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It was then that Sawyer was absolutely certain Kat’s appearance at that party three months ago, and possibly in his brother’s bed, was no coincidence.
Kat frowned at the misshaped hunk of wood in front of her. This was not her best work. Far from it. Honestly, it was crap. All she’d managed to produce was crap since the day she’d taken that pregnancy test and got a positive result. The creative zone had eluded her ever since then. She understood now why her parents had each been so protective of their work time and space. It was a fragile ecosystem, susceptible to imbalance when a sticky-fingered child was introduced to the situation.
That didn’t bode well for her future work, but she refused to worry about it now. She would figure it out. And not the way her parents had. Locked office doors and nannies were effective, but not particularly warm and loving for a child who wanted nothing more than her family’s love.
“So…” A familiar voice sounded from the entryway of her studio. “How’d last night go?”
Setting down her chisel, Kat turned to find one of her fellow artists and friends standing there in old overalls, fireproof gloves and a welding helmet. Hilda Levy rented the studio across from Kat, and despite the constant sounds of metal banging and sparks flying, she couldn’t ask for a better friend to work nearby. That said, she also kept a fire extinguisher on hand in case her wood shavings and Hilda’s blazing hot sparks collided.
“It went terribly,” Kat confessed.
Hilda pushed her helmet up, exposing the laugh lines and quirky black cat-eye glasses she was known for. “Well, shit. What happened?”
Kat plopped down onto an old futon she kept in the corner of her studio, and Hilda followed suit. “Well, for one thing, I had the wrong guy.”
Few things seemed to faze Hilda, but this caused her brow to knit in confusion. “What’s that, now?”
“I didn’t have sex with Sawyer Steele.”
The older woman looked over the top of her glasses at Kat. “Then who the hell was it?”
“His twin brother, Finn. He just let me think he was Sawyer, for kicks or something.”
“The plot thickens,” Hilda said, as she leaned in with interest. “So did you talk to Finn?”
“Uh, no. After crashing the wedding and slapping Sawyer, I hightailed it out of there, after I found out the truth. I was so embarrassed by the whole thing, I wouldn’t stay a moment longer. But I did find out that Finn is half a world away at the moment. So that complicates matters.”
“Does it? I know I’m old, but I have heard tell of this fancy internet thing that lets people communicate around the world.”
Kat rolled her eyes at her friend’s deadpan commentary. “You’re not old. And I’ll talk to him. Eventually. Right now I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. I mean, I slept with the wrong guy. The whole reason I went to that stupid award ceremony was to talk to Sawyer. To try and convince him that his plans for the District would be detrimental to the whole art community.”
“Not sleep with him,” Hilda added.
“No, not sleep with him,” Kat agreed. “That was…accidental. I went down in person to put him on the spot, because he wasn’t returning any of my calls and I couldn’t get past his stupid secretary. And it got us nowhere in the end, because not only did we never discuss his plans for the District that night, the man I met wasn’t even the one who bought it.”
“You didn’t bring it up that night?”
Kat thought back to the dark aquarium, the blue tank lights and the dimpled smile that had lulled her into doing something stupid. “I tried. But whenever I did, he’d change the subject. Probably so I wouldn’t figure out he wasn’t Sawyer and had no idea what I was talking about.” She groaned and dropped her face into her hand. “I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You were swept away by a charming billionaire after drinking too much champagne. That’s no crime. Personally, I’d love to make a mistake like that. It’s been a long time.”
Kat couldn’t help smiling at her friend. Hilda always had an outlook on life that could pull her out of the dumps when she was wallowing there. She honestly wasn’t sure how she would’ve gotten on after her parents died without Hilda. Without everyone here at the District, actually. Hilda was like her surrogate mother now. Except she gave advice like a girlfriend, not a mom. Since Hilda had never married or had kids of her own, maternal advice wasn’t her strong suit. Or so she said.
“We need to get you some,” Kat said. She was a little relieved to shift the topic off herself, even for a short time.
“Oh, Lordy,” Hilda exclaimed. “That shop has been closed down for so long it would take more than a good dusting to get it up and operational again.”
“I’m pretty sure it all still works. There’s someone out there for you. And when you meet him, you won’t be able to dust off that equipment fast enough.”
“I’m not so sure,” Hilda replied. This time when she spoke the smile in her eyes dimmed slightly. She was lonely. Kat knew it. Her smile and attitude tried to hide the fact, but Kat knew better.
“I’ve seen Zeke watching you work with more than a little appreciation in his gaze.”
Hilda rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Zeke? You’ve got to be kidding me. He just likes my work.”
