by Tee O'Fallon
“You’re right I don’t, and I’m not.” He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. “But you do need to let me know when you have people coming over. That’s for your safety. And we still need to talk about what just happened.”
“No. We don’t.” She took a step back, desperately needing space from him and the regret in his eyes. “Please, let’s forget it ever did.”
“Forget?” His eyes narrowed then quickly shuttered as his expression became one of bland indifference. “Fine.”
Despite her own adamancy, hurt knifed through her at how easily and emphatically he’d agreed. “Excuse me.” Doing her best to ignore him—and failing miserably—she went to the intercom and pressed the button. “Penny?”
“It’s about time,” came Penny’s voice. “Are you going to let us in, or what?”
She pressed the gate button then faced Dayne again. His eyes were frosty and there was a discernible chill in the air. She hated the awkwardness between them. If only she hadn’t thrown herself at him. Literally.
He stalked to the door, opening it as a black limousine came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the stairs.
Outside, the sun had set. Cool, spring evening air blew inside. The driver came around and opened the rear door. A set of four-inch heels followed by long legs barely covered by a body-hugging red sheath alighted first from the limo.
“Katrina!” Penelope Lowell aka Penny held up two bottles of champagne as she walked up the steps. Penny leaned in to land air kisses on either of Kat’s cheeks, her straight-as-spaghetti dark brown hair brushing Kat’s face.
Behind them, Remy snorted, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Angus backing away as if he’d just seen the Wicked Witch of the West.
Natasha Cabot came next, wearing sparkly silver stilettos and a matching strapless cocktail dress. Nat flung her arms around Kat, enveloping her in an invisible cloud of Chanel No. 5, with which her friend habitually drenched her short red bob.
Elaina Griswold’s sharp hazel eyes glinted with amusement as she planted a kiss on Kat’s cheek. As was typical, the woman’s black silk Dior gown’s neckline plunged nearly to her belly button. If it weren’t for her butt-length blond hair covering her breasts, most of her bosom would be exposed for the world to see.
“Who is that?” Penny peered around Kat’s shoulder.
Dayne leaned against the doorjamb, his arms still crossed, tightening the shirt over his muscled chest and biceps. Remy’s head lowered, her eyes fastening on the other women. From the dog’s rigid posture, Kat understood Remy sensed something she didn’t like.
“Remy.” Dayne pointed inside the house. “Platz.”
The shepherd looked up at Dayne then actually seemed to shake her head, as if telling him he was crazy. With obvious reluctance, she turned and padded into the house. Angus followed, his squeaky toy now firmly gripped in his jaws.
Nat let loose with a catcall.
“Mmm, yummy.” Elaina licked her lips in a none-too-subtle gesture. “That’s quite a big dog,” she murmured huskily, making it clear she was referring to Dayne, not Remy.
Penny arched a dark brow. “You’ve been holding out on us, Katrina. No wonder we haven’t seen you around.”
Seen me around? Didn’t they know Amy had been murdered?
“If I had a man like that in my house,” Nat chimed in, “I’d never leave home, and I’d never let him out of my bed.”
Kat’s cheeks heated at the reminder of exactly what had happened in her bed. And what hadn’t. Her friends followed her to the door, their heels clicking on the bluestone. “This is FBI Special Agent Dayne Andrews.”
“Ladies.” He made brief eye contact with each of them.
“Ooh,” Elaina crooned. “Special Agent. Fascinating.” If a person’s eyes could slither, hers did unabashedly down Dayne’s body.
He arched a brow then scanned the property behind where they all stood.
Ever alert. Not even three beautiful, flirtatious women could derail him from his duty.
“Will you be joining us for a little bubbly?” Penny held up the two bottles of Dom Perignon.
“Thank you, but no.” He stepped aside for them to enter. “I’m on duty.”
“Oh, right.” Penny slipped past him, intentionally brushing her upper arm against his chest. “I forgot, Kat, that you have a bodyguard.”
Kat rolled her eyes, something that was happening with increasing frequency lately. Her mother had always told her the gesture was unseemly and rude. Worse, a spurt of jealousy made her want to slap that lascivious expression right off Penny’s painted face.
Lord, what is happening to me? Cursing, eye rolling, and now this—smacking her friends for being such…tramps. Who am I to call anyone a tramp?
“Maybe we can change your mind.” Natasha started past Dayne, batting her eyelashes.
“I bet I can.” Elaina dragged one long, blood-red polished fingernail over his bicep.
Kat nearly rolled her eyes again. For the first time in her life, she was embarrassed by her friends. They treated Dayne as if he were their new toy. Boy toy. It was disgusting, and it was sexual harassment, for god’s sake. He was handling it surprisingly well, though. With courtesy they didn’t deserve.
At about six foot four, well over two hundred pounds, and loaded with hard muscle, there was no doubting he could take care of himself physically. That didn’t mean he had to suffer being pawed at like he was their next meal.
Champagne corks popped as Dayne closed the door behind them.
“Where are your glasses?” Penny began opening and closing cupboard doors.
