IN SEARCH OF DREAMS Read online

  "If you'd like, you can park your car under the porte cochere," she called to him as he climbed the front steps. "It's more convenient than the garage in bad weather. That's a distance beyond the house and I keep it locked all the time, but if you prefer to garage your Jeep I'll get you a key."

  "The porte cochere will do fine. Thanks."

  J.T. made several more trips to the car and back. Each time Kate tried not to look at him, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. There was something about that devilish smile and chiseled good looks and that drew the eyes like steel shavings to a magnet. That killer body and easy, hip-rolling saunter didn't hurt any, either, she admitted ruefully.

  Feeling foolish, Kate attacked her work with renewed vigor when he drove the Jeep around to the side under the porte cochere and disappeared inside for the last time. "If you don't get a grip, my girl, it's going to be a long six months," she muttered, stabbing the blade of the shovel into the pile of compost.

  Full darkness had fallen, and she was working by the dim glow of the front porch light by the time she finished. Already the temperature had dropped to a bone-chilling level. Exertion had kept Kate warm while she worked, but when she paused to rest a moment and arch her back, the cold seeped in, and a hard shiver rippled through her. With an exhausted sigh, she trundled the empty wheelbarrow and shovel around the house and back up the incline to the garage. When they were stored, she padlocked the garage and hurried to the house.

  An hour later, showered and dressed in a navy turtleneck sweater and gray wool slacks, Kate stepped out of her room and headed for the stairs.

  Her room was on the same side of the house as J.T.'s, but at the opposite end of the long hall, overlooking the back terrace and outbuildings.

  At the head of the stairs Kate paused and glanced toward J.T.'s room. Wall sconces cast dim pools of light at intervals along the corridor, but there were no signs of life from that end, no sounds, no light coming from under his door.

  Had he fallen asleep? she wondered. Or had he gone out?

  The last thought brought an uneasy tightness to her chest, but she ignored it and continued down the stairs.

  Reaching the first floor, Kate noticed light spilling from the library and heard the soft rustle of paper. She found J.T. sitting at her father's desk, poring over a book and scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.

  The desk lamp cast his strong features in planes of light and shadows. The sleeves of his pullover were pushed up, exposing muscular forearms covered with a dusting of short, dark hair. Around his neck he wore a silver chain, but it disappeared beneath his sweater to nestle in the dark thatch that peeked out of the V neck of the garment. His shoulders were broad and his brown hair slightly mussed where he'd unconsciously winnowed his fingers through it as he read.

  He was utterly masculine and appealing. More than any man had a right to be, Kate decided.

  J.T. was so engrossed in the book he didn't notice her standing in the doorway. She debated whether or not to say something or clear her throat to get his attention, but in the end she left him to his work and went to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

  Half an hour later, steaming biscuits and the stew that had been simmering all day in the slow cooker sat on a warming tray on the buffet and a place had been set for J.T. at the dining table. Kate lingered in the dining room to make sure he had everything he needed before returning to the kitchen, but when he hadn't shown up by ten after seven she went back to the library.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt, but dinner is ready," she said quietly from the doorway.

  He looked up and blinked at her, like someone coming out of a daze. "What?"

  "Dinner. It's on the buffet in the dining room. You can help yourself."

  "Oh, yeah, right. Dinner. Be right there," he said in a distracted voice, but even before the words were out of his mouth his attention reverted to the book.

  Kate waited, watching him, but he made no effort to move. She doubted he even realized that she was still there. Finally she shook her head and left.

  Minutes later he looked up, startled, when she returned and placed a tray on the desk beside his elbow. "What's this?"

  "Your dinner. Normally I only serve meals in the dining room, but since you obviously can't tear yourself away from whatever you're reading, I'm making an exception this once."

  He grinned as she poured iced tea from a small pitcher and adjusted the dishes and silverware just so on the lacy placemat. "Thanks, but you didn't have to go to so much trouble."

