Heart of Ice
Heart of Ice
Diana Palmer
Can an isolated rancher fall for the one woman who thaws his heart? Find out in Diana Palmer's beloved HEART OF ICE.The last thing in the world romance novelist Katriane James wanted to do was spend her holiday with her roommate's arrogant, infuriating brother. A rugged man like Egan Winthrop belonged in New York City about as much as she belonged out in the wilderness of his ranch.But Egan's powerful presence soon stripped Katriane of her defenses, and his offer of a visit to his Wyoming home was one she couldn't refuse. Soon Katriane had lost her heart as completely as the heroines in her own stories. But how could she convince Egan that, unlike the women in her books, she had never yet been loved?
Can an isolated rancher fall for the one woman who thaws his heart? Find out in Diana Palmer’s beloved HEART OF ICE.
The last thing in the world romance novelist Katriane James wanted to do was spend her holiday with her roommate’s arrogant, infuriating brother. A rugged man like Egan Winthrop belonged in New York City about as much as she belonged out in the wilderness of his ranch.
But Egan’s powerful presence soon stripped Katriane of her defenses, and his offer of a visit to his Wyoming home was one she couldn’t refuse. Soon Katriane had lost her heart as completely as the heroines in her own stories. But how could she convince Egan that, unlike the women in her books, she had never yet been loved?
Heart of Ice
New York TimesandUSA TODAYBestselling Author
Diana Palmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader (#ulink_edf00603-6ae6-5546-a8aa-7d3385c774b7),
I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.
But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.
I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.
Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.
Diana Palmer
Table of Contents
Cover (#u634002d1-1fc9-5e41-87cc-ea479242f912)
Back Cover Copy (#udd02dd37-8587-5bea-a373-a83cedf92394)
Title Page (#u9e9400c9-434a-5dc6-9638-34dc8f596327)
Author Note (#u3ef96171-55dc-5b15-8f95-a4eb00799630)
Chapter One (#u6cba307a-a502-5e82-bf4a-41ec6e27c411)
Chapter Two (#u75a70967-028a-5a1e-b559-2e7ec7f2fdba)
Chapter Three (#ue771905d-9ddb-5826-987a-01cdfd1d8cbe)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright Page (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_e7758f71-639f-5d28-890b-3d0c6ef91e8f)
“You didn’t!” Katriane wailed at her best friend. “Not at Christmas!”
Ada looked pained and visibly shrank an inch. “Now, Kati…” she began placatingly, using the nickname she’d given the taller girl years ago. “It’s a huge apartment. Absolutely huge. And you and I will be going to parties all over town, and there’s the charity ball at the Thomsons’…It will be all right, you’ll see. You won’t even notice that he’s here.”
“I’ll notice,” Kati said shortly. Her reddish gold hair blazed in the ceiling light, and her brown eyes glared.
“It’s our first Christmas without Mother,” Ada tried again. “He’s got nobody but me.”
“You could go to the ranch for Christmas,” Kati suggested, hating the idea even as she said it.
“And leave you here alone? What kind of friend would I be then?”
“The kind who isn’t sticking me with her horrible brother during my one holiday a year!” came the hot reply. “I worked myself to the bone, researching that last book. I was taking a rest between contractual obligations…just Christmas. How can I rest with Egan here?”
“He’ll be fun to have around,” Ada suggested softly.
“We’ll kill each other!” Kati groaned. “Ada, why do you hate me? You know Egan and I don’t get along. We’ve never gotten along. For heaven’s sake, I can’t live under the same roof with your brother until Christmas! Have you forgotten what happened last time?”
Ada cleared her throat. “Look, you planned to set that next big historical in Wyoming, didn’t you, on a ranch? Who knows more about ranching in Wyoming than Egan? You could look upon it as an educational experience—research.”
Kati just glared.
“Deep down,” Ada observed, “you both probably really like each other. It’s just that you can’t…admit it.”
“Deep down,” her friend replied, “I hate him. Hate. As in to dislike intensely. As in to obsessively dislike.”
“That’s splitting an infinitive,” Ada pointed out.
“You are an actress, not an educator” came the sharp retort.
Ada sighed, looking small and dark and vulnerable. So unlike her elder brother. “I may wind up being an educator, at this rate,” she said. “I am sort of between jobs.”
“You’ll get another one,” Kati said easily. “I’ve never seen anyone with your talent. You got rave reviews in your last play.”
“Well, maybe something will turn up. But, getting back to Egan…”
“Must we?” Kati groaned. She turned, worrying the thick waves of her long hair irritatedly. “Don’t do this to me, Ada. Uninvite him.”
“I can’t. He’s already on the way.”
“Now?” Kati looked hunted. She threw up her hands. “First my royalty check gets lost in the mail when my car payment is due. Now I wind up with a sidewinder to spend Christmas with….”
“He’s my brother,” Ada said in a small voice. “He has no one. Not even a girlfriend.”
“Egan?” Two eyebrows went straight up. “Egan always has a girl friend. He’s never between women.”
“He is right now.”
“Did he go broke?” Kati asked with a sweet smile.
“Now, Kati, he’s not that bad to look at.”
That was true enough. Egan had a body most men would envy. But his face was definitely not handsome. It was craggy and rough and uncompromising. Just like Egan. She could see those glittering silver eyes in her sleep sometimes, haunting her, accusing her—the way they had that last time. She hated Egan because he’d misjudged her so terribly. And because he’d never admitted it. Not then, or since.
She folded her arms over her breasts with a curt sigh. “Well, Mary Savage used to think he was Mr. America,” she conceded.
Ada eyed her closely. “He’s just a poor, lonely old cattleman. He can’t help it if women fall all over him.”
“Egan Winthrop, poor? Lonely?” Kati pursed her lips. “The old part sounds about right, though.”
“He’s thirty-four,” Ada reminded her. “Hardly in his dotage.”
“Sounds ancient to me,” Kati murmured, staring out over the jeweled night skyline of Manhattan.
“We’re both twenty-five.” Ada laughed. “Nine years isn’t so much.”
“Fudge.” She leaned her head against the cold windowpane. “He hates me, Ada,” she said after a minute, and felt the chill all up and down her body. “He’ll start a fight as sure as there’s a sun in the sky. He always starts something.”
“Yes, I know,” Ada confessed. She joined the taller woman at the window. “I don’t understand why you set him off. He’s usually the soul of chivalry with women.”
“I’ve seen him in action,” Kati said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me about that silky charm. But it’s all surface, Ada. Egan lets nobody close enough to wound.”
“For someone who’s been around him only a few times in recent years, and under the greatest pressure from me, you seem to know him awfully well,” Ada mumbled.
“I know his type,” she said shortly. “He’s a taker, not a giver.”
“Neither one of you ever gives an inch,” Ada remarked. She studied her friend closely. “But I had to invite him. He’s the only family I have.”
Kati sighed, feeling oddly guilty. She hugged the shorter girl impulsively. “I’m sorry. I’m being ratty and I don’t mean to. You’re my friend. Of course you can invite your awful brother for Christmas. I’ll grit my teeth and go dancing with Jack and pretend I love having him here. Okay?”
“That I’ll have to see to believe.”
Kati crossed her heart. “Honest.”
“Well, since that’s settled, how about if we go and get a Christmas tree?” Ada suggested brightly.
Kati laughed. “Super,” she said and grabbed up her coat to follow Ada out the door. “And if we get one big enough,” she mumbled under her breath, “maybe we can hang Egan from one of the limbs.”
They trudged through four tree lots before they found just the right tree. It was a six-foot Scotch pine, full and bushy and perfect for their apartment. They stuffed it into the back of Kati’s Thunderbird and carried it home, along with boxes of ornaments and new tinsel to add to their three-year supply in the closet.
Ada went out to get a pizza while Kati tied ribbon through the bright balls and hung them lovingly on the tree. She turned on some Christmas music and tried not to think about Egan. It seemed so long ago that they’d had that horrible blowup….
It had been five years since Kati first set eyes on Egan Winthrop. She and Ada had met at school, where both were majoring in education. Ada had later switched to drama, and Kati had decided to study English while she broke into the fiction market in a small way. Three years ago, after graduation, they’d taken this apartment together.
Egan and Kati had been at odds almost from the first. Kati got her first glimpse of the tall rancher at school, when she and Ada were named to the college honors society in their junior year. Egan and Mrs. Winthrop had both come. Kati had no relatives, and Ada had quickly included her in family plans for an evening out afterward. Egan hadn’t liked that. From the first meeting of eyes, it had been war. He disapproved vehemently of Kati’s chosen profession, although he was careful not to let Ada or his mother see just how much he disliked Kati. They’d hardly spoken two words until that fateful summer when Kati had flown out to the ranch with Ada for the Fourth of July.
It had been the first year she’d roomed with Ada, almost three years ago. Ada’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer, and the family knew that despite the treatments, it would only be a matter of a year or two before she wouldn’t be with them. Everyone had gone to the Wyoming ranch for the July Fourth holidays—including Kati, because Ada refused to leave her alone in New York. Kati’s parents were middle-aged when she was born, and had died only a little apart just before she finished high school. She had cousins and uncles and aunts, but none of them would miss her during the July vacation. So, dreading Egan’s company, she’d put on a happy face and gone.
She couldn’t forget Egan’s face when he’d seen her getting off the plane with his sister. He hadn’t even bothered to disguise his distaste. Egan had a mistaken view of romance writers’ morals and assumed that Kati lived the wild life of her heroines. It wasn’t true, but it seemed to suit him to believe that it was. He gave her a chilly reception, his silvery eyes telling her that he wished she’d stayed in New York.
But his cousin Richard’s enthusiastic greeting more than made up for Egan’s rudeness. She was hugged and hugged and enthused over, and she ate it up. Richard was just her age, a dark-haired, dark-eyed architect with a bright future and a way with women. If he hadn’t been such a delightful flirt, the whole incident might have been avoided. But he had been, and it wasn’t.
Richard had taken Kati to the Grand Teton National Park for the day, while Mrs. Winthrop soaked up the attention she was getting from her son and daughter. She was a lot like Ada, a happy, well-adjusted person with a loving disposition. And none of Egan’s cynicism. Kati had liked her very much. But she and Richard had felt that Mrs. Winthrop needed some time alone with her children. So they’d driven to the park and hiked and enjoyed the beauty of the mountains rising starkly from the valley, and afterward they’d stopped in Jackson for steaks and a salad.
On the way home, Richard’s car had had a flat tire. Richard, being the lovable feather-brain he was, had no spare. In that part of the country on a holiday night, there wasn’t a lot of traffic. So they walked back to the ranch—which took until four in the morning.
Egan had been waiting up. He said nothing to Richard, who was so tired that he was hardly able to stand. Richard went inside, leaving all the explanations to Kati.
“You live down to your reputation, don’t you?” he asked with a smile that chilled even in memory. “My God, you might have had a little consideration for my mother. She worried.”
Kati remembered trying to speak, but he cut her off with a rough curse.
“Don’t make it worse by lying,” he growled. “We both know what you are…you with your loose morals and your disgusting books. What you do with my cousin is your business, but I don’t want my holidays ruined by someone like you. You’re not welcome here any longer. Make some excuse to leave tomorrow.”
