“Good answer.” Jackson reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a cigar and clamped it between his teeth.
“Don’t even think of lighting up that thing,” she warned as she fished a garlic roll out of the basket.
“I’m not, but it couldn’t possibly smell any worse than that.” He defiantly waved his cigar at the bread.
Kat broke off a small piece and launched into the question she’d avoided asking since Jackson’s arrival. “So, is the contract in order? Everything’s clear? You spelled out all the stipulations?”
Jackson didn’t blink. “Yes, yes and yes. But I still think-”
“Jackie, I know what you think. But if everything’s in order, I plan to marry Andrew Martin Winthrop III.”
She looked forward to seeing him tonight. She needed a blast of arctic ice from those cold gray eyes. It had been far too easy to forget his aloofness and lose herself in his voice over the phone. His voice brought to mind a good bourbon. Potent. Heady.
As if conjured up by her thoughts, that voice interrupted her reverie. “Good evening, Kat.”
She glanced up with a start. Edward Sommers and Andrew were standing beside the table.
Her gaze riveted on Andrew. Good Lord, if he wasn’t a total package. Coal black hair cut precisely and brushed back from a face saved from being pretty by a slightly crooked nose and a harsh mouth. And summa cum laude from Harvard. Fabulous genetic material. She buried a sigh. It was a good thing she didn’t go for his type. Otherwise she
Kat rose from her seat and Eddie enveloped her in a bear hug. “Welcome to the family.” Edward spoke low in her ear.
Kat laughed at his forwardness. “Good to see you again, Eddie.”
She shifted to face Andrew. She could hardly hug his lawyer and then shake her fiance’s hand, could she?
Kat stood on tiptoe and twined her arms around Andrew’s neck. He stiffened beneath her hands when she bussed his cheek. He was all hard, masculine angles. If she thought he sounded and looked good, he felt and smelled even better.
Kat withdrew from him and sank into her chair, glad of the support it offered, while the men indulged in a flurry of handshaking.
“Andrew, Eddie, this is Jackson Hamilton, my attorney and brother.” She sent Jackson a teasing glance, determined to lighten the atmosphere. “Our mother had a fixation with dead presidents when he was born.”
Edward interrupted her introductions with a friendly nod. “It’s okay, Kat. We’ve all met in the courtroom before.”
“And I take it Katrina Anastasia was your mother’s Russian nobility phase?” Andrew drawled.
Clever. Very clever. Kat snickered her appreciation of his parallel witticism, relieved to discover Andrew possessed a sense of humor. Next to her, Jackson nodded his approval.
“Thank God, someone’s finally paid you back for that dead president joke.”
ANDREW WATCHED Kat Devereaux walk back to the table. She’d excused herself to go to the bathroom when Jackson and Edward had left with minor contract changes. There was nothing provocative about either her walk or her manner but she exuded an unselfconscious sensuality. He also watched their doe-eyed waiter mooning over her.
She slid into the seat next to him and treated him to a warm smile. “Ready to eat?”
“That’s fine.” Andrew noted their smitten waiter hovering in the background. “I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to order posthaste.” No sooner had Andrew spoken than the waiter approached the table. Andrew indulged in a scowl. Regardless of the underlying reasons, Kat was his fiance. Almost.
“We’re ready for our salads now.” She bestowed an equally warm smile on their waiter, who hurried off at her bidding.
“We don’t order because there’s no menu. Mama Leone serves whatever she’s in the mood to cook. But I can promise you, it’ll be the best Italian food you ever tasted.” Kat waved a hand at the humble furnishings. “And I didn’t think you’d run into anyone you knew here.”
“That’s fine.” He hadn’t come for the gastronomic experience. He reached into his jacket pocket. There was no way he would have given her this with Jackson and Edward watching, but he’d rather get it over with before dinner arrived.
He slapped a sealed envelope on the table and stared past her at a charcoal drawing of a fishing village. It tilted crookedly on the wall.
She ripped into the envelope. “Oh, my. According to this, your sperm count is above average.”
He retrieved the single sheet of paper and tucked it back into his pocket. “So they said.”
Kat shifted toward him, her indigo eyes alight with avid curiosity. “I’ve always wanted to know, did you have to…”
Andrew cupped her pointed chin in his hand and leaned in close. “We are not going to have this conversation. Not here and now. Not later. You’ll have to find someone else to quiz for details or continue to wonder.” It had been damned humiliating. They’d put him in a room with a little cup and… It was the closest he’d come to calling the whole charade off.
Kat’s full bottom lip puckered into a pout. On any other woman it would have been a studied ploy of seduction. A move calculated to drive him to acquiesce to her request. On Kat it was pure and simple sulking. And tenfold as enticing. “But I just wanted-”
Andrew slid his thumb to rest against her lips. “Shh. Let’s talk about something else.” He sure as hell hoped she came up with another topic of conversation, because all he could think about was the lush fullness of those lips against him. He released her and leaned back in his chair, only to notice her hand tremble as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
Romeo arrived bearing salads. He situated Kat’s before her with a flourish and a murmured,
“Thanks, Umberto.”
Umberto, not Romeo. Romeo seemed more appropriate. He placed Andrew’s salad before him with much less pomp.
Kat broke the tension-laden silence. “I have my own medical evaluation if you want to see it. And you had enough time to check me out?”
“It’s not necessary for me to see your evaluation. And yes, I’ve had plenty of time to check you out. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” Plenty of time to ascertain through his P.I.’s report that she was an elementary art teacher, immensely popular with students, parents and faculty alike. She shared a similar background with him. She lived fairly modestly except for what appeared to be a proclivity for the shoe department at Dillard’s.
“Right. Have you told Claudette yet?”
“No. And I’m not going to until after the fact. Claudette…I mean, Claudia…would go straight to my father. She knows he expects me to marry her.” For some annoying but inexplicable reason Andrew felt compelled to justify his relationship with Claudia to Kat. “Claudia doesn’t care a whit about me, but she isn’t going to take it well when she finds out I married you instead of her. Missed opportunity and such. That’s why we should get married quietly in the next week or so and then tell everyone.”
“I think we can count on several people ‘not taking it well.”’
Andrew stared in fascination as she nibbled a cherry tomato. He swallowed hard and reached into his pocket. “I believe you’re right about that.”
He grasped the small velvet box. Perhaps she’d put down the damned tomato. He slid the jeweler’s case onto the table next to her salad.
Kat’s knife clanged against her plate. She eyed the box suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“It’s a bomb,” he answered with a hint of sarcasm.
“What?”
“What does it look like? It’s a ring.”
“But I don’t want a ring. At least not an engagement ring. A
She was far too transparent for her own good. With her emphasis on “plain,” she might as well have come out and said she thought he’d give her something ostentatious.
“As my wife, people will expect you to wear something other than a plain gold band.” He nudged the box
