Paul shook his head. “You'd get what you deserved."
And so will you.
Katherine removed a folder from her briefcase. She pulled out a copy of a note she had typed and hand-delivered to Ann Young earlier today.
“What's this?” Paul scanned the contents and his mouth rounded. “I didn't write this shit. What gift are you hoping she'll accept with my love? I never gave that slut anything."
“No, you didn't write it. I did. I sent her the emerald pendant you forced me to accept."
His teeth gnashed. “What have you done, you bitch?"
She smiled grimly and held up her hand. “Oh, there's more. I called your father. Malcolm was surprised anyone knew about his retiring soon. He was particularly interested in your blackmail scheme to take control, the amount of money you exhorted out of me."
Paul shot out of his chair, sending it hurling across the room and clanking into a potted palm. “You did what?! What the hell made you do that?" he bellowed.
“Your father made me promise I'd let him know if you didn't treat me right this time. I kept my promise."
“I'm leaving.” He spun on his heels.
“Not yet,” she yelled after him. “I have one last parting gift for you."
She stomped to the closet and opened the door. Stashed in the corner was a brand new, shiny shovel. The wooden handle was adorned with a bright red bow. Smiling, she presented it to Paul.
“Have at it,” she said.
He stared at the shovel before glaring at her.
Jared stood and moved toward him. “Don't go thinking any nasty thoughts, Paul. Just take the gift from the lady and leave."
He aimed one furious, impotent look at her, but when Jared continued to move across the room he snatched the shovel from her and raced out.
The moment the door shut, strong, caring hands reached for her. “Jared,” she whispered as his arms enfolded her. “What he said was a lie. William-"
He placed a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don't dignify Paul's ravings. That ex of yours makes me want to apologize for the whole male species. My tongue's almost bit clear through from holding it."
He lifted her chin and his warm blue eyes gazed into hers. “You should be proud of yourself. The way you stood up to him."
Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes and streaked down her face. She hiccupped. “You're proud of me?"
“Very much so.” His hands ghosted like a healing balm across her cheeks and wiped at the tears. “Don't cry, Katherine. He isn't worth it. He won't be back. You're free. Matt's free. Let's celebrate you letting go of the past forever."
She cuddled in his arms, feeling warm and safe. “Only if you feed me dinner at your ranch in Katy, and you do the cooking."
He rubbed her back, kneading the knots in her shoulders.
“Oh, that feels soooo good,” she murmured, squeezing him around the waist.
His hands stilled. “You want to go to the ranch again? Just you and me?” He shook his head. “Uh, Katherine, I don't think that's such a good idea."
She glanced up at him. “What's the matter, friend? Can't you cook?” she teased.
He tweaked her nose. “Okay, smarty pants, I'll show you. It's a deal.” He kissed the top of her head.
His hands squeezed her back and began kneading her muscles again. “I'm curious. What was all that business with the shovel?"
She laughed wickedly and glanced at him. “Let's just say, he may have to fight flies off his Porsche."
Jared's eyes lit with mischief. He chuckled. “Woman, remind me never to make you mad."
She glanced at Jared, who stood by the stereo selecting CDs. The muscles in his chest flexed against the cording in his blue shirt, reminding her of the awesome power this gentle man held at his disposal. An old, unnecessary flicker of fear shot through her, reminding her how dangerous it was to be at a man's mercy. Frowning, she pushed it aside, determined not to let anything interfere with her plans for the night. Jared is not Paul, she chanted inwardly. Jared is-good.
The fear disappeared, and she smiled. So, it was that easy? Find a good man and learn a new life? She shook her head ruefully. It was going to be a wonderful night.
The rattle of CD cases drew her mind back to the present. Still smiling, she glanced over. “How long does it take to put a few CDs on to play?"
“Don't rush me, woman. I'm trying to select good ones,” he teased, glancing down at the titles.
“If you hear me snoring, you know you took too long."
“All right, I'm hurrying.” The clatter got faster and a few hit the floor, followed by a, “Blast it."
She smiled.
They had just finished their meal. She kicked off her heels, smoothed her dress, and leaned back, enjoying the smell of wood burning in the fireplace. She felt as if she had returned to heaven as she sank deeper into the leather couch in his den.
“Did you really cook that lobster bisque and grilled swordfish?” she asked with a smile. Her eyes closed.
She heard him chuckle, the sound low and reassuring beside the crackle of wood. “Does it count if my next door neighbor used my stove to cook it?"
She laughed. “You scoundrel. You cheated."
“I had to. You ever had your stomach pumped out?"
She opened her eyes and found his rueful smile waiting. “Okay, I get the picture. Tell your neighbor it was delicious and thanks for saving my life."
“I will or she'll never cook for me again."
She chuckled. “I told you I came bearing gifts,” Katherine said.
A bottle of chilled champagne waited in an ice bucket on the table. Two crystal glasses caught the candlelight and sparkled beside the fondue pot. Sweet chocolate melted to perfection over the flame, ready to coat two baskets of hothouse strawberries. These were her gifts for the evening.
And one other gift.
Maybe?
She had never been sexually bold in her life; but then again, it was far past time she came out of her shell. She glanced at Jared. Would he accept the other gift she would offer tonight?
“I have three more slots. I'm taking requests,” he said.
“Alan Jackson's ‘Don't Close Your Eyes’ is good,” she answered. Would he remember that song had been playing when they kissed on this couch? When Matt had stopped them from-"
“Uh, Katherine, I think that one's scratched. Anything else you want to hear?"
Liar! He remembered.
“Ronnie Milsap. You can't go wrong with anything he sings. How about, ‘Why Don't You Spend The Night',” she said seductively. “Or is that scratched, too?"
Their gazes locked.
“Somehow, I don't think we're talking about CDs.” He fed three discs into the stereo.
“One of us was.” She folded her arms across her chest as nice, safe Christmas music played softly in the background.
He strolled over and dropped down beside her, pulled a knee up on the couch and turned to face her. “Last time you were here, you were in a funny mood, too. Must be the place."
“Or the company,” she corrected.
He sighed. “I care too much for you to just hop into bed with you.” He reached and laced his fingers through hers. “We need to talk."
“What about?"
He studied her carefully. “You and me. Where this relationship it heading and why you want to make a sudden move like this-"
Her face heated and she interrupted him. “It isn't sudden. I don't think of you the way I did when we first met. I'm the one who wanted to make love. You're the one who stopped us."
“Because I thought you'd be hurt emotionally. I still believe you'd regret it in the morning."
“I've never had a ‘morning after'. I had a morning after my marriage and I hated that. I've just started to think that maybe your lifestyle is the answer. Have a perfect affair and enjoy the moment."