Beauty & the Beast (16 page)

“Oh dear,” Dre murmured, his voice catching. Cat wondered what was up with him. Did he not want to get married?

Vincent gave Cat a surreptitious nudge and tipped his head in Bethany’s direction. Dejected, Bethany was staring down at her water glass. Cat felt a pang on her behalf. Maybe she was thinking about her parents. Even if it was the right thing to do, divorce was harder on some kids than others. Bethany
was
a poor little rich girl.

Then two bottles of Dom Pérignon arrived and the corks popped. The table steward and his assistant expertly filled seven glasses, presenting Bethany with what appeared to be ginger ale garnished with three maraschino cherries and a pineapple slice.

“Here’s to love,” Captain Kilman decreed, and everyone clinked glasses; even Bethany, who put on a game face.

“To love,” Vincent said, and Cat smiled warmly as she sipped the bubbly champagne.

“So how did you two meet?” Stephan asked.

“Catherine was working on a case,” Vincent replied. “She’s a police officer.”

“Oh my,” Dre murmured again.

“Yes, it was a murder case,” Vincent said. “I attempted to resuscitate the victim and Catherine found my fingerprints at the scene.”

“And she thought you did it,” Stephan said, chuckling. “A murder suspect and a cop. It’s romantic, in its own way. Don’t you think, Dre?”

“It wasn’t romantic to us,” Cat put in, but in all honesty, their first meeting had been supercharged with sexual attraction and the excitement that danger brought. And of course she figured out that he was the “beast” who had saved her all those years before in the forest, after the Muirfield agents had gunned down her mother. That had taken boy-meets-girl to a whole new level.

“It got romantic later.” Vincent put his arm around the back of Cat’s chair and she sipped more champagne. For a couple of pulse-pounding seconds, they were back in their own private world, despite the conversation and the people surrounding them.

Do other people have this?
Cat wondered.
I never did before.

Then she tucked the moment away like a handful of dried rose petals and turned her attention back to the table. To her surprise, Dre’s face was a study in regret. Stephan murmured something in his ear and Dre nodded, peering up through his lashes at Cat. He appeared quite distressed.

Then another ship’s officer, less formally dressed, appeared at the captain’s elbow and spoke quietly to him. Captain Kilman turned to the table.

“I’m needed on the bridge,” he declared. “I should be back in a few minutes. It’s nothing to be alarmed about.” He smiled at Bethany. “I’m sure my intern can fill in for me while I’m gone.”

Indulging him, Bethany nodded. “I’ve got this, Captain.” She turned to the table and announced, “Storm’s getting worse. We’re all going to die.”

Suddenly a flash of heat flared through Cat, beginning in the pit of her stomach, shooting up through her chest, and fanning out across her cheeks and forehead. She inhaled sharply. Had they turned down the air conditioning? Was that why the captain was leaving? She looked to see if anyone else at the table had had the same experience.

Another flash followed the first, and then a wave of dizziness. She lifted her glass for a sip of water, realized she had drunk from her champagne glass, and set it down.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Vincent. “I’m going to the restroom.”

“Everything okay?”

She grimaced. “I think
I
may be a little seasick.” She held up a hand as he began to scoot back his chair. “I’m fine. Mostly. Be back soon. Excuse me,” she said to the table, as Vincent stood and pulled out her chair.

“The bathrooms are over there,” Dr. Jones said, gesturing to the left.

“I need to go, too,” Dre decreed, also standing.

He joined her as she headed for the restrooms. His smile was grim.

“Stephan and I just love that jacket,” he said. “The fabric. We were just talking about how we wish we could have matching dinner jackets made for our wedding but of course we can’t manage that, it’s all so impromptu.”

They were at the restroom doors by then. Before she could reply, he ran his fingers down the left front panel of the jacket. “Oh, there’s a pocket. I didn’t even see it. Lined? Wow, who made this? Perfect stitching.”

What is his deal?
Cat thought. He was practically manhandling her. Then he pressed a gentle arm around her shoulder.

“If you need somewhere to go, you can stay in our cabin,” he whispered. “Take refuge.”

“What?” Wobbly, she drew back, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth. Then he reached out his right hand; it hovered beside her eye.

