Kitty Konstantine slammed the telephone onto her desk and jumped up, knowing if she didn’t move, she’d break something. She crossed the wide expanse of her office to stand and look out the floor-to-ceiling window, hugging her arms tightly to herself. It wasn’t just the frigid air conditioning making her cold all over. Her father’s harsh voice continued to ring in her ears.
“I made you the Head of our Music Division, and you can’t even manage to get our best band to play at Opryland! You do realize they are our best band, don’t you? You do realize how much it would mean to have one of our bands headlinin’ at Opryland, don’t you? Or do you?”
“Of course I know what it would mean! I signed The Four Saints, didn’t I? It was one of my people who found them; I was the one who got them under contract!”
“Oh, you got them to sign with us, all right, but their contract is crap!”
“I’ve told you: Bartholomew Saint is their manager, and he wouldn’t sign with us—or anyone else, for that matter—unless they had the final say in where they perform. No exceptions.”
“That’s bull crap and you know it! Anyone with balls—and I’m told you’re supposed to have steel ones—could’ve brought them around. Why, if your brother was still here…”
“Well, he’s not!”
Silence, then, “Get, those Saint boys to sign an Opryland contract, or you might not be here much longer, either!”
“Bart Saint is coming in this afternoon to talk to me. I’ll do what I can.”
“You’d better get it done, no matter what it takes. Hell, I’d suggest you sleep with him, if I thought it might improve our chances, but I’m bettin’ it would only make things worse!”
On that scathing note, he’d hung up, leaving Kitty trembling with emotions she couldn’t even identify.
“Oh, Rand…Why did you do this to me?”
She stared out the window for a very long time, watching the people pass by on the street one story below, glad of the reflective glass that didn’t allow anyone outside to see her standing there. Then sighing, she glanced over at her bookshelf and reached up to take down the double folding picture frame she kept on the top shelf. On the right, Randall J. Konstantine, Jr., Army Ranger, stood at attention in his dress uniform, proudly sporting the Special Forces and Ranger tabs on his sleeve and the colorful “fruit salad”—as he’d always called his ribbons—on his broad chest. He’d been headed back to Afghanistan for his second deployment, this time as a Staff Sergeant. She remembered how proud he’d been—how proud of him she’d been. On the left, was a group shot of SSG Konstantine, Jr., laughing and fooling around with some of his platoon buddies following a football scrimmage in Kabul. Two days later, he’d been killed by a sniper when he’d pushed his commanding officer out of the line of fire. Captain Green had sent her this picture with his condolences—and the promise to help in any way he could. Captain Green and his wife, Carol, had come through, taking care of all the arrangements for Rand’s burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Carol had stood with Kitty on that cold, blustery day Rand had been buried. Her father hadn’t bothered to attend.
“I lost my son a long time ago, when he walked out on me,” Randall, Sr., had said, when she’d asked him to go with her to Washington.
It was the last time Kitty had asked him for anything, and she’d left the building ten minutes later, gotten into her car, and driven straight through to Washington. She hadn’t cared that her father might fire her over her absence from the office. They hadn’t spoken about Rand since, though her father never hesitated to remind her that she wasn’t the son he had always expected to follow in his footsteps at the Konstantine Talent Agency.
She sighed. And maybe I won’t be here much longer, she thought, if I can’t get that stubborn, pig-headed Bartholomew Saint to cooperate.
She’d known from the beginning this would be a problem. Melinda Darling—now Melinda Darling Saint—had brought the band of four brothers to Kitty’s attention over a year ago, and it had taken only a minute with the CD Mel’d brought in to convince Kitty they had a winner. Unfortunately, it was Bartholomew Saint who’d done all the negotiating, and they’d gone around and around about the limits the Saints put on their performance venues, until Kitty had at times wanted to pull her hair out.
What made things worse was the absolutely ridiculous—and incredibly foolhardy—attraction she’d felt for Bartholomew Saint from the moment they’d met. She’d never before been attracted to big, powerful men, but there was just something about Bart Saint that drew her to him. He was in his mid-thirties, she guessed, by the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. His hair was dark, wavy, and thick—like all the Saint men—and his eyes…
She sighed. They all had those deep golden eyes, too—a family trait, according to Mel. All Kitty knew was Bart’s eyes seemed to be able to see right through her, all the way to her deepest, darkest secrets. Not that she had that many, but most of them these days had to do with her feelings about one Bartholomew Saint.
The intercom sounded, and Kitty reached over to touch the switch.
“Yes?”
“Bartholomew Saint is here to see you, Ms. Konstantine.”
She closed her eyes tightly, willing the threatening headache to go away.
“Of course he is. Send him in, please.”
Kitty closed the folding-frame of photos and set it down carefully before coming around and leaning back on the edge of her desk, crossing her arms protectively. She took a very deep breath, let it out very slowly, and prayed her heart would settle down, before she made a complete fool out of herself.
* * *
“Mr. Saint,” her assistant said unnecessarily when she opened the door.
“Thank you, Tina. Please hold all my calls.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The slender young black woman backed out of the room but not before shooting an appreciative glance at Bart.
Don’t bother, sweetie, Kitty thought. He’s so out of both our leagues.
It had always been difficult for her to remain aloof from this giant of a man. Like his nephews, Bartholomew Saint, at well over six feet, dwarfed her five-foot-eight, and his broad shoulders seemed to block out the light. He had a hint of a five-o’clock shadow even though it was only three-o’clock in the afternoon. Unlike the younger Saint men, there was something entirely formidable about this one. His very presence unnerved her on a good day. Today was not a good day.
“So,” she said, attempting to take control from the start. “Have you finally decided to be sensible and accept the offer from Opryland?”
She couldn’t quite interpret his smile but had a feeling it wasn’t good news.
“I usually like to start with, ‘Good afternoon. How are you today?’” he said.
She didn’t quite suppress a very unladylike snort. “Please.”
He stopped about four feet in front of her, and putting his hands in his pants’ pockets, stood at ease as he jingled his pocket change.
“I came to tell you we had a family meetin’ last night, and we’ve decided to stand pat on this one. The boys don’t want to perform on the big stage.”
Kitty shook her head in frustration. “Why not, for cryin’ out loud? That’s just crazy! Most bands would kill for the chance to perform at the Grand Ole Opry!”
“The Four Saints isn’t most bands,” he said, his calm tone of voice a startling contrast to her own.
But then he didn’t have to break the news to her father and boss that she hadn’t gotten the Saints to sign on the dotted line.
“Why?” she asked once more, hating the pleading note in her voice. “Just give me one good reason why. Don’t you think you owe me at least that much?”
He sighed and wandered over to gaze out the window. “It’s nothin’ personal, Kitty,” he said in that same, aggravatingly reasonable tone. She was shocked to hear him address her by her given name for the first time. “It has nothin’ to do with you or your agency. It’s just the way it’s gotta be.”
She let out a huff of breath, defeated. “And you’re not going to give me a reason, are you?”
Bart glanced at her, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Then he glanced down at her desk, and she froze when he reached for her brother’s pictures. He opened the dual frame and studied the photos for a long moment.
“Your brother?” he asked, and she realized he could read Rand’s name plate on the front of his uniform.
