A Bridge to Dreams (6 page)

“Someone like Frank,” Karyn said, unable to restrain a grin.

“Frank?”

“My oldest brother. He's very handy. He turns positively rapturous at the sight of something broken.”

“Just the kind of man I meant,” Brad concurred, laughing at the description.

“I want more,” Karyn countered, warming to the subject. “I mean, I know there's a lot to be said for stability and responsibility, but I'm perfectly willing to rely on myself for those. They weren't traits that did my mother any good. My father was as responsible as they come, but he died when he was barely fifty and she was left on her own with little education and no marketable skills. It's not smart for a woman to count on anyone other than herself.”

“That's a pretty cynical attitude.”

“Not cynical,” she contradicted. “Realistic. I'm not dismissing the value of love, mind you. I'm all for romance and storybook endings, but not solely for the purpose of providing a safe, secure future.”

“Ah,” he said. “I think I'm beginning to catch the distinction. I think it puts you somewhere between feminism and fairy tales.”

“You're laughing at me,” she said indignantly.

“No, sweetheart. I'm envying you. You're so certain about what you want out of life.”

“Is that how I seem to you?”

“Absolutely. I've never known anyone more confident in herself and her goals. All that self-reliance is a little intimidating to a man who's going through a midlife crisis that's not of his own choosing.”

“Only if you think the only way to maintain a relationship is for the man to control the purse strings. Are you that insecure, Brad? Can't you conceive of a relationship with a woman that's a full partnership in every sense of the word?”

“I've never thought about it before,” he said. “I guess
we'll just have to wait and see how deep my macho chauvinism runs, won't we?”

“When do you anticipate knowing?”

“Oh, I'd say I should have a better idea by the end of the week. Now why don't we talk about your insecurities for a minute.”

“Mine? I thought you just said I was intimidatingly confident.”

“With one exception that I've discovered so far. You turned practically green with jealousy when that woman came up to our table. Why?”

“She seemed like exactly the kind of woman who knows how to go after everything she wants and get it.”
Including you,
she thought to herself.

He shook his head. “I guess I'll just have to spend the rest of this week proving to you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about from a woman like that.” His fingers combed back through the short curls of her hair until his palm rested against the curve of her cheek. “You are a beautiful, vital, exciting woman. No man who's out with you would ever turn his attention to someone else unless he's a damn fool.”

The attempt to still her self-doubt was sweet, but Karyn wasn't crazy enough to believe she could compete with the full-figured, flamboyant redheads of the world. “It's very nice of you—”

He pressed his finger against her lips. “No doubts.”

“Brad, how can I not have doubts?” she said, trying desperately to cling to reality when he was leading her toward fantasy at a dizzying pace. “I'm not glamorous.”

“So what?”

“I'm not sophisticated.”

“Thank God.”

“There are so many things I've never experienced.”

“Which will make it all the more fun for us to do them together. Now are you quite through denigrating yourself?”

“I am not putting myself down,” she argued. “I don't believe in self-pity. I'm just trying to make you see my limitations. I am what I am. I'm proud of what I've accomplished. It just may not be enough for someone like you.”

“Sweetheart, those things you mentioned are only limitations to you, definitely not to me. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you? I see spirit and determination. I see the innocent delight that makes your eyes sparkle. I see someone who's not afraid to laugh, who still takes pleasure in little things like pickles or a scarf. I see excitement at the prospect of discovering new things.”

All the things he mentioned were traits that Karyn thought of as merely an irritating lack of experience. “You really mean that, don't you?” she said, searching his expression and seeing nothing but heartfelt sincerity.

He nodded. “I really do. Now let's go. We have an entire city to explore and only a week to see it. Think you can keep up with me?”

After the tiniest hesitation, she smiled and a weight lifted from her heart. If Brad Willis was content with her company, who was she to suggest that he would soon grow bored? “Absolutely,” Karyn said with renewed confidence. “What's next?”