“Are you sure?” Kat wagged her eyebrows suggestively. The older man was a sculptor with a studio on the other side of their floor. With Kat and Hilda at the back of the building, opposite the stairs and the restrooms, there was no reason for Zeke to be over on their side. But for some reason, he always seemed to be hanging around Hilda’s studio. It couldn’t be just because of her metalwork.
“No,” she argued. “But even if there was more to it, I’m not interested.”
“Why?” Kat challenged. Hilda had spent more than a few working hours over by Zeke’s studio herself.
“Because he’s a widower. His wife has been gone for a year now. Men his age don’t date for love. They date because they can’t function without a woman to cook and clean for them. I’ve avoided being someone’s maid for fifty-eight years and I have no interest in starting now.”
“You don’t know what he wants until you ask.”
Hilda sputtered for a moment before turning to Kat with a disgruntled expression on her face. “Why are we talking about my love life? You’re the one in the midst of a crisis.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” Kat pushed herself up from the couch and walked over to the table, where she’d left a bottle of water earlier. She took a sip and shook her head. “His brother said he’d get in touch with Finn, and hopefully, I’ll hear something soon.”
“And when you do hear from him, what exactly are you going to say? Have you decided what you want to do about the whole situation yet?”
Kat frowned. “Yes and no. My baby is my baby, end of story there. But as far as Finn and his role in our lives… I don’t know. I just… My whole life I’ve had this vision of my future and my family. It includes marriage. It always has.”
“From what you’ve said so far, this Finn guy doesn’t really sound like marriage material.”
“He’s not. Absolutely not. But the more I think about it, the more I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t change how I want things to be. I refuse to have my child born a bastard like I was. Regardless of the circumstances.”
“Your parents were together for twenty-five years,” Hilda argued.
“And never married,” Kat added. For whatever reason, they’d never felt it was important to do so. She got the feeling they’d actually avoided it deliberately because of the stickiness of comingling their artistic property and intellectual rights. It was such a silly reason in her eyes.
“So what? It’s not the 1950s anymore. Most of those Karwashians aren’t married and they’re having kids left and right.”
“It’s Kardashian,” Kat corrected, wishing she didn’t know enough about them to notice Hilda mangling their name. “And some of them are married. But it’s not the point.”
“Then tell me what is the point, honey.”
“I want my child to have a family.”
“You hardly know this guy.”
“Maybe it’s better I don’t. Maybe we should just jump in with both feet and see what happens. It’s possible we only stay married a year. Or we barely make it past the baby’s birthday before we call it quits. I can’t tell you how it will end up. But I can’t help but think it’s the right thing to do for my baby.”
“I’m not sure the Steele family is going to be as receptive as you’re wanting them to be. They have more money than the state of South Carolina. Even if Finn agrees to marry you, there’s going to be lawyers involved at every step. Prenuptial agreements. Custody arrangements. It’s not going to be the least bit romantic.”
“I don’t care about romance and I don’t care about the money. I have enough of that. I only want my baby to have what’s his or hers. I don’t need anything other than a father for my child. I want better for my baby than I had.”
“Okay.” Hilda gave a heavy sigh. “If you’re determined, then I wish you the best of luck marrying into that family. As for me,” she said, pushing up from the low futon with a groan, “I’ve got to get some work done. The clock is ticking on our time here and it’s going to be a nightmare hauling all my scrap metal away.”
Kat looked around her own studio, feeling guilty that she could afford to stay when others couldn’t. She’d still have to pack up and move out for a few months while they renovated, but she could come back. “You’re not moving out for good, Hilda. I promise. No matter what happened between Finn and myself, I still intend to pin down that jerk Sawyer Steele, and get him to change his mind about the District. Of course, now he probably thinks I’m just some gold-digging slut and won’t take me seriously.”
Hilda’s gaze shifted over Kat’s shoulder as her eyes widened behind her thick black glasses. She bit at her lip and gently shook her head.
Kat realized she was standing with her back to the entrance of her studio. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
Hilda nodded and Kat groaned aloud.
“I might be a jerk, but if it’s any consolation,” a man’s voice said from over her shoulder, “I don’t think you’re just a gold-digging slut.”
Three (#u0751974e-7ad6-5f69-b7fa-2145ffebc595)
Kat turned slowly to look at him and he couldn’t wipe the smug grin from his face. Sawyer’s timing couldn’t have been better if he’d tried. He’d caught her in the middle of a tirade about him, and that was fine, because he had a few choice words for her, too.
