The Trouble with Andrew (16 page)

Perfect.

Tall, well-built, so good-looking. Andrew Cunningham. Hunnicunn Corporation. Affluent, sophisticated, the man with everything. The man she had been sleeping with.

The one she should have sued!

Katie stood up and felt his eyes on her.

She felt her tension grow.

“Thanks, Drew!” Susan said.

She was going to strangle him, Katie thought. He was frowning, staring at her, wondering what was wrong. “Sophie,” she managed to say, “I've got to go check up on something myself. Don't wait for me. Get started. I'm not sure when I'm going to be back.”

She fled out the French doors and walked around the side of the house. She felt on fire, burning with fury, with humiliation.

She crossed the circle and burst in through her front door, leaned against it and stared at the devastation of her house.

“Katie!”

She felt the slam of his fist on the door behind her back and she didn't move.

“Katie, let me in!”

She didn't have any choice. He must have thrown his shoulder against the door because it opened. She spun around, fists clenched at her sides, ready to meet him.

He stepped in, staring at her.

“Katie—”

“You bastard!” she hissed. “You did all this—and then you used me!”

“Katie—”

She didn't know quite what had gotten into her, but she couldn't seem to control herself. It was an awful day. First the tears, and now…

She took a step forward, swinging out a hand that cracked like thunder across his face.

He stood dead still, barely breathing, eyes narrowing as he stared at her. “I didn't use you.”

“I could sue you!”

“Sue me, then, Mrs. Wells. There was nothing done illegally in construction.”

“It was done cheaply!”

“I don't have an explanation and I don't have an excuse. And if you remember correctly, you came into my bedroom that first night.”

“You carried me.”

“After you attacked me in the hallway,” he said smoothly.

“Oh!” she cried. She grabbed for the closest thing she could find to throw.

It was a smashed picture frame.

He ducked as it hurtled his way. He hesitated and Katie found herself breathless, scrambling backward to escape him as he came toward her. Before she knew it, she was in his arms. They were powerfully wound around her, and even as she struggled, he kissed her, furiously, passionately, openmouthed, arousing her against her will even as she struggled to be free. She was losing her breath, losing her will to fight…

His mouth lifted from hers and his eyes blazed down upon her. “I never, never used you!” he said. Then he released her. “Sue me!”

He turned and walked out, leaving her in her devastated living room. Speechless, gasping for breath. Not at all sure of what to do.

The door slammed after him. She paused, trying to still her nerves, trying to think. She had to go back for Jordan. She had to be calm and dignified, and she had to thank Sophie, and she had to eat dinner. Then what? She had her car. She needed to drive away.

She needed a night somewhere to collect herself. To decide if…

If she hated Drew Cunningham or if she was in love with him.

“I do hate you!” she told the door.

Then she bit her lip. She had to go to Sophie's. She didn't want Jordan to realize that anything was wrong.

She threw open the door and saw a silver gray Cadillac driving up to her house.

Her heart sank. Oh, God…

Her father was here. Even as she stood there, Ron Wheeler stepped out of the car, tall, slim, lean, gray-haired, dignified and handsome.

And ready to step right into her life.

“Katie!”

Chapter 8

F
or such a slim, dignified man, he packed a wallop in a hug. Katie was nearly swept off her feet, but then she found herself hugging her father with the same fierce affection. She loved him and she was glad to see him.

And she should have known he couldn't stay away!

He pushed her an arm's length from himself, looking her over. “Well, you seem fine. The house looks as if it's been through a blender, but you look all right, and that's what matters. Where's my grandson?”

“Across the street. We're having a party.”

Her father lifted a gray, arched brow. “A party?”

“Well, my neighbors invested heavily in lobster tails—then lost their freezer. Well, not their freezer, but the electricity.”

She saw Sophie coming out on her porch to look around.

Before the storm, Katie hadn't been able to see Sophie's house from her own. Now, courtesy of Andrew, she had a clear view. She waved, knowing that Sophie was worried about her.

