by Debbie Mason
She couldn’t be serious. “How about I wear that maid’s costume you wore to Phil’s Halloween party?”
Chloe blew her a kiss. “You’re the best. I knew you’d understand. Thanks, Kit Kat.”
* * *
Cat’s wardrobe choice of black leggings, black oversized T-shirt, and fuzzy black cat slippers—a gift from her sister six months earlier, when they’d been speaking, which they currently weren’t—hadn’t gone over well with Chloe. Nor had Cat’s explanation of what constituted sarcasm. Hence the no-speaking thing. Which Cat had to admit she welcomed.
Chloe, banging around in the kitchen, didn’t hear the doorbell chime. “His Highness has arrived,” Cat called from where she sat cross-legged on the sectional looking over her notes on her iPad.
Either her sister was ignoring her or indulging in her favorite pastime; listening to an audiobook. Cat sighed and placed her iPad on the white pine coffee table. Crossing the ten feet to the door, she opened it. Her jaw dropped at the sight that greeted her, and she fought the urge to press a hand to her chest and utter an oh, my. While a man wearing an expensive, well-tailored suit did it for Chloe, the man standing on the front stoop in a black leather jacket, white button-down shirt, and well-worn jeans did it for Cat.
The porch light shone down on his dark, wind-tousled hair, illuminating the smile on his handsome face. A smile that reminded her of the one he’d given her sister this morning and had Cat glancing over her shoulder to see if Chloe was behind her. She wasn’t.
Harry arched an eyebrow when she turned back to him. “Hello—”
Interrupting him before he could ruin the moment by calling her Kit Kat or Pussy, she said, “Cat.” She wanted to drink him in without her temper spoiling the view. At least for a couple more seconds. No doubt they’d return to their adversarial relationship soon enough. Which she began to think might be a good thing, since she’d sworn off men for the next couple of years. Or at least until she trusted her judgment again.
He drew a bouquet of tiger lilies from behind his back and handed them to her. “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Cat. I was hoping we could start over.”
She stared at the extravagant arrangement, then looked up at him. “For me?”
He gave her a toe-curling smile. “For you.”
“I—I don’t know what to say. They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She meant it. Her ex hadn’t been a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy. The last man who’d given her flowers had been her father. They’d arrived the day she made detective. Three weeks later he died.
“My goodness, would you let him in?” her sister said, coming up behind Cat. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse my sister’s… Oh, Harry, they’re exquisite. Thank you.” Chloe went to take the bouquet from Cat.
She clutched the flowers possessively to her chest. “They’re mine.” She felt like a seven-year-old being asked to share her favorite toy.
Chloe gave a shocked laugh, obviously as surprised by Cat’s reaction as she was. “Kit Kat, don’t be ridiculous. You’re embarrassing your…” She tugged on the flowers and Cat tugged back.
Harry neatly inserted himself between them, ending their silent tug-of-war. With a gallant bow, he handed her sister a single pink sweetheart rose. “For you, Chloe. A perfect flower for a perfect woman.”
“Oh, I see. Thank you, Harry. It’s… lovely. Please, come in. I didn’t hear the doorbell.” She shot Cat an accusatory stare. “I was busy getting our dinner ready.”
“I can see that. You have a touch of”—Harry leaned in, wiping away the strategically placed white powder—“flour on your cheek. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble on my account.”
Her sister was too much, Cat thought with a mental eye roll. Chloe wore a black apron—with a pink sparkly crown above the word Diva (fitting)—over a flirty pink dress.
She gave Cat a zip-it look as Harry toed off his loafers. Probably worried Cat would spill her secret that the gourmet shop did indeed do takeout. She wouldn’t, of course. Though, admittedly, she was tempted to.
Chloe led Harry to the glass dining room table decorated with a fall-themed table setting that was left over from last week’s Thanksgiving dinner. It had been depressing with just the two of them to celebrate the holiday. Cat had cheered herself up with the knowledge she’d at least be home for Christmas this year.
