CHAPTER ONE

She didn't see him coming until it was too late. CRASH! Books, papers, and bodies went flying everywhere.

It was on the tip of her tongue to snarl "Watch where you're fucking going!" but the words died on her lips as she got a good look at her accidental assailant.

Longish, curly light-brown hair, gold where the sun hit it…dark brown eyes with permanent smile lines in the corners…a straight nose, a sensuous mouth…what looked to be a very nice body beneath his tight black T-shirt and baggy, faded jeans.

"Shit!" said this paragon of masculine beauty. "I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

She was actually pretty sure she had broken her ass bone, if such a thing was possible. But she heard herself saying, "It's OK, I'm fine." Then, incredibly, "I should have been watching where I was going."

"Well, that makes two of us," replied Mr. Yummy. He sprang to his feet with a quick grace that made her think of a big jungle cat—perhaps a panther. A panther? scoffed the part of her brain that was still functioning. Jesus, Katie, why don't you just forget college and start writing bodice-rippers for a living?

As Katie's physical brain and intellectual one battled it out, the guy was rushing around gathering her books and papers. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again. To her mortification Katie realized she was sitting right where she had fallen, probably with a dumb look on her face.

"Of course," she assured him, leaping to her feet and helping him gather her stuff. "I—uh—well, it's just been a long day." A long day, she added silently, that might just be improving.

"No shit," the guy replied as he handed her her things. "I hope I didn't make you late for class or anything."

"Not at all," she said quickly. "Tuesday is my short day."

"Mine too," he said. "Listen—you want to go grab a cup of coffee or something?"

Most guys who showed an interest in Katie were quickly rebuffed. But for most of her life, most guys who showed an interest in Katie Wayne were mainly interested in the Wayne name and fortune, and this guy didn't even know her first name, let alone her last. Besides, as best as she could remember, none of them had been nearly as good-looking as this guy. So she said, "I'd like that."

"Good," he said as they began across the quad toward the campus coffee shop. 'It's the least I can do after running you down. By the way, I'm Jack Napier."

"I'm Katie," she replied. "Katie Wayne."

He showed no sign of recognition at the last name, and his stock jumped even higher in her eyes. Maybe he wasn't from Gotham City originally—she thought he had the faintest trace of a Jersey accent. Then again, Wayne wasn't exactly an uncommon name—not like, say, Astor or Vanderbilt. There were plenty of average-Joe Waynes out there. In fact, for the first few years of her life she had been just plain old Katie Wayne, nobody special. Then her parents had died…

"So what's your major?" Jack brought Katie back to reality.

"Psychology. What about you?"

"Poli sci. How long have you been at Gotham U? I don't think I've seen you around."

"I just started this semester," she replied.

"Oh? Did you transfer from somewhere else?"

"No, I'm a freshman. I graduated from high school a semester early, so I decided to go ahead and start college. What class are you?"

"Sophomore. So you finished high school early? You must be really smart."

She was smart, but so far she hadn't done a very good job of proving that. "I guess," she mumbled.

They continued to make small talk, mostly about school, until they were seated at an umbrella-covered table drinking lattes. Jack hadn't even given her a chance to offer to pay; he had just handed the barista a twenty and said, "This is for both our orders." When she protested he had insisted, "No, it's on me. I'm the one who mowed you down." Katie was beginning to like this Jack Napier more and more.

"So, Katie Wayne," he began once they were seated. "Tell me about yourself. Are you from Gotham City?"

Katie was starting to feel relaxed and didn't mind answering his questions. "My family is originally, but I was born in Chicago. I've been in boarding school upstate since first grade."

"Boarding school?" he echoed. "That's not something you hear about often. Are your parents rich or something?"

He stopped short and stared at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he put two and two together…Wayne…boarding school… "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "You're the Wayne heiress!"

Katie debated on what to do now. She wanted to either run off crying, or dump her steaming latte over his head—into his lap would be even better—but neither was exactly appropriate conduct for an heiress. So she lifted her chin, gave him her best dazzling smile, and said coolly, "Well, yes."

"Oh my God!" he burst out. "I can't believe this! The whole campus has been talking about you since the semester began!"

Her shoulders sagged. "They have?" she said. "Great. Grand."

"No, it's OK," he said hastily. "It's because you're so mysterious—everyone knows you're here, but no one seems to know exactly who you are. There are a lot of Waynes on campus, so no one really knows for sure who the Wayne heiress is—or if they do, they're not telling." He gazed at her intently. She fought the urge to check for a foam mustache.

"What's wrong?" she asked finally.

He blushed and ducked his head. "It's just that…well…you don't exactly look the way I figured an heiress would look," he mumbled.

Katie's annoyance turned to amusement. "How do you figure?"

"Well, I figured you'd be head-to-toe designer labels and diamonds," he confessed. "With a big-ass Prada bag or something…" He trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

She had to laugh. "With a Chihuahua peeking out?"

He grinned, and her stomach did a somersault. "Something like that."

Katie looked down at her jeans and Bob Marley T-shirt. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, no, not at all!" he exclaimed. "You look great…I mean, you look…Shit." His face turned bright, tomato-red, and Katie fought the urge to laugh out loud. "It's just that…I figured you'd be all fancy, but you're just…normal."

Katie decided to try to alleviate his obvious embarrassment. A real lady does her best to put a gentleman at his ease, said a voice in the back of her head. It sounded a lot like Miss Cavendish, one of her least favorite teachers at Heathrow. "Alfred would have a stroke if I walked out of the house dressed like a Hilton or something," she said. "But even he says there's nothing wrong with a designer label from time to time."

