“It's me again, Grace,” Jared said into the phone, shaking his head wearily as he waited. He glanced at the dull stain on the ceiling of his living room, wondering idly how it got there. “You have no one to blame, but yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
He should have gone after Katherine last night instead of waiting until Sunday morning to see her, but he hadn't known what to say. He wasn't a forever guy and he didn't want to lead her to believe something false. He'd stopped when all systems said go because he hadn't wanted to hurt her, yet he'd ended up hurting her anyway.
“I'm sorry, Jared,” Grace said. “Katherine still doesn't want to talk to you. Hold on, I'm going to another room.” He waited several minutes before he heard her pick up again. “I don't know what you did, but if you look as bad as she does this morning, both of you would be better off shot. She still plans to go to the candlelight service tonight. Try talking to her then,” she said softly.
He listened to the finality of the click.
Talk to her about what? The truth. He closed his eyes. He could see Paul asking him, ‘What are you offering Katherine?’ Jared didn't want to hurt her.
“Yahoo, Jared, you in there?” a male voice yelled.
Taking another swig of coffee, Jared glanced up to find Thomas Hughes fully dressed for church and standing in the middle of his kitchen.
“Did you know you left your front door wide open?” Moving nearer, Thomas stopped and took a long, hard look at him.
Jared could imagine what he must look like. He hadn't slept two seconds all night and here he sat, barefoot, still wearing his dress shirt and pants from the dance-along with a hundred wrinkles.
“That must have been some party. You look like something the cats buried."
He felt like it, too.
Running his hand through his hair, he shook his head with a humorless smile. His gaze fell on the dark circles under Thomas's eyes. “You don't look so hot yourself. There's a fresh pot of coffee on the counter and a box of powdered doughnuts. Make yourself at home."
Thomas poured himself a cup, moved to the table and sat down in a chair across from him.
“What's up?” Jared asked, gulping the brew and fighting to stay awake.
Thomas sipped and averted his eyes. “You're young, but you've got a lot more experience with women than I have. I need your help."
Jared shook his head. He'd grown to hate that word ‘experience'. “I'm no expert."
“You are compared to me.” Thomas glanced at him. “I love Grace and we got along fine, until her daughter came home. After that, everything seemed to change. Last night, Grace said she didn't want to see me again because Katherine doesn't approve."
Jared frowned. That didn't sound like Katherine, but he had never known Grace to lie. She might omit, or stretch the truth bigger than a football stadium, but not tell an outright lie.
“Will you talk to Katherine at the candlelight service tonight and see if you can get her to change her mind?” He straightened his tie. “Be sure and tell her my intentions toward her mother are honorable. I want to marry Grace."
Honorable! Katherine deserves someone whose intentions are honorable, too.
Jared raised his brows. “Why don't you do it yourself?"
Thomas squirmed like the chair had suddenly burst into flames. “Oh, I can't do that. I promised Grace I wouldn't try and get Katherine to change her mind."
Jared chuckled. “Isn't that what you're doing?"
Thomas grinned. “Not directly. Being an attorney, I'm sure you can appreciate the subtle difference."
Jared nodded at his friend. “Okay, I'll do it."
What's one more problem to solve? Jared thought. Besides, it gave him a good reason to see Katherine. He would talk to her about Thomas and Grace. Afterwards, he would tell her the whole truth about why he wouldn't make love to her last night. She would agree with him that they shouldn't take that next step. They should remain friends. He never wanted to lose her friendship or Matt's.
Thomas pumped Jared's hand up and down like he was drilling for oil. “Thanks. You can be the best man at our wedding."
Katherine looked in the mirror and applied a thin coat of concealer. The soft lighting of the seven o'clock candlelight service would hide some of the puffiness around her eyes. With her magic applicator wand, she rubbed a hint of sage on her eyelids to disguise the rest. The color matched her silk suit. She nervously fingered the embroidery trim outlining her jacket as she stepped into her heels.
Her mother walked into the bedroom and Katherine felt tension crackle in the air like lightening in a thunderstorm.
