Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) (7 page)

“This was…unproductive.” Kate reached for her briefcase, snapping it closed. She looked up at him, keeping her face impassive. “I think it would be best if we communicate via e-mail from here on out, don’t you agree?”

“Fine,” he said, trying to keep his brilliant green eyes flat and bored, but unable to hide the churning of emotion just below the surface.

Why did she have this strong, inexplicable feeling that he was somehow harboring hurt feelings too? It didn’t make any sense. If he had snapped his fingers back then, she would have defied her parents and run to him, but he couldn’t even be bothered to write back to her. Thirty unanswered letters had broken
her
heart. He wasn’t the victim here, she was. She shoved her misguided intuition to the side and stood, extending her hand.

“I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, but—”

Just then, Étienne’s office door opened with a whoosh. Kate turned to see J.C. and Barrett enter the room, both looking frazzled.

“You’ve probably figured out the same thing we have: the oil rig portion of the company is in violation of anti-trust laws when added to the production of Harrison-Lowry,” announced J.C., raking a hand through his hair. “It constitutes a monopoly. You two need to head down to Louisiana next week and find a buyer for the rigging business, or we’ll be held up in arbitration by the U.S. government indefinitely.”

Damn it
, thought Kate,
I missed it.
She’d been so distracted by Étienne, she had missed a potential pothole in the deal.

Chastising herself, Kate slowly turned her head back to Étienne, who leaned back in his chair and smirked.

“
Ça va
. New Orleans in the spring? How delightful,” he said, his soft French accent like silk. She read the challenge in his mocking eyes—he was daring her to refuse the trip and trash the deal.

Kate raised her chin at him in defiance and turned back to Barrett, making a silent promise to herself that her unfinished business with Étienne wouldn’t jeopardize this deal again.

“Business is business. When do we leave?”

Although she wasn’t supposed to, Kate had let Weston ride ahead on his own, then slipped down from her own horse and grabbed the reins so she could make her way more leisurely on the section of the bridle path that abutted the Rousseau property. Flicking her glance at the house every few feet, but trying not to be obvious, she walked slowly with Stewart nickering his disapproval from just behind.

“I. Am. Ridiculous,” she said softly to the brown pony after five minutes of walking without a glimpse of human life.

“I. Am. Étienne,” said a laughing voice from behind her.

Kate gasped, spinning around so fast she dropped Stewart’s reins and almost landed on her butt.

“Where di…how long have you been…?” She reached down to pick up the leather strap, treating him to a wide-screen view of her derriere in her haste.

“Following you?” He looked meaningfully at her backside then grinned at her, his lips turning up slowly. “Long enough to sing the entire song ‘Baby Got Back’ in my head.”

Kate gasped, her eyes widening as she processed his unflattering words. She turned away from him as her cheeks flushed. “You’re a jerk.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Well, they’re right.”

“Here’s the thing, though…I suspect your ass really isn’t as huge as it looks in those jodhpurs. They add six inches on each side.”

Kate started walking again, ignoring the burn behind her eyes. Her body shape was, and had always been, a source of insecurity for her, though she’d never met anyone who’d pointed it out in such a bald, offensive way. It’s not that she was fat; she just wasn’t super skinny like most of the girls she knew. Her breasts and hips had developed earlier, giving Kate a more womanly look that made her stick out a little from her peers.

“Umm…did my words somehow convey to you that the size of your ass bothers me?”

She turned on the heel of her riding boot to face him, face hot, eyes furious. “You know what? I couldn’t care less if it bothers you.” Swinging back around, she started walking away briskly. “And stop following me!”

“Because it doesn’t,” he called from behind her.

Kate spun around to face him, placing her hands on her hips as her larger-than-average breasts heaved uncomfortably against a thin white T-shirt. But as she processed what he’d just said, indignance was slowly replaced by confusion and she felt her brows knit together as she stared at him.

“It doesn’t
what
?”

