Her Wall Street Journal reality check earlier had served its purpose. Andrew had shown such insight in presenting her with the simple yet exquisite opal-and-sapphire ring instead of the cold elegance of diamonds, it unnerved her. She absolutely did not want emotional attachments or compatibility with this man. Ye gods, she’d almost crowed with relief at the news he was an on-line subscriber. She was safe. And one step closer to getting her baby.
Now she just needed to verify they were physically compatible.
They stopped next to the gray sedan and Andrew opened the passenger door for her. Kat slid onto the cool smoothness of the leather seat. She knew she enjoyed looking at him-especially the rear view-and his touch elicited a tingling awareness, but she had to know how they would both respond to the intimacy of a kiss. Better to know now than after they’d married.
Andrew slipped into the driver’s seat, breaking her contemplation of their compatibility. He casually tossed his suit coat into the back seat before he turned a CD player on and the low, plaintive wail of a saxophone wove itself around them.
“I figured you for a Beethoven or Mozart kind of man.” Surely it was the intimacy of the music and confines of the car that lent her voice that husky quality, not anticipation.
Andrew reached across the distance separating them. “No Beethoven. No Mozart.” He traced the line of her brow, his touch featherlight but sure. She shivered from his heat against her cool skin. “Does that repulse you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Good.”
Kat tucked one leg beneath her and shifted closer, trailing her fingers over the hard line of his jaw, savoring the slight rasp of his beard against her. She felt the pulse beneath her fingertips race. Was it hers or his? Perhaps both. She wasn’t sure. “How’s that?”
“Fine, just fine.”
He stroked the sensitive softness behind her ears, easing his hands into her hair, drawing her closer. Kat quivered as a slow, languorous heat stole through her. Darkness shadowed his face, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand told its own story.
She loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt, her fingers shaking as she came into contact with the heated satin of his chest. Andrew sucked in a harsh breath and she heaved a sigh, finally remembering to breathe. As a prelude to a kiss, this was a doozy.
Impatient, Kat hooked her finger above the knot of his dangling tie and tugged him to within a fraction of her mouth. His ragged breath mingled with her own. “Are you ready for this? What do you think?” she said, her voice raspy.
His hand wandered to caress the nape of her neck. She arched ever so slightly, grazing the tips of her breasts against the hard planes of his shirt-covered chest.
“I think you talk entirely too much,” he muttered against her lips before claiming them with his own.
There was nothing tentative about his kiss and Kat responded with equal forthrightness. She lost herself in a whirling kaleidoscope of sensation. The taste of red wine and garlic mingled with passion. The rumpled silk of his hair as she ran her fingers through it. His branding touch that stroked up her calf to her thigh.
Somehow, during the course of the kiss, Kat wound up in Andrew’s lap, wedged between the hard wall of his chest and the unyielding steering wheel. Her arms draped around his neck and his hand kneaded her buttock at the edge of her panties. Without removing his mouth from hers, he murmured, “Does it feel like I’m repulsed?”
Snuggled in his lap, she had ample evidence to the contrary. “No. I’d say definitely not repulsed.”
Kat was nibbling at his lower lip when a sharp rap on the passenger window startled them both into looking up. She sat in stunned confusion as a flash blinded her. Footsteps pounded away.
Andrew abruptly shifted her back onto her side of the car and raked a hand through his hair. Without uttering a word, he radiated tension.
“What the heck was that?” Kat asked, although she had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.
“That, Ms. Devereaux, is an overzealous photographer for the local paper. You and I will make tomorrow morning’s news. Leave your phone off the hook and, since both our families read the paper, I suggest we find a nice, discreet justice of the peace tomorrow.”
Kat tugged her skirt down as Andrew confirmed her suspicion. That promised to be one provocative photograph. She knew all about the press. She shuddered as she remembered how they’d ravaged her like a pack of vultures when Nick had skipped out with his embezzled millions. But what was newsworthy about Andrew Winthrop and herself? “Why would they want a photo of us?”
“It’s that damn eligible bachelor deal.” Andrew massaged his temple. “It brought out matchmaking mothers and one hounding photographer.”
Oh yeah. She’d sort of forgotten about his prime catch status. One day she wanted to hear more about those matchmaking mamas, but right now she needed to concentrate on the photo disaster. “No self-respecting paper will turn that shot down. Well, maybe the Wall Street Journal would.”
Andrew grunted a harsh laugh.
Kat gathered her sensually scattered wits. Andrew was right. They’d planned to present their marriage as a fait accompli. Also, if they were married it would take the impact out of the photograph. Kat was very much aware she was marrying a conservative man so he could gain a partnership in his extremely conservative, family law practice. Not to mention the school board and her students’ parents were likely to take a dim view of a photograph of her sprawled in Andrew’s lap. She didn’t think they’d find it much of an example for the students.
She’d never considered that his recent designation as one of Florida’s most eligible bachelors had elevated him to local celebrity status. Thanks to Nick, Kat was well versed in damage control. “Meet me at your house tomorrow morning at eleven. You bring a justice of the peace, Eddie and Bitsy. I’ll bring Jackson. Surely they can have our contracts ready by then if we call them tonight.”
“Tomorrow then. Eleven o’clock.”
Kat jumped out of the car and slammed the door. She didn’t have time to sit around tingling from a kiss-make that a helluva kiss.
She had a wedding to go to tomorrow.
Her own.
3
ANDREW SWUNG OPEN his front door and found Edward and Bitsy regarding him with sly amusement. Edward held up a folded section of newspaper to Andrew’s face and cocked his head, comparing the two. “What do you think, Bitsy? The chin and the nose are the same, but I don’t know about that hair standing on end and the unbuttoned shirt…” Edward trailed off.
Bitsy laid a speculative finger against her nose. “I don’t know where he could’ve come up with a body double on such short notice, so I suppose it is my darling, straitlaced brother.”
Andrew glared at the smirking couple before him-to think they wondered why their child displayed a penchant for mischief.
Edward regarded the photo in mock wonder. “Eight years I’ve known you, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you even slightly disheveled.”
Between the expanse of Kat’s shapely legs and his shirt gaping open, disheveled was an understatement.
“Yeah, Eddie?” Andrew deliberately used the nickname. “Well, you’ve never seen me get married, either, so consider it a week of firsts. Now if you two have finished the Laurel and Hardy routine, perhaps you’d like to come in.”
Andrew had seen the photo as soon as his paper was delivered. He’d spent the morning trying not to think about the reaction of his well-heeled clients-or the sleek line of his future wife’s legs, the feel of her firm buttocks pressed against his lap.
Bitsy and Eddie moved past him, into the den. “So what kind of ring was Kat wearing?” Bitsy quizzed.