Read Between the Lines Page 11

  “Only playing a part?” Michael reached out and wound a piece of her ebony hair around his finger. “You missed your calling, then. You’re a hell of an actress.”

  She wanted to hit him because he was right. She lifted her chin instead. “I see lack of ego still isn’t a problem. You’ll never change, Michael.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He dropped his hand and held out his arm. “But there’s something to be said for knowing what you are. Don’t you think?”

  Katherine acknowledged that her comments—now and eight years ago—just bounced off him. But his, as always, sliced clear to her soul. “I think I’d like to get this over with.”

  He laughed and tucked her arm through his. “Careful, Katie, you don’t want to seem too eager. After all, I’m sure we’ll have to... pretend... often tonight.”

  Katherine’s stinging reply was cut off as they stepped into the throng of partiers.

  After an hour of trying to keep up with Michael, Katherine was ready for a quiet corner. She found that and a glass of ice-cold punch and gratefully melted into the woodwork. She took a long swallow of the drink—it was a refreshing combination of fruit juices, rum and sparkling water—and sighed. She’d forgotten how Michael thrived on parties... and how she hated them.

  She took another sip of the punch and frowned. Michael was the one with the acting ability. He deserved an Academy-Award nomination for the way he’d treated her over the past hour. He’d been solicitous, attentive...even loving. Her heart tripled its beat, and she pulled her eyebrows together and took another sip of punch. It had been as if... as if he really wanted to be her lover. Katherine smiled to herself. That was the silly imagining of a woman too used to deluding herself.

  “You have a lovely smile, much like the Mona Lisa’s. Shame to waste it.”

  Katherine jumped and the last of her punch sloshed over the rim of her cup. Luckily there wasn’t enough left to do any damage, and she mopped most of it up with her cocktail napkin. That done, she turned toward the man who had come up beside her. He was big and handsome, with thick, silver hair and bushy eyebrows.

  He was holding out a full glass of punch and wearing a contrite expression.

  “Sorry about that. Here, have another.” When she hesitated, he added, “Go on, I hate the stuff. My metabolism needs something with a little more kick.”

  Katherine returned his smile and took the glass. “Thank you. But you’re missing out, it’s delicious.”

  “Humph. That’s what the wife said.” He looked over his shoulder as if to confirm they were alone, then back at her. “Getting old is a pain in the butt. The wife won’t let me have cigars, whiskey or what she calls ‘fatty meat.’ You’d think when a man reaches his golden years he’d be allowed a little fun.”

  Katherine laughed and shook her head. “Golden years, my foot. And it sounds to me as if your wife loves you very much.”

  He snorted again but the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away. “So... you’re Michael’s woman.”

  Katherine choked on her punch, and he slapped her on the back. When she caught her breath, she looked up at him with watery eyes. “Have we met?”

  “We haven’t. Somebody needs to teach that boy some manners. Can’t even pay his respects to an old man on his birthda—”

  “You’re Sam Steele.” Smiling warmly, Katherine fitted her hand to his. “Michael has talked of you often. Happy birthday.” When he didn’t reply, just continued to inspect her with lively, curious eyes, she shifted and tried again. “It’s a lovely party.”

  He grunted, waving aside the pleasantries. “Parties are a pain in the butt, too. Besides, I’m not standing here to talk about watery punch or birthday parties. Let me get a look at you; you’re not what I expected.”

  Katherine smiled even as she felt heat climb up her cheeks. Sam Steele was gruff to the point of rudeness but she liked him anyway. “What did you expect?” she asked dryly. “A bimbo?”

  Sam’s bushy eyebrows shot up for a moment before he burst out laughing. “You’ve got a smart mouth for such a little thing. It would take a woman with a sharp tongue and a quick wit to get by all that boy’s blarney.”

  Her lips twitched in amusement. She suspected Mr. Steele had plenty of the blarney himself. “Thanks. I manage to hold my own.”

