“How would you like to be a soprano?” Kate asked him, and Jake intervened.
“How’s it going, Frank?” Jake clapped him on the shoulder and yanked him away from Kate.
“Jake, old buddy.” Frank leaned into him. “I should have known if there was a good-looking woman around, you’d be there.” He attempted to punch Jake on the shoulder and missed him by a good inch. Jake turned him gently around toward the pig roast.
“Lots of pretty women out there, Frank.”
“Sorry, Jake. Didn’t know this one was yours.” Frank wiggled his fingers at Kate and ambled off while they watched him.
“Thank you,” Kate said. “You’re a very tactful bouncer.”
“Well, we aim to please,” Jake said. “Besides, I was afraid you were going to hurt him.”
“That was my plan,” Kate said. “Your way was better.” She smiled up at him gratefully, and Jake was startled by how human she looked. A little too human. He stepped back, but she’d turned away and was watching Frank stagger out of the enclosure.
“You know, as glad as I am to see him go, this is the story of my life,” Kate said. “Men leaving me.”
“Frank will come back if I yell,” Jake offered.
“No, no.” Kate shook her head bravely. “I’ll just sit here and nurse my broken heart. And what’s left of my Scotch.”
“Kate,” Penny called to her. “Come meet these dishy guys.”
“Now there. Isn’t that nice?” Jake grinned at her.
“Peachy,” she said. “I love dishy guys.”
He watched her join Penny and the two upwardly mobile jerks she’d found. Penny might be cute, but she had no discrimination when it came to men. Kate, he’d be willing to bet, had too much discrimination. Nobody would be good enough for her. She’d have to find somebody who was close to what she wanted and change him, improve him by slashing at him with those eyes, trying to wind him around her little finger....
Jake shook his head to get rid of the image. Kate was not his problem. The luau, however, was, so he sighed and went to see what else was going wrong.
Propelled back into the middle of the luau, Kate found herself introduced to Penny’s dishy guys, Chad and Lance, partners in an Ohio real-estate agency. Actually, as Kate tried to convince herself a few minutes later, there was nothing really wrong with Chad and Lance. They were overly hearty and overly macho, and Lance did have a tendency to drape his arm around her and send her meaningful glances and—Kate was mentally crossing him off when she stopped herself. This is what you came for, she told herself. Be nice to Lance. Get to know him. Maybe this Andrew Dice Idiot attitude he’s wearing is merely to cover up his insecurity and vulnerability. Maybe he simply needs someone to understand him. Be nice to him.
In fact, she vowed, I’m going to be nice to everyone, and stop being such a snob.
She gave it her best shot, agreeing to have dinner with Lance later, valiantly attempting to be at least half as enthusiastic toward him as Penny was with Chad. Still, after half an hour of evading Lance’s hands, Kate had reached the end of her patience.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, smiling at him.
“I’ll come with you,” Lance said reaching for her again.
“No, really.” Kate backed off, waving her glass. Then she wheeled around and lost herself in the crowd, stopping only when an efficient-looking blonde caught at her hand.
“You’re Kate Svenson,” she said, shaking Kate’s captured hand. “I’m Valerie Borden, the social director here.”
“Oh. Hello, Ms. Border,” Kate said, still checking over her shoulder for Lance.
“Borden. But you must call me Valerie. We’re all friends here at The Cabins.”
Wonderful. Kate turned to look at Valerie for the first time.
Valerie was tall, blond, polished, and patrician. Kate felt as if she were looking into a mirror except that Valerie was smiling.
“We’re so glad you’re here, Kate,” Valerie said. “I’d love to sit and talk with you some time. I’m sure we have so much in common.”
“We do?” Kate said.
“Absolutely. But it’s time to party now. We don’t want you to be alone.” Valerie tucked Kate’s hand under her arm and led her into the crowd near the pool. “Let me introduce you to some people. Is there anyone in particular you’d like to meet?”
