Heart of Ice. Diana Palmer

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Heart of Ice - Diana Palmer


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fine, thanks,” she replied tersely.

      “What are you working on now?”

      She swallowed. Ada had finked on her, she just knew it. “Actually, I’m doing another historical.”

      “On…?”

      She cleared her throat. “Wyoming,” she mumbled.

      “Pardon?” he said.

      Her lips made a thin line. “Wyoming,” she said louder.

      “A historical novel about Wyoming. Well, well. Have you done a lot of research?”

      She glanced at him warily. “What do you mean?”

      “Historical research,” he clarified, watching her. “You’ll have to mention cattle-ranching, I imagine?”

      “Yes,” she said grudgingly.

      “Know a lot about it, city lady?” he mocked.

      She glared at him. “I have been on a ranch before.”

      “Sure. Mine.” He stared down his nose at her. “I don’t imagine they have many big cattle ranches in Charleston?”

      “We have good people,” she returned. “With excellent breeding.”

      His eyebrows arched. “Yes, I know. My grandmother came from Charleston.”

      She glared at him. “Did she, really?” she asked coldly.

      He smiled softly. “She used to say it was where the Cooper and Ashley Rivers meet to form the Atlantic Ocean.”

      She’d heard that, too, in her childhood in the South Carolina coastal city, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling with him.

      “She was a redhead too,” he continued, waiting for a reaction.

      “My hair isn’t red,” she said, predictably.

      “Honey and fox fur,” he argued, studying it.

      She flushed. That sounded oddly poetic, and she didn’t like the tingle that ran through her.

      She glanced at her watch. “Excuse me. I’d better put on a dress.”

      Egan glared. “Going somewhere?”

      “Yes.” She left him sitting there and went to find Ada. “Jack’s coming for me at seven,” she reminded her friend. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

      “I’ll go keep Egan company. Lucky you, to have a boyfriend in town.” She sighed. “Mine’s out at sea again.”

      “Marshal will be back before you know it,” she murmured. “Sorry to run out on you.”

      “You’ll have fun.” Ada grinned. “And so will I. I like Egan. He’s great company, even if he is my brother.”

      Well, there was no accounting for taste. She couldn’t imagine Egan being great company; but then, she wasn’t related to him.

      She put on a black cocktail dress and wore red accessories with it. Her eyes gave her a critical appraisal. She’d twirled her hair into a French twist and added a rhinestone clip to it, and she liked that elegant touch. She grinned. Jack would love it.

      Jack Asher was a reporter for the New York Times, a political specialist who was intelligent and fun to be with. She’d known him for several months and enjoyed the occasional date. But things were still platonic between them because she didn’t want any serious involvement. She was too independent.

      The doorbell rang while she was putting a gloss of lipstick on her mouth, and she knew Ada would get it. Then she remembered that Egan was here, and rushed to finish her makeup and get back into the living room.

      Jack was standing in the hall, talking to Ada while Egan glared at him.

      He cleared his throat when Kati joined him, looking painfully relieved to see her.

      “Hi, lady,” he said with a forced smile. He was blond and blue-eyed and not nearly as tall or muscular as Egan. Sadly enough, in comparison he looked rather pale and dull.

      But Kati grinned at him and Ada as if nothing were wrong. “Had to find my purse, but I’m ready when you are. Night, Ada. Egan,” she added, glancing his way.

      Egan didn’t answer her. He was still glaring at Jack with those dangerous narrowed eyes glittering like new silver while he smoked a cigarette. Ada made a frantic gesture, but he ignored her too.

      “Night, Ada,” Jack said uncomfortably and led Kati out the door.

      “Whew!” Jack exclaimed when they reached the elevator. “I felt like an insect on a mounting board for a second there! Is he always like that? So…uncommunicative?”

      “Egan?” Kati’s eyes flared up. “He’s usually much too communicative, if you want to know. We’re stuck with him for Christmas. Ada invited him because their mother died earlier this year. She felt sorry for him, being all alone.”

      “I should think so,” Jack said gently. “Well, maybe he talks to her.” He frowned. “You don’t like him, do you?”

      “Not one bit. Not one ounce. Not a fraction.” She glared at the elevator.

      Jack laughed. “Poor guy!”

      “Not Egan. Feel sorry for me. I’m stuck in the same apartment with him for the next week,” she moaned.

      “You could always move in with me,” he offered.

      She laughed, knowing the offer was a joke, just as it always had been. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. “Sure I could. I can just see your mother’s face.”

      “Mother likes you.” He chuckled. “She’d probably be thrilled.”

      “Only because she could pump me for my latest plots.” She grinned. “You know she’s one of my biggest fans. Sweet lady.”

      “She’s sweet, all right. Well, where do you want to go? The Rainbow Grill?”

      “Let’s save it for a special time. How about the Crawdaddy Room at the Roosevelt?”

      He chuckled. “You just like to go there because of their pudding,” he accused.

      “Well, it is terribly good,” she reminded him.

      “I know, I know. Actually, I like it myself.”

      She followed him into the elevator and put the confrontation with Egan right out of her mind.

      A prime rib, a salad, several hard rolls and a dish of delicious whiskey pudding later, Kati sat drinking her coffee and looking around at the elegant surroundings. She saw a nice little old German waiter she knew from other visits there and smiled at him.

      “Friend of yours?” Jack asked her.

      “Everybody’s my friend.” She laughed. “I used to think New York was a cold place until I moved here. New Yorkers just take a little getting to know. And then they’re family. I love New York,” she sang softly, and laughed again.

      “So do I. Of course, I was born here,” he added. He looked out the window at the traffic. “I’ve got tickets for a modern ballet, if you’d like to use them.”

      “Could we?”

      “Sure. Come on.”

      He led her down a side street where a group of people were just entering what looked like an old warehouse. But inside, it was a theater, complete with live orchestra and lighted stage and some of the most beautiful modern ballet she’d ever watched. The people onstage looked like living art: the women delicate and pink in their tulle and satin, the men vigorous and athletic and vibrant. Kati had been going to the ballet for years, but this was something special.

      Afterward, they went to a lounge and drank piña coladas and danced


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