Welcome To My Family

Slater didn’t know which affected him more, witnessing the demise of the fierce faith she held in her old man, or the realization that he was the last person she’d want to see her crumble.

For some reason, he was moved by her attempt to keep a stiff upper lip. Without a word, he cupped a palm around the back of her head and gently guided her face into the protective curve of his shoulder. For one strained heartbeat, he waited for her backlash. When it didn’t come, Slater began to massage the nape of her neck. Her skin felt soft and cool. Her perfume wafted up and tickled his nose.

Instinct told Kat to resist overtures from a man who belonged to the enemy camp. But darn it all, this had been such a miserable day. So had the whole week, for that matter. She’d give him this much; he had tranquilizing hands. Warm hands…She hadn’t thought anything could chase away her bone-deep chill.

Perhaps her suddenly rapid heartbeat was just a belated reaction to being yanked into Mallory’s attic, Kat told herself. Perhaps it had nothing to with the man…or with her father. She’d embrace any excuse to keep from admitting that the father she’d placed on a pedestal for twenty-six years had just tumbled.

It made her shudder to think about the number of people counting on her to put the pieces back together. Her brothers. Their wives. Most of all, her mother.

Slater felt her tremble. His fingers flexed in her soft curls. Why had he ever thought her hair lacked feminine qualities? Damp, those charcoal locks clung to his palm, reminding him of satin. He murmured something unintelligible near her ear and trailed soothing kisses along the curve of her cheek. “It’ll be all right, kitten.”

Kat pushed him away. Eyes wide, she crawled out of his reach. “Who gave you permission to call me that?” She shook her head and scraped back clinging strands of hair still warm from his touch. Closing her eyes, Kat regretted showing him any chink in her armor.

Slater frowned. Had he called her kitten? Maybe he had. Come to think of it, this was the first time he’d seen those tiger claws sheathed. “Obviously a gross mistake on my part, O’Halloran,” he muttered. “It won’t happen again.” His words were barely audible. He felt restless, ready to leave. He had the answer he’d sought. The smoke from Spud Mallory’s cigars was starting to make him sick. “I’m outta here,” he said, heading for the window.

Kat pulled her knees to her chest and hunched her shoulders, massaging her upper arms. “Go. I’m waiting out the rain.”

He couldn’t just leave her like this. Sighing, Slater leaned toward her and extended a hand. “Come on,” he said, “it’s over.”

Again the music ended. Nat King Cole’s “Black Magic” this time. In the lull, Buzz Moran’s voice rose above the others. “I swear, Louie, you win every pot. With your luck, we should ship you off to Atlantic City with all our remaining cash.”

Slater’s dad laughed. “Good idea. But why don’t we all go? I’m free anytime. It’s you guys who need permission.” Much male posturing followed his statement, with all the others also claiming freedom.

“I can go anytime,” bragged Tim O’Halloran. “I’ll tell Maureen I’m working on the church carnival. In fact, there it is, if anyone needs an excuse.”

“When shall we go?” Louie badgered.

Several dates were bandied about before the music blared again, blocking whatever date they’d selected from the two listening upstairs.

Kat uncoiled from her position near the door. She tendered Slater an I-told-you-so look.

He avoided her eyes. Damn, why hadn’t he left sooner? Before L.J. made a fool of himself. Slater would rather not have known about those wins, to say nothing of the proposed gambling trip. Because it meant he had to find time to deal with that issue now. Time better spent solving the car’s fuel-injection problems. He crossed to stand beneath the peaked roof and tucked both hands in his back pockets. Well, now they were even. But so help him, if she rubbed it in, if she smirked or laughed he’d—

Far from rubbing salt in his wounds, Kat’s gaze suddenly became understanding.

It wasn’t pity. That would have allowed Slater to simply walk away. Damn. He felt again as he had when he was a teenager and his boat had been cut adrift in a storm-tossed river. Hurriedly burying that particular bad memory, he extended his hand to Kat again. “Come on, tiger, I’ll buy you a drink. I think we both need one.”

She shut the trapdoor fully, forgetting it was their only source of light. Kat gasped as the attic was plunged into darkness.

Slater materialized out of nowhere to grip her arm. He intended to lead the way to the window. It wasn’t his fault he picked the arm lacerated by the thorn.

Cringing, Kat cried out involuntarily.

“What’s wrong?” he hissed. But by then Slater’s probing fingers had found the rent in her sleeve. Skimming lightly, he explored the torn flesh beneath.

“Stop it,” Kat breathed, fighting a stab of need that sprang from his touch. “I got in a fight with the tree, okay? Score is hawthorn two, O’Halloran zero.”

Slater chuckled.

“Go ahead, laugh.” She backed away. “And then let’s go before we’re caught.”