Sophie brightened quickly and started across the street.

Her father frowned at her. “If the party's over there, what are you doing here?”

The last thing she felt like doing was trying to explain any of it to her dad. “I don't know. I must have had a premonition or something that you might be driving up.”

“You never were a good liar, Katie.”

“Shh! Sophie is almost here.”

“There you are, dear! I was starting to get worried,” Sophie said. Katie tried hard to keep smiling.

Did she need to have
everyone
worried about her?

“Sophie, this is my dad, Ron Wheeler. Mrs. Sophie Hampton, Dad. She and her husband, Len, live right across the street.”

Ron shook Sophie's hand. “Very nice to meet you. You're the party people, eh?”

“Yes, and we have plenty, so do, please, come along!” Sophie said. Ron grinned a little wickedly at his daughter. Almost like,
See, I'm invited to your party, too!

Katie made a face at him behind his back. Neither he nor Sophie noticed. “Sounds wonderful. Thank you,” Ron said. “It's been a horrible drive down. Broward County doesn't look great, and right after you pass it, it starts to look as if bombs went off.”

“I haven't braved the roads yet, myself,” Sophie said, “but I hear that driving is just horrible! But you're here, now. Come on over, relax, have something cool—and some of my husband's wonderful lobster.”

“That's very nice. Thank you. Katie?”

“Lobster,” she said cheerfully. The three of them headed across the street, Katie in the rear while Ron and Sophie talked. Ron told Sophie that he'd spent most of his life in South Florida, but had gone up to the Orlando area to act as a consultant for a management firm, and that he'd wound up staying there. By then, they'd reached the house, and when they entered, Sophie had Ron on her arm, bringing him through the house and out the kitchen to the back, where the neighbors had fixed their plates with lobsters, fruit salad and chips.

Within a minute, Sophie had supplied Ron with a beer and was introducing him. “Everyone, this is Katie's dad, Ron Wheeler, down from Orlando. Ron, let's see—there are the Thomasons, there's Mr. Ted Barlow, a great cribbage player, Susan, Seth and Amy Keogh, Midge and Brandon Holloway.” Brandon rose from the picnic table at the end of the patio to shake hands with Ron. When he sat, Katie saw Drew standing just behind him.

“You're Andrew Cunningham,” Ron said, stepping forward, reaching out a hand.

Katie stared at her father, wondering how he could be such a traitor. But Ron didn't seem to notice her. “I saw your picture in that magazine just a couple months ago. It was a great article on the art of building.”

“Thank you,” Drew said.

“Katie's been staying with Drew,” Sophie supplied cheerfully.

“Oh.” Ron said, turning to stare speculatively at his daughter. Katie wondered if he'd heard right—Sophie had said
staying,
not
sleeping.

“Thanks on behalf of my daughter.”

“You don't need to thank him, Dad,” Katie said lightly. “He built my caved-in house. He feels that his is mine at the moment, isn't that right, Mr. Cunningham?”

Drew gazed at her before responding to Ron Wheeler smoothly. “I certainly consider it open to anything Katie needs, sir. Will you be staying with us tonight, as well?”

“No!” Katie said.

“Yes, if you don't mind,” Ron Wheeler told him.

“But you came to get me, Dad—”

“And I thought you were anxious to stay,” Ron said. “I'm assuming you're running around photographing everything in sight. And keeping an eye on your home, too, of course.”

“Gramps!”

Jordan, who had been playing ball with the girls in the grass, realized that his grandfather had come. He came rushing in like a quarterback with the ball and threw himself into his grandfather's arms.

Katie was glad her father was still a strong man and in good health. He cried out happily, lifting Jordan up, swinging around with him.

He set him down and tousled his hair. “You look great, kid. I miss you. I was worried sick.”

“It was scary, Gramps, really scary!” Jordan assured him. “Mom and I almost died—”

“Jordan—”

“But Drew came along and everything has been just fine!” Jordan assured his grandfather.

