It was a lover's night, velvet-dark and sultry, with
silvered moonlight and the intimacy of midnight stillness
that invited temptation and seduction.
But Katerina Whitcomb-Salgar wasn't with the man she'd
professed to love and had intended to marry. She'd left him
behind, another woman in his arms, along with the confidence
that there were certainties she could rely on, and at the
top of the list was that one day she'd be Mrs. Tate McCord.
Instead, she was on her way home with Tate's older brother
and wondering what the lingering revelers at the party
they'd abandoned were making of that. More strongly, she
questioned herself and what had prompted her to accept his
unexpected invitation to escort her to her doorstep.
Katie looked sidelong at Blake McCord, covertly studying his
profile in the dim shifting glow of passing cars and
streetlights. He and his brother shared the same dark blond
good looks, but Blake's arrogance and focused resolve, the
qualities she'd defined him by over the years, showed
clearly in the lean, hard lines of his features. He and Tate
were so different, almost oppo-sites; nothing about him
should have attracted her.
Yet here she was, alone with him and conscious of an edgy,
almost nervous energy that was both unfamiliar and unsettling.
"You're very quiet," he said, in a low voice that filled the
silence in the car and betrayed no emotion except polite
concern.
"I'm sorry, it's been a long evening." It had nearly been an
evening at home. She'd considered making her excuses about
attending the lavish Labor Day party at the McCords' Dallas
mansion, especially days after she and Tate had broken their
engagement, knowing people would be talking, speculating,
asking questions. But backing out simply to avoid a few
uncomfortable hours seemed cowardly so she'd put on a little
black dress and a smile and walked in alone. Except she
didn't remain alone. Blake, oddly enough, had spent the
majority of the time at her side, attentive in a way that
was almost protective. He'd even made a point of getting her
alone for a few minutes to ask for her version of her and
Tate's broken engagement and how she was handling it, then
made his offer to take her home early.
He briefly glanced her way. "No apologies necessary. Seeing
Tate with someone else can't have been easy."
"No, but not in the way you mean," she told him honestly.
"It's more my having to make explanations to everyone as to
why we broke things off."
"He hurt you—"
"I told you before, at the party, it's not like that." Katie
sighed, not sure how to explain her feelings any more
clearly than she'd tried earlier. Blake wasn't a man who
inspired confidences. Unlike Tate, whom she could easily
read, she was never quite sure what Blake was thinking, what
emotions lay behind the cool, aloof face he presented to the
world. That he was Tate's brother—longtime friend or
not—made this whole conversation, their being together at
all, strange and more than a little uncomfortable.
She repeated the assertion she'd made to him the first time.
"A marriage between Tate and me wouldn't have worked. We've
both known it for a while now. I care about Tate, I always
will. But there wasn't any… passion between us."
"You were lovers."
Katie felt herself flush, glad for the covering darkness.
"It's not the same thing. Neither of us ever felt compelled
to be together. There was never anything overwhelming about
what we felt for each other."
"That sounds like Tate talking," Blake said tightly.
"You seem determined to blame him. But believe me, it was a
mutual decision. I'm just feeling a little… lost, I guess.
Tate and I were together for so long. It's the starting over
part of this that isn't easy."
She didn't expect Blake to understand. In all the time she'd
known him, the women he'd dated seemed nothing more than
accessories to him, the obligatory beautiful and
well-dressed companions for the social events he attended
and, she assumed, casual lovers. Against her long-term
attachment to Tate—cultivated by their families from
childhood—Blake would have no basis for comparison.
"It may have been mutual, but as far as I'm concerned, he
treated you badly. He never appreciated what he had in you.
All those years you were together, I wouldn't have called
him faithful or even considerate a good part of the time.
You didn't deserve that."
The underlying anger in his tone surprised her. She wouldn't
have pictured Blake in the role of her defender and yet she
had the impression this wasn't the first time he'd voiced
these opinions, probably to Tate. It left her more confused
about who he was and what she wanted.
The conversation lagged the remainder of the ride and the
short walk from his car to the front door of the Salgar
estate Katie still called home. Awkwardness took hold, at
least on her part, as she hunted for the conventional
courteous phrases to release him from any further obligation
to her and finally end what had been several taxing hours.
