WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN Read online

  It was too tempting… Far too tempting. She started to lower the dress when she caught the expression on her own face in the mirror. She did look younger, more daring. And with the dress…

  Not taking time to rethink her decision, she clasped the dress more firmly in her grip. Seeing Dani's startled, disbelieving expression, she grinned at her.

  "Don't just stand there. Start looking for jewelry, shoes…"

  Dani's whoop resounded through the apartment. Barbara thought briefly of her conservative neighbors who detested noise, then discarded her concern. You're only young once, she decided.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  Unreasonably nervous, Barbara handed the parking valet her Jag keys. She wasn't quite sure if his whistle was for the car. Or for her.

  Tugging at her abbreviated hemline, she smoothed moist hands down the sleek line of wickedly sheer black hose, then raised them to close her evening wrap. The plunging neckline was a surprise she intended only for Kenneth, not the openmouthed stares of the youngish set of parking attendants who seemed to be enjoying her entrance.

  She knew that with her ebony hair, the all-black packaging was unusual. She just hadn't expected such a powerful reaction. Mustering a smile for her admirers, she escaped toward the front door. A sparkle of something bright on the pavement caught her attention and automatically she swooped down, mindful of her short skirt. It was a shiny, brand-new penny lying heads up. A sure sign of luck. All she had to do was make a wish on the penny and superstition said it would come true. Just simply wish…

  Closing her eyes, for one crazy moment she let herself wish that she had said yes to Billy years ago and that she had the last fifteen years to relive with him at her side. Opening her eyes to a partial squint, she was disappointed to see that unlike the Back to the Future movies, no leaves were blowing from the trees, and she wasn't swirling through the fifth dimension.

  Instead, time stood disgustingly still and she realized it was an impossible notion. All was normal. The boys at the curb continued smiling, their cocky grins in place, and her Jag was just now pulling into the adjacent lot.

  Oh, well. At least she hadn't wasted the wish hoping for something stupid, like a better table in the restaurant, or something equally useless. Even though it hadn't worked, she tucked the lucky penny into her purse.

  Managing to smile, despite her nerves, she went inside. Not relinquishing her wrap, she allowed the maitre d' to escort her to Kenneth's table. He glanced up with a ready smile, but his face went still. Watching his eyes devour her image, she gave in to a wanton, unexpected impulse. She allowed the evening wrap to fall to her elbows, giving him the entire effect of the strapless, deeply veed bodice. But it wasn't entirely lust she saw in his eyes. To her surprise, the look was laced with something else. Something that stirred her even as he rose and offered his arm.

  Once seated, she took a deep breath and wondered if she could keep up the facade. Even though she felt as though she were a complete fraud, his eyes told a different story. They made her believe she had somehow stepped from her fairy godmother's pumpkin coach.

  "Black becomes you," he said quietly.

  "I wear it to all the best funerals," she replied, hiding her sudden nervousness under the glib words.

  A light flickered in his eyes as one eyebrow rose. "Planning on burying me tonight?"

  Laughing unexpectedly, she felt some of her nerves dissolve. "I'll save that for court."

  "You want to win all the time, don't you, Barbara? It doesn't matter if you're in court—" his fingers trailed over her arm, creating a riot of sensation "—or at play."

  She tried to control her uneven breathing, hoping her smile was cool. "You don't know me well enough to say that."

  He smiled, the grin lifting his face, making her want to trace the laughter lines. "You Texas girls can't resist a challenge."

  "What?" A frown furrowed in her brow. "How did you know I'm from Texas?"

  "You can't quite hide that trace of a drawl. It's charming, but distinctive."

  "And here I thought I sounded every bit like an East Coast corporate player."

  He shuddered. "God, I hope not. It's one thing to act like a barracuda, it's another to sound like one."

  "Now that was a backhanded insult woven into yet another insult, if I've ever heard one."

  "Nope. You don't sound like a barracuda, and while you're a tough player, I don't think you'd fillet me in court without a touch of conscience."