  Sam nodded his head in Michael’s direction. “I’m surprised Michael settled down at all.”

  Katherine followed Sam’s gaze. Michael’s face was animated and as he said something, the group of people gathered around him—the majority of whom were women—burst out laughing. She acknowledged feeling a twinge; she would be surprised, too, if it ever happened.

  “I’ve known Michael all his life,” Sam continued. “In fact, visited him and his mama in the hospital the day after he was born.”

  “Then you knew—”

  “His father,” Sam finished for her. “I grew up next door to Michael’s mother; our families were close. Never did understand what little Mary Sciame saw in Anthony Tardo. He was as wild as she was quiet, as worldly as she was innocent.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not completely true, Anthony was a handsome devil and such a charmer...just like Michael. I remember the day they met; Mary took one look and fell madly in love. There was never anyone else for her.”

  Katherine swallowed. This story was too familiar. “What happened?”

  “He got her pregnant and agreed—not without some help from both their families—to marry her. Never made much sense to me; they were the most unlikely couple. Of course, times were different.”

  The most unlikely couple. Katherine repeated the phrase to herself, lowering her eyes to her punch. Like her and Michael. After a moment, she looked back at Sam. “He walked out on them when Michael was six.”

  “It practically killed her. She was better off without him, though.”

  “Why?”

  He was never faithful, hardly ever home—a real rover. He even worked for me for a while, but it didn’t last.” Sam’s gaze strayed back to Michael. “I can’t believe how alike they are. Everyone always said so. Even Mary.”

  The fine hairs at the back of her neck stood up and Katherine tore her eyes from Michael to look back at Sam. “Pardon?”

  “How alike.” Sam gestured. “Michael and his father.”

  Katherine stiffened. “Excuse me—I never met the man, but I know for a fact Michael’s nothing like him. Michael cares about people and their feelings. He’s honorable and honest. He always has been.”

  Sam stared at her in surprise. “You’re right, of course. I meant how much they looked alike.”

  The color in her cheeks went from indignant to embarrassed—she couldn’t believe how she’d lashed out at the poor man. She shook her head. But there was something about what he’d said, something that plucked at her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The feeling wouldn’t go away, and she turned apologetically to Sam. “I didn’t know about the... resemblance.”

  Sam continued to look at Michael. “It was uncanny... it still catches us all off guard sometimes. We look at Michael and see Anthony at the same age. It became harder on Mary as Michael got older. Then when he started to run wild—” Sam stopped abruptly and shook his head. “That’s all in the past. I couldn’t be prouder of the way Michael’s turned out.” He was quiet for a moment as he turned and gazed at her. “I’m happy he chose you. Every man needs a woman who believes in him, who’s his champion.”

  Katherine didn’t lower her eyes. “I do believe in Michael. I always have.”

  “Speaking of how kids turn out... I hope Susi hasn’t been making a pest of herself.”

  Katherine coughed and almost spilled her punch for the second time.

  “You don’t have to pretend, I know about my daughter’s crush on Michael. I haven’t known what to do about it so I haven’t done anything.” He shot her a glance that was part amusement and part apology out of the corner of his eye. “I also know she’s a lot like me and ca
n be too... self-assertive. She hasn’t caused you or Michael any trouble?”

  Katherine thought of the things Michael had told her about Susi and drained her second cup of punch. “Of course not.”

  Sam chuckled. “A good liar can be an asset to a man in social situations.” He held out his arm. “May I have this dance?”

  “I’d be delighted,” she said, hoping a dance would work off the effect of the deceptively fruity punch. Smiling, she took his arm.

  Chapter 8

  Michael watched Sam lead Katherine onto the dance floor and frowned. What had that little scene when they’d first arrived been all about? He’d acted like an idiot, had done exactly the opposite of what he knew he should. He should have been glad she was angry with him, been relieved if she didn’t want him near her. He should have tried to convince himself they were just friends, that the other night had been no more than physical need, a release of sexual energy or two old friends fulfilling a forbidden fantasy. And the whole time all he’d been able to think about was touching her and proving their time together had been anything but any of those things. What was wrong with him?

