Not Quite Mine (Not Quite series)

by Catherine Bybee

  He spoke as if she were a child and it was starting to piss her off. The lack of sleep the night before wasn’t helping either. “Then give me a budget.”

  His eyes narrowed and his pissed look slid into amusement. “You’re serious.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Dean’s head started to nod, slowly at first, then faster. “OK…I’ll do that on one condition.”

  A lock of hair had come loose under the stupid hard hat so Katie thrust it behind her ear in frustration. She knew she looked ridiculous. And tired. Lord, just arguing with him was wearing her out.

  “Well don’t keep me in suspense. Name your price, cowboy.”

  He lifted his index finger and spoke slower. “I’ll give you a budget and you will not argue, debate, or ask for more. I’ll give you a workable budget any experienced designer would make work.”

  “But I’m not experienced—”

  “Ah! No excuses! Do we have a deal?”

  “And if that doesn’t work for me?”

  “Then you walk away now. Go home to Texas and take your niches with you.”

  She tilted her head and took him in. His determined chin and eyes set in stone made her wonder…made her question exactly why he didn’t want her around. Then she finally noticed the stripe on his hat. Maybe he didn’t like the distraction or the hazing he was obviously getting with the men.

  Or maybe it was her.

  “Deal.” She shoved her hand in front of him and waited.

  He hesitated, then his warm palm met hers. Sparks radiated up her arm and raised gooseflesh despite the dry heat filling the room.

  She let go quickly and hoped he didn’t see her skin flush. “I expect my budget by the end of the day.”

  Dean mumbled something under his breath as she walked away. “Oh, and, Dean?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Nice hat.”

  Chapter Eight

  Patrick Nelson’s appearance somehow met, if not exceeded, every preconceived thought in Katelyn’s brain about how a private eye should look. He had to be six two, nearly as tall as Dean. He looked thicker than a longhorn stud in a pen. Roped muscle filled in his black short jacket under a buttoned-up dress shirt. This man probably owned one suit and wore it only when he had to.

  He screamed retired marine or ex-cop. His dark hair was peppered with gray and his brown eyes had a way of looking through you. If he were fifteen years younger, Katie might have found him attractive. Actually, he was attractive, but she wasn’t interested.

  She met with him in her room to avoid anyone overhearing their conversation.

  They discussed Savannah’s sudden appearance in Katelyn’s life in depth. They were on a second cup of coffee before he turned the conversation toward her personal life.

  He leaned back on the sofa of the penthouse family suite and wrote notes in the small pad of paper he’d pulled from his pocket.

  “Who are you dating?”

  The question struck her as strange and she hesitated to answer it. “Excuse me?”

  “Dating…sleeping with? Who do you spend your time with on a romantic level?”

  “I’m not sure what that has to do with Savannah ending up on my doorstep.”

  “Everything about you is relevant as to why this infant ended up in your arms. Someone knew things about you they couldn’t have known by reading the papers.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “You were on the third page of a Houston tabloid three weeks ago on the arm of a blond in a bar.”

  “I was?” She didn’t know the picture he was referring to. She’d stopped concerning herself with the paparazzi pictures over a year and a half earlier. About the time she and Dean stopped seeing each other.

  “You were. Club Zen I think it was.”

  Oh, that’s right. She remembered going to meet a friend who had broken up with her latest. They managed to get through a round before several acquaintances surrounded them. Katelyn had a vague memory of someone taking pictures but didn’t think more about it. “I know the club but couldn’t tell you a thing about the picture. I wasn’t involved with anyone in that crowd that night.”

  “The magazine said you were lovers.”

  “The magazine doesn’t fact check.”

  Patrick made a note and continued.

  “There’s no one in your life?”

  “No.”

  “Who are your girlfriends? Who do you confide in?”

  Monica’s name came to her lips with ease. “I already told you that Monica was with me the night Savannah showed up.” Katie gave him a couple of names of people she considered close friends.

  “Do they know about Savannah?”

  “No. Only you and Monica know about her.”

  He scratched his chin in thought. “You wouldn’t be the first celebrity, or woman of means, who has had a child dumped on their doorstep. Did it occur to you that this might not be personal?”

  “Yeah. But it doesn’t change anything. I still don’t know who the mom is, and I won’t be comfortable until I know Savannah is legally mine. I’m hiring you to find the mom and do the necessary check on this paperwork.”

  A corner of Patrick’s mouth quivered. “I’ll find the mom. Not to worry. The speed in which I do it will be the question. I’m going to need access to your suite in Houston.”

  She nodded. “No one can know you’re a private investigator.”

  “Hence the word ‘private.’” He wrote something on a separate sheet of paper and tore it off to give it to her.

  It was a name. “Who is Ben Sanderson?”

  “Me. That’s the name you’ll give the hotel. I’ll tap into the surveillance and see what I can find.”

  “What should I tell them about you?”

  “Tell them I’m your lover, friend…makes no difference to me. Just make it easy for me to get into the hotel and keep the staff from poking around. I’ll do the rest.”

