without acknowledging the abyss that lay between them. "Ten years ago you left so fast that I never had a chance to say that...that I was sorry."
Her brown eyes turned black. "Don't worry, I knew that. You were always sorry."
He flinched as if she'd slapped him. There was a long, tense silence. Then she bowed her head and pressed her fingers to the middle of her forehead. "Sorry, Patrick. I shouldn't have said that. But I do not want to talk about this, now or ever."
She turned and walked away, her slim frame erect and unyielding. He drew a slow breath. Kate had only called him Patrick when she meant business, so the subject of their ill-fated marriage was permanently closed. He supposed he should be grateful.
Yet his mind could not be stopped as easily as the conversation. How many times had he dreamed of seeing her again? Even after she walked out on him, he'd been sure that if they could talk, if he could apologize, explain, everything would be all right. He'd searched for her with increasing urgency even after she filed for divorce.
Not until much later did he learn that she'd left immediately for San Francisco. He'd never had a chance of changing her mind once she decided the marriage was over. Typical Kate--a long period of tolerance and good nature until she reached the breaking point. Then she'd slammed the door shut forever.
Once he realized that, he'd shattered into bleeding pieces. If not for Sam, who'd treated him like a beloved son, he might not have survived. He probably would have ended by crashing his car into a lamp post at ninety miles an hour, like his old man had.
Now Kate was physically within touching distance, and emotionally further away than ever. His gaze followed her through the room as she moved from group to group, giving people the chance to tell her what Sam had meant to them.
Her black tailored suit was the exact opposite of what she'd been wearing the night they met. He'd been parking cars at the Maryland Cotillion Ball, where young ladies of good breeding were presented to society. When the job was offered, he'd been incredulous that such events still existed. He accepted because his college scholarship covered only tuition so he worked as many hours as he could spare to earn book and spending money. Besides, he was curious about how the other half lived.
The ball was held at a historic theater in midtown Baltimore. Though the location wasn't particularly glamorous, the guests made up for that. He got a kick out of watching proud fathers and anxious mothers arriving with their daughters. Since the evening had been mild for December, the debutantes didn't have to swaddle up like Eskimos. Even the plain girls glittered like diamonds in their pristine white dresses. He hadn't known Maryland had so many natural blondes.
That is, if they were natural blondes. He knew damned well that none of them were as innocent as they appeared. Most were college freshmen and there probably wasn't a virgin in the lot, but he enjoyed the illusion of a simpler, purer age.
The Corsis arrived in a limousine. Julia was all aristocratic elegance, while Sam radiated the confidence of success and wealth. And Kate knocked him for a loop from the instant she slid from the limo, her blond hair swooped up, her slim neck decorated with pearls that had to be real, and wearing a smile that warmed the winter night. Grace Kelly at eighteen and wearing a frothy, snow-white dress.
She was tallish, maybe five foot seven. A good height for him. He was so dazzled that he almost forgot to close the car door. Then Kate glanced over, not like a rich girl looking through a menial, but at him .
"Thanks." And she winked. For that instant he felt as if they were the only two people in the world.
He'd have followed her into the theater like a moth after a candle if her mother hadn't asked, "Did you remember your gloves, Kate?"
Kate stopped and stared at her bare hands with dismay. "No. Sorry, Mother, I left them at home. I'm