“I’ll get them.” She opened the one cupboard Penny hadn’t tried and took down four slender Baccarat champagne flutes. While Penny poured, Kat held her hand over her mouth and yawned. Alcohol was the last thing she wanted or needed. All she wanted was to fall into bed and sleep for a week.
A squeak came from the living room where Remy and Angus fought over the puppy’s toy.
Nat accepted a flute from Penny. “Why do you let dogs in your house? They’re so dirty.”
“Dogs are a lot cleaner than you’d think.” Reluctantly, Kat accepted a glass then glanced at her watch. How fast can I get them out of here?
“Can’t you see she likes animals?” Elaina nodded to where Dayne reached for his jacket, the movement tightening his slacks over his extremely tight, muscular backside. “The man moves like a jungle cat. A very hot jungle cat.”
“Knock it off.” Kat gripped the stemware tighter. He was out of earshot, but she hated her friends talking about him that way. Plus, the thought of him with another woman… Well, let’s just say that veil of irritation was jealous pea green.
“Where does he sleep?” Penny whispered.
Dayne joined them in the kitchen, heading straight to the coffeepot and scooping fresh coffee into a filter. He had to have heard Penny’s insinuating question. From the tight set of his jaw, he didn’t like it.
“Please, ignore her,” Nat said. “It’s that time of the month and she’s in heat.”
“In that case”—Elaina winked—“it’s always that time of the month for her.”
The women snickered.
Kat tapped her finger on the rim of the glass, finding their sexual banter and innuendos increasingly obnoxious, to the point where she was on the verge of kicking them out. Twenty minutes. Thirty, tops. Just to be polite.
Penny draped an arm over Kat’s shoulder. “So tell us, what was it like finding a dead body?”
She stared at the tiny bubbles floating to the surface of her glass. Try two bodies. Reliving those moments was the last thing she wanted.
“Leave her alone,” Elaina said. “Let’s talk about something else. Did Nat tell you she’s seeing Chad?”
Kat jerked her head up, staring first at Elaina then Nat. Chad? My Chad? We
ll, not hers, not anymore. Reality check. He was never mine.
Dayne caught sight of what must have been a horrified look on her face and stopped filling the coffeemaker with water. What did it say about her friends when he was the only one to pick up on her feelings? He didn’t even know who Chad was to her.
Losing Chad didn’t matter. Not anymore. That last thought surprised her, and she loosened the death grip she’d had on the champagne flute. The anger she’d expected to feel at Nat for moving in so quickly on her ex wasn’t there. Betrayal, however, was.
Nat should have been the one to tell her first. Hearing it from someone else, the same way Penny had so bluntly delivered the news that Chad was dumping her because he heard he’d have to sign a prenup, was totally insensitive.
“Well, not seeing him exactly,” Elaina added, “but definitely sleeping with him.”
“Elaina, that’s enough!” Nat slapped Elaina’s shoulder. Champagne slopped over the edge of Elaina’s glass.
Kat stared at the wet floor. She didn’t care that they were sleeping together, either. Drawing on years of ingrained courtesy, she mustered a smile.
“Ladies, have a good evening.” Dayne grabbed a mug and the entire carafe, taking it with him into the library.
All three women repositioned themselves to eye Dayne’s backside.
Elaina’s lips curved in a decidedly feline smile. “That man is fine.”
Yuck. Her friends’ behavior had always been this way, and in that regard, they were consistent to a fault. The problem wasn’t that they hadn’t changed. She had.
Tolerating them wasn’t as easy as it once had been. Or maybe she was finally seeing them for what they really were: a trio of rude, snobby bitches.
What’s happening to me?
The only thing certain was the driving need to get them out of her home.
…
Dayne held the first edition Sherlock Holmes novel in one hand, his mug of coffee in the other. His fourth mug. It was eight o’clock, and he’d been sucking down java for the last three hours. At this point, he was more wired than the inside of a computer. He was caffeinated as fuck.
Blood pumped through his veins at light speed, but he actually found Kat’s library peaceful. Peace that was interrupted by sounds he hadn’t known a human being could make.
He’d left the library door partially open. Not enough to protect his eardrums from the occasional high-pitched squeals and giggles. Not once did he hear Kat’s voice. He imagined her sitting calmly in one of those big overstuffed chairs, listening politely while her friends rambled on. Those women knew no boundaries. Definitely the kiss-and-tell type.
Yeah, and speaking of kissing…
Blood shot straight to his dick, and he shut his eyes, reliving every hot, wild moment in Kat’s bed. His body had been on fire, and hers had been soft and pliant beneath him. When she’d dragged her short nails down his back and dug her fingers into his muscles, his entire body hummed with the need to sink deep inside her. Maintaining distance from her had gone totally to hell. Things were all good until she’d reached for him. That’s all it had taken. One touch and he’d gone ballistic in her arms.
He snapped the book shut. Weak. That’s what he was around her. He’d been drawn to her from the start and knew it was wrong. Screwing his witness would be supremely unprofessional and way past irresponsible. He was sworn to protect her. Not make love to her like his next breath depended on getting inside her.
