Remember the Time by Annette Reynolds Page B

Kate was finally able to speak and she said, “Sorry, Donna. I’ll have to call you back,” and hung up the phone. Kate sat for a few seconds longer, then, out loud, asked herself, “What did he say?”
    Kate sprang off the couch and paced the room, muttering to herself. “What did
that
mean?” She whirled toward the telephone and grabbed the receiver, then slammed it back down.
No! I will
not
call you!
Her wine glass still held some of the ruby Chianti and Kate polished it off as she stalked out of the den toward the kitchen. The dinner dishes were still piled in the sink and she tackled them with a manic fervor, but the work didn’t silence Mike’s words. Kate rinsed the final plate and, drying her hands on her jeans, deliberately strode down the hallway and out of her house.
    She didn’t bother to knock on his back door. Kate flipped on the kitchen light and swept through the house. “Michael James Fitzgerald!” she shouted, climbing the stairs.
    The light came on in the bedroom, and she heard him say, “Jesus! Kate?”
    Before he could move, she was in the room. “How
dare
you say something like that to me and then walk out!” Mike sat up in his bed, bare-chested. “And what the hell did you mean by that?” she demanded.
    “You’re a big girl, Kate. You know what I meant.” He leaned back against the headboard.
    “You get out of that bed this instant. I can’t talk to you like this.”
    He didn’t move.
    Her voice lowered, her words measured, she said, “Will you please get up.”
    Mike shrugged and threw off the covers. Rising to his full six feet, he stood in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue briefs.
    Kate blushed violently, and she hissed, “Put some clothes on!”
    His eyes narrowed. “You walk into my bedroom uninvited, you take the consequences.”
    “Thanks for the warning,” she stated. “I’ll be in the living room.”
    His voice followed her into the hallway and down the stairs. “And miss your chance to see my very nice ass up close and personal?”
    Kate yanked open the draperies and stared, unseeing, into the dark street. Her thoughts moved at the speed of sound. Her heart beat heavy and fast.
    The sight of Mike nearly naked had taken her breath away, but she wouldn’t admit it, even to herself. Instead, she tried to focus on the known feelings: outrage and fear. But she couldn’t pretend any longer. The quiet voice that, through the years, had whispered,
“You’ve made a mistake,”
was suddenly screaming to be heard.
“It’s been Mike all along.”
    Her hands flew up to cover her ears, as if that could block out the sound. She grew hot again, but this timewith guilt. Mike’s footsteps on the stairs warned her, and she lowered her hands to grip the windowsill.
    He sauntered into the living room a few seconds later. Flopping into a leather armchair, he said, “Let’s talk.”
    She turned from the window. He’d put on a pair of jeans. The faded denim shirt he wore was unbuttoned. His feet were bare. It was a moment before she could speak normally. “Explain to me just exactly what you meant.”
    “I meant just what I said. You’re the woman I committed myself to a long time ago.” His eyes held hers. “God help me.” She took a step toward him, stopped, and a look of confusion crossed her face. “What? Kate Armstrong speechless? I don’t believe it.”
    She sat on the ottoman in front of him. Slowly, as if trying to work it out in her mind, she said, “What you mean is, you’re my friend, and you feel obligated to take care of me.”
    “What I mean is, I love you.” His voice didn’t yield to the wistfulness he felt. It was stone.
    But Kate refused to hear the words the way he meant them. “I love you, too, Mike. You know that.”
    His jaw tightened. “As a friend,” he said.
    “Of course,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “You’re my best friend.”
    “Okay, Kate. You believe what you want to believe. But it’s getting