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
Not wanting to get into the “I-used-to-have-but-now-I’m-an-only-child” explanation , she didn’t say anything.
“So where is he now?” Bart asked.
“Arlington,” she said.
Kitty knew the exact moment Bart realized what she was saying, and she felt tears threaten when he turned those deep golden eyes on her, the compassion in them unmistakable.
“I’m sorry, Kitty. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she said, turning her back to him in an attempt to regain her composure.
“You were close.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. But it’s been ten years.”
She heard him sigh.
“I lost my oldest sister, Jenny, when she died in childbirth,” he said. “It’s been almost twenty years, now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still miss her.”
Kitty swallowed hard and turned back to him. “I’m sorry.”
His smile was rueful. “You didn’t know.”
He closed the photo frames and returned them gently to her desk. When he stepped away, she leaned against her desk once more, gripping the edge on either side of her.
“Won’t you at least tell me why your nephews refuse to play the big venues? They are so good. And with the addition of the women—Addy and Candace?—they’ve reached an even higher level. I’m not just saying this to get them to cooperate. They really are that good. But no one is going to know outside of old Nashville, if they’re not willing to spread their wings a little.”
He raised a knowing eyebrow at that. “A little? The Grand Ole Opry isn’t exactly little.”
“Okay, so maybe The Grand Ole Opry is more than they want to bite off for their first time on a big stage, but give me a break, here, Bart. I’m under a lot of pressure to show off Konstantine’s best band, and you’re not helping any.”
He sighed once more. “Would it help if I told you it’s a matter of ‘can’t’ rather than ‘won’t’?”
She didn’t try to suppress her snort of disbelief this time. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are they hiding out? Is one of them wanted by the police? The F.B.I., maybe? Maybe one of them is in a witness protection program, or something? Because believe me, if it’s anything less than that, we can find a way around it.”
Bart just looked at her without blinking, as though looking inside her mind. “The old man is making things really hard for you, isn’t he?”
She crossed her arms over her breasts once more and managed to shrug. “Even if he is, that’s not why I believe in The Four Saints. They’re good. They’re more than good, actually. And I want to help them to get to the top—in spite of their reluctance to shine. Is that a crime?”
“No. Only you don’t understand.”
“Then enlighten me, for heaven’s sake!” she said, throwing up her arms in exasperation.
He narrowed those golden eyes, but after a long moment of consideration, he finally nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
He nodded again. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“What?” She must have heard wrong.
“You heard me,” Bart said. “Have dinner with me tonight, and I’ll tell you why the boys can’t play on the big stages.”
“You have to be kidding.”
Bart shook his head. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You want to know the truth, I’ll tell you, but I can’t do it here.”
Kitty rubbed at her now-throbbing temples. “Where then?”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
She looked up sharply. “I’ll meet you.”
“If you want the truth, you’ll let me pick you up.”
“I’ll need my car after,” she protested.
“I’ll bring you back…after,” he said.
She felt a tingle deep in her belly and began to wonder what she feared more: that he wouldn’t bring her back, or that he would. Still, if there was a chance…
“Why?” she finally asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to have dinner with me?”
He stared hard at her once more, then in a move so smooth she would forever wonder why she hadn’t seen it coming, he stepped close to her, and taking her face between his warm, powerful hands, he laid his lips on hers. He didn’t push her hard, only probed gently, but in another moment, she opened her mouth under his and their kiss deepened. She gripped the edge of her desk in a desperate attempt to ground herself, as he deepened it further, leaving her breathless and hot with a new kind of yearning.
When he stepped back at last, she gasped for breath. He continued to hold her face gently, until she finally managed to raise her eyes to his and refocus. He held her gaze for another long moment, then without a word, he turned away and headed for the door.
“Bartholomew!”
He glanced back, and this time she saw the smile in his eyes. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
With that, he opened the door and left her, closing it softly behind him.
She waited just a beat then covered her face with her hands.
“My God, what have I done?” she whispered.
Trembling, she made her way to her private bath, and flicking on the lights, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her once smooth chignon she always wore to work was coming loose, and her lipstick was gone. There was no doubt about it: she looked as though she had been thoroughly kissed.
“Well, you have, you twit,” she said, turning on the water and splashing her face. She gulped handfuls of the cool water then turned it off and reached for a towel.
Studying herself in the mirror once more, she considered her position. She wasn’t going to try to fool herself. Bart had asked her to dinner, but she suspected he likely would expect “afters.” The crazy thing was, she really hoped he did, because she wanted him, too—and, she realized suddenly, it had absolutely nothing to do with his nephews’ band.
* * *
“So, where are you taking me to dinner?” Kitty asked, as Bart handed her into his car. She recognized the blue, mid-sized sedan as belonging to Mel, which Kitty appreciated, because she knew Bart usually drove the family’s big SUV, and she had no illusions about being able to get in and out of that big black behemoth gracefully in a straight skirt and heels.
“You’ll see,” he said, waiting for her to pull her skirt clear of the opening before he shut the door firmly behind her.
Kitty didn’t say anything more when he got in beside her. Refusing to be dragged into a game of twenty questions, she simply buckled her seatbelt and sat back while he did the same then started the engine.
“You’re a stubborn woman, Kitty Konstantine,” he said as he drove them out of the parking lot, and she thought she heard humor in his voice.
“Not really. I just refuse to beat my head against an immovable object.”
He chuckled, then. “This from the woman who’s been hounding my nephews and me for over a year, now, trying to get them to play in the big house?”
“A lot of good it did me,” she said.
“Not your fault,” he said, surprising her.
“Not to hear my father tell it,” she said, before she could stop herself. She knew she sounded bitter but didn’t care.
“In some ways, your old man reminds me of Meg’s,” he said, referring to his youngest nephew’s new wife. “They both want to claim ownership of a daughter without making any effort whatsoever to be worthy of being called a father. Of course, Meg’s old man at least recognizes her talent, whereas you’re father is clueless about the talent you have.”
“I don’t have any musical talent.”
“I didn’t say ‘musical,’ darlin’. I just said talent. And you are—without a doubt—one of the most talented negotiators I’ve ever met. It takes someone special to be able to talk people from all over the place into seein’ things your way—and to then think what they’re seein’ was their idea in the first place.”
“Everyone but you,” she said, turning her head to study his profile.
He smiled. “Yeah, well, I’m special, too.”
Kitty found herself smiling in spite of herself. “You are that,” she murmured, though his grin said clearly that he’d heard her.
Bart didn’t respond but instead made a couple of quick turns then pulled into an alley between the back yards of houses.
“Where are we?” she asked, feeling the first hint of alarm.
“Home,” he said, pulling in behind a two-story structure.
It was an old Victorian house in a neighborhood full of them. Like its neighbors, it was clearly a part of the movement to preserve and renovate these old beauties.
“You didn’t say anything about taking me to your place,” she said, nervous in spite of her resolve.
“I said I was takin’ you to dinner,” he said, getting out of the car.
“But…!”
He closed his door with a firm hand then came around the hood of the car to open her door for her.
“Dinner usually means a restaurant,” she said, making no move to get out.
He sighed. “But tonight is all about tellin’ you the truth, darlin’, and I can’t do that at a restaurant any more than I could at your office.