Not normally prone to wild mood swings, he took pride in keeping a cool head. Therefore, he couldn’t imagine what craziness provoked him to fracture his own rule about never romantically involving himself with an employee. Shocking them both, he slid his hands through Kathleen’s short curls, tipped her head back and kissed her.

Kat could almost feel the steam rising from her still-damp clothes. A kiss from Kowalski was the last thing she’d expected. Furthermore, she never would have imagined he’d be so good at it.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, flashes of light filled the interior of the room. Thunder boomed and shook the rafters. Kat’s heart leaped and pounded in tempo. It was as if her knees refused to support her, and several seconds went by before she realized Slater had pulled away and said something fairly benign about the ferocity of the storm.

Kat heard him open the window. A sudden gust of wind cooled her hot face. It was precisely what she needed to plunge her back into reality. The return of sanity enabled her to shake off his mind-numbing kiss. Climbing out on the window ledge unaided, she leaped onto a rain-slicked branch.

Kat told herself that she’d known all along it was the storm and not his kiss setting off all those fireworks in the room. But when her knees gave way and she slipped and would have fallen had he not been there, she revised her thinking and gave credit where credit was due. Kowalski kissed like he did everything else—with complete control, but with purpose.

What that purpose might be in this instance evaded her. She just knew he’d better not try anything like that after she got her feet safely on the ground, or Mr. CEO of Flintridge would be picking himself up in the next county.

Slater felt the change in her. He knew it was because of that unexpected kiss. Yet if she’d asked point-blank why he’d done it, he couldn’t have explained to save his life. He hated the fact that he’d broken his own rule. But he’d be damned if he’d apologize.

On the ground, Slater found he didn’t trust himself to talk or to touch her until they were both well away from the Mallorys’ property. Once they’d walked some distance he exhaled and placed his hand in what he thought was an impersonal gesture beneath Kathleen’s elbow. He didn’t see her Isuzu, and his car was down the block.

She slapped his hand away. “Hands off, Kowalski, or…”

His grip tightened. “I thought we were going for a drink. You may enjoy hiking in the rain, O’Halloran. I prefer to drive and stay dry.”

Kat hadn’t realized she’d steeled herself for his apology until it didn’t come. And she was at a loss to explain why she felt furious with him for acting so blasе about what had gone on between them upstairs.

“I don’t drink, but if I did, you’d be the last person I’d drink with. I’m going home. To map out a plan to save my pop from sure disaster. I suggest you do the same. Kowalskis may be able to afford an attempt to break the bank in Atlantic City. O’Hallorans can’t.” Leaving him standing in the rain, Kat crossed the street and started jogging in the opposite direction, in spite of the fact that her cold muscles objected.

Slater shivered as rain seeped through his shirt. Where the hell was she going? Hadn’t that father of hers warned her how dangerous it was for a woman to be walking the streets at night? Even in a company town like Flintridge? She’d turned the corner before he realized she meant business. Swearing, he dashed to his car and promptly made a U-turn to go find her.

Pulling alongside Kat midway down the block, Slater rolled down his window. “Enough, O’Halloran. I propose a truce. I don’t want it on my conscience if you get pneumonia, or worse, if you get murdered.”

“Murdered? By whom? I know almost everyone who lives on the Hill.” Kat forced a laugh. Laughing proved to be a mistake. It broke her stride, and the muscles in her right calf seized. She fell instantly to her knees.

Slater was out of his car in a flash. “What happened? Did you trip? I swear, you are the most accident-prone female I’ve ever met.”

That did it! Kat struggled to stand. Only, her leg refused to cooperate. All she could do was fight back angry tears when he picked her up and carried her to his car. She found her voice after he’d stripped off her sneaker and started massaging her foot. “Don’t. It…it’s a charley horse in my calf. Give me a minute. It’ll ease on its own.”

“Where’s your house? I’ll drive you there.”

“My Trooper’s at the grocery store.” Then as pain shot up her leg, she grudgingly relented. “I suppose you could give me a lift there.”

Slater had a sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, but curbed it as they passed beneath a street lamp and he saw she was still hurting. Not only that, the welt on her cheek looked red and angry. “I’ll follow you home. You can invite me in for coffee,” he ordered. Then his voice grew gentle, “I’ll tend the scrapes left by that tree.”

Kat caught sight of the clock in his dashboard. “No, you can’t come in,” she said, urgently shaking her head. “It’s nearly ten.”

He smiled. “Do you turn into a pumpkin at ten?”

That brought the first break in tension since their kiss. Kat’s lips curved upward. “My mother’s due home at ten. She hasn’t the foggiest idea I’m out playing Sherlock Holmes. Give me a rain check on the coffee, please?”

Before Slater could say it always rained when she was around, she directed him into the parking lot at the grocery store.