Just Between Friends (O'Rourke Family 4) (7 page)

“Not when a guy like me marries a girl like you.”

“Huh.” Kate stumbled as she climbed back onto the road. Dylan wasn’t going to haul her into the truck like a caveman, so she hunched her shoulders and headed for the house. He could just creep along behind her.

“Hell.”

Dylan threw on the brake and strode after Kate. He didn’t know why he was so determined to pay for their household expenses, but it seemed important. The world probably thought he’d fallen into a plushy situation getting married to the heir of the Douglas mansion and the only child of Isabelle and Chad Douglas. He had to know, in his heart, that he wasn’t getting anything out of it.

It was ironic. In all the years he’d known Kate he’d never once thought of marrying her, and now everyone probably thought he was the worst sort of opportunist.

“Kate, wait.”

She kept walking, turning the last curve in front of the carriage house.

“Katydid, please don’t be like this.”

Dylan took her by the shoulders and turned her around. His breath went out in a rush at the confused pain in her eyes. What did she want? If only she’d tell him, then maybe he could do something about it.

He brushed a hand over her hair and sighed. She was so lovely, so young and untouched. He didn’t
want
Kate to know how nasty the world could be, but things could get ugly fast. As much as he hated admitting it, he might not be around to protect her.

“Baby, maybe it’s just pride, but I don’t want anyone thinking I married you because of the money.”

“Nobody that matters thinks that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But let me do this, because it matters to me.”

Kate opened her mouth, then closed it again, her gaze locked with his.

“For goodness’s sake. Are the newlyweds having their first dispute?”

The voice and question, so much out of the blue, shocked them both. In a single smooth movement Dylan spun around, putting himself between Kate and the man standing by the house.

“Who are you?” he asked bluntly. “And why are you trespassing on private land?”

“I’m—”

“It’s Richard Carter,” Kate said, evading his protective arm. “One of Grandmamma’s lawyers.”

“I’m not trespassing, I entered using the electronic gate control my client gave me before her death,” Carter murmured, his shrewd gaze moving back and forth between them. “I just thought I’d come by and see how things are going. Your grandmother was very concerned for your happiness, Miss Douglas.”

“She’s Mrs. O’Rourke now,” Dylan snapped, enraged.

How could anyone stand there and pretend Jane Douglas had given two hoots for her granddaughter’s happiness? The old witch had only cared about the family name and reputation, and now she was trying to run Kate’s life from the grave.

All at once he was glad he was helping Kate.

Nobody had the right to manipulate someone else’s life. There was nothing wrong with having money, but the Douglases were a bunch of spoiled rich people who’d never learned to do a decent day’s work or worry about anything except their own comfort.

But Kate was different. She cared about everybody. When it came right down to it, Katydid might be spoiled, but she was one of the nicest people he’d ever known.

“Ah, yes,” the attorney murmured, a faint light gleaming in his eyes. “As you know, Mrs. O’Rourke, I’ve been charged with executing your grandmother’s will and the attached codicils. Your birthday is coming soon, so I’ll need to see the marriage certificate to ensure the conditions have been met.”

“All right. Come inside and I’ll get it,” Kate said, sounding weary.

“No,” Dylan said firmly. “Mr. Carter doesn’t need to
come in. In fact, I think he can wait until tomorrow to see the certificate, or go look it up for himself. Our marriage is a matter of public record.”

“Mr. O’Rourke, I—”

“And you can give Kate the electronic gate key,” he interrupted. “She’ll decide who has access to the property and who doesn’t.”

The attorney’s eyebrows shot upward. “I should think you’d want to ensure your wife’s inheritance is secured.”

“My wife’s inheritance is of no concern to me,” Dylan said harshly. “I’d sooner turn the place into a city park, but if Katydid wants that old mausoleum, she can have it.”

“Is that what you were arguing about. The house?”

Dylan knew he was being baited, and he made an attempt to calm down. “Not that it’s your business, but we were arguing because I want my wife to use the accounts I’ve established for her. I’m a productive member of society, Mr. Carter. I intend to support my family. Katydid can use her own money for charity work.”

An odd smile crossed the lawyer’s mouth. “Most men wouldn’t care—”

“I’m not most men.”

“No, I can see that. Believe it or not, I do understand your feelings on the matter.”

Kate made an exasperated sound. “Nobody’s trying to understand
my
feelings.”

