Chapter 7
They would have time to think on it later. The fact that they spent close to two hours in that fabulous kitchen, drinking wine and raiding the fridge. And talking. They discovered things about each other.
"You're a geek." Ingrid was on her third glass of wine and there was a warm fuzzy feeling inside her. "Who would have thought it? You read the classics."
"So?" He tried to sound defensive, but he was also on his third glass, and it came out sounding mild. "I also like the theater."
"What have you seen?" she asked curiously.
"The question is what haven't I seen?" he mused.
"I once went to a reproduction of 'As you like it' in New York.
" He smiled at the memory. "I was twenty and just starting college.
The friend was someone I grew up with and wanted to do theater.
It was a complete disaster. The lighting was shoddy and even though the acting wasn't bad, the characters kept missing cues and forgetting the lines. "
"You sounded like you had fun."
"I did." He laughed and Ingrid felt the clutch in her stomach. His smile was white against the golden tan of his skin. He was relaxed and had let down his guard. God, he was beautiful, she thought.
"Where is the friend now?"
"On Broadway. His name is Maxwell Courts."
Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
"No way! The guy is a fricking genius."
"Don't let him hear that. He has an ego the size of Texas."
"He should." She sipped more wine. "He rocks. I saw him in a reproduction of 'Baby', and I actually cried. I don't cry, really. But I did and it pissed me off." She laughed when he did. "The show was that good."
"I saw it several times."
"And you cried. Admit it."
His thick brows lifted arrogantly.
"A man does not show that kind of wimpy emotion."
"That's bull."
"I did cry a little. Not enough for my date to notice."
"That's more like it." She looked down at her empty glass in surprise and then at the time. "God! It's almost midnight."
They both felt reality crashing over them, the magic evaporating.
"I suppose we should try and get some sleep," he murmured.
"I suppose."
They both did not acknowledge they were both reluctant to leave the comfort of the kitchen and their conversation.
"Er, I'll clean up."
"I can help."
"No," he shook his head and pushed away from the counter. "I can do it."
She slid off the stool and stood there for a minute.
"All right. Goodnight."
"Yeah. Goodnight." He waited until she was heading up the stairs before sliding back onto the stool. And found himself wondering what just happened. He had just spent almost three hours with a woman he professed not to like. And had enjoyed the easy conversation with her.
What was even worse, he had just broken things with a woman he thought he had been in love with. Thought? Shaking his head, he slid off the stool and went about setting the kitchen in order.
Upstairs in her bedroom, Ingrid could not settle.
The conflicting emotions whirling inside her made her dizzy.
Pacing from one end of the room, she went over the evening.
She had arrived home from her brother's place with the intention of having a cup of tea and heading up to bed to think about her brother's situation.
She had not meant to stay so long in the kitchen or even expected that he would have come back so early.
Walking back to the bed, she sat on the side. She liked talking to him and saw something in him she had never seen before. In the past he had just been the entitled jerk who aggravated her in meetings. A guy too handsome for his own good and a slut to boot.
Now, she saw something different. He had charm as well as a great sense of humor.
And he had broken up with the actress. Which did not mean anything, she told herself. Getting emotionally involved would be a nightmare. Best to set things back the way they were, she decided.
With that resolution, she readied herself for bed.
*****
"Hi."
"Hi." He came upon her inside the kitchen the next morning after ten.
"Coffee?"
"Thanks." Walking in, he took the cup from her and sat around the counter. "I'm heading for the club. You?"
"I have some work to catch up on." She poured coffee into her cup and sat. "My dad called and asked me to come over."
"Everything okay?"
She shrugged.
"Who knows with him?" Wrapping her hands around the cup, she eyed him. "What about yours?"
"Who? My dad?"
She nodded.
"He's coming to the club. Thought we would make an outing of it. He does not go out much."
She hissed out a breath.
"It must be so damn hard to be trapped in the past. Do you still miss her? Your mom?"
A smile touched his lips.
"Do you remember her?"
"Of course. Who wouldn't? I always thought Katherine was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. Still is. She was what some would call effervescent."
