Erica Lucke Dean - To Katie with Love (22 page)

My mother’s phone lit up, and I glanced down at the screen.
Perfect timing.
“Cooper said the police are coming in. We need to stay as far away from the door as possible,” I whispered.

We all shifted as close together as possible, and I listened for any noises out front.

A few minutes later, Dean barked out a string of obscenities, followed by the loudest crack I’d ever heard. Silvia let loose a bloodcurdling scream. The resulting silence brought my heart to a screeching halt as I feared the worst.

For what seemed like an eternity, my heart stilled in my chest, then sputtered to life again as a series of loud pops and the sound of glass breaking shattered the silence. Gracey yipped. Mom covered her ears as the rest of us clung to each other. Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I thought of Silvia either dead or dying out there.

An explosion of sounds vibrated off the walls, and what I imagined was a rushing stampede was nearly drowned out by the hammering of my own pulse beating in my ears, making me unsure if what I heard was even real. But I
was
certain there were multiple voices shouting in the lobby.

Silvia, her face bright red and streaked with mascara, burst into the vault. Vicky let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“Good lord, Vicky,” Silvia said, pressing her hand to her chest. “I may never hear again.”

“Silvia!” we screamed, clambering to our feet.

Silvia scooped up her little dog and surveyed the sea of feathers. “What on earth happened in here?”

“Your dog ate my hat,” my mother said quietly, obviously not recovered enough from her ordeal to manage anything more sarcastic. I was sure she’d rebound quickly. “It was quite costly. I’ll send you the bill.”

And there’s the mother I know and love.
“Oh, Silvia, I was so worried.” I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed.

“I’m fine, sweetie. I managed to duck under the desk before the SWAT team came rushing in. I just can’t believe Dean would do something so horrible.” She shook her head. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

“Dean… is he…”

Silvia shook her head again. “I didn’t see what happened to him.”

After several tense minutes spent waiting for the police to clear us to leave, we were led out of the vault.

“Wait for me. I’ve got to get my purse!” I called over my shoulder as I hurried back to retrieve it.

The lobby was filled with white smoke, and I could barely see my hands in front of my face. Navigating by memory, I ducked into my office to grab my purse and my things before heading for the door. I’d taken that route at least a hundred times… before the SWAT team had descended on the building, upending chairs and other debris now directly in my path.

I tripped over what was probably a chair and ended up sprawled face down on the carpet.

Cooper came rushing to my side, Phil close on his heels. “Katie! Are you hurt?” He turned to yell over his shoulder. “Someone call an ambulance!”

From somewhere to my left, my mother said, “She doesn’t need an ambulance. She just tripped again.”

I raised my head from the floor and could feel the unshed tears in my eyes as I flashed a weak smile at Cooper. “You’re here,” I squeaked.

“Of course I’m here. I never left.” He slid his arms beneath me and hauled me up, kissing his way from my hair to my forehead, and finally to my lips.

Mom said, “Katie, you’re so clumsy, I often wonder if the babies were switched in the hospital.”

“Cooper, have you met my mother?” I cringed, fully aware I had stepped out of the proverbial frying pan and directly into the fire.

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER

T
he longest afternoon of my life started out as a terror-filled ordeal in the bank, followed by an endless series of police interviews, and finally twisted into something even more frightening. My mother and I never once discussed Dean or the hostage situation, which would, at first glance, seem like a blessing. Instead, after a brief stop at my townhouse to grab her suitcase, Mom spent the entire evening spinning her melodramatic yarns about my less-than-stellar childhood, followed by even more horrifying tales about my near-catastrophic adolescence. I’d heard all the stories, but never in rapid succession, with every skinned knee scrutinized and dissected in gruesome detail, until it would be crystal clear to anyone listening I was the most unbearable disappointment a parent could possibly have in a child.

She managed to toss in a few nice stories. But those weren’t nearly as exciting as the tales of disaster. If I hadn’t lived them, I would have felt sorry for me. I knew she was exaggerating everything, but I was afraid Cooper would accept them at face value.