“I’m trying, sweetheart.” Dylan ran the back of his hand down her cheek and along her jaw. “Why don’t you collect the gate key from Mr. Carter, then get ready for my surprise.”

“Oh.” A light blush pinkened her cheeks. “It’s our
one-week anniversary,” she explained as she took the key control from the attorney. “We have…plans.”

Dylan watched as Kate climbed the steps. Her hips swung gently, molded by the sundress she wore. It was a pretty thing, with ties at the shoulders that a little tug would have unfastened quite easily…

With an effort he chased his thoughts in a different direction.

“You and Katrina have been friends for quite a while,” Mr. Carter commented.

Dylan tensed, reminding himself that Kate
did
want her family’s old mansion—God alone knew why—and that he’d married her so she could keep it.

“We met when she was almost five. My dad was their weekend handyman.”

“Hmm, yes. You also worked for the Douglases, at least until you were eighteen,” the attorney murmured.

“So you don’t think I’m good enough for her, because I used to be on their payroll. Is that it?”

“Only if you married her for the wrong reasons—I’m a working man myself, Mr. O’Rourke,” the other man said mildly. “I’m quite fond of Katrina. I only want her to be happy.”

“I want the same thing.”

After a long, searching look at Dylan’s face, Richard Carter nodded. “Yes, I believe you do.”

Dylan’s feelings were mixed as he escorted the attorney to the front gate. Despite everything, he thought Richard Carter actually
was
fond of Kate. But he was also charged with carrying out the conditions of Jane Douglas’s last will and testament. If he suspected the
marriage was just for show, who knew what kind of trouble he could make.

“Interfering old bat,” he muttered as he strode down the hill to get his truck. Jane Douglas was not his favorite person. In fact, except for Kate, the entire Douglas family was on his blacklist.

The bottom floor of the carriage house had never really been modernized. The expansive area that had once sheltered horse-drawn vehicles had changed little over the years. Even the far corners were dusty, filled with cars the Douglas chauffeurs had once babied before newer automobiles were acquired and moved into the main garage.

There was an early Daimler, a Bentley, even a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, and Dylan shook his head as he pulled his truck into the space by Kate’s battered Volkswagen. It was practically a crime to park that beat-up Beetle next to those old classics. Maybe if it was restored it would be okay, but not looking that way.

He’d have to do something about her car. He wanted Kate driving something that didn’t look like it was held together by nothing more than chewing gum and paper clips. In fact…Dylan looked more closely at one of the windshield wipers and saw there actually
was
a paper clip holding it together.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He scowled and pulled his toolbox from the back of the truck.

“What are you doing?” Kate asked as she came downstairs.

“Fixing this. What mechanic ripped you off, claiming the damn thing was repaired?”

She grinned. “Nobody ripped me off—I fixed it myself.
I was late for a meeting and it was raining, so I just twisted the paper clip around that thingy and it worked fine.”

“Why didn’t you take it to be repaired later? Jeez, Katydid, you need a keeper.”

Kate’s smile faded as she contemplated kicking Dylan right in his scrumptious rear end. “It works, and it’s perfectly safe.”

“That’s what they said about the Titanic—right up until she sank.”

“My car isn’t the Titanic.”

“Maybe not, but I’m getting you a new VW. This thing isn’t fit to take out on the street.”

Her jaw dropped, then she scowled. “I don’t want a new car. I like this one.”

“Don’t tell me it has character. Character can get you killed.” Dylan kicked one of the tires and the hubcap fell off. “See what I mean? Whatever sentimental attachment you have to this hunk of junk isn’t worth it. You can turn it into a planter if it’s that important to you.”

“Fine, but I’ll buy my own car,” she snapped.

He just gave her that stony-faced look he’d perfected all week and didn’t say anything else. Drat him. The only time she’d been able to get near Dylan was at his mother’s house, and he’d only permitted it then so no one would know the truth about them. And now he was high on his pride and dignity, especially with her grandmother’s lawyer coming to check up on the legitimacy of their marriage.

She could just scream.

“Dylan—”

“Forget it, Kate. I told you the way it’s going to be.” She glanced around the garage and got an idea.
“Fine, but only if you take one of the cars Grandmamma left me. Take your pick.” Her hand waved, encompassing the shadowed interior of the garage.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Not a chance. Those cars are worth a fortune. Besides, trucks are my speed, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She grinned mischievously and he gave her a wary look. “So maybe you’d like the one over there.”

