Her Unforgettable Fiance

He blew out a noisy, muttered oath, tossed the bags in on the seat and folded himself in beside her. He told the driver which hotel and sat back.

He hoped to hell they hit it lucky with the first few galleries. Otherwise, it was shaping up to be a hell of a long trip.

Kate pushed the bags around between her and Brett until they were right side up. One look at his profile was enough to tell her he was praying for the moment when he could pack her up and ship her away, out of his hair.

Well. She didn’t want to give him any grief; she just wanted to help find her mother. She needed to help. She had to take some action, if only to help her live with the reality of her father’s horrible lies.

She swallowed and gestured toward his briefcase. “Do you have a list of the art galleries we’ll be visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Soooo…do I ever get to see it?”

He flipped open his briefcase and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers and handed it to her.

Her jaw loosened as she paged through it. “This many? I thought you said you’d already eliminated some.”

“I did.”

“But there must be an art gallery on every corner!”

He laughed abruptly, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah. A real cultural mecca.”

Kate pressed her lips together. She focused fiercely on the list, reading each and every entry as if committing them to memory. It was better than dwelling on the shiver down her spine that his humorless laugh had produced. She managed to make the task last until the cab finally pulled to a stop in front of a multistoried hotel.

She looked around curiously as she climbed out of the cab after him. Though it was definitely warm, the air was still cooler than it had been at home and for the first time that day, Kate felt a little of her tension ease. Once she checked into her own hotel room and had a few minutes away from Brett, she’d surely get a handle on the taut, edginess that plagued her.

She sighed faintly, eyeing the expansive park across the street. Dozens of pedestrians walked by. It was busy and colorful and lovely, and under any other circumstances, she’d make plans first thing to explore the park.

“Planning to stand out here all day, princess?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop acting like one.”

She wanted to slug him and the impulse shocked her. So, instead, she sailed past him through the hotel’s beautiful entry, heading straight for the registration desk. She dropped her tote bag to the floor by her feet and smiled at the registration clerk. She’d barely opened her mouth to speak when Brett appeared at her side.

“Reservation for Larson,” he said over her head to the clerk who nodded and began pecking at his computer.

“Yes, sir,” the young man said after a moment. “I have that right here.” He set a small form and a pen on the gleaming counter. “If you could just check the information and sign there, I’ll make sure your room is ready for you.”

Kate felt a jolt. “Ah…room?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Brett closed his fingers around her elbow, but she ignored the warning squeeze.

“One…room?

“Yes, ma’am.” The young man’s eyes flickered uncertainly to Brett.

“Two rooms,” she said firmly.

Brett’s fingers tightened even more. “Excuse us for a sec,” he told the clerk, and dragged Kate away from the desk.

She yanked her arm out of his grip. “I am not sharing a room with you,” she said flatly. “I don’t know what you think I was suggesting when I told you I was coming to Bos—”

“I’m not gonna jump your bones the second we’re alone in a hotel room, so get over it.”

Her cheeks felt on fire. “I am not sharing a room with you.”

“Then you can take your pretty behind back to Grandview. It’s August, Kate. Look around you. This place is crawling with people. You think I like the idea of sharing a room with you? Trust me. It wasn’t my first choice.”

“Then…get…a…suite.”

“How can you be a therapist when you don’t listen to a word anyone says? This place is booked as damn solid as the plane was.”

She spun on her heel and strode back to the desk. “Could we get a two-bedroom suite, instead?” She reached for her purse and her credit card.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Larson. We don’t have anything available this week at all. There’s a conference here, you see. Podiatrists.” He shrugged apologetically, but Kate had stopped listening after being called Mrs. Larson.

Her brain simply shut off.

“If I see you pull out that bloody credit card, I’m gonna cut it in half,” Brett murmured above her ear as he signed the registration form and pushed it back toward the clerk.