“You did a good job with your makeup, but I can see it. He gave you a black eye, didn’t he? That beast.”

She blinked.
Beast?
Did they… know? Her vision blurred slightly. It was difficult to make sense of what he was saying. And then her mind caught up with his words and she laughed aloud.

“Oh, my
shiner
,” she said. “No, no. Vincent didn’t… Is that why you looked so sad at the table? You thought he did this?”

“You don’t have to cover up for him. Even police officers can become enmeshed in abusive relationships. We want to help you. Do you want to speak to the captain?”

“No. Really. I-I’m fine.” She didn’t feel fine. So hot. And it was becoming difficult to string words together. “Except I think I’m getting seasick.”

Just then, the woman who had been sitting on the piano approached them. She said, “Is the bathroom occupied?” When Cat shook her head, she added, “I’m Fidela Romero. I met your husband in the candy shop the other night. You’re our newlyweds. Do you have a special song you’d like me to sing?”

“We do have a song,” Cat said, remembering the first time they had danced together. And then in the bathtub, when they had thought they would have to part, but it had all come crashing down…

“He just got engaged.” Cat pointed to Dre. “They’re going to get married on the cruise.”

“Ooh, do
you
have a song?” Fidela clapped her hands. “Did you alert the kitchen? They can make a wedding cake for you. What about a wedding dress for your bride?”

“I have a groom,” Dre said. “We were eyeing Cat’s jacket. Look at this fabric. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It is,” Fidela said. “I just love this cut.” Now
she
was caressing Cat’s jacket. “My parents own a tailor shop in the garment district in Los Angeles. I used to help with the alterations and I can tell you that this is beautifully made.”

“Thank you.” Goosebumps danced along Cat’s arms as the flush of heat transformed into an icy chill. She turned to Dre. “Will you tell my husband that I went to the cabin? I’m not feeling well.”

Dre lightly touched her forearm. “But that thing we talked about…”

“Not an issue. Honest.” Cat managed a smile. “This was acquired in the line of duty. Gangbanger,” she added.

“Wow,
intense
.” Dre’s eyes were huge.

“Well, I’ll see you both later.” Cat lurched for the exit. “Please don’t forget to tell Vincent.”

“I won’t,” Dre said.

As she walked away, she heard him say to Fidela, “You don’t suppose she’s pregnant, do you?”

* * *

In the dining room, Bethany asked to take a look at the ice sculptures and her father accompanied her, much to her obvious annoyance. While the two were examining the shimmering dolphins poised above lacy coral, Vincent turned to Dr. Jones, who was seated on his left. Stephan was occupied, ordering a third bottle of champagne. Captain Kilman had not yet returned.

“I think Mr. Daugherty may be suffering from a significant medical condition,” Vincent said quietly. “His circulation appears to be compromised. At the very least.”

The
Sea Majesty
’s physician gazed at him coolly. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that. Mr. Daugherty and I have a confidential doctor–patient relationship.”

So I’m right.
Vincent picked up the champagne glass at his elbow and took a sip.

After a beat, the doctor said, “You and your wife are spending a lot of time with his daughter. I will tell you in strictest confidence that he hasn’t shared the severity of his condition with her, and that she may be in for a shock.”

He’s going to die?
Vincent frowned. “I’d assume that the
Sea Majesty
has a policy about permitting passengers who may require specialized medical intervention.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself, Dr. Keller.” She took a drink of water. “I misspoke. Nothing will happen on the cruise.”

I’m not sure she’s being straight with me.

But there was nothing he could do about it at dinner. He took a sip of champagne; he realized it was Catherine’s glass but drained it anyway. She could have his. Speaking of… He looked around for her. A wave of heat rushed up his chest and fanned over his cheeks.

Dre came hurrying toward him. “Your bride asked me to tell you that she’s not feeling well. She went to your cabin.”

Vincent got to his feet. Dre held up his hands. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” the man assured him. “She said she was a little seasick.”

“I’m not feeling all that great, either,” Vincent remarked.

Dre knit his brows. “I’d say it was something you ate, but we haven’t eaten anything yet. You’re looking a bit gray. Maybe Dr. Jones should check you both out.”

