8
She slept so deeply that she didn’t hear the alarm go off, had to dress in frantic haste, and still she was fifteen minutes late for work.
Thursday, June 3, her calendar boldly proclaimed as she unlocked her desk and reached for the cup of coffee Donna had brought her.
Thursday.
The last day she would ever be able to reach Ramon. How late would he be at that phone number? Until he finished working at five or six o’clock? Or would he be working late tonight? What difference did it make? If she called him she would have to be ready to leave and marry him. And that she just couldn’t do.
June 3.
Katie smiled sadly as she sipped her steaming coffee. At the lightning speed with which Ramon swept her along, she probably would have been a June bride. Again.
Katie gave her head a hard shake and employed what was for her, a special talent she discovered she possessed during her divorce: By instantly forcing herself to think of something different the moment an unwanted subject entered her mind, she could totally repress the subject.
She was a positive whirlwind of productive activity all day. Not only did she handle all her scheduled interviews, she took three more applicants who had arrived without the required appointment.
She gave most of the clerical tests herself, repeating the instructions for how to type the sample copy as if it were the most interesting speech she’d ever made. She stared at the timer while they typed as if it were an absorbing masterpiece of complicated technology that utterly fascinated her.
She breezed into Virginia’s office, thanked her profoundly for the marvelous raise and the wonderful advice, and then she slowly closed her office door and reluctantly went home.
It was not nearly as easy to practice her technique in the solitude of her apartment, particularly when the radio kept reminding her what time it was—“This is KMOX Radio and the time is six-forty,” the announcer said.
And Ramon won’t be at that number much longer, if he still is, the announcer in her mind added.
Angrily, Katie snapped off the radio and turned on the television, prowling around her apartment, unable to sit down. If she called Ramon, there could be no half-measures; she would have to tell him the truth. Even if she did, he might not want to marry her any longer. He had been furious to learn she’d been married before. Maybe the church wasn’t the issue at all. Maybe he didn’t want ‘secondhand’ goods. But if he wanted to be finished with her, why had he left her a number where she could call him?
The television screen flared to life. “It’s seventy-eight degrees in St. Louis at six forty-five,” the announcer intruded into her thoughts.
She couldn’t call Ramon unless she was prepared to resign her job with one day’s notice. That was all that was left. She would have to walk into Virginia Johnson’s office and say to a woman who had been wonderful to her, “Sorry to be leaving you in the lurch, but that’s the way it is.”
And she hadn’t even considered the problem of her parents. They would be angry, alarmed, heartbroken. They would miss her terribly if she went to Puerto Rico. Katie dialed her parents’ number and was informed by their maid that Mr. and Mrs. Connelly had gone to the country club for dinner. Damn it! Katie thought. Why were they gone when she needed them? They should be at home, missing their little Katie, whom they only saw every few weeks. Would they miss her so much if they only saw her every few months?
Katie leaped to her feet, and in desperation to be doing something, changed into a bikini—the yellow bikini! Sitting at the dressing table in her spacious bedroom, she briskly brushed her hair.
How could she be thinking of giving all this up in exchange for the sort of home and life Ramon could offer her? She must be insane! Her own life was a modern American woman’s dream. She had a rewarding career, a beautiful apartment, expensive clothes and no financial worries. She was young, attractive and independent.
She had everything. Absolutely everything.
That thought caused Katie’s brush strokes to slow as she stared soberly into the mirror. Dear God, was this really everything? Her eyes darkened with despair as she again contemplated a future just like her present. There had to be more to life than this. Surely this wasn’t everything. It just couldn’t be.
Trying to shake off her dismal thoughts, Katie snatched up a towel and marched down to the pool. There were about thirty people swimming or relaxing at the umbrella tables. Don and Brad were with some other men drinking beer. Katie waved to them when they called to her to come and join them, but she shook her head no. Putting her towel down on the most isolated lounger she could find, Katie turned and walked over to the pool. She swam twenty laps, then climbed out and flopped down on the chair. Someone had a portable radio on. “It’s seven-fifteen in St. Louis, the temperature a balmy seventy-eight degrees.”
Katie closed her eyes, trying to shut her mind off, and suddenly she could almost feel Ramon’s warm firm lips moving with gentle coaxing over hers, then deepening his kiss until it was wildly erotic and she was joyously surrendering to the searching hunger of his mouth and hands. His deep voice spoke quietly to her heart: “I will live my life for you . . . I will make love to you until you cry out for me to stop . . . I will fill your days with gladness.”
