A Bridge to Love Read online

  “Can't you invest the proceeds and live on the interest?”

  “Not if I want to keep the house.”

  Georgia looked murderous. “If David were standing here now, I would give that bastard a piece of my mind.”

  “I thought that his share was worth more than Oliver says it is.”

  “Do you trust Oliver?”

  “Completely. He would never cheat me.” Kate took a sip of her wine before the irony of her statement struck her. “Of course, that's what I thought about David, too.” Kate felt anger rip through her. Because of her husband's betrayal, she was even questioning Oliver's integrity.

  “I have plenty of money, Kate. You can have as much as you want.”

  Kate's tears spilled over again. First Oliver and now Georgia offered her their help. She had no right to feel so miserably alone when she had such good friends. She reached for Georgia's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “You don't know how much I appreciate your offer.”

  “But you're not going to take me up on it.”

  Kate shook her head. “I have to come up with a long-term solution.”

  “You're so damned independent.”

  “And you're such a clinging vine,” Kate laughed. She raised her glass in a mock salute. “Here's to independent women!”

  “And to hell with lying, cheating men!” Georgia said, raising her glass in return.

  She woke up angry the next morning. It was better than the awful despair of the night before. However, she found herself snapping at Clay and Patrick over nothing. When Gretchen upset her water bowl, Kate swatted her instead of just cleaning it up as she normally would have done. All three recipients of her wrath looked stunned. Kate realized Georgia was right: she had to do something to vent this rolling boil of anger before it scalded everyone around her. But how exactly was she supposed to hit back at David when he was no longer there?

  As she was putting the wine bottle in the recycling bin after the boys left for school, the image of Randall Johnson's large hand wrapped around a bottle of beer flashed across her mind. Was that what David had felt when he saw Sylvia, that shock of attraction? But she had said no to Randall Johnson. David had said yes.

  So why the hell had she rejected Randall Johnson's invitation? That was easy; she still thought of herself as David's wife. Even though he obviously hadn't felt hindered by the fact that he was her husband. Well, the next man who asked her out was going to get an enthusiastic acceptance.

  “And when exactly do I expect to get asked on a date again?” Kate said to Gretchen, who lifted her head and looked quizzical. “Randall Johnson was my one and only chance.”

  Looking at Gretchen's sympathetic face, Kate had a moment of clarity, her first since discovering the letter. She knew exactly how she would hit back. Since David had slept with another woman, she was going to sleep with another man. It wouldn't be quite “an eye for an eye,” since she was no longer married, but the symmetry pleased her engineer's mind. She figured she could only do it once; she couldn't imagine facing a man she had gone to bed with on a first date with any self-respect the morning after.

  Randall Johnson would be the perfect candidate; he was a stranger and a womanizer. And he was very, very attractive.

  She picked up and put down the telephone half a dozen times. Finally, she called information for the number of RJ Enterprises in New York City.

  “The worst that can happen is that he'll say no. And he'll think that I'm incredibly pushy. Not to mention indecisive,” she said aloud to Gretchen, as she held the receiver in her hand for the umpteenth time. “But since I'll never see him again, what difference does it make?” The last thought gave her the courage she needed to dial the number. She asked for Randall Johnson and was amazed to be put through to his assistant immediately.

  “Hello, my name is Kate Chilton. I wondered if I might speak with Mr. Johnson,” Kate mustered after a moment's hesitation.

  “He's in a meeting right now. May I take a message?”

  Did she want to leave a message? If she didn't, she would never have the nerve to call again. “Um, yes, please. Would you tell him that I called and this is my number.” Kate rattled off her telephone number.

  “And what company are you with?”

  “I'm not. I mean, it's a personal call.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Chilton. I'll give him the message as soon as he's out of the meeting.”

  “It's not urgent,” Kate said, hoping that the message would somehow get lost at the bottom of the pile. “Thanks very much.”

  Of course, the telephone rang almost continuously after that. Each time Kate mentally braced herself for a conversation with Randall Johnson. Each time it was a telemarketer or a mother arranging a ride. She had finally forced herself to sit down with Oliver's sheets of numbers on David's share of C/R/G and was engrossed in deciphering the figures when the phone rang again. Kate picked it up without taking her eyes off the papers. “Hello.”

  “Kate Chilton. I have a message here from you.”

  Kate bolted out of her chair and banged her knee on the desk. Randall Johnson's voice in her ear sent a shock to her nerve endings. She wasn't sure if it was caused by fear or excitement. He sounded much more businesslike now, his Texas twang brisker and more clipped.

  “Thank you so much for calling back so promptly.” She tried desperately to remember her speech. “We met at the Princeton picnic on Sunday.”

  “I remember.”

  Thank goodness for that. Now for the really hard part. Kate took a deep breath. “I wondered if your invitation for dinner on Friday was still open? I realized that I was hasty and even rude in refusing so quickly and I apologize. I hope that you would still like to continue our conversation.” She knew that she was babbling so she stopped.

  There was silence. She sat down and dropped her head onto one hand in mute humiliation.

  “I'll pick you up at eight.”

  “Really?” Kate said before she could stop herself.