Kate looked at her trapped hand and decided to play along. Resisting Valerie was bound be exhausting and fruitless anyway; Valerie was plainly a woman who routinely got what she wanted. “Tall, distinguished, rich businessmen,” Kate said, remembering Jessie and the wish list. “It’s an assignment.”
Valerie blinked at her bluntness and then recovered. “All right,” she said and proceeded to make good her word.
Kate debated the state of the environment with Rick, who was tall, distinguished and the head of his own ecological impact firm. She learned about polo ponies from Eric, who was tall, distinguished and the VP of a consulting firm. She discussed the market with Donald, who was tall, distinguished and vague about what he did for a living. She agreed that golf was the only civilized game with Peter, who was tall, distinguished and the owner of a public relations firm, and who persuaded her to play golf with him the next afternoon. And eventually, she found herself back with tall, sort-of-distinguished Lance, the real-estate agent. Unfortunately, Lance, after several drinks, was even more of a trial than he’d been earlier.
Lance was starting to run to fat, but his face was still handsome despite the fact that his eyes were a little too small and a little too mean. He was also a big guy and he liked using his size. He muscled them a place in line until Kate said, “Oh, let’s go back to the end. It’s quieter there.” He also had hands. He stood behind her as they got in line for the burned pig, standing too close. He put his hand on her shoulder. He put his hand on her arm. He put his hand on her waist. When he moved his hand again, she put a plate in it.
“Could you take this for me?” she asked him. “I’ll bring the drinks.”
They ate with Penny and Chad at one of the ubiquitous round redwood tables, and the night passed slowly—excruciatingly slowly—while people whooped and screeched around them.
Lance said something and Penny laughed, so Kate laughed, too, only a beat behind. Lance didn’t seem to mind.
“Lance, you’re such a riot,” Penny said. “Don’t you think so, Kate?”
“Absolutely. Anyone for another Scotch?” She toddled back to the bar by the pool before any of them could join her.
“Hello, Mark,” she said, leaning on the bar.
“Hello, Kate,” the bartender said, laughing. “How’s it going?”
“Don’t ask.”
Mark leaned forward a little. “What are you doing with that Lance creep, anyway? He’s trouble.”
“It’s a long story. How about another Scotch?”
“You sure?”
“Kate, honey,” Lance said from behind her. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“I’m sure,” Kate said to Mark, and he shook his head and poured.
Kate took her Scotch and wandered over by the pool, and Lance followed her, hands outstretched. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mark motion to someone outside the pool. Why did he do that? she wondered, and then concentrated on handling Lance. She listened to him for a while, skillfully evading his hands, but finally gave up. It was no use. She could drink enough Scotch to fill the pool, and she still wouldn’t marry Lance.
She poured her Scotch into the pool.
“What are you doing?”
“Sobering up.”
“Oh, don’t do that, honey.” He put his hand on her rear end.
“Move your hand, Lance.”
He moved it around to her breast. “Come on, baby.”
“Better men than you have lost arms that way, Lance,” she said, moving his hand.
“I want you, Kate.” He reached around and squeezed her rear end.
“I don’t want yo
u, Lance,” she said and pushed him into the pool.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Jake said from behind her.
“Where’d you come from?” Kate asked, watching Lance try to find the surface.
“Mark calls me if there’s trouble. That’s twice tonight he’s been a little worried about you. First Frank, now Lance.”
“Mark’s very sweet.”
“We both really enjoyed watching you with Lance.”
“Speaking of Lance, is he going to drown?”
“Give him a chance,” Jake said. “He’ll find the way up pretty soon.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll help him.” Jake eased himself down until he was sitting on his heels by the pool. “See, here he comes.”
Lance broke sputtering through the surface of the water, and Jake reached down and caught him. When Lance caught his breath, he looked at Kate. “You lousy bi—”
Jake pushed his head back under the water for a minute and then hauled him up by his collar.
“Sorry, Lance. My hand slipped.” He pulled him dripping from the pool. Lance gagged, and Jake let him go and pounded him on the back.