And he walked away, leaving Kati sick and near tears. She hadn’t let them show, she was too proud. And she’d managed to get to bed without waking Ada, who shared a room with her. But the next morning, cold-eyed and hating Egan more than ever, she packed her suitcase, gave some excuse about an unexpected deadline and asked Richard to take her to the airport.
They were on the porch when Egan came out the front door, looking irritated and angry and strangely haggard.
“I’d like to speak to you,” he told Kati.
She remembered looking at him as if he were some form of bacteria, her back stiff, her eyes full of hatred.
“Go ahead,” she told him.
He glared at Richard, who cleared his throat and mumbled something about getting the car.
“Why didn’t you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“Why bother, when you already knew?” she asked in glacial tones.
“I didn’t know,” he ground out.
“How amazing,” she replied calmly. “I thought you knew everything. You seem to have made a hobby out of my life—the fictionalized version, of course.”
He looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t apologize. “Richard had been drinking. It was four in the morning—”
“We had a very long walk,” she told him curtly. “About fifteen or twenty miles. Richard wasn’t drunk. He was tired.” Her dark eyes glittered up at him. “I didn’t like you much before, Mr. Winthrop, but I like you even less now. I’ll make a point of keeping out of your vicinity. I wouldn’t want to contaminate you.”
“Miss James…” he began quietly.
“Good-bye.” She brushed past him, suitcase in hand, and got into Richard’s car. Ada and Mrs. Winthrop had tried to talk her into staying, but she was adamant about having an unexpected deadline and work pressure. And to this day, only she and that animal in Wyoming really knew why she’d left. Even Richard hadn’t been privy to the truth.
That episode had brought the antagonism between Egan and Kati out into the open, and their relationship seemed to go from bad to worse. It was impossible for Kati to stay in the same room with Egan these days. He’d find an excuse, any excuse, to nick her temper. And she’d always retaliate. Like last year…
Egan had been in town for some kind of conference and had stopped by the apartment to see Ada. Kati had been on her way to a department store in downtown Manhattan to autograph copies of her latest book, Renegade Lover, a historical set in eighteenth-century South Carolina. Egan had walked in to find her in her autographing clothes—a burgundy velvet dress cut low in front, and a matching burgundy hat crowned by white feathers. She’d looked like the heroine on the front of her book, and he immediately pounced.
“My God, Madame Pompadour,” he observed, studying her from his superior height.
She bristled, glaring up at him. “Wrong country,” she replied. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know that.”
His eyebrow jerked. “Why not? Just because I’m in oil and cattle doesn’t make me an ignoramus.”
“I never said a word, Mr. Winthrop, honey,” she replied, batting her long eyelashes at him.
The term of endearment, on reflection, must have been what set him off. His lips curled in an unpleasant smile. “You do look the part, all right,” he replied. “You could stand on the street corner and make a nice little nest egg…”
She actually slapped him—and didn’t even realize she had until she felt her fingers stinging and saw the red mark along his cheek.
“Damn you!” she breathed, shaking with fury.
His nostrils flared; his eyes narrowed and became frankly dangerous. “Lift your hand to me again, ever,” he said in that low, cold tone, “and you’ll wish you’d never set eyes on me.”
“I already do, Egan Almighty Winthrop! I already do.”
“Dress like a tramp and people are going to label you one,” he rejoined. His eyes cut away from her with distaste. “I wouldn’t be seen in public with you.”
“Thank God!” she threw after him, almost jumping up and down with indignation. “I wouldn’t want people to think I cared so little about who I was seen with!”
At that moment, luckily, Ada had rushed in from her bedroom to play peacemaker. Without another word, Kati had grabbed up her coat and purse and had run from the apartment, tears rolling down her cheeks. It was a miracle that she managed to get herself back together by the time she reached the department store.
That was the last time she’d seen Egan Winthrop. And she never wanted to see him again. Oh, why had Ada agreed to let him come, knowing the state of hostility that existed between Egan and her? Why!
She put the last ball on the tree, and was reaching for the little golden angel that would sit atop it when she heard the door open.
It must be Ada with the pizza, of course, and she was starved. She reached up, slender in jeans and a pullover yellow velour sweater, laughing as she put the angel in place. As she moved, she knocked into one of the balls, but caught it just in time to keep it from dropping to the carpet.
“Back already?” she called. “I’m starved to death! Do you want to have it in here by the tree?”
There was a pregnant pause, and she felt eyes watching her. Nervous, she turned—to find herself staring at Egan Winthrop. Her hand clenched at the sight of him—so powerful and dark in his gray vested suit—and the fragile ball shattered under the pressure.
“You little idiot,” he muttered, moving forward to force open her hand.
She let him, numb, her eyes falling to the sight of his dark hands under her pale one where blood beaded from a small cut.
“I…wasn’t expecting…you,” she said nervously.
“Obviously. Do you have some antiseptic?”
“In the bathroom.”
He marched her into it and fumbled in the medicine cabinet for antiseptic and a bandage.
“Where’s Ada?” he asked as he cleaned the small cut, examined it for shards, and applied the stinging antiseptic.
“Out getting pizza,” she muttered.
He glanced up. He’d never been so close to her, and those silver eyes at point-blank range were frightening. So was the warmth of his lean, powerful body and the smell of his musky cologne.
His eyes searched hers quietly, and he didn’t smile. That wasn’t unusual. She’d only seen him smile at Ada or his mother. He was reserved to the point of inhibition most of the time. A hard man. Cold…
Something wild and frightening dilated her eyes as she met that long, lingering look, and her heart jumped. Her lips parted as she tore her gaze down to the small hand that was visibly trembling in his big ones.
“Nervous, Katriane?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m nervous,” she bit off, deciding that a lie would only amuse him. If granite could be amused.
“How long did it take Ada to talk you into this visit?” he asked.
She drew in a heavy breath. “All of a half hour,” she said gruffly. “And I still think it’s a horrible mistake.” She looked up at him defiantly. “I don’t want to spoil Christmas for her by fighting with you.”
His chin lifted as he studied her. “Then you’ll just have to be nice to me, won’t you?” he baited. “No snide remarks, no deliberate taunts…”
“Look who’s talking about snide remarks!” she returned. “You’re the one who does all the attacking!”
“You give as good as you get, don’t you?” he asked.
Her lower lip jutted. “It’s Christmas.”
“Yes, I know.” He studied her. “I like presents.”
“Is anyone going to give you one?” she asked incredulously.
“Ada,” he reminded her.
“Poor demented soul, she loves you,” she said, eyeing him.
“Women do, from time to time,” he returned.
“Ah, the advantages of wealth,” she muttered.
“Do you think I have to pay for it?” he asked with a cold smile. “I suppose a woman who sells it expects everyone to…”
Her hand lifted again, but he caught it this time, holding it so that she had to either stand on her tiptoes or have her shoulder dislocated.
“Let go!” she panted. “You’re hurting!”
“Then stop trying to hit me. Peace on earth, remember?” he reminded her, oddly calm.
“I’d like to leave you in pieces,” she mumbled, glaring up at him.
His eyes wandered from her wild, waving red-gold hair down past her full breasts to her small waist, flaring hips and long legs. “You’ve gained a little weight, haven’t you?” he asked. “As voluptuous as ever. I suppose that appeals to some men.”
“Ooooh!” she burst out, infuriated, struggling.
He let her go all at once and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, watching her with amusement as he lit it. “What’s the matter? Disappointed because you don’t appeal to me?”
“God forbid!”
He shook his head. “You’ll have to do better than this if you want to keep a truce with me for the next few days. I can’t tolerate hysterical women.”
She closed her eyes, willing him to disappear. It didn’t work. When she opened them, he was still there. She put away the antiseptic and bandages and went back into the living room, walking stiffly, to clean the debris of the shattered ball from the beige carpet.
“Don’t cut yourself,” he cautioned, dropping lazily into an armchair with the ashtray he’d found.
“On what, the ball or you?” she asked coldly.
He only laughed, softly, menacingly; and she fumbled with pieces of the ball while he watched her in that catlike, unblinking way of his.
“I thought Ada told me you’d stopped smoking,” she remarked when she was finished.
“I did. I only do it now when I’m nervous.” He took another long draw, his eyes mocking. “You give me the jitters, honey, didn’t you know?”
“Me and the cobalt bomb, maybe,” she scoffed. She threw away the debris and ran an irritated hand through her hair. “Do you want me to show you to your room, like a good hostess?” she asked.
“You’d show me to the elevator and press the Down button,” he said. “I’ll wait for my sister and a warmer welcome.”
It was Christmas, and he’d lost his mother, and she hated the surge of sympathy she felt. But knowing he’d toss it right back in her face kept her quiet. She went to the window and stared down at the busy street. “Ada, hurry,” she wanted to scream.
“I saw your book advertised on television the other day,” he remarked.
She turned around, arms folded defensively over her breasts. “Did you? Imagine, you watching television.”
He didn’t take her up on that. He crushed out his half-finished cigarette. “It sold out at the local bookstore.”
“I’m sure you bought all the copies—to keep your good neighbors from being exposed to it,” she chided.
His eyebrows arched. “In fact, I did buy one copy. To read.”
She went red from head to toe. The thought of Egan Winthrop reading Harvest of Passion made her want to pull a blanket over her head. It was a spicy book with sensuous love scenes, and the way he was looking her over made it obvious what he thought of the book and its author.
“I like historical fiction,” he remarked. “Despite having to wade through the obligatory sex to get to it.”
She flushed even more and turned away, too tongue-tied to answer him.
“How do you manage to stay on your feet with all that exhaustive research you obviously do?”
She whirled, her eyes blazing. “What do you mean by that?” she burst out.
He laughed softly, predatorily. “You know damned good and well what I mean. How many men does it take?”
The door opened just in time to spare his ears. Ada walked in and her face glowed with joy as she saw her brother. She tossed the pizza onto a chair and ran to him, to be swung up in his powerful arms and warmly kissed.
“You get prettier all the time,” he said, laughing, and the radiance in his face made Kati feel like mourning. She’d never bring that look to Egan’s face.
“And you get handsomer. I’m so glad you could come,” Ada said genuinely.
“I’m glad someone is,” he murmured, glancing at Kati’s flushed, furious face.
Ada looked past him, and her own expression sobered. “Ooops,” she murmured.
Kati swallowed her hostility. She wouldn’t ruin Christmas for Ada—she wouldn’t. She pinned a smile to her lips. “It’s all right. He patched me up when I cut my hand. We’re friends now. Aren’t we?” she asked, grinding her teeth together as she looked at Egan.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Bosom pals.” He stared at her breasts.
Ada grabbed him by the hand and half dragged him from the room. “Let me show you where to put your suitcase, Egan!” she said hastily.
Kati went to take the pizza into the kitchen and make coffee. And counted to ten, five times.
Chapter Two (#ulink_cf5d6778-ac4f-53c8-bf3b-8b5bed1b7faf)
“How have you been?” Ada asked her brother as the three of them sat around the dining room table munching pizza and drinking coffee.
“All right,” he said, staring at the thick brown mug that held his coffee. “You?”
Ada smiled. “Busy. It’s helped me not to dwell on Mama.”
“She’s better off,” Egan reminded her quietly.
“I know,” Ada said, her eyes misting. She shook her head and grabbed another slice of pizza. “Anybody else for seconds? There are three slices left.”
“No more for me,” Kati said with a speaking glance at Egan. “I wouldn’t want to get more voluptuous than I already am.”
