Weddings Can Be Murder (20 page)

Meeting his gaze, she saw the green tint to his skin. “You should leave before you start throwing up.”

“Aren’t you finished?” His frown deepened.

“I think so.”

“Then I’m safe. It’s the sound that does me in.”

She pressed the paper towels to her face. He inched closer and pushed a strand of hair from her cheek. His simple touch sent currents of emotion to her chest and those tears she’d talked herself out of shedding suddenly flooded to her eyes. Before she knew how it happened, she had her head pillowed on his chest and he held her. The feelings, the emotions—they weren’t anything like those at the gallery. This wasn’t sexual; it was different.

His spicy smell and his touch surrounded her, and
right there, in a woman’s bathroom, he made her feel safe again.

She took a deep breath and pulled back. “I must have really done something bad in a past life, huh?”

“Why would you say that?” He touched her cheek.

“Because for the past year and a half, the universe seems to be screwing with me.”

“You want me to kick the universe’s ass?” He smiled.

“Do you think you could take it on?” She smiled back.

“Piece of cake.” He glided a hand over her shoulder.

Emotion filled her chest and she pulled back. “Thanks.” They stood there staring. It felt right. She wasn’t alone.

Finally, he spoke. “I’m sorry, but Ben has a few questions.”

Tabitha’s killer paced and rubbed his temple where the throbbing had grown worse. Had he messed up? Were they laughing at him now because they knew he’d done it?

No. He’d done good. Mostly good. He’d only gotten anxious once or twice. But he felt certain they thought he was normal.

Or did they?

He went to his window to peer out. Were they watching him? Waiting for him to screw up? He began to rock.

He shouldn’t have gone to the hotel. That had been a mistake. Mistakes would lead them to him. But he needed…needed to slow down the laughter. He needed a bride. Needed to hear her beg, the way Maria should have begged for him to forgive her. He needed to stop the laughing.

If he could visit them, he’d feel better. But they’d taken them away. He leaned against the wall and began to move. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Rocking was bad. He shouldn’t keep rocking. How many times had his mother told him that?
Don’t rock.
Don’t rock. People will laugh at you
. She was right. People
would laugh. They would see he wasn’t normal. Then his mother would send him back to the hospital. He stopped rocking.

Music
. Music helped. He ran back to his bedroom and hit the recorder. “The Wedding March” sang in his ears. He pulled out his photo album and looked at his brides. Then he turned the page and stared at Katie Ray’s wedding announcement. He couldn’t let her marry another man. She was his.

A nap. Katie longed for a nap. After going over the phone calls again and again, after telling both Ben and Carl about every contact she’d had with anyone who had anything to do with the wedding, and after repeating one more time the names of those who had known she’d been staying at the hotel, Katie dropped her head on her arms and listened to the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

“You okay, Red?” Carl asked. She raised her head.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Ben asked her. “No contact with any of the wedding people?”

“I’ve told you everything,” she said, but then…“Wait. The flowers.”

“What flowers?” Ben and Carl said at the same time.

Katie told them about the flowers the florist had sent, and they made her go over it, and over it.

Finally, Carl interrupted. “I think we’re done now.”

They all stood, and Ben gave her a nod. “You realize you can’t stay at this hotel anymore, don’t you?”

Katie grabbed her purse. “I’ll find somewhere else.”

She noticed the look Ben shot Carl. She didn’t know what it meant, but she could tell they’d just mentally communicated.

Carl ushered her outside. He touched her waist as they walked. The sexual awareness from his touch tickled her mind, but Katie didn’t fuss; she was too busy trying to wrap her mind around the fact that a serial killer had her on his wish list. Panic buzzed in her head. It wasn’t as bad
as what she’d felt from seeing Tabitha get shot, but it was close.

She slipped into his car. He folded himself into the driver seat and looked at her. “You’re staying with me for a while.”

Okay, the buzzing began to ebb. While she could remember the safe feeling he offered her, the memory of the gallery scene sent those safe emotions right out the window.

