From the Heart (5 page)

“Not wallowing, Jordan. Creating.” She pushed her own untidy hair out of her eyes. “We've been building mud sculptures. Alison's very good.”

“Mud sculptures? You were playing in mud? We don't even have any mud.”

“We made some. It's really very easy. You just take some water—”

“For God's sake, Kasey, I know the formula for mud.”

“Of course you do, Jordan.” Her voice was soothing and calm, but he caught the laughter in her eyes. “You're an intelligent man.”

He could feel his patience ebbing. “Would you stay on the point?”

“What point was that?” She gave him a guileless smile that nearly turned into a grin as he heaved a deep breath.

“Mud, Kasey. The point was mud.”

“Well, there's little else I can tell you about that. You said you knew how it was made.”

He swore as his fingers tightened. “Kasey, don't you think it's a bit juvenile for a grown woman to take an eleven-year-old girl and spend the afternoon in a mud pile?”

So you know how old she is,
Kasey thought and gave him a long look. “Well, Jordan, that depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want an eleven-year-old girl for a niece or a forty-year-old midget.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Even for you, that's hard to follow.”

“The child is bordering on middle age, and you're so wrapped up in Jordan Taylor, you don't see it. She reads
Wuthering Heights
and plays Brahms. She's neat and quiet and doesn't intrude on your life.”

“Just a minute. Back up a bit.”

“Back up a bit!” Her anger had a habit of springing quickly. She pushed at her hair again. “She's just a little girl. She needs you, needs someone. When's the last time you talked to her?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I talk to her every day.”

“You
speak
to her,” Kasey countered furiously. “There's a wealth of difference.”

“Are you trying to tell me I'm neglecting her?”

“I'm not
trying
to tell you anything. I
am
telling you. If you didn't want to hear it, you shouldn't have asked.”

“She's never complained.”

“Oh,
damn
!” She whirled away, then spun back again. “How can such an intelligent man make such a ridiculous statement? Are you really so insensitive?”

“Be careful, Kasey,” he warned.

“If you don't like being told you're a fool, you shouldn't behave as one.” She was past caring how angry he became. Her own temper—her own sense of justice—ruled her words. “Do you think that being housed, fed and groomed are enough? Alison's not a pet, and even a pet merits affection. She's starving right in front of your eyes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to wash this mud off.”

Jordan took her arm before she could walk by him. Turning her around, he propelled her into a powder room down the hall. Without speaking, she turned on the water and began to scrub. Jordan said nothing as her words played back in his mind. In silence, Kasey cursed herself steadily.

She hadn't meant to lose her temper. Though she had planned to speak to him about Alison, she had intended to broach the subject diplomatically, calmly. The last thing she had wanted to do was pour out her thoughts in a torrent of abuse. It had always been her opinion that the more you shouted, the less you were heard. She continually told herself
not to become emotional when dealing with Jordan Taylor. She continued to do so. Now she took the towel he held out to her and carefully dried her hands.

“Jordan, I apologize.”

His eyes were steady. “For what, precisely?”

“Precisely, for shouting at you.”

He nodded slowly. “For the delivery but not the content,” he commented, and Kasey sighed. He was not an easy man.

“Exactly. I have a tendency to be tactless.”

He noted the way she was running the towel through her hands. She was ill at ease, he observed, but she wasn't going to back down. He felt a stir of reluctant admiration. “Why don't you start again?” he suggested. “Without the shouting.”

“All right.” Kasey took a moment to organize her approach. “Alison came to introduce herself to me the night I arrived. I saw an impeccably groomed young girl with shiny hair and beautiful manners. And bored eyes.” Her sympathies were freshly aroused at the memory. “I can't accept boredom, Jordan, not in a child with her whole life ahead of her. It broke my heart.”

Passion was back in her voice, but it was passion of a different kind. It wasn't anger this time. She was pleading with him to see as she saw. Jordan doubted she was even aware of the intensity of her eyes. She was thinking of the child only. Her compassion moved him. It was one more surprise.

“Go on,” he told her when Kasey paused. “Say it all.”

