by Nancy Holder
“That’s no good. Rubber chicken at five o’clock,” Vincent announced. A waiter was heading their way with a plate in each hand.
“Ravi could be okay.” She sat back slightly so the waiter could serve her. A mixed salad in a miniscule golden bowl. “But I don’t think he’s the one.”
“Not the one,” Vincent echoed. “Maybe I should pay him a little visit. Beast out and scare him off.”
Cat smiled faintly. He’d never do it, but it was sweet to see how protective he was of her little sister.
“I’d do it, too,” he said.
“I know.” She grinned and covered his hand with hers. Then she made a face. “Oh, my God. You don’t think he gave her that rash, do you?”
“Are these seats taken?” A quartet of newcomers approached their table—two couples attired in finery. Cat shook her head and made a welcoming gesture.
“Please,” she said. “Those four are still up for grabs. I’m Catherine Keller. And this is my husband, Vincent.”
“ER,” Vincent said, half-rising to shake hands.
As they made their introductions, her anxiety about Heather receded into the background. She was here with her wonderful soul mate, the man for whom she had been destined. They had risked everything to be together, and they had triumphed. Together, they could handle anything. And they would.
“It didn’t look like an STD,” Vincent said under his breath.
The woman who had been about to sit down froze. “I beg your pardon?”
“Just shop talk,” Cat said mildly. “My, this tomato looks tasty.”
“He’s probably dumping her right now,” Vincent said. “Texting her while they’re standing on line.” Then he smiled at the newcomers. “No one here has an STD.”
CHAPTER THREE
Tess Vargas flashed her biggest fake smile at her brother as she stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside JT Forbes and held out her hands for the drop. “I’m telling you, Jamie. We’ve got this,” she said.
Her brother chewed the inside of his cheek, his “tell” that he was not quite committed to his decision. “You screw this up and you’re dead.”
No, you’re dead, Tess thought. Despite the fact that her brother was a hardened NYC cop just like the other four, Jamie’s wife ruled the roost. And the tawny little chihuahua struggling in her brother’s arms was officially Connie’s dog, not Jamie’s.
“We won’t screw up,” Tess insisted. “It’s one tiny dog.”
“This is not just a dog. This is Princess Mochi,” her brother shot back, nuzzling the dog’s tiny face. She bared her fangs and snapped at him, and he jerked back his head.
“Um, I think she may be peeing on you,” JT drawled.
Her brother swore under his breath and straightened his arms. Princess Mochi dangled above JT’s marble floor. She yipped. Her teeth flashed and her bulbous dark eyes seemed to go red in the subdued lighting. Princess Mochi, right. Princess of Hell.
Tess took the dog from her brother and set her gently on the floor. Princess Mochi spun around and around in a circle like a windup toy and took off like a shot. Her tiny nails clicked on the stone.
“She just wants to inspect her new territory,” Tess ventured. “You should take off. You’re delaying the inevitable.”
“No, seriously, I can’t wait to go to Disney World with twelve of my closest in-laws,” her brother grumped. “Did I mention that Connie’s brother is on anti-psychotic medication?”
“Antidepressants,” Tess corrected. “Give it a chance. You’ll have fun.”
“And her uncle spits wherever he feels like it and calls me Chachi?”
“That’s better than dumbass, which is what I call you,” Tess said. She pointed to the door. “Go. Get your ears on.”
“If anything happens to Princess Mochi…” He wagged a finger at her. “I’m not kidding, Tess.”
Like a mosquito, the chihuahua buzzed into Tess’s line of vision. Whirring beside JT’s sofa, she uttered chuffing noises and assumed a squat.
“No!” JT thundered, darting toward her. “No, bad dog!”
“She is not a bad dog. There are no bad dogs,” Jamie said. “You need to tell her what you want.”
“Oh, I’ll tell her, believe me,” JT said between clenched teeth.
“No hitting! Hit her and I will shoot you,” Jamie said.
“Who beat whom at the shooting range?” JT reminded him. At a recent birthday party, JT had gotten pissed off at the way Tess’s brothers were dissing her and scored well enough on a paper target to qualify for sergeant.