“Fisherman's Wharf. We began the day as tourists. I think we should end it the same way.”

The honky-tonk atmosphere of the famed waterfront area, along with the Cannery and Ghirardelli Square,
was exactly what Karyn needed. The sidewalk entertainment, the diverse shops and outdoor cafés set against the backdrop of the Bay gave them a chance for more leisurely, hand-in-hand strolling in an environment that defied depressing thoughts.

She discovered that while Brad was knowledgeable about the offerings of the exclusive boutiques in Sausalito, he was just as enthusiastic about inexpensive tourist trinkets. He insisted that she have a San Francisco T-shirt and was endlessly patient while she chose one. When the purchase was made, he promptly tugged the shirt over her head, his hands lingering for just a moment beneath her breasts. The light, casual brush of his fingertips set off waves of shivering delight. It was a sensation Karyn knew she'd remember weeks from now when Brad was gone and she was alone in her bed, wearing the oversize shirt.

“You're trembling,” he noted, his gaze locked with hers.

Her throat too dry to respond, Karyn nodded, terrified he could tell how his touch aroused her.

“I think that calls for some Irish coffee,” he decided, apparently misreading the cause of the shudders sweeping through her. She was relieved at first, until she caught the knowing glint in his eyes and realized that he had deliberately taken her response lightly to set her at ease. Karyn realized then what she should have known all along: Brad knew all about seductive pacing, just as he did about negotiating the curves and hills of a Grand Prix course. It should have made her cautious. Instead, it filled her with anticipation.

They walked to the Buena Vista Café on Hyde Street,
where they were finally able to find a table for two squeezed into a corner of the crowded restaurant famous for its Irish coffee. When the steaming coffee was in front of them, Karyn clung to the cup and searched for something witty to say. Her range of repartee seemed all too limited. She doubted he would want to hear about her class in interrogatories or her struggle with taking depositions. For the first time in her life, she regretted not taking more time away from her classes and work to develop the social skills that were second nature to most women her age.

“You're retreating again,” Brad accused gently.

“You're right,” she admitted. “I don't have a lot of practice making small talk.”

“Small talk is between strangers. Surely we're more than that by now.”

“Not really.”

He settled back, crossed his legs at the ankles and grinned. “Okay, fire away. What would you like to know?”

She seized the opening with enthusiasm. Leaning forward, Karyn propped her chin in her hand and said, “Tell me about your family.”

“You already know about my father. My mother is a bit of a socialite in her own right. Her parents had money. They thought she married beneath her when she married my dad. I think that's probably why he became such a workaholic. I think he's always been trying to prove himself. Ironically, he never needed to prove anything to my mother. She adores him and she stopped caring what her parents thought the day she walked down the aisle.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“A younger brother.”

“Does he show any inclination to take over the family business? Couldn't he relieve you of some of the responsibility, so you could race again?”

“Unfortunately, Brian is only interested in making sure that he gets his share of our father's estate. If he had his way, I'm sure it would be sooner, rather than later.”

“That's awful,” she said, genuinely appalled. “Don't they get along?”

“It's not that. Brian is a gambler, a real high roller. It's an addiction, but he doesn't see it that way. Dad gave up on him a long time ago. He put money in a trust fund for him so that he'd never have grounds to challenge his will, but he won't allow him access to the business. He's afraid he'd lose it in a high-stakes poker game or use it for collateral to bankroll a bet on the races at Santa Anita. Brian gets a healthy amount from the interest on the trust, but it's never enough. He's always borrowing from Mom or me or our grandparents. He only dares to turn to Dad when he's desperate.”

Karyn listened carefully for some evidence of anger. She heard none. “You don't sound bitter. Why? He's keeping you from your dream.”

“I feel sorry for him. Gambling is a sickness for him, but until he realizes it, he'll never change. As for me, Brian's not keeping me from anything. I made a choice about how I wanted to handle my life and my relationship with Dad. I owe him a lot. Without him, I'd never have been on the race circuit in the first place. I'm going through a rough period of adjustment now, but I know what I'm doing is right.”