  Kate could hear the amusement in his voice when he said, “Really. Just tell me where you live.”

  Kate gave him her address and directions. He repeated them back to her, said, “I'll see you Friday,” and hung up.

  Kate looked at the telephone receiver in her hand. “Yes, but how much of me will you see Friday?”

  After he hung up, he swiveled his desk chair to stare out at the Statue of Liberty standing tall over the harbor.

  Randall was sure that Kate hadn't enjoyed that phone call. So what had driven her to make it? There was some powerful motivation there, that much was clear to him. And it had to be more than his sex appeal. She had resisted that pretty successfully before. By rights, he should have told her to forget it, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He chuckled when he recalled her incredulous “really?”

  Randall got up and went into the next office, which belonged to RJ Enterprises' executive vice-president, Tom Rogan. They had met in Columbia University's night-and-weekend business school program. When Randall could afford an employee besides himself at RJ Enterprises, Tom had been the first person he hired. It had been a gamble for Tom to join such a new venture, and sometimes it had been a roller-coaster ride, but Randall had made sure that Tom never regretted it. RJ Enterprises had made them both wealthy beyond even Randall's dreams... and he had some big dreams. He dropped into the chair in front of Tom's desk and waited for him to get off the telephone.

  Tom grinned at him. “It's always bad news when you come to my office.”

  “And this is no exception. I need you to take over for me at the Lexcon meeting on Friday.”

  “I thought you wanted to tell them where to go yourself,” Tom said.

  “Something's come up unexpectedly. I have to get out of here by seven.”

  “No problem.” Tom clicked a few keys on his computer to put the meeting on his schedule. “Is this unexpected event tall, blond and female?”

  “Is it any of your business?” Randall said without heat.<
br />
  Tom leaned back in his chair. “It is when you ruin my Friday night for it.”

  “I know blackmail when I hear it. I'll let you know on Monday if it was worth ruining your Friday night.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Anytime,” Randall said with a sudden smile as he got up to leave. “I owe you one.”

  “You know you do,” Tom mock-groused. “And all I want is just one—of your blondes, I mean.”

  “Be careful what you wish for.”

  Four

  Randall Johnson was in a bad mood. His afternoon meeting had run late, and the Lexcon people had shown up early. They caught him in the hall outside the conference room and bent his ear for twenty minutes before he handed them over to Tom. When he finally got back to his office, he picked up the telephone to cancel dinner with Kate Chilton. Then he punched the speed dial for the company helicopter instead.

  “Hey, Janine. Can you come pick me up at the office? I'm late as hell and I don't feel like fighting traffic tonight.”

  “Sure, boss. Where to?”

  “Back to home base. And I need a ride.”

  “The Jeep is here.”

  Randall dialed Kate's number next.

  She sounded distracted. He heard a dog barking and voices in the background.

  “Kate. This is Randall Johnson. I'll be about a half an hour late. I apologize.”

  “I appreciate the phone call. Thank you for letting me know.” Her voice sounded more focused now. “Traffic can be terrible on Friday nights.”

  He had no intention of telling her that he was flying to New Jersey. He was, however, eavesdropping on the conversation going on behind her. He heard something about “some rich guy” and “Mom hasn't been on a date since before we were born” and “she doesn't know what to wear.” He was smiling as he said, “Sounds like you could use a little extra time.”

  “Oh no, it's just an average dinner at the Chilton house: total chaos.” She answered cheerfully, but he could hear her shushing the speakers.

  “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Don't rush. I mean, drive carefully.”

  Kate put down the phone and shot the boys a look. “If Randall Johnson overheard what you said—”

  “What?” they protested together.

  “We were being quiet!” Clay said.

  “We didn't say anything bad,” Patrick mumbled, looking at his plate.

  Kate rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Eat your dinners. I have to go get dressed.”

  Halfway up the stairs she decided she could use a glass of wine to fortify herself for the coming evening. “False courage,” she muttered under her breath as she returned to the kitchen and filled her glass to the top.

  Upstairs, she gulped down half, and then pulled out the two outfits she was debating between. The suit was tasteful and conservative; the dress was, well, provocative. She hung the suit back up. If she was going to act like a tart, she was going to dress like a tart. And that, Kate decided, included the underwear. If she got to the point where she was taking her dress off – which now she wasn't at all sure she would – she wanted to keep Randall Johnson in the right mood. She scrabbled around on the top shelf of her closet until she found the box she had stashed there ages ago.

  Brushing the dust off the yellowed cardboard, Kate flipped open the box and pulled out a wispy beige lace teddy, a bridal shower gift that she had worn once or twice for David. With it came stockings to hook onto the garters dangling from the frilled leg openings. Kate put it all on, wrestling with the old-fashioned fasteners. Miraculously, it still fit. She took a deliberately brief glance in the mirror as she walked over to put the dress on. “Frederick's of Hollywood, here I come.”

  As she zipped up, Kate walked back to the mirror and stopped in shock. She had forgotten how dramatic the dress was. The dark green brought out the red highlights in her hair. The soft fabric fit tightly around her shoulders and arms, and crossed low over her breasts, drawing attention to the expanse of neck and chest left bare. It draped subtly around her waist and hips, hinting at rather than clinging to those curves.