  "It's no trouble. Well, not much, anyway." Kate moved the tiny individual salt and pepper shakers closer to his bowl, and stepped back, then darted forward again to smooth out a fold in the napkin. "I couldn't very well let you go hungry."

  He seemed to find her nervous perfectionism amusing. The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes twinkled at her. "I appreciate that."

  "Yes, well, you'd better eat before it gets cold."

  Obediently he took a bite of stew, and his eyes widened. "Oh, man, this is delicious. I think I'm in love."

  Before she realized his intent, he grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek. His skin was warm and his five-o'clock shadow prickled against her palm. A wave of heat raced up her arm, making the fine hairs there stand on end.

  "Now that I've tasted your cooking, you have to marry me, Katy," he declared solemnly, rubbing his bristly cheek against her palm. "I'll die of starvation if you don't. You've ruined me for ordinary food."

  Flustered, but determined to maintain her dignity, Kate pulled her hand free and eyed him coolly. "I doubt that. It's just a simple stew."

  "Not to a bachelor who's used to eating TV dinners or restaurant food. The only thing that would make this meal better is a little company. Why don't you pull up a chair and join me?"

  "I'm sorry, but I've already eaten," she lied, backing away. "Besides, I wouldn't want to interrupt your research. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to clean the kitchen and call it a day. Please feel free to work in here as long as you like. All I ask is that you put your dishes in the sink and turn out the lights when you're done." Not quite able to meet those laughing eyes, she bade him good-night and turned to leave.

  "Night, Katy."

  Kate ground her teeth. She had intended to make a quick exit, but at the door she turned and fixed him with a stern look. "My name is Kate. Not Katy. I hate to be called Katy."

  J.T. threw back his head and laughed, a rich, robust sound that sent a tingle down her spine. "I'll remember that."

  * * *

  The next morning J.T. was halfway down the stairs when he caught a whiff of fresh-brewed coffee. In desperate need of a jolt of caffeine, he picked up speed and followed the aroma trail like a bloodhound.

  His nose led him to the dining room. A warming tray on the sideboard held several covered dishes, but it was the coffeepot that caught his eye the instant he stepped through the doorway.

  "Bless you, Kate," he murmured, making a beeline for the sideboard. On the first sip he groaned and closed his eyes. Whatever else she was, the woman made one helluva cup of coffee.

  He was still savoring the brew when he turned around and focused on the table for the first time. It was an exquisite piece, made of solid cherry and long enough to seat twenty people. Currently, though, only one place was set for breakfast.

  J.T. frowned. What the devil was this?

  Following faint sounds, he pushed through the swinging door at the back of the dining room and found himself in the butler's pantry. He walked through the narrow, cabinet-lined room to another swinging door at the other end. Using one finger, he pushed it open a crack.

  Kate sat at the kitchen table, muttering something and writing on a tablet while she ate breakfast. Alone.

  J.T.'s eyes narrowed. Oh, no you don't, sweetheart. Not on your life. You're not keeping me at arm's length that easily.

  * * *

  "Call Lewis Goodman and insist that he deliver firewood," Kate murmured to herself, add
ing the note to her list of chores for the day. "Make a pie. Polish banisters. Finish composting." Trying to think of what else she needed to do, she paused to take a sip of coffee, then jumped and nearly choked when J.T. pushed through the pantry door with a cheery, "Morning, Kate."

  "Mr. Conway!" She shot to her feet, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. The last thing she'd expected was for him to come barging into her kitchen. "Uh … do you need something?"

  "Yeah. Some company."

  Only then did she notice that he carried a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage and biscuits in one hand and in the other a cup of coffee and utensils. Before she could react, he placed everything on the kitchen table and pulled out a chair.

  "Wh-what are you doing?"

  "Joining you for breakfast. You don't mind, do you?" he asked with an ingenious smile.

  "Uh, actually guests eat in the dining room."

  "Ah, but I like this better," he said, casting an admiring glance around. "Not that your dining room isn't nice, mind you. It is. This is just more cozy. But we can eat in the dining room, if that's what you prefer."