Kate walked to the far corner and Dylan couldn’t help following. Pure curiosity, he told himself. He had to find out what mischief she was planning; it was one of the reasons Katydid still seemed like such a kid to him, she was always up to something.

With a flourish she pulled the tarp away from the prettiest old truck he’d ever seen. Built no later than 1910, it was shiny black beneath a layer of dust and seemed to be in perfect condition.

“No,” he said automatically, though a part of him wished he could take the thing apart for the sheer fun of working on something so old.

“If I let you buy me a car, then you have to take this one,” she told him.

Dylan twitched the tarp back into place and faced Kate. He could afford to buy an antique truck for himself if that’s what he wanted, and he wouldn’t accept this one as payment for acting the way a husband was supposed to act. Never mind that he didn’t feel like a husband. Their marriage certificate said otherwise.

“Kate, I’m not accepting something so valuable, and that’s that.”

“Then I’m not accepting another car, either.”

She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Dylan rubbed his throbbing temples. Damn, she was stubborn.

And so much for things working out easily. Their arrangement was becoming more complicated than he’d ever expected, starting with the moment he’d said, “I do.”

A
couple of weeks later Kate stumbled out of her bedroom, yawning tiredly. It was hard to sleep knowing Dylan was still annoyed with her over the car and the credit card thing.

Huh.

He was mad because she didn’t want to spend his money. There was something almost comical about that.

Of course, she supposed a man’s pride wasn’t anything to laugh at, especially when it was Dylan’s pride. He had the most stiff-necked attitude. She should have known he’d get worked up about her family’s money, particularly with them living on the Douglas estate, rather than a place he was paying for.

Yawning again, Kate started a pound of bacon frying on the stove. She wanted extra for Dylan’s sandwiches that day, to add variety. The amount of protein
he ate made her shudder, but she supposed he worked so hard that he burned it all off.

And now he was coming home and working on the carriage house all evening, installing electric doors on the garage and getting building materials delivered for the work on the apartment above.

Double drat.

Her cozy little home was going to get a lot less cozy once he was done.

A little later, as she put Dylan’s sandwiches together, Kate heard his bedroom door open. She hastily cracked several eggs into the frying pan and dropped bread in the toaster.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” she called.

Dylan came in, fastening his shirt. “You don’t have to cook for me. I don’t expect it.”

He said that every morning and evening, and like every other time, she shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

His face was grim. “At least you should wear something a little less…that is, something more suitable for cooking.”

Perplexed, Kate looked down at her nightshirt. Was there supposed to be suitable clothing for cooking? Her parents’ and grandmother’s cooks had worn uniforms, but that was silly. “What’s wrong with this?” she asked.

“For one thing, there’s nothing to protect your skin,” Dylan growled. “Your legs are completely bare.”

“Not really. See?”

She plucked at the silk nightshirt, pulling it higher. Her legs weren’t bare, the shirt went halfway down her thighs. She’d thought about buying something really revealing to tempt Dylan and demonstrate she was quite
grown-up, but she hadn’t found the time, or the nerve. In the meantime, her nightshirts would have to do. Besides, she wasn’t doing anything unusual. She always wandered around in whatever was comfortable.

“For God’s sake, don’t do that!” Dylan growled.

“Do what?”

She wanted to scream. Why was he such a bear? He snapped at her more and more as the days went by—like the time she’d come down to the garage to say good-night. Instead of saying good-night himself, he’d snarled at her, saying she should get decently dressed before going outside. And that was the most he’d said the whole evening. She’d done everything she could think of to make things easy and comfortable so he wouldn’t be inconvenienced by their marriage, but it wasn’t enough.

The back of her throat ached. It was the same feeling she always got when the people she loved weren’t satisfied with her best, or ignored her, or didn’t approve. Maybe it wouldn’t be any different with Dylan. Maybe love
wasn’t
enough to make everything work out, no matter how much you wanted it to.

The pan on the stove crackled and Kate spun around.

“Oh, no.”

The eggs were brown, burned beyond redemption.

She grabbed the frying pan and shoved it in the sink, but the careless action made the grease sizzle and pop onto her wrist. She stifled a cry and pressed the burned spot to her mouth, not wanting Dylan to know. He’d just say I-told-you-so, as if he knew everything and she was still a kid to be scolded.

“You have to put it in cold water,” Dylan said gently.
He swung the faucet to the other side of the sink and turned it on. “Give me your hand, Katydid.”

