Where Dreams Begin (23 page)

Catherine scarcely knew where to begin. “We butt heads so often that I’m reminded of the bumper cars they used to have at amusement parks.”

“I remember those,” Joyce cried. “In fact, I once dated a man who had one he’d bought from the Newport Beach Fun Zone. It made a nifty little couch in his bedroom.”

“I’ll just bet it did.”

“At least he didn’t live with his mother.”

“And Shane does?”

“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Will you please stop looking for trouble?” With a concerted effort, Catherine kept their conversation light for the remainder of the meal. Then as she left Joyce’s, she saw Luke’s car parked in front of her house and hoped she could take her own advice. But it was a challenge to remain calmly optimistic rather than desperately eager for love.

Luke had been sitting on the porch steps and leapt to his feet as Catherine came up the walk. He brushed off the seat of his pants and raked a hand through his hair before greeting her. “I swear I’m not stalking you.”

“That’s a relief. How long did you plan to wait?”

He shrugged. “As long as it took.”

She slipped by him to unlock her door. “Come on in. What’s happened, has another lowlife been murdered?”

“I don’t know, maybe. We can always hope.”

Catherine left her keys on the table beside the door and held up a plastic storage bag filled with cookies. “I had dinner with my Neighborhood Watch buddy, and she makes great cookies. Would you like some?”

“Do you have any milk? I haven’t had milk and cookies in years.”

She wished all his requests were so easy to fill. “Sure, I have milk.”

Luke sat at the breakfast table while she turned on the fire under the teakettle and poured his milk into a glass. She got out a plate for the cookies and brought them to the table with the milk and napkins.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “I just came by to say that I was wrong, yet again. I do have a heart, but it’s shriveled to the size of a raisin.”

She sank into a chair, slid her hand over his and gave his fingers an affectionate squeeze. “From what I’ve heard, milk and cookies are the recommended treatment for shriveled heart syndrome.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “I’m trying to be serious, Catherine.”

“So am I, but not too serious, and it’s far easier to relax here than at Lost Angel.”

“Yes, it sure is.” He grabbed a cookie with his free hand and took a bite. “Say, these are good.”

“Joyce swears she just uses the recipe on the bag of Nestle Toll House Morsels, but somehow her cookies are always especially good.”

“That’s a gift, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. She’s frantic a certain man’s mother won’t like her, and it just occurred to me that you haven’t mentioned your parents other than to say they insisted upon a wedding. Are they still living?”

He swallowed a gulp of milk before replying. “I’ll say. They’re in their mid-sixties and still have more energy than most people half their age. My father’s a geologist, and he and my mother travel a good part of the year. Their home is in Tucson now, where he does some work for the University. Arizona is a great place to study rock formations.”

“If you’re into that kind of thing,” Catherine amended.

“Right, and I wasn’t. Not that I didn’t love dinosaurs as much as any other boy, but people were always more interesting to me than fossils. So I became a psychologist and swiftly learned the more I studied, the less I knew. I’ll try to find time to look up some statistics on serial killers, though, so we’ll be ready for Garcia and Salzman the next time they show up at our door.”

At the teakettle’s whistle, she got up to make her tea and brought it to the table. “If it weren’t for Lost Angel, we wouldn’t have met, but I’m afraid the tensions there will make everything doubly difficult for us.”

He reached for another cookie. “That’s just modern life. It’s complicated everywhere.”

“Please don’t be flippant.”

“I wasn’t,” he denied. “It’s the truth.”

“I’ve heard truth described as a matter of opinion.”

“Well, in many cases it is,” he agreed with a deep chuckle. “You’re a dangerous woman, Catherine Brooks. You have an eye for the heart of any matter, and I’ll bet that makes most people damn uncomfortable.”

“Yes, frequently with disastrous results, but life is too short for evasion and pretense.”

His expression darkened, and he sat back to regard her with an accusing gaze. “I explained why I don’t want the kids to know we’re seeing each other.”

She was surprised by his curt rebuke. “I wasn’t referring to you.”

“I think you probably were, so I better get out while the getting is still good.”

