“Thank you, I think.” Joe Lyon grinned.
Les dropped the bag of fruit. “I thought you were—”
“So, I’m not good enough to squeeze?” He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets.
Panic slammed into Les’s chest. At first, she didn’t exactly understand the feeling, but it quickly became apparent. Something about Joe had changed—something subtle but scary.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Like my new shoes,” came Mimi’s voice from the living room.
“Just a second,” Les said, and ran back to the living room. Mimi sat in front of the TV, one foot extended in front of her. When Les turned back around, Joe was right behind her. And darn if he didn’t look good enough to squeeze.
Wow.
He wore a blue sweater, the same color as his eyes, and hanging loose over the sweater was a black jacket. His jeans, faded as if they were his favorite pair, showcased his waist and legs. His dark hair looked a little tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it.
Les remembered how attentive he’d been to Katie last night. He’d replaced her window and had had a friend drive with him to retrieve her car. He’d even followed Katie and her to the hotel, where she and Katie had stayed the night.
Good, sweet, handsome Joe. How many times had she heard Katie describe him that way? Katie was an idiot to let him go. How could Katie not feel pizzazz for the man?
“You need something?” Les asked, unable to think straight.
“Yeah. I do.” His tone was husky, full of innuendo.
What kind of innuendo? She glanced up. Their eyes met.
“We need to talk,” Joe said.
Chapter Twenty-one
Don’t tell him about canceling the wedding. Those seven words were Katie’s mantra as they walked to the diner. Carl opened the door for her and, when she walked past, she brushed against his arm. The brief touch sent currents of emotion shooting through her. She looked up and his expression told her he’d felt the fireworks, too.
She took off for her regular table. His footsteps echoed behind her and, in her mind, she heard him say Breathe, Red. Following the advice, she took a big swallow of oxygen and lowered herself into a chair. He took the seat next to her. His leg brushed hers under the table, sending more emotional currents racing up her thigh and settling in the pit of her abdomen.
She felt him staring at her, so she picked up the menu and studied it as if she didn’t already know everything on it, as if she didn’t order the same thing every time she visited.
“What’s good here?” he asked.
“The salads are good.” Remembering their macho conversation, she eyed him over the menu and smiled. “The quiches are great, too. But real men don’t eat quiche, do they?”
He chuckled. “I can eat quiche.” Their gazes lingered a bit too long. His smile faded. “How are you, Red?”
Don’t tell him about canceling the wedding. If she could get through this lunch, then he’d leave, and she’d probably never see him again. And that’s what she wanted. Right?
Wrong. But she was a Ray. And Rays didn’t do stupid things. They didn’t go after things they knew they couldn’t have. Failure wasn’t an option in the Ray family. And if she went after Carl Hades, she would fail. Fail miserably. He wasn’t the forever kind of man.
“I’m fine.” She refocused on dressing selections.
“No flashbacks? You’re not replaying things in your head?”
The menu almost slipped from her hands. “How did you know?”
He leaned in and she caught his scent. “It’s normal. When you see something traumatic, it happens.”
She reached down to the mismatched silverware on her cloth napkin. The knife had a rose engraved on the handle and the fork had little daisies. “You must have had that happen a lot when you worked for the police.”
“A bit. You may need to see someone. Talk.”
She blinked. “Did you see someone?”
“The Force made us see a counselor when something happened.”
“What did they do for you?” She moved the fork away from the knife, because the two looked too different to be in one setting.
“Not a damn thing.” He chuckled. “But they claimed talking about it helped. Mostly, I think it just takes some time.”
“Good. Because I don’t like the idea of…of being someone’s lab rat.” Rays also didn’t go to shrinks.
The waitress came by. Katie ordered her usual: a fried chicken filet over a green salad, and nonfat ranch dressing. She figured one balanced out the other. Carl ordered a sandwich and the quiche.
Katie snickered when the waitress left. “You didn’t have to order it.”
“I have a point to prove. I can wear”—he looked down at his shirt,frowned—“pink, and I can eat quiche.”
She laughed. He stared. She stopped laughing.
“Damn, you’re beautiful when you laugh.”
She pulled her napkin from the table and placed it in her lap. The silence seemed heavy, and she studied the silverware so she didn’t have to look at him.
“Something wrong with your fork?” he asked.
She looked up. “They don’t match.”
“Do they have to?” He glanced at his own silverware.
“It doesn’t matter. I just noticed, is all.”
“Are you a perfectionist, Katie Ray?”
That comment won him what Les famously called Katie’s eye roll. “Not about silverware. At home I use plastic forks and eat out of paper plates because I forget to run the dishwasher. When you live alone you…” She hesitated. Alone hurt. Alone sucked.
The silence seemed to rain down on them again. “Tell me more,” he said.
“More?” She picked up the iced tea the waitress had left her.
“More about yourself.”
Don’t tell him about canceling the wedding.