Katie felt as if she were slowly suffocating. “We belong together,” he had said, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me that you know it. Say it.” She had said it. She had even known it as surely as she knew they couldn’t be together.
He was so handsome, so masculine with his beautiful black hair and dazzling white smile. Katie thought of the slight cleft in his chin and the way his eyes—“Ouch!” Yelping with surprise she jackknifed into a sitting position as icy water ran down her thigh.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Don grinned, sitting down on the lounge. Katie squeezed over to make more room for him, watching him warily. His eyes were glassy, his face slightly flushed; he looked as though he’d been drinking all afternoon. “Katie,” he said, his eyes delving into her deep cleavage exposed by the skimpy bikini top. “You really turn me on, do you know that?”
“I don’t think that’s very hard to do,” Katie replied with a fixed smile, pushing his hand away when his fingers started to trace the trickle of water across her left thigh.
He laughed. “Be nice to me, Katie. I could be very nice to you.”
“I’m not an old lady, and you’re not a boy scout,” Katie quipped, hiding her uneasiness behind flippancy.
“You have a clever little tongue, redhead. But there are better things to do with it than sniping at me. Let me show you an example.” His mouth started descending toward hers and Katie pulled back, averting her head.
“Don,” she almost pleaded, “I’m really trying not to make a scene but if you don’t stop this I’m going to start screaming and we’re both going to look very silly.”
He jerked back and glared at her. “What the hell’s the matter with you anyway?”
“Nothing!” Katie said. She didn’t want to make an enemy of him, she just wanted him to go away. “What do you want?” she asked finally.
“Are you kidding? I want this woman I’m looking at—the one with the gorgeous face, a luscious body and a virginal little mind.”
Katie looked him right in the eye. “Why?” she said baldly.
“Sweetheart,” he teased, while his eyes made a thorough inspection of her body. “That is a stupid question. But I’ll answer it the same way the man answered when they asked him why he wanted to climb the mountain. I want to climb you because you’re here. Do you want me to be more blunt? I want to climb on you, or if you prefer to, you can—”
“Get away from me,” Katie hissed. “You’re disgusting and you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk!” he said, offended.
“Then you’re just plain disgusting! Now go away.”
He stood up and shrugged. “Okay. Shall I send Brad over? He’s interested. Or how about Dean, he’s—”
“I don’t want any of you!” Katie said furiously.
Don was genuinely bewildered. “Why not? We’re no worse than the next group of guys. In fact, we’re better than most.”
Katie was slowly straightening, staring at him as his words began sinking into her brain, pounding in her head. “What did you say?” she whispered.
“I said we’re as good as the next group of guys, and better than most.”
“You’re right . . .” she breathed slowly. “You are absolutely right!”
“So what’s the problem? What are you saving it for, anyway? Or, more importantly, who are you saving it for?”
And suddenly Katie knew. Oh God, she knew!
She almost stumbled over Don in her hurry to get around him. “It’s not that damn Spaniard, is it?” he shouted after her.
But Katie couldn’t take the time to answer, she was already running. Running down the path, bursting past the door in the stockade fence and breaking a fingernail in her urgent haste to pull open the sliding glass door.
Breathless with fear that she was already too late, she dialed the number Ramon had written on the pad beside the phone. She counted the rings, her hope dying with each one that went unanswered.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice said on the tenth ring when Katie was about to hang up.
“I—I’d like to speak to Ramon Galverra. Is he there?” Katie was so surprised to hear a woman’s voice answering what was obviously a residential phone, that she nearly forgot to give the information the woman was obviously waiting for. “My name is Katherine Connelly.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Connelly, Mr. Galverra isn’t in. We expect him shortly, though. Shall I ask him to call you?”
“Yes, please,” Katie said. “Would you be certain that he gets the message that I called, as soon as he arrives?”
“Of course. As soon as he arrives.”
Katie hung up the phone and stared at it. Was Ramon really out, or had he asked that friendly-sounding woman to fend Katie off? He’d been furious when Katie told him she’d been married before . . . perhaps now that his passion had had two days to cool off, he was no longer interested in acquiring a “used” wife. What should she do if he didn’t return her call? Should she assume that he didn’t get her message and call him back? Or should she take the hint and realize that he didn’t want to talk to her?