  "We? Oh, no. You don't understand. I meant just you. The dining room is for guests."

  "Ah, c'mon, Kate, it's just plain silly for me to have my meals alone at that banquet table like some aristocrat, while you eat alone in here."

  His chiding tone brought her chin up. "I'm sorry that you don't agree with my policy, but—"

  "Oh, I'll admit it's probably a good policy when it comes to overnighters. I can see where you might not want to get too chummy with people who are just passing through, but in this case it's just not practical. Kate, we're going to be sharing this house for the next six months. It'll be a lot more comfortable for both of us if we don't stand on ceremony."

  Maybe for him, but she wasn't at all sure she could ever feel comfortable around him. Just having him in her kitchen had her nerves jumping.

  J.T. flashed a grin. "Oh, sweetheart, you really are priceless. Surely you didn't think that for six months we would just exchange polite hellos when we passed on the stairs now and then?"

  That was exactly what she'd thought, and she could see by his amused expression that he had read as much in her eyes.

  "Kate. Kate. And I suppose in the evenings you expect me to use the formal parlor while you sit across the hall in the family parlor." He shook his head. "No way, sweetheart. Trust me. It just ain't gonna happen."

  His eyes twinkled as he leaned closer and touched her cheek. Kate started, but he merely smiled. His forefinger trailed over her skin, leaving a prickly line of fire in its wake, but all she could do was stare at him.

  His voice dropped to a coaxing murmur. "So why don't you just forget about your rules and relax, hmm? Don't think of me as a guest. Think of me as a roommate. A pal. We'll keep each other company over the winter and get to know each other. I promise you won't be sorry. I'm a really likable guy. Cross my heart," he vowed with comical sincerity, drawing an X on his chest with his other hand.

  Kate had no doubt that he was. That was a big part of the problem. She considered herself a sensible woman, but she also knew that she was lonely, and therefore vulnerable. J.T. was the kind of man who could blithely traipse through her life and steal her heart without even trying. Probably without being aware of doing so.

  It was a demoralizing thought, and she nearly groaned. Nevertheless it was true.

  Other than his flirtatious manner, which Kate suspected was merely part of his personality, he had not given any indication that he was interested in more than friendship. Yet just beneath the surface, a strong current of awareness sizzled between them. Kate felt it whenever they were together, and she knew that J.T. did, as well.

  On the surface his offer of companionship seemed innocent enough, even a positive thing, but she wondered how much exposure to J.T.'s charm and blatant sexiness she could survive and still remain heart-whole.

  One thing was certain, she wasn't interested in finding out the hard way.

  As much as she yearned to love and be loved, to have someone who would always be there for her, no matter what, she had been burned too badly once before. She wasn't ready yet to risk another serious romance, or even a casual love affair. Even if she were, she'd be a fool to consider J.T. as a candidate. Come spring, he would go on his merry way, and she'd be left with a broken heart. Again.

  As solitary and lonely as her life was, it was preferable to that sort of pain.

  However, keeping J.T. at a distance did not seem to be an option. It appeared that her only other defense was to become a casual friend and hope she could keep things light between them.

  J.T.'s gaze dropped to his caressing finger as it touched the corner of her mouth and lingered there.

  Kate's breath caught. The tiny reaction did not escape him. His smile deepened, and for an instant she thought she saw something flare in his eyes. However, when his gaze lifted to hers once again they twinkled with good humor. "So what do you say? Deal?"

  Tipping her head back, Kate broke contact with that tormenting finger and gave him an arch look. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Not really," he replied with such cheerful cockiness that she had to fight back a smile of her own. "And now that we have that settled, whadda ya say we eat? I'm starving."

  Grinning, he held her chair for her. Left with little choice, Kate reluctantly resumed her seat.

  She kept her gaze on her plate and tried not to fidget. She wasn't used to having someone in her kitchen, or to sharing mealtime with anyone.