Ron arched a brow at Katie. “I told you that you should have been up in Orlando with me, young lady. Now as to this bit about the two of you nearly dying—”

“Dad, we're all fine, and everyone's lobster is getting cold,” Katie said. “Len, may I have a plate? They look wonderful. They smell divine.”

“Careful, Katie. They'll put you in the campaign ads for Maine lobster,” Drew said, his tone light, his eyes sharp.

She inhaled deeply. A few minutes later, she found herself seated across from Drew at a picnic table, her father on one side, Sophie on the other, and Jordan and Len on either side of Drew.

She didn't think she'd ever get through the meal. Her father discussed with Drew everything he had seen on television about the building codes, about the way homes should be able to stand up to the wind.

“But steel girders were twisted in some places,” Len said. “If steel can twist…”

“Some things were going to go down no matter what,” Drew said evenly. “Some things didn't have to go down.”

They had Sterno coffee and the no-bake dessert, and though they were in their own private cul-de-sac, there was a curfew on, and the neighbors began to break up and go to their own houses.

Ron Wheeler went to pull his overnight case out of his car, and when he returned, their foursome walked the short distance across the lawns to Drew's house.

“Grandpa can bunk with me,” Jordan supplied as they came in. “It's a great house, Gramps. Want a tour?”

“Don't forget,” Katie reminded her son, “it's Mr. Cunningham's house.”

“Ah, but don't worry. Your mother agrees that I do owe it to her, so Jordan, roam where you will.”

Jordan started up the stairs with his grandfather, and Katie was left staring at Drew at the foot of the stairs. His eyes were level with hers. She doubted her right to be furious.

But he hadn't told her. He'd built her damned house, and even according to him, it shouldn't have gone down. And he'd let all that time go by without saying anything. He'd made love to her…

She started to brush by him. He caught her arm.

“We'll go in the morning,” she told him.

“You do what you have to do,” he told her icily. His fingers eased their hold. Katie walked past him.

Somehow, she managed to tell her son and her father a cheerful good-night. Maybe she was lucky her dad had come. She might have been afraid—of herself or Drew, she wasn't certain—if she had come back here with just Jordan.

And at that time of night, there truly wasn't anywhere else to go. People were saying there wasn't a hotel room to be had for two hundred miles.

Upstairs, in her room—his room—she lay awake for hours, trying to reason things out. Nothing illegal had been done, and yet it hadn't been right. But the other neighbors weren't angry with him at all, and from what her father said, she would lose her case if she did try to sue him, since nothing he—or his corporation—had done had been illegal.

And maybe she didn't want to be angry with him. Maybe she didn't want to lie on sheets that still carried the slightest hint of his masculine scent. Maybe she'd been so in love with the idea of being in love that she couldn't think anymore.

In Drew's code of building,
quality
building, it had been wrong. So what had happened? Was he guilty of wanting to make more and more money?

And if not him…

Then perhaps someone was playing games behind the corporate back.

The thoughts revolved in her mind.

She stared at the hidden door that separated the rooms when she heard Drew enter his room. She tensed and waited.

But the door didn't open. She waited and waited. Ready to fight, dying to be persuaded. But he didn't come. It seemed that she sat up, in misery, forever.

Sometime, though, she must have slept. When she woke up, light was streaming into the room. Jordan was standing over her.

“Gramps is downstairs having coffee. He says he takes it that you want to leave today, so we'd best get started in the next few hours.”

“Where's—Mr. Cunningham?” she asked.

“Drew has gone to his office,” Jordan said. His voice was reproachful.

Even her child was on the man's side.

“He left a note, saying that he probably wouldn't be back and that we should have a nice drive and take a hot shower for him somewhere along the line.”

Katie rose slowly. Her head hurt. She slipped into a robe and went downstairs.

Her father was at the breakfast table, watching the little television, sipping coffee. “Morning,” he told her.

“Morning,” she said.

“Wonderful house.”

“Wonderful.” Katie started to pick up her coffee cup.

“So what's going on between you and Drew Cunningham?”