Not Quite Mine (Not Quite series)

by Catherine Bybee

  Jack rubbed his chin. “You’d tell me if you’re in any trouble…have anything you need help with?”

  She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If I’m ever in a position where I don’t know what to do…or my options are washed up, I’d call you.”

  “People care about you.”

  “I know that.”

  “You can always call on Dean if I’m not here.”

  Her gaze shot to his.

  He didn’t flinch.

  What do you know? “Or Mikey. They’re both nearby.”

  Jack nodded. “Right. Dean is closer. You work with him.”

  “He reminds me who the boss is every chance he gets.”

  Jack let one corner of his mouth lift up. “Promise me you’ll call if you need me.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Promise me!”

  “OK, OK…I promise to call if I need you.” Right now she was doing fine on her own. She had a PI working day and night to find Savannah’s birth mom and Katelyn was juggling living in two places at once. She didn’t need anything other than a good night’s sleep.

  Katie leaned against one of the finished walls in the huge open space that would eventually be the lobby of the hotel. Beside her, Jo sipped a beer and focused on what her boss was saying.

  Dean stood in front of at least three dozen workers, all of them with drinks in their hands, and thanked them for all their hard work.

  “Does he always do this?” Katie asked Jo.

  “Every time we hit this phase and then again when the project is complete. It’s his way of keeping the employees and subs happy.”

  “Paying them makes them happy.”

  Jo snorted. “Yeah, but blowing off steam and sharing a beer builds loyalty. At least that’s what Dean says.”

  Katie looked around the room and the smiling faces and men listening attentively to their boss. She couldn’t argue with his approach to loyalty. Work had come to a halt just after noon and a large grill was set up outside. A caterer had arrived with tables, chairs, food, and drinks. Not only was Dean springing for the party, everyone on site was getting paid a full day’s wages to drink with the boss.

  No, Katie couldn’t argue with Dean’s approach.

  She sipped her champagne, thankful that Dean had the good sense to make sure a couple of bottles were available. Beer wasn’t her drink of choice.

  “I know I say this every time, but I couldn’t do this without all of you,” Dean told the crowd. “You’re dependable and skilled…the best damn crew I’ve ever worked with.”

  “We’re the only crew you’ve ever worked with,” someone shouted.

  Several men laughed.

  “Not true,” Dean corrected him. “Five years ago I went through a group of framers who couldn’t be counted on to save my life. Then there was that excuse for an electrician…no, you guys are what gives Prescott Construction its good name.”

  “And a few good women!” Jo yelled across the room.

  Katie smiled at Jo, lifted her glass in salute to the statement.

  “Even if one of them steals the boss’s hat and never gives it back.” The comment came from inside the crowd and all eyes were on Katie. She still wore Dean’s hard hat while his had gone through a number of pranks. First was the strip of pink paint then came a few rhinestones glued into the brim. Dean switched the hat out once the words “I’m so pretty” were printed on the back.

  Yet he never asked for his hat back.

  And Katie never offered it.

  That, she knew, was their way of teasing each other. Even after Jack had flown back to Texas and she’d had a brief but firm conversation with Dean saying that she wasn’t ready to have him kissing her right now.

  She couldn’t come out and tell him she never wanted him kissing her, because that would have been a lie.

  “He can afford another one,” Katie told the men.

  Dean caught her eye and spoke directly to her. “Miss Morrison is hard to say no to.”

  “Ha! Then why are there only five niches down the halls and not ten?”

  Laughter erupted from the men.

  Someone hissed like a cat.

  “Touché.”

  Dean turned back to his crew and continued his pep talk. He spoke about the next phase and his desire to have the hotel completed before the holidays. He finished up quickly and encouraged everyone to eat.

  Music filled the room from an impressive portable player and work was completely forgotten.

  Dean snagged an open bottle of sparkling wine from a bucket of ice as he walked toward her. “Looks like you could use a refill.”

  Katie lifted her glass.

  “Oh, is it Wait on the help day? I could use another beer, boss,” Jo said.

  Dean chuckled and turned to get her one.

  Steve was a step ahead of Dean and handed Jo a beer with a wink. “Here ya go, Jo.”

  Jo’s face turned beet red and her gaze drifted to the floor. “Thanks.”

  Looked like things had gotten interesting between these two. At last count, Jo had been snarky and standoffish and now there was a coy smile and knowing blush. Katie sipped her wine and watched.

  “Nice speech, Dean,” Steve commented.

  “I meant every word. I have a great crew.”

  “You make it easy for them. It’s hard to get work in this economy.”

  “Even when work wasn’t this hard to get, these men rose above the average. You know it. I know it.”

  Steve nodded and lifted his beer. “For many more projects to come.”

  Dean toasted and turned his attention back to Katie. “What about you, Katie? You think you’ll want to do this again after Jack’s hotel is finished?”

  She’d asked herself that question a few times. The job itself had thus far served its goal. It gave her direction and purpose. Then again, so did Savannah. Juggling the secret and the job…and Dean.

  “I think that’s a no,” Jo said.

  “No. I’d do it again. Will do it again.”

