Her Tycoon Lover: On the Tycoon's Terms / Her Tycoon Protector / One Night with the Tycoon

“And if I were to ask you where that was, you’d shut up tighter than the proverbial clam.”

He raked his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Supper. On the balcony. Isn’t that what we came out here for?”

She grabbed a white dish towel from the rack, waving it in front of him. “And the truce—don’t forget the truce.”

He suddenly started to laugh. “You won’t let me.”

Her lips curved in an answering smile. “You’re getting the picture. What kind of chicken did you buy?”

Fifteen minutes later they were seated on teak chairs amidst the tangle of vines and flowering shrubs on the balcony; the bay and the distant hills were topped by a pearl-gray evening sky. Luke filled Katrin’s wineglass with a California Chardonnay. “To better days,” he said.

“I’ll drink to that.” She tore off a chunk of hot garlic bread, licked her fingers and said with a sigh, “I feel much better. Let’s talk about movies and Paris and whether you’re afraid of snakes.”

“It’s spiders that do me in,” he said solemnly, and obligingly asked her what movies she’d seen lately, buried as she was in Askja. One thing led to another, until Luke found himself telling her stories about some of his jaunts into mines ranging from the Arctic to the tropics. Her questions were intelligent, her interest genuine: encouraged, he talked far longer than was his custom, revealing more of himself than he’d intended. Peeling her a ripe peach, he said, “You’re a good listener.”

“I’ve learned more about you in the last hour than since we met.” She licked peach juice from her fingers. “With the exception of when we were in bed.”

His knife skidded dangerously close to the ball of his thumb. “And what did you learn about me there?”

“How closely you guard yourself and your secrets,” Katrin said. “How passionate you can be, when you allow those barriers to drop.”

“Did I have a choice?” Luke heard himself ask; then added in true fury, “I thought we’d set up a truce.”

“Why did you leave in the middle of the night?” she said for the second time, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“You’re as bad as those reporters!”

“No, I’m not—because I care about the answer,” she retorted. “Don’t you see? You give me a glimpse of the real man, and then you run like crazy in the opposite direction…why, Luke?”

He pushed back his chair, his shoulders rigid. “I’m going to put some coffee on…can I get you more wine?”

“You’re doing it again!”

“You have a choice here, Katrin,” he said, each word dropping like a stone. “Take me as I am. Or back off.”

“That’s not a choice. It’s an ultimatum. And you know it.”

“It’s all you’re being offered.”

“No coffee. No wine,” she said, her eyes almost black in the dusk. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

But as she marched around a tall potted cactus, Luke took her by the waist, pulled her toward him and kissed her with an explosive mixture of desire and fury. Before she could respond, he pushed her away. “Sleep well,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the police station in the morning.”

“No, you won’t—I’ll get a cab.”

“You will not.”

“I hate domineering men!”

“I’m just being a good host,” he said smoothly. “Good night, Katrin.”

She whirled, slid open the glass doors and vanished inside the house. Luke drained his wineglass, gazing out over the brilliant lights of the city and the slick, dark waters of the bay. Whether he went to bed with Katrin or not, he was getting in deeper merely by being within ten feet of her.

Why had he invited her here? This house, even though he no longer liked it, was still his sanctuary, where he could drop his public persona and simply be himself. Be as private as he liked. Why hadn’t he listened to Ramon? San Francisco’s a big city, the burly policeman had said…you don’t have to see her.

The mood he was in, the reporters had better keep their distance tomorrow.

When Luke picked Katrin up at the front entrance of the police station late the following afternoon, the reporters were clustered around the side door. She got in quickly, and Luke drove away. She was wearing her lime-green suit without the hat, her hair in a loose knot. She said faintly, “Ramon let the word slip I’d be going out the side door. And they fell for it.”

Luke eased into the flow of traffic. “How did it go?”

“I’m finished. I can go home.”

His palms were suddenly cold on the wheel. He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet. “There’s a big charity ball tonight at one of the hotels on Nob Hill, I’ve had the tickets for a couple of weeks. I think we should go.”

She sat up straight. “Are you out of your mind? The last thing I want to do is go out in public.”

“Ashamed of me, Katrin?”

“Don’t be obtuse! After the spread in today’s papers, you think I should go to a function full of people I met years ago, with a man the media are insinuating is my lover?”

The newspapers had certainly gone to town; the photo of his furious face as he’d tried to shield a beautiful woman in a wide-brimmed hat had made the front pages. No one at his office had mentioned it, they’d known better; but all day there’d been a tendency for silence to fall as soon as he entered a room. Luke said forcibly, “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of. Why should you leave here under a cloud? Blazon it out, that’s the only way to go.”

“You’re nuts.”

“We’re going to Union Square to buy you an evening gown. You can fly home tomorrow.”

“You’re also autocratic, overbearing and tyrannical!”

“I’m a very good dancer as well,” he said, stopping for a red light and smiling at her. “Do you like to dance?”

She scowled at him. “I love to. Add conceited.”

“We can trade insults while the band’s taking its breaks.”

“Have I just been coerced into doing something that I know I shouldn’t?”

He swung around a corner, then sneaked another glance at her. “Yep.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s in this for you, Luke? A new twist? Something to relieve the tedium of your life?”

He said flatly, “I can’t answer that. Because I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, that’s honest at least.”

“Do we have to analyze everything we do?”

“If I’m analyzing, it’s called self-protection,” Katrin said vigorously. “I’m not sure you’re aware of the effect you have just by entering a room. Every woman between puberty and senility stares at you as if you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Regrettably, I have to include myself among them.”