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He ran his hands over the steering wheel. “Why?”

Had he forgotten they had practically had sex in the gallery? Okay, maybe he didn’t see that as a bad thing. “I’ll find someplace else to stay.”

“Is this because of the kiss?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s not the kiss,” she snapped. “It was your fingers in my panties. In public. At my work. While my boss watched. That is the problem.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Look, I’ll admit I was probably wrong to have raised your skirt like that.”

“Probably?” She squinted at him.

He gripped the steering wheel. “Why is it women focus on one word? I said I was sorry.”

“Jeez, I totally missed that part.”

“Okay, I said I was wrong. Isn’t it the same thing?”

“You said you were
probably
wrong,” she corrected.

He stared at the car ceiling as if in frustration. “Do you have somewhere else you could go?”

“Yes,” she lied and started brainstorming, because…

“Where?”

Because she knew he was going to ask her that. She mentally searched for options. Joe? No. That would be too awkward. Les’s parents? No, they had Mimi living there, which was why Les was planning on staying with her. Lola? Lola lived over the gallery in the efficiency
apartment and had Allen, and occasionally Marco, popping in for quickies. Another hotel? Considering the killer had found her at one of those, the idea—

“We’re adults, Red.” Her time was obviously up.

“Really? We didn’t behave like it back at the gallery.”

Both his eyebrows arched over his soft brown eyes. “
We?
Are you actually taking part of the blame here?”

“I never said I didn’t share in the responsibility. But I didn’t stick my hand in your underwear, either.”

“Probably a good thing,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.
Probably
.” Silence filled the parked car.

“Look,” he said. “I have an extra bedroom and—”

“You can honestly tell me that
you
won’t…that we won’t do anything.”

“I can honestly tell you that if you tell me no, I’ll accept it.”

“But you’re not above trying?” she asked.

“Probably not.” He grinned at her. “But hey, we’ve been together for almost two hours since the gallery and we’ve managed to keep our clothes on.”

But she’d thought about getting naked with him. Both before and after she’d found out she had a psycho killer after her. Now how bad was that? If learning she was next to be brutally murdered wasn’t enough to douse the flames of desire, what would?

Throwing up
.

In the bathroom it hadn’t been sexual. It had been tender, caring…and on some level those emotions scared her more.

“Let’s be logical,” he said.

Okay, she’d give logic a shot. And logically, if she agreed to go and stay at his place, she knew what would happen. She’d end up on the Carl Hades Poked List.

Oh, and how had he so logically put it back at the gallery? He didn’t intend to watch
The Brady Bunch
? Sure, she had to give him a point for honesty. But honesty
didn’t make a big whopping difference in the big picture. Because all the things she valued—a family, a home—mattered zilch in the world of Carl Hades.

“Come on, Red. Nothing will happen unless we let it.” All the teasing had faded from his eyes. “This guy isn’t playing around. He’s serious.” Pause. “Just for a few days.”

She gripped her hands together. “I need to think about it.”

He let go of a deep gulp of air. “Are you saying that you’d rather risk being killed than risk having sex with me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Frowning, he started the car.

Katie had a hunch she was the first woman who hadn’t leaped tall buildings for the chance to leave a wet spot in Carl’s bed. Mostly because when he parked beside her car back at Starbucks ten minutes later, he hadn’t stopped looking stunned. Sighing, she mentally went over it one more time. If she stayed at his house, she’d probably have sex with him, but if she went out on her own, a psycho might track her down and kill her.

She weighed her options. Sex. Wonderful sex. Or being murdered. Brutally murdered. Okay, she wasn’t stupid. She knew one had a lot more going for it than the other, but…

It was just that sex for sex’s sake, with zero pretenses that it could lead anywhere, was wrong. It was just…well, it was so un-Ray-like.

Not that her parents had raised an idiot, either. It had only taken her one-tenth of a second to conclude she’d be going home with him. The other nine minutes, fifty-nine and nine-tenths of a second she’d spent thinking about it were for fun. She loved the look of total disbelief on his face.