  For several minutes neither spoke as they applied themselves to the meal. Or at least, J.T. did. Kate was too tense to eat another bite. She merely moved the remains of her breakfast around on the plate and wondered how she had lost control of the situation so quickly.

  J.T. was one of those men who thoroughly enjoyed dining and savored every bite. For all his slender build, he consumed an amazing amount of food. Like most women who enjoyed cooking, Kate liked to see a man with a hearty appetite, and despite her skittering nerves, when he complimented her on the meal, she experienced a rush of pleasure.

  "Thank you," she replied, stiffly. "My mother taught me. She was an excellent cook."

  Pausing to take a sip of coffee, J.T. looked around. "This really is a magnificent home." He leaned back, sipping his coffee and took another, longer look, taking in the brick floors and massive beams that spanned the ceiling, the tall walnut cabinets and copper pots hanging above granite-topped counters and, finally, the cheery fire dancing in the kitchen fireplace. "How long have you owned it?"

  "Actually, my brother and I own the house jointly. We inherited it four years ago when our mother passed away."

  "Really? Excuse me for saying so, but I didn't realize mining engineers made that kind of money. A place like this had to have cost a fortune."

  "When my family came here twenty-three years ago, the house had been sitting vacant for over thirty years. They bought it for a song."

  "You're kidding. A gorgeous place like this?"

  "Yes, well, the real estate market in Gold Fever has never been great. None of the Smithson heirs wanted it, no local could afford the place, and until my parents came along, no outsiders were interested in putting money into a hundred-plus-year-old mansion in a tiny mountain town miles from nowhere."

  "After being vacant so long, it must have needed a lot of work."

  "Yes, but mostly cosmetic. Structurally the house was sound. It was built out of granite during a time when craftsmanship and quality were the norm.

  "My parents did most of the work themselves. It took them almost thirteen years to complete the job." She smiled fondly, remembering. "I've lived here since I was six years old, and the whole time I was growing up we stepped over paint cans and drop cloths and dodged saw horses and ladders. There was always some part of the house being restored. I have fond memories of Mom and Dad working together, sanding the banisters and the wainscoting in the library, stripping musty wallpaper and refini
shing floors and woodwork and furniture."

  "They did a great job. But it's kind of a big house for a family of four, isn't it?"

  "Yes, but from the start, the plan was to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast after Dad retired and Zach and I were grown and gone."

  Kate's nostalgic mood faded. "The trouble was, he was killed in a mining accident before he had a chance to retire. He was just fifty-nine at the time."

  "I'm sorry. That must have been rough."

  "Yes. It was. Dad didn't have much life insurance, and the mining company that owned the Shamrock at that time declared bankruptcy before a settlement could be made, so what had been a retirement dream became a necessity for Mom. A few months after Dad died, she turned the house into a B&B."

  "I see. Your guests must love this place. I'll bet a lot of them come back year after year."

  "Yes, many do."

  J.T. looked around the room once more and mused, "A house this size must be a constant financial drain, though. Utilities alone must be staggering. It doesn't seem like it would be cost effective. Especially since you're not open year-round."

  Kate's spine stiffened. She fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare. "Is there some reason you're interested in my finances, Mr. Conway?"

  "Uh-oh, we're back to Mr. Conway, are we? Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy. Just a writer's natural curiosity. It's an occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

  "I see." She scrutinized him for several moments, but after a while she gradually relaxed. "I suppose that's understandable. Actually, operating expenses are not as much as you might think, thanks to an ingenious builder and my Dad's innovations. A hot spring supplies water and radiant heat throughout. Dad had the foresight to install solar panels all along the back side of the roof and there are three wind generators behind the barn. Between the two I have plenty of electricity, but there is also a backup generator for those few times when the stored energy runs low. The summers here are comfortably cool so there is no need for air-conditioning and little for heat, but the fireplaces in every room handle what there is. In the winter I am here alone, so I close off the empty bedrooms and heat just the parts of the house that I use."