“Okay, we’re done here.” Tess flattened her hands on her brother’s chest, turned him around, and pushed him toward the door.
“No hitting the dog,” her brother said.
“None. Ever. JT would never hurt a fly.”
“You have her feeding schedule. Her food. She needs two walks a day.”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” And if I didn’t owe you for covering for me when I forgot Cousin Sal’s birthday, someone else would be walking her. Like at a boarding facility.
At the door, her brother turned back around. “Don’t forget to brush her teeth before bedtime.”
Brush her teeth? Oh, my God.
“No problem.” She opened the door.
“Ouch! She bit me!” JT howled.
“You’re upsetting her with this long, drawn-out goodbye,” Tess told her brother.
“I love you, Mochi,” Jamie sing-sang in a lovey-dovey voice. “Be good for Aunt Tess and Uncle JT!”
She firmly put him outside like a garbage can and shut the door in his face. Then she fell against it and sighed before heading across the room to assess the damage. Clutching Mochi against his chest, JT was staring in horror at his right arm.
Two tiny pinpricks stared back at him and Tess. Mentally she rolled her eyes. She loved JT, but she did not love his hypochondria. “Let me get the antiseptic.”
“And the rabies shot,” he grumped. “Remind me again why we’re doing this.”
“It’s nothing. Like I told my brother, we’ve got it.” She retrieved the first aid kit from behind the bar. And a bottle of Scotch.
“How long are we doing this?” JT asked.
“A week. We can do anything for a week.”
“Hah. Trying holding your breath for seven days. Please hurry with a bandage. I’m bleeding all over the floor.”
A flutter of nausea caught Tess off guard. It was one of many flutters she had experienced lately. No, I can’t be, she thought, and an image of the unopened pregnancy test kit that she had bought yesterday flashed through her mind. The kind with the little stick you peed on, and then if a cross appeared in the little circle, it was positive.
“And for your information, I would hurt a fly. I’ve been known to beat up bad guys. I am very fierce.”
“Yes, JT, you are fierce. And brave.”
Much braver than Tess.
No way was she peeing on that stick.
CHAPTER FOUR
Something tells me that he’s not nervous because he’s going to propose, Heather thought, as she and Ravi finally snagged his gin and tonic and her appletini at the charity dinner’s rooftop bar. The line was a mile long. Her rash was on fire. Ravi was looking everywhere except at her and while she’d had a lot of bad experiences with guys, that translated into a lot of experience, period, and she knew a brushoff when she saw one. She may as well face the truth now. Ravi just was not that into her.
Then suddenly he brightened, set his drink down on the edge of a burnished planter containing a miniature Italian cypress, and enfolded her in an embrace. She inhaled his spicy cologne with her sharp intake of breath and allowed herself to melt against him. So much for the brushoff and hello cuddling.
“Heather,” he breathed. “Forgive me for seeming so preoccupied.”
“You had a rough day at work.” Her joyous words were muffled against his neck.
“That’s no excuse for ignoring such a beautiful woman.” He nibbled
on her ear and gathered her up even closer. “I need to learn how to turn off.”
On. You need to turn on. “I can help with that,” she said huskily. Her mind traveled to where her body was already going, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth in sudden panic. Wait. How could she get naked with him? With this hideous rash?
“Um,” she said. His hands were following the curves of her chest, and the fingertips of his right hand were dipping into the pocket of her jacket. They came back out as if he had realized he’d made a wrong turn.
Then he kissed her with such intense passion that her head swam. Just as she was getting into it, he released her. “We’re out in public,” he reminded her. “We should get back to the table, to your sister and her husband. You didn’t mention that she was a cop.”
“Why? Does it bother you?” Poor Cat; back in her dating years, she’d gotten dumped a lot because of her badge.
“In my country, police officers are rough. And corrupt.” He smiled. “I’m sure your sister is very different.”
Not as different as my brother-in-law, Heather thought impishly, sipping her appletini. They laced their fingers and headed back to the table. She wasn’t certain her feet were connecting with the ground.
