Mad About You

by Bond, Stephanie

  Kat’s gaze darted sideways, then back to him, her eyes wide and terrified. James nodded to her, trying to comfort her with his eyes and hide the fact that he was shaking inside. He'd nearly watched her die yesterday—he wasn't about to watch her be executed today.

  He jerked his head to indicate the panel they'd uncovered. "Soundproof walls—so you could work undetected in your little lab?" he asked, his voice unbelievably casual.

  "Yeah," Andy said with pride in his voice.

  "I’m guessing there’s another hidden door from your lab to the vault?” he asked to keep the man talking.

  "Uh-huh. I could take things out for hours at a time and no one even suspected. Ingenious, wasn't it?"

  "You're right, Mr. Wharton," James said agreeably. "We quite underestimated you. I have to admit, you fooled many people for a rather long time. Except perhaps Mr. McKray." He saw Kat's eyes close and prayed she wouldn't faint. Wharton looked so wild-eyed, he might shoot at the first movement.

  The man frowned, and his hand dropped an inch. "Frank was starting to get in the way, being a little too nosy for his own good, so I fixed his brakes."

  Kat looked as if she were going to be ill.

  James nodded to the man sympathetically. "He found out you were behind the embezzling—I suppose you needed start-up funds?"

  Andy pursed his lips. "Someone told me you were smart."

  Conjuring up his most charming smile, James moved his hands to his waist. His gun was at his back, beneath his jacket, but he wasn't going to risk any quick movements. "Which brings me to another point," James said, shaking his head. "How you were able to branch out internationally—I'm dying to meet your London connection."

  Andy's grin was slow and sweet. "Are you now?"

  "Tania," James called, "you might as well show yourself."

  After a few seconds of silence, he heard the sound of a woman's heels clicking on the tiled floor in the other room. Tania Mercer appeared, dressed in a black pantsuit and boots, her hair tucked beneath a black beret, holding a box of long matches. "James, darling, I hate to see it come to this."

  James smiled sadly. "You wanted me out of England because you knew I had been asked to work on the Webster museum case in London."

  She raised her lovely hands in a shrug. "You're the best—I knew you would find me out."

  "So you shipped me here with a fake love letter."

  Tania sighed. "Very fake. You were supposed to be gone by the time the burglary took place—but you missed your damn plane." She frowned in Kat's direction. "I wonder what could have distracted you. Women have always been your weakness, James. I'm afraid this little dalliance will cost you your life."

  "You beat me to San Francisco, didn't you?" he asked. "It was you on the videotape, stealing the letter."

  She nodded, her eyes alight with drama. "Andy knew she was going to stumble across the forgeries when she inventoried the vault, so we came up with a way to get her out from underfoot." Her lip curled in disgust. "But your libido got in the way and messed up our entire plan."

  "But a bomb, Tania? I never figured you for a killer."

  "It's your fault—you forced our hand."

  "Surely you can't imagine you'll get away with this."

  "We have enough money now to buy new identities."

  His eyes flicked to the scrawny Wharton, whose arm was shaking from holding the gun. "And this is the man with whom you're going to spend your life as a fugitive?" He didn't attempt to keep the disdain from his voice.

  She smiled. "Let's just say there's more to him than meets the eye, James."

  James smirked, and scratched his rib cage. "Ah, so your well-endowed painter boyfriend knows how you convinced me to make this trip?"

  Her smile faltered, and Wharton’s brow crumpled. "What? You were on your back with him?"

  James shook his head. "Oh, no, Tania's positions were much more creative than that."

  "What?" Wharton screamed, swinging his gun forward and away from Kat's head. James jerked his gun out of his waistband and fired two shots in succession, hitting the man in the shoulder both times. Wharton fell back, firing his gun, and James heard Tenner grunt in pain. He looked back to see the detective lying on his back in a pool of blood, his eyes open and darting side to side.

  "Tenner!" Kat gasped and lunged for him.

