“I don’t want to marry anyone,” he said unexpectedly. “Especially a woman I’ve only just met,” he added without being unkind.
“Well, certainly you don’t want to marry me right now,” she agreed. “After all, you don’t even know me. Sadly, once you discover my worthy traits and my earthy longings, you’ll be clamoring to put a ring on my finger. But I’ll have to turn you down, you know. I already have a commitment.”
His face went hard and his eyes glittered. He turned away from her and began searching in drawers. “Some commitment,” he muttered. “The man doesn’t even come to check on you. What if a hurricane hit? What if some criminal forced his way in here and raped you, or worse?”
“He phones occasionally,” she said demurely.
“What a hell of a concession,” he returned. “How do you stand all that attention?”
“I really don’t need your approval.”
“Good thing. You won’t get it. Not that I have any plans other than supper,” he added forcefully, glaring at her as he began to put things on the table in strange and mysterious order.
She didn’t bother to answer the gibe. “You really should take lessons in how to do a place setting,” she remarked, noting that he had the forks in the middle of the plate and the knives lumped together.
“I don’t want to make a career of it.”
“Suit yourself,” she told him. “Just don’t blame me if you’re never able to get a job as a busboy in one of the better hotels. Heaven knows, I tried to teach you the basics.”
He chuckled faintly. She turned and began to put the food on the table. Afterward, she rearranged the place settings until they were as they should be.
“Show-off,” he accused.
She curtsied, grinning at him. “Do sit down.”
He held the chair out for her, watching when she hesitated. “I am prepared to stand here until winter,” he observed.
With a long sigh, she allowed him to seat her. “Archaic custom.”
“Courtesy is not archaic, and I have no plans to abandon it.” He sat down across from her. “I also say grace before meals—another custom which I have no plans to abandon.”
She obediently bowed her head. She liked him. He wasn’t shy about standing up for what he believed in.
Halfway through the meal, they wound up in a discussion of politics and she didn’t pull her punches.
“I think it’s criminal to kill an old forest to save the timbering subsidy,” she announced.
His thick eyebrows lifted. “So you should. It is criminal,” he added.
She put down her fork. “You’re a conservationist?”
“Not exclusively, but I do believe in preservation of natural resources. Why are you surprised?” he added suspiciously.
That was an answer she had to avoid at all costs. She forced a bright, innocent smile to her face. “Most men are in favor of progress.”
He studied her very intently for a moment, before he let the idea pass. “I do favor it, but not above conservation, and it depends on what’s being threatened. Some species are going to become extinct despite all our best efforts, you do realize that?”
“Yes,” she said. “But it seems to me that we’re paving everything these days. It’s a travesty!”
“I’ve heard of development projects that were stopped because of the right sort of intervention by concerned parties. But it isn’t a frequent occurrence,” he remarked.
“I hate a world that equates might with right.”
“Nevertheless, that’s how the system works. The people with the most money and power make the rules. It’s always been that way, Nikki. Since the beginning of civilization, one class leads and other classes serve.”
“At the turn of the century, industrialists used to trot out Scientific Darwinism to excuse the injustices they practiced to further their interests,” she observed.
“Scientific Darwinism,” he said, surprised. “Yes, the theory of survival of the fittest extended from nature to business.” He shook his head. “Incredible.”
“It’s still done,” she pointed out. “Big fish eat little fish, companies which can’t compete go under…”
“And now we can quote Adam Smith and a few tasty morsels from The Wealth of Nations, complete with all the dangers of interfering in business. Let the sinking sink. No government intervention.”
She stared at him curiously. “Are you by any chance a closet history minor?” she queried with a smile.
“I took a few courses, back in the dark ages,” he confessed. “History fascinates me. So does archaeology.”
“Me, too,” she enthused. “But I know so little about it.”
“You could go back to school for those last two semesters,” he suggested. “Or, failing that, you could take some extension courses.”
She hesitated. “That would be nice.”
But she didn’t have the means. She didn’t have to say it. He knew already. She’d ducked her head as she spoke, and she looked faintly embarrassed.
She had to stop spouting off, she told herself firmly. Her tongue would run too far one day and betray her brother to this man. She hadn’t lied about college, though. Part of the terms of her settlement with Mosby Torrance at their divorce was that he would pay for her college education. And he had. She’d worked very hard for her degree. The pain she’d felt at her bad experience had spurred her to great heights, but she hadn’t been able to finish. She’d had to drop out just after her junior year to help Clayton campaign. Kane didn’t know that.
“What do you do for a living?” he asked suddenly.
She couldn’t decide how to answer him. She couldn’t very well say that she hostessed for her brother. On the other hand, she did keep house for him.
“I’m a housekeeper,” she said brightly, and smiled.
He’d hoped she might have some secret skill that she hadn’t shared with him. She seemed intelligent enough. But apparently she had no ambition past being her boyfriend’s kept woman. That disappointed him. He liked ambitious, capable women. He was strong himself and he disliked women whom he could dominate too easily or overwhelm.
“I see,” he said quietly.
He looked disappointed. Nikki didn’t add anything to what she’d said. It was just as well that he lost interest in her before things got complicated, she told herself. After all, she could hardly tell him who she really was.
Chapter Five
Nikki put the dishes away while Kane wandered around the living room, looking at the meager stock of books in the shelves. She sounded like she was well-read, but the only books he noted were rather weathered ones on law.
“They were my father’s,” she told him. “He wanted to be a lawyer, but he couldn’t afford the time.”
Or the money, Kane thought silently. He glanced at her. “Don’t you have books of your own?”
“Plenty. They’re not here, though. The house tends to flood during storms and squalls, so we…I—” she caught herself “—don’t leave anything really valuable here.”
As if she probably had anything valuable. His dark eyes slid over her body quietly, enjoying its soft curves but without