His eyes flicked to her lips as he took a step forward. Then another. Then another, until he was so close to her, she could smell him and he smelled like men’s shampoo, which pretty much smelled like heaven.

“Let me put this another way…As far as I’m concerned, the size of your ass,” he said slowly, eyes still locked on her lips, only lifting at the final second, “is perfect.”

The flush that had started in her cheeks suddenly spread into her scalp, down her neck and shoulders, resting over her breasts, then sliding like warm honey to her belly.

“Oh,” she murmured.

He shrugged, offering her an adorable smile as he raked a hand through his floppy hair. “What can I say? I’m an ass-man.”

He started walking again, and Kate took a deep, ragged breath, trying to fill her lungs, before hurrying to fall into step beside him. Had he just insulted her or complimented her? He’d somehow managed to call her fat-assed and perfect at the same time, which was sort of mean, but sort of amazing. With Stratton’s words from this morning—
steer clear
—still resonating in her head, she had to admit she was fascinated by him: he was edgy and teasing, brooding and provocative, crazy handsome and way too sexy for a teenager. Just being near him was making her body hot and shivery at the same time. There was no way she was cutting bait yet.

“Where do you go to school?” he asked conversationally once she’d caught up with him.

“Trinity Prep.”

“In Manhattan?” He turned to her with slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re not from Philadelphia?”

“Just visiting,” she managed.
Me and my fat, perfect ass.
“Where, um, where do you go to school?”

“St. Michael’s,” he said. “With your cousins.”

“Yeah, that’s what Stratton said.”

“Asking around about me, huh?”

“No! No, I-I just…I mentioned that I met you. Last night. On the trampoline.”
On the trampoline? Really, Kate?

“I wasn’t actually
on
the trampoline,” he pointed out.

No, you were barefoot and beautiful beside it.

“Are you friends with Betsy?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know her from summer camp.”

“So, I bet you’ve heard a lot about me.”

No, actually. Kate had never heard of him until last night.

She twisted her neck to look at him, her breath catching at the sight of his profile staring straight ahead as he walked beside her. His skin was pale, which made his long black lashes look extra dark and thick. His cheekbones were chiseled and manly, making him look much older than fifteen, and when Kate’s eyes dropped to his lips, she felt another rush of heat in her belly.

“Um…heard like, um, what?”

“Like I don’t have girlfriends,” he informed her, his voice confident and cool, like he was a college guy or a character in a movie. “I have flings.”

Whoa.

No, Betsy had definitely not shared this shocking, riveting bit of information with Kate. It seemed like an awfully bold thing for him to tell her, but Kate couldn’t help the way it made her feel—all nervous and excited and suddenly out of breath. She had to work hard to control the whimper that lodged in her throat, threatening to squeak free.

“F-flings?”

“Mm-hm,” he purred, and was it her imagination, or was his toe-curling French accent getting that much thicker? “In fact…I’m looking for one this week.”

“A fling.”

“Mm-hm.”

His shoulder brushed into hers and it made her heart pump so fast, so loud, she wondered if he could hear it too. “Oh.”

“What are
you
looking for this week, Kate?”

She stopped walking, handling the leather strap as she looked up at him earnestly. Kate knew she wasn’t as cool as he was, nor, she suspected, anywhere near as experienced. She wasn’t even totally sure he was kind, but from the moment she saw him last night, he’d zoomed up her list of the most intriguing, captivating people she’d ever met. And all she wanted was to spend her week scratching through that pseudo-cool, smooth, flippant, smirky exterior and discover what was underneath. At a loss about how to say all of this without appearing psycho and desperate, she deferred with,

“I don’t know.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Because it kind of seemed like you were looking for me, too.”

Her breath hitched again, but then something occurred to her. She lifted her eyes to his, a more confident smile spreading her lips. “Wait.
Too
?”

His cool façade slipped, and the smile he answered her with wasn’t smirky at all. It was simple and sweet, and maybe even a little sheepish—just a teenage boy grinning at a teenage girl who’d inadvertently managed to make him slip up in his game of “too cool for you.”