Twenty minutes later the phone rang. Katie snatched it up and breathlessly said, “Hello.”
Ramon’s voice sounded even deeper on the telephone. “Katie?”
She squeezed the receiver so tightly that her hand ached. “You said to call if I—I wanted to talk.” She paused, hoping he would now say something to help her, but he remained silent. Drawing a long breath, Katie said, “I would like to talk . . . but I’d rather not do it on the telephone. Ramon, could you possibly come over?”
There was no emotion in his voice. All he said was “Yes.”
But that was enough. Katie glanced down at the yellow bikini and flew into her room to change it. She debated over what to wear as if what she selected might make the difference between success and failure. Finally choosing a soft peach cowl-neck top and matching slacks, she dried and brushed her hair, added peach lipstick, some blusher, and then mascara. Her eyes were sparkling and her color was high as she looked in the mirror. “Wish me luck,” she said to her reflection.
She went into the living room, started to sit down, then snapped her fingers. “Scotch,” she said aloud. Ramon liked Scotch; she didn’t have any. Leaving the front door slightly ajar, Katie raced next door and borrowed a bottle of J&B from the man who lived there.
She half-expected to find Ramon waiting for her in the apartment when she came back, but he wasn’t. She went into the kitchen and fixed Ramon’s Scotch the way he ordered it when they were out—on the rocks with a splash. Critically, she held the glass up to the light surveying the contents. Exactly how much was a splash, anyway? And why had she done such a stupid thing as to mix his drink so early that the ice would melt by the time he got here? She decided she would drink it. Wrinkling her nose at the taste, she carried the glass into the living room and sat down.
At a quarter to nine the shrill ring of the doorbell brought her leaping out of her chair.
Restraining herself at the last moment from flinging the door wide, she composed her features into a formal smile and opened it properly. In the mellow glow of the gaslight Ramon was framed in her doorway, looking very tall and devastatingly handsome in a light gray suit and maroon tie. His eyes looked directly into hers, his expression unreadable, neither warm nor cold.
“Thank you for coming,” Katie said, stepping back and closing the door after him. She was so nervous she couldn’t think where to begin. She decided to opt for a compromise. “Sit down and I’ll fix you a drink.”
“Thank you,” he said. He walked into the living room and took off his suit jacket. Without even turning his head to glance in her direction, he tossed it carelessly over the back of a chair.
Katie was thoroughly abashed by his attitude, but at least if he was taking off his jacket he expected to stay for a little while. When she returned from the kitchen with his drink, he was standing with his back to her, his hands in his pockets, staring out her living-room window. He turned when he heard her and for the first time Katie saw the deeply etched lines of strain and fatigue at his eyes and mouth. Anxiously she scanned his features. “Ramon, you look exhausted.”
He loosened the knot of his tie and took the glass Katie was holding out to him. “I have not come here to discuss the state of my health, Katie,” he informed her brusquely.
“No, I know,” Katie sighed. He was cold, remote and, Katie sensed, still extremely angry with her. “You aren’t going to help me get this over with, are you?” she said, voicing her thought aloud.
His dark eyes were impassive. “That depends entirely upon what you have to say to me. As I told you before, there was little I could offer you if you married me, but one of the things I offered you was honesty between us. Always. I expect the same from you.”
Nodding, Katie turned away from him, grasping the back of a chair for physical support since it was perfectly obvious she wasn’t going to get any moral support from the man behind her. Drawing a shaky breath, Katie closed her eyes. “Ramon, at the church on Tuesday, I—I realized that you are probably a devout Catholic. And then I realized that if you are, you couldn’t—wouldn’t marry me if I had been married in the Catholic church and then divorced. That’s why I told you I was divorced. It wasn’t a lie, I was divorced, but David is dead now.”
The voice behind her was coolly unemotional. “I know.”
Katie gripped the back of the chair so hard her fingers went numb. “You know? How could you?”
“You had told me once before that I reminded you of someone else, someone whose death brought you great release. When you were telling me about your former husband, you again made the remark that I remind you of him. I assumed that you probably did not know two men who remind you of me. Besides, you are an extremely transparent liar.”
