September Morning. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ drew deeply on his cigarette, looking down his straight nose at her, and she couldn't help noticing how dangerously attractive he was in his dark evening clothes. The white silk of his shirt was a perfect foil for his olive complexion, his arrogant good looks. The tang of his Oriental cologne drifted down into her nostrils, a fragrance that echoed his vibrant masculinity.

      “Hello, Blake,” she said nervously, glad Maude had vanished into the throng of politicians so she didn't have to pretend more enthusiasm.

      His eyes sketched her slender figure, lingering at the plunging neckline that revealed tantalizing glimpses of the swell of her small, high breasts.

      “Advertising, Kate?” he asked harshly. “I thought you'd learned your lesson with Harris.”

      “Don't call me Kate,” she fired back. “And it's no more revealing than what everyone else is wearing.”

      “You haven't changed,” he sighed indulgently. “All fire and lace and wobbly legs. I hoped that finishing school might give you a little maturity.”

      Her emerald eyes burned. “I'm twenty, Blake!”

      One dark eyebrow went up. “What do you want me to do about it?”

      She started to reply that she didn't want him to do a thing, but the anger faded away suddenly. “Oh, Blake,” she moaned, “why do you have to spoil my party? It's been such fun…”

      “For whom?” he asked, his eyes finding several of the politicians present. “You or Maude?”

      “She's trying to save the wildlife along the Edisto River,” she said absently. “They want to develop part of the riverfront.”

      “Yes, let's save the water moccasins and sandflies, at all costs!” he agreed lightly, although Kathryn knew he was as avid a conservationist as Maude.

      She peeked up at him. “I seem to remember that you went on television to support that wilderness proposal on the national forest.”

      He raised his cigarette to his firm lips. “Guilty,” he admitted with a faint, rare smile. He glanced toward the band and the smile faded. “Are they all playing the same song?” he asked irritably.

      “I'm not sure. I thought you liked music,” she teased.

      He glowered down at her. “I do. But that,” he added with a speaking glance in the band's direction, “isn't.”

      “My generation thinks it is,” she replied with a challenge in her bright eyes. “And if you don't like contemporary music, then why did you bother to come to the party, you old stick-in-the-mud?”

      He reached down and tapped her on the cheek with a long, stinging finger. “Don't be smart,” he told her. “I came because I hadn't seen you for six months, if you want the truth.”

      “Why? So you could drive me home and bawl me out in privacy on the way?” she asked.

      His heavy dark brows came together. “How much of that punch have you had?” he asked curtly.

      “Not quite enough,” she replied with an impudent grin and tossed off the rest of the punch in her glass.

      “Feeling reckless, little girl?” he asked quietly.

      “It's more like self-preservation, Blake,” she admitted softly, peeking up at him over the empty glass as she held its coolness to her pink lips. “I was getting my nerves numb so that it wouldn't bother me when you started giving me hell.”

      He took a draw from his cigarette. “It was six months ago,” he said tightly. “I've forgotten it.”

      “No you haven't,” she sighed, reading the cold anger very near the surface in his taut face. “I really didn't know what Jack had in mind. I probably should have, but I'm not very worldly.”

      He sighed heavily. “No, that's for sure. I used to think it was a good thing. But the older you get, the more I wonder.”

      “That's just what Maude was saying,” she murmured, wondering if he could read people's minds.

      “And she could be right.” His eyes narrowed to a glittering darkness as he studied her in the revealing little dress. “That dress is years too old for you.”

      “Does that mean it's all right with you if I grow up?” she asked sweetly.

      One dark eyebrow rose laconically. “I wasn't aware that you needed my permission.”

      “I seem to, though,” she persisted. “If I try to do anything about it, you'll be on my neck like a duck after a June bug.”

      “That depends on what sort of growing-up process you have in mind,” he replied, reaching over to crush the cigarette into an ashtray. “Promiscuity is definitely out.”

      “Not in your case, it isn't!”

      His head jerked up, his eyes blazing. “What the hell has my private life got to do with you?” he asked in a voice that cut like sheer ice.

      She felt like backing away. “I…I was just teasing, Blake,” she defended in a shaken whisper.

      “I'm not laughing,” he said curtly.

      “You never do with me,” she said in a voice like china breaking.

      “Stop acting like a silly adolescent.”

      She bit her lower lip, trying to stem the welling tears in her soft, hurt eyes. “If you'll excuse me,” she said unsteadily, “I'll go back and play with my dolls. Thank you for your warm welcome,” she added in a tiny voice before she pushed her way through the crowd away from him. For the first time, she wished she'd never come to live with Blake's family.

       Chapter Two

      For the rest of the evening she avoided Blake, sticking to Nan and Phillip like a shadow while she nursed her emotional wounds. Not that Blake seemed to notice. He was standing with Maude and one of the younger congressmen in the group, deep in discussion.

      “I wonder what they're talking about now?” Phillip asked as he danced Kathryn around the room to one of the band's few slow tunes.

      “Saving water moccasins,” she muttered, her full lips pouting, her eyes as dark as jade with hurt.

      Phillip sighed heavily. “What's he done now?”

      “What?” she asked, lifting her flushed face to Phillip's patiently amused eyes.

      “Blake. He hasn't been in the same room with you for ten minutes, and the two of you are already avoiding one another. Talk about repeat acts!”

      Her rounded jaw clenched. “He hates me, I told you he did.”

      “What's he done?” he repeated.

      She glared at his top shirt button. “He said…he said I couldn't be promiscuous.”

      “Good for Blake,” Phillip СКАЧАТЬ