A Twist Of Fate. Lisa Jackson

finally asked, all of his attention drawn to the features of her face.

      “Why do you ask?”

      “I guess because this apartment house isn’t exactly what I expected.” He lifted his shoulders and shrugged into his jacket.

      “Just what did you expect?” Erin was intrigued by the conversation. Perhaps if she could draw him out, he would explain his feelings about her and wash away those last traces of doubt that nagged at Erin’s mind. She could sense that there was something he wasn’t telling her. It was as if he was purposely being wary with her.

      “Oh, I don’t know,” he began in answer to her question. “But this place—it seems a little out of character,” he remarked, looking at the faded Persian rug and running his fingers over the antique craftsmanship of the lead-glass windows.

      “Out of character?”

      “You’re a career woman, right?” he asked, and Erin nodded her head in agreement, all the while wondering what he was leading up to and somehow not wanting to know. “This apartment—for that matter, the entire building—just doesn’t fit with my interpretation of today’s liberated woman…”

      “Why not?”

      “Truthfully,” he chuckled, “because it looks like the set for one of those black-and-white slice-of-life movies of the forties.”

      Erin arched an inquisitive black eyebrow. “And you expected smoked glass, chrome fixtures and black vinyl upholstery?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Sorry to disappoint you,” she quipped, leaning against the door.

      “You haven’t disappointed me—not at all.” His eyes found hers for an instant, and then his gaze swept the loft. “I knew when I met you that there was a darker, more private side of you. A side that you prefer to keep hidden away. Am I right?” His hands came up to the door, pressing on the wood and creating an imprisoning barrier near her head.

      Erin met his questioning gaze with defiance. He was too close to the truth, too close to her. She drew in a deep, trembling breath. “You’re right. I am a very private person, and I like it that way. What I don’t like is anyone coming into my home and attempting to psychoanalyze me!”

      A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes revealed only arctic cold. His breath whispered across her face. “Is that what I’m doing?”

      “I hope not,” she breathed, trying to still her racing heartbeat. Surely he could hear it—he was so near.

      His finger reached out and stroked her cheek and his eyes covered her face and throat. “Maybe it would be a better idea to stay here today,” he suggested silkily, but abruptly changed his mind. “On second thought it might be too dangerous to stay here…come on. I don’t like being late.”

      “Late? For what?”

      “You’ll see…” There was just a hint of intimacy in his tone.

      Erin pulled her jacket tightly around her shoulders, as if she were experiencing a sudden chill. “What have you got planned for today? Where are we going?” she demanded.

      “You really don’t want to know!” He moved one of his hands and helped her with the light calfskin jacket. His fingers brushed against her arm and lingered. Or did they? She pulled abruptly away from him and cinched the belt securely over her waist.

      “Of course I want to know! Where are you taking me?”

      “Just come along. And don’t try to kid me. I haven’t known you very long, but believe me, I know you well enough to realize that you like surprises and mystery in your life.”

      “I’d just like to know what makes you such an expert on me,” she muttered and reached for the door angrily. She was angry because he was correct in his assumption about her, but she hated to admit it. Before she could open the door, he grabbed her forearm and whirled her around to face him.

      His eyes reached into the depths of hers. “You can’t hide from me, Erin,” he whispered. “I won’t let you.” She could feel herself trembling at his touch. Her lips parted, but the denial that was forming in her mind died.

      He lowered his head slowly, and his lips melted into hers in a kiss that was soft, beckoning and full of promise. She found herself yearning to respond to the warmth and tenderness of the embrace, but she forced herself to pull away. If he had any questions about her reaction to him, he didn’t ask them. Instead he pulled her tightly against him and led her down the steep steps of the apartment building.

      There were many thoughts that crossed her mind, and just as many questions that didn’t have answers. She ignored the flood of emotions that carried her out of the house and into the sleek black sports car. Kane helped her into the car and then slid into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and the sporty machine roared to life. Neither Erin nor Kane spoke, and the silence was as heavy as the gray Seattle fog, but Erin discovered an inner warmth that she didn’t know existed.

      Four

      Kane drove steadily toward the heart of the city, carefully maneuvering the sporty little car down the steep inclines of the hills in order to save the muffler on the roller-coasterlike grade. Through the fog the gray waters of Elliott Bay lapped lazily against the waterfront. As they crested a final hill Erin was able to see the wharf and the bustle of activity along the crowded and colorful piers.

      After parking the car, Erin and Kane strolled on the boardwalk that flanked the water’s edge. Kane’s hands were pushed deep into his pockets and his gaze slid over the water. Salt spray brushed against Erin’s cheeks in a chilling embrace. Seagulls marauded the shore, calling out their lonesome cries. White, gleaming ferryboats plowed their way through the water, leaving only a frothy wake on the gray-blue waters as they disappeared into the fog.

      Kane led Erin into a tiny bistro on the wharf. The warmth of the cozy restaurant was a welcome relief from the chill of the seawater and fog. They were seated at an intimate table near the window where they could watch the activities along the piers from the shelter of the bistro.

      As the waiter brought the fresh seafood omelettes, Kane studied his empty coffee cup before looking into Erin’s eyes.

      “I suppose that you overheard my conversation with Krista.” It was more of a statement than a question.

      “Part of it.”

      “Why didn’t you ask me about her?”

      Erin met his gaze unwaveringly and noticed the rigid line of his jaw. Was he always so tense when he thought about his child, she wondered to herself. Aloud she responded, “I didn’t want to pry.”

      Kane took a deep breath and looked out over the waters. He seemed to be wrestling with a weighty decision. Finally he turned his head back toward Erin. “Krista’s handicapped.”

      A startled look threatened to possess Erin’s features, but she managed to make her voice steady. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

      “So am I,” he groaned and threw his napkin on his empty plate.

      “Do you want to talk about it?”

      “Do you want to listen?” His face was a mask of indifference, as if he suddenly regretted his outward display of emotion. No, she wanted to scream. I don’t want to know anything more about you. I’m attracted to you and I’m afraid of the attraction. I can’t learn anything more about you that might bind me more tightly to you. I have to push away from you…I have to.

      “Of course I’ll listen,” she murmured, quieting the voice of suspicion that nagged at her.

      “Krista is eleven. She was ten when the accident occurred.” A dark, faraway look crossed his features. As he continued, his voice was flat, betraying no emotion. It was almost as if the words were part of a well-rehearsed speech,