The Count From Wisconsin Read online

  "So who said it had to be like ours?"

  Damn, he was hardheaded.

  "Evan, I know you want me to be happy, but married doesn't necessarily equal happy. In fact," she added ruefully, "most of the time it's just the opposite." She paused and glanced away from his probing eyes. "Evan, I've tried," she said in a distracted voice. "I really have. But something always stops me before I take the last step. I rationalize by telling myself that whoever I'm considering couldn't possibly be right or I wouldn't have reservations."

  "And you realize that's just an excuse?"

  "I suppose so ... oh, I don't know," she said in exasperation. "If it's that hard for me to consider making a commitment, maybe I'm just not marriage material."

  Evan smiled indulgently. "You don't believe that and neither do I. You're a giver. And you always let takers attach themselves to you." He laughed as if to counteract the seriousness of what he was saying. "You've never learned how to lean on another human being. You think it would be a sign of weakness so you hide your emotions behind your tough exterior, but, Katy, someday someone will give to you and you'll have to give that hidden part back in return."

  Kate shuddered as though a soothsayer had just predicted her demise. The thought of being in the kind of relationship that Evan wanted for her gave her a funny feeling in her stomach. It frightened her and Kate didn't like being frightened. She looked up to change the subject to something less disturbing; then stopped when she saw Evan's eyes trained on something over her shoulder.

  "What have you been doing while I was out of town?" Evan murmured, raising his brows.

  "Why do you ask like that?" she said, chuckling. "Like I've been planning to rob the casino or something?"

  "No, not a robbery,"he said. "But you seem to have attracted the attention of a pretty big fish."

  She began to turn in her seat, but before she had barely begun to move, she felt the tingling sensation she had felt only on one other occasion in her life. She tightened her fists on the table and let her gaze travel with unerring accuracy to a table in the corner of the room.

  Alex was sitting alone, his gaze trained on her steadily. As their eyes met, he lifted his wineglass in a silent toast, smiling slowly. She was suddenly struck with that same, strange tumid vision that had affected her the night before. Everything disappeared but his smile.

  "He came in behind me and I thought at the time he looked at you oddly."

  Evan's voice pulled her back to the present and she glanced away from Alex's dark, compelling eyes and found Evan staring at her with an amused expression on his craggy face.

  "But now he's staring a hole in your back," he continued. "Where on earth did you meet Alex Delanore?"

  "You know him?" she asked hoarsely.

  "I wouldn't say I know him," Evan said ruefully, "but in a place this small you see and hear things. I've seen and heard enough to know he's out of my league . . . and yours, come to think of it. How did you manage to attract the attention of this month's celebrity?"

  "I—I met him at a party," she stuttered uncomfortably. "But I barely know him. I can't imagine why he's staring at me," she lied. "What do you know about him?"

  Evan leaned back and took a sip of wine. "Let's see. He's new on the scene and everyone's darling. He has a chateau in Lucerne, one in Belgium, and a villa here. The extent of his wealth is a matter of constant speculation as is his background. He likes women and gambling, spends money like water, and if you want to know what toothpaste he uses, I could probably find out for you by this afternoon."

  Kate gave a gasp of surprised laughter. "Whew! Are you trying to tell me that there is a touch of gossip floating around this place?"

  "A touch?" he asked, laughing. "It's the leisure occupation of ninety percent of the population." He stared at her curiously for a moment, then leaned forward to place his hand on hers. "What's wrong, Katy?"

  Suddenly her hand began to tingle crazily, almost burning with the intensity of the sensation, and she jerked her hand away and rose quickly.

  "I—I've just remembered something, Evan. I've got to go." She began to move away as she spoke. "Apologize to Heather for me and tell her I'll see her back at the house." Then, without giving him a chance to speak, she walked briskly out of the restaurant.

  Outside on the street, she leaned against a white stone building and took deep breaths until her heart stopped pounding. Then she began to walk slowly, feverish thoughts spinning crazily in her head.

