t boyishly slim figure. No one in the New York or Los Angeles agencies was interested in Jana. As far as they were concerned, Jana was yesterday’s news.
“Then this Hollywood actress obsession took hold of her, and unfortunately she failed, dismally trying to remember her lines as the cameras rolled.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It was at about that point that she began making the self-help and group therapy rounds. She went through periods of fad diets, deep depression, sensitivity groups—you name it and she was into it. I suggested that she go to a respected local psychiatrist, but she ignored my advice as usual and preferred to stick with the most faddish encounter group of the day.
“That’s when I decided to do something about Krista. As poor a father as I had been, even I knew that all Jana’s neuroses couldn’t be good for an impressionable nine-year-old girl. Damn!” He swore at himself and bit his lower lip in annoyed remembrance. “I should have seen it earlier. Maybe I could have prevented all of Krista’s problems. Perhaps if I had been paying a little more attention to my kid rather than my business interests, Jana would be alive today and Krista would be walking like a normal and healthy eleven-year-old!”
“You can’t blame yourself,” Erin objected. “You tried to help.”
Steely gray eyes flashed fire at her. “‘Too little, too late,’ as the saying goes.”
Erin had trouble keeping her silence. She saw the emotions that were ripping him apart as he thought about his past. His fist clenched tightly before he thrust it into the pocket of his pants.
“There’s really not all that much more to tell,” Kane admitted in a softer, more controlled voice. “I was concerned, and I suggested that Krista come and live with me, at least for a while, until Jana could—how did she phrase it—get her head together. But she wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Krista was a burden to her, and both she and I knew it, yet she wouldn’t allow my own daughter to come and live with me! Sometimes I felt that Jana was using Krista as a weapon against me.” An almost evil look stole over his lips. “And it worked! Not only did it bother me, but Krista became steadily more introverted. She always had been a somewhat shy, quiet child, but it seemed that she was withdrawing too deeply into herself, becoming sullen.” There was a long pause while Kane drew in a steadying breath. “And then, of course, there was the accident. Up until that time, at least I could talk to Krista.” His eyes darkened with a quiet rage at the circumstances that had led to the isolation from his only child. “But since the accident and her paralysis, I have trouble communicating with her about anything. It’s as if she’s punishing me for what happened to Jana….” He shifted his weight uncomfortably on the couch before murmuring, in a barely audible voice, his own self-condemnation. “I suppose that I deserve it!”
“No!” Erin challenged.
“For God’s sake, Erin. Krista watched her mother die!”
“Oh, Kane, don’t go on blaming yourself for something that no one could prevent,” she begged.
“Easier said than done,” he muttered.
Telling the story had been an ordeal that Kane hadn’t prepared himself for. He was nervous and amazed at his own confessions to Erin. It was never his intention to divulge so much of himself to her. He didn’t want her to be able to see into his mind, and yet he had just given her the chance.
Kane had told himself that he needed to get to know Erin to find out more about the embezzling scheme at the bank, but the pleading look of innocence in her eyes, the soft, petulant curve of her lips, and her clear-sighted, intelligent mind all trapped him into admitting things that he had hidden from the rest of the world. Why was it so damn easy to talk to her, to confide his most introspective thoughts to her?
Erin was obviously moved by his story; he could see that in the caring look of pain she directed toward him and the unshed tears in her eyes. God, he reminded himself, he had to get away from her while he still could.
He cleared his throat and put his empty coffee cup on the table. Avoiding her eyes, he reached for his jacket and slipped the sport coat over his shoulders. “I guess that we had better call it a night,” he declared with a touch of tenderness in his voice. He fought the urge to draw her into his arms and kiss away the tears she was trying courageously to hide.
“You’re leaving?” Was it a surprise or disappointment that made her touch her lips provocatively?
“I think it would be best.”
“Why?”
“I thought you were the one who wanted to keep our relationship strictly business….”
“It’s too late for that now,” she whispered, and her wide violet eyes touched his.
“Convince me,” he coaxed huskily, and mentally cursed himself for his own weakness.
“What would it take to convince you?” she teased, still blinking back the tears that pooled in her eyes.
“Use your imagination….”
A slow seductive smile lit her eyes. “You’re wicked,” she accused. “You know that, don’t you?” She crossed the living room and let her fingers slide inside his jacket to press warmly against the light cotton fabric of his shirt. Powerful muscles tensed under the sensitive touch of her fingertips.
A slow groan of agonized pleasure escaped from his throat before he lowered his head to hers and captured her lips with his. “Oh, Erin,” he whispered as he swept her off her feet and carried her toward the bedroom, “why is it that I can’t resist you?”
Seven
The bed creaked and shifted in the darkness.
“What are you doing?” Groggily she asked the question. Erin’s eyes fluttered open as she felt Kane stir and move out of bed.
“I have to get up—I have work to do today,” Kane replied and rubbed her tousled head fondly. In the inky blackness of the predawn hours, he could see her. Even after a passionate night of lovemaking, she looked serenely enchanting against the stark whiteness of the bedsheets.
She groaned and rolled over. “But, oh, God, it’s only”—Erin reached for the alarm clock and pulled the luminescent dial within inches of her face and sleepy eyes—”four-thirty in the morning.” There was another agonized groan as she pushed the clock back on the nightstand. “No one in his right mind gets up at this time of day,” she moaned, and stuffed her face back into the downy softness of her pillow.