“Nonsense,” blissfully ignorant Ada said. “You’re just right. Come on, have another slice.”
“Go ahead,” Egan taunted.
“Why don’t you?” she dared him.
“And be accused of making a pig of myself?” he asked innocently.
“Who would be so unkind as to call you a pig?” Kati asked sweetly.
“Excuse me,” Ada interrupted, “but it’s Christmas. Remember? Holly and mistletoe…?”
“Mistletoe?” Egan glanced at Kati. “I’d rather drink poison.”
Kati glared back. “Ditto!”
“Let’s watch television!” Ada suggested frantically. She dragged Kati into the living room and quickly turned on the set. “I’ll clear the table, you keep Egan company.”
“You’re just afraid of getting caught in the line of fire,” Egan accused as his sister rushed out of the room.
But Ada only grinned.
Egan eased down into the armchair he’d vacated earlier and stared at Kati. He’d taken off his coat and vest. Both sleeves of his white silk shirt were rolled up and the neck was opened. He didn’t wear an undershirt, and through the thin fabric, bronzed muscles and a thick pelt of hair were visible. That bothered Kati, so she carefully avoided looking at him while the evening news blared into the room.
“How’s the writing going?” Egan asked conversationally.
“Just fine, thanks,” she replied tersely.
“What are you working on now?”
She swallowed. Ada had finked on her, she just knew it. “Actually, I’m doing another historical.”
“On…?”
She cleared her throat. “Wyoming,” she mumbled.
“Pardon?” he said.
Her lips made a thin line. “Wyoming,” she said louder.
“A historical novel about Wyoming. Well, well. Have you done a lot of research?”
She glanced at him warily. “What do you mean?”
“Historical research,” he clarified, watching her. “You’ll have to mention cattle-ranching, I imagine?”
“Yes,” she said grudgingly.
“Know a lot about it, city lady?” he mocked.
She glared at him. “I have been on a ranch before.”
“Sure. Mine.” He stared down his nose at her. “I don’t imagine they have many big cattle ranches in Charleston?”
“We have good people,” she returned. “With excellent breeding.”
His eyebrows arched. “Yes, I know. My grandmother came from Charleston.”
She glared at him. “Did she, really?” she asked coldly.
He smiled softly. “She used to say it was where the Cooper and Ashley Rivers meet to form the Atlantic Ocean.”
She’d heard that, too, in her childhood in the South Carolina coastal city, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling with him.
“She was a redhead too,” he continued, waiting for a reaction.
“My hair isn’t red,” she said, predictably.
“Honey and fox fur,” he argued, studying it.
She flushed. That sounded oddly poetic, and she didn’t like the tingle that ran through her.
She glanced at her watch. “Excuse me. I’d better put on a dress.”
Egan glared. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes.” She left him sitting there and went to find Ada. “Jack’s coming for me at seven,” she reminded her friend. “I’ve got to get dressed.”
“I’ll go keep Egan company. Lucky you, to have a boyfriend in town.” She sighed. “Mine’s out at sea again.”
“Marshal will be back before you know it,” she murmured. “Sorry to run out on you.”
“You’ll have fun.” Ada grinned. “And so will I. I like Egan. He’s great company, even if he is my brother.”
Well, there was no accounting for taste. She couldn’t imagine Egan being great company; but then, she wasn’t related to him.
She put on a black cocktail dress and wore red accessories with it. Her eyes gave her a critical appraisal. She’d twirled her hair into a French twist and added a rhinestone clip to it, and she liked that elegant touch. She grinned. Jack would love it.
Jack Asher was a reporter for the New York Times, a political specialist who was intelligent and fun to be with. She’d known him for several months and enjoyed the occasional date. But things were still platonic between them because she didn’t want any serious involvement. She was too independent.
The doorbell rang while she was putting a gloss of lipstick on her mouth, and she knew Ada would get it. Then she remembered that Egan was here, and rushed to finish her makeup and get back into the living room.
Jack was standing in the hall, talking to Ada while Egan glared at him.
He cleared his throat when Kati joined him, looking painfully relieved to see her.
“Hi, lady,” he said with a forced smile. He was blond and blue-eyed and not nearly as tall or muscular as Egan. Sadly enough, in comparison he looked rather pale and dull.
But Kati grinned at him and Ada as if nothing were wrong. “Had to find my purse, but I’m ready when you are. Night, Ada. Egan,” she added, glancing his way.
Egan didn’t answer her. He was still glaring at Jack with those dangerous narrowed eyes glittering like new silver while he smoked a cigarette. Ada made a frantic gesture, but he ignored her too.
“Night, Ada,” Jack said uncomfortably and led Kati out the door.
“Whew!” Jack exclaimed when they reached the elevator. “I felt like an insect on a mounting board for a second there! Is he always like that? So…uncommunicative?”
“Egan?” Kati’s eyes flared up. “He’s usually much too communicative, if you want to know. We’re stuck with him for Christmas. Ada invited him because their mother died earlier this year. She felt sorry for him, being all alone.”
“I should think so,” Jack said gently. “Well, maybe he talks to her.” He frowned. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“Not one bit. Not one ounce. Not a fraction.” She glared at the elevator.
Jack laughed. “Poor guy!”
“Not Egan. Feel sorry for me. I’m stuck in the same apartment with him for the next week,” she moaned.
“You could always move in with me,” he offered.
She laughed, knowing the offer was a joke, just as it always had been. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. “Sure I could. I can just see your mother’s face.”
“Mother likes you.” He chuckled. “She’d probably be thrilled.”
“Only because she could pump me for my latest plots.” She grinned. “You know she’s one of my biggest fans. Sweet lady.”
“She’s sweet, all right. Well, where do you want to go? The Rainbow Grill?”
“Let’s save it for a special time. How about the Crawdaddy Room at the Roosevelt?”
He chuckled. “You just like to go there because of their pudding,” he accused.
“Well, it is terribly good,” she reminded him.
“I know, I know. Actually, I like it myself.”
She followed him into the elevator and put the confrontation with Egan right out of her mind.
A prime rib, a salad, several hard rolls and a dish of delicious whiskey pudding later, Kati sat drinking her coffee and looking around at the elegant surroundings. She saw a nice little old German waiter she knew from other visits there and smiled at him.
“Friend of yours?” Jack asked her.
“Everybody’s my friend.” She laughed. “I used to think New York was a cold place until I moved here. New Yorkers just take a little getting to know. And then they’re family. I love New York,” she sang softly, and laughed again.
“So do I. Of course, I was born here,” he added. He looked out the window at the traffic. “I’ve got tickets for a modern ballet, if you’d like to use them.”
“Could we?”
“Sure. Come on.”
He led her down a side street where a group of people were just entering what looked like an old warehouse. But inside, it was a theater, complete with live orchestra and lighted stage and some of the most beautiful modern ballet she’d ever watched. The people onstage looked like living art: the women delicate and pink in their tulle and satin, the men vigorous and athletic and vibrant. Kati had been going to the ballet for years, but this was something special.
Afterward, they went to a lounge and drank piña coladas and danced to the hazy music of a combo until the wee hours.
“That was fun,” she told Jack when he brought her home. “We’ll have to do it again.”
“Indeed we will. I’m sorry I didn’t think of the ballet weeks ago. I get free tickets.”
“Let’s do it again even if we have to pay for them,” she said, laughing.
“Suits me. I’ll call you in a few days. Looks like I may have to fly down to Washington on that latest scandal.”
“Call me when you get back, okay?”
“Okay. Night, doll.” He winked and was gone. He never tried to kiss her or make advances. With them, it was friendship instead of involvement, and she enjoyed his company very much. Jack had been married and his wife had died. He wanted involvement even less than she did and was glad to be going out with someone who wouldn’t try to tie him up in wedding paper.
Dreamily, she unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside. She closed the door and leaned back against it, humming a few bars of the classical piece that had accompanied one of the pieces at the ballet.
“Do you usually stay out this late?” Egan asked from the living room. He was standing by the window with a glass of amber liquid that looked like whiskey in his hand.
She stared at him. “I’m twenty-five,” she reminded him. “I stay out as late as I like.”
He moved toward her slowly, gracefully, his eyes holding hers. “Do you sleep with him?” he asked.
She caught her breath. “Egan, what I do with anyone is my business.”
He threw back the rest of his drink and set the glass on a small table in the hall, moving toward her until she felt like backing away.
“How is he?” he asked lazily. Then he caught her by the shoulders and held her in front of him, looking down quietly, holding her eyes.
Her lips parted as she met that intimidating stare. “Egan…”
His nostrils flared. The lean fingers that were holding her tightened. “Is he white all over?” he continued in a faintly mocking tone. “City boy.”
“Well, there aren’t many cattle to herd up here,” she said tautly.
“No, but there are too damn many people. You can’t walk two steps without running into someone,” he complained. “I couldn’t survive here. Answer me. Do you sleep with him?”
“That’s non—” she began.
“Tell me anyway. Does he do all those things to you that you write about in your books?” he asked, studying her. “Does he ‘strip you slowly,’ so that you can ‘feel every brush of his fingers…’”
“Egan!” She reached up to press her fingers against his lips, stopping the words as she flushed deeply.
He hadn’t expected the touch of her fingers. He caught them and held them as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. His eyes held hers.
“Is that the kind of man you like, Katriane Desiree?” he asked, using the full name that she didn’t know he’d ever heard.
She watched him helplessly. “I like…writers,” she managed.
“Do you?” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed its warm palm softly, slowly. His teeth nipped at her slender forefinger.
“Egan,” she breathed nervously.
He took the tip of her finger into his mouth and she felt his tongue touching it. “Afraid?” he murmured. “Don’t they say that a woman is instinctively afraid of a man she thinks can conquer her?”
She wrenched away from him like an animal at bay. “You’d be lucky!” she whispered. Was that her voice, shaking like that?
He stared at her, sliding his hands into his pockets, and the action stretched the fabric of his trousers tight over the powerful muscles of his legs. “So would you,” he returned. “But one of these days I might give you a thrill, honey. God knows, my taste never ran to virgins. And an experienced woman is…exciting.”
She felt the blood rush into her face, and she whirled on her heel. If she stayed there one second longer, she’d hit him! Boy, wouldn’t the joke be on him if he ever tried to take her to bed! Egan, in bed…
She went straight into the bathroom, oblivious that she might wake Ada, and ran herself a calming cool shower.
Chapter Three (#ulink_ec9bde75-f2e4-520a-82a3-c6db96b31d04)
Kati didn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the hard grip of Egan’s fingers on her shoulders, the touch of his mouth against her hand. She hated him, she thought miserably; that was why she couldn’t sleep.
She dragged into the kitchen just after daylight, with her long gold and beige striped caftan flowing lovingly over the soft curves of her body. Her tousled hair fell in glorious disarray around her shoulders, and her dark eyes were even darker with drowsiness.
With a long yawn, she filled the coffee pot and started it, then she reached for the skillet and bacon and turned on the stove. She was leaning back against the refrigerator with a carton of eggs in one hand and butter in the other when the kitchen door opened and Egan came in, dressed in nothing but a pair of tan slacks.
He stopped at the sight of her and stared. She did some staring of her own. He was just as she’d imagined him without that shirt—sexy as all get-out. Bronzed muscles rippled as he closed the kitchen door; a mat of hair on his chest curled down obviously below his belt buckle. His arms looked much more powerful without a concealing shirt, as did his shoulders. She could hardly drag her eyes away.