His complete indifference tore at Katie’s heart. “I see,” she said, her throat constricting with tears. Apparently Ramon didn’t want another man’s wife, regardless of whether she was a divorcée or a widow. As if she had to further punish herself by actually having him tell her that in so many words, Katie whispered, “Would you mind explaining to me why you are still angry with me, even after what I’ve just told you? I know you are, only I’m not sure why you are, and—”
His hands gripped her arms and he spun her around, his fingers pressing into her flesh. “Because I love you!” he gritted tersely. “And for two days you have put me through a living hell.” His voice sounded harsh, as if it were being gouged from his chest. “I love you, and for nearly forty-eight hours I have waited for you to call, dying inside with each hour that you did not.”
With a teary smile Katie laid her hand against his cheek and jaw, trying to soothe away the tautness with her fingertips. “They’ve been terrible days for me too.”
His arms closed around her with stunning force, his mouth opening over hers in a kiss that demanded she return the same stormy passion that he was offering her. His hands claimed her body, stroking her neck, her back, her breasts, then sweeping down, pulling her tightly to his rigidly aroused manhood. Instinctively Katie moved her hips against him. Ramon groaned with rampaging desire and plunged his hand into her hair, holding her mouth to his as his tongue began matching her inflaming movements.
He tore his mouth from hers and lavished scorching kisses on her face, her eyes, her neck. “You are going to drive me out of my mind, do you know that?” he murmured thickly. But Katie couldn’t answer. His lips had already recaptured hers and she was drowning in an ocean of pleasure, willingly sinking beneath the waves of rapture that sent her deeper with each touch of his hungry, searching mouth and hands.
Katie slowly began to surface as the pressure of his lips against hers lessened, and then was gone. Feeling deprived and bereft, she laid her cheek against his chest, her heart racing like a trip-hammer and his own thundering in her ear.
His hand cupped her cheek and Katie lifted her gaze to his, melting at the new tenderness she saw in his expression. “Katie, I would have married you if you had married that animal in every church on earth and then divorced him in every court.”
Katie hardly recognized the breathy whisper that was her own voice. “I thought the reason you were furious was because I’d let things come so far between us without telling you I had been married before.”
He shook his head. “I was furious because I knew you were lying to me about your husband being alive so that you would have an excuse not to marry me; furious because I knew you were terrified of what you felt for me, and yet I could not remain here longer to overcome your fear.”
Katie leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his warmly responsive lips, but when his arms tightened around her she drew back. Stepping away from the temptation of his nearness, she said, “I think, before I lose my nerve and it gets any later, I had better tell my parents. After tonight there are only three days left for us to try to win them over before we leave.”
Katie walked over to the coffee table, picked up the telephone and started to dial her parents’ number, then looked up at Ramon. “I was going to tell them we were coming over there, but I think it would be better if I had them come here—” She gave him a nervous, rueful smile. “They can throw you out of their house but they can’t very well throw you out of mine.”
Waiting for her parents’ phone to be answered, she raked her fingers through her rumpled hair, trying to think of how to begin. When her mother answered Katie’s mind went completely blank. “Hi, mom,” she said. “It’s me.”
“Katie, is anything wrong? It’s nine-thirty.”
“No, nothing’s wrong.” She paused. “I was hoping that, if it’s not too late, you and dad might like to come over for drinks.”
Her mother laughed. “I suppose we could. We just came back from dinner at the club. We’ll be there right away.”
Katie, searching madly for some way to keep her mother on the phone while she thought of a way to broach the subject at hand said, “By the way, better bring whatever you want to drink. All I have is Scotch.”
“Okay, honey, we will. Want us to bring anything else?”
“Tranquilizers and smelling salts,” Katie mumbled indistinctly.
“What, dear?”
“Nothing, Mom, there’s something I have to tell you, but before I do, I want to ask you something. Do you remember when I was a little girl and you told me that no matter what I did, you and Dad would always love me? You said that no matter how terrible it was, you—”
“Katie,” her mother interrupted sharply. “If you are trying to alarm me, you’re succeeding very well.”
“Not half as well as I’m about to,” Katie sighed miserably. “Mom, Ramon is here. I’m going to leave with him on Sunday and marry him in Puerto Rico. We want to talk to you and dad about it tonight.”
For a second the line went silent, then her mother said, “And we are going to want to talk to you, Katherine.”