“Don’t worry,” he added. “I haven’t poisoned anyone, yet.”
Kitty hesitated another moment then took his offered hand and stepped out of the car. Looking around, she noticed the house across the alley was three stories, and she recognized the black SUV and the white van.
“Your nephews?” she asked, gesturing across the way.
“Mel was living in the top floor apartment when we met her. We were able to buy the house from the owner right before she and Matt were married. Then Addy came along, and this place came up for sale. It was a mess, but John and I moved over here when Luke and Candace married. Then John found Meg, so we spent all our time on the upstairs apartment. My space was only finished about a month ago.”
The whole time he was talking, he was gently herding Kitty into the apartment, and by the time he finished with the explanation, she was standing inside the back door, staring around at the kitchen, stunned by what he had done.
“I have to say, it’s not what I’d expected, but this is incredible,” she said, moving around the room, touching various surfaces.
The kitchen and dining area beyond were traditional in design, though the open floor plan and high-end finishes took it a step beyond. Closer inspection showed it leaned more toward the simplicity of mid-century modern in the furnishings, but blurry water-color paintings of mountains and forests harkened back to the past. The lighting was mostly hidden, the furnishings comfortable-looking. The small round table under a simple hanging lamp was set for two, complete with wine glasses and candles ready to light. Bart crossed the room to touch a switch, and a cheerful gas fire began to burn brightly in the fireplace.
“Confident, weren’t you?” she said, gesturing toward the set table.
Bart grinned. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist.”
After tapping a button on the microwave oven, he opened the big oven and brought out a pan of bubbling lasagna.
“Italian?” she asked. “You continually surprise me, Bartholomew.”
“Don’t worry. I put it together, but it’s Mel’s red sauce.”
“Ah.”
He placed the glass pan in a woven tray, carried it to the table, then returned to the refrigerator and brought out what looked like a spinach salad, which he proceeded to toss with vinegar and oil dressing.
“The bread’s in the microwave,” he said.
When the oven dinged, she opened the door to find a loaf of sliced Italian bread in a basket. Pulling it out, she smelled the garlic in the butter.
“Wine?” he asked.
“I might as well,” she said.
Bart grinned and poured red for them both before reaching into a drawer for a lighter and lighting the candles. Setting the lighter aside, he flicked off the kitchen lights.
“I guess that’s everything,” she said.
“Not quite.”
Before she could move past him to the table, he took hold of her arms, backed her against the kitchen counter, and reached up to pull her hair free of the chignon. She heard the pins hit the countertop and hardwood floor as he combed his long fingers through the heavy waves, and she was shocked to feel the ripple of desire run through her from her scalp to her toes. When he was through, he held one thick lock to the light.
“It’s not really red, and it’s not really brown, is it?” He smiled. “Chestnut, maybe.”
Kitty had to swallow, before she could speak. “It mostly depends upon what color I’m wearing—and the lighting,” she said.
“And you often dress in black, don’t you?”
“It’s professional,” she said tightly. “If you’re through playing with my hair, now, I’m hungry.”
Bart grinned. “Right.”
He surprised her once more when he pulled her chair out for her. Then he was serving her lasagna, and passing her the salad. Nothing more was said as they began to eat what turned out to be a delicious meal.
“You were going to tell me the truth,” she said, when she finally came up for air long enough to sip her wine.
“After dinner,” Bart said. “I want you to enjoy your dinner, first.”
“That sounds ominous,” she said, wishing she could make a joke about it.
Bart shook his head and drank some wine. “Nothing of the sort, but you may want to leave right after, and I want to enjoy our dinner, first.”
Kitty sighed and started on her salad.
When she looked up a moment later, he was smiling at her, and she felt her face heat.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothin’. Only it’s good to see a woman enjoyin’ her food. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bought dinner for a lady only to have her pick at it.”
Kitty shook her head. “Just lucky, genetically speaking. I have a very high metabolism that lets me enjoy food without worrying about putting on the pounds.”
Bart narrowed his eyes. “Does it really matter so much to women? Shoot, no man wants to be seen out with a bag of bones.”
Kitty reached for her wine once more. “That’s nice to know, but you’ll have to take it up with the fashionistas.”
Bart snorted. “Oh. Them.”
Kitty surprised herself by laughing.
“That’s better,” Bart said. “You should laugh more often.”
Kitty froze then very deliberately returned her wine glass to the table. Before he could stop her, she pushed away from the table and stood.
“I’ll take that truth, now,” she said, trying desperately to ignore all the sensations she was feeling in response to the way he was looking at her.
This is business! She admonished herself. Forget the way he’s looking at you!
Easier said than done, she told herself.
When she finally looked up to meet his gaze, his golden eyes darkened.
“All right,” he said, his tone of voice a soft growl. “Come into the living room.”
* * *
Kitty moved ahead of him, careful to keep some distance between them. When she reached the far side of the room, she turned to face him and was surprised to see him drawing the curtains. She felt a quiver, deep in her belly, and had to force herself not to flee.
“You want to know why the boys won’t play in the big houses.”
“Yes.”
She thought she heard him sigh. He stuffed his hands in his front pockets like before and jingled his change. For some reason, he seemed to be finding it difficult to meet her eyes, now, and she was amazed.
“Are they in trouble with the law?” she asked, thinking it might be the only explanation.
Bart managed a small smile.
“No. It’s nothin’ like that.”
“Then what?”
He took a deep breath. “There’s somethin’ some of the men in our family do,” he said, “somethin’ we can usually control under normal circumstances. Once we hit twenty or so, we can control it pretty well, but there are things that can set us off—loud noises, wild crowds, flashing lights, that sort of thing.”
“The sort of thing they’d have to deal with on a big stage.”
“That’s just it, darlin’,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “See, in a small house, especially someplace like the Fiddlers’ Cave, the stage is small, it’s near a door, and the crowd’s only gonna be about a hundred people. It’s plenty loud, but everyone’s on the same level, and the really bright lights are limited to a handful of parcans. There’re no special effects or laser lights or smoke or anything else that might set us off.
“But in a big house…” He shook his head. “I learned lighting and sound in college, but I interned out in Vegas, and I can tell you that was one helluva challenge for me. I don’t want the boys to have to worry about all that—and they know it wouldn’t be easy, so they’re happy to take my lead on this.”
“Are you telling me they’d be willing, but you won’t let them?” she asked, incredulous.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “No, it’s somethin’ we’ve talked about—a lot—and they don’t want to take any chances, either.”
“Any chances on what?” she asked, exasperated.
Bart eyed her closely then seemed to nod to himself.
“Okay. You want to know, so here goes.” He moved to the far side of the room. “I want you to sit down, and promise me you’ll stay seated, no matter what happens.”
“I’m not going to promise anything, Bartholomew Saint, until you tell me what’s going on!”
“I’m gonna show you exactly what happens to us, but you gotta promise me you’ll stay put and keep an open mind. I’m not gonna hurt you, no matter what you see me do, but I can’t have you runnin’ outa here, until we have a chance to talk after.”
“Okay,” she said, dropping onto his couch. “Fine. Just do…whatever you’re going to do, so we can get on with this.”
