Weddings Can Be Murder (17 page)

Katie had worked four hours and gotten one hour of work done. Her mind kept juggling problems.

Ball one: Tabitha’s demise and those reoccurring images. Katie worried about what had happened to the woman’s dog.

Ball two: Carl Hades. She wondered why she missed him.

Ball three: Joe and his confrontation with his mom. She worried about Joe and his mom’s relationship.

Ball four…Katie grabbed her cell phone and replayed Les’s message from the night Tabitha was murdered.
I’ll tell you about this really hot guy I met at the
restaurant
. Katie had a sneaking suspicion she now knew why Les hadn’t mentioned the shower scene: Joe Lyon hadn’t been the only one lusting in Katie’s shower.

Ball four was the one giving her the most problems at the moment. If confronted, Les would deny everything and probably run back to Boston. Yup. Les, who excelled at telling everyone else how they felt, sucked at admitting her own feelings.

Or was Katie making more out of this than she should? Did it mean anything that Les was physically attracted to Joe? Part of Katie wanted to say no, but then Katie knew
that Les hadn’t been attracted to anyone since Mike’s death.

Katie tried envisioning the results of such attraction. What if Joe and Les actually got together as a couple? How would that make her feel? Sitting back in her chair, she dug deep in her mental junk drawer seeking answers, thinking she’d find some sort of resentment. But, nope. It wasn’t there. And wasn’t that a confirmation that she and Joe were totally, completely, wrong for each other?

“Katie?” Lola said.

“Yes?” Katie looked up at the office door and to Lola, the gallery owner and one of the main exhibiting artists. Instead of seeing Lola, the image of Tabitha with blood pouring over her white suit played across Katie’s mind. Her stomach clenched.

“Katie?” Lola said again.

Katie shook off the sudden queasiness. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“There’s a guy here to see you.” Lola glanced down the hall, then back to her. “
Bien bonito
.” She kissed her fingers.

“Ben Hades?” Katie refused to hope otherwise. Ben had probably gotten her message. And honestly, that’s the only reason she’d called him earlier: about Tabitha’s dog. Not to ask about Carl.

Lola grinned. “I was so enamored, I didn’t catch his name.”

Katie stood. “He’s married, Lola.”

“Should have known. He’s marked by his woman already.” Lola ran her nails down her cheek.

Katie flopped back down in her chair. “Oh, fudge.”

“
Chica
, after the week you’ve had, you deserve to say ‘fuck.’”

“True,” Katie agreed. Planting her hands firmly on her desk, she squared her shoulders. She could do this. But whether she could do this without making a fool of herself was anyone’s guess.

Giving her ponytail a tug, she moistened her lips, then stood. Now, if she could just get her feet to move.

Looking at Lola, who swore she was part witch, Katie reached out and gripped her hand. “Give me some of your mojo, Lola.”

“What kind of magic you need?”

“The willpower kind. Lots of willpower.” She would not throw herself at Carl Hades—even newly single, she would not end up on his Poked List.

Carl walked around the room studying the art hanging on the walls. Seriously, the elephant in Mexico had more talent. And after looking at these, why didn’t Red think she could paint? He rolled his shoulders and tried to release his tension.

It had been a hell of a morning. First his dad’s announcement.
Marriage?
What had gotten into the old man? Then Ben hadn’t gotten the background info, and to top it off the photographer, Mel Grimes, in spite of their appointment, hadn’t been home. That got Mr. Grimes on Carl’s look-at-closer list. Grimes didn’t know it, but it wasn’t a good list to be on.

Hoping the morning wouldn’t be a total waste, he’d driven by the florist’s shop, only to find that the owner, Mr. Jack Edwards, hadn’t been in, either. Today at three, Carl had the appointment with the DJ, and had managed to make a five o’clock with the cake maker, Todd Sweet. He hoped Ben got the info back before then. Going in with some knowledge under his belt was always best.

Carl heard footsteps and swung around. The moment he saw her, the ground shifted beneath his feet. He’d experienced one earthquake in his life while visiting California, and he hadn’t felt as unbalanced then as he did right now.