“Well, it’s been a lovely evening, but I really must go.” Kate smiled at Jake. “Thank you again. Good night.” She waved to Mark and strolled out of the pool enclosure.
“I don’t think she’s your type, Lance,” she heard Jake say. “She doesn’t seem to appreciate a great guy like you.”
Jake helped Lance into the hotel and put him on the elevator to his room. Lance’s main topic of conversation was Kate, and he wasn’t flattering. “I hope that frozen bitch burns” was the last thing he said as the elevator doors closed.
Surprising himself, Jake disagreed. Yeah, she was frozen, but you had to admire a woman who could take care of a creep like Lance so neatly. She’d put him in the pool with one quick push and then stood calmly on the side waiting for him to come up. There was a lot to be said for a woman who could take care of herself. Then he stopped himself. Cool, efficient, independent. Those were the qualities he’d fallen for in a woman once before, and she’d turned out to be a chilly, expensive mistake. The same mistake his brother was about to make with Valerie. Don’t be dumb, Jake, he warned himself, and went back to the luau.
The light from the ginger-jar lamps on each side of the big bed filled the room with a soft glow. The room felt homey and warm, and Kate relaxed once her door was closed behind her.
Lance was just a mistake, she decided as she got ready for bed. Tomorrow she would do better. Tomorrow she would play golf with and fall in love with Peter, the public relations ace, and they would live successfully ever after, playing upscale golf in their free time.
For some reason, that prospect did not appeal to her and she fell asleep feeling vaguely uneasy about her own plan for the future. That unease followed her into her dreams, plaguing her with visions of overweight blond men trying to snare her with leis while she searched for somebody else—somebody she couldn’t remember when she woke up the next morning. I’m not even cooperating in my dreams, she thought as she climbed out of bed. Get back to your plan, Kate. Work on it.
The problem was that she hated her plan even more in the daylight than she had the night before. She wanted to be swept off her feet. She wanted to see him across a crowded room and love him so much and want him so much that she wouldn’t be able to stand it. Love at first sight. Love that would last forever.
Fat chance. She argued herself back to her game plan. After all, what she was looking for wasn’t love at first sight, anyway, because that kind of love didn’t last. No, she wanted a practical love, partnering a distinguished successful man; the kind of love that two people of similar backgrounds carefully and thoughtfully constructed for themselves. That was reality.
Get a grip on your life, woman! she thought. Make it happen. Go out and meet people this morning, have a nice lunch, and then play golf with Peter this afternoon. Something will happen. You can do it. Jessie said so.
She put on some of the new lacy underwear Jessie had picked out for her, and then covered it sensibly with beige shorts and a white sleeveless blouse. Her chignon looked a little formal with the shorts, so she just pulled her hair back and wound it into a loose knot. When she left the cabin, the sky was the clear, bright, vivid blue that only happens in August. The heat was building, but the breeze was cool and the trees were full of birds singing their heads off. She was pleased with herself and with the beautiful day, and she hummed as she strolled up to the hotel for a late nine o’clock breakfast Then Valerie caught her.
“We’re going to do wonderful things today,” Valerie told her, drawing her into a group of other late risers. The hotel as represented by Valerie obviously wanted its guests involved in life. Although that had been Kate’s sincere plan, when suddenly confronted with the reality of mingling with others, she backed off, appalled.
“Not right now, Valerie,” she said, trying to sidle off.
“Tennis, croquet, golf, horseback riding, or tag in the pool—what’s it going to be?” Valerie drew her inexorably back into the group.
I’d rather die, Kate thought.
“What’s it going to be, Kathy, honey?” Frank was in front of her, dressed in a wide-striped T-shirt, bouncing on his heels. “How about pool tag?” He leered at her. “I want to see you in that bathing suit.”
“I don’t think so.” Kate backed away again. “Thanks.”