“I thought I’d fix myself a cup of coffee,” he said quietly.
“I just put some on,” she said.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean I have to wait until you drink your potful before I can make mine?” he asked.
She glared at him. So much for truces. “There’s a nice little coffee shop down on the corner,” she suggested with a venomous smile.
“I’ll tell Ada you’re being unkind to me,” he threatened. “Remember Ada? My sister? The one whose Christmas you said you didn’t want to spoil?”
She drew in a calming breath. “Do excuse me, Mr. Winthrop,” she said formally. “Wouldn’t you like to sit down? I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”
“Not until you tell me where you plan to pour it,” he returned.
“Don’t tempt me.” She reached up into the cabinet for a second cup and saucer while he pulled out a chair and straddled it.
When she turned back with the filled cups, she found him watching her. It unnerved her when he did that, and she spilled coffee into one of the saucers before she could set them on the table.
“Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked pleasantly.
“No,” she said. “I’m not used to sleeping late. I’m at my best early in the morning.”
A slow, wicked smile touched his hard mouth. “Most of us are,” he commented.
It didn’t necessarily mean what she thought it did, but she couldn’t help the blush. And that increased her embarrassment, because he laughed.
“Will you stop!” she burst out, glaring at him. “Oh, why don’t you take your coffee and go back to bed?”
“I’m hungry. Don’t I smell bacon?”
“Bacon!” She jumped up and turned it just in time. It was a nice golden brown.
“Going to scramble some eggs, too?” he asked.
“No, I thought I’d let you drink yours raw,” she said.
He only laughed, sipping his coffee. “I like raw oysters, but I draw the line at raw eggs. Want me to make the toast?”
“You can cook?”
“Don’t get insulting.” He stood up and found the bread and butter. “Get me a pan and some cinnamon and sugar.”
She stared at him.
“Cinnamon,” he said patiently. “It’s a spice—”
“I know what it is,” she grumbled, finding it. “Here. And I’ve lined the pan with aluminum foil. It’s all yours.”
“Ungrateful woman,” he muttered as he mixed the cinnamon and sugar in the shaker she’d handed him. He buttered the bread and spread the mixture on top.
“Don’t get conceited just because you can make cinnamon toast,” she mumbled. “After all, it isn’t exactly duckling a l’orange.”
“I’d like to see you cook that,” he remarked.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I could if I had a recipe.”
“So could I.” He turned on the oven and slid the toast in under the broiler. “Get me a pot holder.”
“Who was your personal slave yesterday?” she asked, tossing him a quilted pot holder.
“I liked the old days,” he murmured, glancing at her. “When men hunted and women cooked and had kids.”
“Drudgery,” she scoffed. “Women were little more than free labor….”
“Cosseted and protected and worried over and loved to death,” he continued, staring down at her. “Now they’re overbearing, pushy, impossible to get along with and wilder than bucks.”
“Look who’s talking about being wild!” she burst out.
He stared down his nose at her. “I’m a man.”
She drew in a breath and let it out, and her eyes involuntarily ran over him.
“No argument?” he asked.
She turned away. “Your toast’s burning.”
He took it out—nicely browned and smelling sweet and delicate—and put it on a plate while she scrambled eggs.
“I like mine fried, honey,” he commented.
“Okay. There’s a frying pan, grease is in the cabinet. If you’re too good to eat my scrambled eggs, you can mutilate your own any way you like.”
He chuckled softly, an odd sound that she’d never heard, and she turned to look up at him.
“Firecracker,” he murmured, his eyes narrow and searching. “Are you like that in bed?”
She jerked her eyes away and concentrated on the eggs. “Wouldn’t you like to get dressed before we eat?”
It was a mistake. A horrible mistake. Because then he knew what she hadn’t admitted since he walked into the room. That, stripped to the waist, he bothered her.
The arrogant beast knew it, all right. He moved lazily until he was standing just behind her…so close that she felt him and smelled him and wanted nothing more out of life than to turn around and slide her hands all over that broad chest.
His hands caught her waist, making her jump, and eased her back against him so that she could feel the warm, hard muscles of his chest and stomach against her back. The caftan was paper-thin, and it was like standing naked in his arms.
She felt his fingers move to her hips, caressingly, and her hand trembled as it stirred the eggs to keep them from burning.
“Egan, don’t,” she whispered shakily.
His breath was warm and rough in her hair, because the top of her head only came to his chin. The fingers holding her hips contracted, and she felt the tips of them on her flat stomach like a brand.
“Put down that damned spoon and turn around,” he said in a tone she didn’t recognize.
She was shaking like a leaf, and God only knew what would have happened. But noisy footsteps sounded outside the kitchen door, and an equally noisy yawn followed it. Egan let go of her and moved away just as Ada walked in.
“There you are!” she said brightly, watching her best friend stir eggs. “I’m starved!”
“It’ll be on the table in two shakes,” Kati promised, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. Damn Egan!
“I’d better get dressed,” Egan commented, winking at Ada as he went past her. “I think I bother somebody like this.”
Kati made an unforgivable comment under her breath as he left the room.
“At it again, I see,” Ada sighed wearily.
“He started it,” Kati said through her teeth. “I didn’t ask him to walk in here naked.”
“What?” Ada blinked.
Kati looked at her friend with a pained expression. “Oh, God, isn’t he beautiful?” she whispered with genuine feeling.
Ada chuckled gleefully. “Well, I always thought so, even if he is my brother. But isn’t that something of a strange admission for you to make?”
“It slipped out. Just forget it.” She dished up the eggs. “I think I’d better put something on too.”
“Don’t be long,” Ada cautioned. “The eggs will congeal.”
“I’ll hurry.”
She ran for her bedroom and closed the door just as Egan opened his. A minute’s grace! She got into her jeans, blue T-shirt and shoes, and barely stopped to run a brush through her hair. She hoped it would be a short week. She hadn’t expected Egan to have this kind of effect on her. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never even tried to make a pass at her. Now, in less than two days, he’d made more impact on her guarded emotions than any other man had in all her twenty-five years. She was going to have to get a hold on herself. She didn’t know what kind of game Egan had in mind, but she wasn’t playing.
He was wearing a brown velour pullover when she came back, one that emphasized his dark hair and complexion and the hard muscles she’d already seen.
“We left a little for you,” Egan commented as she sat down. He pushed aside his empty plate and poured himself another cup of coffee from the hotplate on the table.
“How kind of you,” she said pleasantly. She held up her cup and Egan filled it, studying her far too closely.
“What does your boyfriend do for a living?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Jack isn’t my boyfriend,” she said. “He’s a man I date. And he’s a political reporter for the New York Times.”
He leaned back in his chair while Ada bit her lower lip and looked apprehensive.
“Is he really?” Egan asked. “He doesn’t look like he gets much exercise. A little overweight, wouldn’t you say?”
She glared at him. “He works very hard.”
He only laughed, and sipped his coffee. “If I took him home with me, I could break him in one day.”
“You could break the devil in one day,” Kati said, exasperated. “What business is it of yours who I date?”
“Now, that’s a good question,” he replied. His eyes narrowed, and there was a smile she didn’t understand on his chiseled lips. “Maybe I feel sorry for the poor man. He does know what you do for a living, doesn’t he? Must be hell on him, having everything he does to you turn up in a book…”
“Egan.” Ada groaned, hiding her face in her hands.
“You overbearing, unspeakable, mean-tempered…” Kati began in a low tone. She threw her napkin down onto the table and stood up.
“You sure got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Egan commented. “Here I am a guest in your apartment—”
“I’d sooner invite a cobra to breakfast!” she burst out.
“You should have,” he murmured, glancing at the plate he’d just emptied. “He might have enjoyed burned eggs and half-raw bacon.”
She tried to speak, couldn’t, and just stormed out of the room.
She left the apartment before Ada could get out of the kitchen, and wandered around the streets shivering in her thin jacket for an hour before she gave up and went back. It was too cold for pride, anyway. All she’d accomplished was to let Egan see how unreasonably she reacted to his prodding. She’d just have to grit her teeth, for Ada’s sake.
Egan was nowhere in sight when she got back, and Ada looked apologetic and worn.
“I don’t understand him, I just don’t,” Ada groaned. “Oh, Kati, I’m sorry. If I’d realized how bad things were between you, I’d never have invited him.”
Kati was generous enough not to remind her friend that she’d tried to warn her. She sat down on the sofa with a hard sigh.
“I’ll manage. Where is he?” she added darkly.
“Gone to spend the day with some girlfriend of his,” Ada said absently. “He said he might not be back until late.”
Why that simple statement should make her feel murderous, Kati didn’t know. But something gnawed inside her at the thought of Egan with another woman.
“I wonder how much he had to bribe her?” she asked nastily.
“Shame on you,” Ada said.
But Kati didn’t apologize. And she didn’t dwell on her confused emotions, either. She wanted no complications in her life, especially with someone like Egan Winthrop.
She and Ada went shopping later in the day and ate out at a little Italian restaurant just down the street from their apartment. They watched television and eventually went to bed. And Egan didn’t come back. Not that night. Not until the next morning.
Kati was sitting on the living room floor with pages littering the area around her. They were galleys of her latest book, which had come that morning by special messenger, and she was going over them. Ada was at auditions for a new play, hoping to be home by lunch if she didn’t get held up at the theater during tryouts. That was a laugh. Most of the time, it took hours. Despite the appointments the hopefuls were given, something always went wrong. Ada had never gotten back when she thought she would, and Kati was dreading Egan’s arrival. She felt wild when she thought of his not coming in at all, and angry because she didn’t understand why. She didn’t even like the man, for God’s sake!
There was a loud knock at the door an hour later, and when she opened it, Egan was standing there looking faintly amused and as immaculate as when he’d left. Still in the same clothes, of course….
She glared at him. “Lose your key?” she asked.
“I thought I’d better not use it, in case you were…entertaining,” he said.
She let him in, slammed the door and went back to her comfortable sprawl on the floor.
“Coffee’s hot if you want some,” she said icily. “I’m busy reading.”
“Don’t let me interrupt you. I thought I’d have a quick shower and change clothes. I’ve got a lunch date.”
Why, oh, why did she feel like smashing plates? She frowned and concentrated on what she was doing. Minutes later, he was back, dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit with a white silk shirt and a blue and burgundy tie. He looked regal. Sexy. Unbelievably handsome for such an ugly man. If he was dressing like that in the middle of the day, he must be on his way to the Waldorf, she thought. And God only knew with whom.
“Ada didn’t worry, did she?” he asked, checking his watch.
“Oh, no. She’s used to people staying out all night,” she lied deliberately, lifting her eyes. It shocked her, the flash of reaction in his face before it was quickly erased.
His eyes ran over her: the gray slacks and burgundy silk blouse she was wearing, her feet hose-clad and without shoes. Her hair was loose, and flowed in waves of reddish gold silk down her shoulders; her face was rosy and full of life.
His scrutiny made her nervous, and she dropped her eyes back to the page she was reading.
