by Leanne Banks
Katie swallowed her impatience. “Would you feel better if I looked for her too?”
“Well, at least Chantal knows you,” Wilhemina said.
“Okay. Promise me you won't come outside looking for the cat.”
Wilhemina paused a full five seconds. “I promise I won't go outside to look for Chantal.”
Something about Ivan's daughter's tone bothered Katie, “You're sure?”
“I promise I won't go outside to look for Chantal,” she repeated.
“Okay” Katie said, and turned toward her room.
“Katie?”
She turned around to look at Wilhemina. “Yes?”
Wilhemina laced and unlaced her fingers together. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Katie felt a tug at Wilhemina's solemn gratitude. She'd known Wilhemina was attached to Chantal, but she hadn't known she was that attached. Impulsively, she stepped forward and embraced her. “It's nothing,” she said. “Don't worry. Mr. Wingate and I can handle this.”
In a couple of moments, Katie pulled on a rain slicker, grabbed a flashlight, opened a can of tuna, and headed out the door. The rain was pouring.
“Here, kitty-kitty,” she called, waving the can of tuna as she meandered through the backyard. “Here, Chantal.” She repeated the calls and continued walking between the trees farther away from the house. “Here, kitty-kitty—” She broke off when a loud thump sounded behind her.
Her heart stopped at the black figure, until she realized it was Michael. “You scared me to death. Do you always have to sneak up behind people?”
“I wasn't sneaking,” he said, his dark hair glistening from the rain. “I was looking in the tree for the cat. Do you really think that animal will answer to kitty-kitty?”
“What am I supposed to say? Bonsoir, Chantal!” She shrugged. “I need to let her know I'm out here. I was hoping she would respond to the combination of my voice and the smell of tuna. Did you have a better idea?”
He sighed in disgust. “This isn't my area of expertise. I can't believe I'm wasting my time looking for a cat.”
“You can go back inside,” she suggested, thinking she would prefer he left if all he was going to do was complain.
“No,” he said, his expression dark. “I'm here for the duration. I'm not just out in the rain looking for a pussy. I'm looking for the ugliest pussy in the world.”
Katie locked gazes with him for a long oddly-charged moment, then looked away. She wasn't going to touch that pussy comment with a ten-foot pole. She continued to call for Chantal and Michael climbed up at least half a dozen trees. They circled the perimeter of the yard another time.
“This isn't looking good. I think we may need to try the Hathaways,” she said, glancing at the stone wall separating the two estates.
He nodded. “Okay. Put your foot here.” He laced his fingers together and cupped them like a stirrup.
Surprised and strangely touched by the offer, Katie just stared at him. “I-uh-I-don't—”
“Would you move it? I'm not getting any younger.”
She blinked, the sliver of a tender feeling disappearing in an instant. Stepping into his hands, she grabbed on to the wall and hitched herself up to the top, successfully saving the can of tuna. She slung her legs over. Before she had a chance to slide down, Michael appeared on the other side of the wall, his hands outstretched.
She immediately fell on top of him.
He made an oof sound and fell to the ground, protecting her from the fall. His body was hard beneath hers, his arms strongly supporting her. She couldn't remember a time when anyone had broken her fall. Her face suspended above his, she stared into his dark eyes and felt an odd sensation in her stomach. The scent of rain and man swam in her head.
“Your hair,” he murmured.
Katie blinked, noticing that her hair had come loose from the tight knot. She felt it damply clinging to her cheeks. Her glasses were missing. They must have flown off her head.
Swearing, he shook his head and lifted a finger to one of the strands. “Why in hell do you look better wet in the rain than perfectly dry in the daylight?” His gaze demanded an answer. “Why do you deliberately make yourself look plain?”
“It's my job to look plain.” Pushing aside the jittery breathless feeling inside her, she pulled back and gingerly stood.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if I want to keep my job, I need to be nearly invisible, nonthreatening to Ivan's wives, completely—”
“Asexual,” Michael finished for her.