  Tania grabbed the gun and yanked Wharton to his feet. She aimed at James and shot wildly. Two rounds ricocheted off the tiled floor. James dove for her legs and knocked her off her feet, the impact sending both weapons skittering across the floor. Tania fought like a wildcat, kicking, biting, and clawing. James knocked her out cold with a right jab. "Sorry, old gal," he whispered, then let her fall back to the floor.

  "James, look out!" Kat screamed.

  He rolled over and saw Wharton towering over him with the gun aimed at his chest. The man's face glistened with sweat, his shoulder oozing blood. His eyes were slightly glazed, and his lip curled back in a sneer. His finger started to squeeze the trigger. "Ugghh!" His eyes bulged in outraged pain as he froze for two seconds, then fell sideways, discharging the gun as he dropped.

  James ducked, feeling a zinging vibration between his legs as the bullet struck too close for comfort. When he lifted his head, Kat stood, still holding the glass canister she'd bashed into Wharton's head.

  "Varnish," she said with a shaky smile.

  "I'll add it to my arsenal. How's Tenner?"

  "He's conscious—I'll call nine one one."

  Chapter Fifteen

  JAMES KNOCKED ON the open door and stuck his head into the hospital room. "Are you up to the task of talking?"

  "Well, if it isn't Agent Donovan." Tenner gave him a face-splitting grin from the hospital bed. "Sure, come on in. What did you bring me?"

  James handed him a greasy sack with a wry smile. "Italian sausage with mustard and onions, and cheese fries with chili on the side."

  Tenner beamed. "Thank you, Donovan, you really know how to make a man happy."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I must say, that's the first time anyone has ever told me that. How are you feeling?"

  Tenner tore into the sack and stuffed a fry into his mouth. Then he patted his stomach, bulging under the thin hospital gown. "Just a flesh wound, and thank goodness I have plenty of that. I should be out in plenty of time for the trial. How's Beaman?"

  James frowned. "Not as cheerful as you, old chap, but he'll pull through. I've come to say good-bye."

  The detective's brow furrowed. "You're leaving?"

  He nodded.

  "Taking Ms. McKray with you, I hope."

  James lowered his gaze. He hadn't been able to shake the chest-tightening blahs since he rolled off Kat's couch this morning. Between her healing injuries and mutual wariness, they had silently agreed on separate sleeping arrangements for the last two nights.

  "Er, no," he said. "I'm due in New York tonight and Kat is leaving for L.A. next week to start a business with an unexpected windfall from Guy Trent."

  "Oh?"

  "When he discovered that Wharton had been behind the embezzling, he gave back the money she'd paid for her father's debt—with interest."

  Tenner's mouth pulled upward. "That's great for the missy. Wharton's been charged?"

  James nodded. "Tania turned on Wharton. Now he'll be tried for murdering Kat's father in addition to all the other charges."

  "What'll happen to the Mercer woman?"

  "She agreed to a plea bargain here, but she'll still have to stand trial in London. She might see the light of day in a few years, but she'll be broke and shamed—not quite the exotic adventure she'd planned for herself."

  "No, life doesn't always turn out the way we plan, does it, Agent Donovan?"

  James knew what the man was hinting at, but didn't rise to the bait. "No, it doesn't, but it always seems to turn out for the best, doesn't it?"

  Tenner gave him a crooked smile. "I'm going to be a father again."

  Surprise shot through him.
"Really? So she did it with you again?"

  "What?"

  James shook his head. "I mean, she did it to you again." He laughed weakly. "My, my."

  "Yeah, a baby at my age—don't that beat all?" Tenner belly-laughed, winced and clutched his stomach, then smiled. "Hope it's another girl."

  "Then I do too," James said, extending his hand. "Good luck, Detective. I hope you get home to your womenfolk soon."

  "Agent Donovan," Tenner said, his eyes bright, "it's been a pleasure working with you. Glad I could introduce you to the finer foods of this good country."

  Looking down at the grease shining on his hand from Tenner's slippery grip, he simply inclined his head with a smile.

  "Too bad I couldn't teach you more about women," he said as James walked to the door.

