Coming Home to You Page 10

  He thought she was pretty? Against her will, she smiled.

  “Ah,” he said, “and look at that fantastic smile. Lady, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

  She knew she should thank him for the compliment, but she had difficulty thinking or speaking when he still had his arms around her and his face was so close. His dark hair fell straight and shiny to his shoulders from a center part. An intriguing dimple in his chin called out for her to touch it, to put her fingers there and play with it.

  He didn’t appear in a hurry to let her go, and she couldn’t have moved if the building was on fire. But then, to her disappointment, Mr. Elliot interrupted to suggest they sit while the photographer took her shots for the article.

  Kate pulled out of James’s arms and stepped back. He was taller than she’d imagined he’d be, and thinner in person than in his photographs. The black T-shirt and black jeans gave him no definition, but in her eyes, he was absolutely perfect.

  Mr. Elliot guided them to a sofa at the other end of the room. Everyone waited for James to sit, then Mr. Elliot arranged the rest of them around him—the two other girls on either side of him, one boy in a chair pulled up on the right, and the other boy sitting on the floor.

  “We’ll shoot you and Jamie separately,” he told Kate, making her heart flutter. “Genius meets genius. The fans will love it.”

  This couldn’t be real. Any minute she was going to wake up and realize she’d only been dreaming about James again, that he wasn’t really sitting ten feet away, that he hadn’t just winked at her.

  When the photographer finished the group shots, Mr. Elliot ushered the other students across the room to meet the band. Kate took her place next to James.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Kathryn.”

  “Kathryn. That’s an awfully formal name, isn’t it?”

  “Some people call me Kate.”

  “Kind of severe. How about…Katie? That fits you.”

  She nodded. “My dad sometimes calls me that.”

  “You can call me Jamie like my friends do. So, Katie, do you like going to school here?”

  “It’s okay, I guess. Sometimes.”

  “You don’t seem sure.”

  She shrugged. “School’s okay, but a few of the people are a little unfriendly. They don’t seem to like me very much.”

  “That’s hard to believe. What do they do?”

  “Ignore me mostly, but that doesn’t bother me too much because I’ve gotten used to it. Only…a few have made a career out of trying to embarrass me in class, to make me look foolish or stupid in front of my instructors. Because I’m younger, I guess. They don’t think I should be here. They make my life hell.”

  “They’re jealous you’re so bright.”

  “I guess that’s part of it. I’m an easy target.” And this article would only make things worse, but she wouldn’t ever have turned down the opportunity. “Sometimes I think I…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is crazy. You’re James Hayes! I shouldn’t be boring you with the problems of my crappy little life.”

  “You’re not boring me. I’m interested. What were you about to say?”

  “Really? You really want to hear it?”

  “I really do. It’s been a lifetime since I’ve sat down with a nice girl and had a normal conversation. I’m enjoying myself. Now, tell me what you were going to say.”

  “That I’m thinking about dropping out of school and returning home. I’m not happy here. I feel so…I don’t know…out of place.”

  “Hey, now, wait a minute. I’m really sorry you’re having such a rotten time, but I’d hate to see you do something drastic like drop out when you obviously have so much going for you. You can get through this rough spell, can’t you? Everybody has one now and then.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yeah, sure. More than one. When my first album went double platinum, practically every reviewer in the country said it was a fluke and predicted I’d be a one-shot wonder. Certain people can always find something they don’t like about you. And when they can’t find something bad, they make it up. It happens to me all the time.”

  “What do you do about it? Doesn’t it hurt? I can’t stand it when someone talks bad about me or excludes me.”

  “Oh, yeah, it hurts like hell, but I like what I’m doing, so I keep going and I ignore what people say. That’s what you have to do. Believe in yourself. You’re the only person you have to please.”

  She sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s not. Being different means you have to put up with a lot, especially from people who are ordinary. A time will come, though, when you’ll be glad you’re special.”

  “I wish I believed that. Sometimes I feel like such a freak.”

  “Trust me when I say that a few years from now you’ll wonder why the opinion of these people ever mattered.”

  “So you think I should tough it out?”

  “Yeah, I do. People can’t hurt you unless you give them the power to hurt you. Be strong, and don’t let those jerks get away with making you feel bad about yourself. You don’t really want to drop out of school, do you?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not really. I want to be a journalist. I like finding out about people and telling their stories. And the program here is really good. I’m learning a lot.”

  “Then don’t let anybody push you into giving up your dream.” He put his finger under her chin. “Now, show me that pretty smile of yours, and promise me you’ll never again give anyone the power to hurt you.”

  She smiled, and for once didn’t feel as if her smile was ugly. “I promise.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Once the interviewer was finished with her questions, Kate and James talked for a couple of hours more. He shared stories about his half sister, Ellen, and he showed her a photograph of his brother, Bret, when he was younger, holding up a huge catfish he’d caught in their grandfather’s pond.

  “Jamie,” Mr. Elliot called, and they both looked up. He tapped his watch.

