Mr Destiny (9 page)

From their first date, he'd realized he would have to do everything in his power to sweep Kate off her feet. A long engagement
had never been on his agenda. Nor would a big wedding be a possibility. Big weddings caused tensions to rise and gave friends
like Kate's damnable best friend Alex chances to put doubts into people's minds.

He knew Alex didn't like him.

He wasn't going to take that chance.

He was going to keep doing exactly what he'd been doing from the moment he met Kate. He was going to overwhelm her with his
charm and usher her to the altar as quickly as possible.

Sweet, beautiful Kate.

What man wouldn't want a trophy wife like her?

He wasn't an idiot.

He'd been on his best behavior from day one. He'd showered her with more attention than any woman deserved. He'd made it a
point to make her believe he adored her completely. He'd even done a complete snow job on her grandmother and the unstable
little twit who was currently living with her, Eve. Her friend Alex was the only thorn in his side.

He was sure Alex had been responsible for Kate's concern that as compatible as they were together, the physical attraction
between them was lacking. When Kate brought the subject up, it had stunned him. No, it had infuriated him, actually. Thankfully,
he'd always been a master at controlling his emotions. Had Kate not been so perfect in every other way, he would have dropped
her at that first sign of insurrection.

Except Kate
was
perfect wife material.

More perfect than any woman he would ever find again.

He knew that.

“A successful man keeps his home life and his real life separate,” his father had hammered into his brain. “Give the woman
you marry everything a woman could ask for. Put her up on a pedestal where your
wife
belongs. But take your pleasure where money can buy you whatever you want in the bedroom. You do that, and you'll have a
successful career, a successful marriage, and a sexually satisfying private life.”

His father had proved that point on his eighteenth birthday. His birthday gift from dear old dad had been the type of woman
you reserved for the bedroom. That coming-of-age experience had definitely been satisfying beyond his wildest dreams. It had
also set the stage for his adult sexual preferences.

He often wondered what the couple's therapist he and Kate were seeing would say if she knew the real reason behind why he
had no interest in Kate physically.

Harold smiled.

Dr. Elaine Markam had been so intent on bringing his “problem” to light, she'd quickly filled in all the blanks with her own
absurd assumptions.

Clueless bitch.

However, when he thought about it, he decided he should actually double Dr. Markam's fee. After only two months into therapy,
he'd proposed, and Kate had accepted.

Now Kate truly believed he was suffering from some imaginary penile inferiority complex. That meant she had stopped worrying
about their lack of physical contact for the moment, getting her off his back. It also meant after they were married and he
forced himself to take her to bed often enough to keep her happy, she would believe her patience and understanding had cured
him—making her even more devoted to him.

But most importantly, she would never suspect the problem all along had been that nice girls like Kate had never been able
to satisfy his sexual appetite.

Kate was going to be his wife.

He would put her on a pedestal where she belonged.

His pleasure he'd take elsewhere.

Harold smiled again as he waited for the elevator that would take him to the grand deluxe suite he always reserved when he
stayed there—one of Chicago's finest hotels. There was no doubt in his mind that marrying Kate would be the best possible
move he could make. Having a beautiful wife and a gracious hostess would undoubtedly complete the image that went along with
his already-successful career. His finally getting married would please his doting mother immensely. Also, having Kate to
take care of the elementary aspects of running his household would free him up for even more
private
life time when he wanted it.

A sexually satisfying private life.

That was his ultimate goal.

“Good evening,” an older gentleman said when Harold stepped into the elevator. Harold ignored the man and pushed the button
for his tenth-floor suite. Arrogance was another fond trait his father had passed down to him. Like his father, he had no
desire to waste time on empty conversations with irrelevant people he had no interest in knowing.

But also like his father, he could turn on the charm when it suited his purpose—as was the case where his mother and his darling
fiancée, Kate, were concerned. When it came to the only two women who would ever be relevant in his life, being so charming
it often sickened him would
always
suit his purpose.

He left the elevator, reached his suite, and slid the plastic key into the slot. Once inside, he tossed his briefcase onto
a chair, took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, then headed to the wet bar. A tumbler of Scotch in hand a few minutes
later, he walked to the living room area of the suite, punched the remote, and slumped down on the plush leather sofa as the
large plasma screen came to life.

He had exactly fifteen minutes to relax before his scheduled seven o'clock nightly call to Kate. If possible, he would limit
that call to less than five minutes. After calling Kate, he would make an equally dutiful but brief call to his mother. Then,
he would finally be free to shower and head off to a less respectable room he already had reserved in a less than respectable
part of Chicago.

He brought the tumbler to his lips for a long sip, thinking that the hefty tip he handed the desk clerk would be all that
was required to arrange for the feature presentation he had in mind for the evening. The clerk had certainly never let him
down in the past.

However, thinking about his last trip to Chicago made him glance at his Rolex again, wishing he already had those calls behind
him so he could fully begin to anticipate the type of excitement only a certain type of woman had ever been able to give him.
As usual, he would have only one requirement.

She had to be a redhead or a brunette.

No blondes.

His beloved mother and his bride-to-be were blondes.

“It's almost seven o'clock,” Kate said as she pulled her cell phone from her purse. She looked across the table. The apple
martinis Madam Alexis predicted would be in their immediate future had been found in a trendy new uptown restaurant. “I would
appreciate no smart remarks when Harold calls. Okay?”

“Are you talking to me? Are
you
talking to me?
You
, are you talking to me?”

“No, Alex. I'm talking to Eve,” Kate said. “And for the record, your De Niro impersonation sucks.”