Katie hung up and looked at Ramon, who lifted his brows in inquiry. “I’m Katherine again.” Despite her attempt at joking, Katie was unhappily aware of how devastated her parents were going to be by what she was doing. She was going to stand by her decision to go to Puerto Rico, no matter what they said, but she loved them very much and she hated the unhappiness she was about to cause them.
She waited at the window with Ramon beside her, his arm comfortingly around her shoulders. She knew from the speed at which a pair of headlights made the sweeping turn into the entrance of her apartment complex that her parents had arrived.
Feeling sad and very apprehensive, Katie started to move toward the door but Ramon’s voice stopped her. “Katie, if I could take the burden of what you are about to do from your shoulders and your heart, I would do it. I cannot—but I can promise you that for the next three days you will bear the only unhappiness I will ever intentionally cause you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered achingly, putting her hand in his outstretched palm, feeling strength in the reassuring firmness of his fingers gripping hers. “Have I ever told you how much I love the things you say to me?”
“No,” he said with a faint grin. “But it is a good place to start.”
There was no time for Katie to ponder his meaning because the doorbell was already ringing insistently.
Katie’s father, who was famous for his charm and good manners, tore into the apartment like a whirlwind, accepted Ramon’s outstretched hand and said, “Good to see you again, Galverra, enjoyed having you at the house the other day; you’ve got a goddamned nerve asking Katie to marry you and you’re out of your goddamned mind if you think we’ll permit it.”
Katie’s mother, renowned for her ability to maintain her composure even in times of extreme stress, stormed in right on his heels, holding the neck of a liquor bottle in each hand like a juggler. “We won’t stand for this,” she announced. “Mr. Galverra, we will have to ask you to leave,” she said, one bottle pointing majestically to the door. “And you, Katherine, have lost your mind. Go to your room.” The other bottle swept grandly toward the hall.
Katie, watching the unfolding scene with fascinated horror, finally recovered enough to say, “Dad, sit down. Mother, you too.” When they both sank into chairs, Katie opened her mouth to speak, realized that her mother was holding both liquor bottles propped erectly on her knees, and pried them from her fingers. “Here, Mom, give me these before you hurt yourself.”
Having relieved her mother of both weapons, Katie straightened, tried to think of how to begin, rubbed her palms against her peach-clad thighs, and cast a helpless look of appeal to Ramon.
Ramon put his arm around Katie’s slim waist, ignoring her father’s furious scowl at the gesture, and said calmly to him, “Katie has agreed to return to Puerto Rico with me on Sunday, where we will be married. I realize that this is difficult for you to accept, but it will mean a great deal to Katie to know that she has your support in what she is doing.”
“Well, she sure as hell isn’t going to get it!” her father snapped.
“In that case,” Ramon said evenly, “you will be forcing her to choose between us, and we will both lose. She will still come with me, but she will hate me for causing a rift between the two of you—and she will hate you also, for not understanding and wishing her happiness. It is important to me that Katie be happy.”
“It happens to be damned important to us too,” Mr. Connelly grated. “Just exactly what kind of life can you give her, living on some two-bit farm in Puerto Rico?”
Katie saw Ramon pale, and she could have strangled her father for trampling on Ramon’s pride like this. But when Ramon answered, his voice was composed. “She will have only a small cottage in which to live, but the roof does not leak. She will always have food to eat and clothing to wear. And I will give her children. Beyond that, I can promise Katie nothing—except that she will awaken every single day of her life knowing that she is loved.”
Katie’s mother’s eyes filled with tears, the hostility was draining from her face as she stared at Ramon. “Oh my God . . .” she whispered.
Katie’s father, however, was just warming up for battle. “So, Katie will be a drudge, a farm wife, is that it?”
“No, she will be my wife.”
“And work like the wife of a farmer!” her father said contemptuously.
Ramon’s jaw clenched and he turned even paler. “She will have some work to do, yes.”
“Are you aware, Mr. Galverra, that Katie has been to a farm only once in her entire life? I happen to recall the event very vividly.” His relentless gaze swerved to his startled daughter. “Do you want to tell him about it, Katherine, or shall I?”
“Dad, I was only twelve years old!”