“It's none of my business.” Kasey pulled the towel through her hands again. “You're perfectly free to tell me so, but it won't make any difference in how I feel. I know what it's like to lose parents—the rejection, the terrible confusion. You need someone to help you make sense of it, to fill the holes you don't even understand. There's nothing as devastating as the death of people you love and depend on.” She took a deep breath. She was telling him more than she had intended to but couldn't seem to stop. “It isn't something you get over in a day or a week.”

“I'm aware of that, Kasey. He was my brother.”

Her eyes searched his and found something unexpected. He had loved deeply, too. All of her guards dropped away.
She reached out to touch his hand. “She needs you. Jordan, there's nothing like the love of a child. They don't put conditions on their emotions. They simply give. There's a purity to it we lose when we grow up. Alison's waiting to love someone again.”

He looked down at the hand that lay on his. Thoughtfully, he turned it over and studied her palm. “Do you put conditions on your emotions?”

Kasey's gaze remained level. “Once I give them, no.”

He studied her a moment with a small frown of concentration in his eyes. “You really care about Alison, don't you?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Why?”

Kasey stared at him in honest confusion. “Why?” she repeated. “She's a child, a human being. How could I not care?”

“She's my brother's child,” he returned quietly. “And it would seem I haven't cared nearly enough.”

Touched, she lifted her hands to his shoulders. “No. Not understanding and not caring are totally different.”

The simple gesture moved him. “Do you always forgive so easily?”

Something in his eyes had warnings hammering in her brain. He was coming too close to the core of her again. Once he was there, Kasey knew she'd never be free of him. “Don't canonize me, Jordan,” she said glibly. It was her most successful defense. “I'd make a dreadful saint.”

“You're not comfortable with compliments, are you?” She started to drop her hands, but he placed his on top of them to keep them on his shoulders.

“I love them,” she countered. “Tell me I'm brilliant, and I turn to putty.”

“Oh, compliments on your intelligence. You're used to them, I imagine.” He smiled. “On the other hand, if I were to tell you that you were a very warm, very generous person whom I find difficult to resist, you'd reject that.”

“Don't do this, Jordan.” He was too close, and the door shut them off from the rest of the house. “I'm vulnerable.”

“Yes.” He gave her an odd look. “That, too, is a surprise.”

He lowered his mouth to taste her. At the first touch, he felt
her fingers tighten on his shoulders. Then she relaxed and gave. For the second time that day, Kasey fell in love. She felt the loss of her heart as a physical sensation, painful this time.
He'll hurt you,
her mind warned, but it was already too late.

“You smell of soap,” he murmured as his mouth roamed over her face. “And there are a dozen freckles on your nose. I want you more than I've ever wanted another woman.” His voice grew husky. “Damn you, I can't understand it.”

When his mouth came back to hers, Kasey could taste the flavor of anger. His tongue probed deep as he pulled her closer. For the first time in her life, Kasey gave all—body, heart, mind.

When his hands reached for her, she offered no resistance but let them roam. Reason, she knew, would return all too swiftly. She pulled him closer, wanting to fill herself with the taste of him. Her fingers combed through his hair, then wandered down to the muscles of his shoulders and back. She wanted his strength—a strength to match her own.

He slipped both hands under her shirt to cup her breasts. Her skin was impossibly soft—as soft and warm as the inside of her mouth. He heard her moan as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. It was madness, he knew, but he wanted nothing else but to have her. Desire was pushing him as it never had before. There was a temptation to pull her to the floor and take her, quickly, fiercely, and be done with it. Would sanity return then? Would his life become his own again?

He pulled her away abruptly and stared down at her. Her breathing was quick, and the vulnerability she had claimed was all too apparent in her eyes.

“I need you,” he said tersely. “And I don't like it.”

“No.” She nodded, understanding the feeling all too well. “Neither do I.”

“And if I come to your room tonight?”

“Don't.” Kasey pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. She had to think, yet thinking was impossible when she could only feel. “We're not ready, either of us.”

“I'm not sure we have a choice anymore.”

“Maybe not.” She took a deep breath and felt her balance begin to return. “But for a while, why don't we stay out of bathrooms together?”

He laughed and caught her face in his hand. He had never known anyone else who could so easily make him laugh. “Do you really think that's going to help?”