For his part, he smiled and laughed in the appropriate places. He held my hand all through dinner, giving it a supportive squeeze each time a story reached an embarrassing point. Every bit the gentleman, he never disagreed with my mother’s assessment of me, but he managed to toss in his own impressions—telling my mother how smart I was. He never once sank to Mom’s level and shared a single embarrassing moment he’d witnessed.

Once my mother disappeared into the guest room to freshen up, I helped him with the dinner dishes, and we plopped down on the sofa to wait for her to resurface. It was still early. I hadn’t fooled myself into thinking she was done for the night.

“That was interesting,” he said.

I laughed. “That isn’t the word I would have used.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“I see that. You managed to win her over.”

He put his arm around me. “Why do you say that?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t see her face when we pulled into your driveway.”

“True. What did I miss?”

I bit back a smile. “She was very impressed. You may regret having invited her to stay here, especially once she discovers we’re sleeping in the same room.” I shuddered. “I fully expect her to start planning our wedding any day now. If she hasn’t already.”

He froze, and I regretted saying the word
wedding
.

“Does she think we’re getting
married
?” Cooper shifted beside me.

Crap! Crap! Crap!
I sensed his eyes analyzing my face for some sort of answer. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. “I’m sure she hopes so,” I whispered and turned to look away. I’d never once thought of marrying Cooper. Well, I guess I had, but not consciously.

I’d dreamt it. But that was before we’d even kissed. Since our first kiss, I had been too caught up in the whirlwind of our romance to consider the possibility of marriage. I certainly didn’t want him to think I was shopping for dresses. He would think I was as bad as my mother.

She was beyond delighted he was rich, as evidenced by her not asking about his job.
Slaughters kittens for feline snuff films? Fine with her!
I almost wished he wasn’t wealthy, though. If he had been just a normal guy struggling to make ends meet, I wouldn’t have felt so much like a gold digger.

“I never said anything to her about marriage.” I tried to keep my breathing shallow, so I wouldn’t start to cry, but my traitorous eyes started to prick with fresh tears. I jumped up from the sofa and wandered back to the kitchen, pretending to rinse the sink out again. I refused to cry. He would most definitely take it the wrong way. And why would I cry, anyway? I hadn’t been thinking about marriage. Had I?

“Katie…” he murmured as he came up behind me.

He tried to pull me around to face him, but I held my ground. I knew if I looked him in the eyes, I wouldn’t be able to stop the tears.

“Would you please look at me?” There was something in his voice. Agony maybe? I wasn’t sure.

“I can’t,” I said on a shaky breath.

He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. “Have
you
ever thought of marriage?”

I gulped. “What do you mean by
thought of
?” I pushed my hair behind my ears.

He let out a nervous chuckle, and his peppermint breath washed over me from above. “As in, do you even
believe
in marriage?”

Oh.
He didn’t believe in marriage, and he was mortified I might. How did I not see that? He never wanted to get married. Was I just a fling then? Oh. My. God!

I was just a fling!
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to lie. If he didn’t want marriage… ever—if I was just temporary—I may as well find out now rather than later. I would have to end things if that was how he felt. How could I continue if we weren’t going anywhere?

“I do believe in marriage… if two people really love each other.” I let out the breath I was holding and waited.

Although I had never consciously thought about marriage, I was certain—unequivocally, unquestionably—I wanted to be married. Someday. I wouldn’t let myself think about being married to Cooper. It would hurt too much if he rejected me.

“Hmmm.” He kissed the top of my head. “What do you think your mother would like to do this evening?” He didn’t wait for me to reply. “You should probably go check on her to see if she’s settled in yet.”

“Okay.” I sighed. “I’ll go see what
she’d
like to do.” As if I actually cared what she wanted.

I ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, until I tripped and fell with a thud. I looked around to see if Cooper would come running, but he didn’t. Either he didn’t hear me stumble, or he was avoiding me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know either way.

“Mom?” I knocked on the guest room door.

She was rummaging around in there. I heard her Louis Vuitton bag zip, then her light footsteps as she walked toward the door.

