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“Is there anything else you would like to tell me about you and Kate?” Matt asked directly, determined to find out the details of their relationship.
“No,” Tate snapped. This time Matt was sure there was something to tell.
“Tate, I’m going to be honest with you. With expert medical opinion on our side, the hospital has no intention of settling this lawsuit. Which means that the Webers’ attorneys are going to start digging, if they haven’t already. They are going to talk your friends, nurses, residents, your colleagues, anyone, in the hope of finding something seemingly improper in your and Kate’s actions that night. So if your goal is to protect your privacy, the best way to do that is to tell me exactly what your relationship with Kate Spence is and what happened that night. If you tell me the truth, I can find a way keep this out of court.” Matt seemed to have gotten somewhere with his direct attack, because Tate grimaced and leaned forward in his chair, his arms on his desk. Matt recognized the haunted look in his eyes.
“Katherine and I had been involved in a personal relationship. It ended six months ago,” Tate stated flatly. Surprising how a statement, which revealed next to nothing and contained what he already knew, still felt like a sucker punch. Once again his feelings towards Tate shifted. Any burgeoning thoughts of liking the man came to an abrupt end and he felt a masochistic need to know more.
“You are going to need to do better than that,” Matt replied, unable to keep his tone neutral.
“Fine. Katherine and I had been seeing each for a year and a half,” Tate answered, still barely budging on what Matt needed to know, more personally than professionally.
“Was it serious?” That was as close as he could get to asking if they had been lovers.
“For one of us.” Matt didn’t want to hear any more. He had made some very hard decisions years ago with regard to Kate. Decisions he had justified as being the best for her. Now to hear that instead of living the perfect life he had hoped for her, Kate had fallen in love with a man who hadn’t loved her back was a bitter pill to swallow. More so when he thought of the way she had reacted when the two men had been introduced; she still loved Tate even though he didn’t love her.
Matt studied the man sitting across from him, but then realized, to be honest; he had let Kate go too. So he wasn’t any better, despite his intentions. He then straightened in his chair and began a new resolve to remain professional and get through this meeting before he said or did something he would regret.
“Six months ago. So the time your relationship ended was the same time of Mr. Weber’s death? If the two events are linked, I need to know.” Matt noticed Tate’s attitude change from adversarial to sad; maybe the man realized what he had given up. Tate’s shoulders had fallen and he no longer looked at Matt. Time passed and Matt thought Tate wasn’t going to answer. Then he heard a deep breath and a less assured voice started.
“Kate and I broke up the same night Mr. Weber died. We saw each other earlier in the evening and later that same night she was called into the hospital to cover for one of the other senior surgery residents who had to leave with the transplant team. I was on second call for Vascular Surgery.”
“What was her state of mind?” Matt asked, his worry for Kate, even past Kate, taking precedence.
“I think you should ask her that,” Tate answered.
“I’m asking you. I need to know the impression she gave that night.”
“She had been surprised. She said she hadn’t seen it coming.” He was nodding, as if remembering the evening and confirming to himself how it had been.
“Then?” More and more this felt like watching a car accident in slow motion when you knew it was not going to end well but you couldn’t look away.
“She was the most upset I had ever seen her and she left.” Was that regret he heard in Tate’s voice? But before he could examine the thought further, Tate was continuing. “However, when I saw Katherine later in the operating room and throughout all of our medical interactions that night she was one hundred percent professional and composed.”
So Tate was going to back and defend Kate. That was going to make the case easier to defend, but Matt wondered about what was motivating the gesture. Was it professionalism, honesty, guilt from breaking off their relationship or part of a plan to win her back?
“Can you explain the time lag between her first attempt to contact you and the response?” Matt asked. Gone was any desire he had to continue this conversation. He actually wanted to leave and get away from the memories of Kate that were filling his mind. Kate with that look of shock and pain filling her eyes. Had she looked the same for Tate?