  “But?” Dean watched her intently.

  “I think I’ll take this to a new level. Manage others to do what I do.”

  “More than a worker bee.”

  “Is that what I am?”

  “Hardly,” Jo said over her beer. “Oh, c’mon,” she replied when all three of them stared at her. “Worker bees don’t set their own hours and come and go as they please.”

  Katie couldn’t help but see that Jo didn’t think very well of her. For some reason she wanted Jo’s approval.

  “You’re right. Bosses are the ones who work beyond nine to five and come in on the weekends,” Dean defended her. “Katie has worked hard on this project.”

  “We all have.” Jo didn’t seem affected by his words or his rising anger.

  Katie stepped in. “I realize that, unlike anyone else here, I’m the only one who hasn’t had to work to afford to live. I can’t alter the fact that I was born to money, which I wouldn’t change for the world. My father worked hard to make his fortune and Jack is doing the same. I’m just trying to figure out where I fit, Jo. I know I am the boss’s daughter, or in this case, sister, and it would be damn hard for Dean to fire me, but that doesn’t make me a slacker.”

  Jo’s face had gone blank. “I didn’t call you a slacker.”

  “Ya kinda did, Josephine,” Steve said under his breath.

  “Oh, hell…I didn’t mean to. Sorry, Katie.”

  “It’s OK.”

  “No, it’s not. I’ve been a little edgy lately, not that that’s an excuse. My mother would slap my butt if she knew I’d been so rude.”

  Jo simply vocalized what so many others thought. And that was refreshing…rude, but refreshing.

  “No worries.”

  Dean and Steve let the women work it out while they drank their beer. Steve broke the tension with a laugh. “Slap your butt. I’d like to see that.”

  Jo swiveled on him. “I’ll bet you would. And do
n’t call me Josephine!”

  Steve’s eyes grew wide. “Put your claws away, woman. Maybe food is the medicine you need.” He drew her in the direction of the food line leaving Dean and Katie alone.

  “Wonder what has her all fired up?”

  Katie thought of her own little bundle of fired up and shrugged. “Who knows? Let it go.”

  “Still…”

  “People have judged me every day of my life, Dean. That isn’t going to change. The truth is, I’ve never had to work and you can’t fire me.”

  “Seems to me you’ve made up for that by working harder, darlin’.”

  “I’m working harder because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Oh, please. Everything is a learning curve. And my boss’s budget is as tight as an ant’s ass.”

  Dean gifted her with his signature smile complete with the cleft in his chin and sparkle in his gray eyes. “I could put in a word with your boss, get a bigger budget.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “OK, OK…put your claws away, woman,” he repeated Steve’s words. “C’mon, you need food, too.” Dean slung an arm over her shoulders and shoved her toward the buffet.

  The same barbeque they had shared when he’d kissed her over two weeks ago.

  Patrick sauntered into The Morrison in Houston as if he owned the place.

  He glanced behind the front desk and noted an elderly woman who probably claimed at least eight grandchildren as her own.

  Miss May, he said to himself.

  He offered a friendly smile and walked straight for the elevators.

  The second set. Katelyn had told him the first ones didn’t access the penthouse level and the passkey wouldn’t work.

  Guests shuffled by with suitcases in hand. There were plenty of Stetsons and cowboy boots. So many that he thought maybe he should be wearing one or the other to fit in. He didn’t have time to think on it long before the elevator made a resounding ding and the doors opened.

  A few guests stepped into the elevator beside him and pressed the buttons for their floors.

  He stepped in and waved a mechanical key over an invisible sensor that would push the elevator to the top floor.

  He stared at the numbers as the elevator ascended, completely aware of the coy glances he was given as he rode the elevator with strangers.

  Twice the elevator stopped and guests stepped out. Each one turned to take a second look his way.

  Their actions told him one of two things: Whoever had dropped a baby off at Katelyn’s didn’t have a passkey. Or if they did, they certainly didn’t catch the elevator with another hotel guest or someone would have seen something.

  Patrick had stayed in a few fancy hotels in his time, but he hadn’t yet had the privilege of sleeping in a penthouse.

  Katelyn had mentioned that people noticed her when she walked by, but he thought it was because of her striking appearance and larger-than-life presence when she walked into a room. Patrick was none of those things and he’d been seen by a half dozen people, including one employee within minutes of walking in the door.

  The elevator opened to a short hallway with rooms only on two sides. One suite took up the west end of the hotel, the other took the east.

  Katelyn’s was number one.

  Fitting.

  The same key that let him on the elevator flashed a green light over the hotel door so he could enter Katelyn’s personal space without so much as a hello.

  He opened the door and at the same time removed a small notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket.

  Who makes the electronic keys?

  Who has access to the codes to Katelyn’s suite?

  He made a few more notes about housekeeping and room service. All of whom would be able to get up into the suite without detection.

  Much like the hotel he’d first met Katelyn in, this one was packed full of opulence and the evidence of money. Big money.

  Marble tile floors were a softer hue than the one in California, the decor feminine. There were fresh flowers in the vase by the door, which struck him as funny since Katelyn wasn’t expected to return to Houston anytime soon.