She turned and saw Jake, walking down the drive, carrying fishing poles, a small six-pack cooler, and a duffel bag of what looked to be cushions. He was wearing cutoffs that had seen much better days, an old, torn, checked shirt, and his cowboy hat. He nodded briefly at her and walked past her toward the woods, his hat tilted down to keep the sun off his face.
“Well, you have to do something,” Valerie said with a determined smile. “You can’t just sit.”
“I am doing something.” Kate jerked her thumb at Jake. “I’m going fishing with Jake.” She turned and walked down the path behind him, taking long strides to catch up.
“You don’t actually have to take me fishing,” she told him, knowing he’d heard. “Just let me stay with you until we’re into the woods and I’m safe.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then handed her the poles without looking at her or breaking his slow, relaxed amble. “There’s an extra pole and room in the boat.”
Kate hesitated a moment, but when she looked back, Valerie was watching her.
And I’m paying a lot of money for this, she thought. I’m going to kill Jessie. Then she sighed and turned to follow Jake through the woods to the lake.
Chapter Three
The lake was small, secluded, and green. Pulled up on its stony shore was a wide shallow rowboat that looked like it had lost its paint before Kate had been born.
“This floats?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jake tossed the duffel in. “I wouldn’t jump up and down in it, but it floats.”
“There aren’t any seats,” Kate said.
“Somebody ripped them out once to use as oars.” Jake pushed the boat most of the way into the water. “Stack the cushions. If you’re still coming.”
Kate looked over her shoulder. Valerie was definitely out of sight, but she was also one of the most determined women Kate had ever met. Better to take no chances. She stepped carefully into the boat and dumped the duffel out There were half a dozen square blue plastic-covered boat cushions, and several faded-pink sofa pillows. She stacked three of the plastic cushions at each end and sat on one stack, her hands neatly folded in front of her. Jake climbed in opposite her and pushed off, rowing when the boat had floated a little way into the lake. It was the most energetic thing she’d seen him do, but even here he was lazy, rowing with long, slow strokes. She watched his hands on the oars and the flex of the muscles in his forearms, mesmerized by the slow movement of his body as he pulled the oars deeply through the water.
He rowed them into
the shade of a willow on the far bank, tied the boat to an overhanging branch, and spread the plastic cushions he’d been sitting on behind him, topping them with the sofa pillows. Kate did the same with her cushions and leaned back to watch him.
Every move he made was slow, she realized, but exactly efficient. He picked up his rod, cast his line expertly into the water, and then jammed the pole between the gunwale of the boat and the oarlock. No wasted movement While she was still admiring his efficiency, he kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt.
His shoulders were broad, with the kind of muscle that came from everyday work. He leaned toward her and she tensed, remembering Lance, but all he did was hand her the second rod. “Beer’s in the cooler,” he said, and settled back into the cushions at his end of the boat, the pillows under his head, tipping his hat over his face until all she could see was the curve of his mouth under his mustache.
Kate looked at her rod.
“Jake,” she said softly. “There’s no bait on my hook.”
“If you bait your hook,” he said patiently from under his hat, “you will catch a fish.”
She waited for further explanation but he was finished. Evidently for Jake, fishing meant sleeping half naked under a willow tree. When she thought about it, it made sense. She didn’t like fish anyway.
She cast her line in and jammed her pole beside his and then made herself a nest in the cushions, stretching her legs out beside his, careful not to touch him. She leaned back and stared up through the willow, listening to the water lap the side of the boat and the wind gently stir the drooping silver leaves above her. The sound was narcotic, and after a while Kate began to relax for the first time in as long as she could remember. Maybe life doesn’t count out here, she thought lazily. Maybe time stops out here, and nothing matters. Maybe it’s magic. She smiled and watched the clouds, filtered through the curtain of willow leaves above her.
After a while she looked over at Jake. His chest was rising and falling in slow deep rhythms, and unconsciously she started to breathe with him, feeling the last of the tension drain from her body as the boat drifted gently in the water.