A Little Christmas Jingle (11 page)

“Uh …” Kat began as Sharon unlocked her phone and hit an app.

“At our final fitting, Cecily was telling us that Jack had a date. I can't believe I scored this coup. Here. Do you mind?”

She leaned into Kat's space, held up the phone, and took a quick picture. “Cecily doesn't believe you're real. This'll show her.”

Kat sat dumbfounded as Sharon typed a message and hit send. Then she turned to the man approaching. He stood about five eight and had dark brown hair, the complete opposite of Jack. “Matt. This is Kat. Kat, this is my husband Matt. She's Jack's date. You know. The wedding date.”

“Stop bothering my date,” Jack inserted, arriving on the scene much to Kat's immediate relief. Jack handed her a glass of red wine and set down his longneck bottle of Bud. “Matt,” he said, reaching forward to shake his stepbrother's outstretched hand. “Good to see you. Didn't know you'd be here.”

“My firm is doing some of the pro bono work to assist the prosecuting attorney's office with task force issues.”

“But you aren't involved in any of that,” Jack pointed out.

“Yes, but I love auctions so I insisted we come,” Sharon inserted, clearly smoothing the waters. “What a welcome surprise we're at the same table.” She leaned over and squeezed Kat's hand. “We have been waiting to see Jack settle down for a long time.” Kat resisted the urge to rub her hand; Sharon's grip had been a vise. “You do know, Jack, that your mom had a string of dates lined up for the wedding.”

“So I heard. Someone ought to tell her that her matchmaking services are not required where I'm concerned.”

“You know she's just trying to help. She's fixed lots of people up,” Sharon told Kat.

“Then I'm lucky Kat rescued me.” Jack dropped into the seat to Kat's left. He lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, those blue eyes twinkling. A tremor of awareness shot through her, and she tamped it down. “She's my savior.”

“That's me,” Kat quipped as three other couples began to take their seats. “Always saving someone or something. This time it was Jack.”

“That's sweet,” Sharon said, and Kat could almost see her cataloging everything for later use. Matt, however, was clearly more cynical. His lawyer-trained gaze assessed her, and she resisted the urge to squirm.

“Oh that's right. You're the one with the illegal dog shelter,” Matt said, putting two and two together. He took a sip of the dark cocktail as if his words weren't a bombshell.

“It's not illegal,” Kat replied automatically, praying her tone sounded matter-of-fact and not defensive. She snaked her right hand forward, grabbing the wineglass as a shield.

“Kat is the vet who saved Jingle,” Jack said, redirecting the conversation. His leg pressed against hers, and his right hand covered her left. To provide comfort, he squeezed gently. “Jingle's the worst abuse case I've ever seen, and Kat was the perfect person for the job.”

“No one is questioning her ability as a vet,” Matt replied.

“I personally inspected her shelter myself,” Jack said, and Kat heard the underlying warning in his tone. “Did you not see the news report?”

“Boys,” Sharon chided. “You should see them at family dinners,” she told Kat with an apologetic smile. But at that moment Kat knew why she was really here, why Jack had come up with a silly fake-dating scheme. Not only had he clearly failed to marry—which was the dumbest thing for anyone to ever criticize—but there was some undercurrent, some blatant tension between the two men. Kat didn't understand blended families, having never had one. But she recognized sibling rivalry as these two had it in spades.

“So, did I overhear that right?” a woman across the table asked. “You're the vet who saved that poor dog?”

Kat nodded. “I am.”

“I couldn't believe that when I heard about what happened. We're making a huge donation in his honor. I couldn't bear if something happened to my Pookie. I'm Ellen Harper, by the way. This is my husband, George.”

Kat knew the name George Harper. More than likely her case was going to land in his courtroom. “Nice to meet you, Judge Harper.”

“Indeed,” he said, reaching for the salad plate in front of him, more interested in his food than her clinic.

Waiters came by with warm rolls, and soon entrée plates, and conversation shifted to topics like golf, vacations to Spain, Rams football, and Blues hockey. For the most part, Kat and Jack were able to contribute something to the table's cheery atmosphere.