“Katherine had been surprised. I honestly don’t think She had expected anything that happened that night. After she left my loft and things started to sink in, she wanted to talk. She called and I told her there was nothing more to discuss. She called a few more times shortly after that and I ignored her calls. A few hours later when she called on my cellphone to discuss Mr. Weber, I didn’t realize her focus had shifted and I again ignored her attempts to talk to me. It wasn’t until the hospital operator contacted me and patched her through that I learned about Mr. Weber.”
“Does anyone else know the details of that night?”
“The only close friend Katherine confides in is Chloe Darcy.”
“So Chloe is a friend of both of yours?” Matt asked, trying to understand what role Chloe Darcy had played.
“I met Chloe through Katherine. We used to spend time together as part of a social group prior to the breakup.”
“And now?”
“She is Katherine’s best friend. Chloe and I have never talked about that night. I’m not sure what Katherine told her, but Chloe would never do or say anything to deliberately hurt Katherine, that I’m sure of.” Matt believed him. Chloe was obviously protective of Kate and he had instinctively liked and trusted her. At least Kate had one person in her life she could depend on.
“Do you think Kate has any reason to want to hurt you?” Matt pried.
“I don’t understand your question, Mr. McKayne.”
“Please, call me Matt. The other day Kate seemed very concerned about you and your well-being. Do you think she will vouch for your actions as clearly as you are for her?”
“Absolutely. Katherine is nothing if not honest. That night she told me she wanted desperately to be with me, to be in love with me, and I believed her. I don’t think any amount of time will change that.” He didn’t sound arrogant and that disheartened Matt much more than the statement had.
“I would appreciate it if, when you talk to her, you could spare her the same discussion we have just had. I think the only reason this situation has developed is that the hospital gossip mill put together the timing of our break-up and Mr. Weber’s death. We were both completely professional in our behavior that night and the hospital switchboard reached me within appropriate professional standards.” Tate was ending their conversation and stood from his chair.
Matt conceded and stood. He paused and studied Tate’s face, but the other man gave nothing away. The meeting had only generated more questions for him than answers. It had confirmed what he already knew, that Kate and Tate had been a couple. For a year and a half Tate had had Kate, and even though they had now broken up, he still had Kate. The fact that, after breaking up with her, Kate was still defending him spoke volumes about the type of man Tate was. He wanted to hate the man but couldn’t, despite the jealousy that was growing inside him.
The sane part of his mind also recognized that Kate still loved and trusted Tate, and Kate didn’t do either of those things easily. She was introverted and cautious, which made her actions towards Tate even more telling. What would happen when this was done? Would they find their way back to one another? Would Tate realize what he had given up and want her back? He needed to talk to Kate and he couldn’t wait one more day for his answers. The one thing Tate was definitely right about: Kate and Tate was a nauseating combo, and not just the rhyming names.
It took Kate another ten hours to complete her mental list of tasks. She had worked one of the hardest shifts in her career and she hadn’t cared. She’d wanted to work, to stay busy, to avoid everything, including her own thoughts.
After going to work an hour early the previous day at five a.m., she had worked through the day, the night and well into the next evening, and it was nine o’clock on Friday night before she was ready to finally leave the building. She was exhausted, and it actually felt a relief to have that as her primary state of mind.
She yawned as she pulled off her scrubs and pulled on the same jeans and fitted long-sleeved blue shirt she had arrived in the previous day. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and put her watch on. If she hurried she could force herself to eat something and be asleep by ten. If she slept well she might actually have the focus to study tomorrow and not think about her impending meeting with Matt.
Kate walked out of the women’s locker room and literally ran into Tate leaving the men’s change room. She bounced off his lean frame and had to grasp the wall for support. She didn’t realize whom she had hit and he looked equally surprised as she caught the moment when he recognized her. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly.
