said with an indifference that grated on Luke’s nerves, “San Francisco’s a big city. You don’t have to see her…I can’t imagine she’ll stay long.”
“I like my life the way it is!” Luke said violently.
“Then you are a fortunate man,” Ramon said with a faint smile. “Eat your oysters before they get cold.”
Paying very little attention to an excellent lunch, Luke cleared his plate, talking nonstop about the Democratic convention, the latest African coup and the price of gold. But as he and Ramon parted company on the boardwalk, Ramon said calmly, “Rosita would kill me for interfering—but Katrin’s an exceptional woman, Luke. She could be the making of you. If you let her.” He grinned. “See you at the courts next Tuesday. Try and have your mind on the game, sí?”
He walked away before Luke could reply, a big man easy in his own skin. Luke watched him go.
Katrin would be here in San Francisco. Soon. He’d have to phone her this evening.
He had to. He had no choice.
Luke phoned Katrin at ten-thirty her time. The phone rang six times; he was about to disconnect when she picked up the receiver. “Hello?” she said warily.
“Katrin, it’s Luke.” Now what was he supposed to say? How are you? “I hear you’ll be coming to San Francisco.”
“How did you know that?” she demanded.
“The police chief who’s in command of the case is a good friend of mine. Ramon Torres.”
“Just my luck that he’d be your friend.”
“Ramon’s a good man!”
“I couldn’t agree more—even though he’s a policeman, he was the one bright spot in the whole investigation,” she said without a trace of emotion in her voice.
Silence hummed along the line. Wishing he could see her face, Luke said, “Are you there? Katrin?”
“I can’t bear the thought of it all opening up again,” she said raggedly. “I just can’t bear it.”
“But this will totally clear your name.”
“I don’t care anymore!”
He gripped the receiver tighter. “Are you crying?”
“No! I never cry…well, hardly ever.”
“I want you to stay with me,” he said.
“I’ve booked a hotel room.”
“The media are going to be out in full force,” Luke said, ruthlessly using the only weapon he could think of. “At my place you’ll be protected from all that.”
“It was over two years ago,” Katrin cried, “what possible interest could they have in me now?”
“You’re young, blond and beautiful. And you inherited a fortune.”
“I gave it all away,” she announced with defiant emphasis.
More than once he’d wondered why a rich woman like Katrin would be working as a waitress. Now he knew. He felt laughter rise in his chest. “Who to?”
“Shelters for the homeless. Soup kitchens. Overseas aid. You name it.”
“No wonder the media are after you,” Luke said. “That’s not exactly standard behavior when someone inherits a whole wad of money.”
“What was I supposed to do? Stay in a house I loathed, living off the shady dealings of a man I didn’t love or respect? I don’t think so.”
Katrin would never be after his money, thought Luke. Not that he’d ever really thought she would be. “Have you booked your flight? I’ll meet you at the airport and we’ll go straight to my place.”
“Luke,” she said in a clipped voice, “I will not sleep with you.”
“I haven’t asked you to. Give me your flight times.”
She made an indecipherable noise expressive of frustration and fury. Then he heard her shuffling papers. She read the information tonelessly, finishing, “I’ll see you tomorrow. If you’re not at the airport, I’ll assume you’ve changed your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind. Goodbye, Katrin.” Very quietly Luke replaced the receiver.
She didn’t want to share his bed; she was sticking to the deal they’d made in the kitchen of her house. One night together and no more. All he had to do was stick to it, too.
And why wouldn’t he? Hadn’t he run away from all the implications of that passionate lovemaking in her little house beside the lake?
CHAPTER TWELVE
AT THE airport, Luke saw Katrin before she saw him. She was among the many deplaning passengers, searching for him in the crowd at the arrivals area. She was wearing a tailored lime-green suit, the jacket hip-length, fastened all the way to her throat with big gold buttons; the skirt was narrow-fitting, skimming her knees. Her hair was loose, straight, smooth and shiny. On her head she’d perched a lime-green straw hat, tilted at an audacious angle. She looked both sophisticated and unapproachable.
Not like the naked woman who’d twined herself around him just two weeks ago.
As Luke moved forward, Katrin caught sight of him. Briefly she faltered. But the other passengers carried her with them; seconds later, she was standing in front of him. Luke kissed her lightly on both cheeks. “You look very elegant.”
“I’m a wreck.”
“Then you’re doing a wonderful job of hiding it. Let’s get your luggage.”
Her eyes kept flicking over the crowds; she was fiddling with the strap of her shoulder bag. Normally she wasn’t a restless woman. As Luke took her by the arm, he discovered her muscles were as unyielding as a chunk of wood. He led the way to the carousel, where her one suitcase soon arrived. He picked it up. “I’m in the parking lot…let’s go.”
But as they emerged onto the sidewalk and the heat of a California afternoon, a crowd of reporters who had been waiting outdoors rushed toward them, mobbing them. A camera was thrust in Katrin’s face, the bulb flashing with blinding rapidity. A barrage of questions was flung at her, microphones assaulting her on all sides. “Mrs. Staines, how does it feel to be back in San Francisco? What do you think about this latest development in the murder case? Did you ever suspect Edmond Langille was the murderer? Sir, your name, please?”
Luke said curtly, “Hang on, Katrin.” Using her suitcase to shield her, his other arm tight around her shoulders, he pushed through the crowd with brute strength. But his strong-arm tactics only prolonged the interrogation; the reporters pursued them into the parking lot, their ceaseless questions shredding his self-control. “Is this man your lover, Mrs. Staines? Will you remarry now that you’re proved innocent? Would you ever move back to San Francisco?”
His