  She could do that. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d told the staff to look the other way to a man’s presence.

  A loud knock sounded from the door to her suite. She looked at the clock on the wall and thought maybe room service was early. She stood and started for the door. “I ordered dinner. They’re early. I can get you something if you like.”

  Patrick stood and tucked the notebook into his jacket pocket. “I have enough for now. I’ll call you in a couple of days to update you on my progress.”

  He walked behind her as she opened the door.

  The smile she’d placed on her lips to great the hotel staff slid the moment the door opened.

  “Dean?” The desire to shut the door and keep him from seeing Patrick made her arm shake. “What are you doing here?” And how had he managed to get up the elevator without a call from the receptionist letting her know he was there?

  “You said you wanted a—” His words drifted off as his gaze fell behind her.

  Katelyn found her smile and turned toward the man she’d hired. She sent a quick prayer to anyone listening that Patrick was as good as his résumé said. He needed to slip from the room without Dean questioning who he was.

  Patrick moved a little closer to the door and placed a hand on her arm. “He doesn’t look like room service.”

  “He’s not.” Katie twisted toward Dean and felt the air chill.

  Dean stepped into the suite, his eyes narrowed to daggers. “Dean Prescott,” Dean said, waiting for Patrick to say something.

  Patrick lifted a hand for Dean to shake. “Ben Sanderson.”

  “Dean and I work together at my brother’s hotel,” she explained.

  Patrick nodded and finished shaking Dean’s hand.

  “The one under construction?”

  “That’s right.”

  Patrick nodded and turned his attention on Katie. “I’ll call you. Dean, a pleasure.”

  And then he disappeared leaving Katie to explain his presence.

  Yet as she was clo
sing the door behind Patrick, she realized she didn’t owe Dean anything. He was the one showing up unexpectedly. The best offense was to put Dean on the defense. Or distract him. Good thing Katie knew how to do both.

  “How did you get up here?”

  Dean stepped farther into the suite and looked around as if he were trying to figure out what she’d been doing. “I used to sneak up to your suite all the time.”

  Like she could ever forget. “There’s no need to sneak any longer.”

  “So who was that?”

  Avoidance…she would have earned A’s in school if there had been a class. “Do you have my budget?”

  “Is his name really Ben?”

  She froze.

  “Who names their kid Ben?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and let Dean make his own conclusions about Patrick. “What’s the matter, Dean, jealous?”

  He turned on her like a snake coiled up and ready to strike. Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips. “Jack asked me to keep an eye on you while he’s away.”

  “Jack isn’t in charge of me, Dean. We both know that.”

  “You need someone watching out for you.”

  “Now why do you think that?”

  He looked up and down her body with a quick scan. “You look like you’ve not slept in days and, if I had to guess, you’ve lost weight since the wedding. And you don’t have any to spare, darlin’.”

  She despised the fact he read her so well.

  “Do you have my budget or what?”

  Before he could answer, someone knocked on the door again.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Who is it now?” She swung on the door and ripped it open. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Morrison. I was told to bring your dinner. I can come back.”

  Good God, she was tired. Snapping at the staff wasn’t how she’d been raised and she was instantly sorry. Poor Manny looked like he wanted to crawl away. “Oh, no. Please forgive me. It’s been a long day. Bring it in here.” She opened the door wider and let the young waiter wheel the cart filled with silver-domed dishes into the room.

  “Would you like it in the dining room?”

  “That would be fine, Manny.” She’d grown used to eating over the sink at Monica’s, and shoving bites in between her shower and changing clothes at the hotel. This was the night Monica was going to stay with Savannah so Katie could convince the hotel staff that she actually slept there once in a while. It was all a ruse to keep anyone from asking questions about where she spent her nights.

  Maybe it was a good thing Dean had shown up when he did. Him finding her at the hotel would ease any suspicions. Or so she hoped.

  She walked around Dean, found her purse, and waited for the waiter to finish. He raised the lid off the salad she’d ordered and looked at her. “Shall I open these now?”

  “That won’t be—”

  “Salad? That’s all you’re eating?” Dean shoved in behind her and glared at her dinner.

  “I like salad.”

  “So do rabbits. Gaylord always has Texas prime beef on the menu, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Dean shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. “How about two rib eyes, Manny, medium rare with baked potatoes filled with the works. We’ll start with the salad.”

  “I don’t remember inviting you to stay.”

  Manny kept moving his head back and forth, taking in their conversation.

  “And yet I’m not going until I’ve seen you eat and know you’re not going to fall over the next time you’re at work. It’s bad enough you defy gravity with those damn shoes. You don’t need to add a lack of nutrition making you weak.”

  She wanted to argue in the worst way but that took energy. The truth was, she could eat more than a salad and getting Dean to back off without a scene wouldn’t be easy. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could move him along.

  “Miss Morrison?”

  “Medium rare is fine with me,” she told Manny.

  “And a couple of beers,” Dean called after the waiter.

