of hours there, reading through the accounts of the trial. The flash photos of Katrin had cut him to the heart. Her dark suit and silk shirt, her smooth, sophisticated chignon, her elegant pumps and gold jewellery: none of these were familiar to him, showing him another side to a woman who was still, in her essence, mysterious. But her air of reserve and her pride of bearing came across even in the grainy newsprint; these he knew all too well.
The headlines were cheap and degrading; her privacy had been mercilessly invaded for months at a time. As for her dead husband, Luke loathed him on sight, with his heavy jowls and thin, rapacious mouth. Why on earth had Katrin married him?
Even now, on the lakeshore, Luke couldn’t get those photos out of his mind.
At ten twenty-four he was in the parking lot unlocking his car. At precisely ten twenty-nine he turned into Katrin’s driveway. The lights were on in the house. A bicycle was parked by the side door. He walked up the steps, wiped his damp palms down the sides of his trousers, and rang the doorbell.
The door was pulled open immediately. Katrin ushered him in and shut the door with an aggressive snap. Then she stood a careful three feet away from him and said brusquely, “We can’t talk for long. I’m on the breakfast shift.”
As an opener, thought Luke, this wasn’t encouraging. She looked as though she’d just gotten out of the shower, her hair still in its loose knot, damp strands curling by her ears. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes guarded; her jeans and loose sweater hadn’t been chosen with seduction in mind. He said, “I like your hair like that.”
“You didn’t come here to talk about my hair.”
He said calmly, “May I sit down?”
She flushed. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” He looked around, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. He was standing in an old-fashioned kitchen, panelled in pine, with colorful woven rugs on the softwood floor and plants on the wide sills. There were dishes in the sink, papers on the oak table, mail thrown on the counter. It was a room as different from his immaculately tidy stainless steel kitchen as could be imagined. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. With obvious reluctance, Katrin sat down across from him.
As far away from him as she could get.
Luke cleared his throat and said the first thing that came into his head. “Why did you drop the plates when you saw me?”
“You were the last person I was expecting to see.”
“Come on, Katrin, there was more to it than that.”
“If you just came up here to interrogate me,” she said tautly, “you can turn right around and go back.”
He leaned forward. “Yesterday I went through all the newspaper accounts of the trial…I can’t imagine how you survived such an ordeal.”
She tilted her chin. “I knew I was innocent and I had the support of good friends.”
This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. Hadn’t he pictured her falling into his arms as soon as she opened the door? “Why did you marry him?” Luke asked quietly.
“For his money, of course.”
Luke held hard to his temper. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then you’re one of the few.”
“I never did like going along with the crowd,” he said with a crooked smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“I was young. Naive, if you’re feeling charitable. Stupid, if you’re not.”
She was scowling down at the table, digging at the grain in the wood with one fingernail, the light from the Tiffany lamp shining on her wheat-gold hair. Wanting her so badly he could taste it, Luke said, “I don’t mean to be interrogating you—you’ve had more than enough of that. But after I saw those photos of you in the papers—your dignity and courage, the strain in your face—I can’t explain it. I booked a flight and here I am. I should have let you know, I guess. But I figured if I did, you might take off.”
“You were right. I probably would have.”
“Why?”
“We’ve got nothing to say to each other.”
He suddenly reached across the table and stilled her restless fingers. She snatched her hand back. “Don’t touch me!”
Pain knifed him; followed by jealousy, hot and imperative, clawing at his entrails. “You’ve got me out of your system, haven’t you?” he snarled. “Who with, Katrin?”
She glared at him. “There’s one thing you should know about me, Luke MacRae—I don’t have affairs.”
Slowly his body relaxed. “I’ve dated three different women since I left here and they all bored me to tears.”
“Hurray for you.”
“Why did you marry him?” Luke repeated.
For a long moment she gazed at him across the table. “If I tell you, will you go away?”
His eyes met hers, refusing to drop. “I’m not making any promises.”
“You only want me because I’m not falling into your arms!”
“Give me a little more credit than that.”
“I don’t know what makes you tick—how could I? You’re an enigma to me.”
“You know you’re important enough that I flew all the way up here once I found out what your secret was,” Luke said forcefully. “And if you don’t have affairs, Katrin, I don’t chase women who don’t want me around. Neither do I indulge in bed-hopping, it’s not to my taste.” His throat tight, he asked the second crucial question. “Do you still want to go to bed with me? Because in New York and San Francisco I couldn’t forget you, day or night. Although the nights were worse. I should be in the Yukon right now dealing with contract negotiations—but I’m here instead.” He gave a wintry smile. “I don’t neglect business for anyone. You should be flattered.”
“You frighten me,” she whispered. “You’re like a rockslide—nothing in your path will stop you. And that includes me.”
He was losing, Luke thought, his mouth dry. And how could he push himself on a woman whose boundaries had been cruelly invaded by police, lawyers and the avaricious appetites of the public? Not to mention her husband. “Katrin, let’s get a couple of things straight,” he said in a clipped voice—a voice that belonged to a high-powered businessman rather than a man attempting seduction. “Yes, I want to go to bed with you. But I’m not the marrying kind. No commitments, no permanence. In other words, I won’t hang around pestering you.”
“We already discussed that,” she said frostily. “I’m thinking of going to law school, so I don’t want any complications in my personal life.”
Luke thoroughly disliked being seen as a complication. He said flatly, “Right now, if you tell me you really don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave and I won’t come back.”
His