Maybe she could hide the rash with a good dollop of foundation.
Cat and Vincent were both gazing at the two of them intently; Heather couldn’t help a rosy smile. Maybe Ravi was the one. Maybe all the elaborate wedding plans she had made first for herself and Matthew and then for Vincent and Cat wouldn’t go to waste after all. Heather Suresh. Heather Chandler-Suresh. It had a nice ring to it.
A platinum ring. With a marquise-cut diamond.
“Chicken’s getting cold,” Vincent said with his mouth full. His tone was stern.
“It looks delicious.” Heather gave her attention to Ravi as he pulled out her chair for her. She sat back down as he pushed it back in.
“Oh, my phone just vibrated,” Ravi said, patting the pocket of his beautifully cut black trousers. “I must have a text. Excuse me.” He fished out a cell phone—not his usual one—and studied the display. His face fell. “Heather, I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”
“Oh?” She frowned at him. “Is there something wrong?”
He grimaced and put the phone back in his pocket. “It’s work. They need me to come back. An emergency. You know how it is.”
Heather did, actually, and while it sucked that this was happening, she did understand. When he brushed his lips against her cheek, she flashed him an unconcerned smile.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said.
“I know. Well, g’nite.” She glanced over at Cat and Vincent, who were regarding him stonily. They looked like disapproving parents, and a little frisson of defensiveness played her spine like a xylophone.
“It was very nice to meet you both,” Ravi said, and then he walked away. Heather watched him go, holding her breath and willing him to look back one last time at her. She had almost given up hope when he did turn, smiled, and mimicked holding a phone to his ear.
I’ll call you.
She wiggled her fingers at him and took another sip of her drink. Then she set it down and folded her hands on the table.
“People do get called into work, you know,” she ventured.
“No one texted him,” Vincent said in an undervoice. “He didn’t get a message.”
“How…?” Heather began, but she knew: Vincent had used his beast sense. His hearing was better than, like, a dog’s.
She finished her appletini in one gulp and picked up her wine glass just as a waiter filled it. White. Fine. She guzzled it down. Then she noticed the strangers at the table. “Good evening,” she said dully. She scooted back her chair and slid her arms out of the jacket. Her hands were shaking.
“I’m going home.” She rose and held the jacket out to her sister. “I’ll be by tomorrow before you fly out.”
“Heather, wait.” The jacket bundled in her arms, Cat began to get up. Every instinct within Heather ignited full blast to let her sister comfort her. But if Cat did, Heather would start crying.
Heather shook her head. “No, it’s okay, Cat. I-I’m just not in the mood for chicken, you know? It’s just… oh, my God, do you know how much I spent on this dress?”
She winced at the bemused expressions on the faces of the other people at their table. She would not cry in front of strangers. She would save it for her couch and her half-gallon of Moose Tracks. And lots of Netflix.
As she moved away from the table, she heard Vincent say, “That is not an STD.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Though he had a to-do list he should attend to, Vincent could barely keep his eyes off Catherine. As usual. She was so beautiful. In her stockinged feet and fluffy white bathrobe, she folded the jacket she had lent Heather with a sad little sigh. The Sea Majesty’s baggage service van was due in fifteen minutes and the jacket was the last thing left to put in her suitcase before she attached the TSA-approved lock.
Vincent had already completed his packing and was making last-minute notes for the charge nurse on his rotation at the hospital. Catherine had begun an email to Tess outlining her progress on a number of cases, and she’d vowed to finish it before she crawled in bed. He admired her work ethic and her dedication. They had both committed their lives to protecting others; it was no wonder they wrestled so hard with Homeland Security’s insistence that they continue working cases involving innocents who had been experimented on, as well as other beasts. If there still were any other beasts or victims of experimentation.
Hopefully we’re done with both.