  "Thank you, Detective, but I've made it this far on my own rather well in that category."

  "You're running, son."

  James glanced back at the man and pointed to his watch. "Running late. Good-bye, Detective." But his steps slowed as he walked down the hall. His good-bye to Kat would be torturous for him—why was he rushing? If he timed it just right, it would be fast, clean, painless. Or at least less painful.

  *****

  As Kat folded towels from the dryer, she packed them in a box labeled "Bathroom Linens" and glanced out the window for the fiftieth time. He had to come back before he went to the airport—he'd left his luggage and his figurines. She sighed. And his smell, and his laugh.

  Tears, which had hovered near the surface all day, pricked her eyelids, but she widened her eyes and blinked them away, forcing herself to smile.

  She just wanted to get it over with, to say good-bye and watch him walk away so she could start getting over him, so she could begin her new life in L.A. with a clean slate. She loved him, and she knew he cared about her, too, even though "love wasn't in his vocabulary." For her, it was simply a case of right person, wrong time. They wanted different things out of life: She wanted marriage, a home, and a family, and he wanted...well, she wasn't sure what James wanted, she just knew his plans didn't include the words "monogamy" and "daddy."

  Kat checked her watch again—he had to leave for the airport in thirty minutes to make it on time. Denise was coming over later for a good old-fashioned breakup pizza party, a prelude to the farewell pizza party planned for next week.

  She truly was looking forward to leaving the city—she had too many sad memories here, especially after the showdown with Andy Wharton and Tania Mercer. Just thinking about it sent shudders through her: Had James not stayed in San Francisco, she'd either be in jail or dead. She owed him her life. The gift she had for him was only a token, but she felt as if she needed to do something. Plus some part of her wanted him to have something that would remind him of her. She smirked—something besides powder burns on his thighs from the shot Wharton had fired as he passed out from her direct hit.

  Twenty-five minutes later she'd decided he had forgone their good-bye and would probably send a courier, James Donovan style, to pick up his luggage and have it shipped.

  A huge lump formed in her throat when she realized he hadn't wanted to see her again. She actually thought they had shared a special bond. Instead he was probably already thinking ahead to the next adventure.

  The knock on her door sent her pulse jumping and she smoothed a hand over her loose hair as she walked to the door. When she opened it, he was holding onto the door frame, smiling like the devil's evil brother. "Hallo, Pussy-Kat." Then he glanced at her slacks and blouse. "I was hoping you'd be naked."

  She made a good attempt at a smile, she thought. While she was wallowing in angst wondering how she was going to say good-bye, he was as breezy as a kite, just flying through, ma'am.

  He leaned forward to give her a light, swift kiss, then glanced at his watch. "But it’s just as well. Not much time for good-byes, Pussy-Kat, I have a plane to catch."

  She nodded, biting her lower lip. Disappointment sawed through her—she hated that their parting was going to be so...so...so common. But it only reinforced her earlier assessment that her feelings obviously ran deeper than his.

  He nodded to the Woman box. "I'm leaving you the female figurine, so take good care of her."

  Kat frowned, shaking her head. "James, I can't accept a gift like that—it's much too expensive and it means—"

  "It means nothing," he said curtly, his tone cutting her deep. He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. "I simply decided I don't have room for both pieces, and I don't feel like lugging the pair all the way to New York and then to London."

  She blinked and forbade herself to cry.

  His mouth was set in a firm line. "It doesn't represent something larger, if that's what you're worried about. If you don't want to be bothered with it either, take it back to the dealer and see if he'll take it off your hands."

  Kat bit her tongue, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting her. "Okay," she said softly.

  He had gathered up his suitcase and the Man box and was backing out the door when she remembered the gift. She reached for the small package and fingered the paper she'd so carefully wrapped around it. "Um, James."

  His brow was still furrowed when he glanced up, and climbed in surprise when he spotted the wrapped gift.

  She shrugged. "Just a little something to say thank you."

  James stopped, then looked flustered. "My cab's waiting—"

  "Go," she said, shooing him out the door and smiling as wide as she dared. "You can open it later—it, um, doesn't represent something larger."