“I need you to look at me—look at my eyes—and no matter what happens, you keep lookin’ at my eyes. Got it?”
Kitty sighed but nodded. “Your eyes. Right. Got it.”
She looked into those deep, golden eyes, until she felt her vision waver. Then suddenly she realized it wasn’t her vision at all, and her eyes opened wide as Bart began to change. He dropped to all fours, and his form warped until instead of a man, she faced a very large black bear across the room.
Kitty was on the verge of screaming, but she clamped her jaws against it when she shifted her vision back to those golden eyes. They were the bear’s eyes, but somehow they were still Bartholomew Saint’s eyes, too, and she trembled with this new, previously never-suspected version of reality.
“Oh, my God…”
The bear/Bart took a step toward her, and Kitty came halfway out of her seat, before she forced herself to sit back down.
“If that’s really you, Bart, I’d really appreciate it if you’d sit down.”
She could have sworn the bear was laughing at her when he plopped his backside down on the floor.
She let out a shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay. I guess you’ve made your point.”
The bear seemed to waver, then, his form morphing into something longer, taller, and thinner, and then Bart was suddenly standing there before her once more.
He took two steps forward, sat on the coffee table, and reached for her hands.
“Breathe, darlin’,” he admonished her as he gave her hands a squeeze.
Kitty took a very deep breath then managed to look up to meet his eyes once more.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Kitty.”
“It’s the eyes, right?”
“They’re one tell,” he said. “At least, all the people I know who are Shifters have golden eyes.”
“Shifters?” she asked, trying the word on for size.
“That’s what we’re called,” Bart said.
Kitty thought about that for a moment, then tensed. “Addy! She has golden eyes, too!”
Bart nodded slowly. “Addy’s a Shifter, though her animal is a mountain lion.”
“Oh, God.”
Bart smiled. “Don’t give her too hard a time about it, Kitty. Addy grew up without anyone else in the family to show her what to do, on account of her father dyin’ when she was only two. Talking to her Granny, it seems like there isn’t anyone else in her clan, so she was pretty mixed up, until Granny sent one of her songs in, and Mark went out to find her.”
“How…how many…?”
“How many of us are there?”
Kitty nodded.
“I have no idea. In our family, it’s pretty common. My pappy, grandpappy, oldest brother—that’s the boys’ pa—and me, a couple of cousins. Havin’ so many in one family might be unusual. As I said, Addy’s the only one left in her family—that we know about, anyway, since they’re not as close a family as the Saints are. There are others, I know, but I’m thinkin’ most Shifters stay away from the cities, so you probably don’t run into them very often. We’ve met only one other in Nashville, since we moved here. He’s a lieutenant in the Nashville Police Department.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. Comes in handy, too, if somethin’ comes up, and we need somebody to cover for us.”
“What ‘something’?” she asked sharply, wondering if she really wanted to know.
“Well, like this past spring, when I was walkin’ the girls back to Mel’s car after dark one night, and there were these three drunks who wanted a piece of ’em.”
“Oh, my God. Was anyone hurt?”
“Well, none of us were—Addy and I handled them just fine—but I called our friend at the police station to tell him what happened to the three men after we left ‘em unconscious. Accordin’ to our friend, they never did remember what happened, which was good for us.”
Kitty could only shake her head. She ran her hand through her hair and sat back on the couch. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here having this conversation with you.”
Bart smiled and moved to sit next to her. “I told you it wasn’t somethin’ to talk about in your office or in a restaurant.”
“Yes, you did, didn’t you?”
“I’m hopin’ you now understand why the boys can’t play the Grand Ole Opry. I mean, that place holds what, a couple thousand people?”
“Forty-four-hundred.”
“Geeze. I’m sorry, darlin’ but you gotta see that there’s just no way: forty-four hundred people, balconies, all those lights, and whatever else the management might dream up for a concert? There’s just no way. One of the boys would Shift for sure in that mess.”
Kitty turned her head and studied him for a time then sighed. “Yes. I see.”
She sat forward, her elbow on her knees, and rubbed at her temples. “My father won’t, but that’s okay. I’m sure I can find another job someplace else.”
“What are you talkin’ about? Are you sayin’ he’s threatened to fire you over this?”
Kitty nodded and shook back her hair. She felt strangely free, with her long hair now loose and curling every which way. “Don’t worry. I’ll manage.”
“You won’t be tellin’ him about this, will you.” It wasn’t a question.
She shorted softly. “No. I won’t. Not that he’d ever believe me, anyway, but I won’t.
“I thank you for telling me, though,” she added, glancing back to give him a smile. “I do appreciate your trust.”
Bart reached out to play with her hair. “I thought I could,” he said, his hand roaming further to brush her cheek. “I figured you’d understand, iffen you knew the truth.”
Kitty felt her insides begin to quiver as his hand wandered to the back of her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment as his strong fingers began to knead the tension out of her neck.
“What are you doing, Bartholomew?” she asked softly.
“Tryin’ to help you relax a little,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Is it workin’?”
“Hmm.” She let her head fall forward, and in another moment, she felt both of his big hands on her shoulders, his thumbs digging into tense muscles and setting them free.
I should stop this, she thought, but it just feels so damn good…
Then he turned her toward him. His hands took possession of her face and brought her lips to his, and in another moment, she was in his arms.
“Bart?”
“Shh,” he whispered between kisses as he possessed her. “Just relax, darlin’, and let’s see where this takes us.”
“But…”
It was all he needed to deepen the kiss, and she found herself kissing him back, her hands in his dark, thick hair, holding him to her.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered between kisses.
“Sure you can,” he said, bringing one hand down to cup her breast.
“I shouldn’t want you so much,” she whimpered, arching into his hand.
“But you do.”
She froze in that moment, trying desperately to see him by the firelight. She was trembling with need, hungry to feel this man’s touch, to feel him inside her.
“Yes,” was all she said.
* * *
Without another word, Bart lifted her into his arms in one graceful, powerful move and carried her down the hallway and into his bedroom. Kitty clung to him, kissing his face and anything else she could reach. In another moment, he set her on her feet at the foot of the bed.
“Let’s get you out of this strait-jacket,” he said, unbuttoning the fitted blazer and slipping it off her shoulders to the floor then fumbling with the tiny pearl buttons on her silky white blouse.
“You don’t like my clothes,” she said as she took his face between her palms and brought his lips back to hers.
“It’s like trying to get you out of a sardine can,” Bart growled in frustration as he kissed her back, and she heard the buttons of her blouse go flying across the hardwood floor when he ripped it open.
He made short work of the front clasp on her bra, and suddenly his hands were on her breasts, molding them and bringing them to his lips. Kitty cried out and arched her back, while she clung to his arms to keep from falling. He shifted to brush her clothes aside, and placing one strong arm around her back, he gently lowered her to the bed. Coming down over her, he straddled her thighs and reached for the zipper at the side of her skirt. Once it was down, he peeled the soft fabric and her silky slip down over her hips and away.
“Well, well, well,” he murmured when he saw what she was wearing underneath.
