Ready for Marriage? (17 page)

“I need a favor,” Kate said.

“You name it, you got it.”

“I need you to go over to my apartment and water my plants.”

“You do, do you?”

Kate didn’t have any houseplants and Lucie knew it. The catch phrase she’d just repeated had been a code that Lucie used whenever she found herself in a situation with a guy that she couldn’t handle. If Lucie was in danger of giving in to lust and knew she’d regret it in the morning, she’d call Kate with a spiel about watering her plants, which was actually a cry for immediate help. Lucie had a notorious black thumb. She could kill any plant within ten days without even trying.

“It could be a week or two before I get back to Atlanta and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my plants,” Kate said.

“Want me to come to Memphis or just be available in case things get dicey?”

“The latter.”

“I’ll be available.” Pause. “Kate, I hope one of those kids turns out to be Mary Kate.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Take care, huh.”

“You, too.”

Kate closed her phone and returned it to her jacket pocket.

Trent clutched her shoulder. “Was that Luke?”

“Yes and no,” Kate admitted.

Trent stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

“I was talking to my best friend, Lucie Evans, who is a former FBI agent and now a fellow Dundee employee.” Kate sighed loudly. “There is no Luke. Just Lucie. I do love her. She’s practically like a sister to me. So I only partly lied to you.”

Trent grinned. “Why did you lie about having a boyfriend?”

“Want me to be totally honest?”

He nodded.

“I still have feelings for you and I sense you have some for me, too. It’s probably just some leftover lust, but… I thought having a boyfriend might keep you at arm’s length.”

Trent eased his hand down her shoulder and circled her waist. Looking her square in the eyes, he told her, “If I wanted you and you wanted me, too, a hundred boyfriends wouldn’t stop me from making love to you.”

Excitement shot through Kate like Fourth of July fireworks. “Trent…I…we—”

He pulled her up against him and lowered his head. His lips came down, down, down.

“The lab technician is ready for you two,” Dante Moran called from the doorway.

Kate froze. Trent lifted his head and reluctantly released her.

That was a close call
, she thought. The next time it happens—and it would—what if there was nobody around to interrupt them?

K
ate sat across the table from Dante Moran in a back booth at the River City Café, an old-fashioned fifties diner not far from the FBI field office. After she and Trent gave the lab technician their DNA samples, she’d insisted that Trent go back to the hotel without her.

“I need to put some space between us,” she’d admitted. “I think you need that, too. Why don’t you go back to the Peabody and find something to do to pass the time? I want to stay here and go over any records belonging to the abduction ring that Moran will let me look at. I can’t handle more than one major problem at a time and dealing with you—with all the old feelings we once had for each other—is posing a big problem for me.”

Trent hadn’t said much in response; he’d just agreed with her and left. A part of her had been disappointed that he hadn’t put up a fight, that he hadn’t proclaimed his feelings for her weren’t just remnants of a past love.

“Shouldn’t you call your ex-husband and let him know you’re okay and won’t be back to the hotel until later?” Moran glanced over the edge of the menu he held as he questioned Kate.

“I don’t have to report in to Trent. We are divorced and the only reason we’re together now is because of Mary Kate.”

“What did the guy do to you to make you hate him?”

“I don’t hate—”

The waitress came to their booth, placed glasses of water in front of them and asked, “So, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll take the chicken and dressing special,” Moran said. “And coffee. Black.”

The waitress, a gum-smacking twenty-year-old with spiked white hair, turned to Kate. “And you, ma’am?”

That “ma’am” made Kate feel old. She was only thirty-five. But a world-weary thirty-five. Looking up at the young girl, she replied, “I want the grilled chicken salad and coffee. And I’ll need creamer for my coffee.”

As soon as the waitress left, Moran rephrased his earlier question. “What’s with you and your ex?”

“You’re being awfully nosey.”

Moran grinned, his teeth pearly-white against his bronze complexion. “I thought maybe you needed to talk about it. If I’m wrong, I apologize.”

Kate sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about. Trent and I have been divorced for ten years. He’s practically engaged to someone else.” She looked right at Moran. “And I do not hate Trent. That’s the problem. It would be much easier if I did hate him.”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Hey, I appreciate your letting me hang around the office all day. And I really have to thank you for giving
me access to those files. Will you get in trouble for doing that?”

“Not unless somebody tells on me.” He grinned. “To be honest, I’m not greatly concerned about my career with the bureau. I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to changing jobs.”

“Why would you do that?”
So, Lucie’s info about
Moran leaving the FBI and coming to work for Dundee’s
was true
, Kate thought.

“My career with the bureau is at a standstill and I’m not likely to move on up, not with my reputation as a rebel.”