  He turned his attention back to the woman standing to his right. She was a tall, willowy brunette who worked for the Register Star and was obviously interested in doing more with him than talk. Without interest, he mumbled an appropriate response to her question, then, unable to keep his eyes off Katherine, glanced back at her and Sam.

  She looked beautiful, he thought, his gaze roaming over her. Her mass of dark hair fell softly to her shoulders and brushed them as she moved; her skin was milky-white and flawless. He caught his breath as she tipped back her head to look up at Sam, the slender column of her throat arching with the movement. His gaze lingered on the enticing curve, and he imagined his lips traveling over the sensitive flesh until he found the pulse point behind her ear—he would stroke; it would throb.

  Swallowing hard, Michael lowered his eyes. Her dress was simple but stunning and skimmed her body, giving only hints of the tempting curves beneath; her one piece of jewelry was a delicate gold chain, its pendant a cross that played peek-a-boo with her cleavage. He tipped his head to the side. She wasn’t flashy or exotic or mysterious, nor was she anything like the women out of his past. She was small and soft and lovely—and she was his.

  Michael drew his dark eyebrows together. This was crazy; it had to stop. She wasn’t “his,” nor did he care if she was or wasn’t his type. It made no difference to him if she was the most beautiful woman in the room or if... He craned his neck as she and Sam moved beyond his line of vision. When he caught sight of her again, she was laughing. A twinge started in the pit of his stomach and spread. Michael silently swore. This whole situation had gotten way out of control. Now, along with every other man in the room between the ages of seven and seventy, he was jealous of an old and trusted friend.

  “I’d like to interview you at the bar. I’m doing a story on local college hangouts and the people who run them. I think Michael’s should be included.”

  Michael jerked his gaze back to the reporter. “I’m sorry—what were you saying?” Even as the woman started repeating herself, his gaze strayed back to Katherine. She was saying something to Sam and gesturing with her free hand as she did. Mesmerized, he stared at the movement of her fingers, then, realizing what he was doing, jerked his gaze away. Enough was enough. Starting now he was getting smart. No more fantasies that included sweat socks and flannel gowns, no more watching her like a protective lover and, for God’s sake, no more touching.

  He scowled as her laughter drew the admiring eyes of several men. “Excuse me, will you? There’s someone I need to talk to.”

  Without another glance at the startled reporter, Michael began to pick his way across the dance floor. When he reached the couple, he tapped Sam on the shoulder. “You old war-horse! Are you trying to steal my woman?”

  Sam delivered him a deadpan stare. “Seems to me when a man leaves his lady unattended like that, he deserves to have her stolen.” Sam whirled Katherine around.

  Michael narrowed his eyes and followed. “I’m cutting in.”

  Sam smiled. “Go tell strangers some more of your bad jokes. Katherine and I are having a fine time.”

  “A fine time,” Katherine repeated, laughing.

  Michael sent her a smoldering look. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes twinkling—she’d had too much punch. He supposed he should be grateful she had stayed away from martinis. Not feeling grateful at all, he tapped Sam’s shoulder once again. “I’m cutting in, old man, birthday or not.”

  “Old man?” Sam interrupted, stopping in his tracks and looking outraged. “I should have had you arrested when I had the chance!”

  Michael grinned. “Well, you missed that chance. Hand over my woman.”

  Sam returned the grin and released her. “To hand this flower over to a hooligan like yourself is—”

  “Put a lid on it, Steele.” Michael pulled Katherine into his arms. “They’re playing our song.”

  Moments later, Katherine and Michael were in the midst of the dancers. Katherine sighed and melted against him. She should have been angry; she should have been stiff in his arms; she hadn’t an ounce of resistance in her. It was the rum, she told herself. The rum, the too-warm room, the sultry music.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “‘Hand over my woman?’ Don’t you think that’s a little too macho, even for you?”

