You have an overactive imagination"

"Damn it!" he said, standing up and starting toward her before he realized what he was doing. "Don't play games with me, Julie! When I ask you a question, I want a straight answer." He glanced over her

shoulder at Katherine, "Would you mind leaving us alone?" he snapped at her.

"Yes, actually, I would. Do you honestly believe that Julie collaborated in that man's escape from prison?" she demanded indignantly.

"No," he bit out, "not unless she gives me a reason to change my mind. However, I'm not completely certain that she wouldn't protect Benedict from us if she could."

"You can't arrest her for something she hasn't done yet," Katherine pointed out logically.

"I have no intention of arresting her! In fact, I've done my damnedest to make certain that no one else decides to do that either."

Julie's startled voice brought his head around. "Have you really done that?" she asked him, her voice filled with gratitude and surprise.

Paul hesitated, feeling his anger being disarmed and defused by the expression in those eyes, then he nodded. "Yes."