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Diana Palmer
Can an isolated rancher fall for the one woman who thaws his heart? Find out in Diana Palmer's beloved HEART OF ICE.The last thing in the world romance novelist Katriane James wanted to do was spend her holiday with her roommate's arrogant, infuriating brother. A rugged man like Egan Winthrop belonged in New York City about as much as she belonged out in the wilderness of his ranch.But Egan's powerful presence soon stripped Katriane of her defenses, and his offer of a visit to his Wyoming home was one she couldn't refuse. Soon Katriane had lost her heart as completely as the heroines in her own stories. But how could she convince Egan that, unlike the women in her books, she had never yet been loved?
Can an isolated rancher fall for the one woman who thaws his heart? Find out in Diana Palmer’s beloved HEART OF ICE.
The last thing in the world romance novelist Katriane James wanted to do was spend her holiday with her roommate’s arrogant, infuriating brother. A rugged man like Egan Winthrop belonged in New York City about as much as she belonged out in the wilderness of his ranch.
But Egan’s powerful presence soon stripped Katriane of her defenses, and his offer of a visit to his Wyoming home was one she couldn’t refuse. Soon Katriane had lost her heart as completely as the heroines in her own stories. But how could she convince Egan that, unlike the women in her books, she had never yet been loved?
Heart of Ice
New York TimesandUSA TODAYBestselling Author
Diana Palmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader (#ulink_edf00603-6ae6-5546-a8aa-7d3385c774b7),
I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.
But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.
I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.
Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.
Diana Palmer
Table of Contents
Cover (#u634002d1-1fc9-5e41-87cc-ea479242f912)
Back Cover Copy (#udd02dd37-8587-5bea-a373-a83cedf92394)
Title Page (#u9e9400c9-434a-5dc6-9638-34dc8f596327)
Author Note (#u3ef96171-55dc-5b15-8f95-a4eb00799630)
Chapter One (#u6cba307a-a502-5e82-bf4a-41ec6e27c411)
Chapter Two (#u75a70967-028a-5a1e-b559-2e7ec7f2fdba)
Chapter Three (#ue771905d-9ddb-5826-987a-01cdfd1d8cbe)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright Page (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_e7758f71-639f-5d28-890b-3d0c6ef91e8f)
“You didn’t!” Katriane wailed at her best friend. “Not at Christmas!”
Ada looked pained and visibly shrank an inch. “Now, Kati…” she began placatingly, using the nickname she’d given the taller girl years ago. “It’s a huge apartment. Absolutely huge. And you and I will be going to parties all over town, and there’s the charity ball at the Thomsons’…It will be all right, you’ll see. You won’t even notice that he’s here.”
“I’ll notice,” Kati said shortly. Her reddish gold hair blazed in the ceiling light, and her brown eyes glared.
“It’s our first Christmas without Mother,” Ada tried again. “He’s got nobody but me.”
“You could go to the ranch for Christmas,” Kati suggested, hating the idea even as she said it.
“And leave you here alone? What kind of friend would I be then?”
“The kind who isn’t sticking me with her horrible brother during my one holiday a year!” came the hot reply. “I worked myself to the bone, researching that last book. I was taking a rest between contractual obligations…just Christmas. How can I rest with Egan here?”
“He’ll be fun to have around,” Ada suggested softly.
“We’ll kill each other!” Kati groaned. “Ada, why do you hate me? You know Egan and I don’t get along. We’ve never gotten along. For heaven’s sake, I can’t live under the same roof with your brother until Christmas! Have you forgotten what happened last time?”
Ada cleared her throat. “Look, you planned to set that next big historical in Wyoming, didn’t you, on a ranch? Who knows more about ranching in Wyoming than Egan? You could look upon it as an educational experience—research.”
Kati just glared.
“Deep down,” Ada observed, “you both probably really like each other. It’s just that you can’t…admit it.”
“Deep down,” her friend replied, “I hate him. Hate. As in to dislike intensely. As in to obsessively dislike.”
“That’s splitting an infinitive,” Ada pointed out.
“You are an actress, not an educator” came the sharp retort.
Ada sighed, looking small and dark and vulnerable. So unlike her elder brother. “I may wind up being an educator, at this rate,” she said. “I am sort of between jobs.”
“You’ll get another one,” Kati said easily. “I’ve never seen anyone with your talent. You got rave reviews in your last play.”
“Well, maybe something will turn up. But, getting back to Egan…”
“Must we?” Kati groaned. She turned, worrying the thick waves of her long hair irritatedly. “Don’t do this to me, Ada. Uninvite him.”
“I can’t. He’s already on the way.”
“Now?” Kati looked hunted. She threw up her hands. “First my royalty check gets lost in the mail when my car payment is due. Now I wind up with a sidewinder to spend Christmas with….”
“He’s my brother,” Ada said in a small voice. “He has no one. Not even a girlfriend.”
“Egan?” Two eyebrows went straight up. “Egan always has a girl friend. He’s never between women.”
“He is right now.”
“Did he go broke?” Kati asked with a sweet smile.
“Now, Kati, he’s not that bad to look at.”
That was true enough. Egan had a body most men would envy. But his face was definitely not handsome. It was craggy and rough and uncompromising. Just like Egan. She could see those glittering silver eyes in her sleep sometimes, haunting her, accusing her—the way they had that last time. She hated Egan because he’d misjudged her so terribly. And because he’d never admitted it. Not then, or since.
She folded her arms over her breasts with a curt sigh. “Well, Mary Savage used to think he was Mr. America,” she conceded.
Ada eyed her closely. “He’s just a poor, lonely old cattleman. He can’t help it if women fall all over him.”
“Egan Winthrop, poor? Lonely?” Kati pursed her lips. “The old part sounds about right, though.”
“He’s thirty-four,” Ada reminded her. “Hardly in his dotage.”
“Sounds ancient to me,” Kati murmured, staring out over the jeweled night skyline of Manhattan.
“We’re both twenty-five.” Ada laughed. “Nine years isn’t so much.”
“Fudge.” She leaned her head against the cold windowpane. “He hates me, Ada,” she said after a minute, and felt the chill all up and down her body. “He’ll start a fight as sure as there’s a sun in the sky. He always starts something.”
“Yes, I know,” Ada confessed. She joined the taller woman at the window. “I don’t understand why you set him off. He’s usually the soul of chivalry with women.”
“I’ve seen him in action,” Kati said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me about that silky charm. But it’s all surface, Ada. Egan lets nobody close enough to wound.”
“For someone who’s been around him only a few times in recent years, and under the greatest pressure from me, you seem to know him awfully well,” Ada mumbled.
“I know his type,” she said shortly. “He’s a taker, not a giver.”
“Neither one of you ever gives an inch,” Ada remarked. She studied her friend closely. “But I had to invite him. He’s the only family I have.”
Kati sighed, feeling oddly guilty. She hugged the shorter girl impulsively. “I’m sorry. I’m being ratty and I don’t mean to. You’re my friend. Of course you can invite your awful brother for Christmas. I’ll grit my teeth and go dancing with Jack and pretend I love having him here. Okay?”
“That I’ll have to see to believe.”
Kati crossed her heart. “Honest.”
“Well, since that’s settled, how about if we go and get a Christmas tree?” Ada suggested brightly.
Kati laughed. “Super,” she said and grabbed up her coat to follow Ada out the door. “And if we get one big enough,” she mumbled under her breath, “maybe we can hang Egan from one of the limbs.”
They trudged through four tree lots before they found just the right tree. It was a six-foot Scotch pine, full and bushy and perfect for their apartment. They stuffed it into the back of Kati’s Thunderbird and carried it home, along with boxes of ornaments and new tinsel to add to their three-year supply in the closet.
Ada went out to get a pizza while Kati tied ribbon through the bright balls and hung them lovingly on the tree. She turned on some Christmas music and tried not to think about Egan. It seemed so long ago that they’d had that horrible blowup….
It had been five years since Kati first set eyes on Egan Winthrop. She and Ada had met at school, where both were majoring in education. Ada had later switched to drama, and Kati had decided to study English while she broke into the fiction market in a small way. Three years ago, after graduation, they’d taken this apartment together.
Egan and Kati had been at odds almost from the first. Kati got her first glimpse of the tall rancher at school, when she and Ada were named to the college honors society in their junior year. Egan and Mrs. Winthrop had both come. Kati had no relatives, and Ada had quickly included her in family plans for an evening out afterward. Egan hadn’t liked that. From the first meeting of eyes, it had been war. He disapproved vehemently of Kati’s chosen profession, although he was careful not to let Ada or his mother see just how much he disliked Kati. They’d hardly spoken two words until that fateful summer when Kati had flown out to the ranch with Ada for the Fourth of July.
It had been the first year she’d roomed with Ada, almost three years ago. Ada’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer, and the family knew that despite the treatments, it would only be a matter of a year or two before she wouldn’t be with them. Everyone had gone to the Wyoming ranch for the July Fourth holidays—including Kati, because Ada refused to leave her alone in New York. Kati’s parents were middle-aged when she was born, and had died only a little apart just before she finished high school. She had cousins and uncles and aunts, but none of them would miss her during the July vacation. So, dreading Egan’s company, she’d put on a happy face and gone.
She couldn’t forget Egan’s face when he’d seen her getting off the plane with his sister. He hadn’t even bothered to disguise his distaste. Egan had a mistaken view of romance writers’ morals and assumed that Kati lived the wild life of her heroines. It wasn’t true, but it seemed to suit him to believe that it was. He gave her a chilly reception, his silvery eyes telling her that he wished she’d stayed in New York.
But his cousin Richard’s enthusiastic greeting more than made up for Egan’s rudeness. She was hugged and hugged and enthused over, and she ate it up. Richard was just her age, a dark-haired, dark-eyed architect with a bright future and a way with women. If he hadn’t been such a delightful flirt, the whole incident might have been avoided. But he had been, and it wasn’t.
Richard had taken Kati to the Grand Teton National Park for the day, while Mrs. Winthrop soaked up the attention she was getting from her son and daughter. She was a lot like Ada, a happy, well-adjusted person with a loving disposition. And none of Egan’s cynicism. Kati had liked her very much. But she and Richard had felt that Mrs. Winthrop needed some time alone with her children. So they’d driven to the park and hiked and enjoyed the beauty of the mountains rising starkly from the valley, and afterward they’d stopped in Jackson for steaks and a salad.
On the way home, Richard’s car had had a flat tire. Richard, being the lovable feather-brain he was, had no spare. In that part of the country on a holiday night, there wasn’t a lot of traffic. So they walked back to the ranch—which took until four in the morning.
Egan had been waiting up. He said nothing to Richard, who was so tired that he was hardly able to stand. Richard went inside, leaving all the explanations to Kati.
“You live down to your reputation, don’t you?” he asked with a smile that chilled even in memory. “My God, you might have had a little consideration for my mother. She worried.”
Kati remembered trying to speak, but he cut her off with a rough curse.
“Don’t make it worse by lying,” he growled. “We both know what you are…you with your loose morals and your disgusting books. What you do with my cousin is your business, but I don’t want my holidays ruined by someone like you. You’re not welcome here any longer. Make some excuse to leave tomorrow.”
And he walked away, leaving Kati sick and near tears. She hadn’t let them show, she was too proud. And she’d managed to get to bed without waking Ada, who shared a room with her. But the next morning, cold-eyed and hating Egan more than ever, she packed her suitcase, gave some excuse about an unexpected deadline and asked Richard to take her to the airport.
They were on the porch when Egan came out the front door, looking irritated and angry and strangely haggard.
“I’d like to speak to you,” he told Kati.