He palmed the narrow key card folder the clerk handed him and tugged Kate through the lobby toward the bank of elevators. Painfully aware of the looks they were receiving from the bellman who was carrying their few pieces of luggage, Kate waited until they were alone in their room.

Their room.

“Mrs. Larson?” She hissed the second the bellman pocketed his tip and shut the door behind him. “You registered us as Mr. and Mrs. Larson?” Her voice rose.

She watched Brett set his briefcase on the desk with extraordinary care. “Calm down.”

“No! I won’t calm down.” How could she when the very notion of sharing a room with him was sending her nerves into shock. “What on earth possessed you? One room?” She turned and waved her arm at the room. “There’s only one bed!”

“Quit acting like an outraged virgin,” he said wearily. “It’s a king-size bed. I can sure as hell control myself. Can’t you?”

She pressed her hand to her forehead. “This is a nightmare.”

“Then go home,” he said flatly. “Because I guarantee you, Kate, I don’t need this.”

And he didn’t need her. He never had.

“I just— I don’t want to share a room. That’s all. I’m used to my privacy.”

“Yeah. That’s why you live in Stockwell Mansion with your brothers and their new wives and families.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

“And acting outraged and high and mighty is pretty damn tiring, too.” He turned away from her, striding toward the wide bay windows at the end of the spacious room. He shoved his hands through his hair, looking very much like he wanted to tear it out by the roots.

“Less than twelve hours,” he muttered. “This case is gonna kill me.”

“I’ll find another room. If not in this hotel, then another. We drove by a half dozen on this street alone.”

“No.” He pushed open the glass doors and stepped out onto the small balcony that afforded the same view of the park as the hotel’s entry.

She followed him. “I’m a grown woman, Brett Larson. What I decide to do and where I decide to stay is up to me.”

“Not if it interferes with my case. And if you’re so grown, start acting like it. We’re here to work. I registered us as a couple for a reason, and if you’d stop overreacting for a second, I’d tell you about it.”

The more reasonable he became, the more agitated she felt. “Shall I remind you that the only reason you have a case is because you’re working for my family?” It was unconscionable. She knew it the moment the words left her lips.

His hard gaze settled on her face. There was no anger in his eyes. They were as deeply, darkly brown as they ever were—so dark she could barely discern the pupils. “That’s it,” he said evenly and turned back into the room.

“Brett. No. Wait. I’m sor—”

He’d picked up his briefcase and his suitcase and walked out of the hotel room, closing the door quietly behind him.

She stared in disbelief, then ran to the door and yanked it open, darting out into the wide, plushly carpeted hallway after him. All she saw, however, was the elevator doors sliding closed.

Dismay engulfed her. What had she done? Messed things up, but good, that’s what. She went back into the room and snatched up her purse and the folder with the room key in it, then ran back out to the elevator.

She caught up with him only because he was waiting for a cab. Probably to take him back to the airport where he’d fly home to Texas and tell her brothers just what they could do with their case.

“Brett.” She caught his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He just watched her, his expression impassive.

“I am.” She felt the muscles in his arm flex and she yanked back her hand, twisting it with her other around the strap of her purse. “Please, don’t go. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I acted…badly. Whatever rules you set, I’ll follow.”

His lips twisted. “That dog won’t run, Katy. I know you too well.” He stepped forward, reaching for the door of the cab that had just pulled to a halt at the curb.

“My brothers will never forgive me if I blow this!”

“Yeah, they will,” he countered blandly. “They’ve always spoiled you rotten.”

“I’m not spoiled.”

His eyebrow rose.

“Okay, so they did. A little,” she said hurriedly. “But you can’t just leave me here, like this.”

“Why not? Like you said, you’re a grown woman. You’re free to come and go wherever, whenever you please. Find your mother yourself.” Then he climbed in the cab and a second later, drove away.

She stood there, staring stupidly after him.

“Mrs. Larson?”

She frowned, turning toward the doorman. “What?”

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

“I…yes.” She managed a smile. Just fine and dandy, except I’m not really Mrs. Larson, and I’ve managed to alienate the one man my brothers had complete faith in.