Besides, the food was excellent and the wine smooth, and Kat went past her one-glass limit by indulging in two. Perhaps that's why, despite the bareness of her skin, she felt so warm. Or maybe it was because Jack kept stroking the top of her arm—the searing heat making her flush. At one point during the speeches he draped his arm over her shoulders, his fingers twirling in the loose strands of hair at the base of her neck.

He was doing everything a boyfriend would do, and knowing Sharon watched their every move like a hawk, Kat allowed herself to relax and go with the flow. She had a part to play. Later she could remember this night wasn't real, no matter how authentic the desire her body exhibited. She blinked. She'd tuned out during the speeches, her body short-circuited by Jack's mesmerizing touch.

“So,” the mayor was saying, “we are grateful to Jack Donovan for his deep commitment to making this partnership work. When Jeff proposed this joint task force a year ago, I didn't know how we would make the logistics feasible. But thanks to Jack, we have a road map and we've made a difference. So Jack,” the mayor pointed to him, “thank you.”

Kat clapped automatically as Jack stood, gave a brief wave to the crowd, and then sat back down. She leaned over to him. “That's wonderful.”

Around the table, the others saluted him with raised glasses.

The mayor continued on a new vein, and Kat reached under the table to squeeze Jack's hand. She leaned to whisper in his ear, “Smile. Look happy.”

He turned toward her. “I hate the attention—”

“I know,” Kat replied, catching his mouth in a quick kiss because one, his mouth was right there mere inches away, and two, it seemed the right thing to do at the time to keep him from talking about how he hated all the attention.

Plus, he had good lips. Full. Tasty. Much better than the chocolate. Just a brief kiss before she pulled away, but his blue eyes had darkened and he'd brushed his blond hair off his forehead. Their hands had fused together, and he didn't make any attempt to let go. Kat leaned back, satisfied.

Jeff Andrews, Pet Rescue's Founder and CEO, and the man to whom the mayor had referred, spoke next, and he accompanied his speech with a slide show. The professional hockey player's wife who went out with Jeff once a month to look for stray dogs was in several slides. Jack was in one slide—carrying a puppy—and the rest of the show featured tons of photos of happy animals and adoptions.

The video hadn't relied on any gore, but it had tugged on everyone's heartstrings, and Kat knew St. Louis's elite would be opening their checkbooks wide tonight. As it was, regular tickets had started at $150 a plate. VIP tables had cost double that.

“Jack, your parents would be so proud,” Sharon said as the various speeches ended. Next would be the silent auction and then dancing. “How exciting. Next year we must bring them.”

“I'm just doing my job,” Jack said.

“He's so humble,” Sharon told Kat with a conspiratorial wink. “I need the ladies room. Come with?”

Kat wasn't a woman who needed to go anywhere in pairs, but she rose to her feet. Tonight was about family harmony, so accompanying Jack's sister-in-law fit the bill. She felt Jack's gaze on her backside until she turned out of sight.

No longer able to see Kat, Jack reached for his nearly empty beer bottle, lifted it to his lips, and drank the last, tiny unsatisfactory swig. Matt stared from across the table. “What?” Jack asked, setting the bottle down with a jarring thump.

Matt shook his head, disbelief clear. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing my beer,” Jack replied with a shrug. “What's it look like?”

“I meant with Kat,” Matt clarified.

Jack frowned and crossed his arms. “We're on a date. I would think that's obvious. You have to admit, she's a beautiful woman.”

Matt fingered the short cocktail glass, rattled the ice. Jack kept waiting for a “She's out of your league” comment but received instead, “She's under legal scrutiny. It's a conflict of interest. You should be giving her a wide berth, pretty or not.”

“I don't see any conflict and I like her,” Jack replied, realizing he wasn't lying. He admired Kat. Found her funny. Charming. He enjoyed being around her. “I think she's special. And I haven't felt this way in well … years.”

Matt exhaled. “Still. Couldn't you have waited until after her case gets settled?”

“When you met Sharon, would you have waited?” Jack paused for effect, not surprised when Matt stayed silent. “I like Kat a lot and that hasn't happened in a while. So why be subjected to matchmaking at Cecily's wedding when I can bring my own date, someone I care about?”