“I saw that picture of the two of you that's hanging in your office. He looked very proud.”

“He was. I think he feels tremendous guilt about what's happened. I've tried not to let him see the frustration I feel, but sometimes I'm sure he does. Fortunately, for all of us, it's getting better.”

Brad took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the knuckles before raising it slowly to his lips. That sense of shivery anticipation raced through Karyn again as he lingered over the tender caress. “I'm finding more and more to like about this more stable lifestyle,” he said in a low voice that skimmed across her senses with the fire of whiskey.

“Brad.” With the roaring of her blood in her ears, she was barely able to choke out his name.

“Um?”

“Maybe…I'd better go home. It's been a long day and it's getting late.”

He smiled ruefully. “Why am I so certain that you mean to go alone?”

“I'm sorry.”

“You needn't be. It's part of what makes you special. Come on, then. I'll walk you to your car.”

“I'll give you a lift,” she offered, suddenly reluctant to put an end to the day, fearful the joyous feelings she'd been discovering would vanish like a wisp of fog in sunlight.

“No. If I get into that car with you, I may not want to get out. It's better if I walk back to my hotel.”

She felt oddly hesitant. What if sending him home alone proved to him just how silly and unsophisticated she was? “I will see you in the morning, won't I?” Though
her tone was light, she knew there was no mistaking her doubts. She regretted it, but she couldn't stop it.

“Maybe not at dawn again, but I will be there,” Brad promised. “Count on it.”

His arms slid around her then and his lips found the sensitive spot on her neck before claiming her lips one last time. “It's been a special day, Karyn. One I'll never forget.”

“Do you really mean that?” she asked, anxiously searching his eyes.

“Every word, sweetheart.”

With his words warming her heart, Karyn got in the car, turned on the ignition and started to back up. A bus pulled part of the way past and stopped, blocking her way. She hit the brakes and waited. The bus didn't move. Finally growing increasingly irritated, she turned and glared toward the driver.

It was Timmy—and the expression on his face as he scowled down at her and Brad, who was still waiting nearby, was not filled with brotherly love. She had no doubts at all that the only thing keeping him from climbing out of the bus and pummeling Brad right then and there was the fact that the bus was filled with passengers. Even so, he appeared torn between expressing his indignation and his professional responsibility.

“Brad, I think you'd better go on,” she whispered urgently.

Brad heard the odd nervousness in her voice, but more than that he saw a quick flicker of panic in her eyes. It shook him. He reached out to touch her cheek reassuringly, but she moved away. Puzzled, he asked, “Karyn, what's wrong?”

She again glanced anxiously toward the bus that was
blocking her car. “The man driving that bus,” she whispered, “the one with murder in his eyes…”

“Yes?”

“He's my brother Timmy.”

Brad turned around slowly and looked toward the bus. He studied the driver and caught the hint of brotherly outrage on his face. For the first time he fully understood just how protective her family was. A part of him appreciated such deep loyalty and concern and liked the fact that someone had been looking after Karyn as he himself would have done. What worried him was the effect it seemed to have on her. One minute she had been all woman in his arms. The next she had been as skittish as a kitten.

In an attempt to disarm Timmy and relieve Karyn's nervousness, Brad waved. As Brad had intended, the friendly gesture obviously disconcerted her brother. Timmy gave him a halfhearted wave then, with obvious reluctance, responded to the noisy, irritated rebukes from his passengers. He pulled into traffic and drove on.

With his departure, Brad could see Karyn's tension visibly abate, though she continued to shiver. He realized then that he couldn't possibly let her go home alone, when it was obvious she was going to spend the night worrying herself sick over the prospect of a confrontation with her brother. Before she could put the convertible back into gear, he leaped over the door and settled into the passenger seat.