The term jarred her, especially after she'd just felt the strength of his body cushioning hers. She gave a slow nod. “I was going to say ordinary, but I think you get the picture.”
“You're so afraid of losing your job that you make yourself look ugly to keep it?” he asked in disbelief.
“Ugly is a harsh term,” she said, her ego smarting. She began to look for her glasses.
“That wasn't the point,” he said. “I meant you must be damn scared of losing your job to go to such lengths.”
She didn't like his description damn scared. It hit too close to the truth. She felt his hand on her arm and tensed, rounding on him. “I have a damn good reason to keep my job. That's all you need to know.”
He frowned, lifting his hand to her hair. He pulled something from it and lifted it to his nose. “Sugar? You spent your day off making something with sugar? You are one weird cookie.”
She lifted her lips in a forced smile. “Exactly. You have me perfectly pegged. I'm weird, strange, and asexual. I give new meaning to the word plain. We can look for the cat now. The mystery of Katie Collins is solved. All your questions are answered.”
“Not by a long shot,” he muttered, still gazing at her in a way that made her feel like she was Chantal and he was the hunter. “But you're right about the cat. Where's the sandbox?”
An hour later, they temporarily gave up and stomped back to the side door that led to the kitchen. Katie ditched her shoes and slicker in the mudroom. When she saw Michael pull off his shirt, she quickly skedaddled down the hallway to the kitchen, hearing her mother's sultry singsong voice in her head. Nothing wrong with looking, Priss. And he's definitely worth looking at.
“The way I calculate it, Mama, the earliest I can think about sex is in seven years. Jeremy won't graduate until then,” she muttered under her breath and was immediately filled with the sense that she had just shocked her mother into complete silence. Considering the fact that not even death had silenced her, that was pretty amazing.
Making a face, Katie dumped what remained of the tuna into the garbage and washed her hands. As she turned, she caught sight of a note propped on the table.
Katie, I found Chantal hiding under the sofa. I would have told you, but you made me promise to stay inside, Sorry for your trouble. Thank you again for everything. Gone to bed. Sweet dreams, Wilhemina.
“What is it?” Michael said from just behind her, nearly making her jump.
Katie's heart pounded at his closeness, and her eyes really wanted to look at him, but she kept them trained on the note. “We're in luck. Wilhemina found the cat under the sofa.”
“Figures,” Michael said. “Maybe I can get a barrier bracelet to use for that animal's collar. Come to think of it, it might be a good idea for Wilhemina too.”
Katie frowned at him. “Wilhemina doesn't wear a collar and she's not a prisoner.”
He met her gaze and Katie did her level best to keep her focus above his impressive chest. “She wouldn't have to wear a collar. She could wear it like a watch.”
“That's inhumane.”
“Not if she were kidnapped,” Michael said. Katie felt a chill.
“The flip side of having more money than God,” Michael said. “That's why the security business is booming.”
“Good for you I guess,” Katie said, her gaze slipping and taking in the beautiful strength of his bare chest.
He shrugged. “Yeah. And I bet y
ou're thinking capitalistic guys like me are taking advantage of wealthy victims like Wilhemina.”
She supposed she could allow him to think that. After all, she didn't pretend to care what Michael's opinion of her was, and he obviously didn't care what she thought of him. The notion bothered her, though, for some reason she couldn't define. “Actually I was thinking that guys like you give Wilhemina a decent shot at not becoming a victim.’’
A glint of surprise flickered in his eyes and he gave her an assessing glance that felt as if he were poking beneath the surface, searching for her secret. His gaze made her nervous. “I've had a long day. I'm going to bed. Good night,” she said and headed out of the kitchen.
“Katie, why didn't you bring whatever you baked today here for the rest of us?” Michael asked.