  “I guess Malcolm’s trying to tell me I need to get ready for rehearsal. You’re coming to hear us play tonight, aren’t you? I’m giving a special concert for the students and faculty.”

  “I don’t have a ticket. I camped out for two days before they went on sale last month so I’d be sure to get one, but when the box office opened, they were gone in fifteen minutes.”

  “Would you still like to come? I can have Malcolm arrange it.”

  Her pulse leaped with expectation. “Are you serious? He can do that?”

  “Malcolm can do almost anything.” He motioned for Mr. Elliot, who immediately walked over. “Malcolm, I’d like Katie to be my guest at the concert tonight. Fix it for me, would you?”

  “Sure thing, Jamie.”

  “And you’d better arrange for a chaperon. I don’t want to destroy the young lady’s reputation.”

  “Good idea.” He scurried off.

  “Okay, then,” James told Kate, laughing at her stunned expression. “It’s a date.”

  It’s a date.

  He meant it as a figure of speech, not a real date, but that didn’t stop Kate from pretending as she sat in the audience that night, listening to James sing. He actually invited her up on stage, introduced her as his friend and sang a song to her. She didn’t think she cared about anyone at that precise moment as much as she did him.

  When the song ended, the audience went wild. James leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then escorted her to some steps at the side of the stage. “We’re leaving right after the show,” he said in her ear as the applause continued. “I won’t see you again. You take care. And remember…be proud of your gifts.”

  “I will.” As she looked at him, she knew the admiration and physical desire she felt for him showed openly in her face. All he had to do was ask her to stay with him and she would.

  He smiled. “Go on, now. My world is no place
for you.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right. “I’ll never forget you, Jamie. I swear it.”

  “Sweet Katie, I envy the man who one day really steals your heart.”

  AS SHE’D PROMISED, she never forgot him. He’d given her a precious gift that night. By singling her out, by announcing she was his friend, he’d elevated her to a position of importance. Most of the students who’d teased her stopped. Two or three treated her no differently, but it didn’t matter because James had given her the power to disregard their pettiness.

  She’d taken his advice and stopped apologizing for her intelligence. Instead, she’d made it work for her, first in her career as a journalist and later as a biographer.

  For years after that she considered contacting him, to let him know how much his kindness that day had meant to her. But she knew he wouldn’t remember her or might confuse her with one of a thousand other girls he’d met on the road, and she didn’t want anything to spoil the magic of the most wonderful day of her life.

  The idea of returning his kindness never left her, but offering James something that his fame and fortune couldn’t provide seemed impossible. Now, at last, she could repay the debt, even if it was after his death. She was at the peak of her career, and her name on the cover of a book guaranteed it would be read by millions. With the twentieth anniversary of the release of his first album approaching, the timing was perfect. This was a chance to remind the world of his talent, rather than his vices.

  Everything was coming together—finally. The only obstacle to her project and her peace of mind was a teenager holding a big fish—a kid who’d grown up to become a handsome, stubborn and confusing man. And Lord help her, he was every bit as fascinating as his older brother.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE AWOKE DISORIENTED from a vivid dream. He sat up slowly, wondering where he’d been and how much he’d drunk to make him feel so bad. Images flashed in his brain but refused to stay long enough to capture. He remembered a woman. Sweet-smelling. An incredible mouth.

  Mouth. That word stuck with him for some reason. He couldn’t remember kissing her on the mouth or kissing her at all, only wanting to—badly. Something about her mouth, about the woman, was important. The answer teased him, then moved out of his reach.

  Pulling the sheet away from his body, he looked down and swore. A quick glance at the other side of the bed was more comforting. He was buck naked and had a wound on his ribs he couldn’t remember getting, but at least he was alone.

  He tried to shake the dullness from his mind and concentrate on the woman’s face. Her eyes had been green and her hair…brown. Or maybe red. It had been long. He was sure of only that, but the rest of it…her features…her name…continued to elude him.

  He remembered her hair spread out across the pillow beside him, but had that really happened or was it part of the dream? He wasn’t sure.

  He yawned and ran a hand through his own hair. The front was oily and plastered to his head. At the crown it stood up as it did every morning like the backward feathers on a Frizzle chicken. He needed a shower to clear his brain and get rid of the cloying smell of sweat that cloaked his aching body. Only he wasn’t sure where the shower was, where he was.

  He moved to get out of the bed and understood finally why he felt so awful. He was hurt. The pain shot through his leg from ankle to groin. He examined the bruise on his thigh. The leg was grossly swollen. Looking at it made him remember small pieces of the night before. The injury involved animals, but that made no sense. And it had something to do with the woman whose face he couldn’t recall, which made even less sense.

  The woman. His thoughts kept coming back to her, her laugh, her smell. Lavender, he thought the fragrance was. For reasons he couldn’t explain, the memories were frightening, as well as pleasant. She posed some threat to him, this woman.

  Confusing. Too much for his brain to sort out at the moment.

  A gentle knock at the door had him scrambling to cover himself. He dragged the sheet to his waist as a head popped around the door. Her head. The woman who haunted him.

  “I’m glad to see you finally decided to wake up. I was getting worried.”