She remembered looking at him as if he were some form of bacteria, her back stiff, her eyes full of hatred.
“Go ahead,” she told him.
He glared at Richard, who cleared his throat and mumbled something about getting the car.
“Why didn’t you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“Why bother, when you already knew?” she asked in glacial tones.
“I didn’t know,” he ground out.
“How amazing,” she replied calmly. “I thought you knew everything. You seem to have made a hobby out of my life—the fictionalized version, of course.”
He looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t apologize. “Richard had been drinking. It was four in the morning—”
“We had a very long walk,” she told him curtly. “About fifteen or twenty miles. Richard wasn’t drunk. He was tired.” Her dark eyes glittered up at him. “I didn’t like you much before, Mr. Winthrop, but I like you even less now. I’ll make a point of keeping out of your vicinity. I wouldn’t want to contaminate you.”
“Miss James…” he began quietly.
“Good-bye.” She brushed past him, suitcase in hand, and got into Richard’s car. Ada and Mrs. Winthrop had tried to talk her into staying, but she was adamant about having an unexpected deadline and work pressure. And to this day, only she and that animal in Wyoming really knew why she’d left. Even Richard hadn’t been privy to the truth.
That episode had brought the antagonism between Egan and Kati out into the open, and their relationship seemed to go from bad to worse. It was impossible for Kati to stay in the same room with Egan these days. He’d find an excuse, any excuse, to nick her temper. And she’d always retaliate. Like last year…
Egan had been in town for some kind of conference and had stopped by the apartment to see Ada. Kati had been on her way to a department store in downtown Manhattan to autograph copies of her latest book, Renegade Lover, a historical set in eighteenth-century South Carolina. Egan had walked in to find her in her autographing clothes—a burgundy velvet dress cut low in front, and a matching burgundy hat crowned by white feathers. She’d looked like the heroine on the front of her book, and he immediately pounced.
“My God, Madame Pompadour,” he observed, studying her from his superior height.
She bristled, glaring up at him. “Wrong country,” she replied. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know that.”
His eyebrow jerked. “Why not? Just because I’m in oil and cattle doesn’t make me an ignoramus.”
“I never said a word, Mr. Winthrop, honey,” she replied, batting her long eyelashes at him.
The term of endearment, on reflection, must have been what set him off. His lips curled in an unpleasant smile. “You do look the part, all right,” he replied. “You could stand on the street corner and make a nice little nest egg…”
She actually slapped him—and didn’t even realize she had until she felt her fingers stinging and saw the red mark along his cheek.
“Damn you!” she breathed, shaking with fury.
His nostrils flared; his eyes narrowed and became frankly dangerous. “Lift your hand to me again, ever,” he said in that low, cold tone, “and you’ll wish you’d never set eyes on me.”
“I already do, Egan Almighty Winthrop! I already do.”
“Dress like a tramp and people are going to label you one,” he rejoined. His eyes cut away from her with distaste. “I wouldn’t be seen in public with you.”
“Thank God!” she threw after him, almost jumping up and down with indignation. “I wouldn’t want people to think I cared so little about who I was seen with!”
At that moment, luckily, Ada had rushed in from her bedroom to play peacemaker. Without another word, Kati had grabbed up her coat and purse and had run from the apartment, tears rolling down her cheeks. It was a miracle that she managed to get herself back together by the time she reached the department store.
That was the last time she’d seen Egan Winthrop. And she never wanted to see him again. Oh, why had Ada agreed to let him come, knowing the state of hostility that existed between Egan and her? Why!
She put the last ball on the tree, and was reaching for the little golden angel that would sit atop it when she heard the door open.
It must be Ada with the pizza, of course, and she was starved. She reached up, slender in jeans and a pullover yellow velour sweater, laughing as she put the angel in place. As she moved, she knocked into one of the balls, but caught it just in time to keep it from dropping to the carpet.
“Back already?” she called. “I’m starved to death! Do you want to have it in here by the tree?”
There was a pregnant pause, and she felt eyes watching her. Nervous, she turned—to find herself staring at Egan Winthrop. Her hand clenched at the sight of him—so powerful and dark in his gray vested suit—and the fragile ball shattered under the pressure.
“You little idiot,” he muttered, moving forward to force open her hand.
She let him, numb, her eyes falling to the sight of his dark hands under her pale one where blood beaded from a small cut.
“I…wasn’t expecting…you,” she said nervously.
“Obviously. Do you have some antiseptic?”
“In the bathroom.”
He marched her into it and fumbled in the medicine cabinet for antiseptic and a bandage.
“Where’s Ada?” he asked as he cleaned the small cut, examined it for shards, and applied the stinging antiseptic.
“Out getting pizza,” she muttered.
He glanced up. He’d never been so close to her, and those silver eyes at point-blank range were frightening. So was the warmth of his lean, powerful body and the smell of his musky cologne.
His eyes searched hers quietly, and he didn’t smile. That wasn’t unusual. She’d only seen him smile at Ada or his mother. He was reserved to the point of inhibition most of the time. A hard man. Cold…
Something wild and frightening dilated her eyes as she met that long, lingering look, and her heart jumped. Her lips parted as she tore her gaze down to the small hand that was visibly trembling in his big ones.
“Nervous, Katriane?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m nervous,” she bit off, deciding that a lie would only amuse him. If granite could be amused.
“How long did it take Ada to talk you into this visit?” he asked.
She drew in a heavy breath. “All of a half hour,” she said gruffly. “And I still think it’s a horrible mistake.” She looked up at him defiantly. “I don’t want to spoil Christmas for her by fighting with you.”
His chin lifted as he studied her. “Then you’ll just have to be nice to me, won’t you?” he baited. “No snide remarks, no deliberate taunts…”
“Look who’s talking about snide remarks!” she returned. “You’re the one who does all the attacking!”
“You give as good as you get, don’t you?” he asked.
Her lower lip jutted. “It’s Christmas.”
“Yes, I know.” He studied her. “I like presents.”
“Is anyone going to give you one?” she asked incredulously.
“Ada,” he reminded her.
“Poor demented soul, she loves you,” she said, eyeing him.
“Women do, from time to time,” he returned.
“Ah, the advantages of wealth,” she muttered.
“Do you think I have to pay for it?” he asked with a cold smile. “I suppose a woman who sells it expects everyone to…”
Her hand lifted again, but he caught it this time, holding it so that she had to either stand on her tiptoes or have her shoulder dislocated.
“Let go!” she panted. “You’re hurting!”
“Then stop trying to hit me. Peace on earth, remember?” he reminded her, oddly calm.
“I’d like to leave you in pieces,” she mumbled, glaring up at him.
His eyes wandered from her wild, waving red-gold hair down past her full breasts to her small waist, flaring hips and long legs. “You’ve gained a little weight, haven’t you?” he asked. “As voluptuous as ever. I suppose that appeals to some men.”
“Ooooh!” she burst out, infuriated, struggling.
He let her go all at once and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, watching her with amusement as he lit it. “What’s the matter? Disappointed because you don’t appeal to me?”
“God forbid!”
He shook his head. “You’ll have to do better than this if you want to keep a truce with me for the next few days. I can’t tolerate hysterical women.”
She closed her eyes, willing him to disappear. It didn’t work. When she opened them, he was still there. She put away the antiseptic and bandages and went back into the living room, walking stiffly, to clean the debris of the shattered ball from the beige carpet.
“Don’t cut yourself,” he cautioned, dropping lazily into an armchair with the ashtray he’d found.
“On what, the ball or you?” she asked coldly.
He only laughed, softly, menacingly; and she fumbled with pieces of the ball while he watched her in that catlike, unblinking way of his.
“I thought Ada told me you’d stopped smoking,” she remarked when she was finished.
“I did. I only do it now when I’m nervous.” He took another long draw, his eyes mocking. “You give me the jitters, honey, didn’t you know?”
“Me and the cobalt bomb, maybe,” she scoffed. She threw away the debris and ran an irritated hand through her hair. “Do you want me to show you to your room, like a good hostess?” she asked.
“You’d show me to the elevator and press the Down button,” he said. “I’ll wait for my sister and a warmer welcome.”
It was Christmas, and he’d lost his mother, and she hated the surge of sympathy she felt. But knowing he’d toss it right back in her face kept her quiet. She went to the window and stared down at the busy street. “Ada, hurry,” she wanted to scream.
“I saw your book advertised on television the other day,” he remarked.
She turned around, arms folded defensively over her breasts. “Did you? Imagine, you watching television.”
He didn’t take her up on that. He crushed out his half-finished cigarette. “It sold out at the local bookstore.”
“I’m sure you bought all the copies—to keep your good neighbors from being exposed to it,” she chided.
His eyebrows arched. “In fact, I did buy one copy. To read.”
She went red from head to toe. The thought of Egan Winthrop reading Harvest of Passion made her want to pull a blanket over her head. It was a spicy book with sensuous love scenes, and the way he was looking her over made it obvious what he thought of the book and its author.
“I like historical fiction,” he remarked. “Despite having to wade through the obligatory sex to get to it.”
She flushed even more and turned away, too tongue-tied to answer him.
“How do you manage to stay on your feet with all that exhaustive research you obviously do?”
She whirled, her eyes blazing. “What do you mean by that?” she burst out.
He laughed softly, predatorily. “You know damned good and well what I mean. How many men does it take?”
The door opened just in time to spare his ears. Ada walked in and her face glowed with joy as she saw her brother. She tossed the pizza onto a chair and ran to him, to be swung up in his powerful arms and warmly kissed.
“You get prettier all the time,” he said, laughing, and the radiance in his face made Kati feel like mourning. She’d never bring that look to Egan’s face.
“And you get handsomer. I’m so glad you could come,” Ada said genuinely.
“I’m glad someone is,” he murmured, glancing at Kati’s flushed, furious face.
Ada looked past him, and her own expression sobered. “Ooops,” she murmured.
Kati swallowed her hostility. She wouldn’t ruin Christmas for Ada—she wouldn’t. She pinned a smile to her lips. “It’s all right. He patched me up when I cut my hand. We’re friends now. Aren’t we?” she asked, grinding her teeth together as she looked at Egan.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Bosom pals.” He stared at her breasts.
Ada grabbed him by the hand and half dragged him from the room. “Let me show you where to put your suitcase, Egan!” she said hastily.
Kati went to take the pizza into the kitchen and make coffee. And counted to ten, five times.
Chapter Two (#ulink_cf5d6778-ac4f-53c8-bf3b-8b5bed1b7faf)
“How have you been?” Ada asked her brother as the three of them sat around the dining room table munching pizza and drinking coffee.
“All right,” he said, staring at the thick brown mug that held his coffee. “You?”
Ada smiled. “Busy. It’s helped me not to dwell on Mama.”
“She’s better off,” Egan reminded her quietly.
“I know,” Ada said, her eyes misting. She shook her head and grabbed another slice of pizza. “Anybody else for seconds? There are three slices left.”
“No more for me,” Kati said with a speaking glance at Egan. “I wouldn’t want to get more voluptuous than I already am.”
“Nonsense,” blissfully ignorant Ada said. “You’re just right. Come on, have another slice.”
“Go ahead,” Egan taunted.
“Why don’t you?” she dared him.
“And be accused of making a pig of myself?” he asked innocently.
“Who would be so unkind as to call you a pig?” Kati asked sweetly.
“Excuse me,” Ada interrupted, “but it’s Christmas. Remember? Holly and mistletoe…?”