But, oh goodness, she wanted to tell him. Tell him that she wasn’t engaged anymore, to let him know that if he was interested in her then she was interested in him. But that couldn’t happen. He was a playboy; she was a girl who wanted to get married so badly she’d almost married someone she loved like a brother. A man so much like her brother that—
That thought brought her back to Les and Joe. Was that why Les liked Joe? Because he was so much like Mike?
She remembered Carl’s question. “I’m just me.”
“And what does me do for fun?”
She almost said paint. But she didn’t paint anymore. “I watch TV, go to see chick flicks, read. Oh, I volunteer at the hospital once a month.”
“Hospital?” He sipped his tea. “What do you do there?”
“I rock premature and sick babies.”
His eyes widened. “Rock babies?”
“The nurses don’t have time to do it. So they get people to volunteer. It’s easy. And it kind of makes me feel good.”
“Sounds like a worthy cause.” He let out a deep breath. “Sounds like what I expected you to do.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just that you are the rocking-babies kind of girl.”
The waitress brought their food. And the conversation turned to the quiche as Carl forked a big mouthful into his lips.
“See, I can eat quiche.” He polished off every last bite. Then he asked, “So, what do you watch on TV?”
She leaned back in her chair. “A little of everything.”
“Like?” He picked up his sandwich.
“Reruns of Sex and the City. Law & Order. And…” She grinned, realizing her eclectic taste. “And Brady Bunch reruns.”
He chuckled. “Now, there’s a mix.”
“What about you?” She forked a piece of chicken and lettuce. The fork had daisies and, oddly, it still bothered her.
“Reruns mostly, just like you. Law & Order. Fear Factor. Oh, and Two and a Half Men.”
“I could have guessed.” She grinned. “Favorite movie?”
“It was funny,” she admitted. “Joe and I rented the video.”
“Really?” He set his sandwich down. She didn’t miss his expression.
Don’t tell him about canceling the wedding.
The silence held. “What’re your hobbies?” she asked.
“I jog for exercise. And do PI work.”
“What kind of PI cases do you get?” She took a bite.
He grinned. “Not always the ones I’d like to get.”
“You get a lot of cheating spouses cases?” she asked.
He nodded. “Last Saturday I got shot at by a man wearing a black thong and a pink nightie.”
Katie laughed. “What did you do to make him shoot at you?”
Carl grinned. “He caught me taking his picture while he was entertaining some other freak he’d met on the Internet.” Carl held up one hand. “Which I justified doing because his wife needed to prove to the judge that the husband wasn’t the father of the year he was claiming to be.”
“And because she paid you,” she said.
“Yeah. There’s that reason, too.” He rolled his shoulder and reached back to rub it. “Actually, I’ve had a few good cases. I caught a pedophile a couple months ago. And I’m getting more and more corporate security–type jobs.”
“You like doing this more than being a cop?” she asked, remembering he’d never told her why he’d quit the police force. She almost asked, but realized the less she knew about him the better. Today’s lunch was it. Good-bye.
“There are things I miss about carrying a badge, but overall, yeah, I like working for myself.”
The waitress came and took their plates and left the check. Katie tried to pay, but Carl refused to let her.
“Thanks for lunch.” She glanced at her watch. “I should…be getting back.”
He looked at her as if he knew this was good-bye, too.
Don’t tell him about canceling the wedding.
Standing, Katie glanced back at the silverware still on the table. Like the fork and knife, she and Carl didn’t match. Didn’t belong together.
They left the diner, silently walking to the entrance of the gallery. Don’t tell him about canceling the wedding. She turned to say good-bye.
“I…” She swallowed. “I guess this is good-bye.”
He reached out and touched a strand of her hair that had escaped the ponytail. “Do you really want it to be good-bye, Red?”
Les forced herself to met Joe’s eyes. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
“Time to go to bed,” Mimi called out.
Les swung around. Mimi was removing her blouse.
Les looked back at Joe. “I need to get her down for a nap.”
“No problem,” he said.
She breathed a sigh of relief and motioned toward the door. He didn’t move.
“I’ll wait right here.”
Les blinked. Behind her she heard Mimi shifting. Probably half-undressed. “Fine.” She swung around and closed Mimi’s blouse and helped her to the bedroom.
Five minutes later, Les walked back into the living room to find Joe sitting on the sofa. For some crazy reason, she didn’t want to sit beside him.
“I need a soda. Want anything?” She headed for the kitchen.
Joe followed her. “A Coke would be nice.”
Les headed straight for the fridge and pulled out one diet drink and one regular. For some reason, she didn’t think Joe would drink diet. Mike hadn’t.
He took the Coke from her. Their hands touched briefly, and she almost jerked back.
“Was that your grandmother?” he asked.
Les nodded. “Yeah.”
“What is it? Alzheimer’s?”
Les held the cold soda can close. “Stroke.”
“I’m sorry. It must be hard.”
“I’m sure it is on my mom. But Mimi seems happy.”
His gaze moved around. “Is this the house you grew up in?”
“Yeah.” Nervous, she asked, “What is it you need, Joe?”
