Holding the Dream Page 0,92

the kind of warped sense of humor that might make her appreciate having my lover call her a tramp." He watched the embarrassed blush stain Kate's cheek. "Want that beer now?"

"No." Voice strained, pride forfeited, she got to her feet. "I apologize. I don't normally jump to conclusions. It's been a difficult and emotional day."

"Uh-huh."

Damn him. "I was asleep when she called, and she never gave me a chance to say anything."

"That's Lottie."

"And I just assumed. I was asleep," she said, furious. "Disoriented. I was - "

"Jealous," he finished and backed her up against the refrigerator. "That's okay. I like it - to a point."

"I don't like it, to any point. I'm sorry I hit you."

"You're going to have to work on those arms if you want to have any impact." He put a hand under her chin to lift it. "You wouldn't have gone for the knives, would you?"

"Of course not." She slanted her gaze toward them, shrugged. "Probably not."

He let his hand drop, took another swig of beer. "Honey, you terrify me."

"I'm sorry, really. There's no excuse for behaving that way. It was knee-jerk." She pressed her hands together. Confession always hurt. "I was involved with someone a couple of years ago. I don't get involved easily, and he wasn't what you could term the faithful type."

"Did you love him?"

"No, but I trusted him."

He nodded, set the beer aside. "And trust is more fragile than love." He cupped her face in his hands. "You can trust me, Kate." He pressed his lips to her brow, then eased back with a grin on his face. "I would never risk having you slice off any important appendages with a chef's knife."

Feeling both soothed and foolish, she settled into his arms. "I would never have used it." Her lips curved against his. "Probably."

Chapter Fifteen

"This is so incredibly dumb." Naked, Kate fidgeted and blew the bangs out of her eyes. "I feel like an idiot."

"Leave your hair alone," Margo ordered. "I worked too hard on it to have you screw it up. And stop gnawing on your lip."

"I hate wearing lipstick. Why won't you let me see my face?" Kate craned her neck, but Margo had draped the mirror in the wardrobe room. "I look like a clown, don't I? You made me look like a clown."

"Actually, it's more like a twenty-dollar hooker, but it's such a nice look for you. Hold still, damn it, so I can get you into this thing."

Suffering mightily, Kate lifted her arms as Margo hooked her into what seemed to be some instrument of medieval torture. "Why are you doing this to me, Margo? I cut the check for your dippy string trio, didn't I? I went along with the truffles - even though they're snuffed out by pigs and hideously expensive."

Her face set like a general leading troops into battle, Margo adjusted the bustier. "You agreed to follow my guidance for your image tonight. The Annual Reception and Charity Auction is Pretenses' most important event. Now stop bitching."

"Stop playing with my tits."

"Oh, but I love them so. There." Margo stepped back, then nodded in satisfaction. "I didn't have much to work with, but..."

"Keep it up, Miss D Cup," Kate grumbled, then looked down and goggled. "Jesus, where did they come from?"

"Amazing, isn't it? In the right harness, those puppies just rise."

"I have breasts." Stunned, Kate patted the swell rising above black satin and lace. "And cleavage."

"It's all a matter of proper positioning and making the most of what we have. Even when it's next to nothing."

"Shut up." Grinning, Kate slicked her hands down her torso. "Look, Ma. I'm a girl."

"You ain't seen nothing yet. Put this on." Margo tossed her a thin swatch of stretchy lace.

Kate studied the garter belt, tugged it, snorted. "You're kidding."

"I'm not putting it on for you." Margo patted the bulge under her sparkling silver tunic. "At seven months and counting, bending over isn't as easy as it used to be."

"I feel like I'm in dress rehearsal for a porn flick." But after a struggle, Kate snapped the garter belt into place. "It's a little hard to breathe."

"Hose," Margo ordered. "You'd better sit down to put them on." With her hands on her hips, Margo supervised the production. "Not so fast, you'll snag. Those aren't your industrial-strength panty hose."

Brows beetled, Kate flicked up a glance. "Do you have to watch me?"

"Yes. Where's Laura?" Margo wondered and began to pace. "She should be here. And if the musicians don't show up