Alex stuck her tongue out at Kate.

But Eve's heart-shaped face screwed up in a puzzled frown. “You're talking to
me
? But I've never made a smart remark about Harold in my life.”

“Kate was joking, Eve,” Alex said, rolling her eyes.

“And the only reason I let Alex get away with making smart remarks about Harold,” Kate said, “is because Alex knows she's
wasting her time.”

“So far,” Alex said. “One can always hope.”

Eve looked over at Alex and blinked a few times. “I really don't understand you, Alex. Harold is crazy about Kate. Anyone
who's around them for five seconds can see that.”

“That's what worries me,” Alex said. “Harold is too damn perfect around Kate.”

“I've always thought Harold looks just like Pierce Brosnan,” Eve said.

“Pierce Brosnan without a personality, maybe,” Alex threw in. She took another sip from her glass, then smiled a catty smile
when she said, “I assume you meant no smart remarks about your surprise visitor today, Kate?”

“I meant no smart remarks, period,” Kate said. “Harold never talks more than a few minutes. I'm sure you can dilute your acid
tongue with your martini until I finish my conversation.”

Alex shrugged again. “If it doesn't bother you that the man you're going to marry schedules a specific time to call you every
night, why should I care?”

“Harold's a little conservative, that's all,” Kate said. “There's nothing wrong with that.”

Alex laughed. “A
little
conservative? Harold's so conservative his private jet wouldn't even have a left freaking wing.”

Eve looked at Kate. “When did Harold get a private jet?”

Alex said, “I wonder how conservative Harold's going to be when you tell him you have a hot date with the cop tomorrow night.”

“You know it isn't a hot date,” Kate said.

“But you are going to tell him about it. Right?”

Kate's cell phone rang promptly at seven before she could answer Alex's question.

She and Harold exchanged the usual hi-how-are-you pleasantries. But when he threatened to cut the call even shorter than usual,
Kate broke in, and said, “Remember the cop I met a few weeks ago? The one who claimed his grandmother predicted he would meet
the woman he was going to marry in Central Park? He came to see me again today.”

“If he's harassing you, I can make one phone call and have his badge,” Harold said in a self-aggrandizing voice.

“No,” Kate said quickly. She turned around in her chair and turned her back on Alex and Eve. “He isn't harassing me, Harold.
He just has a problem. He wants me to meet his grandmother. Just to prove to his family that I'm not the woman he's supposed
to marry.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I know, it sounds bizarre.” She left out the part about his mother being locked in her bedroom praying. That part was still
hard for her to believe herself. “But his family is upset,” Kate said. “And I did agree to meet the grandmother.”

“You're too nice for your own good, Kate,” he said, with a sigh. “People can sense that about you. The cop's problem with
his family is
his
problem. Not yours.”

“I know it's not my problem, Harold,” Kate said, trying not to be miffed at the condescending tone in his voice. “But this
is an unusual situation. I really am the only one who can help him.”

He let out another disgusted sigh. “You agreed to meet the grandmother where?”

Kate squeezed her eyes shut, already anticipating Harold's reaction. Manhattan was the only New York City borough that existed
for him. “I'm meeting the grandmother at his parents' restaurant in Queens.”

“Queens,” Harold said flatly. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

Kate ignored him. “I'll take a taxi. Straight to Queens. Straight back. I just thought you should know. That's the only reason
I mentioned it.”

“Nonsense,” Harold said. “I'll call my driver. If you're determined to go to Queens, he'll take you. When are you going?”

“Tomorrow night. I need to be there by seven o'clock.”

“Morgan will pick you up at your apartment at six,” Harold said. “But I want you to warn this guy that if he bothers you again,
he'll be facing a restraining order.”

A restraining order.

Nice touch, Harold.

“I really must get going,” he said. “I'll call you tomorrow night at nine instead of seven. I'm having dinner with the CEO
of the company I'm representing. I should be through by nine, and you should be back from Queens by then.”

He hung up as Kate mumbled a quick good-bye.

“Well?” Alex said when Kate closed her cell phone and turned back around in her chair. “Is Harold upset that you agreed to
go to Queens?”

“Not really. He's sending his driver to take me.”

“Kate!” Alex said, shaking her head. “Please tell me you realize there's something wrong with Harold's reaction.”

“Harold trusts me.”

“Trusts you? Or is he just so arrogant he can't imagine you looking at anyone else? Especially some cop?”

Kate refused to answer.

“I'm just saying the first question John would have asked me if I told him I was going off to meet some guy who claimed we
were destined to be together was whether or not I was attracted to the guy.”

Eve sent Kate a sheepish look. “Sorry, Kate. But even the snake would have asked me the same thing.”

Kate shrugged. “Okay. Maybe Harold is a bit overconfident. I don't see why that's a problem.”

“It's a problem because you and Harold both treat your relationship like some business arrangement, Kate. So you like the
same things. Big deal. So you're both at a point in your lives where you're ready to settle down. So what? Those are
not
reasons to get married.”

When Kate still refused to comment, Alex said, “Tell us the truth. Why didn't you answer Tony when he asked you point-blank
if you loved Harold? And don't give me that lame ‘it's none of your business’ line you gave him. I want to hear you say it
with your own lips, Kate. Tell me you love Harold. If you do, I swear, I'll never make a smart remark about him again.”

“I love a lot of things about Harold,” Kate said. “I love the attention he gives me. I love the concern he has for his mother.
I love that he's smart, that he's confident, that…”