She didn’t open it. “Did you need something, Katherine?” I had no idea what would prompt her to use my full name, but clearly she was irritated by something I’d done.

“Cooper wants to know if there’s something you’d like to do this evening.” I switched to my cheery voice. I thought about suggesting bowling, which brought a badly needed smirk to my lips. I doubted my mother had ever in her life gone bowling.

She turned the lock and opened the door a crack. “Tell Cooper I would very much like to visit the little coffeehouse he mentioned at dinner.” She lit up when she said his name—exactly the way I did—and I hated it. She had no right to find my boyfriend so enchanting.

“Okay. I’ll tell him.” I stomped down the hall into Cooper’s bedroom. I was no longer on the verge of tears. I was on the verge of a temper tantrum. My new boyfriend, who I was
one
, very much in love with, and who was
two
, quite possibly a hired hit man, might just be
three
, even worse… a commitment-phobic jerk. And my mother, who spent much of her existence making mine unpleasant, was completely infatuated with him.
Fabulous.

Who would have guessed there were worse things than having an assassin for a boyfriend?

I heard him coming down the hall, and I waited until he came in and closed the door. “Mom wants to go to the coffeehouse you told her about.” I flopped onto the bed with a pout. I was sure he noticed, but I suddenly didn’t care.

“You don’t seem happy,” he said as he climbed into the bed beside me. His grin was devilish, but I wasn’t in the mood to swoon.

“You are quite observant,” I crooned in my sweetest voice.

I guessed by the look on his face it came off more as sarcasm. “Wow, your mother really gets under your skin, doesn’t she?”

I tried to smile. “To call that an understatement would, in and of itself, be an understatement. My mother…” I stopped when I realized I was talking way too loud and switched to a whisper. “My mother destroys my self-esteem and makes me doubt my own intelligence.” I rolled away from him and curled into a tight ball.

“Katie…” He tucked himself against me so we were spooning and nuzzled my neck. “Your mother has no idea how wonderful you are. That’s a terrible shame. She’s missing out.” His breath tickled my neck as he whispered against my skin, “I do love you, you know.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted so much to believe him. I wouldn’t have questioned it an hour ago. But after the whole
marriage
conversation, I wasn’t so sure. “And when you’ve grown tired of me?” I felt my mouth move with the words, but I wasn’t sure if I made any sound.

He sat up and leaned over me, wearing a look of confusion and amusement. “Do you think I’m getting tired of you?” I could tell he wanted to laugh, but he somehow knew I wasn’t being funny.

“Not yet,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “You are definitely in a mood tonight. I’m afraid to say anything at all for fear you’ll misconstrue my meaning.”

“Misconstrue?” I almost laughed. But I wasn’t quite ready to let go of my irritation.

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t understand the meaning of the word?”

“Of course, I understand the meaning. I read, you know.” I glowered at him. “I just wonder sometimes.”

“About?”

“Your vocabulary. No one actually says
misconstrue
in a sentence, do they?”

“I do.” He lightly caressed the furrow between my eyebrows with one finger. “You’re going to get a wrinkle here if you don’t stop making that face.”

I bit down on the insides of my cheeks to keep from smiling.

He took advantage of my weakness and rolled me toward him, tucking me into his arms. “You’re being very stubborn tonight. I think I may have to resort to extreme measures.” He pressed his lips into the spot between my eyebrows and kissed his way down my nose to my mouth.

His lips moved quietly against mine as his breath replaced the oxygen in my lungs. I felt his warm tongue lightly tracing my bottom lip, and a jolt of heat went through me. He smiled as he realized he’d won. I would have fought back, but I no longer had the strength—or the desire—to stay angry at him.

“My mother is down the hall.”

“She’s not invited.”

I giggled. “We should stop now, while we still can.”

“Speak for yourself,” he growled.

“You started it.”

“You could finish it.”

“I don’t think I can. Not with her so close.”

“Ugh. Okay. Okay. Give me a few minutes. I don’t think I can get up just yet.”

I kissed him as if my life depended on it.