Kasey shook her head. “No, I'm afraid it isn't, but it's the best I can do at the moment.”

A
lison sat on the pink satin spread and watched Kasey apply her makeup. The pots and tubes of color which were scattered over the vanity table fascinated her. Approaching, she began to finger them hesitantly.

“When do you think I'll be old enough to wear makeup?” Alison picked up a pot of eyeshadow for closer study.

“Not for a few years,” Kasey murmured as she darkened her lashes. “But with that face of yours, you won't need illusions.”

Alison leaned over to peer at both faces in the glass. “But you use it, and you're much prettier than I am. You have green eyes.”

“So do cats,” Kasey commented and grinned. “Brown eyes are very effective, especially on a blonde. Nothing devastates the human male more than soulful brown eyes and long lashes. You'll have boys eating out of your hand when you're fifteen.” She watched Alison smile and blush. “Just don't turn on the charm too early,” she warned and gave Alison's hair a tug. “And no fluttering eyelashes tonight. I don't think Dr. Rhodes could handle it.”

With a giggle, Alison sat down on the edge of the lounger. “Grandmother says Dr. Rhodes is a distinguished man and a social asset.”

I'll bet she does, Kasey mused to herself and picked up her lipstick. “I thought of him more as a teddy bear, myself.”

Alison covered her mouth and rolled her eyes. “Kasey, you say the strangest things.”

“Do you think so?” She began to search for a misplaced brush. “I thought it an accurate description. He's all round and kind of cuddly. Winnie the Pooh with glasses. I've always been fond of Winnie the Pooh. He's rather sweet and helpless and wise all at once. Have you seen my brush?”

Alison picked it up from the lounge chair and handed it to her. “He pats me on the head,” she said with a sigh.

Stifling a grin, Kasey tried to convince her hair to come to order. “He can't help it. Older men who are confirmed bachelors have a tendency to pat children on the head. They really don't know what else to do with them.” Kasey picked up her perfume bottle and aimed a squirt at Alison. She liked hearing the child laugh. “Let's go see if Pooh's here yet.”

They entered the parlor together. Spotting Harry Rhodes across the room, Kasey looked down at Alison and sent her a conspirator's wink.

Standing beside Harry, Jordan noted the exchange. He lost the thread of his friend's conversation. When was the last time he had seen Alison smile that way? When was the last time he had taken the time to look? He felt a quick pang of guilt. As a guardian, he realized, he couldn't be faulted. But as a surrogate father, he had failed completely. It was time to make it up to her—and to himself.

He laid a hand on Harry's arm to stop his dissertation, then crossed the room to his niece. “Well, I wasn't prepared for two beautiful females.” He lifted Alison's chin with his hand and studied her. She was quite beautiful, he realized with a start. And more grown up than he had thought. “I'll have to lock you up before long if I want to keep you to myself.”

Alison's eyes widened in surprise. The look alone had him berating himself for having taken her for granted. How could he have lived with her for so long and not have noticed? As he watched, Alison glanced up at Kasey in confusion. Jordan felt a moment of panic as she looked at him again. Was it too late?

“Oh, Uncle Jordan.” He saw Alison's heart leap into her eyes.

Love without restrictions. He felt something open inside of
him. “Oh, yes,” he said quietly and touched Alison's cheek. “I believe I'll keep you.”

“Alison,” Beatrice called from across the room. “Where are your manners? Come say good evening to Dr. Rhodes.”

Alison flashed a grin at Kasey and went to do her grandmother's bidding.

“Well, Jordan.” Kasey swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “You're quite a man.”

He looked back at her and smiled. “Tears, Kasey?”

“Don't.” She shook her head and swallowed again. “I'll disgrace myself.”

Briefly, his eyes swept to Alison. “I have you to thank for that.”

“Oh, no. Please.” Kasey shook her head more fiercely.

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Yes. I have a feeling it's going to be a difficult debt to pay. I had love staring me in the face and didn't see it.”

She studied him and let out a deep breath.
You still do,
she thought. It's just a bit more complicated. “Jordan, unless you want to send Dr. Rhodes and your mother into fits and soil that perfectly beautiful handkerchief you have tucked in your pocket, you'll change the subject and fix me a drink.”