  She picked up her menu in a move designed to get her away from his touch. It was too close, too tantalizing. Despite her skimpy outfit, she felt unusually warm, nearly flushed. But a glance at Kenneth showed he remained coolly smooth as always. Yet she sensed that beneath that calm exterior lurked something else … something wilder.

  "I wouldn't count on it, Gerrard." She purposely hid behind the brisk tone. It was dangerous pretending to be Cinderella. Especially when Prince Charming was smoother than frothy whipped cream.

  "Hungry?" he asked.

  "Sure," she agreed, knowing anything she would try to eat would stick in her throat.

  "I'm not sure how they maintain their four-star status here without corn dogs and grape soda, but I imagine we'll find something palatable."

  She relaxed a fraction.

  Then he leaned forward, his face close to hers, destroying the calm.

  Searching for the composure she normally possessed, she wondered why this particular man was able to demolish it so easily. She reached for her water glass, but his hand stopped the motion.

  "Dance?"

  The music was quiet classical, softly intimate. Her initial response was to refuse; then she met the challenge in his eyes and knew he was right. Texas girls couldn't refuse a dare. Rising, she walked with him to the small, secluded dance floor.

  His arm circled her body and she felt an immediate reaction. For some reason his touch brought to mind endless summer nights. Shrugging away the thought, she concentrated on not sinking deeper into his embrace. But then his arms were around her, diffusing her concentration.

  "What do you suppose our clients would say if they could see us now?" she asked, struggling to keep some distance.

  "That a settlement's not far away."

  Stiffening, she pulled back. "Don't think I'm turning to putty. Having dinner with you doesn't mean I've forgotten the ethics of my profession. I intend to fight you every inch of the way until I win."

  "I expect nothing less. You're a prickly woman, Barbara Callister. Can't you just relax and forget for an evening that you're an attorney?"

  She hid her face effectively against his broad shoulder while pretending to study the crowd. "Easier said than done. I've spent the better part of my life building my career. It's difficult to put that energy into neutral."

  "No time for romance?"

  She stumbled momentarily, then matched her steps to his. "Once. But it was a long time ago. When I was young and rather foolish."

  "Young?"

  "I was in college," she admitted, feeling again that strong surge of regret, wishing… Oh, wishing…

  His steps faltered, then regained their natural grace. "Surely there's been someone since then."

  "I have dated since college," she replied dryly. "But I don't give my heart quite as easily as I accept dinner invitations."

  "Considering how I had to browbeat you into this dinner, I'd guess it's not an everyday occurrence."

  "'Browbeat' implies you won." She glanced at him, trying to read what lurked behind his easy expression.

  "I'm only here because you won't return my briefcase."

  "That the only reason?"

  "What else?" she bluffed.

  His gaze roved lazily over her alluring dress. "Nothing. But I like your change of tactics." Blustering, she tried to protest, but the music ended and Kenneth escorted her back to the table.

  She leaned across the flawless linen dinner service. "Don't think that this dress has
anything to—"

  The waiter arrived just then, an expectant smile hovering over his face. "Have you decided?"

  Kenneth consulted her on the entrée, then placed their order.

  Barbara scarcely waited until the man moved away. "All right, Gerrard—"

  "Don't blow a major artery. I told you I liked the new tactics … or dress … or whatever you want to call it. You're sexy as hell in a business suit, so this is just—" he paused, as though savoring the words "—an extra added bonus. Can't I just enjoy it? With no ulterior motives perceived?"

  It was difficult to argue against such a blatant compliment. She knew she should set him straight – tell him that it was a sexist comment, but secretly she was pleased with his observation.

  Saved from answering by the waiter's opportune interruption, she accepted an appetizing salad. And concentrated on the tender arugula leaves rather than her distracting companion.

  Continuing to be diverted throughout the main course, dessert and finally coffee, Barbara was dismayed when Kenneth suggested an after-dinner walk.

  "I'm afraid not, Gerrard. This…dinner was more than I should have agreed to. No moonlight walks for me."