“So were your three friends, Katherine. But they didn’t scream when the farmer wrung the chicken’s neck. They didn’t call him a murderer at his own table and refuse to eat chicken for two years. They didn’t find the horses ‘smelly,’ the process of milking a cow ‘gross,’ and a multimillion-dollar farm ‘a great big stinking place filled with filthy animals.’ ”
“Well,” Katie shot back mutinously, “they didn’t happen to fall into a pile of manure, get bitten by a goose, or kicked by a blind horse, either!” Turning swiftly to Ramon to try to defend herself, Katie was amazed to find him looking down at her with a crooked grin.
“You’re laughing now, Galverra,” Mr. Connelly said angrily, “but you won’t be laughing when you discover that Katie’s idea of living within a strict budget is spending everything she makes and charging anything else she wants to my account. She can’t cook anything that doesn’t come in a bag, box or can; she doesn’t know which end of a needle to thread; she—”
“Ryan, you are exaggerating!” Mrs. Connelly unexpectedly intervened. “Katie has lived on her own income since the day she graduated from college, and she does know how to sew.”
Ryan Connelly looked ready to explode. “She does petitpoint or some damn thing like that. And not well! I still don’t know whether that thing she did for us is supposed to be a fish or an owl, and neither do you!”
Katie’s shoulders began to shake with helpless mirth. “It’s a—a mushroom,” she croaked, turning into Ramon’s willing arms and dissolving with laughter. “I—I made it when I was fourteen.” Wiping at her tears of hilarity, she leaned back in Ramon’s embrace and raised her sparkling eyes to his. “Do you know—I thought they were going to think you weren’t good enough for me.”
“What we think,” Ryan Connelly snapped, “is—”
“Is that Katie is ill-equipped for the kind of life she would have to lead with you, Mr. Galverra,” Mrs. Connelly interrupted her husband’s outburst. “Katie’s ‘working’ experience has been at college and in her job, the sort of work that is done with the mind, not the hands and back. She graduated with high honors from college, and I know how hard she works at the job she has. But Katie has absolutely no experience with backbreaking physical labor.”
“Nor will she have, being married to me,” Ramon replied.
Ryan Connelly was evidently finished with trying to be reasonable. He jerked to his feet, took two long furious strides, then swung around glaring at Ramon with anger emanating from every pore. “I misjudged you the other day at our house, Galverra. I thought to myself that there was pride in you, and honor, but I was wrong.”
Beside her, Katie felt Ramon go absolutely rigid as her father continued his blistering tirade. “Oh, I knew you were poor—you said as much, but still I gave you credit for having some decency. Yet you stand here and tell us that although you can offer her nothing, you are going to take our daughter from us, take her from everything she knows, take her from her family, her friends—I ask you, is this the action of a decent, honorable man? You answer me that, if you dare.”
Katie, about to intercede, took one look at Ramon’s murderous expression and stepped back. In a low, terrible voice, he drawled contemptuously, “I would take Katie away from my own brother! Is that answer enough for you?”
“Yes, by God, it’s enough! It tells me what kind of—”
“Sit down, Ryan,” Mrs. Connelly said sharply. “Katie, you and Ramon go into the kitchen and fix our drinks. I would like to speak to your father privately.”
Shamelessly eavesdropping in the doorway while Ramon fixed the drinks, Katie watched her mother walk over to her father and put her hand on his arm. “We’ve lost the battle, Ryan, and you’re antagonizing the victor. That man is trying very hard not to fight you, yet you’re deliberately backing him into a corner until he has no choice but to retaliate.”
“He’s not the victor yet, dammit! Not till Katie gets on that plane with him. Until then, he’s the enemy, but he’s no victor.”
Mrs. Connelly smiled gently. “He’s no enemy of ours. At least, he’s no enemy of mine. He hasn’t been since the moment he looked at you and told you that Katie will live every day of her life knowing that she is loved.”
“Words! Nothing but words!”
“Spoken to us, Ryan. Spoken sincerely and without embarrassment to Katie’s parents—not whispered to her in some heated moment. I can’t even think of a man who would say a thing like that to a girl’s parents. He’ll never let her be hurt. He won’t be able to give her the material things, but he’ll give her everything in life that really matters. I know he will. Now give in gracefully, or you’ll lose even more.” When her husband looked away from her, she touched his face, turning it toward her.
