THIS WAS NOT going well at all.
Kat supposed she should scold Toto, but it really wasn’t his fault. Excitement and incontinence went hand in hand for poor Toto. Instead, she absently scratched him behind his ears while he burrowed into her shoulder. She’d hand it to Andrew-he’d handled the mishap with surprising grace.
She glanced toward the bedroom door where he’d disappeared to change clothes and heaved a sigh of relief. So far Andrew Winthrop was turning out to be exactly what he seemed, exactly what she needed: a stuffy, albeit attractive, lawyer with a degree from Harvard, a ton of money in the bank and a pressing need for a wife. She could offer him a temporary version of wedded bliss and he could give her the baby she so wanted.
Andrew padded back into the room, having replaced his sweatpants with a pair of worn but creased blue jeans. He still wore the faded Harvard T-shirt.
Kat bent and put Toto on the floor. Andrew eyed the little dog warily. “Once, right? He only does that once?”
Toto ran over to snuffle Andrew’s feet. “Usually…” Kat couldn’t resist teasing a bit. “Although he might make an exception in your case.”
Sardonic humor glinted in the depths of his eyes. “Only if I’m lucky.”
With one last sniff, Toto trotted off to discover parts unknown in the beach house.
Kat offered Andrew a friendly smile, which wasn’t a hardship, because she was overall a friendly type. It also seemed like a good lead-in to her proposal.
“Nice place you’ve got here. Cozy.” Actually she’d been here once last summer with Bitsy and her daughter. Bitsy’s husband, Eddie, also a lawyer, and Andrew had been out of town at a conference.
“I’m so relieved you like it. Now, why don’t we discuss your bird-watching?”
His voice might be pleasant and relaxed, but determination was written on his face with a bold marker. It was there in the hard line of his lips, the thrust of his chin.
Kat felt like a bug pinned to a board by Andrew’s piercing eyes. His suggestion hung between them, demanding an explanation. Kat’s stomach chose that moment to protest loud and clear. She glanced at him reprimandingly. “I’m hungry. You spilled my lunch earlier.”
Andrew stared at her as if he thought she was indeed a bug. “You call M &M’s lunch?”
“They had peanuts in them. That’s a protein source.” Really, all that money for a Harvard degree. You’d think he’d know his food groups.
“Shy little thing, aren’t you?”
“You know some people wouldn’t believe it, but I really am shy.” And nervous as hell. Her entire future hinged on this. Her baby hung in the balance. Her last-ditch effort at motherhood stood sexily before her.
His brows shot up to his elegant hairline. “Count me in as a nonbeliever in the shy business.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop.
Kat stared at his hands. His fingers were long and blunt, his hands broad. She swallowed hard. Now was a bad time to develop a hand fetish. Actually, a fetish in any way, shape or form that concerned this man was not allowed.
She braced her hands on the countertop and hoisted herself up, which put her at eye level with Andrew.
“Could I have a glass of milk?” she requested from her perch.
“You’re a strange woman.” Andrew pulled out a gallon of milk.
Ha! I’m a strange woman? Kat had seen his sleek, plastic girlfriend and, excepting Bitsy, had a fair idea of the type of women who inhabited his world. After all, she’d lived in a similar world for her first twenty-four years. “Considering the women you probably know, I’ll take strange as a compliment.”
Andrew closed the refrigerator and studied Kat Devereaux. He wasn’t trying to insult her, it was simply what had come to mind. He’d never met a woman like her. He was used to sophisticated women who employed every available means to enhance their beauty, be it spa or salon or a discreet visit to a prominent Palm Beach plastic surgeon. Women who cooed and simpered and sought to impress.
God and Madame Mimi’s Spa knew that was modus operandi for his mother.
Kat Devereaux sat on his kitchen counter with her face devoid of makeup and her hair standing on end, and she certainly didn’t seem to care if she impressed him. Oddly enough, she did. She was pushy, opinionated, physically assertive and sexy as hell. Maybe it was a compliment, all things considered. Strange, intriguing, different, whatever she was, she had managed to divert his attention from the matter at hand. Regardless of how cute her nose was with its sprinkling of freckles or how shapely her legs were swinging from his countertop, he wanted some answers!
He topped off a glass with milk and presented it to her. “Here’s your milk. Now tell me why you’ve been playing Mata Hari with me.”
Whatever, or whoever, Kat Devereaux was, she wasn’t much of a liar. At least not a good one. Bird-watching! She’d be terrible at poker. Far too transparent. Even right now, he could almost see the wheels turning.
She stalled by drinking her milk. All of it. Without stopping.
Andrew folded his arms and waited expectantly-he had plenty of time. Kat placed the glass on the counter and smiled at him winningly, her blue eyes widening. A milk mustache ruined the effect. Andrew bit back a smile.
“So, you’re definitely not buying bird-watching, huh?”
Her sheer temerity arrested him. He gave in to the smile. “No. I don’t buy bird-watching.”
Kat abandoned her perch to pace the kitchen floor. “Okay-”
The front door slammed, interrupting her explanation.
“Yoo-hoo…Andrew, where are you?” Andrew recognized his sister’s singsong tone. He’d never get to the bottom of this. His frustration vented itself in sarcasm. “Come on in. Make yourself at home. We’re out here in the kitchen.”
Bitsy waltzed through the swinging door, barely spared him a glance and beelined over to Kat. “I spotted Carlotta out front. Have you talked to him yet?”
He glanced from one woman to the other. This was getting stranger by the minute. “Bitsy? Kat? You know each other?”
Bitsy remained next to Kat but turned to face Andrew and giggled. “Kat works at the school where I volunteer. She’s a dear friend.”
Red alert! That was not comforting news. His sister meant well, but trouble seemed to follow her like the wake behind a boat. He still marveled that they shared the same gene pool. Why was he not too shocked to find her involved in this wackiness? “Why don’t you two explain what the hell is going on?”
“Well, big brother-”
Kat threw up her hand to stop Bitsy. “Wait, Bitsy. We were just about to have this discussion when you arrived. Let me explain.”
Andrew was fast running out of patience. If one of them didn’t tell him something soon, he’d throttle both of them.
Bitsy glided over to a kitchen chair and plopped down. “Just pretend I’m not even here.”
“You could leave,” he suggested.
“Oh, no. I’ll be fine. I promise, you won’t even know I’m here.”
Kat offered him a sunny but nervous smile. “I’m not quite sure where to begin.”
“How about the beginning?”
“Well, there isn’t really a beginning. I guess if you wanted a beginning it would be a couple of years ago when I turned thirty-”
Andrew cut her off. He didn’t want her life story. “Forget the beginning. Just try spitting it out somewhere around the middle.”
Kat narrowed her eyes at him. She obviously didn’t appreciate being rushed.
“Bottom line? I need a husband. You need a wife. Let’s get married.” She crossed her arms across her breasts. “There, was that brief enough for you?”
Andrew prided himself on his ability to maintain a poker face and this was no exception. However, he mentally gaped. Unless he was mistaken, a veritable stranger had just proposed marriage. What a preposterous idea!
Bitsy snickered from the corner of the room.