“That isn’t going to help, you know,” he whispered against my lips.

“Mmmm.”

“Katherine?” My mother’s voice carried through the door and we both froze.

“Katherine?” he mouthed.

“I’ve apparently pissed her off.”

He shook quietly with laughter, and I rolled my eyes at him.

I rose up a little. “I’m coming, Mom!”

He flashed that lopsided grin at me. I knew what he was thinking. I jumped up from the bed and swatted him on the thigh. After tucking my hair behind my ears, I checked myself in the mirror to be sure my clothes were straight before running to the door and slipping into the hall. I closed the door and spun around to find my mother standing outside the guest room with an irritated look on her face.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“I was talking to Cooper.” Well, it was only a little lie. We did some talking.

“Are we going to the coffeehouse?”

“Yes, Mom. Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for some time now. I was waiting for you.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her long coat and pulled out a leather glove from each one. She was stunning again in a different outfit. She always looked very stylish.

I didn’t. Except for lately. I was much more put together since Cooper and I had been dating. I wore my cashmere dress and dangerous boots. It amused me to see my mother wearing cashmere, too. I almost felt like I was in
US
magazine’s “Who Wore it Better?”
section.

“You look nice, Katie,” Mom said.

I couldn’t help but smile. She rarely said anything positive about my appearance.

“Cooper must be picking out your clothes for you.” The excited tone was back in her voice when she said his name, and I couldn’t blame her. She was right. I
was
dressing better because of Cooper.

“She always looks beautiful.”

I jumped a little as he came up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist and leaning around to kiss my cheek.

“Are you ladies ready?” he asked.

“Ready when you are,” Mom said with a disgustingly sweet smile.

Cooper led the way down the stairs. “Let’s go then.”

He could be quite devious when he wanted to be. My mother was all set to climb into the front seat when he opened the door to the back. The ride to the coffeehouse was short. I had it in my head we were going to Starbucks. I should have known better. When Cooper said
coffeehouse,
what he really meant was a little jazz club that served coffee.

Cooper held the door for both of us. A stage was directly to the right of the entryway, where a lanky middle-aged man with a scruffy salt-and-pepper goatee played guitar and sang an acoustic Les Paul cover. It was another place with a romantic atmosphere. I guessed Cooper probably knew every single one in a thirty-mile radius.

He towed me toward the back—with my mother close behind—where we took the last available table.

A young, blond waitress came over. “Cooper! I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“Hi, Izzy.” He smiled back. “I’ve been keeping pretty busy lately, but I brought my girlfriend, Katie, and her mother, Grace. Anyone good coming up tonight?” Cooper nodded toward the stage.

“Katie?” Izzy swatted at Cooper’s arm and then turned to me. “Well, it’s about time he brought you here. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.” I felt my cheeks burn and looked at Cooper. I wondered what he’d said about me so often she knew me by name.

“I think you’ll be pleased with the next act,” Izzy said. “Now, what can I get you to drink?”

“Irish coffee for me.” Cooper gave me a serious look. “Would you like to try Irish coffee? I think you’ll like it.”

“Sure.” I shrugged. Coffee was coffee. “I like lots of cream.”

He gave me a little grin. “It has lots of cream in it.”

“I’ll have one of those too. And I like mine fairly strong,” Mom said.

“Okay, three Irish coffees on the strong side. Got it! Anything to eat?” Izzy asked.

“I don’t think so. Thanks, Izzy.” Cooper took my hand again, weaving his fingers between mine. “So, Mrs. James, how long do you plan on staying?” He kept his tone pleasant, but I knew he was fishing for information.

“I have a flight booked for Saturday afternoon.”

“That’s great! I know exactly what we should do tomorrow evening.” He looked at me as he spoke, and I could read the devious expression in his eyes.

Mom narrowed her eyes. “What would that be?”

“Katie, tomorrow is Friday. We should invite your Mom for margaritas and señoritas.” His lopsided grin wavered slightly as he watched my expression turn from shock to amusement.

I inherited my inability to hold my liquor from my mother. “That sounds like fun.”