“Only for a few days,” she said. “And I’ll need to get some things at my place first.” She studied him again.

He smiled. The scratches she’d given him were fading. Again, she was hit by how much he looked like Antonio Banderas, how attracted she was to him. Not that this was just a physical attraction. She liked him, inside and out.

And right then, Katie knew that if she didn’t proceed with caution, she’d leave behind more than a wet spot when she crawled out of his bed. She’d be leaving her heart.

She had just pulled out of the parking lot to pick up some of her things from her house when her cell phone rang. The thought that it might be the killer made her want to toss the cell out the window; then she forced herself to look at the caller ID. Just Les.

“Hi.” Katie hoped she sounded normal. Normal versus a woman who’d just found out she was being stalked by a serial killer. Then a sprinkle of guilt hit her for having forgotten about her best friend’s grandma. “How’s Mimi?”

“She’s okay.” Stress clung to Les’s voice.

“What happened? She didn’t have another stroke, did she?”

“No. She…Oh, Katie, I was watching her and she got away. We found her walking down Megan Drive. Naked.”

“Oh, my,” Katie said. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was,” Les said. “The doctor went ahead and had her X-rayed to make sure she hadn’t fallen, but she’s fine.”

“Thank God.” Katie knew how much Les loved her grandma. There was a silence; then Les spoke. “Katie, I’m thinking about getting my ticket moved up and heading back to Boston.”

“Why?” Katie asked.

“I’m just not…I can’t handle being home.”

“Because of Mike?” Katie felt Les’s pain. Some days she missed her family too much to be alive.

Another pause, then Les finally answered. “Probably.”

Probably, again
. Right then, Katie remembered the whole Joe and Les issue. She almost blurted out that if Les was attracted to Joe then she should explore it. But knowing Les, she would deny it. Best to broach that subject in person.

“Please don’t leave. I need you,” Katie said. “I—”

“Oh, shit. I forgot. You aren’t at the hotel yet, are you? Please tell me you aren’t there.”

Reacting to the panic in Les’s voice, Katie stopped at a red light a little fast. “No, why?”

“It’s probably nothing, but someone who said he needed to speak with you about the wedding called my house this morning. Mom told him where we were. I’m sure it’s nothing, but it weirded me out after what that cop said about being cautious.”

Chills tap-danced up Katie’s spine. A deep breath later, she told Les everything. Well, she didn’t tell her about having almost had sex with Carl in the middle of the gallery, but she told her friend about the elephant painting—which brought on more dangerous feelings than the almost-sex episode.

Katie looked in her rearview mirror to see the elephant-painting giver following her in his car. Then she told Les about the break-in at the hotel, about how the cops thought the man who’d shot Tabitha was the same one who’d killed the two women on the news. “And they think he’s after me now.”

“Why do they think that?” Panic radiated from Les’s voice.

“I’ve been getting calls and someone just plays music.”

“Oh my God! He called your house three times that night you were missing!”

Great. All Katie needed was more proof that the psycho was after her. Forcing herself to continue, she told Les about how Ben thought someone
had
broken into the
house and that it hadn’t been just the storm that broke the window.

Silence echoed across the line. Les’s whispered words finally came. “Joe showing up saved my life.”

Fear crowded Katie’s chest. Then it faded as an idea began to take shape. “Guess you owe him, huh?”

“Yeah,” Les said. “So, are we going to change hotels?”

More ideas formed in Katie’s mind. It was a long shot, but if she could pull this off, maybe, just maybe, she could force Les into facing things head-on instead of always running away.

“Actually, Les. I have a big,
big
favor to ask.”

“Why do I not like your tone?” Les’s voice echoed. Les always picked up on tones.

“I’m going to go stay with Carl for a few days.”

Hear-a-pin-drop silence came over the line.

“Les?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out what I’m supposed to say to that. Tell you to go for it, or talk you out of it.”

