Erica Lucke Dean - To Katie with Love (16 page)

“Bitch.” She started to walk away, and I was certain I would be rid of her for at least the next half hour, but she stopped dead in her tracks and spun back around to face me. “Did you hear about the murder in New York yesterday? It was someone fairly important. The news said it was a mob thing. Isn’t that a crazy coincidence? Someone in Atlanta gets themselves killed by the mob and then, someone in New York gets killed.”

“You mean, with New York being so famous for its crime-free streets? People get killed all the time, Vicky, especially in major cities. The world is a scary place. You should stop watching the news if it bothers you so much.”

She had an odd expression on her face, almost triumphant. “Didn’t you say Cooper was in New York yesterday?”

Crap! So much for getting any work done today.

YOU CAN GOOGLE JUST ABOUT ANYTHING

I
spent the next hour surfing the internet, looking for information on the mob hit in New York. The victim was a wealthy business owner living in an upscale section of Manhattan.

It’s just a coincidence
.
Damn Vicky!
She was trying to get me worked up and paranoid for absolutely no reason. I was pretty sure millions of people lived and breathed in New York City. Any one of them could have killed that businessman. I knew better than to think Cooper was capable of such a horrible thing. I knew everything I needed to know about him.
Almost everything.

Of course, I started with a Google search of Cooper Maxwell. I found a doctor in Hawaii and a hair salon in Toronto. There was absolutely nothing listed about
my
Cooper. He didn’t even have a Facebook page. Even
I
had a Facebook page. How could anyone have as much money as Cooper and not have a single mention on the internet?

I tried to clear Vicky’s smug expression out of my head as I clicked back through the story about the murder. I certainly couldn’t imagine him shooting someone while talking to me on the phone or between text messages.
Oh hey, Katie. Love you. Miss you. Disabling security cameras is a pain! Be right back while I shoot someone. Did you get your flowers?

I closed the internet window and rocked back in my chair. Was I supposed to ask him outright?
Oh, honey, I was wondering… was that really chili sauce on your sleeve or was that blood from your latest hit?
I knew I was being ridiculous.

I dialed Cooper’s cell phone.

“Katie?” He sounded surprised to hear from me.

“Hi,” I squeaked out.

“Is something wrong?”

“Missed hearing your voice.” And I did. I was sure talking to him would completely dispel any of the crazy notions Vicky had been trying to force into my paranoid, pathetic skull.

“What happened to work?”

“I’m still working.” I hadn’t done a single bit of work since Vicky.

“Well, you’d better stick to it. I don’t want to be accused of distracting you from your job.” I could hear his lopsided grin.

I nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see me.

“Katie? Are you still there?”

“I’m here. I miss you. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

I still felt anxious as I dropped into the passenger seat. “Hi, you,” I said.

“Hi yourself.”

“Did you find time to miss me?”

He leaned in for a quick kiss. “I did nothing else the entire time I’ve been gone.”

“Certainly you must have done something else. Didn’t you have work to do?” I forced a big smile.

Cooper tipped his head. “Maybe a little.”

“Hmm. I did a little work before I got distracted.” I glanced out the windshield at my coworkers inside the bank, then back to Cooper’s face. “I checked your accounts after you left. You know, to prepare myself for balancing.” I watched his expression, and for a fleeting second, I saw a smile touch his lips. “Anyway, we should talk about what you’d like to do with that extra two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Oh.” His forehead furrowed for a second before smoothing out again. “I wasn’t expecting it so soon. It’s too much to be sitting in my checking account, isn’t it?”

My lips curved up in another forced smile. “Yes. It is. You don’t get wires very often. Is that why you went to New York?”

“Sort of.” He adjusted the rearview mirror. “I had business there.”

“Oh.” I turned back to the window. I needed another approach. “So where are you taking me to lunch?”

“That depends. How hungry are you?”

“Not very.” I was actually starving.

“Would you rather do something else?” He flashed a crooked grin.

“Actually, I would.” I faced him and swallowed hard.

“What?” He laughed, but it came out as a nervous sound.

“Well, you’ve seen me at work so many times…” I laced my fingers together on my lap and squeezed. “I’d like to see where
you
work.”

“Okay.” Cooper drew the word out slowly.

“Perfect.” My face split in a wide smile.

“So…”

“So?”

“Why so curious today?”

Just wondering if you’ve been out killing people lately, honey.
I shrugged.

“No special reason?” He raised his eyebrows. “Talking to Vicky maybe?”

I felt guilty for being suspicious. I had to hand it to Vicky… being sneaky was hard work. But I’d read a lot of romantic suspense. I was sure I could pull it off. “So where are we headed?”

“Back to the house.”

I looked at him sideways. “Your house?”