Gesturing for Harry to take a seat, Chloe said, “No trouble at all. I love to cook. I made my favorite, lobster bisque.”
Harry glanced from the two place settings to Cat. “Aren’t you joining us?”
“No, she has work to do.” Chloe waved her fingers at Cat. “You can grab a bowl and have it in your room.”
“Please join us. I insist.”
Because her sister was ticking her off, Cat said, “Sure. Don’t mind if I do. I’ll just put these in water.” She smiled. He smiled back at her and winked. Her heart flip-flopped at the warmth in his eyes. She looked down at her chest as she walked through to the kitchen. Flip-flopping hearts were not a good sign. Maybe she should eat in her room after all.
Her sister followed her. “I don’t want you to eat with us. Harry and I have things to discuss. Make up some excuse,” Chloe whispered.
Reaching in a cupboard for a crystal vase, Cat glanced over her shoulder and said, “No.”
She didn’t know what had gotten into her. Typically, she acquiesced to her sister’s every demand, but already today she’d refused her three times. No doubt their relationship would suffer further. Right now, she could barely bring herself to care. But she would, and for that reason, she’d eat, make polite small talk, then get back to work.
“No… no? Really, Kit Kat, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” Her sister drew back, her eyes widening. “You have a crush on Harry. I should have recognized the signs.” Chloe placed her fingers on her mouth, giving a pitying shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Kit Kat. You can hardly expect him to be interested in you when I… He’s just being polite, surely you see that.”
She knew what Chloe had been about to say. How could he be interested in Cat when he had America’s sweetheart throwing herself at his feet? Of course her sister was right. Cat ignored the pinch of what could only be embarrassment. For the space of a heartbeat, when he’d given her the flowers, she’d wondered if he was interested in her. “I’m not interested in Harry or anyone else.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again. Not after what Michael did to you.”
Cat chanced a glance at Harry, who appeared more interested in his phone than what was going on in the kitchen. But she couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been listening intently to their conversation. Once again, she was struck by the thought there was more to Lord Harry Halstead than met the eye. “Keep it down, Chloe.”
“All right. Help me serve the soup.”
Twenty minutes into the meal, Cat discovered she was right. There was more to Harry. He was neither as stuffy nor snotty as she’d first suspected. He was interesting and had a wonderful self-deprecating humor that she appreciated. Chloe didn’t. She took him to task for making fun of his title and the class system in England.
And if the sullen look on her sister’s face was anything to go by, she didn’t like the new direction the conversation had taken, either. They’d been talking about downhill skiing for the last five minutes. “Bear Valley’s okay, but it can’t compete with the slopes in Colorado,” Cat said.
Harry leaned back in his chair. “Have you tried heli-skiing?”
“Yes.” Cat nodded, wiping her mouth with the napkin. “It’s incredible. Nothing like it. Boarding, too.” But what was more incredible was what his deep voice and that accent of his were doing to her. She’d happily listen to him read a phone book for hours on end. Why it had had the opposite effect on her this morning, she didn’t know.
“Really? I’ve only tried heli-skiing once. You should—”
Her sister touched his arm, interrupting him. “Harry, I hav
e some wonderful news.”
He drew his intent blue gaze from Cat and smiled at Chloe. “Very rude of us for excluding you from the conversation, my dear. Please, tell us your news.”
Yes, Harry wasn’t what he seemed. She wondered if her sister noticed the hint of sarcasm in his voice. Ah, it appears that she did. Cat’s earlier explanation must have sunk in.
Chloe’s brow puckered. “I wasn’t—” she began, then rubbed her forehead, because God forbid she’d get a line. “I just thought you’d be interested to know that I’ve contacted the head writer, and he’s going to consider killing off George. Isn’t that the best news?”
“No,” both Cat and Harry said at almost the same time. They looked at each other for a beat, then Harry said to her sister, “Chloe, no matter what Estelle says, I’m not interested in anything more than a short-term role.”
“But I thought…”
He patted her sister’s hand. “Yes, I know what you thought. But I’m not about to get George tossed on a whim. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s been with the show from the beginning.”