The waitress brought their coffee and small containers of creamer for Kate. Moran lifted the mug to his lips and sipped the hot brew. After emptying two tiny cartons of creamer into her coffee, Kate stirred it until the black turned a luscious café au lait color.

“Is that a rebel with or without a cause?” she asked.

Moran chuckled. “That depends on who you ask. As far as I’m concerned, I always have a cause. Sometimes I don’t play by the rules, but there’s always logic behind the madness.”

“Do you think this infant abduction ring case will be your last?”

“Yeah, it could be. We should wrap up my part of things within a month, then I’m thinking about moving back south.”

“To Atlanta?”

Moran lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. “Who at Dundee’s has been talking?”

“Our office manager, Daisy Holbrook, told my buddy Lucie and Lucie told me when we spoke earlier today.” Kate smiled at Moran. “If you want my opinion…?”

“Fire away.”

“I think Dundee’s would be damn lucky to get a man like you.”

“Why thank you, ma’am.”

“I guess you already know that the pay is very good, as are the benefits. Some assignments are dangerous, some are heartbreaking, some are routine and a few are just downright boring. But Sawyer MacNamara is a top-notch boss. Smart, savvy, fair-minded. Except when it comes to Lucie Evans. With those two, it’s tit for tat. Don’t listen to anything Lucie says about Sawyer or vice versa. They hate each other with a passion.”

“How is it that they’re able to work together? Why hasn’t Lucie quit or MacNamara fired her if the animosity between them is that bad?”

Kate shrugged. “Lucie would never quit and give Sawyer the satisfaction. He won’t fire her because everybody would know he’d done it for personal reasons.”

“What about Dundee himself? If MacNamara runs the show on a day-today basis, how much input does the owner have?”

“Sam Dundee comes to town at least once a year, occasionally more often if a particular case intrigues him. He’s kept informed and if there’s ever a conflict for Sawyer, Sam steps in. You’ll like Sam. Everybody does. And you won’t find a better bunch of professionals anywhere than at Dundee’s.”

“Tell me something, Kate Malone—are all the female agents as good-looking as you?”

“Humph.” Kate couldn’t help smiling. “That could be considered a chauvinist statement.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. Take it as it was meant—as a compliment.”

“In that case, yes, all the female agents are attractive,
in their own way. Right now there are only two other female agents. The office manager is female and three of the four office staff are, too. Lucie Evans, my dear friend, is former FBI, as is Sawyer. Their feud goes back to the time they worked for the bureau and neither will talk about it. Lucie’s gorgeous. Nearly six feet tall. I’d describe her as a modern-day, brown-eyed, redheaded amazon.”

Moran let out a long, low whistle. “Maybe the problem between MacNamara and her is that she’s too much woman for him to handle.”

Kate laughed out loud. “Don’t ever let Sawyer hear you say that.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting Lucie.”

“J.J. is our other female agent. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Picture a young Elizabeth Taylor. Black hair, violet-blue eyes and a petite hourglass figure.”

“And she’s a Dundee agent?”

“When you meet her, don’t let her looks fool you. She’s a black belt in karate, is proficient in every weapon imaginable and she rides a Harley.”

“I can’t wait to meet Lucie and J.J. Are there any rules that say Dundee agents can’t date each other?”

“Not that I know of. And it has happened…agents forming personal relationships, but mostly friendships and seldom romances.”

“What about you, Kate, are you interested in romance?”

Taken aback by his question, Kate gaped at him, her eyes wide and round. “Are you…” She motioned back and forth between them with her hand. “You and me?”

“Sure. Why not? Unless you patch things up with your ex.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? You’re still hung up on the guy, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am, but that doesn’t mean we’ll ever patch things up. Besides, why would you be interested in a romance with me, if you think I still care about Trent?”

“I said romance, not love and marriage.” Moran’s sly smile gave her the impression he was only halfway joking with her.

“In your language romance translates to sex, right?”

The waitress cleared her throat as she approached with a tray of food. She placed the dishes down in front of Kate and Moran, then asked, “Will there be anything else?”

Kate shook her head.

“No, thanks. We’re fine,” Moran replied.

“Under different circumstances, you and I might be perfect for each other,” Kate told him once the waitress was out of earshot. “Perfect on a temporary basis that is. We’re both in the same predicament, romantically speaking.”

“How do you figure that?” Moran spread his paper napkin across one knee and picked up his fork.

“Anything we had between us would be friendship and maybe sex, but we’re both in love with ghosts from the past, aren’t we?”

Moran’s hand grasping the fork stopped midair and for the longest moment he didn’t move or speak, then finally he laid his fork down and looked at Kate. “I take that to mean you’re still in love with your ex or at least with the memory of him. But don’t jump to any conclusions where I’m concerned.”

