Holding the Dream Page 0,27

he rubbed his thumb over Kate's chin. "Screaming's good, too, and throwing breakables. There was a lot of that in my house."

"There's no point - "

"Venting," he interrupted smoothly. "Purging. There aren't any breakables around here, but you could let out a good scream."

Emotions welling up inside her threatened to choke her. Furiously she jerked her face free of his hand. "I don't need you or anyone to charm me out of a mood. I can handle my own problems just fine. If I need a friend, all I have to do is go up to the house. Up to the house," she repeated as her gaze focused on the towering structure of stone and wood and glass that held everything precious to her.

Covering her face with her hands, she broke.

"That's a girl," he murmured, relieved by the natural flow of tears. "Come here now." He drew her close, stroking her hair, her back. "Get it all out."

She couldn't stop. It didn't matter who he was, his arms were strong, his voice understanding. With her face buried against his chest, she sobbed out the frustration, the grief, the fear, let herself for one liberating moment be coddled.

He rested his cheek on her hair, held her lightly. Lightly because she seemed so small, so fragile. A good grip might shatter those thin bones. Tears soaked through his shirt, cooled from hot to cold on his skin.

"I'm sorry. Damn it." She would have pulled away, but he continued to hold her. Humiliated, she squeezed her aching eyes shut. "I never would have done that if you'd left me alone."

"You're better off this way. It's not healthy to hold everything in." Automatically, he kissed the top of her head before easing her back to study her face.

Why it should have charmed him, wet, blotchy, streaked with mascara as it was, he couldn't have said. But he had a terrible urge to shift her onto his lap, to kiss that soft, sad mouth, to stroke her again, not quite so consolingly.

Bad move, he cautioned himself, and wondered how any man faced with such sexy distress could think like a priest.

"Not that you look better." He took the handkerchief she'd balled up in her fist and mopped at her face. "But you should feel better enough to tell me why you're so upset."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"So what?"

She could feel another sob bubbling in her chest and blurted out the words before it could escape. "I got fired."

He continued calmly cleaning and drying her face. "Why?"

"They think - " Her voice hitched. "They think I - "

"Take a breath," he advised, "and say it fast."

"They think I stole money out of client escrow. Embezzled. Seventy-five thousand."

Watching her face, he stuck the ruined linen back in his pocket. "Why?"

"Because - because there are duplicate 1040s, and money missing. And they're my clients."

And my father - my father. But she couldn't say that, not out loud.

In fits and starts she babbled out the gist of her meeting with the partners. A great deal of it was incoherent, details crisscrossing and overlapping, but he continued to nod. And listen.

"I didn't take any money." She let out a long, unsteady breath. "I don't expect you to believe me, but - "

"Of course I believe you."

It was her turn to gather her wits. "Why?"

Leaning back a little, he took out a cigar, shielding the flame on his lighter with a cupped hand. "In my line of work, you get a handle on people quickly. You've been around the hotel business most of your life. You know how it is. There are plenty of times with a guest, or staff, that you have to make a snap judgment. You'd better be accurate." Puffing out smoke, he studied her. "My take on you, Katherine, in the first five minutes, was - well, among other things - that you're the type of woman who would choke on her integrity before she loosened it to breathe."

Her breath came out shaky, but some of the panic eased. "I appreciate it. I think."

"I'd have to say you worked for a bunch of shortsighted idiots."

She sniffled. "They're accountants."

"There you go." He smiled, ran a finger down her cheek when she glared. "A flash there in those big brown eyes. That's better. So, are you going to take it lying down?"

Rising, she straightened her shoulders. "I can't think about how or what I can take now. I only know I wouldn't work at Bittle again if