Home for Love by Ellen James Read Free Book Online Page A

like a latter-day Queen Victoria enthroned on cushions. Kate had tried referring gently to Mrs. Cleeve's rheumatism, which acted up in San Francisco's damp climate; surely chairs and ordinary tables would be less of a strain. But Mrs. Cleeve had remained adamant about her Japanese motif, and Kate had gone home with a leg cramp from sitting on a pillow.
    Now she headed for her car. Everything was getting out of hand, yet the only solution she could think of at the moment was to retreat to McClary Hill. She'd have the house to herself and perhaps the solitude would inspire her. When she arrived, however, she found that Steven's Mercedes was back from the shop and parked in the driveway. Kate pulled up beside it, grateful not to see any dark green Jaguars.
    She'd been able to make at least one purchase this morning—two cans of paint stripper. She began lugging them toward the porch. A bee buzzed lazily past her into the garden, distracting her for a moment. Weeds had taken over all the flower beds; only a few hardy rosebushes still flourished, growing wild now. The stone fountain was mournfully dry, with a stone sailing ship beached on a pedestal in its center. She'd have to do something about all this neglect. Everywhere she turned, another part of the house begged for her attention. Somehow she had to find enough money to provide the right care.
    Kate's arms were aching as she toiled up the steps of the porch. The front door swung open in front of her, and there was Steven. Her eyes began at the toes of his running shoes, traveled up the lean length of his jeanclad legs, stopped at the faded blue cotton that strained across his shoulders.
    "On your way out?" she said hopefully to his chest as she backed away.
    "As a matter of fact, no." He took the heavy cans from her and set them inside the door.
    "Mrs. Adler said you'd be working in your office all weekend."
    "I changed my mind."
    "I see." Kate straightened a crease on her canvas pants. "Well… I hope you had a good time last night at your fund-raiser," she said insincerely.
    "It was fair," he said. "Nothing special. I had Gloria drop me back here early so I could study some contracts."
    "I see." Good grief, Kate berated herself, couldn't she think of anything else to say? But her heart was lightened with the knowledge that Gloria had not completely dazzled Steven. She found herself grinning foolishly at him.
    "Where are those shutters that needed hanging?" he asked.
    "What?"
    "Shutters. Those things you hang outside windows—"
    "You're not supposed to do any work on the house," Kate protested.
    "It's my house. If I want to hang shutters, that's what I'll do."
    "I didn't mean it that way," she said, poking her sneaker at a pile of old boards. "I mean—if you
want
to work on the house, fine. But you don't have to. I take full responsibility for the job I set out for myself—"
    "Kate," Steven said with a sigh, "where are the shutters?"
    An hour or so later Kate sat back from stripping the wainscoting in the library, glad to see that she was right about it. The natural grain was going to look beautiful in here. She stood up and stretched, gratified at how easy it was to work with Steven close by. She went over to the window, listening to the cheerful sound of nails being hammered into wood. Equally cheery was the sound of whistling. Goodness, the man whistled Mozart? Kate smiled; her financial problems were beginning to fade into the background. She resumed stripping paint.
    She was deeply engrossed when Steven poked his head inside the room. "Lunch is served," he announced. "Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes." He disappeared before she could say anything. Mystified, she cleaned up in the washroom and then went to see what he was concocting.
    It turned out to be a giant, impressive-looking omelet. Kate breathed in the aroma of onions and chives.
    "I didn't know you could cook," she said, taking two plates from the cupboard. "That smells wonderful."
    "I have a few