Bitsy hauled her back. “Nonsense. That’s not why you’re here. There’s the reason you’re here-my brother. Your next husband. The father of your child.”
Kat followed the direction of Bitsy’s finger. One look shattered her resolve. “You want me to marry him? The one right there? I don’t think so.” She shook her head for added emphasis.
“Aw, come on, Kat. He can’t help the way he looks. Anyway, looks aren’t everything. He’s really smart. He’s got a great brain.” Bitsy wheedled.
“I don’t suppose it’s his fault he’s drop-dead gorgeous…” Lust had her tingling in places that barely remembered how to tingle.
“Hey, you don’t want to have an ugly baby, do you?”
“I just want to have a healthy baby.” Kat forced herself to think logically. Good genes were good genes. Would anyone in their right mind not want to seriously work on baby-making with the black-haired hunk? Steady. She needed to ground herself. “He does look stuffy and uptight. But I suppose that hair and those chiseled features softened by baby fat would be striking.”
“You bet your sweet patoot it would.”
Kat’s attention shifted to the blond woman on his arm. “Claudine, I presume.”
Bitsy sniffed with a nasty look on her face. “Close enough. Claudia. The witch.”
Kat eyed the woman-tall, thin, polished, sophisticated. More than enough reasons to dislike her on general principle. But certainly not enough to think about yanking a marriage prospect out from under her. Confused, Kat wished for a sign. Could she really pursue Bitsy’s crazy scheme or should she return to waiting for chance to drop Mr. Right into her life.
She watched as a young man sporting a red power tie approached Andrew. With an apologetic look at Claudia, Andrew followed the young man out another door.
Kat grabbed Bitsy’s arm. “Come on. I want to meet her.”
Bitsy eyed her as they skirted the various groups. “Good idea.”
They were just about to make their way around a towering areca palm to the blonde beauty when they saw Juliana run up to Claudia. Juliana’s reedy, childish contralto easily carried past the palm that hid them. “Hey, Ms. Vander. My dad and I just got here. Where’s my Uncle Andrew?”
“It’s van Dierling. Shoo, you pesky brat. He’s busy.” Through the palm leaves, they could see a smile pasted on Claudia’s face that was deceptively pleasant. Her tone was saccharine sweet.
“You’re mean and I’m gonna tell.”
“If you were a smart little girl, you’d watch your mouth and your manners. I’m going to be your new aunt very soon.”
Bitsy made a strangling noise. “I told you she was a witch. Excuse me while I go defend my child.”
Juliana held a special place in Kat’s heart. The poor darling could kiss any relationship with her uncle goodbye if he married Claudia. And he’d probably never even entertain a clue as to what was going on. Men could be so stupid.
She’d wanted a sign. By golly she had one.
She’d save Juliana and the Winthrop family from the evil Claudine.
She’d marry Andrew Winthrop.
And finally, at long last, she’d have her baby.
1
ANDREW MARTIN WINTHROP III in the buff was a sight to behold. Bitsy had not told all. Of course, she probably hadn’t seen his spectacular, splendid bare butt in the past thirty years or so.
Kat lowered the binoculars unsteadily and popped a handful of M &M’s into her mouth. Get Andrew Winthrop III out of that starched shirt and those immaculately creased trousers, and there was more to him than she’d supposed.
She washed down the M &M’s with the worst coffee imaginable. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a good cup of joe right now.
Kat squinted through the binoculars again, not that she was trying to be voyeuristic and catch another glimpse of Andrew III’s well-formed buns. This was research. She could have hired a P.I. to investigate him, but since he topped her marriage list-okay, he was her marriage list-she’d decided to check him out herself. If he happened to move around sans clothes, she’d consider it a bonus. She scanned the bedroom, but Andrew had disappeared.
She settled in behind the oleander at the edge of his property and reached for the one-pound bag of chocolate candies beside her on the ground, scanning the house once more. Still no sign of Mr. “Stiff as His Shirt Collar” Winthrop III. His elegant yet sedate Mercedes sat in front of the cottage. He’d probably be starched and buttoned-down before he ventured out for the Sunday paper.
Bitsy had suggested she introduce herself while he was at his beach house for the weekend. She theorized he’d be more relaxed here than at his in-town home or office. If she only knew!
Kat trained her binoculars on the kitchen. She’d wait until just the right time to introduce herself. Maybe he’d gone in to fix a sandwich. Would he wander around his kitchen in his altogether? Hmm, interesting to find out…
Suddenly, a masculine arm wrapped around Kat’s midsection and hauled her to her feet, making her spill bad coffee and her M &M’s, and momentarily scaring the wits out of her. She registered a general feeling of male hardness and warmth before she instinctively flipped her assailant and planted her knee in his throat.
Gray eyes regarded her steadily with more than a hint of annoyance. She’d seen him across the room at the cocktail party and tailed him from a distance, but none of that prepared her for the impact of his gaze up close and personal. It was almost as powerful as his rear view.
“If you would kindly remove your knee from my windpipe, perhaps we could discuss why you’re training those binoculars on my house.” His voice was as cool and steady as his eyes.
Kat complied and stepped back as Andrew picked himself up, brushing sand off his magnificent backside. She gathered she wasn’t making a good first impression.
She glared at him. “Don’t grab me again.”
He towered over her, glaring in return. “You were sneaking around my beach house in the bushes. I believe I have a right to confront you.”
Even barefoot and in sweats-which she was amazed he owned since they couldn’t be starched-Andrew Winthrop exuded icy arrogance.
Kat drew herself up to her full height, all five feet four and a half inches, and tilted her chin. “I certainly was not sneaking. And you spilled my coffee and my candy.”
His thin, hard lips compressed even further. “Oh, pardon me. What do you call lurking behind shrubbery?” He stepped closer, watching her carefully as if he thought she might try to flip him again.
She retreated, the soft, white sand sifting into her canvas sneakers. God, she loathed sand in her shoes! “I wasn’t lurking.”
“Well, pray tell, what were you doing then?”
Checking you out because my biological clock has hit warp speed and I want you to father my baby. Seemed a little early for that. She raised her head, stared into his gray eyes and lied brazenly.
“Bird-watching.”
He raised a sardonic dark brow, his short laugh reflecting skepticism rather than amusement. “Bird-watching?”
Probably not the best lie she’d ever come up with, but she actually didn’t lie often. She’d have to practice when she got back home.
Andrew gently but firmly took her arm. A shiver of awareness raced along Kat’s nerve endings. Andrew Winthrop’s touch wasn’t nearly as cool as his eyes and his voice.
“I’m very interested in hearing more about your bird-watching.” He steered her back toward the cottage. “Especially since you watched for birds at my office yesterday, as well.”
Uh-oh. He’d spotted her yesterday. Had he seen her follow him today? She narrowed her eyes. “If you knew I was out here, why’d you parade around without your clothes?”