Cooper nodded slowly. “My office is at my house, but there’s nothing much to see. A desk and chair, that’s basically it. My job doesn’t exactly chain me to one place. I’ve even been known to work at the kitchen table. It really just depends on if I’m under the gun or not.”

Under the gun?
My body went rigid. “Oh. You know what…?” I ran a list of scenarios through my head. If Cooper worked from home, there was an easier way. “Let’s go eat Italian instead. I think my appetite’s back.”

And I’m going to need my strength.

THIS NEVER HAPPENED TO NANCY DREW

M
en are, at their core, fairly simple creatures.
Even wonderfully kind, gentle, brilliant men could be tricked by really good sex. It made a woman feel powerful. Or in my case, slightly guilty.

Cooper had finally fallen asleep. I didn’t really
want
to trick him. Even if I did have a good reason. And I definitely had a very good reason. We’d talked for hours about everything and nothing, but not once in that time did he offer up a single shred of information about his career. Not the slightest detail. So I decided to resuscitate the terrible plan I’d hatched at lunch.

On the surface, it seemed like a pretty good idea. For over three glorious, mind-blowing hours, I encouraged him to try several very strenuous, almost decadent sexual positions in the hope he would pass out from exhaustion. He was thrilled. We started on the sofa and ended up on the bed, and I believed we may have been everywhere in between.

I really should have passed out right along with him after that last intense round. He was incredible, and his stamina was impressive, but I was running on pure adrenaline. I was a woman on a mission. I felt there would be no reasonable excuse to keep his profession from me unless he had something to hide. Exactly
what
he was hiding remained to be seen.

I carefully slithered out of bed and grabbed his shirt from the floor. I slipped it on and buttoned most of the buttons. I couldn’t go creeping around his massive house in the middle of the night wearing absolutely nothing.

I stood perfectly still for a moment, waiting to see if he would stir. He didn’t. His face was buried in his pillow, his arm tucked over the other pillow I’d put in my place. His breathing was deep and even. He was definitely asleep.

I had to restrain myself from bending down and pressing my lips against his tousled hair. Instead, I grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand and slinked out of the room. I gently closed the door behind me and practiced in my head what I would say if I was caught sneaking around in the dark.

I was looking for something to drink.
Then I remembered the bottled water he kept in the mini fridge in the sitting room.
I was craving a midnight snack.
Right, because I always wake up in the middle of the night, hungry for marshmallows. I knew he didn’t have anything else to eat in his kitchen.

I heard a strange noise
. And he would believe I was brave enough to investigate on my own? Ridiculous.

Even I wouldn’t believe any of those excuses, and according to Phil, I’m a complete novice. I would just have to cop to the crime and say I couldn’t sleep and was—not
snooping
because that sounded too dishonest—investigating my surroundings.

I was looking for a book.
That might actually convince him. He knew I loved books.

I crept down the stairs very carefully because the only light came from the faint glow of the moon. I waited until I reached the bottom before I flipped open my cell phone for light.

Cooper had said he worked from just about anywhere, so I decided to start in the keeping room. I had officially been introduced to that part of the house the other night, so I knew the layout. I was extremely familiar with the sofa and blushed as I walked by it…
leg one of our triathlon.
The things he’d done to me on that sofa were definitely taboo. I took one last look around the room and didn’t see anything that might be a clue.

I still didn’t want to turn on the lights as I made my way into the kitchen. Somehow, I felt safer cloaked in darkness as I nosed around. I pointed the glow from my phone toward the counter, but it wasn’t enough to see. I opened the refrigerator to shed more light on the room and proceeded to investigate.

His drawers were stocked with the usual things—flatware, napkins, potholders, rolls of aluminum foil, plastic wrap, boxes of zipper bags—all useless items in a kitchen with no food. His upper cabinets housed very nice glassware and china. Other shelves revealed a full set of stainless steel pots and pans, large ceramic mixing bowls, and measuring cups and spoons.

In his pantry was nothing but a single bag of marshmallows, the big fluffy ones, and amazingly, still soft. As it turned out, I
was
sort of hungry, and since breakfast was still hours away, I stuffed one into my mouth. The instant the powdery sweetness touched my tongue, I let out a tiny groan of pleasure. I should have eaten more at dinner.

Just as I was about to pop in a second one, I spotted a row of hooks on the inside of one of the pantry doors. On each hook was a key. I turned my phone to shine a little more light on the faint printing above each one: garage, spare house, car, file cabinet.
Bingo!

I grabbed the bag of marshmallows because they were too tasty to leave behind and reached for the filing cabinet key. I heard the sound of footsteps behind me and froze.

Someone who was definitely
not
Cooper barked, “Don’t
move
!”

So obviously, I did the exact opposite. I screamed and threw the bag of marshmallows straight up into the air. The puffy white confections scattered like giant snowflakes.