His deep blue eyes, so like Katie’s, were suspiciously moist. “Ryan,” she said softly, “it’s not really the man himself that you object to, is it?”
He sighed, a deep ragged sigh. “No,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It’s not the man, not really. It’s just that I—I don’t want him to take my Katie away. She’s always been my favorite, you know that, Rosemary. She was the only one of our children who ever gave a damn about me; the only one who ever saw me as something beside an open wallet; the only one who ever noticed when I was tired or worried and tried to cheer me up.” He drew a long, labored breath. “Katie’s been like a ray of sunlight in my life, and if he takes her away, I won’t be able to see my Katie shine anymore.”
Katie, unaware that Ramon had come to stand behind her, leaned her head against the doorframe, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks.
Tipping up his wife’s chin, Ryan took out his handkerchief and dabbed at the tears on her face. Mrs. Connelly managed a smile. “We should have expected this . . . it’s exactly the sort of thing Katie would do. She was always so full of joy and love, so ready to give of herself. She always befriended the child no one would play with, and there was never a stray dog that Katie didn’t fall in love with. Until now, I thought David had destroyed that beautiful, giving part of her, and I’ve hated him for it . . . but he didn’t.” Tears spilled over her lashes, glittering on her cheeks. “Oh, Ryan, don’t you see—Katie’s found another stray she loves.”
“The last one bit her,” Ryan chuckled sadly.
“This one won’t,” his wife said. “He’ll protect her.”
Holding his tearful wife in his arms, Ryan glanced across the room and saw that Katie was likewise crying in Ramon’s arms, his handkerchief clutched in her hand. With a fleeting smile of conciliation at the tall man who held his daughter so protectively close, Ryan said, “Ramon, do you have a spare handkerchief?”
The brief flash of Ramon’s smile accepted the truce. “For the women, or for us?”
When her parents left, Ramon asked to use the telephone and Katie went out to the patio so that he could have privacy to make his call. She wandered around, absently touching the plants growing in huge redwood containers, then perched a hip on the back of one of the lounge chairs, gazing up at the stars spilling like diamonds across the sky.
Ramon came to the open glass door and stopped, arrested by the sheer beauty of the picture she made. Lamplight from within the apartment silhouetted her against the black velvet night. With her hair falling in a loose, glorious tumble down her shoulders, there was a lush ripeness in her profile, combined with a quiet pride in the tilt of her chin that added to her allure, making her seem at once provocative and elusive.
Sensing his presence, Katie turned her head slightly. “Is something wrong?” she asked, thinking of his phone call.
“Yes,” he said with tender gravity. “I am afraid that if I come any closer I will discover that you are only a dream.”
A smile that was sweet yet sensual touched Katie’s lips. “I’m very real.”
“Angels are not real. No man can expect to reach out and take an angel in his arms.”
Her smile widened delightfully. “When you kiss me, my thoughts are anything but angelic.”
Stepping onto the patio he crossed to her, his eyes looking deeply into hers. “And what are your thoughts when you sit alone out here gazing up at the sky like a goddess worshiping the stars?”
Just the timbre of his deep quiet voice stirred Katie; yet now that she had committed herself to him she felt a peculiar shyness. “I was thinking how unbelievable it is that in just seven days my entire life has changed. No, not seven days, seven seconds. The moment you asked me for directions, my whole life veered onto a different course. I keep wondering what would have happened if I had walked down the hall five minutes later.”
Ramon drew her gently to her feet. “Do you not believe in fate, Katie?”
“Only when things go wrong.”
“And when they go beautifully?”
Katie’s eyes danced. “Then, it’s because of my clever planning and hard work.”
“Thank you,” he said with a boyish grin.
“For what?”
“For all of the times in the last seven days that you have made me smile.” His lips covered hers in a warm, sweet kiss.
Katie realized that he had no intention of making love to her tonight, and she was grateful and touched by his restraint. She was emotionally spent and physically exhausted.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” she asked a few minutes later, when he was leaving.
“My time is yours,” Ramon said. “I had intended to leave for Puerto Rico tomorrow. Since we will not be leaving until Sunday, the only commitment I have here is to breakfast with your father in the morning.”
“Would you like to take me to work tomorrow morning before you meet him?” Katie asked. “It will give us some time together and you could pick me up afterward.”
Ramon’s arms tightened around her. “Yes,” he whispered.