  Alex stood and moved across the room sifter Kate. One of the benefits of being part of the nobility, he thought dryly as he walked out of the restaurant. Nobody chases you when you leave without paying the tab.

  Out in the bright sunlight, he saw her walking slowly away from the building. He smiled in enjoyment of the picture she made as a connoisseur of fine art might smile at the Mona Lisa, an appreciative smile certainly, but perhaps containing a particle of ownership as though this beauty had been created especially for him to enjoy.

  Last night she had beckoned his senses and he had been dazzled by her. Today . . . today she beckoned his imagination and he was enchanted.

  Her long blond hair was in a roll at the base of her neck, reminding him of a beauty from the nineteen-fifties, and to add to the image, a wide-brimmed white hat framed her face. Her white dress was covered with big navy polka dots and tapered from wide lapels to a small waist cinched by a wide white belt. Her image was all innocence and springtime.

  For a moment he hesitated, wondering why he was leaving himself open for another rejection. It wasn't because he thought she had anything to do with Tony's trouble; he was positive she didn't . . . well, almost positive. So why was he bent on harassing a woman who obviously wanted nothing to do with him?

  Then one of the sayings that Moustafa was constantly throwing at him popped into his head. The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.

  He smiled, his chin jutting out in determination, and quickened his step.

  Suddenly Kate was not walking alone. She turned her head slightly to the side, but she knew already who it was. Alex was calmly striding along at her side, staring straight ahead. Feeling her heart begin to pick up the wild beat again, she increased her pace, trying to ignore his presence.

  "You win."

  The softly spoken words startled her as much as if they had been shouted.

  "I admit it, Duchess," he continued, his deep voice smooth and calm. "Even though you ran out on me last night, I'm still interested."

  She stopped walking and looked him over very carefully. "Should I kneel and kiss your hand or simply alert the local press?" she said, smiling sweetly.

  When he merely laughed and glanced at her with warm intimacy, she said, "Look, Count, I'm not a duchess. I'm nobody. I'm simply a struggling cartoonist on vacation who chose your party at random to crash because I needed material. That's all," she said firmly.

  "You're a cartoonist?" he asked in surprise. "Which cartoon?"

  Why did she feel she could hear relief to his voice? What did he think she did for a living, for heaven's sake? She glanced up at him. "The Dobsons. Why?"

  "The Dobsons," he said in recognition, apparently unconcerned with her question. "I used to read that."

  "Used to." Her voice was disgruntled. "Would you like for me to turn around so you can stab me in front too?"

  "I'm sorry," he said, grinning an apology. "Did I hit a nerve?"

  "I guess I'll have to get used to it," she said moodily, then looked around to find they were walking arm in arm down the street. "Alex," she said, sighing in exasperation, "what is all this about?" She glanced up at him, her face held in sober lines. "I've heard a little about you this morning, and it's not that I'm not flattered, but why are you pursuing me?"

  He stopped walking and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his head to stare up at the sky. She waited silently and after a moment he glanced back at her and shrugged, a twisted smile appearing on his stark features.

  "I
don't know," he said quietly. "I could say you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but you're not."

  "You honey-tongued devil, you," she said, choking on the spurt of surprised laughter.

  "I could say you're the most interesting person I've ever met, but I've met Richard Nixon," he said, studying the conflicting emotions in her face.

  "And there must be at least. . . two women in the world who are sexier than I am," she said, helping him out.

  "At least," he said, beginning to chuckle. "And several who are more successful."

  "Well," she said, drawing in a deep breath. "We've eliminated why you're not interested in me, now tell me why you are."

  "I don't know," he said, shrugging again. "Maybe it's that weird, warm feeling that takes over every time I get close to you."

  "You could get the same thing from a cup of cocoa."

  He moved closer to her. "No, I couldn't . . . that's just the point. I've never felt it before. Only with you."

