Holding the Dream Page 0,97

"There you are." She beamed at him. "I thought you must have gotten stuck in L.A. You didn't have to - " She stopped because he was staring at her as if he'd had a lobotomy on the trip home. "What is it?"

He managed to close his mouth, get his lungs working again. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Katherine Powell?"

"Boy, a guy doesn't see you for a few hours, and - oh!" Her face lit up and she tried a sophisticated turn. "I forgot. Margo did it. What do you think?"

He turned first to Margo. "God bless you," he said fervently, then took Kate's hand. "What do I think? I think my heart stopped." He kissed her fingers, then, wanting more, her mouth.

"Wow." A little surprised by the dizzying depth of the kiss, she took a cautious step back. "Look what a little goop on the face and a push-up bra gets you."

His gaze shifted down. "Is that what's under there?"

"You're not going to believe what's under here."

"How long is it going to take for me to find out?"

Amused by his reaction, she toyed with his tie. "Well, big guy, if you play your cards right, we can - ''

"Damn." He grabbed her hands. "It's amazing how a sexy woman can shut a man's mind down. I have news for you."

"Fine. If you'd rather discuss current events than my underwear."

"Don't distract me. I've just come from seeing Detective Kusack. It's why I'm so late."

"You went to see him?" The excited flush drained out of her cheeks. "He called you in? I'm sorry, Byron. There's no reason for you to be involved."

"No." He gave her a little shake. "Be quiet. I went to see him because I finally got the report I've been waiting for. I had the documents Marty Bittle gave me sent to a handwriting expert that Josh recommended."

"Handwriting expert? But you never told me. Josh never said anything."

Before her eyes could heat, he hurried on. "We wanted to wait until we had some results. And now we do. They were forgeries, Kate. Copies of your signature."

"Copies." Her hands began to tremble in his. "He can prove it?"

"He's one of the most respected people in his field in the country. But we didn't need him. Kusack had already verified the signatures. He knows they're forgeries. He doesn't consider you a suspect, Kate. Apparently he never really did."

"He believed me."

"He got his expert's report shortly before I got mine. He's going to take the information and his progress report to Bittle in the morning."

"I - can't take it in."

"That's all right." He pressed his lips to her brow. "Take your time."

"You believed me," she said shakily. "From the first day, on the cliffs. You didn't even know me, but you believed me."

"Yes, I did." He kissed her again and smiled. "It must be that nose."

"Whose nose?"

"I'll explain later. Come on, we have to fill Josh in."

"Okay. Byron - " She squeezed his arm. "You went to see Kusack before you came here. Was that what you'd call a white knight sort of thing?''

Sounds like a trick question, he thought. "It could be construed in that manner."

"I thought so. Listen, I wouldn't want you to make it a habit, but thanks." Grateful and touched, she pressed her lips to his. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome." Because he didn't want her eyes swimming, but laughing, he traced a fingertip over her beautifully bared shoulder. "Does that mean I get to see your underwear?"

Chapter Sixteen

Kate had a long-standing concept of what Sunday mornings were for. They were for sleep. Throughout college she had used them for extra study time, or to finish up papers and projects. But once she entered the real world, she designated that time for indulgence.

Byron had a different agenda.

"You've got to resist both ways," he told her. "Mentally isolate the muscle you're working on. Right here." He pressed his fingers to her triceps as she lifted and lowered the five-pound weight, over her head, behind her back. "Don't flop your arm," he ordered. "You're pulling it up and pushing it down through mud."

"Mud. Right." She tried to envision a pool of thick, oozing mud instead of a nice soft bed with cool sheets. "And why am I doing this?"

"Because it's good for you."

"Good for me," she muttered, and watched herself in the mirror. She had thought she would feel ridiculous in the little sports bra and snug bike pants. But it wasn't really