Most of those words dissipated from his mind when she was facing him. He thought she had looked beautiful at the wedding, but it didn’t hold a candle to how she looked today. Her copper hair was twisted into a messy bun, with two pencils holding it in place and sawdust, like glitter, sprinkled over the top. Her face was devoid of makeup, unless you could count the smear of white paint on her cheek and a splatter of yellow paint dots across her forehead. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of denim cutoff shorts that fell at the perfect length to highlight her firm, smooth thighs.
He expected her to say something, but she stood motionless, obviously in shock at his timely appearance. Before he could say anything else, the older woman standing nearby opted to excuse herself.
“I’ll let you two talk. I’ve got a piece to finish and five years of crap to pack up.” She looked pointedly at Sawyer as she went by.
He was used to that by now. He was the big, bad real estate developer out to destroy all they held dear. At least, that was what most of the voice mail and phone messages seemed to say. Sawyer wished he could convince them that he was trying to help, but they would never see it from his point of view. They either didn’t know or didn’t care that the building was crumbling around them. The electrical was old and not up to code. The plumbing was putting out rust-colored water and the pressure was almost useless. The freight elevator barely passed inspection. Before long, the District was going to be condemned and they would all lose their precious studio community.
Sawyer intended to fix things. Making those fixes required a few big concessions on the tenants’ parts: one, that they move out temporarily for the work to be done, and two, that their rent increase to cover the costs. When it was all said and done, he wasn’t renovating this place out of the goodness of his heart. He was a businessman. He saw the potential of the District. With some improvements, it could be not only a studio community, but a place where people wanted to come. Customers. Those people would spend money.
It was a win-win in his eyes. He wished he wasn’t the only one who saw that his plan was necessary to save the institution as a whole. Yes, some people might not be able to afford the rent at the new location, even with increased sales. But he’d learned a long time ago that he couldn’t make everyone happy, so he’d stopped trying.
He watched the older woman leave, then turned back to where Kat was standing, red-faced, in front of him. “You know, when we first met, your name sounded familiar, but I didn’t connect the dots. It wasn’t until I looked at your business card.” He fished it from his pocket and held it up. “Then all the pieces came together.”
“What are you doing here, Sawyer?” She wiped self-consciously at her face, but the paint stayed stubbornly in place. “Have your lawyers put together some payoff package to make me go away?”
Sawyer smiled and turned toward the collection of works in progress she had scattered around her studio space. “I’m not sure what the lawyers have in mind. Or if anyone has told them yet. I told Finn he had to deal with all that.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled over to admire an intricate carving of an owl on a nearby table. It was the size of a large watermelon, with big, lifelike eyes and feathers etched so delicately it seemed he could reach out and they would feel real. She was a very talented artist.
“So you’ve told Finn?”
He pulled away from the owl and turned to see Kat biting anxiously at her lower lip. He wanted to run his thumb across that same lip to protect it from her abuses. Instead, he kept his hands deep in his trouser pockets where they belonged. “The minute you left. I couldn’t wake him up fast enough with the good news.”
“He hasn’t reached out to me.”
Sawyer wasn’t surprised. “I wouldn’t let that worry you. I’m sure he wants to get his ducks in a row before he calls. And he has very unruly ducks. They’re basically squirrels on a sugar high. It may take some time.”
“I’m kinda on a set time line here,” Kat said, with one hand protectively covering the slight curve of her belly. “I hope he doesn’t take too long, because like it or not, his baby is going to be here come winter.”
“I’m sure he’ll be in touch. Once the shock wears off. He really wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.”
“Well, considering he didn’t give me the right name, I’m not surprised.”
“Yes. I think that’s the last time he’ll play that game, though. He’s far too fond of his good looks to risk them by pretending to be me again. I do have to wonder, though.”
“Wonder what?”
Sawyer turned and looked at Kat, who was standing a few feet away. He could easily imagine her in some slinky dress, all dolled up to go to the party and hunt down Sawyer Steele. She intended to get her way, no matter what it took. “It made me wonder how the night would’ve ended if it had been me there and not Finn.”
To be honest, the thought had haunted him the last few days. She had come to the party to see him. To talk to him. Perhaps to seduce him. And somehow the spoils went to Finn instead. Just like usual.
“I’m sure it would’ve ended very differently,” Kat said.
“Would it?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.
“I think so. For one thing, you probably wouldn’t have dodged my questions about the District and we could’ve had a real dialogue about it. And for another, you don’t have Finn’s…charisma.”
“Is that what you call it?” Sawyer chuckled. “I typically describe that skill set a little differently. I’m sure that played right into your hands, though.”