  Katie walked Manny out of the room and pressed ten dollars into his palm.

  Eat dinner. Placate Dean. Go to sleep. That was her plan.

  He wanted to ask. Lord knew it kept every ounce of his dignity not to question.

  Ben? Who the hell?

  Not to mention the man was far too old for Katie. Could be her father if Dean had to guess.

  OK, maybe that was going too far, but the man was older than her by at least ten years, if not more.

  Katie excused herself to her room and returned wearing a large pullover cotton shirt and Capri pants. Dean identified the outfit as “Katie casual,” the clothes she wore at the end of her day before she went to bed.

  Very few people saw her in these clothes and even fewer saw her out of them.

  The fact she changed while he was waiting for their steaks to arrive made him smile. At least they hadn’t lost that intimacy…not yet anyway.

  Dean let Manny back in a short time later and tipped the kid before he left.

  “I haven’t had a good steak since Texas. This smells amazing.”

  Katie pushed in, sat at the small dinette, and uncovered her plate. “I thought you liked to grill.”

  “When I’m camping. Haven’t done that in a while.” Dean sat across from her and removed the other lids over their food. A crush of pepper, garlic, and herbs arrested his senses as the aroma of the beef met his nose. His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  “Why haven’t you camped? You like camping.”

  Dean shrugged and placed a large dollop of butter on Katie’s potato before doing the same to his. “No time.”

  Katie cocked her head to the side.

  He picked up his fork and knife and started to dig into his steak. Katie sat motionless, poised as if waiting for him to say something.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  She didn’t buy his “no time” excuse but he didn’t want to make her privy to his thoughts.

  He waited until she filled her mouth with the first chunk of pure Angus beef before he asked. “So, who is Ben?”

  Her jaw hesitated midchew but she continued and swallowed before she picked up another bite on her fork.

  “A friend.”

  She didn’t meet his eyes. Her left eye twitched.

  “A lover?” Dammit! Why had those words escaped his tongue? He shouldn’t care, and wished he didn’t.

  Her cheeks grew red. Dean wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or anger that fueled her reaction.

  Instead of answering, Katie played with the butter on the edge of her fork before popping a bite of potato into her mouth.

  “What makes you think I owe you any explanation about who you find in my suite?”

  Now it was his time to squirm. He bit into his food, barely tasting the smoky flavor of the beef. She didn’t owe him anything. Not anymore. But damn, it killed him thinking of her with anyone other than him.

  “I’d like to think we’re still friends,” Dean said.

  Which was true.

  “Friends?” she asked. The question was innocent enough.

  “Yeah. We’ve known each other since we were both kids. Regardless of what has happened between us, we should be friends.”

  A corner of her mouth lifted as she chewed on another bite of her steak.

  A fine film of heat pearled into small beads of sweat on the back of Dean’s neck.

  “Girlfriends like details, Dean. Do you want details about Ben? Private details?” She drew out the word private and made him regret he’d asked.

  He dropped his fork and pulled hard from his beer.

  “Do you want to give me details about Maggie?”

  He lifted the beer again and finished it. The hell he would give her anything about Maggie. Maggie had called off t
heir wedding and Dean thought at the time he wouldn’t survive. Now he knew their union would have been a disaster. He’d met Maggie shortly after he and Katie had gone their separate ways. His emotions at the time were a jumbled, hot mess. He had been ready to move to the next phase in his life. A wife, children…a house with a white fucking picket fence.

  But then Katie called it off…wait, no, Maggie had called it off.

  Dean shook his head and opened the second beer.

  Although not knowing who Ben was to Katie burned a hole in his gut, Dean steered the conversation into safer waters. “I have your budget.”

  Katie sucked in her lower lip and dropped her gaze. “Which is?”

  He told her a number, knowing it was probably lower than what she expected. In reality, he knew budgets had a ten percent margin of error, usually ending up higher than expected. Considering she hadn’t done this type of work before, she would probably push that percentage close to twenty.

  Dean lifted his eyes to hers, expecting to see her temper.

  “Fine.”

  “No argument?”

  “I agreed not to argue.”

  “That never stopped you before.”

  “What can I say? It’s the new me.” She finished the last of her steak and placed her napkin on the table.

  Dean sat there and stared. New me? He supposed there was something new about her. The desire to work, which God knew was cutting edge in Katelyn’s world. He attributed her casual clothes to a product of their time together…their intimate time together. Knowing she felt at ease enough to dress down for him brought on a swell of warm comfort. The pretense of being perfectly polished all the time was what she did for others. Yet she hadn’t dressed down for Ben.

  He smiled. Working out in his mind that even if she and Ben were close, they weren’t as comfortable with each other as the two of them were.

  Dean finished his second beer and pushed his chair back. “I’m having the walls redone tomorrow morning. You might want to be around to consult with if you want it done your way.”

  “What time should I be there?”

  “Eight.”

  She rolled her head on her shoulders and tried to hide a yawn.

  “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said.