“I assure you, it’s not a whim, Harry,” her sister said tightly.
Harry’s defense of George elevated him further in Cat’s estimation. She felt sorry for George. Sure he’d been off his game, but hadn’t they all been off their game at one time or another? “Harry’s right, Chloe. The writers just have to bump up George’s story line.”
“Be quiet, Kit Kat. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Chloe pushed back from the table. “If it’s not too much to ask, you can do the cleanup. Harry and I have a scene to go over.”
“I’ll give you a hand, Cat,” Harry said as he picked up his plate and stood.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She reached across the table and took the plate from him, the tips of her fingers brushing his as she did. She wasn’t prepared for the electrical charge from that brief touch. She’d touched a heck of a lot more than the tips of his fingers this morning and didn’t have the same reaction. Her girl parts objected. Okay, so obviously she’d reacted, but this was different. A worrisome different.
As Cat rinsed off the dishes, she did her best to ignore Harry and Chloe sitting thigh-to-thigh on the sectional across the room. She didn’t like the small, telling clench in her stomach. Yes, Harry was incredibly hot, his accent amazing, and he was nice, kind even, but she wasn’t attracted to him. Not in that way. She thought guys who made a living pretending to be someone else were sort of weird.
She hummed to drown out their voices as they read the script. A love scene, from the sounds of it. She pushed the lever to increase the water pressure and rinsed the bowl, then turned to put it in the dishwasher. Her gaze was unconsciously drawn to the now-quiet couple. They were locked in a passionate embrace. Cat gasped as the bowl slipped from her fingers. She caught it at the same time she looked up to see Harry’s eyes on her.
Chapter Six
Obviously Cat’s return visit to his lordship’s Instagram account last night had done the trick. She didn’t have a single lustful thought or jealous twinge as she watched Harry and Chloe make out in the Harts’ richly appointed living room. Well, she hadn’t until Harry wrapped Chloe’s long hair around his fist to draw her sister’s head back.
Cat went up on her tiptoes and leaned to the right. Oh yeah, that was… hot. She caught herself raising a hand to fan herself and cast a furtive glance to her left and right. Okay, she was good; no one was paying any attention to her.
And surely there was no harm in one small, lustful thought. Any woman with eyes in her head and a functioning libido would be thinking the same thing. Take me, please, Har… Rand. Now, on the floor, on the… Dammit. She drew her phone from her jeans pocket and once again pulled up Harry’s Instagram account. It didn’t work. She kept picturing herself in place of the other women.
What she needed was some distance, a breath of fresh air. But just as she was weighing the pros and cons of taking a break—her sister’s safety in the cons, her wavering determination to keep her distance from Harry in the pros—she heard a whizzing sound from behind her and glanced back. A heavy equipment boom was headed directly for her. She dropped to the concrete floor and covered her head in case it fell. It didn’t.
Oh, God, Chloe. Cat lifted her head, opening her mouth to yell a warning. She was too late, but Harry saw the boom hurtling toward them and dove out of its way with Chloe in his arms. Landing on the oriental carpet, he rolled them toward the cameras, his body lying protectively over her sister’s. The boom crashed into the wall and fell. If Harry had chosen the opposite direction, they’d be buried under the heavy piece of equipment.
Cat’s arms and legs felt like rubber, and it took a moment for her to get to her feet. With the speed and trajectory of the boom, her sister would have taken a crippling blow to the back of her neck. She could have died, and that was on Cat. She needed to find out who was behind the “accidents,” and she needed to find out now.
She scanned the faces of the cast and crew, looking for something, anything that would give them away. George crouched beside Harry, who held her pale and sobbing sister in his arms. Dame Alexander joined them, looking as distraught as Chloe. Cat could hear Harry’s deep voice as he comforted her sister. He appeared to be doing a better job at calming Chloe than Cat or her fake pills had ever done. Good. Because as long as her sister was safe and in capable hands, Cat could get to work.