“Down on the floor, lady,” the man demanded.

I heard the click of what could only be some sort of gun and imagined it pointing right at me. Prepared to hit the deck as ordered, I remembered I wasn’t wearing anything under Cooper’s shirt. I wavered for a moment, trying to decide would I rather die of embarrassment or of a gunshot wound.

“I said get down on the floor. On your knees.
Now!
” His voice echoed in the empty room.

A thundering noise built behind my ears like the sound of rain hammering against a tin roof, and a sharp jolt of panic rose from the pit of my empty stomach, threatening to send the marshmallow back up. Did Cooper know? Had he ordered a hit on me? Was I about to die for stealing a bag of marshmallows?

I wasn’t even aware tears were tumbling from my eyes until I tasted the saltiness on my lips. I thought I heard yelling from somewhere in the house. I wasn’t really sure because the roaring in my ears was almost deafening. I heard the timbre of a new voice, but I was too afraid to turn and look. And as far as I knew, the man with the gun trained on my head—or wherever he had it pointed—was still there, waiting for me to drop to my knees.

Then I distinctly heard Cooper’s furious voice. “What are you doing in my kitchen?”

“I-I was h-hu-hungry, and—”

“Stop!” Cooper yelled.

It was the end of my poor, pathetic little life; I just knew it. I felt myself falling apart as violent sobs shook me. Someone grabbed my shoulders from behind, and I screamed.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” Cooper pulled me tightly against his chest, enveloping me in his arms. “Get that fucking gun out of my girlfriend’s face!”

“Who the hell are
you
?” the man asked.

“I’m the guy who pays your fucking salary,” Cooper shot back. Then he turned to me. “Oh, Katie, I’m so sorry. I should have warned you about the motion detectors on the security system. Don’t move. I’ll be right back. I need to reset it so they’ll leave.”

Security system? Motion detectors? A new wave of sobs shook me. He probably thought I was crying because I was freaked out, which I was, but my new bout of tears was for another reason entirely. I was a terrible detective. A total failure. No detective in any book I had ever read would fail to disable the security system.

A few minutes later, Cooper scooped me into his arms again, and we stood quietly in the corner of the kitchen while we waited for the security team to leave. I felt the tension pouring from him as he held me.

“You came down looking for food? But you knew I don’t have anything in the house.” He cradled me tighter against his chest and kissed my hair.

I looked at the marshmallows scattered around the counter and floor. I still had the sweet taste of them on my lips, so I lied brilliantly. “You had these.” I reached for the closest marshmallow and held it up for inspection.

He paused, staring at the sugary treat for an impossibly long minute. “I’ll have the kitchen stocked by the time you get off work tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that was really the issue this time.” I nodded in the direction of the exiting men with guns.

“Yes, well. They’re gone now, and I’ll see to it you have the codes for the alarm system in the morning.”

“You don’t have to do that. This is all my fault.” A fresh batch of tears escaped my puffy eyes. “I shouldn’t have been sneaking around your house. I knew better. You told me you didn’t have any food. I was just seeing what I could dig up.”

“No. I want you to feel at home here.” He brushed my tears away with his thumbs. “You should be able to rummage through my kitchen if you’re hungry. You’d be able to do that at your own house.”

“Maybe I should just stay at my own house.” I hoped he would say something like, “Don’t be ridiculous,” or “Absolutely not.”

“Do you
want
to go home? I wouldn’t blame you if you did after being accosted in the night by armed men.” He surveyed my appearance for the first time since he’d saved me from being shot. “And you aren’t even wearing very much, are you? You’d think that would have been their first indication you belonged here. This is unacceptable. I should have been more careful. I’m not used to having anyone here other than myself. It’s no excuse, but it’s all I have.”

I felt even guiltier. And I’d already been feeling pretty guilty before he started blaming himself. I had been the one creeping around in the dark, doing reconnaissance without underwear. “It’s not your fault, Cooper. I should have told you I was hungry. I know you would have come down here and scavenged for marshmallows for me.” I used my best
sexy voice,
which oddly enough, I was getting pretty good at.

“Of course I would have. I would have probably gone out and gotten you something a little more nutritious than marshmallows if you wanted. I was just thinking of you standing here wearing nothing but my shirt, which looks amazing on you, by the way.” He took in my state of undress again with a shadow of his lopsided grin, then shook his head. “I feel horrible that you had a gun pointed at you while I was lying in bed, thinking you were sleeping beside me.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I screamed.” I was pretty sure that was an understatement.

“Yes. A very good thing.” He kissed the top of my head. “Are you still hungry, my little forager?”

I shook my head. “No, I think I’ve had it scared out of me.”

“Can we go back to bed then?” He slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me against him.

I was glad he did. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I thought I might fall down. “I don’t know if I can sleep yet.”

“I was counting on that.”