She couldn’t continue standing on the curb without attracting even more attention from the doorman, so she went back inside the hotel. But heading to the elevator and going up to that empty room with the king-size bed was more than she could bear and she sank instead into one of the oversize chairs scattered around the gleaming lobby.

What was it about Brett Larson that reduced her from a competent, fairly even-tempered woman, into an absolute raving lunatic?

She rested her forehead on her fingertips. She’d have to call and warn her brothers what had happened. Brett would certainly let them know that he’d backed out of the case once he made it back to Grandview.

If there was a flight back to Texas soon, that meant she had only a few hours before the news hit and the shock waves spread this far east. Unless Brett used that handy, dandy cell phone he carried and lessened the time even more.

Her stomach churned just thinking about it.

She’d desperately wanted—needed—to do something active. Something productive in helping to find her mother, even if it meant having to deal with Brett.

So what was she doing sitting there, totally inactive, feeling sorry for herself?

There was nothing preventing her from going to the airport after Brett. If she was careful, if she kept her big mouth shut, she could salvage this.

She straightened and strode out to the curb just as a cab pulled up. Perfect. A good sign.

The back door opened and a man climbed out.

A tall man. Broad-shouldered. With hair as dark as teakwood and eyes as dark as chocolate.

Her mouth parted. She was so glad to see him, she nearly threw herself into his arms. She actually took several steps toward him, curtailing the impulse just in time. She stared at him, a tangle of emotions nearly choking her. “I’m glad you came back.”

He looked none too happy about it. He handed over his luggage to the doorman with a quiet word, then took Kate’s arm in his. “We’re going to get some things straight.” He drew her, unresistingly, across the street toward the park. They walked a long while, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. And she, she didn’t know what to say. Eventually he found an empty bench and nudged her toward it.

“I’ve never walked away from a case yet, Kate.” His shadowed jaw was tight. “And I’m not gonna walk on this one. But I swear, if we have to go through this kind of crap every day, I’ll stuff a gag in your mouth and cuff you to the bedrail. Understand?”

She flushed. He was still so coldly angry that she could well imagine him carrying out the threat. “I’m sorry. I’ve said I’m sorry! You just…I, we…”

“Make each other crazy,” he muttered.

She chewed the inside of her lip. “I didn’t expect to have to share a room with you, Brett. It…threw me. I’m not proud of it.”

Brett frowned. Kate had always been generous with her temper in the past, and equally generous with her apologies. “I think you were right,” he said. “That we need to forget what we know about each other and concentrate on the task at hand.”

“Well, obviously I was so successful at that. Thirty-five minutes, I believe you said.”

“Thirty-three,” he corrected.

“An even more impressive failure.” She smoothed her hand over the stone bench beside her. “Brett? Do you really think she doesn’t want to be found?”

The hard knot of anger inside him eased some at her diffident question. “Only Madelyn knows that, Katy.”

He heard her sigh, then she stood, managing to look impossibly young and fragile for someone he knew had already hit the thirty-mark. He shifted his gaze, watching a pair of joggers passing by instead.

“Is it necessary to hide my name?”

“I’ve seen some weird things in my business. Someone overhears someone talking and the next thing you know, half the city is privy to a secret that only two people were supposed to know. From what I’ve learned, the art world is a small one. Word travels. I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

“So you decided I should go by your name instead of my own.”

“You’re the one who insisted on coming here. If it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t need a cover in the first place. But since we do, it’ll be a simple one. Newlyweds, looking for a new LeClaire piece to add to our collection.”

“Newlyweds,” she repeated faintly. “How…ironic.”

“It’s simple,” he said again. He didn’t want to think about ironies. He didn’t want to think anything about the fact that they should have been newlyweds—for real—many, many years ago.

She worried her lip between her teeth for a moment. Then swallowed and spoke. “Why did you agree to take on this case, Brett?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.