  Trouble, she thought, backing warily against the wall behind her. There was sincerity in his tone and that was trouble.

  "Look, Alex," she said, her voice faint. "I'm glad I make you feel nice, but I still don't understand why you're following me." She raised her chin belligerently. "For heaven's sake, what do you want?"

  He placed his hand on the wall above her head. "I want you to get naked," he said as though discussing the weather. "I want—"

  She gasped and felt hysterical laughter well up inside her. "Wait—forget I asked," she choked out fervently. "I dont want to know."

  "You shouldn't have asked if you didn't want to know," he said simply, tilting her hat brim with one finger so he could see her face as he continued. "I want to see all of you. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to take down your hair and feel it falling around me when we make love. I want you to burn with as much need as I feel, as I've felt since last night. I want... I want it all, Kathryn."

  He moved back a-little and smiled. "That's what I want. What I'll settle for is getting to know you better. I don't know about you, but I can always use another friend."

  Kate leaned against the wall in stupefaction, then opened her brown eyes wide to stare at him. "You— you ought to be locked up," she said hoarsely. "You follow people around and turn them into stewed carrots." Her accusation gained momentum as her muscles decided at last to stay attached to her bones and her strength returned. "Then you smile and calmly say, "Be my friend.'' "

  At her first words, he had begun to smile, then, as a red Jaguar whizzed past, he jerked his head around to watch its progress. Kate frowned when she realized that most of what she had said had been lost on him.

  "What is it with you?" she asked. "Is this some kind of Jekyll and Hyde freak-out? Because if it is, the minute you start getting prominent brow ridges and hair on the palms of your hands, I'm cutting out. Do you hear me? Alex—"

  He turned his gaze back to her, a frustrated expression making his harsh features even more harsh. "Son of a bitch," he muttered in exasperation as he glanced back to the street. Then moving his head to look at her again, he set his jaw stubbornly and said, "Come on," as he took her arm and began to urge her toward the street. Raising a hand, he signaled to a silver-blue Mercedes that was slowly moving toward them, and it seemed to Kate that she remembered the car having passed by them several times before.

  When a uniformed chauffeur stepped from the car and moved briskly to open the back door, she pulled away from the hand on her arm. "What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she squeaked.

  "I'm following that car," he said calmly. Then when he glanced down at her, she saw a sparkle of excitement gleaming in his dark eyes. Turning back to the chauffeur, he said, "You go on home, Bernard."

  Kate had opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of eccentric millionaires who tried to abduct innocent cartoonists when suddenly a strange expression crossed her features. Seconds later, without comment, she walked to the car and slid in the passenger side, closing the door firmly.

  She didn't even mind that a surprised, but triumphant, laugh erupted from Alex's throat. Because now she knew what she should have known the night before. This was the next act.

  Four

  Kate sat docile and silent as Alex maneuvered expertly through the twisting streets of Monaco. And she didn't speak when they took Rainier III Boulevard through Fontvielle, the tiny principality's industrial district.

  But while they drove, her brow held deep grooves, her eyes narrowed, as she tried to solve the puzzle that nagged at her. She mumbled occasionally, arguing with herself, her Index finger held aloft each time she reached a point of importance in her silent debate.

  Then as they pulled onto the superhighway that ran from Monaco to Nice and the Mercedes shot forward with a sudden burst of speed, she turned to study the man behind the steering wheel. Panic, bewilderment, and self-flagellation had all been thoroughly explored and discarded by the time she began to speak slowly.

  "I'm doing it again, aren't I? For the third time since I've met you—Lord, was it only yesterday?—I'm following you around like a goose." She tapped the knuckle of her forefinger against her teeth for a moment, then added quizzically under her breath, "Maybe it's because I don't get enough lecithin."

  His quick grin didn't anger her. It wasn't his fault that she had gone round the bend. No, she thought, shaking her head, he wasnt responsible for the idea that had hit her so forcefully minutes before, so she couldn't blame him for enjoying the situation.