Before he could stand, Catherine reached out to coil her fingers around his arm, and his skin held an inviting warmth. “Wait. I wish you’d stay.”

“Why, do you have some old
National Geographics
you need to sort?”

She was glad she hadn’t just taken a sip of tea, because she would have blown it all over him. “What a goofy idea, but that’s what I like best about you.”

He rose and pulled her from her chair. “You think goofy is appealing?”

“Not in anyone else, but you can be so delightfully playful at times that I wonder if that isn’t the real you.”

“You want to see the real me?”

A daring gleam had entered his eye and when Catherine nodded, he grabbed hold of her waist and, with a seemingly effortless lift, set her atop the nearby counter. She was wearing a skirt, and between deep kisses, he peeled off her panties and ran his fingertips up her thighs to trace teasing circles along her cleft.

She was amazed he could move with such astonishing speed from a wary skepticism to a heated hunger, but she welcomed his affection gladly. She was already wet and spread her legs wide to encourage him to delve deeper. She reached for his belt and quickly unfastened it and his zipper. She slid her hand over his erection, fondling, enticing, guiding him, until he drew back to yank on a condom. For one dreadful instant, she feared the counter was too high for what he intended, but then he moved back between her legs and, with an easy jab, slid right into her.

With his next lunge, he stretched her depths, and she rocked forward to lock her legs around his hips and created a perfect fit. When he quickened his thrusts, she gasped way back in her throat in a low, keening purr. She ran her hands through his hair to gather him close and clung to his shoulders. Awash in desire, she rode him, bucked with him, and finally joined him in an explosion of pleasure that tumbled them both crazily to the floor.

When she could again draw a deep breath, she rose up slightly and was astonished to find her whole kitchen wasn’t in complete disarray, but except for a pair of tangled lovers, nothing was out of place. The width of Luke’s smile convinced her he was feeling no pain, and she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Will you still have time to sort
National Geographics
?” she asked.

The provocative question was so surprising, he laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks, and in an instant, Catherine fell in love. She enjoyed prompting his laughter almost as much as sating his passion. He didn’t laugh nearly enough, and she vowed to remedy that sad situation as often as humanly possible.

Eventually they were able to pull their clothes back into place and feed the cat. They climbed the stairs and found her bed far more comfortable than the kitchen counter, but as Catherine fell asleep in Luke’s arms, his unrestrained laughter still echoed in her heart.

Luke was away from Lost Angel for much of Thursday and again missed seeing Catherine, but he was there bright and early Friday morning ready to help her and Dave judge the mural contest. Too curious to remain in the office, Pamela walked over to the hall with him.

“What is it you’re looking for in the winner?” she asked.

“Damned if I know, but I imagine we’ll recognize it when we see it,” Luke answered. He had the sinking suspicion he and Catherine would never agree on the winner, but because they still hadn’t chosen a site, he refused to be overly concerned.

Dave had on a colorful Aerosmith T-shirt that day, and he’d already pinned up most of the drawings on the long bulletin board reserved for flyers. “I’m particularly fond of Tina’s trash cans and cat,” he remarked. “Let me know when you find one to your liking.”

Luke spotted Catherine talking with Nick, but he cautiously remained beside Dave while Pam began perusing the drawings. “I hadn’t thought we’d get so many entries.”

“Neither did I,” Dave responded, “but interest just sort of mushroomed during the week. Looks to me like we have enough ideas here for a dozen murals. Have you made up your mind about Toby’s place yet?”

“No, but I’m praying something more suitable will occur to me in the next few minutes.” He jumped when Catherine brushed against his side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologized. “What do you say to having the kids sit down while we study the entries? If we start at opposite ends, and Dave begins in the middle, we won’t constantly be in each other’s way.”

“Good plan,” Luke said, and he strode off toward the kitchen end of the bulletin board to wait while Dave pinned up the last few drawings. “Do you want to help judge, Pam?”

The secretary backed away. “No, thanks, now that I’ve seen everything, I don’t believe I could choose. I better just get back to the office. Good luck, kids.”