Kitty struggled to remain in control, but she couldn’t stop her hips from rising and falling in a frustrating attempt to rub against him. Her legs were trapped together by his strong thighs, though, and he seemed content to simply look at her. She knew what he was seeing—she wore stockings and a garter belt, because it was cooler in the summer than pantyhose, and her scrap of lacy panties hid nothing.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?” he asked, taking both her wrists in one hand and raising her hands up over her head. He used his free hand to explore her, touching her in all her secret places but one, coming closer and closer to that goal, but never quite touching her there.
“I need…” Kitty panted.
“Need what, darlin’?” he asked.
She heard the laughter in his voice and hated him for it.
“You know!” she gasped.
“Could be.”
She strained against him, pumping her hips in a frantic motion that was severely limited by his grasp of her thighs with his own.
“Damn you!” she cried.
“Tell me what you want, Kitty,” he said, his voice turning hard.
And she suddenly knew. He wasn’t going to give her what she so desperately wanted—needed—until she admitted it to him in so many words. But she had no more room for pride.
“You!” she cried. “I need you!”
“Looks like you have me, darlin’,” he said, his voice sounding suddenly rusty. “What do you want me to do?”
She could feel the bulge in the front of his pants where he straddled her legs, and she knew he had to be close, too, but she realized he wouldn’t give in, until she did.
“Inside me!” she cried, and she felt tears of frustration on her face. “I want you inside me! Now! Please!”
Without a word, he ripped her panties aside and plunged his fingers into her most secret place, and Kitty instantly erupted with a scream on a climax bigger than she had ever known.
What seemed a long time later, though she knew it could only have been minutes, she managed to open her eyes to see him beside the bed, quickly pulling off his own clothes. When he turned back to her, she sucked in her breath, knowing real fear at the sight of him. He was hung like a stallion, and she just knew it was never going to work. But when he came down over her, pulling her legs wide, she felt the cool air on her thighs as it hit the wetness of her own juices, and when he began rubbing his member against her, she felt herself stirring once more.
She reached up to shyly run her fingers over his broad chest. It was covered with a dark, grizzly fur, and when she arched against him and clasped her arms around his muscled torso so her breasts rubbed against him, the sensations caused by the friction shot straight to her loins and she moaned. He was playing his fingers over her thighs and just inside her, and much to her surprise she felt herself quickening once more.
“I can’t,” she gasped. “Not again.”
“Sure you can,” he said, and she heard a new sound in his voice.
She released him and laid back, opened her eyes to see the strain in his face. She reached up to touch his cheek as her hips began pumping in earnest once more in an attempt to bring him closer.
“Come with me this time,” she pleaded.
He chuckled, and she heard something of the bear’s growl in his voice. “That’s the idea, darlin’,” he said. “What happened before, that was just to get you ready for me.”
She felt something prodding at her center and looked down to see his member rubbing on her. A mixture of fear and anticipation warred in her brain, but the mental conflict did nothing to slow the pumping of her hips.
“Hurry,” she pleaded.
He chuckled then without another word, he fitted himself to her. He was huge, but she was well-lubricated, thanks to her earlier climax. Still it was a tight fit, and they both strained to complete their union. Bart finally hooked his arms under her knees, opening her wider, and with a final thrust, seated himself to the hilt.
Kitty cried out in frustration as she came just to the edge of completion and no further, but in this position, she had no leverage, and he took complete control of their mating, pulling out almost completely then driving himself into her, over and over again, until Kitty felt herself coming apart once more.
“Bart!”
He only roared in reply as he emptied himself into her, and she saw star bursts in the night as her second climax slammed through her even harder than the first.
A long time later, he rolled to his back, pulling her with him, so they remained joined. He brought a blanket up over her, and she snuggled into his furry chest.
“Don’t let me fall asleep here,” she murmured.
It was the last thing she knew.
* * *
Kitty woke to broad daylight. The bed beside her was cold, and she had a moment of disorientation while she tried to figure out where she was. A knock at the bedroom door brought reality back with a crash.
“I’ve brought you coffee,” Bart said, coming in bearing a huge white ceramic mug.
By the look of his damp hair and smooth jaw, he was freshly showered. He was also fully dressed, and she felt at a distinct disadvantage. Then she noticed the clock.
“Oh, crap! I told you not to let me fall asleep here last night!”
“Relax, Kitty,” he said, blocking her from rising and holding out the coffee mug. “I called Mel, and she’ll make your excuses for you at work.”
“Oh, geeze! Does the entire family know about last night?”
He had the gall to chuckle. “Only Mel and Meg. Meg’s the one who loaned you a dress for today.” He gestured toward the open closet, where she saw a splash of pale yellow hanging among Bart’s dark suits. “I’m afraid your blouse is ruined, but Meg thinks you’re about her size, so the dress should fit.”
Kitty pulled a pillow over her face with a moan.
“Look, take a shower and get dressed,” he said, setting the coffee on the bedside table. “Have some coffee and some breakfast. Like I said, Mel will cover for you at work, so take your time, figure out what you’re gonna tell your old man.”
Kitty heard Bart walk out, closing the bedroom door softly behind him. She tossed the pillow aside, and scooting up to lean against the headboard, she reached for the coffee. As the caffeine hit her bloodstream, she started making sense of the world again and pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness.
Okay, she thought. I’m here in Bartholomew Saint’s bed. Two of his nephews’ wives—at the very least—know I spent the night in Bart’s bed. When Bart takes me into work—she glanced at the clock—three hours late, it’s likely everyone at Konstantine will know I spent the night with him.
Then she thought about her father’s harsh words over the phone yesterday afternoon, and she could only wonder at her sudden lack of trepidation. In fact, she decided, she felt pretty darn good at the moment. She hadn’t slept with Bart in order to convince him to sign the contract, which is what her father had hinted she attempt. Instead, she had made love with Bart after conceding that The Four Saints would never sign such a contract. Her father would be furious, but she realized, however belatedly, that she didn’t care. In point of fact, she had money in the bank and a pricey condo she could sell. So who said she needed to worry about what Randall J. Konstantine, Sr., thought of her? Why should she continue to care about pleasing the “old man”—and keep beating her head against the wall trying to do so?
Kitty froze with the coffee mug halfway to her lips, suddenly realizing what she was considering.
Are you out of your cotton-picking mind? her other half—the sensible half—asked herself.
“Probably,” she said, then sipped her coffee and waited, trying the kernel of an idea on for size.
Then she took a very deep breath and smiled. “In fact, undoubtedly.”
Setting aside her coffee mug, she threw off the sheet and headed for the bathroom, before she could change her mind.
* * *
Bart pulled the SUV into the loading zone at the front door of the Konstantine Talent Agency, put it in park, and hopped out to come around and open Kitty’s door.
“You sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” he asked.
Kitty smiled. “No thanks. I’ve got this.”
She released her seatbelt and swung her legs around only to have Bart grasp her waist in his big hands and lift her gently to the ground.
“Thanks,” she said. Slightly breathless, she reached back for her purse.
“Thanks for the ride,” she added. “And thank you for last night.” Her smile warmed. “I’m really glad you trusted me enough to tell me about yourself and your nephews, Bart. It means a lot to me.”