Didn’t matter that she’d been a willing participant or that she’d instigated it. He’d been right there with her. He’d wanted her and still did. When he agreed to sex amnesia, he’d been lying his ass off. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes. It was brief, but it had been there, and it was like a justifiable kick in the balls. But it was his best armor against her because it couldn’t happen again.
Shortly after he’d made his escape to the library, the dogs had slunk in to take refuge and now slept in the center of the ornate Persian rug. The library truly was amazing. With its fourteen-foot high ceiling, and every square inch of wall space jam-packed with books, it was like a museum, just for books.
Laughter from the living room had Remy’s ears twitching. Angus’s hind legs kicked as if he were running in his sleep. The women’s voices grew louder as they entered the foyer. Thank you, Jesus. They’re leaving.
He pulled his phone from his belt and texted the guards. If the guys were smart, they’d hide inside their vehicles until Kat’s friends were off the property.
Friends my ass.
He’d wanted to say something but held back. Who was he to criticize the people she surrounded herself with? His role in her life was temporary. Whom she hung out with was none of his business. Just like it was none of his business who Chad was. Sounded like the guy was a total prick. But Nat was worse for going after him without telling Kat.
Let it go.
Why couldn’t he?
Because he cared. The admission had him mentally kicking himself. Involving his emotions in a homicide investigation was a bad idea. Emotions got people killed.
Another minute went by before the front door opened and closed, followed by the limousine pulling away. He exhaled a long, caffeine-laden breath. The plan was to walk off all his pent-up energy outside with the dogs then try to get some shut-eye.
Kat’s heels sounded as she came into the library. “I need to apologize.” Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her shoulders sagged. “I won’t have them over again as long as you’re here. In fact, I may never have them over again at all.”
“It’s your home.” He set the book on the table and stood. “You can have anyone over that you like. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. The white elephant in the room was gaining weight by the second, and they both knew it. If he could go back in time, would he change anything?
I never should have touched her.
She bit her lower lip, looking adorable but upset. “The only thing I want to say about what happened upstairs, is that I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry for that. You were hurting. You still are.” We both are. “For the record, I wanted to, but I can’t. You’re a witness. My job is to protect you, not…” Yeah, he didn’t have to say it.
“I know.” Still not looking at him directly, she went to a corner of the library and pulled a book from the shelf. As she flipped through it, several worn pages slipped out and drifted to the floor. Dropping to her knees, she began gathering the sheets. Dayne joined her and picked up one of the pages, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” Taking excessive care not to touch him, she tucked the pages back into the book then ran her hand reverently over the cover’s worn, faded edges. There was no picture on the cover, only the title: Dogs of Character, by Cecil Aldin. “As a child, this was my favorite book. My father gave it to me. I must have read it fifty times. I even read it again last year. It’s so fragile now the pages practically disintegrate in my hands.”
“What’s it about?” He tried imagining her as a little girl sitting on one of the giant leather sofas, snuggled up with the book in her hands.
“The author wrote it for children to help them decide what breed of dog would suit them best and how to train it. There are so many beautiful illustrations inside. The last promise my father ever made to me was that he would find a first edition signed by the author, one that wasn’t falling apart.” She smiled tiredly.
“I take it he never did.”
“No.” Her smile faded as she returned the book to the shelf. “Not for lack of trying. The book is rare, written in 1927. There are a few available on the internet. The problem is finding one in good condition, and the author only signed two hundred fifty first editions. Growing up, this book—and, dogs, of course—were my bes
t friends.” She sighed. “I thought I was lucky to have found real friends, but sometimes I never know why people want to be around me. Not for sure.”
“Do you consider those women your friends?” He hoped not. With backstabbing friends like that, he’d be looking over his shoulder twenty-four seven.
She hesitated. “I’ve known them since I was a child.”
“The amount of time you’ve known someone doesn’t automatically make them a friend. In case you didn’t notice, not once in the last three hours did they ask how you were or say anything about you losing a close friend. None of them—including Colin—was there for you at the funeral home, but they show up here with champagne to celebrate?”
Her lips compressed. “Don’t you think that’s being a little harsh?”
“It’s the truth.”
She lifted her chin high, pressing her lips together. “Maybe I just didn’t see it until now.”
“See what?”
Her shoulders sagged more, as if she carried the weight of the world on them. “That most people are only my friends because they want something from me.”
“Money?”
“Yes, but not always. Sometimes, all they want is association. Wealth, fame, and the power that comes with it has to be wielded wisely and with compassion.”
“That’s a heavy burden.” One he couldn’t imagine. He was also beginning to understand her need to isolate herself in this castle. These walls were her protection. She had everything yet just might be the loneliest person he’d ever met.
“I’ll survive.” The phony smile she pasted on didn’t convince him. “Not to worry. I’ve lived with it all my life.”
“I’m not worrying, I—” Liar. He’d crossed way over the line and stepped ass-deep into her personal life. A mistake he kept repeating. He shoved a hand through his hair. The best thing he could do was to make a tactical retreat before he opened his big mouth again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not my place. It’s just that—” Don’t say it. “You deserve better.”