  Surprisingly he didn't argue as he escorted her outside and down the steps. She was about to say good-night when he flagged down a horse-drawn carriage.

  "I should have known you wouldn't have been up to more walking after all that hiking today." Smoothly he handed her inside the carriage.

  Barbara held her burst of anger inside, not wanting to create a scene. The driver, a pixie of a man who appeared to be in his sixties, greeted them with a tip of his jaunty felt hat as they settled in the seat. "What'll it be, folks? A fast tour of downtown, or a bit of magic?"

  "The latter," Kenneth instructed him without consulting Barbara. "We spend enough time in the fast lane."

  The man tipped his hat appreciatively. "I'm Sean O'Casey and it'll be my pleasure to show you this pretty little city. I've been taking newlyweds on tours for better than thirty years."

  Barbara cleared her throat. "We're not newlyweds, Mr. O'Casey."

  "Not yet," he replied cheerfully. "But you two got the look." With a cluck to the horse and a good deal of creaking of leather, they set off.

  Startled, Barbara's gaze flew to Kenneth's before she glanced away. But she saw the fleeting gratification combined with something she couldn't quite decipher. Despite the warmth of the day, the evening was coolish. Leaning forward, Kenneth removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. It was like slipping into a cocoon, redolent with the scent of his cologne, and lingering warmth.

  Then he took her hand. It was such a simple gesture, yet a ridiculous lump lodged in her throat as his fingers laced around hers. All the while Sean O'Casey regaled them with tales of the city's history, pointing out landmarks, driving leisurely as though the ride might last forever.

  Then Kenneth began to hum. The tune was familiar, one Barbara knew well. The one they'd danced to. One that had been special so long ago.

  "You said you liked this song," Kenneth reminded her.

  She nodded, a lump lodged in her throat as Kenneth began a full-fledged serenade. He sang the tune she and Billy had laughed over. They had pretended they were Bogey and Bacall in the song, and as the lyrics had suggested, they'd dreamed of running off to Key Largo, as well. It had been part of the magic Billy had been able to create. He'd been hilarious, outrageous and one of a kind.

  Then Mr. O'Casey joined Kenneth, lending his tenor to the rendition. But it was Kenneth's baritone that cut through the moon-washed night, taking her back in time. They truly had been desperately in love. Having had it all, it was easy to lose it.

  Kenneth's voice drew out the words and the emotion sounded genuine, as though he truly missed the things they'd done. Then his eyes locked on hers as he repeated the words that claimed they could find that love once again.

  Breathless, Barbara believed for that magical moment that he meant those words. But that didn't make sense. They didn't have anything to recapture.

  Yet she leaned toward him and accepted the gentle kiss he offered. And for some inexplicable reason, sensed desperation in the firming pressure of his lips. The kiss deepened, growing darker, moister. She sensed danger and knew she courted it.

  Doing so was totally out of character for her. As a professional, she'd become a controlled person, yet now she let those reins of control flap restlessly in the breeze that skimmed over them. And still she surrendered, her head tilting to deepen the kiss.

  Kenneth accepted the nibbling of her teeth on his bottom lip, knowing she couldn't be as uncomplicated as she appeared. She'd never been before, but she'd packaged herself to seem so in control, so together.

  He forgot about her control as the kiss deepened, lengthened. Her mouth was unreasonably luxurious as it heated on his. He found himself pressing against the hard, unyielding door of her emotions, wanting them to open up and spill into his hands. He wanted that facade to crack and reveal the girl hiding beneath.

  Then the sounds of the night penetrated through the spell his kiss was weaving. He could sense it in the stiffening of her body, the withdrawal even before her lips left his. He damned the tourists who found their moment amusing, especially since he cared little of what anyone thought.

  He resented the intrusion. But Barbara wasn't so immune to others' opinions. She scooted a short distance away on the seat as she turned her flushed face away from their onlookers. Even as he cursed the interruption, he knew he'd almost lost his own control – and control was what had kept him alive until now. He couldn't suddenly let it go.