Late last night, she'd tried to get her mother to talk about what had happened between her and Thomas, but it turned into a disaster. Her mother had changed the subject to Katherine's problem with Jared. The discussion ended in a stalemate, with neither willing to talk.
“You always look good in a French braid. More sophisticated,” her mother said. “Look what I found in the attic."
She handed Katherine a worn box that had belonged to her father. Inside was his coin collection. “I don't know what it's worth, probably not much, but you and he used to play with it for hours. He would have wanted you to have it."
Katherine chewed her lip and placed the gift on the dresser.
“Thanks. I'm glad you found it. I'll have it appraised after Christmas and keep it for Matt one day."
“Your father would have liked that,” her mother said.
Katherine swallowed hard. “That another new dress?” she asked, glancing at her mother's cordovan jersey.
“Yes, it is,” her mother said, straightening her back. “Jared called and asked if he could drive Matt to the service. Since you wouldn't come to the phone, I gave my approval. I'm sure you don't want to deprive Matt of seeing Jared just because you and he quarreled."
Her mother's image blurred as she nodded.
Stop with the waterworks.
“Good,” her mother continued, picking up the perfume bottle from the dresser and spritzing her wrists with cologne. “Jared's also taking me and Mrs. Taylor.” She set the bottle down. “I don't suppose you could bury the hatchet long enough to go along with us?"
Katherine shook her head, grabbed an emery board and pretended to file a rough edge on her nail. “I'll drive myself."
Her mother hugged her. “I'm sorry we quarreled last night, but I really don't want to talk about Thomas Hughes again-ever."
She patted her mother's hand, determined to get to the bottom of it herself.
Jared's car pulled up at the curb. Her mother and Matt dashed out to meet him coming up the walk. Katherine shoved her arms in her coat and headed for the detached garage. Her heels clicked on the concrete as she proceeded up the breezeway to her car. She twisted the key and tried to start the engine. Nothing happened.
“Great,” she muttered at the silence.
Snatching up her purse, she flung herself out of the car, slammed the door shut, and stomped toward the front porch.
“Something wrong?” Paul asked.
Katherine turned toward him. He stood in front of the house. Reaching up, he removed the tarp covering his car, folded it and stored it in the trunk. The streetlights beamed down on his hand-waxed Porsche, which shimmered and sparkled like red fire next to the curb.
She shoved her keys in her purse and glared at him. “My car won't start. I'll take a cab to church and worry about the car tomorrow."
He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “You'll be late if you call a cab. I'll take you and sit with Matt during the service. I can bring you home afterwards."
She chewed the inside of her cheek and hesitated. The smile he thought so charming was looking distinctly dangerous, like it had the night he accosted her in her bedroom.
Paul must have seen her nervousness. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “I'll call you a cab."
Mr. Hobbs, the neighborhood pharmacist, drove by with his family on the way to the church and tooted his horn. Katherine thought about hailing him down for a ride, but his car was packed solid with kids. She waved.
Her uneasy feeling was silly. “You can take me to the church.” She hopped into Paul's baby and closed the door.
He strode to his side and got behind the wheel. She hugged the door. The motor of the Porsche started right up, humming softly. Classical music played in the background as they drove. She peered at him anxiously out of the corner of her eye.
Paul finally sighed and turned the radio off. “Katherine, I keep messing things up. I used to know how to reach you. And I really do want to please you.” He glanced at her. “I hope you didn't mean what you said last night about not wanting to see me after Christmas. I wanted us to at least be friends."
The way he said ‘friends’ made her skin crawl. “I don't think that's possible, but I hope you'll continue to see Matt regularly. He needs his father."
“All you ever think about is Matt,” he grumbled.
“Maybe you can take some lessons from me,” she snapped back, folding her arms.
They drove in silence.
She stared blankly out the windshield. Streetlights and Christmas decorations whizzed by in a blur as they sped through the neighborhoods. He braked, and the car slowed.
“What are you doing?” She pointed straight ahead. “It's not far from here."
He cut the headlights. Her throat went dry as he turned onto a dark, deserted side road and sped into the night.
