Tender Triumph Read online

  Pale and heartbroken, Katie had told him never to call her again or try to see her. He did—repeatedly. And just as tenaciously, Katie refused his calls at her office and hung up the phone at home whenever she heard his voice.

  That was five months ago, and only rarely since then had Katie allowed herself the bittersweet luxury of thinking of him, even for a moment. Until three days ago, she had believed she was entirely over him, but when she answered her phone on Wednes­day, the sound of Rob's deep voice had made her whole body tremble: "Katie, don't hang up on me. Everything's changing. I've got to see you, to talk to you."

  He had argued vehemently against Katie's choice of this for a meeting place, but Katie held firm. The Canyon Inn was noisy and public enough to discour­age him from trying to use tender persuasion, if that was his intention, and Karen came here every Fri­day, which meant Katie would have feminine moral support if she needed it.

  The ladies' room was crowded and Katie had to wait in line. She emerged several minutes later, absently digging in her shoulder purse for her car keys as she walked down the hall, then stopped at the crowd blocking her reentry into the bar. Beside her at one of the pay telephones on the wall, a man spoke with a trace of a Spanish accent: "Pardon—could you tell me the address of this place?"

  On the verge of pushing her way into the tightly packed mass of humanity, Katie turned to look at the tall, lithe male who was regarding her with faint impatience while holding the telephone to his ear. "Were you speaking to me?" Katie asked. His face was deeply tanned, his hair vitally thick and as black as his onyx eyes. In a place filled with men who al­ways reminded Katie of IBM salesmen, this man, who was wearing faded Levi's and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms, definitely did not belong. He was too... earthy.

  "I asked," the Spanish-accented voice repeated, "if you could tell me the address of this place. I have had car trouble and am trying to order a towing ve­hicle."

  Katie automatically named the two intersections at the corner of which the Canyon Inn was located, while mentally recoiling from the narrowed black eyes and patrician nose in a foreign, arrogant face. Tall dark foreign-looking men reeking of coarse mas­culinity might appeal to some women, but not to Katherine Connelly.

  "Thank you," he replied, removing his hand from the mouthpiece of the telephone and repeating the names of the streets Katie had given him.

  Turning away, Katie confronted a dark green Izod sweater stretched across the masculine chest that was blocking her way back into the bar area. Eyeball to alligator, she said, "Excuse me, may I get by?" The sweater obligingly moved out of the doorway.

  "Where are you going?" its wearer inquired in a friendly voice. "It's still early."

  Katie raised her deep blue eyes up to his face and saw his smile broaden with frank admiration. "I know, but I have to leave. I turn into a pumpkin at midnight."

  "Your chariot turns into a pumpkin," he correct­ed, grinning. “And your dress turns into rags.''

  "Planned obsolescence and poor workmanship, even in Cinderella's time," Katie sighed in mock dis­gust.

  "Clever girl," he applauded. "Sagittarius, right?"

  "Wrong," Katie said, extracting her keys from the bottom of her purse.

  "Then what is your sign?"

  "Slow Down and Proceed with Caution," she flipped back. "What's yours?"

  He thought for a moment. "Merge," he replied with a meaningful glance that faithfully followed every curve of her graceful figure. Reaching out, he lightly ran his knuckles over the silky sleeve of Katie's dress. "I happen to like intelligent women; I don't feel threatened by them."

  Firmly repressing the impulse to suggest that he try making a pass at Dr. Joyce Brothers, Katie said politely, "I really do have to leave. I'm meeting someone."

  "Lucky guy," he said.

  Katie emerged into the dark, sultry summer night feeling lost and depressed. She paused beneath the canopied entrance, watching with a suddenly pound­ing heart as a familiar white Corvette ran the red light at the corner and turned into the parking lot, screeching to a stop beside her. "I'm sorry I'm late. Get in, Katie. We'll go somewhere and talk.''

  Katie looked at Rob through the open car window and felt a surge of longing so intense that she ached with it. He was still unbearably handsome, but his smile, normally so confident and assured, was now tinged with an endearing uncertainty that wrung her heart and weakened her resolve. "It's late. And I don't have anything to say to you if you're still mar­ried."

  "Katie, we can't talk here like this. Don't give me a hard time about being late. I've had a lousy flight and it was delayed getting into St. Louis. Now, be a good girl and get in the car. I don't have time to waste arguing with you."

  "Why don't you have time?" Katie persisted, "Is your wife expecting you?"

  Rob swore under his breath, then accelerated sharply, swinging the sports car into a shadowy parking space beside the building. He got out of the car and leaned against the door, waiting for Katie to come to him. With the breeze teasing her hair and tugging at the folds of her blue dress, Katie reluctantly approached him in the darkened parking lot.

  "It's been a long time, Katie," he said when she stopped in front of him. "Aren't you going to kiss me hello?"

  "Are you still married?"

  His answer was to snatch her into his arms and kiss her with a combination of fierce hunger and pleading need. He knew her well enough, however, to realize that Katie was only passively accepting his kiss, and by avoiding her question he had told her that he was still married. "Don't be like this," he rasped thickly, his breath warm against her ear. "I've thought of nothing but you for months. Let's get out of here and go to your place.''

  Katie drew an unsteady breath. "No."

  "Katie, I love you, I'm crazy about you. Don't keep holding out on me."

  For the first time, Katie noticed the smell of li­quor on his breath and was unwillingly touched that he had apparently felt the need to bolster his cour­age before seeing her. But she managed to keep her voice firm. "I'm not going to have a sleazy affair with a married man."

  "Before you knew I was married, you didn't find anything 'sleazy' about being with me."

  Now he was going to try cajolery, and Katie couldn't bear it. "Please, please don't do this to me, Rob. I couldn't live with myself if I wrecked another woman's marriage.''

  "The marriage was 'wrecked' long before I met you, honey. I tried to tell you that."

  "Then get a divorce," Katie said desperately.

  Even in the darkness, Katie could see the bitter irony that twisted his smile. "Southfields do not divorce. They learn to live separate lives. Ask my father and my grandfather," he said with angry pain. Despite the doors opening and closing as peo­ple drifted in and out of the restaurant, Rob's voice remained at normal pitch, and his hands slid down her back caressing her, then cupping her hips, forc­ing her against his hardened thighs. "That's for you, Katie. Only for you. You won't be wrecking my marriage; it was over long ago."

  Katie couldn't stand any more. The sordidness of the situation made her feel dirty, and she tried to pull away from him. "Let go of me," she hissed. "Either you're a liar, or you're a coward, or both, and—"

  Rob's hands tightened around her arms as she struggled. "I hate you for acting like this!" Katie choked. "Let me go.'"

  "Do as she says," a faintly accented voice spoke from the darkness.

  Rob's head snapped up. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded of the white-shirted figure that materi­alized from the shadows beside the building. Retain­ing his grip on one of Katie's arms, Rob glowered menacingly at the intruder and snapped at Katie, "Do you know him?"

  Katie's voice was hoarse with mortification and anger. "No, but let go of me. I want to leave."

  "You're staying," Rob gritted. Jerking his head toward the other man, he said, "And you're going. Now move, unless you want me to help you on your way."

  The accented voice became extremely courteous, almost frigh