getting possessive and he sent her packing. You remember, Phil, it was about the time Kathryn wrote that she was going to Crete on that cruise with Missy Donavan and her brother Lawrence.”
“Speaking of Lawrence,” Phillip said, drawling out the name dramatically, “what happened?”
“He's coming to see me when he flies down for that writers’ convention on the coast,” she said with a smile. “He just sold another mystery novel and he's wild with enthusiasm.”
“Is he planning to spend a few days?” Maude asked. “Blake has been suspicious of writers, you know, ever since that reporter did a story about his affair with the beauty contest girl…who was she again, Phil?”
“Larry isn't a reporter,” Kathryn argued, “he only writes fiction…”
“That's exactly what that story about Blake and the beauty was,” Phillip grinned. “Fiction.”
“Will you listen?” Maude grumbled. “You simply can't invite Lawrence into the house while Blake's home. I've got the distinct impression he's already prejudiced against the man.”
“Larry isn't a pushover,” Kathryn replied, remembering her friend's hot temper and red hair.
Maude frowned, thinking. “Phillip, maybe you could call that Della person and give her Blake's unlisted number just before Kathryn Mary's friend comes, and I'll remind him of how lovely St. Martin is in the summer…”
“It will only be for two or three days,” Kathryn protested. Her soft young features tightened. “I thought Greyoaks was my home, too…”
Maude's thin face cleared instantly and she drew Kathryn into her arms. “Oh, darling, of course it is, you know it is! It's just that it's Blake's home as well, and that's the problem.”
“Just because Larry's a writer…”
“That isn't the only reason,” Maude sighed, patting her back. “Blake's very possessive of you, Kathryn. He doesn't like you dating older men, especially men like Jack Harris.”
“He has to let go someday,” Kathryn said stubbornly, drawing away from Maude. “I'm a woman now, not the adolescent he used to buy bubble gum for. I have a right to my own friends.”
“You're asking for trouble if you start a rebellion with Blake in his present mood,” Maude cautioned.
Kathryn lifted a hand to touch her dark hair as the breeze blew a tiny wisp of it into the corner of her mouth. “Just don't tell him Larry's coming,” she said, raising her face defiantly.
Phillip stared at Maude. “Is her insurance paid up?” he asked conversationally.
“Blake controls the checkbook for all of us,” Maude reminded her. “You could find yourself without an allowance at all; even without your car.”
“No revolution succeeds without sacrifice,” Kathryn said proudly.
“Oh, good grief,” Phillip said, turning away.
“Come back here,” Kathryn called after him. “I'm not through!”
Maude burst out laughing. “I think he's going to light a candle for you. If you're planning to take Blake on, you may need a prayer or two.”
“Or Blake may,” Kathryn shot back.
Maude only laughed.
***
The house was quiet when they got home, and Maude let out a sigh of pure relief.
“So far, so good,” she said smiling at Kathryn and Phillip. “Now, if we can just sneak up the stairs…”
“Why are you sneaking around at all?” came a deep, irritated voice from the general direction of the study.
Kathryn felt all her new resolutions deserting her as she whirled and found herself staring straight into Blake's dark, angry eyes.
She dropped her gaze, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she dimly heard Maude explaining why the three of them were being so quiet.
“We knew you'd be tired, dear,” Maude told him gently.
“Tired, my foot,” he returned, lifting a glass of amber liquid in a shot glass to his hard, chiseled mouth. He glared at Kathryn over its rim. “You knew I'd had it out with Kate.”
“She's been gorging herself on the rum punch, Blake,” Phillip said with a grin. “Announcing her independence and preparing for holy revolution.”
“Oh, please, shut up,” Kathryn managed in a tortured whisper.
“But, darling, you were so brave at the Barringtons,” Phillip chided. “Don't you want to martyr yourself to the cause of freedom?”
“No, I want to be sick,” she corrected, swallowing hard. She glanced up at Blake's hard-set face. The harsh words all came back, and she wished fervently that she'd accepted Nan's invitation to spend the night.
Blake swirled the amber liquid in his glass absently. “Good night, Mother, Phil.”
Maude threw Kathryn an apologetic glance as she headed for the staircase with Phillip right behind.
“You wouldn't rather discuss the merger with the Banes Corporation?” Phillip grinned at Blake. “It would be a lot quieter.”
“Oh, don't desert me,” Kathryn called after them.
“You declared war, darling,” Phillip called back, “and I believe in a strict policy of non-interference.”
She locked her hands behind her, shivering in her warm sable coat despite the warmth of the house and the hot darkness of Blake's eyes.
“Well, go ahead,” she muttered, dropping her gaze to the open neck of his white silk shirt. “You've already taken one bite out of me, you might as well have an arm or two.”
He chuckled softly and, surprised, she jerked her face up to find amusement in his eyes.
“Come in here and talk to me,” he said, turning to lead the way back into his walnut-paneled study. His big Irish Setter, Hunter, rose and wagged his tail, and Blake ruffled his fur affectionately as he settled down in the wing armchair in front of the fireplace.
Kathryn took the chair across from his, absently darting a glance at the wood decoratively piled up in the hearth. “Daddy used to burn it,” she remarked, using the affectionate name she gave Blake's father, even though he was barely a distant cousin. He was like the father she'd lost.
“So do I, when I need to take the chill off. But it isn't cool enough tonight,” he replied.
She studied his big, husky body and wondered if he ever felt the cold. Warmth seemed to radiate from him at close range, as if fires burned under that darkly tanned skin.
He tossed off the rest of his drink and linked his hands behind his head. His dark eyes pinned Kathryn to her chair. “Why don't you get out of that coat and