When she was little, Kate had a pair of blue and red lensed glasses, and when she wore them to read a specially-encoded book, she could see messages that were invisible without the glasses. As she smiled back at Étienne Rousseau, Kate felt like she’d just slipped on those glasses. Suddenly she could
see
him: the hope in his expression, the hint of vulnerability, the whisper of longing. He was just as young as she, likely as nervous, possibly even as interested. She knew what she was looking at, because her heart was certain it was a perfect mirror of the way she was looking at him, and it gave her the courage to respond.

“You’re right. I was looking for you.”

He chuckled softly—happily—as he reached for her free hand, lacing his fingers through hers and sending a swift shot of something awesome straight to her heart.

“Now that you’ve found me, Kate English, whatever will you do with me?”

After such a disastrous
reunion
, er, meeting, Kate knew she needed to clear her head. The best option now that it had stopped raining was to walk the thirty minutes back to her office. Barrett tried to convince Kate to share a cab, but she handed him her briefcase and insisted on walking.

What the hell had just happened between her and Étienne? And how was she going to be professional when they traveled to New Orleans together? They could barely remain civil in the same room for fifteen minutes. And she’d missed a crucial pitfall of the merger, which made her hunch her shoulders in shame. Still, the worst of it was that they’d had to schedule another face-to-face meeting to discuss how to unload the oil rig portion of the company, and while she was grateful for the home-court advantage of having the next meeting at her office, it meant that they wouldn’t be able to confine their communication to e-mail only.

Kate needed to figure out a way to handle herself before Wednesday, but she was at a total loss. There was only one solution. Fishing her phone from her purse, she speed dialed her best friend, Libitz.

“KK! ‘Sup?”

Kate smiled instantly, picturing Libitz like she was standing right there on the wet sidewalk beside her: dyed black hair in a super-short Twiggy cut to match her super-skinny Twiggy body. Super-big, dark brown eyes dominating her elfin face, and some super-chic, barely there lip gloss shipped from Paris, because New York had nothing that would “do.” In short—no pun intended, although Libitz was also super-short—Libitz was, well,
super
.

“Lib, it is
so good
to hear your voice.”

“I’d say the same, but I know that voice. Tired, upset, and…yep. Tears. I hear ‘em. Who needs a good pounding?”

Kate’s eyes watered as she burst into a giggle. Libitz weighed in at a cool one hundred and five pounds, which meant that she couldn’t “pound” anything more than a house fly. Lib looked so cosmopolitan and cool on the outside, her deep, protective streak always surprised people who didn’t know her, but Kate knew from experience: Lib was fierce when it came to the people she loved, and Kate ranked high on that list.

“Étienne Rousseau,” she said, shaking her head at her own stupidity.

“Wait!” exclaimed Lib.
“Who?”

“Étienne…um, I don’t know if you remember, but —”

“
If I remember?
Spring Break ‘03. Believe me, KK, I remember. I was there for the months upon months of tears.” Lib paused for a second. “What I don’t understand is why I’m hearing his name now.”

“My company’s doing a deal with his, and I just…saw him.”

“Oh my God. That’s huge!”

“I know. Hugely awful.”

“How does he look? Horns sprouted yet?”

Kate chuckled again, swiping away the one tear that had gotten away. “Nope. As hot as ever, I’m afraid.”

“I gotta say…this is
interesting
, KK.”

“It’s
not
interesting. It was a disaster. He was rude and jerky, and smiley and he said he always loved my curves and I could barely speak and he asked me about Tony, and I told him Amy was smart for dumping him and he told me my letters sucked.” Kate shook her head, sighing deeply. “Dis. Ass. Ter.”

“Totally lost. Start at the beginning.”

Kate told Lib all about Barrett’s deal with J.C. on Saturday night, and how Kate was actually the one who insisted on following through with the merger.

“Stop there,” said Lib. “How come?”

“Because it’s good for business. It’s a solid opportunity and I’m not going to let—”

“Errrrh,” interrupted Lib, making the sound of a game show buzzer. “I’m calling bullshit.”

