The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

Manhattans, positioning it as a Dirty Martini Barnaby moment gone a step too far. And if the girls didn’t sound exactly convinced, at least they let the subject drop.

      She was less prepared for Deb’s darting, anxious eyes as she kept a steady flow of peppermint tea—her favourite stress remedy—pouring into Kate’s office—while very carefully not asking about ‘that nice Scott Knight’. Not that Deb had to ask; Kate was convinced she had psychic powers.

      And she was not at all prepared for her mother’s visit on Tuesday morning.

      Madeline Cleary swept into Kate’s office the way she swept through life: grandly, wearing a caftan, hot-pink lipstick and high heels.

      She took a seat, fixing Kate with one of her don’t mess with me stares. ‘Okay, Kate, what’s this Deb’s been telling me?’

      Deb! Psychic and traitor!

      ‘“This”?’ Kate asked, closing the door sharply—knowing it would drive Deb crazy not being able to listen in, which served her right.

      ‘Scott Knight,’ her mother said.

      ‘He’s an architect.’

      ‘Well, isn’t that lovely? Much more interesting than a barrister. But not really the pertinent fact at the moment, is it, Kate? Don’t bother with any of your legal obfuscation. Just tell me what’s happening.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Okay, then bring him to dinner on Sunday and I’ll ask him instead.’

      ‘That won’t be happening. It’s not like that with us. I mean the…the family thing. It’s just…just…’ The words trailed off and she shrugged.

      Her mother looked at her—very long, very hard. ‘It’s just that he’s the one, perhaps?’

      Kate tried—failed—to laugh. ‘Nothing that romantic.’

      ‘So make it romantic.’

      ‘You can’t make these things happen.’

      ‘Not if you’re pussy-hearted. Which, of course, is not the way I raised my daughters. I raised lionesses.’ She leaned forward. ‘Kate, remember when I tried to dissuade you from going into family law?’

      Eye-roll. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Not because I don’t like lawyers—’

      Another eye-roll. ‘Although you don’t!’

      ‘But because you’re so tender-hearted. I knew you’d be running yourself ragged, fighting for the downtrodden and then bleeding all over the place when you lost a case.’ She sat back again. ‘And do you remember what you told me to do?’

      Kate smiled—it blossomed despite her hideous mood. ‘I told you to shove it.’

      Her mother beamed at her. ‘And I was so proud of you.’

      Kate ran her hands over her face, laughing helplessly. ‘You’re a weirdo, Mum.’

      ‘It’s an artistic thing. So what?’

      ‘So I love you.’

      ‘And I love you. And I think you deserve a reward for all the crap you put up with day after day. And if he’s the reward you want, then you’re going to have him.’

      ‘He doesn’t want…that. The whole forever thing.’

      ‘From what I hear, he’s had plenty of what he wants.’

       Arrgghh. Going to kill Deb. Boil her in a vat of peppermint tea.

      ‘So, Kate, it’s time for what you want. Which just might turn out to be what he wants too.’

      ‘He doesn’t.’

      ‘How do you know? Have you asked him?’

      ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘Why “of course not”? Because he’s a boy and they have to ask first? Don’t make me slap you. Just ask him.’

      Silence.

      ‘Kate, the reason I was so proud of you that day when you told me so eloquently to shove it was because you threw it all at me. How you felt, why you felt it, what it meant to you. You said you would move heaven and hell to do it. And that if it all came to nothing, or you couldn’t hack it, at least you’d have no regrets about not trying. And, really, Kate? If it’s you asking for something, fighting for something…’ She smiled—a smile so completely proud and understanding and just so family Kate wanted to cry. ‘Well, Kate, who would ever say no to you?’

       Who would ever say no to you?

      Oh, God. God! Scott would say no. He would.

      ‘So, Kate, tell him. What you feel. Why you feel it. What he means to you. And move heaven and hell. Because, of all of my daughters, you can. And then, whatever happens, at least you’ll have no regrets.’ She paused again, shrugged. ‘The alternative is that I tell your father what he’s done to you—and he and Aristotle have been playing with a new set of throwing knives, so I’d prefer not to go that route. At least not yet.’

      Kate arrived at Scott’s on Tuesday ten minutes late.

      She stayed in her car for another ten minutes, with her mother’s words going through her mind. Tell him, tell him, tell him.

      But she couldn’t help feeling it would be like pulling the rug out from under him. I said it was only going to be sex, Scott, but it’s love.

      What would he say?

      Big sigh. Because she had no idea.

      He’d sent so many mixed signals her way she was beyond knowing what he expected of her, what he wanted from her, how he felt about her. He’d been everything from distant to demanding, from impassioned to indifferent. From flippant to furious. Agreeing to the rules—and breaking them.

      The way he’d looked at her in that alley on Friday night, when he’d taken her hands in his—that was not about sex. And that last Play Time, when he’d been so angry with her—irrational, emotional…

      Wasn’t that a bit like love?

      She sucked in a breath, because just saying that in her head made her heart flutter. Running a hand over her stomach, which was similarly fluttery, she wondered, maybe, if she should ask him.

      But after Play Time. Because if Play Time involved her getting into a PVC cat suit or wielding some kind of implement…? Well, she couldn’t see herself talking about love after a dose of kink.

      Sighing, she started to push the intercom button—but Scott opened the door before the chime even sounded. He took her in his arms, kissed her as though he’d been waiting a year and was starving for the taste of her.

      And everything in her fluttered. Nervous and hopeful and a little bit terrified.

      Releasing her slowly, Scott gestured for her to move into the house, and she was struck again by the magnificence of what he’d achieved—even more so today, when she was seeing it as Kate, who’d been invited, not Lorelei, who’d invited herself.

      It was stylish, lavish, unusual. A manifestation of all those parts that made Scott who he was. The coolness, the control, the hidden fiery core.

      Kate cleared her throat. ‘So. Play Time?’

      He put his arm around her, led her into what she supposed was the living room—or living space, more correctly, since there were no internal walls, only strategically placed columns.

      ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘I’m calling it “The Architect and the Lawyer”.’

      She halted as her hopes started to soar. ‘That sounds…normal.’