Bart returned her smile, and brushed a loose lock of hair back from her face. She wore it pulled back into a simple pony tail, this morning. It was unusual for her, to say the least, but it seemed to match the style of Meg’s dress, which was a light, full-skirted wrap-around style, made of a light-weight, breezy chiffon. The color was of early daffodils. Meg had left not only the dress for her but also a white slip, panties, and a pair of matching, low, wedge-heeled canvas shoes. The entire outfit couldn’t have been more different than Kitty’s usual work attire, and she found she loved it—both the look and the feel. She and Meg were of a size, and everything fit perfectly.
“You’re welcome, darlin’,” Bart said, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the lips. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“How about tonight?” she asked, pleased to see his eyes light with anticipation.
“Works for me.”
“Good.” She turned away, but when she glanced back briefly to see his golden eyes following her closely, she laughed.
Kitty entered the building and ignored the stares from the security personnel as she signed in and headed for her office.
Good morning, Tina,” she greeted her assistant.
“Oh! Good morning, Ms. Konstantine!” Tina said. The young woman was obviously trying hard not to stare at her boss. “Uh, Mr. Konstantine has been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Okay. I’ll call him in a bit. Please ask Ms. Saint to come to my office as soon as possible, if she’s available.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kitty felt laughter bubble up at her assistant’s expression, but tamped it down. There would be plenty of time, later.
Stepping into her office, she closed the door behind her and went immediately to her desk to turn on her computer. Twenty minutes later, she hit send, sat back in her chair, and took a deep breath.
“That’s done, then. No turning back, now.”
She rose and headed for the closet. Rummaging around, she found a couple of empty file boxes, and bringing them out, she began to systematically go through her office, packing personal items into the boxes. She would leave all company files behind, because she didn’t want her father to sic his lawyers on her for stealing company secrets, but some of the files—and all the decorations—were her own personal property. Retrieving the photos of her brother, she smiled.
“Wish me well, Rand,” she whispered, touching a finger to his beloved image, before she closed the frame and placed it gently in a box.
The intercom sounded, and she reached for the switch.
“Yes?”
“Ms. Saint to see you, Ms. Konstantine.”
“Thank you, Tina. Please send her in and hold all my calls.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The door opened immediately, and Mel Saint walked in.
“Sorry it took me so long, Ms. Konstantine,” Mel said, and Kitty could see the younger woman was nervous.
“That’s okay, Mel. Please have a seat.”
Mel took one of the chairs facing Kitty’s desk, opening a steno pad and clicking on her pen.
“You won’t need that,” Kitty said, leaning forward on her desk.’
“Oh.” Mel looked flustered, and Kitty imagined the younger woman was thinking the worst.
“I need your help, Mel,” Kitty said, deciding to get right to the point.
“Of course,” Mel said, still looking uncertain.
“Actually, I need to thank you first—for covering for me this morning,” she added, when Mel looked blank.
“Oh. Well, that’s all right. I was happy to help.”
Kitty smiled warmly. “It wasn’t all right—not on my part—to leave you stranded, and I want you to know I appreciate it.”
Mel relaxed a fraction. “Okay. Then you’re welcome.”
Kitty sat back in her chair, and crossing one leg over the other, she swung her chair back and forth.
“I imagine I also have you to thank for Meg’s assistance this morning.”
Mel looked embarrassed. “Well, I thought you’d like, that is I didn’t think you’d want…I mean…”
“You were pretty sure I wouldn’t want to show up for work in the same clothes I was wearing last evening when I left with Bart Saint.” Kitty grinned. “You were right, of course.”
Mel let out a huff of breath. “Well, I know how…persuasive the Saint men can be.”
Kitty laughed. “Tell me, Mel: When did you find out about what they do?”
Mel seemed to relax completely at that, as she realized where Kitty was headed.
“The first time I saw them, actually.”
“Them?”
Mel nodded. “Yes. I’d followed the band to a dive where I’d learned they liked to hang out. It wasn’t someplace I should have gone into by myself, but I’d heard them play, and knew you’d want to sign them, so I…”
Kitty sat forward suddenly. “What happened? God, please don’t tell me you were hurt.”
“No! I mean, there was this drunk guy who did try to, well, he was pretty obnoxious, but Matt and the others heard the commotion, and they came storming out of the back room and…Well, they took care of him. Took care of me.”
Kitty gasped. “I am so sorry, Mel. God, if anything bad had happened to you, because I was pushing you so hard …”
“It’s okay. Really. And anyway, if you hadn’t…I mean, if I hadn’t decided to follow them into that dive, I’d never have met Matt, so really, it turned out okay.” She smiled brightly. “Better than okay, really.”
Kitty stood and paced to the window. “I pushed all of you too hard, Mel,” she said. “My father was pushing me, and I was dumping all that frustration onto all of you.”
She turned back. “It was wrong of me.”
“Ms. Konstantine…” Mel began.
“Kitty. Please. Call me Kitty.” She took a deep breath. “I have a huge favor to ask of you, and I’d rather ask it of a friend than of a subordinate.”
She paused and took another deep breath. “Besides, I’m not your supervisor anymore.”
“You’re not?” Mel seemed to forget her earlier misgivings as she sat forward, startled.
“No, I’m not. Or at least I won’t be, as soon as HR passes my letter of resignation along to my father.”
“You’re letter of…” Mel gaped at her. “Holy cats…you really quit?”
Kitty found a smile from somewhere. “I thought I might as well. My father made it pretty clear yesterday that if I didn’t get The Four Saints to sign an Opryland contract, I’d be finished here. And after my evening with Bart, I know that was never going to happen.”
“He told you?” Mel asked, tentatively.
Kitty nodded. “Told and showed.”
A thought struck Kitty. “You said ‘they’ came to your rescue. Does that mean all five of them…?”
Mel smiled. “Yes. I don’t remember it real clearly, but there were lots of growls and screams and, well, if you can imagine a bar suddenly filled with five very unhappy bears…”
Kitty laughed and collapsed into the other chair in front of her desk. “God, I really can.”
She shook her head again then glanced at the clock.
“Anyway, before we’re interrupted, as I said, I need to ask you a favor.”
“Okay.”
Kitty was glad to see Mel seemed genuinely willing to listen.
“I’m going to need to find another job, but I don’t think I want to work for anyone else, so I’m thinking about going out on my own.”
“As a talent agent?”
“Yes, but I’ve learned I don’t like the stiff competition of the big boys as much as I like helping new artists. You know: the up-and-coming singer or band who may or may not make it to the big stage, but is really talented and should at least be given the chance to make a living doing what they love.”
Mel smiled. “You mean like The Four Saints.”
“Exactly. I’ve also been thinking about your sister-in-law.”
“Meg?”
“You mentioned the other day that she’s thinking about soloing again, but she doesn’t want to tour Europe or even the entire U.S. Maybe what she needs is small-scale representation—to protect her from the vultures.”
“Like her father, you mean.”
“And mine. Exactly.”
Mel loosened up enough to cross one leg over the other and bounce her foot, a thoughtful expression in her face.”You may have something there,” she said.
“The thing is,” Kitty said, leaning close, “I can’t do it alone. I’ll need help—a partner or partners—to pull this off.”
Mel looked startled. “Me?”
“You, and possibly Bart, though I haven’t discussed this with him, since I’m kind of making this up as I go along this morning.”