She tensed, but at the same time fought a ripple of amusement. “Because I only give my sweets to my sweethearts,” she answered, shocking herself with how close that comment was to something her mother would have said. She bit her tongue and raced up the stairs. She didn't know if her mother's spirit was attempting to inhabit her body or Michael Wingate's effect on her body was causing her to forget to be invisible, but she needed to refresh her memory lickety-split.
By noon the following day, Katie began to feel uneasy. Wilhemina hadn't appeared from her room even for breakfast, and to Katie's knowledge, Wilhemina never missed breakfast unless, she was very ill.
Concerned, Katie knocked gently on Ivan's daughter's door. No answer. She called Wilhemina's name several times, but again there was no answer. Fighting a trickle of panic, she discreetly got the key to Wilhemina's suite from the housekeeper and opened the door. The lounging area of the suite was empty. No surprise there, Katie thought, and tapped on the door to Wilhemina's bedroom. No answer. Her concern heightening to outright worry, Katie entered the bedroom and scanned the room in an instant.
Wilhemina wasn't sick or unconscious in her bed.
Wilhemina wasn't there at all.
As if he were peering from a jail cell, Michael looked out from his bedroom window at the Rasmussens’ house. He was on hold with the vendor who manufactured barrier bracelets. He'd be damned if he was going to tramp through the rain looking for that damn cat again.
His door burst open and Katie Collins appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes huge with panic. She waved a piece of paper. “Omigod, she's gone! We've got to find her. She's run away.”
“Who? The cat?” he asked, refusing to believe the cat had written a note.
“No. Wilhemina,” she wailed, rushing toward him.
“Wilhemina,” he repeated. The vendor returned on the line, but Michael disconnected the call. He could feel his blood pressure rising. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
“I thought Wilhemina was sleeping in this morning, but she wasn't. When I checked her bedroom, she was gone and she left a note. She has run away,” she said, looking as if she were going to hyperventilate.
Michael saw his juicy contract with Ivan slipping from his grasp and shook his head. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't “Where did she go?”
“I don't know,” Katie said, thrusting the note at him. “She didn't say. But Michael, this woman is helpless. To my knowledge, she's never made travel arrangements for herself let alone traveled without a companion. Turning her loose out there is like—” She shook her head. “Anything could happen to her. Anything…”
Michael studied the note while Katie continued to rail. Katie, please forgive me, but I must leave. You and I both know I won't find the right man for me in Philadelphia. I just don't fit in and I never will. But your wonderful story has inspired me. It's time for me to venture out on my own to find my future and I have you to thank for giving me the courage. Please don't try to find me. I'll be back before Daddy returns, I promise. Love and kisses, Wilhemina.
Michael stared at Katie. “'What the hell kind of story did you tell her?” he demanded, feeling his head throb with the beginning of a monster migraine. “How did you give her courage? And why did you plant this insane idea in her head?”
“I didn't mean to give her that kind of courage, “Katie retorted, her face regaining some color. “You could tell the poor woman felt lower than snail spit and I just wanted to make her feel better. And I absolutely did not suggest that she go tearing off on her own to find her future.”
Michael sucked in a breath and counted to three. That was all he could manage. “Tell me the story you told her,” he said in a deadly calm voice.
She pulled back slightly and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It was just a little fairy tale my mother used to tell me when I was a little girl.”
“And it went like…”
Clearly reluctant, she pursed her lips. “It was about a lonely little girl who lived in a castle who wished on a star every night.”
“And?” Michael prompted, not liking where this was headed.
“And the little girl traveled to a far-off land and had many adventures and found an injured knight on the side of the road,” she said in one breath, then paused with a wary expression in her eyes. “And the knight and the girl—”
“Oh, no. Let me finish. The knight and the girl fell in love and lived happily ever after.”
“Well, those weren't the exact words,” she said.
“But the sappy sentiment was the same.” He shook his head, a bitter taste filling his mouth at the memory of his own disastrous engagement. His fiancée had been one more person who taught him to rely on himself. “I can't believe you filled her head with these crazy ideas.”
