Not Quite Mine (Not Quite series) (11 page)

His eyes narrowed and his pissed look slid into amusement. “You’re serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Dean’s head started to nod, slowly at first, then faster. “OK…I’ll do that on one condition.”

A lock of hair had come loose under the stupid hard hat so Katie thrust it behind her ear in frustration. She knew she looked ridiculous. And tired. Lord, just arguing with him was wearing her out.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense. Name your price, cowboy.”

He lifted his index finger and spoke slower. “I’ll give you a budget and you will not argue, debate, or ask for more. I’ll give you a workable budget any experienced designer would make work.”

“But I’m not experienced—”

“Ah! No excuses! Do we have a deal?”

“And if that doesn’t work for me?”

“Then you walk away now. Go home to Texas and take your niches with you.”

She tilted her head and took him in. His determined chin and eyes set in stone made her wonder…made her question exactly why he didn’t want her around. Then she finally noticed the stripe on his hat. Maybe he didn’t like the distraction or the hazing he was obviously getting with the men.

Or maybe it was her.

“Deal.” She shoved her hand in front of him and waited.

He hesitated, then his warm palm met hers. Sparks radiated up her arm and raised gooseflesh despite the dry heat filling the room.

She let go quickly and hoped he didn’t see her skin flush. “I expect my budget by the end of the day.”

Dean mumbled something under his breath as she walked away. “Oh, and, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Nice hat.”

Patrick Nelson’s appearance somehow met, if not exceeded, every preconceived thought in Katelyn’s brain about how a private eye should look. He had to be six two, nearly as tall as Dean. He looked thicker than a longhorn stud in a pen. Roped muscle filled in his black short jacket under a buttoned-up dress shirt. This man probably owned one suit and wore it only when he had to.

He screamed retired marine or ex-cop. His dark hair was peppered with gray and his brown eyes had a way of looking through you. If he were fifteen years younger, Katie might have found him attractive. Actually, he was attractive, but she wasn’t interested.

She met with him in her room to avoid anyone overhearing their conversation.

They discussed Savannah’s sudden appearance in Katelyn’s life in depth. They were on a second cup of coffee before he turned the conversation toward her personal life.

He leaned back on the sofa of the penthouse family suite and wrote notes in the small pad of paper he’d pulled from his pocket.

“Who are you dating?”

The question struck her as strange and she hesitated to answer it. “Excuse me?”

“Dating…sleeping with? Who do you spend your time with on a romantic level?”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with Savannah ending up on my doorstep.”

“Everything about you is relevant as to why this infant ended up in your arms. Someone knew things about you they couldn’t have known by reading the papers.”

She shook her head. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You were on the third page of a Houston tabloid three weeks ago on the arm of a blond in a bar.”

“I was?” She didn’t know the picture he was referring to. She’d stopped concerning herself with the paparazzi pictures over a year and a half earlier. About the time she and Dean stopped seeing each other.

“You were. Club Zen I think it was.”

Oh, that’s right. She remembered going to meet a friend who had broken up with her latest. They managed to get through a round before several acquaintances surrounded them. Katelyn had a vague memory of someone taking pictures but didn’t think more about it. “I know the club but couldn’t tell you a thing about the picture. I wasn’t involved with anyone in that crowd that night.”

“The magazine said you were lovers.”

“The magazine doesn’t fact check.”

Patrick made a note and continued.

“There’s no one in your life?”

“No.”

“Who are your girlfriends? Who do you confide in?”

Monica’s name came to her lips with ease. “I already told you that Monica was with me the night Savannah showed up.” Katie gave him a couple of names of people she considered close friends.

“Do they know about Savannah?”

“No. Only you and Monica know about her.”

He scratched his chin in thought. “You wouldn’t be the first celebrity, or woman of means, who has had a child dumped
on their doorstep. Did it occur to you that this might not be personal?”

“Yeah. But it doesn’t change anything. I still don’t know who the mom is, and I won’t be comfortable until I know Savannah is legally mine. I’m hiring you to find the mom and do the necessary check on this paperwork.”

A corner of Patrick’s mouth quivered. “I’ll find the mom. Not to worry. The speed in which I do it will be the question. I’m going to need access to your suite in Houston.”

She nodded. “No one can know you’re a private investigator.”

“Hence the word ‘private.’” He wrote something on a separate sheet of paper and tore it off to give it to her.

It was a name. “Who is Ben Sanderson?”

“Me. That’s the name you’ll give the hotel. I’ll tap into the surveillance and see what I can find.”

“What should I tell them about you?”

“Tell them I’m your lover, friend…makes no difference to me. Just make it easy for me to get into the hotel and keep the staff from poking around. I’ll do the rest.”

She could do that. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d told the staff to look the other way to a man’s presence.

A loud knock sounded from the door to her suite. She looked at the clock on the wall and thought maybe room service was early. She stood and started for the door. “I ordered dinner. They’re early. I can get you something if you like.”

Patrick stood and tucked the notebook into his jacket pocket. “I have enough for now. I’ll call you in a couple of days to update you on my progress.”

He walked behind her as she opened the door.