  However, its hem stopped well above her knees and Kate twisted and turned to make sure that the tops of her stockings didn't show. She slipped on a pair of high-heeled pumps – also unearthed from the back of the closet – and immediately longed for her running shoes. She felt as though she were balancing on stilts. “You're out of practice, my girl,” she admonished herself as she fastened on a pair of gold earrings.

  But when she surveyed the full effect in the mirror, she felt a surge of pure feminine power. The soccer mom was gone and in her place stood a seductress. The dress whispered against the hidden lace as she moved. The waving ends of her hair tickled the tops of her almost bare shoulders. Even the wretched high heels put a seductive sway in her walk. “So there, David,” Kate said, polishing off the rest of the wine.

  A tottery journey down the stairs brought her mood down a notch, but the speechless stares Clay and Patrick gave her confirmed her transformation. Brigid had let herself in while Kate was upstairs.

  “Save us and bless us! You look like a fashion model, to be sure,” the baby-sitter exclaimed in her Irish brogue.

  Kate laughed. “As long as I don't break my ankle.” She had poured herself another glass of wine and was sipping it more slowly. Since she hadn't eaten dinner yet, the first glass was already giving her a delicious sense of recklessness.

  The doorbell rang.

  Kate reminded herself to walk slowly. When she reached the front door, she realized that Clay, Patrick, Brigid and Gretchen had all come with her. She could feel a slightly hysterical giggle rising up in her throat as she imagined Randall Johnson's view of Kate and Company. She quelled it with a deep breath and pulled open the big oak door.

  In his dark business suit, Randall Johnson looked much larger than she remembered. The porch light threw sharp shadows across the planes of his unsmiling face. Kate's buoyant mood evaporated as she acknowledged the full extent of her miscalculation. She had involved a powerful and unknown quantity in her already complicated life.

  Then Randall's eyes swept down her and he smiled in a way that said he had gotten the intended message. “Hello, Kate,” he said. “I'm glad you reconsidered seeing me this evening.”

  The black velvet drawl was back and Kate swallowed hard. “So am I,” she lied as she stepped aside to let him in. He raised his eyebrows as he got the full impact of the welcoming committee, but he handled all the introductions with aplomb, even bending down to scratch Gretchen's ears. Kate was hugely relieved when both boys remembered to shake hands. She reached for her jacket but Randall picked it up first and held it for her. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and then jumped when his fingers brushed against her neck as he flicked her hair out from under the collar.

  “I don't bite,” he said softly in her ear.

  Kate smiled dubiously as she laid her hand on the arm he offered her. “I feel a little awkward.”

  “You look stunning.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said with real gratitude and a return of confidence. She suddenly realized that her hand was resting on the very forearm that had attracted her attention in the first place. She couldn't resist sliding her hand over the fine wool to feel the muscle underneath. She knew that Randall felt her near caress because he brought her closer to his side.

  After she bade the boys good night, Kate squared her shoulders and walked bravely out of the shelter of her home. As she navigated down the steps, she gave a small snort of disgust at her precariousness. Randall looked down with a raised eyebrow, and Kate explained, “I hate high heels.”

  “Feel free to take them off anytime.” His tone implied that she could take off more than her shoes. Kate shivered with nervous anticipation; he was much better at this than she was.

  “I hope you don't mind if we stop at my house,” Randall continued in a brisker tone. “I want to change cars.”

  “Of cou
rse not, I'd love to see your home.” Georgia had told her that Randall Johnson lived in a magnificent post-modem mansion on a hilltop estate, the highest hill in Claremont. As an engineer and the widow of an architect – Kate grimaced mentally – she was fascinated by large man-made structures.

  Randall ushered her into a Jeep, and they chatted on the drive to his house, but Kate realized she was barely listening to anything that either one of them said. She was too busy debating whether or not she had the nerve to carry out her plan. Was seducing a strange man really the best way to make herself feel better? Just how far was she prepared to go to strike back at a husband who wasn't even here to know about it?

  The Jeep's headlights swept around a curve and through a metal gate that was still swinging open as they passed. Kate got the impression of trees arching over a cobblestone driveway as they roared through the darkness for what seemed like miles. Then the headlights flashed over a massive metal-sheathed door and around a completely private courtyard. They finally came to a stop. Randall turned to Kate and said, “Welcome to Eagle's Nest.”

  The stone and steel structure seemed to glow in its frame of trees. Kate was speechless in her admiration. As Randall came around to open her door, she refocused her attention, concentrating on keeping her knees together and her skirt down as she swung her legs out. She was about to grab the door frame to steady her descent when Randall offered his hand. Kate hesitated a fraction of a second before accepting. As he slid his other hand up to brace her elbow, his eyes glinted with mockery, “Having second thoughts, Kate?”

  “No, I just wanted to make sure that my feet were firmly planted on the ground.”

  Randall laughed and Kate changed the subject. “Your house is magnificent. May I ask who designed it?”

  “Your husband was an architect, wasn't he?”