  Michael tightened his fingers. Katherine was so tiny his hands could easily span her waist; even when she was in heels he could rest his chin on the top of her head. She was petite, delicate, womanly. The primitive drive to protect and possess surged through him, and suddenly the memory of past pain and the fear of future ones disappeared until all that was left was the moment and its sensations. “No,” he murmured, pressing her to him.

  Her pulse fluttered, and Katherine raised her head so she could see his face. He met her eyes. There wasn’t laughter there or even the usual amusement. Instead, his dark gaze was hot and fierce. Fluttering gave way to breathlessness, and she dropped her eyes. She was imagining things. She had to be. Katherine squeezed her eyes shut. He was just making up to her for... He rubbed his cheek against her hair and her mind went blank.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  Even though she knew she should make light of the comment, she tilted her head coquettishly. “Not yet.”

  He laughed low in his throat. “Well, you do. You look soft and sultry, conservative and naughty.” He trailed his fingers across her shoulders. “When did you exchange the Coke bottles for contacts?”

  “Graduate school.” She cleared her throat and prayed for lucidity. The way he was looking at her was scrambling her brain. “I realized I was only wearing them out of...habit and—” she cleared her throat again “—because they made me feel safe.”

  “You were right,” he murmured. “If you’d changed sooner, I would have had to fight off every guy on campus.”

  Katherine took a deep breath in the hope that the oxygen would help keep her firmly planted in reality. It didn’t. “To protect the virtue of Saint Katie?”

  “No way. My motives would have been far more selfish.”

  His smile was wicked with possibilities, and practical reminders and good sense were lost as desire hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. Images followed—images of her and Michael, naked, impatient, straining against one another, searching with hands and tongues and... Katherine pressed her palms against the soft fabric of his jacket, the dizzying sensations sweeping over her.

  “You do crazy things to my head, Katie.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “Things I’d do best to ignore.”

  Katherine ran her hands up his lapels, her eyes meeting his. “Why?”

  “Because you’re dangerous,” he answered softly.

  The music quickened and Michael spun her around. She curled her fingers around his shoulders. “You used to like danger.”

&
nbsp; He laughed. “And you used to be shy.” When she blushed, he laughed again and touched a finger to her fevered cheek. “I’m glad this hasn’t changed. I was always intrigued by the way your skin could go from milk to rose to flame in a matter of seconds.” Her blush deepened. “Like now.”

  “The curse of my fair-skinned ancestors,” she murmured, feeling herself becoming pinker by the second.

  He leaned closer and pressed his lips to her ear. “I wish I could thank those ancestors. You blush charmingly in other places, too.” He nipped. “Places even more tempting than the ones everybody else sees.”

  Katherine breathed deeply and searched for something to say—something witty, something casual and sophisticated. But all she could think of were warm, rosy places and the reasons for them.

  “Isn’t there anything about me that you’ve always admired?” He found the pulse throbbing behind her ear and nuzzled it. “Anything you’d like to tell me about?”

  It took her a moment to gather enough breath to speak. When she did, her voice was thick. “Fishing for compliments?”

  “You bet.”

  She looked back up at him, drinking in his face. There were so many things: the way his dark hair curled wildly when wet; or the way his right cheek dimpled, just a little, when he smiled; or the way her name sounded on his lips when they made love. But all those things were physical, and what she admired about Michael went so much deeper than that.

  “I’ve always admired your ability to make friends,” she said finally, softly. “I’ve admired your ease at handling things like this.” She paused. “Everyone likes you, Michael. Right off, without hesitation. How do you do it?”

  “Like your skin—” he swung her around “—I inherited it.”

  Another person would have missed the edge in his voice; she didn’t. “You don’t sound as if you appreciate the gene.”

  “The party gene.” He smiled tightly. “I suppose I ought to be grateful—it’s what makes me a good bartender.”