“It was either that or she was going to eat two packages of cookies and sink into a funk,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Besides, I told her the story while she was drinking margaritas, so I figured she wouldn't remember much of it.”
“You women and this white knight romance forever crap. Those fairy tales should come with warning labels.”
She looked down her nose at him. “Well, I can see why you wouldn't appreciate the concepts of white knight and romance since you're clearly so far removed from chivalry or anything remotely romantic,” she retorted.
He heard the drawl in her voice again and tilted his head to one side trying to place it.
“But that's beside the point. We have to find Wilhemina,” she said. “And Chantal.”
Michael felt the throbbing in his head kick up another notch in intensity. “Oh, hell,” he muttered, thinking he didn't know which would upset Ivan more, a missing daughter or a missing cat. Michael just knew his prognosis for getting Ivan's account was in grave danger, to say nothing of Wilhemina's safety. His gut churned at the image of naive, defenseless Wilhemina on a wild goose chase to find a white knight. She was more likely to find the Hope Diamond in the neighbor's sandbox. And that damned cat. “Tell me she didn't take the cat.”
Katie met his gaze dead-on. “She took the cat.”
“God will forgive you for bending the commandments in order to earn the money to pay the light bill and feed children.”
—SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM
Chapter 6
Michael stared at his computer monitor impatiently as the information appeared on his screen. “Bingo,” he said. “She bought a ticket on American Airlines for Dallas. She departed late last night,” he said, shaking his head in disgust that he'd fallen for Wilhemina's ploy. He hadn't believed Ivan's daughter was capable of deceit. Big mistake. Michael should have remembered that he hadn't met a woman incapable of some measure of deceit.
“She has already rented a car. Texas,” he said, scratching his head. “Why in the world would she choose Tex—” He broke off, realization hitting him. He spun around in his chair and stared at Katie. “Your accent. You're from Texas. Are you sure you didn't tell Wilhemina something that would make her choose Texas?”
Katie nearly squirmed, if she'd been the type of woman to squirm. Instead, she looked down her nose at him. “You know all you need to know and I
don't have an accent.”
Michael sprang from his seat and latched his hand around her wrist. “Oh, no. You practically gave that poor woman a map for her own destruction and now I've got to find her. You'd damn well better cough up the rest of that little fairy tale you told such as suggested locations for finding a white knight on the side of the road.”
“There's nothing else to the story,” she said. “I told Wilhemina that my mother was from Texas, and Wilhemina decided the knight in the story was a cowboy knight. How did you find out about the airline ticket so quickly?” she asked and looked down at his hand closed around her wrist. “You can let go of me now.”
Michael looked into her eyes and glimpsed curious contradictions. Her voice was cold, but her skin was warm, her pulse fast, and her eyes glinted with uneasiness and something darker and more basic. Something about her reminded him of the ocean—different colors, different depths.
He shook his head. Where the hell had that thought come from? His migraine must have been affecting the blood flow to his brain. He released her wrist. “I'm going to Texas.”
She nodded. “When do we need to be ready?”
Michael immediately rejected the idea. “What do you mean we, Tonto? I can handle this on my own.”
“I'm not questioning your detective abilities, but I think Wilhemina trusts me more than she trusts you.”
“She didn't tell you she was running away.”
She barely batted an eye. “The reason you need me is because you don't understand the appeal of the story I told her.”
“And you believe in that fairy tale?” he asked, unable to keep the cynicism from his voice.
“I didn't say I believe in it. But I understand its appeal and I think I understand Wilhemina a little better than you do. Besides, it may be your job to guard her, but it's my job to be her companion. You were hired to do what you do well. I was hired to do what I do well.”
Michael fought a ripple of impatience as he pulled a carry-on from his closet. There was some truth to what she was saying. He hadn't spent the last few years working on his people skills and he wasn't looking forward to dealing with a flighty emotional heiress. “You can accompany her when I bring her back to Philadelphia,” he said, reluctant to have Katie along.