It was like all the times he’d rushed to her rescue and tears poured down her face. Things would have been easier if they’d stayed children, but they hadn’t. Why was it okay for him to grow up, but not her?

“I’m sorry it hurts. I’ll call the doctor,” he murmured.

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“You’re crying.”

Her heart was crying most of all, but she shook her head. “It just startled me. Your lunch is ready. Maybe you could pick up something on the way for breakfast.”

“You already have a blister.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

Dylan closed his eyes and kept Kate’s wrist under the running faucet. It was all his fault she’d burned herself, picking on her over those skimpy nightshirts. Even now her tight bottom was snuggled into his groin, reminding him of how little she was wearing.

He’d practically exploded when she’d pulled the hem up. Was she wearing anything beneath? He’d stopped her before he could find out, and now his less noble side was kicking him for being…noble.

It’s Katydid,
his better half reminded.

The child whose sweet, charming ways had gotten him into a heap of trouble when he was a kid himself.

The reminder didn’t help.

Thinking about Kate being grown up had never been his favorite subject, but it was hard to ignore with her traipsing around in nightshirts that revealed each womanly curve.

Like now.

He looked down and saw that her nipples had hardened, crowning her breasts and standing out against the thin silk fabric. Every detail was revealed as he leaned over her. Setting his jaw, Dylan forced himself to release Kate and step backward. The promise he’d made to her on their wedding night kept going through his head. There wouldn’t be any repeats of that damned kiss.

It was killing him.

“I’ll get some ice.” He took ice cubes from the freezer, wrapped them in a dishcloth, then hammered them into a flexible pad. “Here.”

Kate drew a ragged breath. “You’re going to be late,” she whispered as he wrapped the cloth around her hand.

“I’m the boss, it’s allowed.” Yet he was usually on time, and if he didn’t get out soon, he’d have more trouble than ever keeping his promise. “But if you’re certain you’re all right, I’ll get going. I want to get back early—we have the hospital fund-raiser tonight, right?”

“Yes, we should leave by six.”

It was one of Kate’s pet projects, for the children’s hospital, and it would be their fifth public appearance as husband and wife including Sunday meals with his family. He wasn’t looking forward to it since her snooty friends would be there, as well. On the other hand, the hospital was a good cause, and not every rich person in Seattle was a loss. Some of them were pretty nice.

Like Kate.

Kate was rich. Born rich and spoiled with every material belonging that could be showered on a child. And she still always thought about other people before she thought of herself.

“I’ll…uh, see you later,” he murmured.

Grabbing the cooler and thermos waiting for him on the kitchen counter, Dylan hurried out the door.

Despite his best intentions, Dylan arrived home late. He called out a hello and jumped into the shower to scrape off the inevitable layers of grime. The company had contracted to remodel several of the old brick-faced buildings in downtown Seattle, and plaster dust was a constant companion.

He was in the living room, struggling with his cuff links, when Kate came out. “Could you help me with these?”

Her nimble fingers made quick work of the links, which was a good thing. After spending the day with sweaty construction workers, Kate smelled so great it was tough keeping his hands to himself.

“By the way, I asked Kane to lend us his company limousine,” he said.

“Is something wrong with the truck?”

“No, but I don’t like valet parking.”

Her forehead creased. “You’ve never minded before.”

“We weren’t married before.”

She sighed. “I don’t care what other people think, and I thought you didn’t, either.”

Dylan blinked, surprised. “I don’t. But you’re getting enough flak because I’m your husband, you don’t need more because you arrived at a formal occasion in a Dodge Dakota instead of a limo.”

“Nobody that counts will think twice about how we arrive.” Kate planted her hands on her hips and fixed him with an intent gaze. “I mean it, Dylan.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, realizing
Kate was serious. She’d never minded going places in his truck, even when his truck used to be a twenty-year-old Chevy he’d rescued from the junkyard. Why would he think she’d changed?

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Kate went into her bedroom and dropped the robe she was wearing, then pulled her dress into place. Made of emerald green velvet, the gown swathed her body like a sarong, baring her shoulders and the upper slopes of her breasts. The gown fitted snugly until it reach her mid thighs, then fell in graceful folds to the floor. It was more risqué than what she normally wore, but being married to Dylan wasn’t normal.

“Kate?”

