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