He was tired at a bone-deep level. They’d been going full-out for so long; this fifteen-day cruise to the Hawaiian Islands was a belated honeymoon, and he fully intended to relax, recharge, and devote all his time and attention to making sure Catherine did the same. He hadn’t imagined that marriage would make him love her any more, but he couldn’t deny that the bond between them had been strengthened the moment they had spoken their vows and exchanged rings. He felt connected to her in a way he could never hope to explain. They were each still individuals, yes, but there was an incredible oneness that he had never experienced before. It was magical, mystical.
Truly, they had been destined.
The buzzer sounded and Catherine pressed the intercom. It was the luggage service, a nice touch: their suitcases would be flown ahead to Los Angeles and transported to the Sea Majesty. Everything would be waiting for them in their stateroom when they came on board. One less thing to worry about.
Catherine buzzed the driver in and Vincent helped organize the luggage in the elevator. Catherine, Heather, and Tess had gone shopping last week for some “special items” that had been declared top secret.
I can’t wait to see them. On her, he thought happily. As the elevator doors shut, he gathered Catherine in his arms. She nestled against him.
Then her cell phone trilled.
“You’re on vacation,” he reminded her.
“It’s Heather.” She took the call. He could hear every word, but tried not to. “Yes, of course,” Catherine said. “Sure. Now? Okay.”
She hung up. “She’s coming over now. She’s so upset,” she said by way of explanation. “So she’s just housesitting one night early.”
“No problem.” He was determined not to get sulky. He could afford to be generous. He would have fifteen glorious days—and nights—on a cruise ship with his wife. It was kind of Heather to watch the apartment for them; it was a nice break for her as she currently had a roommate. A win-win.
“You’re the best,” Catherine said, and kissed his cheek. And then his mouth. And then his chest.
Plenty is never enough…
They moved to the couch. She was still kissing various parts of his body when Heather unlocked the front door and let loose with a shocked little squeal.
“I didn’t see anything, I didn’t,” she cried, covering her eyes as she half-ran down th
e hall to where her bedroom used to be. “But next time, get a room for real, okay?”
The Kellers burst into giggles. Vincent scooped Cat up into his arms and carried her into their bedroom.
And locked the door.
* * *
Bathroom.
Pregnancy test.
Bathroom.
Pregnancy test.
Tess huffed and sat up in bed. Beside her, JT stirred but didn’t waken. But across the room, Her Royal Highness lifted her head from her puffy pink velour monogrammed dog bed—“PM”—and destroyed Tess’s eardrums with a piercing yip.
“What? What?” JT yelled, slamming into Tess as he attempted to scramble off the mattress. Tess grabbed hold of him.
“Easy. It’s just the dog,” Tess said.
Princess Mochi did not move as she yipped again. Tess’s ears hurt. She pushed back the covers and put her feet on the floor.
“What do you want? Breakfast in bed?” Tess asked.
“Maybe she has to go out,” JT said, fluffing up his pillow and lying back down. “You wake her, you walk her.”
“We did not agree to that,” Tess said. “And I didn’t wake her up.” Except maybe she had. And the dog had already had one accident on JT’s floor.
And if she walked the dog, she wouldn’t be able to take the test. A plus.
“Fine.” She rose, threw on underwear, jeans, a bra, a T-shirt, and some flip-flops, pocketed her phone, and grabbed the pencil-thin pink rhinestone leash. Princess Mochi descended from her little pink cloud and sat beside Tess. Tess couldn’t deny that she looked pretty cute—she was so teeny—and she chuckled as she attached the leash to Mochi’s matching rhinestone collar. She picked up her phone—a habit that had become a necessity when she’d been promoted to precinct captain. Police business was now her business twenty-four seven. It was kind of like dog duty, actually.
Out the door they went, JT making a moaning sound in farewell. Tess checked her phone. Cat had texted On our way! with a picture of the two of them waving at her. Cat had a big fake hibiscus blossom tucked behind her ear. Sweet. She was so, so happy for her best friend. Cat and Vincent had been through hell and back and the bond between them was unbreakable. Not even dog-sitting could tear them apart. There was the whole he’ll-live-longer situation to deal with, plus they were talking adoption for having kids, but they had a love that would conquer all. Even a chihuahua.