Maybe Dr. Jones should stay with Forrest Daugherty
, Vincent thought. As Dre turned to alert the physician, Vincent held up a hand. “If we need her, we’ll call for her. I think I just need to lie down.”

Dre nodded. “Well, I hope you get your sea legs soon.”

“Thanks.”

Vincent gave the man a nod and left the dining room. The stout sea breeze refreshed him as he walked up the stairway to their stateroom. Whatever had hit him had disappeared. Hopefully Catherine had recovered as well. But this gave them a perfect excuse to take a night off from Bethany, video games, and
The Walking Dead.
After he checked on Catherine he’d go back to the dining room and beg off.

Roberto was standing at the top of the stairs with his back to Vincent, almost as if he were studying their front door. It took Vincent a moment to place him as the man who had first escorted them to the honeymoon suite. He wondered what Roberto was doing there.

“Did Catherine ring for something?” Vincent asked him.

Roberto jerked, then turned around and moved his shoulders. “If she did, I’m sure your steward is handling her request, but I’d be more than glad to check on that.” He began to walk away.

“No, no. It’s fine.” He moved past Roberto and swiped his key card. “Good night.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Keller.”

The birdsong trilled as Vincent entered the suite and shut the door behind himself. The foyer was dark; he tiptoed across the room and softly opened the door to their bedroom. There were no lights on, but he could make out Catherine’s form lying on the mattress.

“Vincent?” she moaned. “The room is spinning.”

“I wasn’t feeling so hot, either, but I’m better now,” he said. “Maybe we should have laid off the champagne until we had something to eat.”

She curled toward him as he sat on the edge of the bed. She had taken off her jacket, gown, and bra and lay in nothing but her lacy panties. “I only had two sips of champagne.”

“True. I finished your glass.” He picked her clothes off the bed and carried them to the bureau. “I’m sorry this night was such a bust.”

“Yeah, we finally
bust
out of video game prison and I’m wilting like week-old roses.” She rolled over on her side. “Dre thought you were beating me up. He saw my black eye beneath my makeup.”

Vincent closed his eyes and shook his head. “He didn’t say a word about it to me.”

“And he and that singer were practically fondling my jacket. I mean, it is a beautiful jacket, Vincent, and I love it, but it was like they couldn’t stop touching it.”

“Weird. Listen, I’m going to tell Bethany that we’re not feeling up to company. I’ll be right back.”

He left Catherine in the stateroom and closed the front door, tilting with the roll of the immense ship in the gathering seas. As he dashed toward the dining room, he caught a whiff of ozone just before the sky burst open and rain poured down, much harder this time. The storm was building. He covered his head with his hand.

“I think we’re in for a bumpy ride,” Vincent muttered.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

When Tess heard Heather’s voicemail pick up yet again, she hung up the handset and glared at her office’s landline.

No Heather.

No call back.

It wasn’t like her.

Through the window of her office door she could see the chaos of the squad room; uniforms and plain clothes, everyone seemed to be in motion, but it barely registered in her brain.

Maybe like JT had said, Heather was off somewhere with that new boyfriend neither of them had met. But every time she had housesat for Cat before and was going to be away from the apartment, she had left word where she was headed and when she thought she’d be back. Heather could be impulsive, and she was always apologetic after she’d leapt the wrong way, but she was never distant or secretive. Dealing with Cat’s little sister was frustrating at times but Tess couldn’t ever stay mad for long. Heather brought out protective, maternal feelings.

Tess winced, remembering the pee test she still hadn’t taken, then pushed it to the back of her mind.

Why hadn’t Heather returned her calls?

She was usually compulsive about that, along with texting and tweeting—a chatty person. Tess checked her cell again. No texts. No tweets. She realized that her attitude had gone from not at all concerned to irritated to more worried by the quarter hour. If something happened to Cat’s sister on her watch she knew she would never forgive herself.

Tess looked at the piles of paperwork stacked on her desk, glanced over at the wall clock, and heaved a sigh. Nine p.m. She had already put in a thirteen-hour day with lunch—an apple and reheated coffee—at her desk. A captain’s job was never done, and she was on duty twenty-four seven. She decided the paperwork wasn’t going anywhere and could wait until tomorrow.