Dave turned to Catherine and dropped his voice. “I don’t think Luke is much interested in this, so it’ll be up to us to pick the winner. I sure hope we agree.”

Catherine noticed Rafael standing with Tina, and he still had a long roll of paper in his hand. “Do you want to put your entry up on the board?” she called to him.

“No, I don’t want to spoil it for everyone else. I’ll wait until you’ve seen the others,” he replied.

Catherine didn’t care for his confident smirk but nodded and walked down to the far end of the bulletin board where she stole a quick glance at Luke. He was looking her way with an equally appreciative expression, and certain the whole room must know they were lovers, she hurriedly focused her attention on the artwork.

Because she’d observed the drawings as they had progressed during the week, there were no real surprises. Several of the kids had complained they just couldn’t get what was in their imagination down on paper, but she’d encouraged them to keep trying. Now, looking at their completed drawings, she was delighted that even the most frustrated of the teenagers had wanted to display their work.

She was also impressed by the incredible variety to the angels posted along the wall. Some possessed a whimsical charm, while others, like Tina Stassy’s, were drawn in a darker, more impressionist style. “I’d like to choose them all,” she whispered as her path crossed Dave’s.

“We could make a collage,” Dave replied.

Catherine rather liked that idea, but she stood for a long moment in front of Tina’s design. The drawing itself wasn’t as polished as some, but the idea of a homeless angel and cat scrounging through trash was infinitely appealing.

“What do you think?” she asked Luke as he stepped around her.

“I think we might choose several of the designs and have a set of greeting cards made. The volunteers would all buy them, and it might be a good publicity tool.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Catherine exclaimed. “It’ll be so much easier to select several winners rather than one.”

“Are you finished yet?” Rafael called to them. “I don’t want an unfair advantage, but if you’ve seen all the other drawings, then you ought to take a look at mine.”

“Come on down,” Luke instructed with a wave. “We’re dying to see your work.”

When Rafael chose the center of the board, Catherine had to step back out of his way. She couldn’t help but fear he might have drawn a tasteless orgy rather than an angelic scene, but when he unrolled his artwork, she was absolutely stunned.

His angels were drawn in exquisite detail, and not only did he possess an impressive knowledge of anatomy, he’d also dressed his heavenly creatures in pastel robes whose hems were ruffled by a graceful breeze. Alone, in pairs, and groups of threes, the angels were climbing up the front of a Victorian house easily recognizable as Toby McClure’s. Not merely a hazy background, the historic structure was rendered with a draftsman’s skill.

That would have been enough to win the contest right there, but Rafael had also given each angel the beautifully expressive face of one of his friends.

The drawing brought tears to Catherine’s eyes, but Dave had an entirely different reaction. “I think we ought to get Toby over here right now,” he stressed to Luke.

The teenagers had responded with hushed amazement, but Luke just shrugged. “Go on and call Toby. I’d value his opinion, but I don’t for a minute believe this is your work, Rafael.”

Dumbfounded, Catherine shook her head in disbelief. On more than one occasion, Luke had shocked her by going off on an absurd tangent, but this was simply too much. “Then whose work is it?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Luke replied, “but did you see Rafael draw even a corner of this?”

“No, I haven’t seen him all week,” Catherine admitted, “but that doesn’t mean the drawing isn’t his.”

“I don’t believe it,” Rafael swore. “You didn’t accuse anyone else of stealing someone else’s work, but you don’t believe I’m capable of turning out anything good?”

Catherine was as disgusted as Rafael. “Look at the angels’ faces,” she implored. Stepping close, she recognized Violet’s shyly averted gaze in an angel scaling the porch roof. “This was obviously drawn by someone who knew the kids who come here. Why do you doubt it was Rafael?”

“It might just be a hunch, but I do,” Luke stated calmly. “Here’s Toby, he’s a professional artist. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Catherine turned toward the door, but in jeans and a black long-sleeved turtleneck jersey, none of the flamboyant artist’s tattoos was visible. He had pulled his long curls back into a ponytail and looked quite respectable. Then he winked at her, and she knew, regardless of his more conservative attire, he was the same sly flirt she’d met.