“Wow,” Mel said. She met Kitty’s frank gaze, and Kitty interpreted her expression as hopeful. “Where would you want to base this?”
“Well, we’d need to find an office space and some up-front money. I’m going to sell my condo, so that will give us start-up funding, especially if the boys and Meg are willing to sign with us right away, giving us some immediate income.”
Mel started to nod but then shook her head. “I have a better idea—if you’d like to hear it?”
Kitty offered her hand. “I think we’re on the verge of becoming partners, Mel, so of course I want to hear it.”
Mel grinned and shook her hand.
“You’ve been to Bart’s apartment, right? Well, you may not have seen it, but he’s got a big front room—a parlor, I guess it would have been called—that would make a great front office.”
“We’d have to get permitted…”
Mel waved Kitty off. “That shouldn’t be a problem. You wouldn’t have seen it, coming in from the back as you did, but the street Bart and John’s house is on has several first-floor professional offices in a few of the old houses. So far there’s an attorney, a CPA, a piano teacher—that sort of thing.”
“Perfect,” Kitty said. “Do you think Bart will go for it?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Great. Then I also want to find a small recording studio—or a place we can turn into one.”
“Recording studio?”
“Yes. You know what it was like for the Saints to find places in the city to rehearse and record when they were first starting out. I think we should offer that service for the young talents we find…”
Their conversation continued in that vein, as they brainstormed ideas for what their new agency could become. At one point, Kitty got up to finish packing, while Mel opened her steno pad and hastily scribbled notes. For a moment, Kitty forgot all about being unemployed and homeless.
Then her office door banged open, and she looked up to see her father standing there, his face a mask of fury.
* * *
“What the hell is going on in here?” he shouted. “And where the hell have you been?”
Kitty set the last of her books in a file box and closed the lid.
“Good morning to you, too, Dad.
“That will be all, Mel,” she said, turning to her new partner. “You can go get started, now.”
“Wait just a damn minute!” Konstantine shouted. “What do you mean by this?”
He brandished a crumpled sheet of paper at her, and Kitty was fairly certain of what it was.
“I’m guessing that’s my letter of resignation,” she said, stepping forward to lean against the front of her desk. She crossed her arms, hoping he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands.
“You can’t just quit!”
“I’m afraid I just did.”
When he began cursing in earnest, she held up a surprisingly steady hand.
“I’ve only preempted your own move, Dad,” she said. “You made it clear yesterday that if I didn’t come through with a new contract that put The Four Saints in Opryland, I was finished here. Well, they won’t be signing any such contract.”
“In fact,” Mel said, stepping to Kitty’s side in a show of solidarity, “they won’t be renewing their current contract with this agency, once it runs out at the end of this month.”
“You can’t know that!”
“I have it on the best authority, Mr. Konstantine.”
“Whose?”
Kitty actually laughed. “Good God, are you really so unaware of everything that’s going on around here that you don’t know Mel is Mrs. Matt Saint? They’ve been married over a year.”
When Konstantine only blustered, Kitty shook her head.
“Let’s go, Mel.”
“You can’t just leave!”
“Are you ladies ready?”
Kitty glanced toward the door and felt a wash of relief at the site of Bartholomew Saint leaning on the door jamb, his hands in his pockets and a smile playing at his lips.
“Just about,” Kitty said. “Can you give me a hand with these two boxes?”
“Sure.”
“Trying to steal company secrets, are you?” Konstantine said, reaching for one of Kitty’s boxes.
“No,” she said, lifting the lid and tipping it toward him so he could see the contents. “Only a few personal items. The files you can have. I won’t need them where I’m going.”
“Just where do you think you’re goin’?”Konstantine snapped.
“We’re starting a new agency,” Bart said, “Kitty, Mel, and I.”
“The hell you are! What agency?”
“The Bear-Cat Agency, we’re callin’ it,” Bart said, winking at Kitty and Mel. “Don’t worry, Konstantine. It’s not likely we’ll ever be goin’ after the same clients—other than The Four Saints, of course. They’ll be signing with us.”
Bart walked past Konstantine and took up Kitty’s two boxes as though they contained nothing but tissue paper and bubble wrap.
“Shall we go, ladies?”
“You haven’t heard the end of this!” Konstantine snapped.
Kitty stopped long enough to look at her father, long and hard.
“I’ve never been able to please you, Dad,” she said, her voice sad. “God knows I’ve tried, but I could never be the son you wanted at your side. I’m sorry for that; sorry I could never please you; sorrier than I can ever express that I wasn’t Rand.”
“Don’t you talk to me about ‘sorry.’” he growled.
Kitty closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. When she opened them, her father was still glaring at her. She sighed and turned to follow Bart without another word.
She found Tina Carpenter standing behind her desk, an expression of shock and awe on her face showing clearly that she had heard every word. Kitty stopped and smiled at her former assistant. When Tina glanced fearfully toward the office door, Kitty reached out to lay a hand on the younger woman’s arm.
“We couldn’t pay you what you’re making here right away, but if you’re interested…”
Tina’s dark eyes got big. “Oh, yes, ma’am.”
Mel pulled a sheet off Tina’s note pad and jotted down an address and phone number. “Here, Tina,” she whispered. “Call me when you’re ready to jump ship.”
“I’m ready, now, Ms. Saint.”
Kitty smiled. “You should finish the month if you can, before you give your notice, so you can get another full paycheck. Then call us. We should be ready for you by then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Kitty, Mel, and Bart headed out of the building. As they signed out at security, Kitty could tell by the shocked expressions that the news of her leaving had made it to the door before her. In another five minutes, she was loaded into Bart’s SUV, and they were following Mel out of the parking lot. She sighed but didn’t look back.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” Bart said.
“So am I,” Kitty said. “I wish it could have been different between us, but Dad never forgave me for outliving Rand.”
“His loss,” Bart said, reaching for her hand.
“Yes. Mine, too.”
She returned the squeeze of his hand, grateful for his support.
“Now what?” she asked as they waited for a traffic light.
“Family meetin’ tonight,” he said. “You and Mel have some explainin’ to do.”
Kitty laughed. “Yes, I guess we do.”
* * *
It was actually a lot easier than Kitty had thought it would be, meeting with the entire family. They were gathered around Mark and Abby’s dining room table, and Mark was generous as he poured wine for the ladies.
“Bear-Cat, huh?” Matt said then took a swig from his bottle of beer.
“I like it,” John said.
“Me, too,” Meg said. “It’s all of you and Addy and Kitty, all rolled into one.”
“Well, it just popped into my head when old man Konstantine asked, but if we come up with somethin’ better, that’d be okay.”
There were protests around the table, and so it was settled.
“To The Bear-Cat Agency,” Mark said, raising his bottle high.
Everyone lifted their bottle or glass.
“How are you doing, Kitty?” Meg asked.
Kitty took a deep breath. “All right, I guess, though I’ve never been unemployed and homeless before.”
Luke snorted. “You’re hardly that. What you and Mel cooked up is a great idea, and I’m bettin’ we can make it work in no time.”
“Getting clients won’t be easy,” Kitty said.
“You already have two,” Meg said. “The Four Saints and me.”
“Really?” Kitty said. “Are you serious about touring again, Meg?”