“All right.” He kissed her fingers again. “For now.”

 

Through courses of onion soup, rack of lamb and chef's salad, Harry Rhodes prompted Kasey with questions about the science of anthropology. He was unable, even with this second meeting, to equate the Kathleen Wyatt whose work he had read and admired with the quick-witted woman who sat across from him. She bounced from one subject to the next, occasionally making statements that left him completely baffled. Because he knew Jordan well, he was easily able to see that his friend's interest in her was not strictly academic. And because Kasey had come into the Taylor household on his recommendation, he worried. Had he, in fact, saddled Jordan with a problem rather than a solution?

Her knowledge in her field, however, was all-encompassing. By the time the peach flambé was served, Harry began to relax.

“Anthropology is not psychology,” Kasey answered to one
of his comments. “As a psychologist, Dr. Rhodes, you attempt to hold culture constant and explore mind and psyche. As an anthropologist, I attempt to hold mind and psyche constant and explore culture. I have a good book on the subject. Perhaps you'd like to borrow it.”

“Yes.” Her conversation seemed lucid and relieved his mind. “I'd very much appreciate that, Miss Wyatt.”

“Fine. If I can dig it up, you can take it with you tonight.” She took another scoop of dessert.

“I'm afraid all this is far above my head,” Beatrice put in. She sent Harry a warm smile. She ignored Kasey completely. “You psychologists and anthropologists fascinate me with your theories and philosophies on life.”

“Now, Beatrice, I'd hardly consider my theories fascinating,” Harry put in modestly.

“I wonder what Kasey's philosophy on life might be,” Jordan mused. He sent her one of his engaging smiles. “I'm sure we'd all be fascinated.”

Kasey licked the back of her spoon. “From this anthropologist's point of view, Jordan . . .” She paused to pick up her wineglass. “Life is like a moustache. It can be wonderful or terrible. But it always tickles.”

Jordan laughed as Harry took a rather deep swallow of wine.

Thirty minutes later the two men were closed off in the game room. Jordan racked the balls on the pool table and listened to Harry's uneasy comments on Kasey.

“Harry, there's no need to be concerned.” He indicated for the doctor to break. “Kasey's giving me everything I need, and more. I'm finding the store of knowledge in that strange brain of hers incredible.”

“That's precisely the point.” Harry broke and frowned. “She is strange.”

“Perhaps it's the rest of us who are strange,” Jordan murmured. Since she had walked into his life, he was no longer certain. “In any case, she knows her field like most people know the alphabet.” He moved into position for a shot. “I'd never be able to get the depth I want without her.” He shot, made his ball and moved into the next position. “What's more, she's the most intriguing woman I've ever met.”

“You're not getting personally involved with her?”

“I'm doing my damnedest.” Jordan frowned as the five ball missed the pocket.

“Jordan, a personal involvement with her could interfere with your work. I told you before when I read your outline, it's Pulitzer potential. You already have the reputation.”

“It might be wiser to finish the book before we start thinking about Pulitzers. Your shot, Harry,” Jordan reminded him.

Harry made two balls and missed a third. As he shot, he thought over his next words carefully. “Jordan, I had noticed you'd been a bit restless lately. I was going to suggest a vacation when the book was finished.”

Jordan grinned and leaned over the table. He positioned his cue. “Are you trying to protect me from Kasey, Harry?”

“I wouldn't put it that way—exactly.” Harry blustered and leaned against his stick. “I realize Miss Wyatt is quite attractive, in a rather unusual fashion. She's also unsettling.”

“
Hmm. Unsettling,
” Jordan murmured. “She does take over. There's nothing I could do about it if I was sure I wanted to. The one thing I am sure of is that she's opened a few doors for me I hadn't known I had closed.”

“You're not becoming emotionally . . .” Harry searched around for the proper phrase. “Entangled?”

“Am I in love with her?” Jordan frowned. He sunk the nine ball and scratched. “I haven't the faintest idea. I know I want her.”

“My dear boy,” Harry began, “sex is . . .” He faltered and cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Jordan prompted, failing to suppress a grin.