  When he didn’t speak she opened the door wider and came in. The shirt she wore had to be his. The tail hung to her knees and the short sleeves fell below her elbows. Her legs were bare below the shirt, leaving him to wonder what she had on under it. Her hair flowed in waves over her shoulders and a becoming blush marked her cheeks.

  From the look of her, they’d had sex. From the instant reaction of his body to her presence in the room, the sex had been good. Damn good. Too bad he couldn’t remember it.

  She’d stopped inside the doorway, obviously waiting for him to say something.

  “Bret?”

  His memory came rushing back to assault him, and the pain was worse than the kick of the horse. He knew now where he was. And he knew why the lovely woman in front of him filled him with both lust and dread.

  “Are you okay?”

  Several seconds passed before he could answer. “Yeah,” he managed to croak out, surprised he could find his voice at all. “Just a little out of it.”

  She gave him a sympathetic smile, one corner of her mouth rising higher than the other. “Maybe you’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat and you clean up. Are you okay to take a shower?”

  “I think so.”

  “Let me know when you’re through and I’ll bring you some food.”

  When she’d gone, he fell back on the bed with a groan, putting his forearm over his eyes. Kathryn Morgan. Here! In his house!

  And walking around half-naked.

  He didn’t have to lift up the sheet again to know he was fully aroused. Hell!

  A SMELL EMBRACED HIM when he finished his shower and hobbled into the hall. This smell he dearly loved, but it had never filled the air in this house in all the years he’d lived here—bacon frying.

  He made his way to the kitchen as fast as the crutches would allow. The sight that met him made him stop abruptly. Kate was standing at the stove with her back to him, swishing her hips from side to side to a classic Fleetwood Mac song on the radio. She had a fork in her hand that she banged in rhythm on the old iron skillet.

  She bent over to check something in the oven and the shirt eased up the backs of her thighs.

  “Nice outfit,” he said, startling her. She shot upward and whirled, self-consciously yanking down the shirt.

  “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

  “Only when they’re wearing my clothes and dancing in my kitchen.”

  She glanced down at the shirt and grimaced. “I hope you don’t mind. My clothes had blood on them and smelled like horse. I washed them and hung them outside, but they aren’t quite dry yet.”

  The back door was open and he could see the shorts, red top and two scraps of white skimpy underwear flapping in the breeze on his clothesline. If all her clothes were out there, then under that shirt she had on… His gaze went down her body and back to her face, which had suddenly taken on the color of a ripe plum.

  “You really shouldn’t be walking around on that leg,” she said. “Go back to bed and I’ll bring you a tray.”

  “I need to sit up awhile.”

  “Okay, but if you’re going to stay in here, at least sit down so you won’t fall.”

  Bret limped over to the table, putting his crutches under the chair, out of the way. A Mystic Waters song began to play on the radio on the counter, and he reached over and switched it off.

  She watched him until he was seated, then turned back to the stove to slide something around in the pan he hoped really was bacon.

  “Time for another pill,” she said. “Would you like some orange juice with it?”

  “I’ll take one in a minute. I didn’t think I had any orange juice.”

  “Aubrey was nice enough to run to the store this morning and pick up a few things. I knew you’d be hungry when you woke up since
you didn’t eat last night. Do you want me to pour you some juice? We also have coffee and milk.”

  “I’ll take coffee,” he said without hesitation. Bacon and decent coffee? And he was pretty certain she had biscuits in the oven. The woman was becoming more attractive by the minute.

  She took the percolator from the counter and filled his cup. “I assumed you like it perked when I went looking for a coffeemaker and could only find this. Which reminds me, are you in the habit of keeping your dirty glasses under the sink?”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be here long enough to look under my sink. I was hiding them.”

  “Oh,” she said, chuckling. “Well, I was afraid you’d get bugs, so I washed them and put them away.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I didn’t mind. I needed something to keep me busy while I was waiting for you to wake up.”

  He watched as she skillfully cracked eggs with one hand and stirred something on the stove with the other. Five minutes later she set a plate of food in front of him that rivaled anything served at the grill—bacon, scrambled eggs, grits and homemade biscuits with gravy.

  When he’d eaten almost everything in sight, he leaned back in the chair, put his hands on his middle and groaned. By his best estimate, he’d eaten five eggs, at least eight pieces of bacon, and half a dozen biscuits. He’d washed it all down with three cups of coffee.

  They sat for a while, sipping coffee in companionable silence, Bret thinking how strange it was to be doing so, given the events of the past forty-eight hours.

  “Aubrey also went to the post office and got your mail.” She stood and got it from the counter, then began clearing the table. “If you’ll tell me what you’d like to eat, I’ll go to the store and get more groceries. And make of list of anything else you need done while I’m in town.”

  “Look, just because you were there when I got hurt doesn’t mean you have to take care of me.”

  She stopped clearing and sat back down. “I know, but it seems to me that it’s the ideal arrangement, since I’m in town for the next few days, anyway. I need something to keep me from getting bored, and you need someone to take care of you.”