“Mistletoe?” Egan glanced at Kati. “I’d rather drink poison.”
Kati glared back. “Ditto!”
“Let’s watch television!” Ada suggested frantically. She dragged Kati into the living room and quickly turned on the set. “I’ll clear the table, you keep Egan company.”
“You’re just afraid of getting caught in the line of fire,” Egan accused as his sister rushed out of the room.
But Ada only grinned.
Egan eased down into the armchair he’d vacated earlier and stared at Kati. He’d taken off his coat and vest. Both sleeves of his white silk shirt were rolled up and the neck was opened. He didn’t wear an undershirt, and through the thin fabric, bronzed muscles and a thick pelt of hair were visible. That bothered Kati, so she carefully avoided looking at him while the evening news blared into the room.
“How’s the writing going?” Egan asked conversationally.
“Just fine, thanks,” she replied tersely.
“What are you working on now?”
She swallowed. Ada had finked on her, she just knew it. “Actually, I’m doing another historical.”
“On…?”
She cleared her throat. “Wyoming,” she mumbled.
“Pardon?” he said.
Her lips made a thin line. “Wyoming,” she said louder.
“A historical novel about Wyoming. Well, well. Have you done a lot of research?”
She glanced at him warily. “What do you mean?”
“Historical research,” he clarified, watching her. “You’ll have to mention cattle-ranching, I imagine?”
“Yes,” she said grudgingly.
“Know a lot about it, city lady?” he mocked.
She glared at him. “I have been on a ranch before.”
“Sure. Mine.” He stared down his nose at her. “I don’t imagine they have many big cattle ranches in Charleston?”
“We have good people,” she returned. “With excellent breeding.”
His eyebrows arched. “Yes, I know. My grandmother came from Charleston.”
She glared at him. “Did she, really?” she asked coldly.
He smiled softly. “She used to say it was where the Cooper and Ashley Rivers meet to form the Atlantic Ocean.”
She’d heard that, too, in her childhood in the South Carolina coastal city, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling with him.
“She was a redhead too,” he continued, waiting for a reaction.
“My hair isn’t red,” she said, predictably.
“Honey and fox fur,” he argued, studying it.
She flushed. That sounded oddly poetic, and she didn’t like the tingle that ran through her.
She glanced at her watch. “Excuse me. I’d better put on a dress.”
Egan glared. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes.” She left him sitting there and went to find Ada. “Jack’s coming for me at seven,” she reminded her friend. “I’ve got to get dressed.”
“I’ll go keep Egan company. Lucky you, to have a boyfriend in town.” She sighed. “Mine’s out at sea again.”
“Marshal will be back before you know it,” she murmured. “Sorry to run out on you.”
“You’ll have fun.” Ada grinned. “And so will I. I like Egan. He’s great company, even if he is my brother.”
Well, there was no accounting for taste. She couldn’t imagine Egan being great company; but then, she wasn’t related to him.
She put on a black cocktail dress and wore red accessories with it. Her eyes gave her a critical appraisal. She’d twirled her hair into a French twist and added a rhinestone clip to it, and she liked that elegant touch. She grinned. Jack would love it.
Jack Asher was a reporter for the New York Times, a political specialist who was intelligent and fun to be with. She’d known him for several months and enjoyed the occasional date. But things were still platonic between them because she didn’t want any serious involvement. She was too independent.
The doorbell rang while she was putting a gloss of lipstick on her mouth, and she knew Ada would get it. Then she remembered that Egan was here, and rushed to finish her makeup and get back into the living room.
Jack was standing in the hall, talking to Ada while Egan glared at him.
He cleared his throat when Kati joined him, looking painfully relieved to see her.
“Hi, lady,” he said with a forced smile. He was blond and blue-eyed and not nearly as tall or muscular as Egan. Sadly enough, in comparison he looked rather pale and dull.
But Kati grinned at him and Ada as if nothing were wrong. “Had to find my purse, but I’m ready when you are. Night, Ada. Egan,” she added, glancing his way.
Egan didn’t answer her. He was still glaring at Jack with those dangerous narrowed eyes glittering like new silver while he smoked a cigarette. Ada made a frantic gesture, but he ignored her too.
“Night, Ada,” Jack said uncomfortably and led Kati out the door.
“Whew!” Jack exclaimed when they reached the elevator. “I felt like an insect on a mounting board for a second there! Is he always like that? So…uncommunicative?”
“Egan?” Kati’s eyes flared up. “He’s usually much too communicative, if you want to know. We’re stuck with him for Christmas. Ada invited him because their mother died earlier this year. She felt sorry for him, being all alone.”
“I should think so,” Jack said gently. “Well, maybe he talks to her.” He frowned. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“Not one bit. Not one ounce. Not a fraction.” She glared at the elevator.
Jack laughed. “Poor guy!”
“Not Egan. Feel sorry for me. I’m stuck in the same apartment with him for the next week,” she moaned.
“You could always move in with me,” he offered.
She laughed, knowing the offer was a joke, just as it always had been. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. “Sure I could. I can just see your mother’s face.”
“Mother likes you.” He chuckled. “She’d probably be thrilled.”
“Only because she could pump me for my latest plots.” She grinned. “You know she’s one of my biggest fans. Sweet lady.”
“She’s sweet, all right. Well, where do you want to go? The Rainbow Grill?”
“Let’s save it for a special time. How about the Crawdaddy Room at the Roosevelt?”
He chuckled. “You just like to go there because of their pudding,” he accused.
“Well, it is terribly good,” she reminded him.
“I know, I know. Actually, I like it myself.”
She followed him into the elevator and put the confrontation with Egan right out of her mind.
A prime rib, a salad, several hard rolls and a dish of delicious whiskey pudding later, Kati sat drinking her coffee and looking around at the elegant surroundings. She saw a nice little old German waiter she knew from other visits there and smiled at him.
“Friend of yours?” Jack asked her.
“Everybody’s my friend.” She laughed. “I used to think New York was a cold place until I moved here. New Yorkers just take a little getting to know. And then they’re family. I love New York,” she sang softly, and laughed again.
“So do I. Of course, I was born here,” he added. He looked out the window at the traffic. “I’ve got tickets for a modern ballet, if you’d like to use them.”
“Could we?”
“Sure. Come on.”
He led her down a side street where a group of people were just entering what looked like an old warehouse. But inside, it was a theater, complete with live orchestra and lighted stage and some of the most beautiful modern ballet she’d ever watched. The people onstage looked like living art: the women delicate and pink in their tulle and satin, the men vigorous and athletic and vibrant. Kati had been going to the ballet for years, but this was something special.
Afterward, they went to a lounge and drank piña coladas and danced to the hazy music of a combo until the wee hours.
“That was fun,” she told Jack when he brought her home. “We’ll have to do it again.”
“Indeed we will. I’m sorry I didn’t think of the ballet weeks ago. I get free tickets.”
“Let’s do it again even if we have to pay for them,” she said, laughing.
“Suits me. I’ll call you in a few days. Looks like I may have to fly down to Washington on that latest scandal.”
“Call me when you get back, okay?”
“Okay. Night, doll.” He winked and was gone. He never tried to kiss her or make advances. With them, it was friendship instead of involvement, and she enjoyed his company very much. Jack had been married and his wife had died. He wanted involvement even less than she did and was glad to be going out with someone who wouldn’t try to tie him up in wedding paper.
Dreamily, she unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside. She closed the door and leaned back against it, humming a few bars of the classical piece that had accompanied one of the pieces at the ballet.
“Do you usually stay out this late?” Egan asked from the living room. He was standing by the window with a glass of amber liquid that looked like whiskey in his hand.
She stared at him. “I’m twenty-five,” she reminded him. “I stay out as late as I like.”
He moved toward her slowly, gracefully, his eyes holding hers. “Do you sleep with him?” he asked.
She caught her breath. “Egan, what I do with anyone is my business.”
He threw back the rest of his drink and set the glass on a small table in the hall, moving toward her until she felt like backing away.
“How is he?” he asked lazily. Then he caught her by the shoulders and held her in front of him, looking down quietly, holding her eyes.
Her lips parted as she met that intimidating stare. “Egan…”
His nostrils flared. The lean fingers that were holding her tightened. “Is he white all over?” he continued in a faintly mocking tone. “City boy.”
“Well, there aren’t many cattle to herd up here,” she said tautly.
“No, but there are too damn many people. You can’t walk two steps without running into someone,” he complained. “I couldn’t survive here. Answer me. Do you sleep with him?”
“That’s non—” she began.
“Tell me anyway. Does he do all those things to you that you write about in your books?” he asked, studying her. “Does he ‘strip you slowly,’ so that you can ‘feel every brush of his fingers…’”
“Egan!” She reached up to press her fingers against his lips, stopping the words as she flushed deeply.
He hadn’t expected the touch of her fingers. He caught them and held them as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. His eyes held hers.
“Is that the kind of man you like, Katriane Desiree?” he asked, using the full name that she didn’t know he’d ever heard.
She watched him helplessly. “I like…writers,” she managed.
“Do you?” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed its warm palm softly, slowly. His teeth nipped at her slender forefinger.
“Egan,” she breathed nervously.
He took the tip of her finger into his mouth and she felt his tongue touching it. “Afraid?” he murmured. “Don’t they say that a woman is instinctively afraid of a man she thinks can conquer her?”
She wrenched away from him like an animal at bay. “You’d be lucky!” she whispered. Was that her voice, shaking like that?
He stared at her, sliding his hands into his pockets, and the action stretched the fabric of his trousers tight over the powerful muscles of his legs. “So would you,” he returned. “But one of these days I might give you a thrill, honey. God knows, my taste never ran to virgins. And an experienced woman is…exciting.”
She felt the blood rush into her face, and she whirled on her heel. If she stayed there one second longer, she’d hit him! Boy, wouldn’t the joke be on him if he ever tried to take her to bed! Egan, in bed…
She went straight into the bathroom, oblivious that she might wake Ada, and ran herself a calming cool shower.
Chapter Three (#ulink_ec9bde75-f2e4-520a-82a3-c6db96b31d04)
Kati didn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the hard grip of Egan’s fingers on her shoulders, the touch of his mouth against her hand. She hated him, she thought miserably; that was why she couldn’t sleep.
She dragged into the kitchen just after daylight, with her long gold and beige striped caftan flowing lovingly over the soft curves of her body. Her tousled hair fell in glorious disarray around her shoulders, and her dark eyes were even darker with drowsiness.
With a long yawn, she filled the coffee pot and started it, then she reached for the skillet and bacon and turned on the stove. She was leaning back against the refrigerator with a carton of eggs in one hand and butter in the other when the kitchen door opened and Egan came in, dressed in nothing but a pair of tan slacks.
He stopped at the sight of her and stared. She did some staring of her own. He was just as she’d imagined him without that shirt—sexy as all get-out. Bronzed muscles rippled as he closed the kitchen door; a mat of hair on his chest curled down obviously below his belt buckle. His arms looked much more powerful without a concealing shirt, as did his shoulders. She could hardly drag her eyes away.
“I thought I’d fix myself a cup of coffee,” he said quietly.
“I just put some on,” she said.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean I have to wait until you drink your potful before I can make mine?” he asked.
She glared at him. So much for truces. “There’s a nice little coffee shop down on the corner,” she suggested with a venomous smile.