  Barbara felt the heat in her cheeks as she sneaked a glance at Kenneth. He seemed so completely unself-conscious, she was amazed. She saw amused glances from passersby, envious looks from some of the women. But none of them affected Kenneth. Who serenaded anyone anymore in this day and age? And then followed that serenade with a soul-touching kiss? And why did it make her feel so special, almost cherished?

  It was an old-fashioned, sentimental gesture. She loved it, even though she was embarrassed down to her toes. She had spent so many years cultivating her professional image, not allowing for cracks in her armor. Yet in only a few days, Kenneth had undermined many of those standards.

  Still, her face eased into a smile as Kenneth launched into another song with Mr. O'Casey happily accompanying him. She felt the years melting away as Kenneth made her join in a silly song that had her swaying in the carriage and clapping along to the words. Then he chose an even more active tune, requiring more body movements. It was as though he sensed her earlier discomfort.

  She imagined how they must look. He, dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit, her own daring, yet classy silk confection as they jumped up and down to the antics of: Stand up, sit down, shout, shout!

  But such fun – the kind of fun she hadn't indulged in for years. His outrageous behavior had her laughing until tears ran down her cheeks.

  He paused in the song, leaning his face close to hers as his fingers wiped away the riot of tears. "Next time I'll kiss them away."

  Her heart bumped erratically in her chest, imagining another tender moment. Oh, this was going too fast! A few more evenings like this would have her believing… She didn't dare complete the thought, not with this man. The one man she couldn't become involved with. "Admittedly this has been fun, but it's getting late."

  "Not going to ditch me already?" he asked, a grin starting to tug at his lips.

  Feeling her own lips begin to twitch in response, she firmly clamped them shut. "I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow."

  "Hmm." His tone was noncommittal. So noncommittal, it immediately made her suspicious.

  "Really. I have a lot of work to catch up on."

  Mr. O'Casey drew up to the spot where the ride had begun. "Once more around the city?"

  "Regrettably Cinderella has to get back home." Withdrawing a generous amount of money, Kenneth slipped it into the older man's palm' then
assisted Barbara out of the vehicle.

  "Next time you're at the ball, give O'Casey a whistle and I'll be your driver." With a clucking sound to the horse, the old man and carriage ambled off in the darkness.

  Barbara steeled herself for an argument. "Now I'm going to have to ask for my briefcase."

  "Of course."

  Just like that! Of course. "Then you'll give it to me tonight?"

  "Oh, I didn't say that."

  So the game was still on. "What are you saying?"

  "That I'll give you enough clues to find it."

  "Clues?" she repeated, stupefied.

  "Just pretend you're on the Orient Express. With a mind like yours, you'll find it in no time."

  She didn't trust the devilish expression in his eyes. "What makes you think I'll go along with this?"

  "'Cause I'm a pretty lucky guy."

  "Lucky?"

  "Yep. It must be my rabbit's foot." He glanced downward at his well-shod feet and her gaze automatically followed his. "That's why I wear corrective shoes."

  Laughter bubbled just below the surface, despite her frustration. "You're on shaky ground, Gerrard."

  "I'm counting on it, Counselor."

  * * *

  It had been insanity to sing her the song. But since that first night, it had hovered in his mind and finally on his lips. It wasn't an explanation, not even an excuse, but Kenneth hadn't expected her to take his breath away again.

  If he had any sense, his only desire would have been to rip that mind-numbing dress from her fabulous body. But it wasn't that simple. Not that his hormones hadn't kicked into overdrive. But his feelings ran deeper. He wanted to protect her, cherish her as he knew she deserved.

  And now it was too late to tell her.

  He'd only wanted to string this out long enough to find out who she'd become. He hadn't counted on losing his heart in the process.

  But how could he tell her? How could she believe him … and not hate him? He thought of all the angles and possibilities … and came to one inevitable conclusion. She couldn't do anything less than despise him.