"Thank you for bringing me home," she said. "It was nice of
you to take the trouble."
He was looking at her with an odd expression she couldn't
decipher. "It was hardly the chore you're making it out to be."
"I appreciate it all the same." She hesitated before adding,
"Good night, Blake."
She expected an echoing rejoinder and him leaving. Instead
he let several moments pass before reaching out and tracing
his fingertips over her cheek.
His touch, gentle and unexpected, hitched her breath. "Blake…"
Under any circumstances, she wouldn't have anticipated him
touching her like this, let alone taking it further. But
when he did, she couldn't think of a reason he shouldn't.
She couldn't think at all.
He moved closer and, drawn by the intensity of his gaze, she
matched him until they stood lightly pressed against each
other. Bending to her, he brushed her lips with his, the
barest touch at first. It teased her senses, giving her a
taste of the wine he'd drunk, a hint of his heat, the spicy
scent of his cologne. She returned the caress in kind,
testing the novel sensation of his mouth on hers and finding
the scant feeling more enticing than an intimate kiss.
After long seconds, Blake broke the tentative contact to
look at her, as though gauging her and his responses.
Whatever he saw apparently made up his mind and he slid his
hand around her nape, threading his fingers into her hair,
bringing her closer at the same time he slanted his mouth
over hers.
If he had been aggressively passionate, she would have found
him easy to resist. But his kiss, slow and sensual, with a
depth of tenderness she never would have guessed he
possessed, had her melting into his arms, yielding to a rush
of desire so intense that what she'd felt when Tate held her
suddenly seemed pale in contrast.
It was impossible. This was Blake. They couldn't—
and it didn't matter because she was kissing him back, her
hands on his shoulders, his free hand splayed low on her
back molding her body to his, and her world in that brief
time narrowed to him.
She might have given into temporary madness and allowed her
feelings to seduce her into inviting more intimacy than a
few kisses, but Blake didn't give her the chance. Almost
abruptly, he stepped back from their embrace and from his
slightly stunned look she knew he'd been as caught off guard
as she by the feelings he'd exposed.
He half raised a hand as if to touch her again then let it
drop. "Good night, Katie," he said softly.
He left her in the pool of light on her doorstep, watching
him stride away and fighting the urge to call him back….
"Katie?"
Slim fingers waved in front of her face, jolting Katie back
to the present.
Her assistant, Tessa Lansing, stood at her side, with a
handful of papers and the twitch of her lips threatening to
become a grin. "I've got the information on those grant
proposals you wanted but it looks like you're somewhere else
a lot more interesting than here. Whoever he is, he must be
somebody special."
"I was just thinking," Katie said quickly, sure her face was
as red as Tessa's bobbed curls.
"I got that. But that look on your face begs the question
about whom?"
Coming from anyone else, the blunt curiosity about her
personal life would have been irritating. Tessa, though, was
a friend and after eight years of working closely together,
helping Katie in her position as administrator of the
Salgar's charitable foundation, there wasn't much about
Katie's moods that escaped Tessa's notice.
"No one in particular," she said lightly.
Tessa eyed her over the top of her glasses. "Right. I've
never seen you look like that even when you talked about
Tate. Sorry," she added at Katie's small frown, "I'm sure
that's a sore subject right now."
"I am getting tired of everyone assuming Tate dumped me for
Tanya Kimbrough or that I left him because he treated me
badly and that either way, I'm devastated."
"Oh, I see," Tessa teased. "You're saying you dumped him for
the guy that makes you all dreamy-eyed."
"No, and I wasn't all dreamy-eyed. Let me take a look at
those," Katie said, taking the papers from Tessa to change
the subject.
But the subject—Blake McCord—was no more easily dismissed in
her thoughts than he was in person.
Nearly a week had passed since that kiss that shouldn't have
happened and she should have forgotten. Except she couldn't
forget, and forbidden or not, she couldn't rid herself of
the restless, indefinable longings he'd stirred up in her.
If things were different, she would have avoided him until
she could sort out the tangled mess that was her feelings
these days. But she and Blake were the primary planners for
the Dallas Children's Hospital's major annual fund-raising
ball, and at this phase of the preparations, she couldn't
limit their contact to phone calls and e-mails without
compromising efficiency.