  He flipped on a switch and the room lit up. The sun was setting in Houston and the lights of the city were twinkling on the horizon. Patrick lost himself in the view for a moment.

  Did the mother of the child know what a privilege it would be to have her child grow up with enough money to afford this view in whatever city they lived? Did they know flowers would greet the baby every day?

  Did that play into the decision to give up Savannah?

  Patrick moved into the room and noticed a small light above his head turn red.

  Motion detector.

  Before continuing his perusal of Katelyn’s personal space, he opened the outside door once again and looked in the small corridor. Above the elevator, a motion detector turned red.

  He scribbled more notes in his notebook. Who was in charge of watching the detectors? When did they go off and alert the authorities?

  Patrick removed his jacket, hung it on the back of a chair, and noted the time on his watch. He sat on the large white sofa and crossed a leg over his opposite knee before picking up a magazine. Any security worth their salt would be at the door in less than two…

  Click!

  Make that thirty seconds.

  Patrick turned the page of the magazine and glanced up when two men wearing suits, but who certainly were armed, stepped into the room.

  “Miss Morrison?” they called out.

  “She’s not here,” Patrick told them.

  One of the men moved into the doorway but kept his left hip toward the hall. The other had a hand on a radio.

  “You would be who?” the large man in the doorway asked.

  Patrick stood and moved slowly to the man, extending his hand. “Ben Sanderson. Katie told me I could crash here tonight. I had an unexpected layover. Damn airline lost my luggage.”

  The security guard straightened and looked around the room. “She didn’t call ahead.”

  “She said she’d try…but she was with friends…out. Well, you know Katie. Call her, she’ll vouch for me.” He removed the key from his pocket and waved it in the air. “She gave me her key. I’ll be back in LA with her next week.”

  The guards exchanged a glance and proceeded to relax.

  “We’ll check with Miss Morrison.”

  “Suit yourself.” Patrick moved back into the room and picked up the phone. “Is the kitchen still open? Damn domestic flights don’t even serve peanuts anymore.”

  If there was one thing Patrick had learned in all his years of being a PI, it was that when you acted as if you belonged, people seldom questioned if you did.

  “Yeah, the kitchen’s still open.”

  “Thank God. I’m starved.” Ben allowed the kitchen to patch through the line and proceeded to order the chef’s special. He glanced around the room, noticed a bar, and knew he could pour himself a drink.

  The guards talked among themselves before they excused themselves, apologizing for their presence, and left. Patrick knew the guards would be back if Katie hadn’t dropped his name with someone in power at the hotel.

  Patrick kicked off his shoes after they were gone in case the place held hidden cameras. Best to act like he’d just gotten off an airplane.

  He poured himself two fingers of Crown Royal and brought the whiskey to his lips.

  The TV provided background noise while he waited for room service to arrive.

  Patrick noted the large cart in which the food arrived. One that could easily conceal an infant seat.

  He scribbled a note.

  He ate. Made himself at home.

  Enjoyed the opulence of high-rise and high-dollar living.

  Only after he’d forced himself from the room, under the guise of needing a cigarette and considering the home owner, he sauntered outside after dark and “accidentl
y” got lost in the far reaches of the hotel.

  There were plenty of his assignments that left him cold, hungry, and tired.

  This wasn’t one of them.

  I’m drunk.

  OK…maybe not drunk in the truest sense, but tipsy beyond anything Katelyn had been in the past several months.

  Many of the employees had stuck around long past five. They cranked up the music and kept drinking until the caterers had left and Dean pulled the plug. He called a series of cabs that arrived to take his more inebriated employees home.

  Such a thoughtful boss.

  Katie couldn’t bring herself to stand, let alone even consider driving home. And this was the one night a week that she spent at the hotel…alone.

  “Ready to go, darlin’?” Dean walked around the massive room turning off the work lights. Most of the mess had been cleaned up and what wasn’t would be picked up by the early morning workers over the weekend.

  “I think you should call me a cab, too, Dean. I haven’t drank that much since the wedding.” The wedding that changed her life in the most unexpected way.

  “Jack would have my ass if I poured you into a cab. Give me a minute and I’ll lock up the office before I see you home.”

  Dean walked from the room with all his Texan swagger and Katie had to close her eyes to help her focus. She hadn’t drunk that much but, on the legs of a lack of sleep, the alcohol must have shot straight to her head.

  She rested her eyes for a few seconds and waited for Dean to return.

  “Wake up, darlin’. Don’t want the staff to think I’m a schmuck taking advantage of the queen bee around here.”

  Katie woke with a start. She was in Dean’s truck with a seat belt over her lap. The bright lights of the hotel parking lot illuminated the truck and made her blink. “How did I get here?”

  “You were out. I managed to get you in here without waking you.”

  “Oh, my word.” She shook the fog from her brain and glanced at the clock. At least an hour had passed. “Look what time it is.”

  “Like I said, you were gone. I thought about taking you to my place but I didn’t want to scare you off.”

  She rubbed a hand over her face, completely ignoring her makeup. “What makes you think I’d scare that easily?”