“I’ll tell Ada you’re being unkind to me,” he threatened. “Remember Ada? My sister? The one whose Christmas you said you didn’t want to spoil?”
She drew in a calming breath. “Do excuse me, Mr. Winthrop,” she said formally. “Wouldn’t you like to sit down? I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”
“Not until you tell me where you plan to pour it,” he returned.
“Don’t tempt me.” She reached up into the cabinet for a second cup and saucer while he pulled out a chair and straddled it.
When she turned back with the filled cups, she found him watching her. It unnerved her when he did that, and she spilled coffee into one of the saucers before she could set them on the table.
“Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked pleasantly.
“No,” she said. “I’m not used to sleeping late. I’m at my best early in the morning.”
A slow, wicked smile touched his hard mouth. “Most of us are,” he commented.
It didn’t necessarily mean what she thought it did, but she couldn’t help the blush. And that increased her embarrassment, because he laughed.
“Will you stop!” she burst out, glaring at him. “Oh, why don’t you take your coffee and go back to bed?”
“I’m hungry. Don’t I smell bacon?”
“Bacon!” She jumped up and turned it just in time. It was a nice golden brown.
“Going to scramble some eggs, too?” he asked.
“No, I thought I’d let you drink yours raw,” she said.
He only laughed, sipping his coffee. “I like raw oysters, but I draw the line at raw eggs. Want me to make the toast?”
“You can cook?”
“Don’t get insulting.” He stood up and found the bread and butter. “Get me a pan and some cinnamon and sugar.”
She stared at him.
“Cinnamon,” he said patiently. “It’s a spice—”
“I know what it is,” she grumbled, finding it. “Here. And I’ve lined the pan with aluminum foil. It’s all yours.”
“Ungrateful woman,” he muttered as he mixed the cinnamon and sugar in the shaker she’d handed him. He buttered the bread and spread the mixture on top.
“Don’t get conceited just because you can make cinnamon toast,” she mumbled. “After all, it isn’t exactly duckling a l’orange.”
“I’d like to see you cook that,” he remarked.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I could if I had a recipe.”
“So could I.” He turned on the oven and slid the toast in under the broiler. “Get me a pot holder.”
“Who was your personal slave yesterday?” she asked, tossing him a quilted pot holder.
“I liked the old days,” he murmured, glancing at her. “When men hunted and women cooked and had kids.”
“Drudgery,” she scoffed. “Women were little more than free labor….”
“Cosseted and protected and worried over and loved to death,” he continued, staring down at her. “Now they’re overbearing, pushy, impossible to get along with and wilder than bucks.”
“Look who’s talking about being wild!” she burst out.
He stared down his nose at her. “I’m a man.”
She drew in a breath and let it out, and her eyes involuntarily ran over him.
“No argument?” he asked.
She turned away. “Your toast’s burning.”
He took it out—nicely browned and smelling sweet and delicate—and put it on a plate while she scrambled eggs.
“I like mine fried, honey,” he commented.
“Okay. There’s a frying pan, grease is in the cabinet. If you’re too good to eat my scrambled eggs, you can mutilate your own any way you like.”
He chuckled softly, an odd sound that she’d never heard, and she turned to look up at him.
“Firecracker,” he murmured, his eyes narrow and searching. “Are you like that in bed?”
She jerked her eyes away and concentrated on the eggs. “Wouldn’t you like to get dressed before we eat?”
It was a mistake. A horrible mistake. Because then he knew what she hadn’t admitted since he walked into the room. That, stripped to the waist, he bothered her.
The arrogant beast knew it, all right. He moved lazily until he was standing just behind her…so close that she felt him and smelled him and wanted nothing more out of life than to turn around and slide her hands all over that broad chest.
His hands caught her waist, making her jump, and eased her back against him so that she could feel the warm, hard muscles of his chest and stomach against her back. The caftan was paper-thin, and it was like standing naked in his arms.
She felt his fingers move to her hips, caressingly, and her hand trembled as it stirred the eggs to keep them from burning.
“Egan, don’t,” she whispered shakily.
His breath was warm and rough in her hair, because the top of her head only came to his chin. The fingers holding her hips contracted, and she felt the tips of them on her flat stomach like a brand.
“Put down that damned spoon and turn around,” he said in a tone she didn’t recognize.
She was shaking like a leaf, and God only knew what would have happened. But noisy footsteps sounded outside the kitchen door, and an equally noisy yawn followed it. Egan let go of her and moved away just as Ada walked in.
“There you are!” she said brightly, watching her best friend stir eggs. “I’m starved!”
“It’ll be on the table in two shakes,” Kati promised, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. Damn Egan!
“I’d better get dressed,” Egan commented, winking at Ada as he went past her. “I think I bother somebody like this.”
Kati made an unforgivable comment under her breath as he left the room.
“At it again, I see,” Ada sighed wearily.
“He started it,” Kati said through her teeth. “I didn’t ask him to walk in here naked.”
“What?” Ada blinked.
Kati looked at her friend with a pained expression. “Oh, God, isn’t he beautiful?” she whispered with genuine feeling.
Ada chuckled gleefully. “Well, I always thought so, even if he is my brother. But isn’t that something of a strange admission for you to make?”
“It slipped out. Just forget it.” She dished up the eggs. “I think I’d better put something on too.”
“Don’t be long,” Ada cautioned. “The eggs will congeal.”
“I’ll hurry.”
She ran for her bedroom and closed the door just as Egan opened his. A minute’s grace! She got into her jeans, blue T-shirt and shoes, and barely stopped to run a brush through her hair. She hoped it would be a short week. She hadn’t expected Egan to have this kind of effect on her. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never even tried to make a pass at her. Now, in less than two days, he’d made more impact on her guarded emotions than any other man had in all her twenty-five years. She was going to have to get a hold on herself. She didn’t know what kind of game Egan had in mind, but she wasn’t playing.
He was wearing a brown velour pullover when she came back, one that emphasized his dark hair and complexion and the hard muscles she’d already seen.
“We left a little for you,” Egan commented as she sat down. He pushed aside his empty plate and poured himself another cup of coffee from the hotplate on the table.
“How kind of you,” she said pleasantly. She held up her cup and Egan filled it, studying her far too closely.
“What does your boyfriend do for a living?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Jack isn’t my boyfriend,” she said. “He’s a man I date. And he’s a political reporter for the New York Times.”
He leaned back in his chair while Ada bit her lower lip and looked apprehensive.
“Is he really?” Egan asked. “He doesn’t look like he gets much exercise. A little overweight, wouldn’t you say?”
She glared at him. “He works very hard.”
He only laughed, and sipped his coffee. “If I took him home with me, I could break him in one day.”
“You could break the devil in one day,” Kati said, exasperated. “What business is it of yours who I date?”
“Now, that’s a good question,” he replied. His eyes narrowed, and there was a smile she didn’t understand on his chiseled lips. “Maybe I feel sorry for the poor man. He does know what you do for a living, doesn’t he? Must be hell on him, having everything he does to you turn up in a book…”
“Egan.” Ada groaned, hiding her face in her hands.
“You overbearing, unspeakable, mean-tempered…” Kati began in a low tone. She threw her napkin down onto the table and stood up.
“You sure got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Egan commented. “Here I am a guest in your apartment—”
“I’d sooner invite a cobra to breakfast!” she burst out.
“You should have,” he murmured, glancing at the plate he’d just emptied. “He might have enjoyed burned eggs and half-raw bacon.”
She tried to speak, couldn’t, and just stormed out of the room.
She left the apartment before Ada could get out of the kitchen, and wandered around the streets shivering in her thin jacket for an hour before she gave up and went back. It was too cold for pride, anyway. All she’d accomplished was to let Egan see how unreasonably she reacted to his prodding. She’d just have to grit her teeth, for Ada’s sake.
Egan was nowhere in sight when she got back, and Ada looked apologetic and worn.
“I don’t understand him, I just don’t,” Ada groaned. “Oh, Kati, I’m sorry. If I’d realized how bad things were between you, I’d never have invited him.”
Kati was generous enough not to remind her friend that she’d tried to warn her. She sat down on the sofa with a hard sigh.
“I’ll manage. Where is he?” she added darkly.
“Gone to spend the day with some girlfriend of his,” Ada said absently. “He said he might not be back until late.”
Why that simple statement should make her feel murderous, Kati didn’t know. But something gnawed inside her at the thought of Egan with another woman.
“I wonder how much he had to bribe her?” she asked nastily.
“Shame on you,” Ada said.
But Kati didn’t apologize. And she didn’t dwell on her confused emotions, either. She wanted no complications in her life, especially with someone like Egan Winthrop.
She and Ada went shopping later in the day and ate out at a little Italian restaurant just down the street from their apartment. They watched television and eventually went to bed. And Egan didn’t come back. Not that night. Not until the next morning.
Kati was sitting on the living room floor with pages littering the area around her. They were galleys of her latest book, which had come that morning by special messenger, and she was going over them. Ada was at auditions for a new play, hoping to be home by lunch if she didn’t get held up at the theater during tryouts. That was a laugh. Most of the time, it took hours. Despite the appointments the hopefuls were given, something always went wrong. Ada had never gotten back when she thought she would, and Kati was dreading Egan’s arrival. She felt wild when she thought of his not coming in at all, and angry because she didn’t understand why. She didn’t even like the man, for God’s sake!
There was a loud knock at the door an hour later, and when she opened it, Egan was standing there looking faintly amused and as immaculate as when he’d left. Still in the same clothes, of course….
She glared at him. “Lose your key?” she asked.
“I thought I’d better not use it, in case you were…entertaining,” he said.
She let him in, slammed the door and went back to her comfortable sprawl on the floor.
“Coffee’s hot if you want some,” she said icily. “I’m busy reading.”
“Don’t let me interrupt you. I thought I’d have a quick shower and change clothes. I’ve got a lunch date.”
Why, oh, why did she feel like smashing plates? She frowned and concentrated on what she was doing. Minutes later, he was back, dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit with a white silk shirt and a blue and burgundy tie. He looked regal. Sexy. Unbelievably handsome for such an ugly man. If he was dressing like that in the middle of the day, he must be on his way to the Waldorf, she thought. And God only knew with whom.
“Ada didn’t worry, did she?” he asked, checking his watch.
“Oh, no. She’s used to people staying out all night,” she lied deliberately, lifting her eyes. It shocked her, the flash of reaction in his face before it was quickly erased.
His eyes ran over her: the gray slacks and burgundy silk blouse she was wearing, her feet hose-clad and without shoes. Her hair was loose, and flowed in waves of reddish gold silk down her shoulders; her face was rosy and full of life.
His scrutiny made her nervous, and she dropped her eyes back to the page she was reading.
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Diana Palmer
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Can an isolated rancher fall for the one woman who thaws his heart? Find out in Diana Palmer′s beloved HEART OF ICE.The last thing in the world romance novelist Katriane James wanted to do was spend her holiday with her roommate′s arrogant, infuriating brother. A rugged man like Egan Winthrop belonged in New York City about as much as she belonged out in the wilderness of his ranch.But Egan′s powerful presence soon stripped Katriane of her defenses, and his offer of a visit to his Wyoming home was one she couldn′t refuse. Soon Katriane had lost her heart as completely as the heroines in her own stories. But how could she convince Egan that, unlike the women in her books, she had never yet been loved?