Finally, he’d asked her the one-million-dollar question: the hell difference does it make?”
And the answer to that question was, Kate admitted miserably—no difference. Every adult male had some sort of useful emotional barricades. Sometimes, they let them down for a woman they cared deeply for, but never did they let them down simply because a woman they scarcely knew wanted tomake them do it—and do it immediately!
Swallowing back tears, Kate stepped off the terrace where she’d laughed and joked and danced with him . . . and been melted by one unforgettable kiss. Lifting her hand, she rubbed the aching muscles at her nape, then dropped her hand to her side. Less than half an hour ago, she remembered poignantly, his long fingers had been at her nape, shoved into her hair, his mouth hungrily on hers.
The music had ended when he left, she realized as she wandered aimlessly toward the beach. The night had died when he left.
She thought about the way he’d turned back when he was walking away, as if the act of taking his keys out of his pocket had suddenly reminded him of another act he needed to perform . . . made the right choice,” he’d told her with a brief smile; and for the first time, Kate finally understood his seemingly odd behavior: He was politely assuming all the blame for the failure of the evening—like a perfect gentleman. His manners weren’t merely excellent, Kate realized, they were impeccable. Whether he was being doused with an ice-cold drink or sent away with unfulfilled sexual expectations, he lost neither his temper nor his composure.
She paused, trying to link that vaguely familiar behavior with something she knew, and then she remembered what it was: Supposedly, the British upper class behaved as if they were impervious to chaos. Any outward display of temperamental frustration was regarded as a sign of bad breeding. Evidently, Mitchell had somehow acquired the manners of the British upper class.
She would never be sure if she was right about that. Because of her own cowardice and her infatuated eagerness to know everything about him, she’d spoiled her chance to discover anything about him at all.
Knowing that made her feel so miserable that it was almost a consolation to think he hadn’t really given a damn about her. At least she couldn’t blame herself for spoiling chances she’d never have had with him.
Chapter Eleven
LISTLESSLY,KATE WANDEREDto the edge of the garden. Immersed in regret and helpless yearning, she watched the shimmering surf spill onto the sand and then chase itself back into the moonlit sea.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice soft footsteps in the grass behind her until a shadow moved directly across her line of vision. She froze, afraid that if she glanced around, she’d discover it was only a hotel guest going for a late stroll on the beach. A breathless moment later, her dread exploded into a burst of elation when Mitchell put his hands on her waist and moved so close behind her that his shirt brushed her back and arms. For several moments, all Kate heard was the pounding of her heart and the restless rustling of palm fronds overhead. And then he said solemnly, brother’s name was William.”
His use of the past tense told Kate that his brother was dead, and she dropped her head in shamed remorse for forcing him to talk about it.
As if to reassure her, he said, barely knew each other. We had the same father but different mothers. I grew up in Europe and Bill grew up in the States with his father’s family.”
’m so sorry for asking,” Kate whispered, thank you for telling me.”
He slid his hands soothingly up and down her arms, and when he spoke again, he hesitated between each sentence as if he found it difficult to articulate what he was trying to tell her. “Neither of us knew the other one existed until a few months ago when he discovered by accident that he had a brother. He traced me to my address in London and sent me a letter explaining who he was. The next week, he telephoned several times. The week after that, he packed up his wife and teenage son, and the three of them arrived, unannounced, on my doorstep.”
Warning flags went up in Kate’s mind about his father’s apparent lack of any role in this reunion, but the last thing she wanted to do was pry further. Instead, she seized on the most uplifting part of his story and smiled as she turned around to face him and made her comment: brother was a good strategist.”
do you say that?”
, by bringing his wife and son, he demonstrated that his family was in complete accord with his desire to know you.”
, he brought his wife and son in order to make it more difficult for me to throw him out.”
would he have expected you might do something like that?”
because I hadn’t answered his letter or accepted his phone calls,” he said drily.
hadn’t?”
,” he said, but his expression had softened enough to make Kate hazard a guess: you got to know him, you liked him, didn’t you?”
He looked away from her before he answered and stared over her head at the sea. ,” he said, and after several seconds, he added in a low voice, liked him very much.”
Tears stung the back of Kate’s eyes at the wealth of concealed emotion in that last sentence.
He tipped his chin down and looked at her. else would you like to know?”
The only thing Kate wanted to know now was how to extricate them both from this painfully serious topic. Despite her earlier belief that she was utterly insignificant to him, the truth was that he’d come back here to tell her whatever she wanted to know. He’d actually come back. That was all that mattered. After a moment’s thought, she came up with a playful way to answer his last question and hopefully transform their mood. Trying to look extremely solemn, she said, is only one more question I really need an answer to—it’s very personal, but it’s extremely important to me to know the answer.” His brows lifted inquiringly, but his expression was so wary and unenthusiastic that Kate laughed and asked the important” question: many languagesdo you speak?”
His startled chuckle transformed into a lazy, sensual smile as he pretended to seriously contemplate his answer. ’m not certain,” he said, shifting his hand down her spine and drawing her closer. ’ll name them for you and you can count them.” His gaze fixed on her mouth, and he bent his head. ’m fluent in Italian—” His warm mouth touched hers and slid languorously from corner to corner and back again in a long, slow exploration of the shape and texture of her lips that twisted Kate into knots.
Spanish—” He deepened the kiss, his mouth stroking hers insistently, his arms tightening. His tongue slid across the seam between her lips, and Kate’s pulse rate soared.