“I'm sure it doesn't hurt that you'll get Mom off your back.”

Jack bristled. “That's not why I'm with Kat, and I'll find my own wife when I'm ready. Besides, you heard the mayor. He made me stand up and wave.”

“He probably doesn't know you're dating her,” Matt countered.

Jack's ire grew. He and Matt had been oil and water since their parents had first started dating. “And if he does, so what? He's been elected mayor for a record fourth term. I don't think my love life ranks high on his list of political concerns. You're the one who's always been worried about appearances. The only one who is most of the time.”

“Pardon me for thinking of your career,” Matt shot back.

Jack knew Matt meant well, but he'd heard this spiel or one like it enough times over the past twenty years. “Matt, that's why we're all South Side and you're in Ladue with kids in private schools. I'm a cop. I'll always be a cop. I like being a cop. I don't want to be anything else. I'm sorry if that doesn't meet your expectations of what I should be, or provide me an income that allows me to shop where you do or take vacations abroad. And I'm sure you've received nothing but grief over the calendar.”

Jack drummed his fingers on the table. “Believe me, had I known the attention it gave me, I'd have found some way out. But what's done is done and it was for a good cause. I'm the one living with the fallout. Besides, everyone has some relative who's embarrassing. I'm yours.”

Matt was one of the most skilled litigators in the city, but with his brother, he never had the right words. “I'm not saying being a cop isn't a noble profession. There are plenty of—”

Jack knew where this was leading and put a quick stop to it by cutting in. “Yes, but I've no desire to be a desk jockey. I don't want management. I'm a detective. I like working the streets and solving crimes. I like making a big difference, especially in the lives of animals. And I do. You heard the mayor.”

Matt changed tactics. “You're blurring the lines of professionalism with—”

“With what? Romance?” Jack scoffed. “Give me some credit. I know what I'm doing. And if you're so worried, then put your money where your mouth is and help out.”

“Help out?”

“You're the brilliant lawyer,” Jack said, irritation growing. “Donate money. Time. Giving me some support might be a nice change of pace.”

“I do support—” But at that moment, the women began to make their way back to the table and the men fell quiet, schooling their faces into neutral. Jack swallowed as Kat came closer, the beautiful dress turning heads as she wove her way through the crowd. He had the sudden urge to bundle her up, take her home, and ravage her until neither of them could move.

His hand tightened on the empty bottle. These were not thoughts he should be having, but like at the calendar ball where they'd first met, she called forth something primitive and primal from deep inside. Yet, he couldn't act on it. He was Mr. Bah Humbug.

None of this was real, and he was the wrong guy anyway, which meant there was a line they couldn't cross—one he wouldn't cross. He respected Kat too much. For Matt was right about one thing. Jack's track record sucked. Eventually all his relationships fizzled. So better to keep this as it was. Friends. No benefits other than getting his family off his back, which clearly, from Matt's attempt to be helpful, Jack was justified in doing.

He rose to his feet, overwhelmed with desire to touch her and knowing the one way he could legally do so. He reached for her hand as she came into range, tugged her to him, and bent his lips to her ear. “Come on, sweetheart. Let's dance.”

Kat followed Jack onto the dance floor. He'd shed the tuxedo coat, unbuttoned the top shirt buttons, and loosened the black bow tie so that the ends draped on each side of the open collar. He pulled her to him, and their fronts fused as the band began a slow number.

His hands curved around her waist, resting on the bare skin above her hips. She experienced a delicious branding, the kind that seared with sensual heat. She snaked her arms up over his broad shoulders.
Oh Lord
.

Touching him made her weak.

The calendar had revealed all his upper torso assets, leaving little to the imagination. However, her imagination hadn't anticipated the reality of how those wide, muscular arms would really feel. Her traitorous body went into overdrive when her breasts pressed into that sculpted chest, causing anticipatory quivers that trembled through her like miniature earthquakes. His fingers toyed with the fabric seam, and her legs slid between his, moving in a step created since the dawn of time. Every nerve heightened; her heart skipped a beat.