"Who's Alfred?" asked Jack. "Your…boyfriend?"

This time Katie did laugh out loud. "I'm sorry," she said. "Alfred is…well, I guess you would call him a guardian. He was my Uncle Thomas's butler, and he pretty much raised my cousin Bruce after his parents were killed."

Jack looked relieved, but tried not to show it. "I've heard about that," he said. "He and his wife were shot by a mugger or something, right?"

"That's right," Katie confirmed. "The guy was paroled a few years ago, but as he was leaving court somebody shot him."

"Poetic justice," Jack mused.

"That's what we all thought," she said gravely.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Jack said, "So Thomas Wayne was your uncle? You hear a lot about him in Gotham City, but I've never heard anything about a brother or sister."

Katie shrugged. "I'm not surprised. My dad, James, was a lot younger than Uncle Thomas, and from what I gather he was kind of a bad seed. He had a falling-out with my grandfather after he flunked out of college and got disinherited."

"Just for flunking out of college?"

"Well," Katie grinned, "it was the third one he'd flunked out of. And apparently he'd always nothing but trouble, so I guess it was the straw that broke the camel's back. The way Alfred tells it, I gather my grandfather was never exactly fond of my dad—my grandmother died giving birth to him, and I guess Grandfather Wayne blamed him for that." She decided not to mention the attack of conscience the old man had apparently suffered on his deathbed, which had led him to include a small—by Wayne standards, at least—provision in his will for the child of his prodigal son. People always assumed she had an inheritance coming, but then again she could have been living off the charity of her cousin Bruce. She thought it prudent to keep them guessing, just as a precaution against fortune-hunters. Not that Jack Napier seemed like that kind, but still…

He was saying something else. "And your parents? Where are they?"

"Dead," Katie said simply. "They died in a wreck when I was five." She also decided not to mention the fact that they had been drunk and fighting when they crashed—or that she had been in the backseat at the time. Only Alfred and Bruce knew that part. She had never been close enough to anyone else to talk about it.

"I'm sorry," Jack said sincerely, looking at her with those velvety brown eyes. Her stomach flip-flopped again. Oh hell, she thought. I am gone over this guy.

"It was a long time ago," she responded—her standard answer whenever the subject was brought up. "Anyway, that's pretty much my family and my life story. So what about you? Where did you grow up? What's your family like?"

There was a certain understanding in those beautiful eyes as he responded. "I grew up in Atlantic City," he said. "My mom still lives there, and my dad took off when I was little so God only knows where he is now. I got into Gotham U on a scholarship."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

A shadow seemed to pass over his face. "I had a sister," he said quietly. "She died when I was twelve."

Impulsively, Katie reached across the table and put her hand over his. He let her. They sat like that for what seemed like hours. Finally he put his other hand over hers and said softly, "Thanks."

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of her watch. "Damn!" he swore. "I've got to be at work in twenty minutes."

"Where do you work?" she asked. Suddenly she couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to get away. Just my luck, she moaned inwardly. I finally meet someone who doesn't seem to see me as a walking dollar sign, and he wants to get away.

"Campus bookstore," he said, rising quickly. "It sucks ass, but with the scholarship it just covers tuition." He hesitated. "Listen, Katie…" God, she loved the way he said her name!

"Would you like to get together tonight?" he asked in a rush. "I'm kind of broke right now, but they're showing Citizen Kane at the Student Union, and admission's free. I can spring for popcorn."

The sun broke through the clouds. The air filled with the sounds of an angel choir. At least that's how it felt to Katie. "I'd love to," she said, knowing she was grinning like a possum but unable to stop it. "I've never seen Citizen Kane."

"Great," he said. "It starts at eight so I'll pick you up around—seven? It'll take that long to find a parking space."

"Sounds good," she said. "I assume you know where I live?"

He kept a straight face. "I'll just look for the wrought-iron gate that says 'Wayne Manor'," he said solemnly.

It wasn't all that funny, but Katie laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. The way she felt right then, it was.

"ALFRED!" Katie hollered as she burst into the foyer of Wayne Manor. "I'M HOME!"

Alfred Pennyworth, looking as formal and dignified as always, came down the stairs. "And how was your day, Miss Katherine?" he asked in his veddy proper British accent. He suspected it had gone well. Katie's cheeks were flushed, and her bright blue eyes sparkled. Always an attractive girl, right now she looked downright beautiful. As a matter of fact, Alfred mused, she looked uncannily like the portrait of her grandmother in the parlor—the portrait of the original Katherine Wayne.

"It was—" Katie struggled to find the right word—"fan-friggin'-tastic." She sighed dreamily.

Alfred stifled a smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss," he said dryly. "Will you be having lunch now?"

"In a little while," Katie replied, drifting towards the stairs. "I'm too excited to eat right now." She began a slow ascent to her room on the third floor. "Oh, Alfred," she called, pausing halfway up.

He popped right back into sight, though he'd already been in the next room. "Yes, Miss?"

"I have a date tonight. A young man named Jack Napier will be calling for me at about seven o'clock." Humming a little tune, Katie started back up the stairs.

"Very good, Miss," Alfred called, but there was a slight frown on his face. A young man. He should have guesses it immediately. He had been expecting it ever since the young miss finished at boarding school and came to Wayne Manor.

Miss Katherine seemed to be a mature, level-headed young woman, if a bit exuberant. And he knew she'd sniffed out her share of fortune hunters. But still…but still…

"Oh, Miss Katherine," he murmured. "Katie, be careful."