Jared sat in a church pew with Matt on one side of him and Grace on the other. Hundreds of tapered candles flickered in brass candelabras around them, giving the chapel a soft, golden iridescent glow. All around him, the voices of the congregation-the community that had become home to him in the past year-rose in joyous Christmas carols. Normally, Jared felt peace during the service, but not now. Katherine was twenty minutes late.
Women are always late, he reminded himself.
Grace elbowed his ribs and leaned toward him. “Katherine should have been here by now. She's like you, always punctual."
His heart rate sped up, an increase in tension that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Matt looked up at Jared. “Where's my mom?” he asked, the apprehension in his eyes fueling Jared's.
“There's nothing to worry about,” a voice whispered near his ear. He turned sideways, staring into the cheerful face of Mr. Hobbs. “I saw her get into a brand new Porsche."
Jared stared at Mr. Hobbs in disbelief. Why would she do that? Turning he looked straight ahead at the cross above the altar. He clamped down on the fear racing through his head.
Maybe she changed her mind about taking her car, wanted to talk to Paul. Jared didn't even want to think about the implications of that conversation. Particularly after last night.
Maybe Paul decided to give her a ride so he could tell her about the other woman. Paul did say he'd tell Katherine today. Jared shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. If he believed that, why did he have the photos Carl took in his car right now?
Jared pictured Paul's bloodshot eyes and the hatred that had poured out of them. Would he hurt Katherine? She had said Paul wasn't that type, but he'd crushed her emotionally and thought nothing about it. Lied. What else might he be capable of?
He ignored the images that stabbed at his sanity. Katherine was in trouble. Deep down inside, Jared knew it.
Pushing his shaking hand into his trouser pocket, he found his keys. He leaned and whispered to Grace, “I'll see if I can locate Katherine. I'll be back."
Grace glanced at him. The same worry showed in her eyes. She nodded. “We'll find a ride. Go get my daughter."
Jared walked calmly up the aisle so Matt would not be alarmed. He spotted Thomas along the way. His problem would have to wait until another day. Once the doors closed behind him, he sped to his Lexus, and left the parking lot, his tires squealing, as he traced the most likely path from Grace's house to Second Baptist.
Where are you?
His eyes searched the shoulder of the road. Cars honked angrily and sped around him, but he maintained the same slow, steady speed, not wanting to miss any clue that might lead him to Katherine's whereabouts. The glare from the lights of oncoming traffic made it more difficult to focus.
Are you all right?
He gripped the steering wheel and stared out the window. The road seemed to go on forever.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone in a coat hobbling on the grassy shoulder less than a hundred feet from him. His heart began to thud as he drew nearer. The woman's jet-black hair tumbled in disarray; dark curls blew wildly in the wind.
“Katherine,” he whispered under his breath. He pulled to the shoulder, traveled a few more feet and braked to a stop. Dashing from the car, he ran toward her.
The fear in her eyes when she glanced up stopped him. One of her heels had been broken off.
“It's me, sweetheart. Jared."
The fear in her eyes quickly dissipated.
He reached her side and drew her against him. She shivered against his body.
He enfolded her in his arms. She felt like ice. He picked her up and carried her toward the car. He settled her in the passenger's side, took his coat off and wrapped it around her. Climbing behind the wheel, he started the car and turned the heater full blast. Her hands felt icy cold. He began rubbing them vigorously finally blowing on them. His mouth closed on her fingertips. She pulled her hands back and laid them in her lap.
He couldn't resist the need to touch her, make sure she wasn't hurt. Reaching out, he began massaging her arms, shoulders and back. “Did Paul… hurt you?"
She laughed, but the sound contained no mirth. “He didn't hurt me. He tried to kiss me. I hurt him. He's wearing my self-defense moves all over his body. Two courses worth."
Jared sighed with relief. He silently thanked whoever taught those classes. If Paul had hurt her, he'd have gone after him and ripped him apart with his bare hands.
“I can put a little hurt on him, too, so he'll leave you alone,” he suggested.
She shook her head. “I keep trying to tell you, I don't need you to rescue me. I'm a responsible adult and I want to take care of my own problems."
“But you're glad I drove up tonight?"
She glanced at him, a reluctant smile formed on her lips. “Yes. I thought Matt and Grace would be worried sick."