He reached out to steady her, grasping her forearms and holding her until she regained her balance and straightened. “Katherine. I heard you did well last night.” His tone was genuine, without the anger or hurt she had come to expect. She couldn’t disguise the surprise she felt. For the first time since that night, the tension between them was gone. He wasn’t the warm Tate she had loved, but this was better than it had been, and probably better than she deserved. She blushed, embarrassed by his kindness.
“Thank you. Your opinion means a lot to me,” she replied shakily. Her exhaustion made it hard to control the feelings of relief and loss she associated with her new and old relationship with Tate.
“I spoke with our lawyer, Matt McKayne, today.”
No! her mind screamed as she reached out and grasped the wall for support. She studied his face and saw no signs that he knew about her past with Matt. He would be hurt and disgusted with her if he knew. It was sickening to think about the two men together. For different reasons, she hadn’t been good enough for either of them, and the thought of them discussing that fact was like a hot poker ripping through her chest. They had both been witness to her greatest inadequacies and she would rather die than have either man share their “Kate Spence” story.
“It’s okay, Katherine. I told him the truth. That you are a professional, competent surgeon and that nothing in your actions that night was negligent. He knew about us, though, and was asking the details of our relationship and breakup.”
She went from panic, to relief, to anger, to fear within seconds. Matt had no right to ask about her relationship with Tate. He really had no right to ask Tate about her at all. What questions would he have for her? “What did you tell him?” She gulped.
“As much of the truth as he needed to know, while protecting both of our personal lives and reputations.” She didn’t need to know more. Tate would keep the personal details of their breakup to himself, for his own sake as much as hers.
“Thank you.”
He stared at her, his thoughts hidden as he looked at her for an unknown answer. “Goodnight, Katherine. If it’s okay by you I think I’m going to use Kate from here on in, like everyone else.”
She smiled a little sadly. “I’m just happy you are planning to talk to me.”
“Good night, Kate.” The conversation was definitely over and Tate walked away. She wondered what had changed for him, but honestly didn’t care what the impetus had been for what felt like the forgiveness she didn’t deserve.
She walked through the halls of the hospital lost in her thoughts. The overhead fluorescent lights reflected off the linoleum floors as she made her way towards the glass-walled lobby. Her head felt as full as her body felt exhausted. She was grateful that she had put Matt off, even if it was only for a day. She paused at the entryway, threading her arms through the sleeves of her black wool jacket and slowly working the buttons closed to protect her from what appeared to be a cold spring night.
“Kate.” In what felt like slow motion she turned towards the voice she recognized. Matt was walking towards her. He was dressed in a dark gray suit with a blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly. She felt her breath catch and a flush spread through her, her body recognizing his with appreciation. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the mess that had been tied back and stuffed under an operating-room cap all day, then stopped, catching herself in the action. It didn’t matter to Matt how she looked and she no longer cared what he thought, she reminded herself.
“Matt.” She forced his name out.
“We need to talk.”
He looked agitated. If you didn’t know him you wouldn’t be able to tell, but she had known him well and recognized the subtle force in his voice and his rigid posture.
“Yes, I believe we have a meeting for tomorrow at two.” She didn’t have the energy to play this game. Whatever Matt had come to say to her tonight, he needed to say it and let her go home.
“I met with Tate Reed today.” The statement reminded her of old legal dramas where the prosecutor baited his witness into revealing information without even asking a question.
“Yes, I know. I already talked to Tate. It appears he has already answered many of your questions about the circumstances behind the lawsuit, and other than that we have nothing to talk about.” She tried to sound like her professional, confident self and force out the exhaustion and pain that made her feel unprepared to deal with Matt. He needed to know her boundaries and now was as good a time as any to make it clear what was off-limits for discussion. He didn’t seem pleased with her answer.
“I don’t care about Tate Reed,” Matt said. Now he was definitely angry. Part of her told herself to walk away, that she wouldn’t win, not against Matt and not when she was this tired. Unfortunately, the same exhaustion allowed her emotions to take over.