  He gave her a little smile, then nodded.

  "See you in the movies," she quipped.

  One dimple appeared. "Sorry?"

  She shook her head and whispered, "Private joke."

  "Good-bye, Pussy-Kat, I hope you find everything your heart desires in the City of Angels."

  She could almost feel her heart cracking open. "Good-bye, Agent Donovan, I wish the same for you in your worldly travels."

  He flashed both dimples, and then he was gone.

  Kat resisted the urge to watch him walk away. She simply closed the door and slid down it until she sat on the bare wood floor, her tears falling freely.

  *****

  James cleared his throat for the tenth time to dislodge the clump of emotion he felt at leaving Kat. In his bumbling attempt to avoid a sappy good-bye, he'd hurt her feelings. What a cad he'd been.

  "Got a cold?" the cabbie asked conversationally.

  "Er, yes...I believe I am coming down with something."

  "Sounds bad."

  James glanced down at the wrapped package in his lap. "It's quite bad, actually."

  "Drink lots of fluids," the fellow said.

  "Do martinis count?" James asked with a wry grin.

  "Hell, yeah." The man pointed at the package. "Whatcha got there?"

  "I'm not sure—it's a gift."

  "Aren't you gonna open it?"

  James nodded, then carefully opened one end. He tore away several layers until he withdrew a fat leather case, from which protruded a copper-colored metal tube with a decorative screw-top lid.

  "What is it?" the guy asked.

  "It's a portable humidor," James said, his heart doing strange things inside his tight chest.

  "For cigars?"

  "Yes."

  "Wow, it looks nice."

  "Indeed," James replied, alternately caressing the metal and the leather. The initials JD had been engraved in simple block letters on the lid.

  "From a girlfriend?"

  James frowned. "Not really." He looked back to the gift and smiled. "Just a wonderful lady I met during my visit." He carefully unscrewed the lid and blinked as the strong aroma of tobacco filled his nostrils.

  "Did she put a cigar in it too?"

  James pinched the top of the cigar, his heart thudding as he withdrew it from the metal cylinder. "Bloody hell," he whispered.

  "Must be a good one."

  "The bes
t," James agreed softly, studying one of the Cuban cigars that had been her father's. Her most precious treasure, and she'd given one to him.

  *****

  "No, Denise, really I'm fine," Kat said into the phone. "I just don't feel like getting together tonight, that's all."

  "You’re missing your secret agent man."

  Her heart squeezed. "No, I think the excitement of the last few days is catching up with me."

  "That’s understandable, I guess. Get some rest. Call me tomorrow?"

  "Absolutely." Kat disconnected the call, then stared morosely at the Woman package. With a sigh, she slit open the box and lifted the heavily wrapped figurine. She carefully removed the layers until she uncovered the jade female, translucent, resplendent...and alone. She felt a brief pang for Woman, who might never be reunited with her true partner. Then she smiled sadly—she was commiserating with a statue. "Want some ice cream?" she asked Woman.

  What hurt the most was that she had so misjudged James’s affection for her. All along it had been a convenient, physical relationship, and nothing more. She glanced at the clock—he was already in the sky, winging his way toward New York and the rest of his life… without her.

  Kat poured herself a glass of wine, with two scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side, then turned on the stereo and wrapped another cabinet of dishes in a stack of newspapers. She'd polished off the ice cream and started on a second cabinet when a knock sounded at the door. Kat smiled—how would she make it in L.A. without Denise?

  Wiping her newsprint-stained hands on a paper towel, she padded to the door and swung it open, grinning. Then her grin dissolved.

  "Hallo, Pussy-Kat." James's voice was low and his smile seemed a bit strained. His suitcase and Man squatted on the floor next to his feet.

  Her throat constricted, and the first thing that went through her mind was that she couldn't handle another good-bye. "Did you miss your flight?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "Traffic?"

  "No. I love you."

  Kat blinked, and her heart vaulted. "Excuse me?" she whispered.