She focused once again on George. He got to Chloe too quickly and from the opposite side. Unless he had a partner, it couldn’t have been him. And he appeared visibly shaken, furious when he looked in the direction from which the boom had come. Then again, he was an actor. Continuing to search the faces of the cast and crew now surrounding the couple on the ground, she saw Molly standing outside the circle. As though she sensed Cat’s attention, the actress looked back, frowned, then turned away.
Retrieving her cell from where it had fallen on the floor, Cat made a note of Molly’s and George’s reactions on her phone while she walked toward Sam, the boom operator. The set and crew managers were already there, as was Phil. Sam appeared agitated, spearing his fingers through his shaggy, blond hair. Surfer dude all the way, the guy was usually cool and laid-back. Half the time, he appeared to be in his own world. Stoned? Cat wondered. She needed to take a closer look at Sam.
“I’m telling you, I did an equipment check this morning. Everything was good, man,” Sam said.
The four men turned to Cat as she approached. She had to be careful not to alert them or anyone else to her suspicions. But she wanted answers. “Any idea what happened?” she asked, paying close attention to their body language, watching for signs of guilt.
Phil rested a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet. But we’ll get to the bottom of this, Cat.”
“Second-rate equipment is the problem. Half this stuff hasn’t been upgraded since the show first aired ten years ago,” the set manager said.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you, man. No one’s listening to me. I’ve got two boom mics and two cameras down.”
“All right, Sam. We’ll wrap up for the day, and I want every piece of equipment rechecked, with two of you signing off on it,” Phil said.
“So we have to miss the party because of this? Geez, how many times do I have to tell you it was an accident.” They were celebrating Phil’s sixtieth birthday at the Castaway restaurant that night.
But no matter what Sam said, this wasn’t an accident. She searched his tanned face, and he avoided meeting her eyes. Something to hide, or did he feel bad the accident had happened on his watch?
Ty rushed to her side. “Are you all right? That thing nearly took off your head.”
He’d seen it happen. She shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing got past Ty. She needed another pair of eyes and ears on the set. Her gut said she could trust Ty. Deep down she knew he’d never put her in danger. But she’d screwed up so bad with Michael that she hadn’t trusted her instincts in a while. And with her
sister’s life on the line… She glanced at Chloe. Cat had to take the risk.
“I’m good, but I could use a glass of water.” Taking Ty’s hand, she moved to walk away.
Phil snagged her by the arm. “Cat, are you sure you’re all right? I didn’t realize—”
“I’m fine, Phil. Honest,” she added when he gave her a concerned look.
“All right. You’re coming to the party tonight, I hope.”
Chloe hadn’t mentioned that she’d been invited. But with the latest attempt on her sister’s life, Cat wasn’t leaving her side. “Wouldn’t miss it.” She nodded at the other men, then led Ty away. Once they were out of earshot, she released his hand and whispered, “Okay, now tell me exactly what you saw?”
“Well, the…” His eyes widened behind his red-framed glasses. “You don’t think it was an accident. Oh my God!” He pressed his hands to his chest. “Is someone trying to hurt you?”
“Keep your voice down. Not me; Chloe.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “As long as it’s not you.”
She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Ty, I’m serious. I need your help, and you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Got it?”
“Got it.” He drew his thumb and forefinger across his lips, then his eyes lit up. “Oh my God, you want me to help you on a case. A real-life investigation with killers and everything. This is so totally rad. I can’t wait to tell—” He rolled his eyes. “Not now, after we solve the case. So who am I, Sherlock or Holmes?”
She was beginning to think she’d made a big mistake. Ty’s eyebrows shot up as he looked past her. “Uh-oh, Tall, Dark, and A Hundred Times of Pure Gorgeousness is not looking happy. And all that smoldering unhappiness is directed at you.” He sighed. “I wish he’d look at me like that.”
“What are you talking…” She trailed off when she turned her head and met Harry’s penetrating stare.
His long, elegant stride brought him quickly to their side. “Sorry to interrupt your tête-à-tête, but as Chloe only moments ago narrowly avoided being decapitated, I think she could use her sister,” he clipped out.
