Free Heather Graham by Dante's Daughter Page B

ten-page spread on the Cougar. You go out there and get it now, okay? Sweet-talk the man. You’ll have him eating right out of your hand.”
    Yeah, sure! Katie thought bitterly. You sure as hell don’t know much about Kent Hart!
    “Katie, you with me, honey?”
    “Yes, I’m still here.”
    “Okay, honey. Do what you have to do, got it?”
    She took a deep breath, her anger simmering. “Are you suggesting I put my morals on the line, Raff?” she inquired coolly.
    “No, no, honey!” Raff protested over the wire. She heard his wary chuckle. “I’m just telling you to get the job done.”
    “Fine. I’ll do my best,” Katie said stiffly.
    “I’ll hear from you soon,” Raff closed. He didn’t add a good-bye, he just hung up.
    Katie slowly replaced the receiver. She lay back on the bed again and burst into tears.
    She thought she had buried her pain, but now it was with her again as so many things—memories, conflicting emotions, confusions—were all dredged up. Sometimes she felt as strong as steel. She had, she thought, learned to manage very well. Until today.
    Somehow, it had taught her all about emptiness again.

CHAPTER FOUR
    K ATIE WAS READY MUCH too early.
    Kent hadn’t really said where they were going, only that they would probably have brunch somewhere. That left her wondering if she had dressed properly. She shrugged as she scrutinized her reflection in the long mirror. She had donned a pair of maroon corduroy jeans and a soft white sweater with delicate embroidery about the neckline and sleeves. This was California—laid-back, she assured herself. She should be okay whether they roughed it or wound up someplace that was a little elegant.
    So, deciding that her outfit was fine left time on her hands, and she was sick to death of thinking about the man she was about to see.
    Katie sat down on the bed and poured herself a cup of coffee from the gold carafe she’d ordered when she had wakened. This was her fourth cup. She held her fingers out before her after she poured the coffee and set her cup down on the nightstand. They shook slightly—she was overdoing the caffeine and making herself edgy; dumb, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
    It was just as dumb to think about Kent Hart, and she didn’t seem to be able to help herself on that score either.
    Face it, she told herself, I came into this thing with a bad attitude. I had him judged and pegged—I certainly wasn’t expecting to take hold of a keg of dynamite.
    She had been sure that his behavior had been totally boorish and obnoxious when he had wrenched her so crudely from the party. But she now realized it was more than possible that she’d had a few too many sips of champagne and had become too trusting of the situation. She knew that parties could get out of hand—it had just never occurred to her that she could be forced into anything. And why not? she demanded of herself bitterly. Hadn’t she more or less been forced into this situation?
    No! No! Because it was still her choice. She could say the hell with the damn story anytime she chose. Of course, she would also be saying the hell with an incredible job.
    In the long run, what would it matter that she had set aside her pride—and a few of her scruples, she had to admit—when it would make her entire life better?
    It was the inflection in Raff’s voice that had bothered her so much. That she should really be willing to set aside anything to get to Kent Hart … That thought caused her to laugh dryly. If Kent Hart could be bought by a face or figure, surely some other aspiring young woman would have used her assets by now. Not many women reached their midtwenties with Katie’s inexperience these days. But then, few women spent years in virtual hiding, in loving attendance upon a dying man.
    “I’m doing all right,” she assured herself out loud.
    Those years had been good for her, really. She’d had time to age and mature a little before finding herself a player in the