Meg shook her head. “Not touring—never that, again. It would take me too far from home for too long. But there are local gigs I could get, with your help—and by local, I mean Tennessee and surrounding states. I don’t want to go too far. This is my home, and I like it here. But surely there are universities and music schools who wouldn’t mind paying me something to perform and lead workshops.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Mel said.
“I could be your third client,” Addy said.
Kitty smiled. She liked Addy. The quietest of all six of the young Saints, she was soft-spoken, and oh so very talented as a song writer.
“We’d be fools not to take you on, Addy,” Bart said. “You write terrific songs, and some of them are just cryin’ out for a female star to sing ’em.”
“Hey!” Luke said, wrapping his arm around his wife protectively. “Candace, here, sings those songs real well.”
“Of course she does,” Addy said loyally.
“But I don’t like to,” Candace said, rolling her eyes toward her husband. “Not on stage. You know I don’t. So let Kitty, Mel, and Bart find some up-and-coming star to really do those songs justice. I mean, just ’cause the Saints don’t want to sing at the Grand Ole Opry, doesn’t mean Addy’s songs shouldn’t get there.”
There was a burst of enthusiasm around the table, and Kitty shook her head in wonder.
It is so easy for them, she thought.
Mel and Kitty had outlined their preliminary plans for the whole family over pulled pork and coleslaw, and everyone seemed to want in on it. Bart had agreed that his front parlor was the perfect place for an office, and Matt had an idea about a possible joint venture with the owner of a small recording studio nearby who was currently in trouble financially. The brainstorm of ideas seemed never ending.
“You still with us, darlin’?” Bart asked after a time, his voice a soft murmur in her ear.
She smiled at him. “Barely.”
“I think Kitty’s had it for tonight,” Mel said, and Kitty felt the warmth of her smile.
And how good it feels to have Mel for a friend and colleague, now, she thought.
“I think you’re right,” Kitty said, getting up from the table. “I can’t thank all of you enough for…” She broke off, suddenly at a loss for words.
Mel stood and gave her a warm hug. “I’m so glad you invited me to go with you, Kitty, she said. “I think we’re going to be great together.”
“You bet,” Matt said.
“I couldn’t even begin to succeed without all of you,” Kitty said.
Bart got to his feet and put his arm around her shoulders. “You were the spearhead on this one, Kitty, and deserve all the credit for it. And we’re all agreed it’s gonna be good for all of us, so let’s just call this a family affair and leave it at that.”
In another few minutes, Bart led her down the back stairs and into the night. They crossed the alley and stopped between their two cars.
“I don’t like the idea of you tryin’ to drive home tonight, Kitty,” Bart said.
She looked up at him, trying to see his golden eyes in the shadows.
“I don’t like the idea of going home at all,” she said.
Bart smiled and brushed the hair back from her face. “Even better,” he murmured, kissing her brow and turning her toward his door.
* * *
They didn’t bother with the lights, but let the moonlight and streetlights coming through the windows guide their way into the bedroom.
“We need to be more careful tonight,” Kitty said when he brought her to a stop at the foot of the bed and took her into his arms.
“Oh?”
He sounded worried, and she actually giggled.
“I don’t want to ruin Meg’s dress,” she said.
He laughed. “I’ll be careful,” he promised, loosening the belt that held the dress in place.
When the belt was gone, the dress flowed to the floor along with it, and Kitty’s breath caught when he opened the front of her bra, releasing her breasts. The air conditioning blew across her heated flesh, where his mouth left a damp trail, and she felt an answering tingle in her nether regions.
“Bart…”
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said, returning his lips to hers. “We won’t be takin’ as long to get there tonight.”
“Good!”
He chuckled, but when he would have laid her on the bed, she twisted and pushed him ahead of her. He landed on his back in the middle of the bed, and she rejoiced at the sound of his laughter.
“My turn,” she said, straddling his thighs and going to work on his shirt front with clumsy fingers.
“Just don’t take too long,” he said, groaning when she reached for his belt but stopped long enough to feel the bulge at the front of his jeans.
Kittle laughed breathlessly. “It won’t be long, now. Just scoot up on the bed.”
He did as directed, and she moved away just long enough and far enough to pull off his shoes and socks, as well as her own shoes, slip, stockings, and panties, before she quickly returned to his belt buckle and pulled it apart. Then carefully unbuttoning his jeans, she felt for the zipper.
“Careful, darlin’…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” She pulled the zipper down and felt his member pulsing through his shorts.
“Lift your hips for me,” she directed.
When he did, she lifted up far enough to give her room to slide his jeans down. Once they were around his ankles, he kicked them off.
“Sit up, now.”
He did as she directed, and she peeled his shirt over his shoulders and threw it away, before pushing him back down onto his back.
“You are so beautiful,” she said, as she settled down over him and ran her hands through the dark fur on his chest. His muscles were smooth and hard under the soft coat, and she let her fingers roam, following the line of hair as it narrowed down to the waistband of his shorts.
“You got that wrong, Kitty,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re the one who’s beautiful.”
He grasped her under her arms, then, and pulled her up over him until he could reach her breasts with his mouth. She held herself above him with her arms on either side of his head as he feasted on first one then the other, leaving her gasping. When she couldn’t stand it anymore she slid down him to lay her lips on his, taking their kiss deep, all the while feeling the huge presence of his member between her legs. He had pushed down his shorts while she hadn’t been paying attention, and she felt her own wetness as she rubbed against him.
“You need to sit up, now, darlin’,” he directed, placing his big hands under her arms once more and lifting her off him.
Kitty cried out in disappointment, until she felt the prodding of his member at her center. She reached down to take him in her hands, feeling him grow harder still, then guided him to her opening. It was bigger this way, and she felt some pain as she slowly sank down onto him.
Then he was thrusting up, hard, and pulling her down, her hips trapped in his big hands. Kitty squealed, arching back, her hands spearing through his hair, as she came down on him. He repeated the motion, first lifting then pulling her down, until the pain was eclipsed by a pleasure so big, she thought she would burst from it.
And in another moment, she did, shuddering hard on her climax, her cry swallowed by his roar as his seed filled her.
Later, she lay on him, her legs wrapped around his, his member still deep inside her. He had softened, but he was still there, still a part of her, and she felt complete. She sighed in contentment, and felt him pull a blanket up over her against the cool night air. When he turned his head to kiss her, she felt tears threaten.”
“Did I hurt you, Kitty?” he asked, and she heard distress in his voice.
“No! Well, maybe, at first, but then it was...it was perfect.”
She felt his smile when he kissed her again.
She sighed. “I love you, you know.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured you did. Convenient, that, since I love you, too.”
As his arms tighten around her, she felt his member begin to grow inside her, and in another moment, she felt herself quicken once more.
“I can’t believe what you do to me,” she murmured. “It’s never been like this before.”
“Good,” he said, the satisfaction in his voice unmistakable.
Kitty laughed softly and hugged him close, at home in his arms as she had never been anywhere else before.
“Are you gonna marry me, Kitty?” he asked after a time.
She sighed. “I think I’ll have to. Bear-Cat is supposed to be a family affair, after all.”
He laughed and rolled over, reversing their positions. Then he began to love her once more, and she let herself fly.