Read Online Heather Graham by Dante's Daughter - Free Book Online Page B

when he withdrew his touch, Katie felt the loss instantly. A deep loss. She was cold again, frightened, and bewildered. Without opening her eyes she knew that Kent was still beside her, leaning on his elbow, watching her. What would she find when she opened her eyes? Contempt? Possibly. What else could she expect?
    “Katie.” He said her name softly.
    Misery clutched her. She didn’t want to look at him.
    “Open your eyes, Katie.”
    You aren’t a coward, Kathleen, she reminded herself. And what could it matter? Her life would go on … Yes, thanks to his actions out on the road.
    She opened her eyes and looked at him searchingly, too shaken for anything resembling pretense. But she didn’t find contempt in his eyes. Katie found nothing that she read, only a somber darkness, pinning her soul. And in the moonlight her heart seemed to take a sudden lurch, then ache. She saw the hard lines of his profile, the character in the set of his jaw, the uncompromising line of his mouth. She had never realized quite how handsome he was. Perhaps he wasn’t really handsome; his appeal went deeper than that. It was in the sound of his voice, the fire—and the wisdom—in his eyes. When he was angry … passionate … or tender.
    He stood up, offering her his hand, helping her to her feet. “I’ll take you to your hotel,” he told her quietly. He put an arm around her shoulder and led her toward the road. Minutes later, she was in the bucket seat of the sports car, no longer angry but torn by emotion again.
    Kent drove in silence, a silence that was broken only when they neared the city and he asked, “Where are you staying?”
    A little dazed, Katie glanced his way, then finally came up with the name of her hotel. He nodded and kept driving.
    When he came up through the entryway, Katie assumed he only meant to drop her off. She learned that he meant to walk her in when she reached for the door handle to let herself out.
    “You and that damned door,” he remarked irritably. The point was moot—a valet was already opening it for her. She stepped out, aware that Kent had left the keys in the car and was accepting a ticket, as well as the slightly awed congratulations of the valet on the day’s game.
    She started up the steps without him but quickly felt the touch of his hand at her elbow.
    “I can go up alone,” she murmured.
    “If you do, you’ll be in for a few problems. You’re barefoot and you haven’t got a room key. Shouldn’t we go to the desk?”
    Why did he have to be so damned logical? she wondered resentfully.
    They walked to the reception desk together. When Katie asked for a key, the girl asked for her identification. Katie tried to explain that she didn’t have her purse—which was why she didn’t have her key—and therefore didn’t have any identification.
    She was growing frustrated when Kent broke into the conversation, laughing with definite charm and telling about their quick escape from a “slightly” wild party.
    It annoyed Katie that the girl behind the desk was practically purring in response. Then she realized who Kent was and begged for an autograph. Kent politely wrote his name. Katie received a key.
    “Aren’t you going to say thanks?” Kent asked against her ear as they walked away from the desk.
    “No,” Katie snapped. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have my shoes, my purse, and my key.”
    “I’ll get them back for you tomorrow,” Kent replied as they headed for the elevator.
    Katie was about to tell him she could reach her room alone, but she never got the chance. A little boy who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old came racing toward them crying, “It’s him! It is him! The Cougar—Mom, it’s him!”
    Katie couldn’t help but smile at the child’s enthusiasm. His eyes were wide with awe and admiration, but he stopped a foot away from Kent, as if his sudden proximity to his idol had made him suddenly shy. He spoke in a whisper to himself this time.