“Lib, you know I’m serious about business.”

“Yeah, I know. But, this guy trampled your heart. I can understand you
grudgingly
agreeing to do the deal to be professional, but you just told me that you
insisted
on doing the deal, which means”—she hummed thoughtfully—“you wanted to see him.”

Kate drew her bottom lip into her mouth.

“Stop chewing your lip,” said Lib. “Why do you want to see him?”

No sense in lying to Lib. She’d know.

“I thought it would help me get over him.”

“I sort of thought you
were
over him.”

“I
was
,” said Kate glumly. “But moving back here stirred up all these old memories and I don’t know…I can’t stop thinking about him and then I became friends with his sister on Facebook and—”

“Kathryn Grey English! You’re cyber-stalking him, aren’t you?”

Oh God. Libitz just knew her too well!

“Um…a little?”

“It’s all coming into focus now,” said Lib dryly. “Where does ‘Prince Tony, the Charming but Asexual’ fit into all of this?”

“That’s not fair. He’s not—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine. Just answer the question.”

Kate grimaced. She’d been talking to Lib about Tony for weeks now and Lib, who was apt to have sex against the wall of her apartment if a first date went well, couldn’t get her head around Kate and Tony’s chaste courtship.

“I mean, I sort of wanted to see Étienne. Yes. But just to verify that he’s a total asshole and convince myself I was over him so my runway would be free for Tony.”

“But does Tony
want
to land his plane on your runway?”

“Libitz!”

“Well? It’s a valid question. But here’s a better one…Do you want
Étienne
to land his plane on your runway instead?”

“Lib…” She wasn’t sure her face could get any redder.

“Press your always-abnormally-cold palms against your cheeks, Ice Cube. You’ll feel better in a sec.”

“It’s crazy freaky when you do that,” said Kate, laughing as she wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder and pressed her cool palms against her hot cheeks.

“I think I know you better than you know yourself sometimes,” said Libitz thoughtfully.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” answered Kate, a surge of homesickness making her eyes prickle. “
Please
tell me what to do.”

“Wish I could,” she answered gently. “But you’ve got to figure this out.”

“Okay, don’t tell me what to do…tell me what you
see
.”

“Hmm. Let’s see.” She could see Libitz nodding sagely as she took a deep breath. “You never got over Étienne. Possibly because he was your first, maybe because he disappeared, maybe because you loved him and just never stopped. Tony? He’s nice, Kate. But he’s a bookmark. He’s just a place saver until the real story continues.”

“I’ve dated other—”

“You’ve dated other guys? Yeah. You have. Where are they now?”

“Well, they didn’t work out. You don’t necessarily meet ‘the one’ while you’re in college, Lib.”

“Nor does it stand to reason that it’s impossible to meet him when you’re fifteen.”

“Étienne Rousseau was
not
‘the one,’” Kate huffed.

“Oh no? Because in one way or another, from the moment you turned your back and walked through that hedge, you’ve been looking for him. Truth, KK? I don’t know if he’s ‘the one’ or not. But I know you won’t find ‘the one’ until you settle up your history with Étienne. That story needs a firm and final ‘The End.’ Without it? All the Tony’s you ever meet will
only
be bookmarks.”

“I think you might be right.”

“It’s widely accepted that I’m a genius.”

Kate chuckled, feeling a little better. Even though she didn’t love Lib’s answer, she had to admit that she agreed with it. She needed to settle the past, find out why Étienne never wrote back to her, why he let her go, and if it all meant nothing to him. After she understood, she’d be able to box up her memories and kiss them goodbye. How exactly she’d manage it? She had no idea. But at least she had a better handle on the situation.

“True, true. You are brilliant, Lib. Enough about me. How are things with you?”

“Smashing. Glorious. Non-stop delight.”

“Still single, huh?”