He hesitated as if he was searching for a topic. “I told Katie about the shower.”
Les felt the blood run from her face. “Why?”
“It was the right thing to do.”
Okay, Les had known she’d have to tell Katie, but…
Joe’s gaze went to the table—no, not the table, but the photo album opened to an eight-by-ten of her and Mike. Before she could react, he’d moved over to get a closer look. “You and Katie’s brother?” He sat down.
Air, still flavored from this morning’s bacon, hitched in Les’s lungs. She wanted to grab the album away, but she knew how silly that would look. “Yes.” She walked over and dropped into a chair.
He turned the page and studied the pictures, images that had made up her and Mike’s life together. Les gritted her teeth.
“You two looked happy.” He turned another page.
“We were.” And that’s all she could take. She reached over and closed the album. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain.” The kitchen became so quiet the refrigerator’s motor sounded loud. He finally spoke. “Did Katie say anything to you about our talk?”
“I know the wedding is off.”
He inhaled. “I told her the truth, Les.”
“You mean about the shower?” She studied him.
“That…and the fact that I’ve got a thing for you.”
Carl waited for Katie to answer him. She didn’t. Instead, she turned to the door.
“Wait,” he said. “I have something for you. It’s in my car,” he added when she turned back. “Sort of…a gift.”
“A gift?” She looked panicked at the idea.
“It’s not much.” He met her eyes again. She’s an engaged woman, he reminded himself. He walked to his car parked a few feet away and pulled out the manila-wrapped package.
A drop of rain fell as he made his way back to her. She opened the door to the gallery and held it open for him. They ducked inside.
The Latina who’d greeted him the first time popped her head out of a room from the back.
“It’s just me.” Katie set her purse behind the register.
Carl followed her and handed her his gift. “It’s not much.”
She placed the gift on the counter. With a lot more care than he’d taken wrapping the dang thing, she removed the paper.
She stared at it. When she looked up, he felt foolish. Foolish for giving it to her. “It’s the elephant painting. The one I told you about.”
She smiled, and again his gut ached from wanting things he couldn’t have. She’s an engaged woman. And even if she weren’t, Katie Ray wasn’t…she wasn’t his type.
He felt the need to explain. “I’m not saying it’s any good. Hell, I wouldn’t know good art if it came up and bit my…I just thought maybe it would remind you that if an elephant can do this, then so can you.”
Her eyes widened. She looked down at the painting and when she raised her head back up, she had tears in her eyes. One of those tears rolled down her cheek. Carl had no idea what he’d done to make her cry.
She brushed a tear away. “I canceled the wedding.”
“Oh, gawd!” Les dropped her forehead on the table and gave one good thud. She counted to ten before she raised her head. “Why in all of hell’s glory did you tell Katie that?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “We both agreed we needed to tell her.”
“I agreed to tell about the shower. I didn’t, did not, agree to tell her that we were attracted to each other.”
“I didn’t mean to tell—” Joe stopped talking. His eyebrow arched up. “We? You said ‘we.’ We are attracted to each other.”
“No!” she lied. Out-and-out lied. But no way in hell would she admit it.
“You’re attracted to me?�
�� he asked. “I thought so.”
She dropped her head back on the table.
Joe’s laugh a second later had her raising her head.
“How can you laugh about this? It’s not funny.”
His smile faded. “I know.”
“No, you don’t know. Katie’s my best friend and this is so fucking wrong!”
He leaned forward. “It’s not our fault.”
“And you think that makes a difference?” she asked.
His Adam’s apple went up and down. “Actually, it does make me feel better. Especially now that the wedding is off.”
“Well, I’m just thrilled you feel better, but I have news for you. It doesn’t make it right.”
He turned the soda can in his hands. “It’s not as if Katie and I broke up because of this. We both agreed we were wrong—”
“Wrong. Now there’s a word for you. As in this—this you-and-I thing—is wrong.” She shook her head. “Wrong.”
“Why? Why is it so wrong?”
“Why? Are you dense?”
“No.” He frowned. “However, I have had a bad, very bad day, and my brain might not be functioning at normal level. So why don’t you explain it to me.”
“You were engaged to my best friend. Does that ring a bell?”
He leaned back. “So, because I was involved with Katie, you can’t be involved with me?”
“You’re finally catching on.” She popped up from the chair and went to toss her drink in the garbage.
From behind, she heard him. “You don’t lie worth a shit.”
She swung around. Joe had the photo album in his hands again.
“It isn’t about Katie. This is why you won’t get involved with me.”
Carl stared at Red, and her words bounced around his skull. “I canceled the wedding.”
“Why?” Oh, hell, did he even care why? She wasn’t engaged anymore. The air suddenly tasted sweeter.
“Because you were right,” she answered.
“Right about what?” He stared at her.
“About the reasons I was getting married. About me flushing my ring. I don’t love Joe. No, I do love Joe, but I love Joe like I love Mike.”
Weddings Can Be Murder Page 19