Katie stopped about four feet in front of him.
She’s an
engaged woman
. The four words swam around his head. His gaze shot to her left hand, to see if she’d gotten a new
ring yet. When it wasn’t there, he let his gaze move over her. Her hair was up—a shame, he loved it down. But the pale green business suit traced her body with precision. The scooped top, a lighter green, gave a hint of cleavage, and the skirt, just snug enough to make a man drool, came midthigh. And it was just high enough to make it difficult to decide on where to focus: cleavage or legs.

Carl knew right then that any man shopping here hadn’t come for the paintings but the sculptured art of Red’s body.

“You clean up nice,” he said.

She’s an engaged woman
, he reminded himself again.

Yeah, but it didn’t mean a damn thing if she didn’t wear a ring.

“So do you.” She grinned.

That soft, sexy smile of hers hit him right between his legs, and his loose-fitting khakis suddenly weren’t so loose anymore.

Her smile widened. “I like you in pink. It matches your scarf from the other night.”

“It’s light red. And besides, I heard metro men aren’t afraid to get in touch with their feminine side.”

“So you’re going metro, huh?” she asked.

Holy hell, she was gorgeous. “I’m trying it on for size.” Their gazes met and held. “You know,” he went on, “I’m a little disappointed.”

“About what?” She twisted her high heels into the carpet.

“My brother bragged about the greeting you gave him, and I don’t even get a handshake.” He wasn’t sure why he said that, maybe because he liked teasing her, or maybe because he’d been disappointed when she hadn’t touched him. His body ached to feel her, to get close enough to see if she wore the same perfume, to get close enough to see the spray of freckles across her nose.

“He told you about that, did he?” Color rose in her face.

Damn, she was pretty when she blushed. “Just in passing.”
She’s an engaged woman
. “So, this is where you work?”

“This is it.” She waved her arms around, which made her blouse pull tighter across her breasts.

His gaze caught the clock on the wall. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this, but…“Want to grab some lunch with me?” Her expression prepared him for disappointment. He hated disappointment. “Don’t break my heart, Red.”

She blinked. “I seriously doubt I could break your heart.”

And yet the idea didn’t seem so far-fetched to him.

She fidgeted. “I planned to run some errands—”

“I saw the diner right next door. A quick lunch. Say yes.”

She hesitated. “Lunch,” she said.

“Just lunch,” he said, because that’s how she’d seemed to mean it. While that’s exactly what he’d told himself this was, just lunch, he suddenly found the idea depressing as hell.

Les turned the page of the photo album, feeling the nostalgia curl up inside her chest. Mike’s handsome face smiled up at her. Amazingly, the pain was almost bearable now. Realizing it seemed too quiet in the living room, Les went to check.

Good thing, too.

“
No
, Mimi.” Les took the lipstick from her grandma’s hand.

Her mother had asked Les to Mimi-sit today. It had seemed like a small thing, but Les had learned that Mimi’s condition had worsened since she’d left for Boston. Before, Mimi would sit in front of the TV for hours and be content. Now she was all hands, either pulling her clothes off or finding something to get into.

Les wondered how her mom did it. A tickle of uncertainty
wiggled in her chest. Another incentive to move back home. This morning, Les had actually called her old boss at the paper. He’d been excited to hear from her, and the first thing out of his mouth was, “If you’re calling for a job, it’s yours.”

She hadn’t been calling for a job, but his offer had her thinking. Was it time? Time to move back and stop running away?

Les grinned at the painted clown smile on her grandma’s lips. Down deep, it hurt to see her grandmother like this, but on another level, Les was glad that Mimi, unlike so many other stroke victims, was a happy victim. Mimi smiled constantly and seemed pleased to be alive. Not bad for her age.

“Let’s go to the bathroom, and I’ll wash your face.”

“Love my shoes,” Mimi said, and held up one foot.

Les smiled, recalling her mom saying Mimi had refused to take the shoes off last night. “I’m glad you like them.”

Mimi started unbuttoning her blouse.

“It’s not bedtime,” Les said.

The doorbell chimed and Les went to get it, picking up the bag of oranges her mom said to give to the neighbor who would be by around lunch. Les picked up the bag with a note taped to the top and opened the door. “Big, and good enough to squeeze,” Les read the note before looking up. Her heart stuttered.

“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.

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?”

He took a drink of his tea and thought about it. “I have several.
Die Hard. Alien
. And I laughed my a…butt off at
40-Year-Old Virgin
.”

“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!”