The smile she’d placed on her lips to great the hotel staff slid the moment the door opened.

“Dean?” The desire to shut the door and keep him from seeing Patrick made her arm shake. “What are you doing here?” And how had he managed to get up the elevator without a call from the receptionist letting her know he was there?

“You said you wanted a—” His words drifted off as his gaze fell behind her.

Katelyn found her smile and turned toward the man she’d hired. She sent a quick prayer to anyone listening that Patrick was as good as his résumé said. He needed to slip from the room without Dean questioning who he was.

Patrick moved a little closer to the door and placed a hand on her arm. “He doesn’t look like room service.”

“He’s not.” Katie twisted toward Dean and felt the air chill.

Dean stepped into the suite, his eyes narrowed to daggers. “Dean Prescott,” Dean said, waiting for Patrick to say something.

Patrick lifted a hand for Dean to shake. “Ben Sanderson.”

“Dean and I work together at my brother’s hotel,” she explained.

Patrick nodded and finished shaking Dean’s hand.

“The one under construction?”

“That’s right.”

Patrick nodded and turned his attention on Katie. “I’ll call you. Dean, a pleasure.”

And then he disappeared leaving Katie to explain his presence.

Yet as she was closing the door behind Patrick, she realized she didn’t owe Dean anything. He was the one showing up unexpectedly. The best offense was to put Dean on the defense. Or distract him. Good thing Katie knew how to do both.

“How did you get up here?”

Dean stepped farther into the suite and looked around as if he were trying to figure out what she’d been doing. “I used to sneak up to your suite all the time.”

Like she could ever forget. “There’s no need to sneak any longer.”

“So who was that?”

Avoidance…she would have earned A’s in school if there had been a class. “Do you have my budget?”

“Is his name really Ben?”

She froze.

“Who names their kid Ben?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and let Dean make his own conclusions about Patrick. “What’s the matter, Dean, jealous?”

He turned on her like a snake coiled up and ready to strike. Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips. “Jack asked me to keep an eye on you while he’s away.”

“Jack isn’t in charge of me, Dean. We both know that.”

“You need someone watching out for you.”

“Now why do you think that?”

He looked up and down her body with a quick scan. “You look like you’ve not slept in days and, if I had to guess, you’ve lost weight since the wedding. And you don’t have any to spare, darlin’.”

She despised the fact he read her so well.

“Do you have my budget or what?”

Before he could answer, someone knocked on the door again.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Who is it now?” She swung on the door and ripped it open. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Morrison. I was told to bring your dinner. I can come back.”

Good God, she was tired. Snapping at the staff wasn’t how she’d been raised and she was instantly sorry. Poor Manny looked like he wanted to crawl away. “Oh, no. Please forgive me. It’s been a long day. Bring it in here.” She opened the door wider and let the young waiter wheel the cart filled with silver-domed dishes into the room.

“Would you like it in the dining room?”

“That would be fine, Manny.” She’d grown used to eating over the sink at Monica’s, and shoving bites in between her shower and
changing clothes at the hotel. This was the night Monica was going to stay with Savannah so Katie could convince the hotel staff that she actually slept there once in a while. It was all a ruse to keep anyone from asking questions about where she spent her nights.

Maybe it was a good thing Dean had shown up when he did. Him finding her at the hotel would ease any suspicions. Or so she hoped.

She walked around Dean, found her purse, and waited for the waiter to finish. He raised the lid off the salad she’d ordered and looked at her. “Shall I open these now?”

“That won’t be—”

“Salad? That’s all you’re eating?” Dean shoved in behind her and glared at her dinner.

“I like salad.”

“So do rabbits. Gaylord always has Texas prime beef on the menu, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, so?”

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. “How about two rib eyes, Manny, medium rare with baked potatoes filled with the works. We’ll start with the salad.”

“I don’t remember inviting you to stay.”

Manny kept moving his head back and forth, taking in their conversation.

“And yet I’m not going until I’ve seen you eat and know you’re not going to fall over the next time you’re at work. It’s bad enough you defy gravity with those damn shoes. You don’t need to add a lack of nutrition making you weak.”

She wanted to argue in the worst way but that took energy. The truth was, she could eat more than a salad and getting Dean to back off without a scene wouldn’t be easy. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could move him along.

“Miss Morrison?”

“Medium rare is fine with me,” she told Manny.

“And a couple of beers,” Dean called after the waiter.

Katie walked Manny out of the room and pressed ten dollars into his palm.

Eat dinner. Placate Dean. Go to sleep. That was her plan.

He wanted to ask. Lord knew it kept every ounce of his dignity not to question.

Ben? Who the hell?

Not to mention the man was far too old for Katie. Could be her father if Dean had to guess.

OK, maybe that was going too far, but the man was older than her by at least ten years, if not more.

Katie excused herself to her room and returned wearing a large pullover cotton shirt and Capri pants. Dean identified the outfit as “Katie casual,” the clothes she wore at the end of her day before she went to bed.

Very few people saw her in these clothes and even fewer saw her out of them.

The fact she changed while he was waiting for their steaks to arrive made him smile. At least they hadn’t lost that intimacy…not yet anyway.