In fact…she glanced at her watch. In a few hours, because of
the scheduled hospital board meeting, they would be in close
company again. She didn't know what to expect, from him or
herself. Would he pretend it never happened and nothing had
changed between them? Or—and this was the more daunting
option—would he want to confront it, either dismissing it as
a moment's impulse or acknowledging it was something more?
Uncertain how to answer herself, Katie was less sure which
alternative made her more uneasy.
Blake McCord stared at the electronic display of times and
dates telling him where he was supposed to be today, not
really seeing the neatly plotted schedule, but instead
having an all-too-real vision of disaster.
He was fast running out of time. Unless he could pull off
the risky scheme he'd devised to rescue McCord Jewelers,
there might be little left to salvage from the wreckage of
the family fortunes. There was no question about his
determination to succeed. But he didn't like the odds that
the entire plot would blow up in his face and leave him with
an even worse situation.
Wishing for other options was a waste of time. He'd
committed himself to carrying this through, despite the
dangers. There was no going back.
"This is becoming a bad habit with you." Seated at the head
of the table, Eleanor McCord frowned at the brief glance her
oldest son gave her in acknowledgment. "I don't know why you
bother coming to meals anymore. It's obvious that business
has all your attention."
"I'm sorry," Blake said shortly. He put aside his BlackBerry
long enough to finish off the last of his coffee, wondering
at the same time why he did bother. This morning, in
particular, he should have avoided a breakfast tête-à-tête
with his mother in favor of the relative solitude of his
office. He had enough on his mind these days without adding
family issues to the mix. "I'm juggling a number of things
and they're all priority at the moment."
Eleanor didn't respond at once but instead studied him. "You
never share your responsibilities," she observed after a
moment. "I can't remember a time when you allowed yourself
to share the load."
"That would be because they are my
responsibilities. Besides, It's not like anyone has
exactly begged me for the opportunity."
"Perhaps, but nonetheless, I'm concerned about the effect
that whatever this latest crisis is having on you. I don't
think I've ever seen you quite as irritable and distant as
you've been these past few weeks. I'm assuming the situation
with the business is worse off than you've been saying. Or
is it something else?"
"It's nothing you need to worry about." The lie came out
smoothly.
"It's not that, so much," Eleanor said. "I'm worried about you."
"That would be a first," he retorted, immediately regretting it.
Under other circumstances, he would never have let his
feelings slip. But things between him and his mother had
been more tense than usual since Eleanor had revealed that
an affair twenty-two years ago between her and Rex Foley,
patriarch of the rival Foley clan, had produced Blake's
youngest brother Charlie. That her late husband, Devon
McCord, had apparently never known Charlie wasn't his son
hadn't made Eleanor's confession any easier for her four
other children to accept. What with the weight of being
solely liable for the family business's survival or collapse
coupled with the knowledge of his mother's betrayal, Blake
silently admitted his temper was more than a little frayed.
It was straining all his relationships, but particularly
those with his family. He and Eleanor had never shared a
warm, close bond, but her admission had severely tested the
link there was.
Still, he hated his inability to keep his emotions in check.
Shoving them aside, he made an effort to backtrack.
"Everything is fine, or will be soon. I just need a few more
weeks to straighten things out."
Eleanor's raised brow telegraphed her annoyance. "I'm not
stupid, Blake. I know there are problems. Your father's
spending habits were hardly a secret. Sometimes I still find
it hard to believe how much money he managed to go through
in a relatively short time. I know he didn't do the business
any good, and with the retail market the way it is, McCord's
must be suffering."
"If there are problems, I'll take care of them," Blake said,
getting to his feet, deliberately ignoring the familiar
criticism of his father. He, better than anyone, knew how
many millions Devon had squandered on maintaining the lavish
lifestyle he thought he was entitled to. "I always do."
"Blake—"
"I have to go. I have a full schedule and a board meeting at
the hospital this morning," he explained referring to his
seat on the board at Dallas Children's Hospital.
"Will Katie be there?" Eleanor asked.
At the mention of his brother's former fiancée, Blake
retreated further behind carefully constructed indifference.
"I would assume so. She is a board member."