“Krista and I will be home late Sunday afternoon,” he was saying. “Probably around six. And the moving company has promised to have the bulk of our belongings in Seattle by Monday—or so they claim. What won’t fit into the apartment, I’ll have stored. Will the apartment be ready for us?”
Erin couldn’t hide the disappointment that swallowed her. She had hoped that Kane would be home this evening or, at the very latest, Saturday.
“What? Oh, yes,” she agreed distractedly. “Mr. Jefferies moved out at the beginning of the week, and the cleaning people were here earlier today. I’m sure it will be ready by Sunday evening….”
“Good—I’ll see you then.”
“Good night, Kane,” Erin whispered, not wanting to hang up the phone and sever the frail connection that bound her so distantly to him.
“Erin?”
“Yes…”
A pause. “Good night.”
Erin felt an incredible loneliness as she hung up the phone.
“Oh, darling!” Kane murmured to himself as he heard her ring off. He slammed the receiver down in mindless frustration and rubbed his hands together anxiously, all the while leaning against the wall and staring at the clean, white telephone in his sister’s apartment. How was he going to handle his emotions for Erin? God, had it only been four days since he had last seen—or touched—her?
Somehow he had expected and silently hoped that once he had put some distance between himself and her, the miles would erase the goddesslike image of her body and that her likeness in his mind would fade, cooling his hot-blooded need for her. But he had been mistaken, grievously mistaken, and just the reverse had occurred. Instead of forgetting her, the image of her body was burned savagely on his mind and achingly in his loins. He felt an urgency, a driving need, warm and molten, that throbbed against his temples and fired his blood. He had to see her again, and he had to see her soon, or he would surely go out of his mind!
And the lies! Oh, God, how he hated his lies. The duplicity of his situation was eating at him, tearing at him from the inside out. He slammed a powerful fist against the wall. How could he lie to her and to himself? How long could the tense charade continue?
Kane had convinced himself that it would be a good idea to live near Erin, in the same building, in order that he might watch her more closely. But now, as he stood staring at the phone, he knew that it was only his mind playing games with him again. Another lie to justify his urgent need to be near her and protect her.
Protect her? He laughed mirthlessly at himself and reached for the tall glass of Scotch that he had poured before placing the long-distance call. Erin needed to be protected all right, from Kane Webster, from himself! He was the one who continued relentlessly and mercilessly to track her down, stalking her like some wild, criminal creature. He was suspicious of her and too much of a coward to admit it for fear of losing her. A damned hypocritical bastard, that’s what he was, he conceded to himself.
Kane’s hands were shaking from the turbulent emotions that were battling cruelly within his mind. He took a long drink, and groaned as the Scotch hit the empty bottom of his stomach. His thoughts were black and excruciating as he strode into the living room and levered himself down on his sister’s uncomfortable floral couch.
Why couldn’t he just forget about Erin O’Toole and her crazy connection with the embezzling scam? Why did he continue to torture himself with the memory of the gentle curve of her neck, the slim, feminine contour of her legs or the longing way that her near-violet eyes could reach out and touch him?
Damn it, Webster, his persistent mind scolded, control yourself! For all you know that woman is just another two-bit thief, and you’re letting her rip you to shreds! She’s destroying your objectivity! Erin’s a witch, his mind warned, the less you have to do with her, the better!
Kane shifted his weight uncomfortably on the prim blue cushions of the couch and took another long dissatisfying swallow of the potent warm liquor. He needed to break away from Erin and the spell she was casting over him, he reasoned.
Then, why the hell couldn’t he convince himself to leave her alone?
Ten
Sunday morning dawned as gloomy as the rest of the Seattle weekend had, but Erin felt somewhat lighthearted at the prospect of seeing Kane again. It seemed like forever since he’d been gone. She stretched out on the bed, and discovered that she ached all over. The muscles in her arms and legs seemed to be all knotted and twisted this morning, but she smiled to herself in spite of the pain. In order to keep her mind off Mitch’s indictment and Kane’s absence, Erin had run out on Friday night and purchased several gallons of paint. That night and all day Saturday she had spent repainting Mr. Jefferies’ old apartment and the massive entry hall. This morning her aching muscles rebelled.
Against the silent protests of her body Erin got up and showered. The new paint job had been such an improvement to the building that she had decided to continue the project. She had almost finished with the entry hall, and today she planned to tackle Mrs. Cavenaugh’s apartment. Ever since the repairmen had insulated the flooring and the windows, parts of the little old lady’s apartment had suffered, and a new coat of paint would hide the dirt and chips of paint that had been loosened during the repairs. Erin shuddered when she realized that she had nearly depleted her savings with the insulation and painting projects. But it just had to be done!
Mrs. Cavenaugh had embraced the idea of repainting her apartment, and by the time Erin had swallowed a cup of coffee, looked over the headlines and nibbled on a bit of toast, it was only eight thirty. Yet Mrs. Cavenaugh was already up and ready to help Erin with the task at hand.
For as long as Erin could remember, she had never seen Mrs. Cavenaugh in anything other than a prim housedress and a single strand of pearls. But this morning the half-bent figure of Mrs. Cavenaugh sported a garishly loud green-and-purple scarf that was wound tightly over her hair, oversize trousers and tennis shoes that were presumably antiques. She was a comical sight in the outlandish outfit, but her blue eyes sparkled with eagerness, and against Erin’s protests, the elderly woman grabbed a brush and began to tackle the job at hand, only pausing to grumble about working on the Sabbath. Erin ignored her complaints and to her amazement found that Mrs. Cavenaugh was handy with the brush and had the endurance of a woman half her age.
“This is a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Cavenaugh exclaimed, “even if we are working on the Lord’s day.” Her blue eyes were carefully checking over some of Erin’s work with a practiced eye. Not able to complain about Erin’s painting, she continued, “Adds a lot to this apartment, don’t you think?” A pleased smile crept over her features. “You really are a dear. You know that don’t you?”
“Keeping up the place comes with being a landlord, especially when I can get some free labor from my tenants,” Erin laughed, and smiled at the little old lady’s compliment.
“Is the apartment across the hall ready for the new renters? When are they moving in?”
Erin slid a suspicious glance at the old woman, who seemed intent on trimming the windowsill. “As a matter of fact I expect them this afternoon.”
“Young couple?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, a mischievous twinkle lighting her eyes.
“No…it’s my boss…Mr. Webster. I believe you’ve met?” Erin watched Mrs. Cavenaugh carefully.