He looked pleased at that.
"She lit up a room," he remembered. "And yes, she was beautiful.
" He shrugged. "Dad loved her to pieces.
I often thought she was the glue that held everything together.
They would do everything together. It was obvious he adored her.
" His fingers tightened on the cup. "She wanted four children.
" He smiled at that. "She told me once that she wanted to fill the place with children. "
"But she only had you and Jessica."
At the mention of his sister, he stared into his coffee cup.
"We're not close," he admitted sadly. "We each went our own way and never tried to get along. Mother certainly tried, but hell, we were too different. She had her friends and her life and so did I."
He sipped the coffee and wondered why he was telling her all this.
"Anyway, to answer your question, yeah, I miss her."
She didn't think; if she had, she wouldn't have reacted. So, she reached out to place her hand over his, her fingers curling around his.
"She was a beautiful woman," she told him quietly. "And you were fortunate to have her."
He stared down at their joined hands before looking up at her.
"I wasn't flirting with her. Your mom. She was the one," he cleared his throat. "She was the one trying to move, I mean--"
"It's fine Kyle," she patted his hand before sliding hers away.
"I'm used to Iona's tricks and have been since I was a child.
As a teenager I had to endure her trying to come onto my dates.
It was so bad, I stopped having friends over.
She adored Matthew, because he looked more like her and was--I wasn't thin like she was, and my height was a problem. "
"What happened?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
"She took digs at me all throughout my growing up. I should try eating healthier, go on diets, how did I expect to land a good man if I didn't put in the effort. Things like that." She picked up her cup. "Dad stood between us and took up for me."
"You have a soft spot for him because of it."
Her smile was slight.
"That's putting it mildly. He became my fricking hero.
The more he stood up to her where I was concerned, the more I loved him for it.
Then she discovered that Matthew was gay and tried 'to fix him.
'" She shook her head. "God, it was awful.
He went from being the favored child to an outcast and he had no idea what to do.
He wanted so much to please her that he started accepting invitations from the girls at school.
"He would pretend to be having fun and then in his room, he would cry himself to sleep. Jesus! I could cheerfully murder her for what she put him through."
She was silent for a minute and this time, he was the one to reach out. Jarred out of her musing of the past, she stared first at their joined hands before looking at him. This time she could not ignore the heat, the connection his touch brought to her.
"I'm sorry."
She nodded and had to swallow the lump in her throat.
"Look at us," she laughed shakily.
He drew his hand away and took up his cup.
"We're quite the couple."
She felt the jolt and felt her heart banging against her ribs. She had to get out of here.
"Anyway, I have to go."
"Yeah, me too." He finished his coffee and rose. "I guess I'll see you later." He left before she could respond.
"Well, hell," she muttered blowing out a breath. Rising, she went to dump the cold coffee into the sink and tidied the kitchen. "Okay girl," she told herself firmly. "This has got to stop. The man is clearly recovering from a broken heart. And you're no one's second choice."
*****
"You're quiet."
Kyle stirred himself enough to turn and look at his dad. He knew the holidays were the most difficult time of the year for his old man and tried to get him out of the funk.
"Am I?" He forced a smile. "And you're usually the silent one."
"That's about right." They were sitting out on the balcony that was part of their private suite at the club. It was the holiday weekend, and the place was not as packed as it usually was. The Elite Club sat on several hundred acres of land, the view from where they were, spectacular.
His father settled back on the chaise, a cigar clamped between his teeth.
"I don't need a babysitter, you know."
"Perhaps, I need one." Kyle grinned at the look he received.
"How's the marriage?"
"Why? We've only been married for a couple of days."
"And here you are with me."
"You know what kind of deal it is." Ignoring the pull of his heart, he picked up his scotch.
"So, how's it going?"
Kyle shrugged.
"We're not killing each other, if that's what you're asking."
Jason looked at his son.
"And the actress? You still seeing her?"
His mouth tightened.
"She has a name."
"I know she does," Jason agreed easily. "She is not right for you."
Kyle's brows glowered.
"Why would you say that?"