Katie changed lanes. “Didn’t you just tell me last night that life was too short not to listen to bells?”

“Are you sure about this, Katie?” Les asked.

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

“Are you going to sleep with him?” Les hung the question out there.

“Probably.”
Probably
. Now Katie had said it. Funny, how little she’d used that word in her past. It just wasn’t a Ray-like word. Rays didn’t believe in probably. They set a course of action and made it happen. And if what ever they were after didn’t seem attainable, Rays didn’t go after it. Because failing wasn’t an option.

Sometimes, Katie was certain she’d been adopted.

“Okay,” Les snapped. “Who are you, and where have you hidden my best friend? Because the Katie Ray I know would never think of sleeping with a man she barely knows.”

“I know him. I mean…I don’t know him. But I do. Know what I mean?”

“Oh, hell yeah, that made perfect sense.” Les laughed, but it stopped abruptly. “Maybe you should think about this first.”

“I have thought about it, Les. I’m safer with him. And you’re safer not staying with me.” Katie had another near panic attack when she thought about how she’d feel if something happened to her friend. “Can you stay with your brother?”

“Yeah. But…I might as well go back to Boston.”

“No! I need you,” Katie pleaded, and turned down her street.

“But if you’re staying with Antonio, you don’t need me.”

Katie hesitated, decided to jump in headfirst and hope her plan worked. “I need you to help Joe.”

Silence filled the line. “Help Joe do what?”

“Help Joe cancel the wedding. I obviously can’t do it.”

“Joe’s a big boy. He can handle that by himself.” Les’s voice sounded tight.

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

“What does fair have to do with it?” Les snapped.

“Fine. Don’t help.” Katie hated resorting to the manipulation skills her parents had used on her. But hey, they worked. “I hardly ever ask you to do anything. How many times have I been there for you? Covered for you with your parents? Helped you study? How many nights in college did I sleep on the sofa so you and Paul Bakley could do the wild thing? I even pretended like I didn’t hear you two going at it. Over and over again. And I ask one thing. One thing.”

“Okay. Stop! I’ll help Joe.”

Katie smiled. “Thanks. Do you have his cell number?”

“Yeah, he gave it to me today.”

“Today?” Katie smiled again, and knew Les hadn’t
realized what she’d said. Good for Joe. “Then call him. We were supposed to meet to night and start making calls. And then there’s all the gifts at his place that need to be returned. Oh, ask him how his talk went with his mom. She’s sort of hard to handle sometimes, so I know he’s upset about it.”

Les moaned. “You are
so
going to owe me. And if you ever bring up me banging Paul Bakley again, I’m divorcing you.”

“Agreed.” Katie parked in her driveway. The sight of her cozy patio home had always brought out a sense of pride, but knowing the killer had been here changed that cozy feeling.

“And what am I supposed to tell Joe about you?” Les asked.

Katie looked up and saw Carl sauntering over to her car. All six feet and more of him, a brown-eyed devil in khaki pants and a pink button-down, he was moving toward her with a slow, sexy gait. Their gazes held and he winked. The air in her lungs caught.

I’m probably going to have sex with him. Probably
.

“Tell him…tell him the truth. I think he’ll understand.”

“It’s not as impressive as your place.” Carl watched Red glance around his small one-story starter home in a suburb west of Houston. Was she doing the same kind of thing he’d done at her place, when he’d looked for clues to help him figure out who Katie Ray really was? Her place was neat, feminine, cozy, and homey. All words he’d use to describe Katie herself. She even had those scented candles that his sister-in-law loved. One room smelled like apples, the next like flowers. Her bedroom smelled like her, though. And on the hallway walls, Katie had nothing but photographs of her family.

While she’d packed her things, he’d taken the time to look at those images. He’d found himself hurting for
all she’d lost. A whole family. Gone. He could only imagine how much she’d grieved. Or how much she still grieved.

“This is nice.” Katie’s voice brought Carl to the present. She leaned in to look at his L-shaped kitchen, then she glanced back at his living room with an adjoining dining room.

