by Holmes, Dee
“Maybe she doesn’t play professionally. Just for her own enjoyment.”
“But if you can make money doin’ what you enjoy, ain’t that the ideal way?”
“You’ve got a point,” Booth said. But he also tucked away this new piece of information about Kathleen. That she played the piano somehow suited her much better than waitressing.
“Kathleen is a good worker,” Porky said. “Been here about three weeks and already she has the customers askin’ for her. Dinner rush has really picked up.”
“What do you know about her?” Booth asked casually, trying not to sound like an interrogator.
Porky shrugged. “That she’s increased my business. That’s all I need to know. You know I don’t ask nosy questions.” He peered closely at Booth. “What are you gonna tell me? That’s she’s some female ax-murderer wanted by the feds?”
“Kathleen?” Booth nearly laughed. “Hardly. I was just curious about her.”
Porky leaned down in an obvious posture of “just between us guys.” “Now, Booth, you’re a helluva good-looking man. And before you married Angle—God rest her soul—when you were lovin’ them and leavin’ them, I don’t ever remember you asking around about some woman you were sizin’ up. You just made the move. Even now I could name ten ladies who would be hikin’ their skirts to keep your backside warm tonight. So what am I supposed to make of you comin’ in here when I haven’t seen you in months? Then askin’ all these questions? Last time you quizzed me about a new woman in town, the broad turned out to be a con artist.”
Booth chuckled. “You remember that, do you? That was four years ago. Okay, I admit to being a little more than curious about Kathleen, but it’s personal, not official.”
Porky folded his arms, nodding, smiling.
“Don’t jump to any rash conclusions, okay?”
“Me?”
“You.”
“Wouldn’t hurt none if you hooked up with a good woman. Little Lisa could use a full-time mother.”
Instead of what was turning out to be an unsteady stream of part-time baby-sitters, Booth reflected, but said nothing. Any thoughts he had about Kathleen were strictly in the baby-sitter role. At least, that was what he’d been telling himself for the past seventy-two hours.
Porky continued, “Gail Morgan brought Kathleen in after Gail spoke with Nell. You know Nell—anyone gives her a hard-luck story and the ole lady’s drippin’ tears while she’s pressin’ cash into their palms. Kathleen didn’t want money, she wanted a job, and so I hired her. Don’t know much beyond she’s from out west somewhere—Missouri, I think, or is it Idaho? Never mind, don’t matter. Anyway, she moved here after some messy breakup with a man. Now, mind you, Gail told me all this. Something about the past being difficult for Kathleen to talk about. It sounded like the poor kid had a rough time. I figure it was either divorce or one of them live-together deals that blew up. I didn’t ask because Gail said Kathleen was really touchy about it. I do know this—she’s a damn good waitress.”
Booth listened to all of this, concluding that he knew little more than he had before he came in. He’d learned that she played the piano, and the Missouri part made sense. Gail had gone there to be with her mother, so obviously Kathleen and Gail were friends from when they were kids. The divorce part fit, too, as did Kathleen’s reluctance to say much about herself. Her overreaction to him being a cop, however, still pricked at him. And nothing Porky had said had explained that.
“You don’t know where in Missouri, do you?” Booth asked.
“You can ask her yourself. Kathleen, come on over here. Got a big-tippin’ customer for you. Bring him a mug of coffee on your way. Black.”
Porky winked at Booth. “You can add your own sugar.”
“Very funny,” Booth said with a wry grin.
“Just tryin’ to help.” Porky stepped away from where he’d effectively been preventing Booth and Kathleen from seeing each other.
Kathleen glanced up, her hand stilling over the clean mug she was about to fill. Booth studied her. Slender, wary like a fawn poised to run. To his annoyance, he felt that same lurch in his heart he’d experienced a few nights ago. He reminded himself that he needed a full-time baby-sitter, not a woman.
His celibacy had been more because of exhaustion than disinterest in sex. Grief over losing Angie had waned in the past few months, although he couldn’t imagine being serious about another woman. Then there was his work, Lisa, moving, lining up sitters—all had weighed heavily on him. Usually, by the time he got into bed, sleep claimed him immediately.
Until he’d come home the other night and seen Kathleen holding Lisa. But, of course, she’d caught him at a vulnerable moment. The thought of a courtship process interested him not at all. For damn sure, it was much too soon for Angie’s friends to be seeing Booth dating some new woman in town.
In Crosby, Angie’s name had always been spoken with the reverence usually reserved for saints, and her tragic death had canonized her in the eyes of many. That was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because of the endless kindness and offers of help Booth had received for Lisa and himself, but as the months had passed, he’d also felt trapped by that very kindness.
Somewhere deep down, despite his refusal to give those thoughts life, he wanted to break loose, make his life his own again. He’d considered that path with more deliberateness since meeting Kathleen. Because she had no ties to Crosby, perhaps.
All he wanted from Kathleen was—The unfinished statement snarled his usually straightforward thinking. And that was the crux of his emotional interest; she complicated his thoughts—and other parts of him, as well.