“A necessary part of life,” Harry finished stiffly.

“Harry, you surprise me.” His grin widened. “Your shot.”

Both men glanced over as the door burst open.

“God, Jordan, you really should post road maps.” Kasey strolled in carrying a thick book. “I've never seen so many corridors. Your book, Dr. Rhodes.” She set it on a table and blew her bangs from her eyes. “Have I trod on sacred ground?”

Jordan leaned on his stick. Why was it that a room seemed
to come to life when she walked into it? “Would it matter?” he asked her and smiled.

“Of course not. I'm always treading on sacred ground. Can I have a drink?”

“Vermouth? I haven't stocked tequila down here.”

“Yes, thanks.” She was already involved with a survey of the room.

It was large and open with a gratifying absence of silks or brocades. The wood-planked floor she had imagined in the parlor was in evidence, and there were simple bamboo shades at the windows. It was scrupulously clean, but there were signs of living. A fat candle had been burnt down halfway in its pewter holder. A collection of record albums were stacked on a shelf, one or two of them at odd angles.

“I like this room,” she said and walked to a glass table that held a few pieces of primitive pottery. “Very much,” she added as she turned to accept the glass of vermouth from Jordan. “Thank you.”

He wasn't sure why her approval pleased him, but he knew it did. She tilted her head as if trying to see him from a new angle.

“This is your room,” she murmured. “Like the study.”

“I suppose you could put it that way.”

“Good.” She sipped at her drink. “I'm beginning to like you, Jordan. I almost wish I didn't.”

“We seem to have the same problem.”

With a nod, she moved away. “Pool, huh? Don't let me interrupt you. I'll just finish my drink before I head back into the maze.” She glanced around the room again. It was the only room in the house, other than the study, where she felt comfortable. “I'd like to talk to you about the book when you've finished it, Dr. Rhodes.”

“Of course.” Her smile, he thought, was indeed very appealing. “Perhaps you'd like to join us for a game, Miss Wyatt,” he offered, surprising himself.

“That's very nice of you.” She smiled again and watched with affection as he straightened his shoulders. “I'm sure you're betting, though, aren't you?”

“That's not necessary,” Harry said.

“Oh, but I wouldn't want you to change the rules for me.”
Kasey sipped again and eyed a pool stick. “What are the stakes? Perhaps they're in my range.”

“I'm sure we can accommodate you, Kasey.” Jordan paused to light a cigar. “How about a dollar a ball?”

“A dollar a ball,” she repeated and approached the table. “Let's see, how many are there?” She frowned and counted. “Fifteen. I suppose I can handle that. How do you play?”

“Rotation might be simplest,” Jordan commented and glanced at Harry.

“Fine.” The older man began to chalk his cue.

“Rotation,” Kasey repeated, then smiled as Harry handed her his cue. “What are the rules?”

“The object is to sink the balls into the pockets in chronological order,” Jordan explained. She was wearing earrings tonight, he noticed. Small silver hoops that caught the light. Even across the table, her scent reached out to him. He brought himself back. “Or hit the next ball in order into another and sink that one, or as many as possible. Hit the cue ball, the white one, knocking it into the other balls from the lowest number to the highest. The object is to clear all the numbered balls from the table.”

“I see.” Kasey frowned down at the green baize and nodded. “It certainly sounds simple enough, doesn't it?”

“You'll catch on, Miss Wyatt,” Harry told her gallantly. “Would you like to practice first?”

“No, why don't we dive right in?” She sent him another smile. “Who goes first?”

“Perhaps you'd care to break,” Harry continued, feeling expansive as Jordan racked the balls again. “Just hit the cue ball into the rack. Whatever drops in is yours.”

“Why, thank you, Dr. Rhodes.” Kasey walked down to the end of the table.

“Hold the cue this way,” Jordan instructed, positioning her fingers. “Keep it steady, but let it slide through. See?”

“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I'm to smack it into the ball marked one, right?”

“That's one way to put it.” He could kiss her now, he thought, right now, and send Harry into apoplexy. He could smell her hair as he stood over her, feel the smooth skin of her shoulder under his hand.