“Coming.” She grabbed the miniscule purse matching the dress and hurried into the living room. A strangled sound came from Dylan and she frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Kate glanced down at the green velvet, then up again. “Well, yes. I picked it up yesterday.”

“But that’s…are you even
wearing
underwear?”

She plastered a casual smile on her face. It would be nice if he felt possessive, but he was probably just shocked that little Katydid was wearing something so revealing.

“There’s only so much you can fit under a dress like this.”

He scowled. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Her skirt was tight enough to cause trouble climbing into the Dakota, and Dylan finally lifted her up with a
muffled curse. Her heart beat faster at the sensation of his strong hands on her waist, and she wondered what he’d say if she suggested he slide those hands up her legs, under the velvet, to check for himself if she was wearing anything beneath.

Dylan’s mood didn’t improve, so when they arrived at the banquet hall, she hesitated about playing the role of a happy new bride. If she pushed too hard she could lose any ground she might have gained.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” he muttered, disappearing before she could make up her mind.

“It’s good to see you, Katrina,” said a languid voice the moment she was alone.

Exasperated, Kate turned around. “Hello, Tilly.”

The platinum blonde smiled an artificial smile. Honestly. How could Dylan think she was friends with anyone like Tilly Haviland? The woman was an energy sponge, sucking up life from anyone around her.

“My goodness, imagine you having to run out and get married so quickly. No wonder you couldn’t invite anyone.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. She knew exactly what Tilly was suggesting. “Actually, it was a private family wedding, with only our closest friends. And since I’ve been in love with Dylan for years, it didn’t feel quick to me.”

Tilly’s jaw dropped. “But darling, he’s hardly your type.”

“Actually, he’s exactly my type. You know—hardworking, honest, reliable…
faithful.
”

It could have been a low blow since Tilly’s slouch of a husband was the complete opposite of faithful, but
Tilly played around even more than her husband. They deserved each other.

“I’m so lucky,” Kate continued in a blissful tone. “Dylan is the kind of man you can always count on. Of course, I understand if you’re a bit envious, he
is
incredibly sexy.”

The other woman’s lip curled. “Perhaps in a rough sort of way. Personally I prefer more polish in a man.”

That was it.

Nobody criticized Dylan, he was the greatest guy in the world, even if he drove her nuts. “Tilly, you’re such a—”

“I brought you a drink, darling,” Dylan said, sticking a glass in her fingers, then grabbing her elbow as if worried she’d resort to violence.

Tilly gave them a tight smile and drifted away more quickly than normal. Kate gripped the fluted glass filled with champagne and strawberries, fighting the temptation to go after Tilly and dump it down her silicone-enhanced cleavage.

“What was that all about?” Dylan asked.

“Stupidity. I think all that bleach she uses on her hair is frying her brain cells,” Kate said.

Dylan grinned. He’d heard Katydid defending him, and the sincerity in her voice had given him a warm, foolish feeling around his heart. “You can’t go to war because she thinks you married beneath you.”

Kate turned, an astonished look on her face. “You don’t understand. Tilly is jealous. She’s dissatisfied with her life and wants everyone else to feel that way, too. Most of the time I feel sorry for her.”

“But not tonight.”

“It’s different tonight.”

She obviously didn’t want to explain, and Dylan wasn’t certain he wanted to know why it was different. He was having enough trouble figuring her out these days.

Idly, Kate turned the stem of the champagne glass in her fingers, then took a sip. One of her eyebrows lifted. “This is ginger ale, not champagne.”

“I thought you’d prefer something without alcohol.”

Her lips pressed together. “You mean I’m not ready for adult beverages. I’ll be twenty-seven next week, not seventeen. When are you going to accept that I’m not a kid any longer?”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably, the question striking too close to home. Intellectually he knew Kate wasn’t a child, but in his heart she was still that little girl he’d first known, beautiful and elusive and untouched by the horrible things in life.

“You don’t like alcohol. Remember?”

“I…oh, never mind.”

All at once Kate smiled, put her free arm around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss. It took a moment to collect himself, then he glanced around, wondering who she was trying to impress.

“Who are you looking for?” she murmured.

“Richard Carter or one of his law associates.”

“I haven’t seen them.” She tugged on his collar and he leaned down. But instead of explaining, she kissed him again. This time he relaxed into it, tasting the strawberries from Kate’s drink and her sweet essential essence. His blood ran heavy, sinking low into his groin and desire dug claws into his self-control.