Now, she moved slowly toward him and set the mug of coffee down. Wearing the restaurant’s standard uniform of short black skirt, white cotton shirt with an open placket and a Silver Lining logo sewn on the left side just above the swell of her breast, she still didn’t look like a waitress to him.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello.”
He waited for more, but she remained silent, turning to leave.
“Kathleen, come on, don’t run off.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, clearly suspicious.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
He chuckled. “You don’t waste words, do you? Okay, how about the warm weather, Lisa, where you came from, how long you’re staying and why you hate cops?”
She stiffened visibly. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but we don’t know each other very well. I look up from my station and see you and Porky talking, and then he calls me over here. This isn’t even one of my tables. I mean, it does seem strange, you just showing up for no reason.”
“Would you think it was strange if I were a plumber instead of a cop?”
“A plumber wouldn’t be asking questions of my employer or coming in here to rattle me.”
“My intent wasn’t to rattle you.”
She thought for a few seconds, and he expected a lethal slam at cops. Instead she said softly, “Please, I don’t know what you want or why, but whatever it is, I can’t be what you’re looking for.”
The light in this particular area of the restaurant was dim, and her head was turned so that he couldn’t catch her expression. It was an unusual comment—“I can’t be what you’re looking for.” Not won’t, but can’t.
“Lisa misses you,” he said simply.
For a moment, she appeared flustered, as if his comment was the last thing she expected.
Rallying to the offense, she said coolly, “Really, Booth, if that’s a line, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“A line? Are you kidding?”
She turned to leave, and he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Come on, lighten up. Talking to you is like playing dodgeball. I get hit no matter which way I move.”
The moment she looked down at him, he knew he’d crossed some line, but frankly he was getting weary of trying to figure out just what in hell that line w
as.
“Excuse me?” His clasp on her wrist loosened slightly and she pulled free. “Just because you’re a customer doesn’t give you any right to touch me or come on to me.”
“Come on to you?” Booth felt something deep inside snap. “Babe, if I intended that, I wouldn’t be playing games. I’m too old for that nonsense. Besides, using my daughter as bait would be contemptible.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“My God, don’t tell me we actually agree on something.”
“A good place to leave this conversation, wouldn’t you say?” She took a step back. “I’m off work in a few minutes, but if you want something to eat, Cassie will take care of you.”
Booth watched her turn and leave, irritated with himself. What should have been a simple conversational exchange felt more like a battle. He was frustrated by her dislike of him when he had no clue why, and he was furious with himself for giving a damn. At the same time his mind was progressing far beyond just being puzzled about Kathleen. She was so different from Angie. Not outgoing and colorful, but reserved and careful, and not a woman easily intrigued by a man.
Booth knew he could charm his way around most women—hell, he’d been doing it since he was sixteen with considerable success. But not Kathleen. That was why she fascinated him. And if coming here to see her had been to explore that fascination, she’d only presented him with a more interesting web of paths.
He shifted, suddenly aware of a familiar heaviness low in his body; a humming grip that twisted more pleasantly than it ached. Sipping the coffee, he came to an inevitable conclusion. His problem wasn’t only curiosity about the mysterious Kathleen. He had another, much more basic one.
He needed a woman.
KATHLEEN PATTED her cheeks with a wet paper towel, cursing herself for not remaining cool as she’d promised herself she would. She knew she was uptight, too accustomed to being suspicious, too conscious of looking over her shoulder. Both times she’d been around Booth, she’d acted bizarrely.
In a desperate attempt to keep herself aloof and not raise anyone’s suspicions, she’d become a demon about raising red flags. But red flags at a cop, for heaven’s sake? It was crazy and dangerous. What was really strange was that she didn’t have this problem with anyone else in Crosby—from Porky to Cassie and the other girls she worked with here, to the staff and music students at the Powell Street Center.
Only with Booth. He made her edgy, and getting to know him in a personal way would be wholesale stupidity. Yes, she was careful about questions, but he always managed to ask her one or two that threw her off guard. Not only didn’t she trust him because he was a cop, but he had access to computers and databases where she was sure she was listed as a fugitive. How often had Booth heard the “I’m innocent” excuse from those charged with a crime or someone he’d arrested? Probably all the time. But she had nothing except her word; she couldn’t prove anything, she had no witnesses, and she couldn’t expose herself for fear of being arrested. And whom would Booth believe? Her or the Rodeo police? A no-brainer, she concluded grimly.
Then, to make things more complicated, there were her unfathomable feelings for Booth—a disturbing warning that, on a personal level, she was drawn to him. She didn’t want to like him; nor did she want to hate him. She wanted to feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She cleaned up her station, restocking for the next shift, keeping her hands busy so she wouldn’t glance over at Booth. She really needed to make a serious effort to find an apartment, but even if one popped up tomorrow, she couldn’t move until Gail returned. Gail’s cat needed to be taken care of, and she’d promised Gail she’d stay.
What a dilemma she’d created by going to check on a crying baby. Yet she knew she’d do the same thing again. She took a deep breath. How hard was it to avoid one man she didn’t want to see? Only as hard as she wanted to make it. What puzzled her was his interest in her. Was it because he was suspicious, or bored? She left “attracted to her” off her list of reasons. Kathleen had seen that photo of Angie. She’d been sexy and gorgeous—the kind of woman who made Kathleen fade into the shadows.