“I know you big, strong tough guys don’t like to talk about feelings, but it’s plain to me that you’re pining
away for a lost love. It’s a matter of it takes-one-to-know-one. I’ve never loved anyone except Trent and seeing him again, being with him, has gotten me confused. I don’t know if I’m in love with the man or with the memory.”

“Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to find out? You’re here with me when you’d rather be with him. Stop running away. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face whatever it is that’s happening between you two. And if one of the abduction ring girls turns out to be your daughter, you two won’t be able to walk away from each other and never look back.”

“You’re a very smart man, Dante Moran. So why is it that you can give me such good advice and apparently aren’t able to solve your own problems?”

“Look, Kate, I know you mean well and I appreciate your concern, but you don’t know anything about me…or about my past.”

“So tell me.”

“It’s not in my nature to open a vein and emotionally bleed all over the place.”

“Just tell me one thing and I’ll stop badgering you. I promise.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Am I right—is there someone from your past that you can’t forget, someone you’re still in love with?”

“No more questions if I give you an answer?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, there’s someone from my past.”

Curiosity almost got the best of her, but Kate somehow managed not to pursue the matter. After all, she had promised him, hadn’t she? Besides, digging into Mo
ran’s past could only temporarily divert her from her own situation with Trent. Moran had been right when he’d said that sooner or later she had to face whatever was happening between Trent and her.

Kate lifted her fork, stirred her salad to equally distribute the honey-mustard dressing, and speared a sizable chunk of mixed greens and sliced grilled chicken. Moran dug into his chicken and dressing, eating heartily. Neither said much while they ate, just a comment now and again on the food and how surprisingly good the coffee was considering the restaurant was an inexpensive diner.

As they finished off their meal and worked on their third cups of coffee, Kate glanced at her watch. Eight forty-five. She really should have called Trent. He was probably wondering about her, maybe even worrying about her.
He has your cell number
, she told herself.
He
could call you
. But why should he? Hadn’t she all but told him she wanted him out of her sight?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Moran said.

“Just thinking.”

“About your ex?”

A denial was on the tip of her tongue, but why lie to Moran? She nodded. “Man to woman, what would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“My feet wouldn’t fit in your shoes.” Moran’s lips curved into a smirking grin.

“Dammit, will you be serious.”

His smile vanished. He reached across the table and clasped her hand, then focused on her face. “If I were in your shoes, I’d go to the guy, tell him how I felt and then drag him off to the nearest bed and make love all night.”

Mouth agape, eyes wide, Kate stared at Moran, ut
terly surprised by his reply. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been one of them. “If that’s how you feel, then why haven’t you done just that? Why haven’t you—”

“I can’t. She’s dead.”

Kate felt as if she’d been slapped. Hit hard with the painful truth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I mean…”
Shut up before you dig yourself in deeper
, an inner voice warned.

Moran picked up the check, then scooted out of the booth and said, “Are you ready?”

She nodded, then got up and followed him. She didn’t even protest when he paid for her dinner. They walked in silence to his car.

After they got in the car, he asked, “Where to?”

“Drop me off at the Peabody.”

“Going to take my advice?”

“Maybe.”

Moran started the engine and backed out of the parking space. And all the while Kate thought about how she’d feel if Trent was dead. She’d be devastated. Even though she hadn’t seen him in ten years, in all that time apart, she’d known he was alive and well and possibly even happy. Had she, in her heart of hearts, always believed that someday they might get a second chance? Just as she never gave up hope that Mary Kate was alive and eventually they’d be reunited, had she secretly hoped that she and Trent would get back together?

Trent paced the floor in his suite. It was nearly nine-thirty. Where the hell was she? Why hadn’t she had the common courtesy to call him? After they’d given their DNA samples, Kate had all but told him to
get out of her sight and leave her the hell alone. He could have protested, could have told her that he wasn’t leaving her side, but what good would that have done? They’d have wound up in an argument and he didn’t want that. Those last few months when their marriage had been dying, that’s all they’d done—argue. Day and night. About everything. About anything. It had been easier to stay angry and fight and fume than to face the agonizing pain that had been eating them both alive.

When Kate had suffered a nervous breakdown right after Mary Kate’s abduction, he’d done all he could to take care of her, to comfort her, but she’d rejected him time and time again. After a while it became too difficult to endure yet one more rejection. She’d turned away from him, neither wanting nor needing him. At least that was the way it had seemed to him. Instead of clinging to each other, sharing their sorrow, they’d each retreated into their own private hell. When Kate had asked him for a divorce, he’d agreed without a word of protest. His gut instincts had told him he would regret his decision not to fight for his marriage. At the time not only had he been numb with grief over Mary Kate’s disappearance, but his damn masculine pride had gotten in the way. A man doesn’t hold on to a woman who no longer wants him.