Kat narrowed her gaze at him, her nose wrinkling in thought and a line creasing between her auburn eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, if you went to that party with the intention of doing whatever it took to get your way… Finn made it easier. I would’ve been a more difficult mark.”
“Wait a minute,” Kat said, her hands held out defensively. “Are you suggesting that I deliberately went to the party to seduce you? As though I could be so good in bed that you would just change your mind about the District renovations and do whatever I asked?”
Sawyer shrugged. “I don’t know what you were thinking. It does seem pretty convenient, though, the more I think about it. Nothing you were doing was yielding any results. If angry calls and letters didn’t work, sympathetic news articles didn’t work, protests didn’t work…why not try a little honey instead of vinegar?”
“I did not go to that party with the intention of giving you any…honey! I went to that event to talk to you, because you wouldn’t return any of my calls. It was the only way I could think of to pin you on the spot and make you listen to my side of the situation.”
“And yet somehow you ended up sleeping with the man who claimed to be me. Sounds like you’re quite the overachiever.”
The steam was practically coming out of Kat’s ears, and he found he quite liked her when she was angry. The flushed cheeks, the bright eyes, pursed lips…he imagined it wouldn’t be much different from how she’d look in the throes of passion. He could just envision her auburn hair across the pillowcase, her sharp nails digging into the flesh of his back…
“Of all the arrogant, insulting things you could say!” Kat sputtered for a moment, at a loss for words before she shook her head. “I was a damned fool to go down there that night. A fool to think that you could be reasoned with. All you rich people care about is your bottom line. The people here are just walking, talking rent payments to you. You don’t give a damn about what this place means to the tenants here. You don’t care about the community that’s grown here over the years, or how you’re going to destroy it to make a buck!”
Her anger suddenly wasn’t so attractive anymore and she was starting to rub Sawyer the wrong way. She wanted to know why he was doing what he was doing? Well, he was going to tell her. He closed the gap between them and spoke with cold, quiet anger, mere inches from her face. “And you don’t seem to care that the rent I’m currently collecting barely covers the utilities for this place. There certainly isn’t enough left over to do any repairs and it’s falling down around you.”
Sawyer pointed to the peeling plaster overhead. “That’s going to come crashing down on you sooner or later. The sewer lines are going to fail and flood the ground floor. That wood lathe of yours could overtax the electrical circuits at any moment and set the building on fire. Who is going to fix that? Who is going to pay for all that? The previous owner just ignored the place and cashed the checks. Sure, rent was cheap, but there’s a cost, and the building has paid the price for all of you. It’s your turn to pay up, and no amount of sweet-talking or seduction is going to change that.”
Kat was at a loss for words. It didn’t happen very often, but Sawyer seemed to be able to render her mute. Especially when he stood this close to her. Yes, his words were icy cold with restrained anger and frustration, but she could feel the heat radiating off his body. His words were just static noise in the background, with her pounding heart drowning out everything but its sensual rhythm. She knew she should take a step back, reclaim her personal space and counter his argument with more pointed words, but she couldn’t make herself do it. Her body wanted to move nearer and close the gap between them.
It was ridiculous. Foolish. But she couldn’t help but be confused whenever she was around Sawyer. She was haunted by memories of a night in a downtown hotel room…memories of a man who looked like Sawyer. A man she’d thought was Sawyer. Somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world to reach out and touch him like she had before. Her libido couldn’t tell the difference between the two identical men.
But her brain knew. And it knew that was all a lie. Those memories, that man… It wasn’t Sawyer she remembered. And no matter how familiar those dark eyes or that dimpled smile, it wasn’t the same person. This man was a stranger. A stranger who intended to take away everything she held dear to make a buck. Sure, he wanted to make necessary improvements, but the fancy, downtown art scene he had in mind was a far cry from what the tenants truly needed. The necessary repairs weren’t the changes driving the rent out of the realm of possibility for most of the artists. It was the coffee shop, the concert venue, the paved parking lot and the high-end landscaping with dancing fountains.
It was a great response, exactly what she wanted to say, but the argument eluded her when Sawyer gazed at her this way. It wasn’t how Finn had looked at her. And yet it was the way she’d always wanted a man to look at her. Like he wanted to consume her, body and soul.
Even in his anger, Sawyer seemed almost as though he was on the verge of kissing her. A part of her wished he would, even if just to end this fight.
Okay, not just to end the fight.
Kat’s gaze met Sawyer’s. In the quiet stillness between them, they seemed to be even closer now. She could feel his breath softly brushing over her skin. Something had changed in the silence and it seemed that he noticed it, as well. It was almost an electricity.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked.
“What do you want me to—”