“You seemed to care the other night. You also seemed to care enough when you talked to Tate and asked him questions that are none of your business,” she responded, matching his anger in her tone.
“Like it or not, Kate, you are my business.” Mistake. She had made a critical mistake in challenging him. Now they were on a path she didn’t want to be on. She didn’t want to talk about them, about their past, yet couldn’t hold back her reaction to his statement or the look in his eyes. He was looking at her with passion and the irony made her want to cry.
“It has never mattered what I thought or felt, has it?” She was done with being professional as she felt her personal pain seep through. She met his look and saw that she had wounded him, and it didn’t make her feel any better.
“That’s not true, Kate.” His hands were jammed in his pockets, his shoulders pulled back, his whole stance masculine and set.
She looked at Matt and briefly remembered the girl she had been and the man she had thought he was. For the second time that night she smiled sadly then regained control of the woman she had become. “I’m not going to do this, Matt.”
“Do what?” he asked, but she kept talking.
“I’m not going to talk about the past. It happened a long time ago and it doesn’t matter, I’ve moved on with my life, without you.”
“I don’t believe you.” And then he reached out and took her hand in his and held it hard. The touch was electric. Warmth spread through her whole body and she felt her heart start to race. She stared for a long time at his face, meshing in her mind the two versions of him. Old Matt and this Matt.
“Believe what you want, it doesn’t matter to me,” she sighed, pushing away the memories that statement brought forward. “Please, let go of my hand, I’m tired and I want to go home.” He didn’t look like he was going to let go, he just kept staring at her as if she was a puzzle he could figure out. “Please, Matt.”
He released her hand. “I’m parked out front. I’ll drive you home.”
“No, thank you.” She’d had about all the quality Matt time that she could handle and would rather walk the entire length of Boston than risk spending more time with him.
“Kate, if you don’t want a scene, just get in the car and let me drive you home.” It was a statement more than a threat, but coming from Matt it got her attention.
This was not the Matt she had known. She had never seen Matt lose control. He had always been calm and in control of everything, but not now. One look at his face told her to listen. His eyes were boring into her, his jaw was clenched, and she saw the small tremor that seemed to be traveling through his body. She looked around the lobby, the fluorescent lights creating an unnatural contrast to the darkness that seeped in through the glass wall from the outside. The atrium was still well populated with hospital staff, sufficient that if a scene did occur, she would be back as the number-one topic for the hospital gossips. That, combined with the look on Matt’s face, that said he just might do it, and her overwhelming fatigue forced her to give in. “Okay.”
She had lost the fight, and her resignation kept her from pulling away when he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out the hospital’s front entrance. His hand spanned almost the entire width of her back. Even through her coat and sweater she could still feel his warmth and the sense of protection she had always felt around Matt. She was surprised that feeling hadn’t vanished from its association with him.
A car door was being opened in front of her and she got in, barely registering the car’s luxury name and features. Once inside, she sank into the deep pocket of the leather seat. Matt got in the driver’s side and started the engine. The air from the heating system was like warm milk to her exhaustion. He reached over and turned on her seat warmer. She didn’t fight the strong urge to close her eyes, it seemed the better option to having to look at or make conversation with Matt.
She rolled over, her mind barely registering the soft pillow under her head. It wasn’t until she felt the friction of the sheet against her bare abdomen and the weight spanning her body that she realized something was wrong, very wrong. She opened her eyes and found herself looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. It was a high ceiling, white, crossed with dark wooden beams. She didn’t need to look to her side to know what she would find. She had always been able to sense his presence before she actually saw him.
How had she ended up here? She felt vulnerable; she was still incredibly tired, and couldn’t remember how she had ended up at what she knew must be Matt’s apartment. She moved again and processed that she was naked, apart from her bra and underwear. She flushed, both embarrassed and angry that Matt had taken it upon himself to undress her, that she had slept through it all, and, worst of all, that Matt had seen the dark purple lace thong and matching bra that had never been intended for anyone else’s eyes.