Perhaps it was Kathleen’s interest in Lisa, or Booth’s need for a permanent sitter that drew him. Both motives were innocent enough. Maybe she was the one inventing tangled webs of intrigue, when all Booth wanted was a baby-sitter.
She smiled to herself. It was funny; if Booth were a plumber, she would have jumped at the chance to take care of Lisa.
Ten minutes later, she made one last pass of her tables to make sure they were clean and set with clean silver. When she glanced at the table where Booth had been seated, he was gone.
Pleased, but at the same time disappointed he’d given up so easily, she sighed in self-disgust. You don’t know what you want, do you? Unless it’s never to have met him. Then your insides would be much less restless and your life less complicated. She wiped off the table and picked up his coffee mug.
As she did so, she saw the five-dollar bill tucked beneath it.
And on the bill, he’d written, “Lisa sends a new-tooth grin.”
Kathleen pressed her hand against her mouth to stop the sudden trembling. Booth, this is so unfair, and dammit, you know it. She decided she was the world’s biggest sap when it came to Lisa Rawlings. And maybe when it came to her father, too.
She finished up her duties, took off her apron, and asked Porky if there was anything else he needed done.
“You know, Kathleen, you’re too good for business. You’re going to spoil me.” As she started to leave, he added, “Booth’s a good guy. You could do worse.”
Kathleen started to object and then closed her mouth. The less said, the better. “He certainly has a beautiful baby girl,” she replied, smiling broadly. “See you tomorrow.”
Kathleen said good-night to those at the bar, and made her way out into the parking lot. She’d sold the cantankerous Buick in Pennsylvania when the exhaust system had let go, and she’d been using Gail’s Subaru. The lot was well lit, and Porky insisted that all his “girls,” as he called them, park directly under the floodlights. Keys in hand, Kathleen was ready to unlock the car door, when she heard a noise behind her.
She twisted around, her purse in a position to swing, and then froze, her hand coming up to clutch her chest.
“My God, you scared me.” She sank back against the car, her body trembling.
Booth kept his distance and Kathleen almost smiled. He probably thinks I’m going to scream the place down.
Still looming in the shadows, he finally spoke. “I have an idea. Why don’t we start over?”
“Over?”
“Yes, as in introductions and no surprises.”
Kathleen smiled then, reminding herself to be cool and normal. “It has been pretty bad, hasn’t it?”
“We can chalk it up to weird circumstances.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Great. My name is Booth Rawlings, I’m a cop.” He paused for a moment, as if admitting to an ongoing vice, then looked relieved when she didn’t rush off screeching like a banshee. He continued, “I’m a widower with an eleven-month-old daughter, and if you get close enough to me, you’ll notice my aftershave is the newest scent, thanks to my daughter. It’s green-bean spray.”
Kathleen burst into laughter, the sound surprising even her with its naturalness. The laughs turned into giggles, and Booth tipped his head so he could see her face.
“Did I miss my calling as a comic?”
She giggled again. “I think I needed a good laugh.”
“I didn’t think it was so funny when I had to change clothes twice in a hour.”
“What happened the other time?”
“A leaky diaper.”
She laughed again, shaking her head.
“That better be in sympathy, and not because you’re scared to tell me I don’t know what in hell I’m doing.” He leaned against the car, so that their shoulders touched. “Because I don’t. One
little girl—”
“With another tooth. I noticed quite a few the other night,” Kathleen said.
Booth held up his right forefinger.
“Oh, no, she bit you?”
“I thought she had a peanut in her mouth—bad for babies, the pediatrician told me. Allergies and choking. So I tried to get it out, and, well, never mind.”
“And she didn’t want to let go of it.”
“Something like that,” he murmured.
In a natural, spontaneous way, Kathleen took his finger, rubbed her thumb over it and said, “Poor man, you’re suffering the battle scars of fatherhood.”
“Do we know each other well enough for me to ask you to kiss it and make it better?”
Kathleen assumed a thoughtful pose. “Not yet.”
“Damn.”
“Nice try, though.” She frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“My night off. My parents are showing Lisa off to out-of-town relatives.”
“And you’re hanging around here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why? I haven’t exactly been a barrel of laughs.”
“Well, laughs I can get with the guys. You just interest me. I think because I met you at a time when not much beyond my daughter and my job intrigues me.”
“I’ll accept that as a compliment.”
He grinned, the creases in his cheeks deepening. “Whew. For a minute I was afraid I’d said the wrong thing again. I’m beginning to wonder if I need to brush up on my approach. You’re different, so I’m pretty much winging it, and doing even that badly.”
“I’ve been a little spacey myself.”
“So can we consider this an official start-over point?”
She hesitated, retreating. “Booth, really, uh, I don’t want to seem—”
“Uninterested?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that my life is pretty complicated right now, and I don’t have time for... Okay, I’ll be blunt. I’m not interested in any kind of continuing involvement.”