Friday's Child by Kylie Brant Page B

do,” she replied, slipping into her jacket. As Chloe whistled again, her pace quickened.
    Michael’s hand beat hers to the doorknob, halting her escape. “Coward,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear.
    Kate turned her head and looked at him uncertainly. What was he referring to? Her hasty departure or her refusal of his dinner invitation? His body seemed to surround her, even though they weren’t touching, and he felt like a furnace. The warmth lured her; all she would have to do was lean back afraction of an inch and she’d be pressed against him, would feel that heat firsthand. She held herself rigid.
    â€œAm I going to have to send the whistler home to serenade you, or are you going to have dinner with me?” he asked.
    She slid a glance at Chloe, who looked ready to launch into another high-pitched noise. The idea occurred to her that her opportunities to speak to Michael were diminishing as Chloe’s room neared completion. And she very much wanted to find out if he was any closer to taking her advice about making a doctor’s appointment for his daughter.
    Her gaze met his. His eyes were alight with purpose, and she knew that he had never accepted her refusal; giving up wasn’t something this man would do easily.
    â€œWhat do you say, Kate?” he asked again.
    His gaze tracked her lips as they formed the words.
    â€œI say…yes.”
    Â 
    Kate had ample time to regret her decision as she got dressed that evening. Michael’s nearness must have overpowered her usually logical thinking processes, she decided. She should have set up a conference at school to discuss Chloe with him, although with his propensity for missed appointments, it was just as likely that he would forget it. She and Chloe were almost done with her bedroom, and there was only one more week of school left. After that, she would never have occasion to see Michael again. She owed it to the little girl to push aside her uneasiness at being alone with Michael and use the opportunity to discuss his decision with him.
    She’d never been to the restaurant Michael had mentioned, but she’d heard about it. It had a reputation for outstanding food, outrageous prices and snooty waiters. The narrow black dress she’d selected was the dressiest thing she owned. It had long sleeves and a scooped neckline and was made from a fabric that skimmed but didn’t cling. She picked up two jet combs and fastened her hair back on both sides. Casting one last doubtful eye at her reflection, Kate left the bedroom before she could change her mind, and her clothes, again.
    The pounding on her front door heralded Michael’s arrival. She opened the door, and conscious thought deserted her.
    She’d gotten used to seeing him in jeans and sneakers. She thought the casual wear must accentuate his strength, make him appear bigger, tougher, more dangerous. She’d been wrong.
    The double-breasted gray suit he was wearing had to have been tailor-made for his muscled form. It fit his wide chest and shoulders to perfection. The white shirt and muted tie should have lent him an air of tamed civility. It failed to do so. Though his unruly tawny hair had been forced to a semblance of order, and he’d apparently recently shaved, he looked no less lethal. More so, really. All that power and presence forced into a polished package gave him a barely leashed energy that fairly crackled in the air between them.
    Swallowing convulsively, Kate took an involuntary step backward. Michael followed, stepping into her hallway and immediately shrinking the area with his size.
    His hazel eyes reflected the admiration in his voice. “You look fantastic.”
    So do you, she thought a little wildly. Murmuring her thanks, she turned blindly to the closet, staring at the contents without seeing them. This was a mistake, a huge one. What had she been thinking? It would have been infinitely safer to confer about Chloe at