Anger became her dominant emotion as she turned to look at Matt, who was asleep on top of the blankets with one arm extended across her. That explained the weight. He was wearing a ragged university T-shirt and jeans and looked too much like the old Matt, her Matt. As if on cue, he opened his eyes, and a few inches away she saw the familiar blue eyes that looked softer than she had seen them since their reunion. Her heart fluttered and she forgot her anger.
He didn’t say anything, and she was too overwhelmed with memories of the past to tear her eyes from his, still trying to understand the man she’d once thought she knew. His eyes didn’t have the answers, only more questions that he seemed to have for her. She watched as he propped himself up on one arm and his other hand moved from her waist to the side of her face, his wide palm spanning her cheek, his fingers in her hair. His eyes changed then, darkening as his pupils widened and his mouth came down on hers.
It started as a soft kiss, his lips brushing against hers. Then he pressed deeper and the pressure of his lips, the stubble brushing against her face, his hand pulling her towards him, was all-encompassing. She opened her mouth in shock and felt his tongue slip inside as he deepened the kiss. Instantly she was on fire, she could feel, smell, taste everything about him, and it inspired a passion that she hadn’t felt in so long. She felt alive. She felt like herself.
Her arms reached up to wrap around him, her sudden movement causing him to move on top of her and crush her. The weight of his body on hers heightened her desire; he felt incredible and she responded to his kiss, her tongue matching his with an increasing sense of urgency. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer and closer, desperately wanting to have no space, no air, nothing between them, nothing that could stop this feeling. She felt a sense of panic when she felt him lift himself from her slightly, but was rewarded when he pulled away the blankets that covered her and came back down on her.
Every part of her body yearned to be touched by him. Her breasts felt heavy and a steady throb pulsed between her thighs. She moved her hands down his wide shoulders and muscular back, feeling his hard muscles tremble in response. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and struggled to pull it over his head, until he sat up and removed the offending garment. She couldn’t stand to be separated from him even for that moment, and sat up to press herself against his kneeling form. He hauled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. She wrapped her arms around him again, feeling her breasts crush against his chest as much as they could within their constraint.
His hand swept her hair to one side as his mouth came down along the side of her neck. He licked, kissed and tasted the low part of her neck just above her collarbone and she arched her head back in response. She needed more, wanted more, wanted to ease the large ache that was growing inside her, and she moved her pelvis forward and ground into his. She was rewarded as his hard ridge pressed into her. Then she felt a new release as her bare breasts collided against his chest, her bra having been unfastened and pulled away. One hand closed over her breast, his thumb stroking the already erect and sensitized nipple.
The other hand grasped the bare bottom that her thong exposed, trapping her against him and echoing her need to push into him. It quickly became not enough, and he pulled away and bent his head to kiss her breasts, his tongue reaching her nipples, taking time to encircle and draw each into his mouth. She pulled open his jeans, the zipper falling from the pressure of him. Her hand reached in to touch him, and she felt him contract against her.
Two hands then grasped her hips and she was moved from her straddled position. She looked up in shock but the same heat that she felt was mirrored in his eyes. She watched as he removed his jeans and boxers, leaving just him. He was fully aroused and everything about him was masculine perfection. He rejoined her on the bed and gently pushed her onto her back against the pillows. She bent her knees and spread her legs, wanting him between.
His hands tangled in her hair as he returned to kissing her, the head of his shaft now rubbing against the damp purple lace between her legs. It was the best form of torture, one where you wanted to stop because the pleasure was too intense, but at the same time knew the release would be more than worth the progression, and that was what made it unforgettable. His hand skimmed her body and ventured towards her inner thighs. She felt the lace move slightly, as his finger caressed her crease and pushed inside. She knew she was wet, and even though the penetration was not the part of him she desperately wanted inside her, she still contracted her muscles around him, both for her satisfaction and to tempt him.