  She shook her head and continued In quiet astonishment. "I'm walking down the street and a man I barely know comes up and says, 'We're going to follow that car,' like something out of a low-budget movie."

  She waved her hand back and forth In a helpless gesture. "Do I yell for the police? Do I use what I learned in either of my two Judo lessons? Do I even say a polite 'No, thank you. Yesterday was my day for being crazy, so I think I'll be sane today'?"

  She shook her head emphatically, Ignoring his laughter. "Uh-uh, not me. Not Kate Call-Me-Irresponsible Sullivan. I step into your car like I've been waiting all my life to go on a joy ride with a fugitive from the banana bin." She gave a laugh that was surprisingly genuine, then leaned back in the smooth leather seat, adding in a lazy non sequltur, "I thought you said you drove a Ford."

  "I do, but Bernard drives a Mercedes," he said, glancing across at her, then back to the road ahead. "You're very impulsive, aren't you?"

  She shrugged and wiggled her outspread fingers in a so-so gesture.

  "No, you definitely are," he said. "Do you always regret your impulsive actions?"

  She considered the question. "Not usually," she said at last. "I generally decide that if I had taken the safe course, it would have been dull at the very least." She shot him a rueful glance. "But you have to remember my impulses normally concern nothing more drastic than buying a hot pink blouse rather than a demure brown one. It's only in the last two days that my impulses have gotten me in over my head."

  "That must mean you're growing." He smiled at her dubious glance. "It stands to reason. Your impulses are expanding in scope, so your mind must be too."

  "You really think so?" she asked skeptically, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "You don't suppose it could be simply that after all these years my brain has finally turned to Malt-o-Meal?" She gave a short laugh. "If I keep going at the rate I'm going, I'll most likely be at Happy Acres next week, weaving place mats out of old pantyhose and molding toothbrush holders out of Play-Doh."

  He chuckled and reached over to give her a hearty pat on the back. "You're too tense," he chided amiably. "Loosen up. You made a decision; why not relax and enjoy it?"

  Had she made a decision? Kate wondered. She supposed she must have because she was here, but it hadn't seemed to her that she had had a choice—unless life or hibernation was considered a choice. Coming with him, being involved with him, had seemed inevitable at the time. It was only after the deed was done that sh
e began to wonder what strange things were going on in her head.

  She wondered suddenly if it were something in Alex that was causing her strange behavior or something within herself. Or perhaps it was the two of them. The things she was beginning to feel, her uncharacteristic actions, may not have been possible until the two of them came together.

  Turning slightly in her seat, she began to study his face in curiosity. His smile had faded somewhat as his concentration was once again centered on the examination of the cars in front of them on the highway.

  She had forgotten that they were on a mysterious mission. With a sigh she turned her eyes forward to search for the red Jaguar, even though she couldn't help thinking that there were questions she should be asking at this point. Silly little questions like, "What are we doing . . . and why on earth are we doing it?"

  But she wouldn't ask those questions. Even though she couldn't keep herself from being curious or stop the grumbling protests that were second nature to her, it somehow seemed important that she accept what was happening without waiting for explanations.

  After all, would Lois Lane ask Superman for unimportant details when he was zooming away to catch the bad guy? Would the faithful Bull-winkle be anything less than staunch while following the brave Rocky?

  Suddenly Kate grinned. Superman? Bull-Winkle? It must be an occupational hazard.

  "There he is," Alex said at last, suppressed excitement showing through his casual tone. Within seconds they had swung off the highway and were on a small back road, heading roughly north.

  "Duchess?"

  Kate glanced at him warily when he gave her a coaxing smile. She definitely didn't trust that smile. "Yes, Count?" she murmured cautiously.

  "If you'll open the glove compartment, you'll find a road map," he said, giving her a slightly sheepish look. "Would you look on it and see where we're headed?"

  "You mean you don't even know where we are?" she asked, turning to stare at him incredulously.