She leaned forward and flipped to the signature page of the document. “Do you have a pen?”
“Sure.” He rose and crossed to the small rosewood desk that held a telephone and a reading lamp.
“I’m meeting Lindsay for dinner,” Kaitlin explained from behind him. “I don’t want to be too late.”
“I have a date,” he lied, extracting a pen from the small desk drawer. He’d call Dylan and get the number of the pretty helicopter pilot just as soon as Kaitlin left.
“You’re cheating on me?”
Her outburst surprised him, but when he turned, he saw the laughter lurking in her jade-green eyes.
“Yes,” he answered easily, not about to rise to the bait. “I’ve been cheating on you since the wedding.”
“Men,” she huffed in pretend disgust, folding her arms across her chest, accenting her breasts.
Focusing beyond her lovely figure, he shrugged an apology on behalf of his gender as he crossed the room. “What can I say?”
She accepted the pen, bending her head to sign the papers. “Well, I’ve been faithful.”
He waited for the punch line.
It didn’t come.
“Seriously?” he asked.
She finished her signature with a flourish, declining to answer.
But he couldn’t let it go. “You haven’t had sex with anybody since Vegas?”
“What do you mean since Vegas.” She sat up straight, handing the pen back in his direction. “Who do you think I had sex with in Vegas?”
He accepted it, feeling a twinge of remorse. “I didn’t mean it that-”
“The only person I was with in Vegas was you and we didn’t-” The amusement suddenly fled her eyes, replaced by uncertainty. “We, uh, didn’t, did we?”
Okay, this was interesting. “You don’t remember?” He might not have total recall of the entire night’s events. But he knew they hadn’t made love.
Then the vulnerability was back, and she slowly shook her head. “I barely remember the wedding.”
He was tempted to string her along, but quickly changed his mind. The cursed vulnerability again. It made him want to protect her, not mess with her mind.
“We didn’t,” he assured her.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure? Do you remember every minute?”
Their gazes locked for a couple of heartbeats.
“I’d remember that.”
“So, you can’t say for sure…”
“Has this been bothering you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Because it sounds like-”
Suddenly, she snagged her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, coming to her feet. “It’s not bothering me. If we did it, we did it.”
“We didn’t.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Not that he wouldn’t love to. Not that he wasn’t still-
Damn it. He had to stop going there.
“Because I’m not pregnant or anything,” she said, slipping into her sexy shoes and straightening her clingy dress. The action pulled it tighter against her lithe body, and it was more than he could do not to let his gaze take a tour.
He summoned his strength. “Kaitlin. I think we need to leave Vegas back in Vegas.”
“We tried.”
That was true.
“But it didn’t work,” she pointed out.
“Blame Elvis,” he drawled, fixing his gaze firmly on her face and telling himself to leave it right there.
Her smile grew. “You’re funnier than you let on, you know?”
He gritted his teeth against her softening expression, those lips, those eyes, that tousled hair. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
But for the first time in his life, he ignored the powerful urge.
“Thanks for signing the papers,” he offered gruffly.
“Thanks for giving me a job.”
The specter of her previous designs appeared inside his head. He didn’t know what he’d do if she insisted on resurrecting them.
Now might not be the time. Then again, now might be the perfect time. They seemed to have come to a truce. Maybe he should take advantage of it.
“You know that building has been in my family for five generations,” he declared.
“That doesn’t mean it can’t look good.”
“There are a lot of different ways to make it look good.” Classic ways. Functional ways. They were a transportation company, for goodness’ sake, not an art museum.
He wished he could interest her in using the Hugo Rosche plans as a jumping-off point. Hugo had taken over after he’d canceled Hutton Quinn. Zach had paid a penalty to get out of the contract. But Hugo had left on good terms with a reference and several prospective clients set up by Zach. Hugo’s plans made the most of the existing layout, and they’d only take about six months to implement.
“And I’m going to find the best one,” she breezily promised. Her bravado frightened him.
“It’s my heritage you’re playing with, you know.”
Her expression faltered for a split second, something close to pain flitting through her eyes. But she recovered instantly, and the confidence returned. “Then, you’re a very lucky man, Zach Harper. Because I’m going to make your heritage a whole lot better.”
Three
The following week, Kaitlin and Lindsay made their way into the bright pool of sunshine on the roof of the Harper Transportation building. The cement was solid beneath Kaitlin’s feet, and the building seemed to fit seamlessly into its surroundings. Modern high-rises towered over on two sides, while across Liberty, they studied a row of dignified-if chipped-lion statues, and looked farther to the river.
The roof was square, blocked on one side by the service level and staircase. It was bordered by a three-foot-high concrete wall. Years of rain had stained it, but the mottled color evoked a certain nobility. Kaitlin couldn’t help wonder what it would be like to work under the same roof as five generations of your ancestors.
Her mother had died when she was born. Her father was “unknown,” not even a name on a birth certificate. And if nineteen-year-old Yvette Saville had had relatives somewhere nobody ever found them. All Kaitlin had of her own heritage was a single, frayed and blurry photo of her mother, and the address of the rooming house where Yvette had been living prior to Kaitlin’s birth.
While her anger and frustration toward Zach had diminished as the days went by, she couldn’t seem to fight off the spurt of jealousy that bubbled up when she thought about his heritage. He’d had such a safe and privileged upbringing. While she was on the outside looking in, he’d been wrapped in the loving embrace of his wealthy family, wanting for nothing, experiencing the finest life had to offer.
“Explain to me again why we couldn’t go straight to Rundall’s for lunch?” called Lindsay. She’d fallen behind in her higher heels and straight skirt.
“See that?” Kaitlin turned to walk backward, banishing her negative thoughts as she swept her arm, pointing toward the deep blue Hudson River. “If I can get a permit to add three stories, the view will be amazing.”
A steady hum of traffic rose up to meet them, while barges slipped by against the tree-dotted New Jersey shoreline.
“Will that be expensive?” asked Lindsay, as she picked her way across the rough surface, steadying herself against a mechanical box, then an air-conditioning unit.
“Wildly,” said Kaitlin, picturing the expanse of glass and the marble floors.
Lindsay flashed a wide grin as she came abreast of Kaitlin near the edge of the roof. “That’s my girl. Not that Harper will ever notice. The man has more money than God.”
“It would seem,” Kaitlin agreed, thinking back to the fine art and antiques that decorated his huge penthouse apartment.