Marry Me, Kate. Judy Christenberry
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table.
Will closed his gaping mouth, swallowed a chuckle and followed in Kate’s wake. This evening was going to be more fun than he’d ever had before at one of his mother’s events.
“A bit extreme, but effective,” he whispered in Kate’s ear as she looked over the hors d’oeuvres.
“Thank you,” she replied calmly, never lifting her gaze from the table.
Just as he decided she’d earned her interview, his mother arrived, outrage on her face.
“William! Is it true? Did this—this woman pour champagne on Jack?”
Kate, holding a plate with various hors d’oeuvres on it, turned to look at his mother. “Is Jack a friend of yours, Mrs. Hardison? I hope he’s not upset by my little accident. If he’s concerned about the champagne staining—”
“Young woman! I heard it was no accident!” She turned so that Kate was facing her back and looked at Will. “I cannot believe you would bring such a social misfit to our gala!”
Will had hoped the young woman would disturb his mother, but he hadn’t expected such a scene. Even so, it wasn’t fair for Kate to be treated so harshly. Without even thinking, he leapfrogged several unexplained steps in his plan and circled Kate with his arm.
“Why wouldn’t I bring her, Mother? Kate and I are to be married.”
Several glasses crashed even as Miriam Hardison slumped to the floor in a dead faint.
The silence in the car was deafening as William Hardison drove Kate home. After his mother fainted, pandemonium had reigned. Kate had taken the opportunity to sample some of the hors d’oeuvres, knowing her departure was imminent.
Even as Mrs. Hardison regained consciousness, several dowagers remonstrated with the root of all the problems, William. Kate listened to their impassioned words as she watched her escort’s expression. As his jaw squared, she stepped forward.
“William, dear, I’m ready to leave. Shall I call a taxi?” As if she could afford such an extravagance. “I’ll understand if you want to stay with your mother.”
At least he wasn’t dumb, she decided with relief. His glare told her he got her message loud and clear. She was leaving, with or without him.
“No, I’ll take you home.” He turned to the slumped-over woman, her head resting on the count’s shoulder, bravely sipping champagne. “Mother, I’m taking Kate home now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a response, he’d taken Kate’s arm and strode from the museum.
She’d wondered if he’d explain, though she couldn’t think of any explanation that would justify his behavior. She hated being used, especially to upset someone. She might not enjoy the company of society ladies, but she didn’t wish them any harm.
When he drove in silence, offering nothing to account for his behavior, she silently said goodbye to her dream. After all, there hadn’t been much hope anyway. They wouldn’t sell the diner, but she’d have to take another job and save until she could carry out her goal.
Without the rude man beside her.
He pulled up to the diner and parked the car, then opened his door.
Kate didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t necessary to escort her to the door. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t listen to reason. She’d already figured that out.
Of course, she was curious about what had made him agree to an interview in the first place. But it didn’t matter. That possibility had gone the way of so many other plans.
“Good night, Mr. Hardison,” she muttered as she reached for the front door of the diner.
He opened the door and then entered behind her. She was suddenly grateful for the few customers lining the counter and the curious Madge.
“We haven’t had our talk,” Hardison said quietly.
She spun around to stare at him. “You never intended one, did you? After tonight’s events, I assume your only interest in me was comic relief.”
“I never expected...the situation deteriorated faster than I...I want to apologize for my mother’s rudeness.”
Kate stifled the gratitude she felt for his effort. “Very gracious, since you caused the problem.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Hardison. And I don’t appreciate being used.”
“I didn’t—”
“Have a good time, hon?” Madge called, reminding Kate that every person in the diner was staring at them.
With a brief smile, Kate turned. “A lovely time, Madge. Is Paula working in the morning?”
“Yep, as usual.”
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Without ever turning around to speak to her escort, Kate headed for the double doors that swung into the kitchen.
She’d only managed one step when a strong hand grabbed her arm.
“We haven’t had our discussion.”
“As I pointed out earlier,” she said coldly, turning to glare at him, “I’m not an idiot. Whatever this evening was about, it wasn’t business.”
Kate O’Connor was right about one thing. She wasn’t an idiot, Will decided as he admired her snapping hazel eyes and flushed cheeks. And she was a beauty.
And she’d more than proved his theory.
“I promise you I intend to discuss your, uh, business plans. I’ll give you my full attention for one hour and you can show me those figures you said you had prepared.” Not that he expected anything that would make a lick of business sense. Not if it had to do with the ramshackle diner.
She didn’t grab the opportunity he offered. Instead she planted her hands on those slender hips that had drawn his gaze more than once and stared at him.
“Why?”
Of course she would ask. “Because I keep my word. You fulfilled your end of the bargain. Now it’s my turn.”
He found it fascinating to watch the changes in her expressive eyes as she considered his statement. Then she looked over her shoulder at their audience.
“Go on. Give him a chance,” one customer, an older, unshaven man urged with a grin.
“Billy—” she began, then stopped. She turned back to stare at Will, her eyes narrowing.
He knew the instant she made up her mind and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, the thought of ending their acquaintance tonight bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
“All right, Mr. Hardison. I’ll take your one hour. Come on.” She spun on her heel and headed toward a back booth in the diner.
Will frowned. He didn’t want to conduct business in the diner. With an audience. Hurrying after her, he said, “Don’t you think we could find a better place for our discussion?”
Like her bedroom.
He immediately shut down that errant thought. Business. He needed to think about business. But it was hard when he was following her trim figure encased in tight black, her red hair sparking as it moved with her.
“No.”
Brief and to the point. He’d already learned she was direct, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. “Okay,” he agreed with a resigned sigh and slid into the plastic and Formica booth opposite her.
From the small black purse she’d carried with her all evening,