“They were, but I told them I'd find you."
“Thanks. All they need to know is I had car trouble and Paul tried to help. He'll get the part back on my car first thing tomorrow morning."
Jared shook his head. “Paul dismantled your car?"
“He wanted to get me alone and talk.” Another bitter laugh tore from her throat. “Do you know what that despicable, two-timing jerk told me?"
Jared thought about Carl's pictures in the glove compartment. “About Ann Young?"
Her eyes narrowed. “Who's Ann Young?"
He swallowed hard. She's going to be mad at me again.
Jared explained about seeing Paul with the other woman and hiring his friend, Carl, to investigate.
She folded her arms, took a deep breath and exhaled audibly. “I thought we were friends."
“We are,” he said.
“Really? You knew about Paul before we went to your office dance and you didn't tell me?” Her hands flew up. “Let me guess. It's a guy thing!” She gave him a disgusting glare.
“It isn't a guy thing. No way in hell would I protect that slimeball. I didn't think it was my place to tell you about it. I wasn't even sure if you'd believe me."
“Do you have proof?"
“Carl took some photos.” He pointed to the glove compartment.
“Paul doesn't know about these?"
“No."
She grew silent and snatched the handle on the glove compartment. It fell open. She retrieved the envelope and slammed it shut again. “I've earned these."
“Don't do this to yourself.” He put his hand on the envelope. “I never wanted you to see these."
Her lips tightened to a slit. “Can I have them or not?"
He removed his hand from the envelope.
“I'm sorry you found out this way.” He turned the heater off and moved closer to her.
“I hate secrets, Jared.” She shook her head. “I lived too many years with a man who lied and kept secrets from me.” Tears glistened on her lashes.
Her slim shoulders shook.
“Oh, Katherine, please don't cry.” He pulled her to him.
As if that one act of kindness opened a dam, her body was racked with sobs. He bent his head and placed a kiss on top of her hair. Tenderly holding her, he let her cry, wishing he could take away every hurtful thing that had ever touched her heart.
“You want to know the funny part?” She sniffed and Jared reached for tissues and gave them to her, releasing her from his embrace for only a heartbeat.
“I want to hear anything you want to talk about,” he whispered near her ear.
“Paul was convinced you and I had slept together. Isn't that a laugh?"
He felt her tense up and rubbed the muscles in her back. “You're a very beautiful, desirable woman, who-"
She interrupted him. “Is a terrific mother and will do anything to make sure Matt's happy.” She pushed away from him and sniffed again, offering him a rueful smile. “This has been one helluva Christmas so far."
He stared at her hurt, determined smile and felt a moment of despair. She was going to leave him. Classify him as “one of them,” take Matt, and leave. If he didn't explain, it would all be over before it started.
He slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel and drew a deep, frustrated breath. “About the other night, I'd like to explain more-"
A sudden tapping on the window made them jump. A policeman stood beside the car, tapping his flashlight against the glass. Jared rolled the window down.
“Let's move along.” The officer shined the beam into the car. He focused the light on Jared and snickered. “Mr. Randall, what's wrong? They run out of rooms at the nearest hotel?"
He grimaced at Katherine's shocked and hurt expression. He'd never wanted a woman like he wanted Katherine, but he'd never settle for a cheap, one-night stand in some damn hotel. Not with Katherine. He'd never take advantage of her loneliness and seduce her. He wanted to comfort her, protect her, cherish her… love her.
Why'd it have to be Sergeant Sinclair who stopped? He had to have recognized Jared's car. He was the one who blabbed to Carl every time Jared breathed wrong. Carl probably asked him to watch out for him because of Paul. Carl and Sergeant Sinclair were partners on the police force until Carl retired and became a private detective. And Jared's foster father. He groaned again.
Katherine hiccupped and wiped her face with tissues.
Sergeant Sinclair shined the flashlight beam on her. “You all right in there, young lady?"
She angled Jared a venomous glare and faced the police officer. “Yes, I am. I was just bawling about the troubles I've had this Christmas, but things are bound to get better.” She smiled faintly. “They can't possibly get any worse."