Carl watched her gaze move from item to item, his sixty-four-inch television, his old leather sofa—which had seen better days but was more comfortable than any couch he’d tried to replace it with—to his dad’s old, scarred desk, which Carl had placed in the corner of the living room so he could use the third bedroom as a weight room. Then her focus cut to the swimsuit calendar hanging over the desk.

He wondered what she assumed about him by looking at his things. Compared to her place, his home came off as cold and unfeeling. Is that how she saw him—cold, a little scarred, and maybe even a little lonely? He reached up to rub his shoulder, hating the fact that his home did indeed reflect his life right now, hating the fact that he cared how she viewed him and his home. He’d never cared what other women thought.

“Here, let me take your things.” He reached for her bags, but she pulled them back when his hand touched hers.

“Just show me where.”

He turned the corner to show her to his room, flinching when he spotted his unmade bed. Not that it should have surprised him; he hadn’t expected it to make itself. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made it. But he could still hear his mother ragging him to do it.

His frown deepened when he saw the dirty socks lying next to the Victoria’s Secret catalog on the nightstand. Oh yeah, he was looking really good now.

“Isn’t this your room?” she asked.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he said, but honestly, did she really believe they wouldn’t be sleeping together? In spite of what she might or might not think of his home, the sexual energy between them flowed so hot it could melt concrete.

Back in the car when she’d been weighing the options of having sex with him or getting murdered—which ticked him off royally, by the way—he’d come within a hair of promising her nothing would happen. But he’d caught himself just in time. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. While he’d never pressure her to have sex with him, he sure as hell wouldn’t get in the way of its spontaneously happening. And considering the sparks flying between them, a spontaneous explosion had pretty much been written in stone.

She eyed his bed with skepticism.

He frowned. “The sheets are clean.”

“It’s not that. It’s…I’m not running you out of your bed.” She U-turned, but stopped short at the door. “
Oh!
”

What now? Had he left his underwear out? He moved in. “Damn!”

“Is that…Tabitha’s dog, Baby?”

“Yup.” There in the entrance of the extra bedroom were Baby and Precious. Precious had ripped off another pair of Baby’s panties. They weren’t standing there cute-like with their tails wagging. They were going at it like…like a couple of dogs.

“And that’s Precious?” She chuckled. “Your big, manly dog?”

“Yup. But hey, he’s looking pretty good in the manly department right now.” He chuckled and moved closer. So close the smell of Red’s hair filled his nose. He ached to encircle her waist with his hands and pull her against him.

“You took Tabitha’s dog?”

Her voice came out soft. As soft as her lips looked when the words left them. He opened his mouth to
blame all this on his dad, but something that looked like admiration passed over her expression. “Yeah, sort of.”

“You really are a marshmallow, aren’t you?”

“Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Her smile widened with admiration. “It’s good.”

“Then I’m a marshmallow.” He took her small suitcase and set it against the wall. They could fight about where she’d sleep later. After the spontaneous explosion.

“Why don’t we let them have their privacy?” He gave her a little push out of the hallway before the temptation to pull her back to his bed overtook him.

She started moving, then stopped. “I would kind of like to get out of these clothes.”

He’d kind of like to get her out of those clothes, too. Holding his breath, he motioned back to the bathroom off the hall. “It’s all yours.”

Patience
, he told himself.

As soon as she disappeared into the bathroom, he shut the door to the extra bedroom so the dogs wouldn’t make another embarrassing appearance. Then he ran to his bedroom, grabbed up his dirty socks and the Victoria’s Secret magazine, and hid them under his bed. Trying to think of anything else his mother would have griped about, he ran to the master bathroom, gave the toilet a few swipes with a brush, and lowered the lid. After washing his hands and gargling with some mouthwash, he headed back to the living room. He started to turn on the television and decided instead to go for music. He found the easy-rock station and set it to low. Looking around, he realized his palms were sweating.