“The demand for tiny, prickly, gallery-owning Jewish girls is so high I barely know how to keep up with the offers. But I’m not bored,” she added to let Kate know that she might not have someone important in her life, but she wasn’t lacking for company, either.

Kate grinned. “He’s out there, superstar.”

“KK, the eternal optimist.”

“There’s got to be an amazing guy for someone as awesome as you.”

Libitz laughed her throaty, smoky, rarely-heard chuckle. “If I held my breath, I’d asphyxiate.”

“Then don’t hold your breath. Just trust me.”

She could picture Libitz shrugging with discomfort. “I’m fine. I just hooked up with a cutie from Gaslight last night, and besides, I have my art to keep me warm.”

Kate looked up, surprised to find herself in John F. Kennedy Park, famous for its iconic sculpture by Robert Indiana. “Hey, Lib…what would you do if you were me?”

“With Étienne? I don’t know. I guess I’d either start writing the story again, or figure out a solid ending. It’s up to you.”

Her eyes burned as she whispered, “Love you, Lib.”

“Love you, K.” And she hung up.

As Kate slipped the phone back into her purse, she wondered if it was a coincidence that she was four blocks off-course, standing in front of an eighteen-foot high, bright red shiny sculpture of the word “LOVE.”

***

Étienne had tried very hard not to think about Kate English since their fiasco of a meeting on Monday afternoon.

He’d tried very hard not to think of her as he and J.C. spent Monday afternoon brainstorming possible buyers for the oil rig portion of Rousseau Shipping, and he refused to let her pass through his mind as he made himself dinner in his quiet apartment later that night. As he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he forced himself not to linger on the shape of her mouth and forbade himself to remember what those lips felt like beneath his.

On Tuesday morning as he showered his aching, frustrated body, he tried—unsuccessfully—to choose which of the women in his social circle he should pursue for a night of pleasure, only to have Kate’s face cock-block him at every turn, so he finally gave into the memories of her legs wrapped around his back and allowed himself some temporary manual relief.

Sitting at his desk as he reviewed the laws pertaining to corporate mergers in Louisiana, he tried not to imagine what Kate had been like in law school, quickly deciding she would have been serious and sassy at turns. Ten minutes later, he was thoroughly disgusted with himself when he realized he’d been staring off into space as he fantasized about the twenty-one-year-old version of her.

When Jax offered to book his travel plans, he desperately tried not to think about the fact that he and Kate would be staying at the same hotel for a night, but somehow his fingers reached for the phone, putting in a quick call to the hotel after Jax e-mailed the confirmation, and requesting that he and Kate were booked on the same floor.

Over and over again, he reminded himself she was seeing someone…and he was recently out of a bad relationship and had no interest in starting something new—or jumpstarting something old—with Kate English, of all people, but these reminders grew quieter as he barreled toward one distinct moment in time: the minute he would be in the same room with her again.

By Wednesday, it was clear that it had only taken one meeting with Kate for her to crawl under his skin again, so he gave up on trying not to think about her and forced himself to consider instead what it was he wanted.

Beside the fact that he wanted her fickle, dismissive heart pounding against his as he drove into her over and over again, he wanted answers. Why hadn’t she given him the benefit of the doubt when her cousins informed her of the incident with Alex? Did she truly believe he would ever, even in the wildest, stupidest version of himself, say such ugly things about
her
? He and Kate hadn’t only shared their bodies with each other; they’d shared their ideas, their hopes, their thoughts and dreams. He’d given her his heart, for fuck’s sake. How could she possibly believe he’d betray her like that?

The answer came swiftly. Because she’d loved her cousins more than Étienne. Because she trusted them more. Because ultimately, she would always choose them over him, and the truth be damned.

Well, whether she wanted to know the truth or not—whether or not she’d even believe him—he was going to tell her exactly what had happened with Alex that Monday morning at St. Michael’s, and he was going to make damn sure she listened. After all these years, he still had a right to clear his name, whether or not she wanted to hear it.

So, aside from wanting to fuck her, he wanted answers and he wanted a reckoning.

Then what?