Cattitude (30 page)

The runner slammed into home.

Tory grabbed Phil’s shoulders. His arms
circled around her back, her legs folded around his hips, her
laughing face leaned into his. Then she was kissing him. And he was
kissing her back.

It was just a kiss, he told himself. A kiss
was just a—

Her tongue slid into his mouth, stopping his
thoughts. For this moment, all she could do was feel.

A kiss wasn’t just a kiss. A kiss was heaven
and hell combined.

The fire crackled to Max’s satisfaction. He
closed the screen and got up, brushing bits of bark from his knees.
Behind him, he heard Caroline entering the great room from the
kitchen.

“Hmmm, I love a fire.” She met him in the
middle of the room, a smile on her face. With her four-inch heels,
she looked straight into his eyes. “I brought some special wine.”
She pressed a half-filled wine glass into his hand. “To celebrate
my successful buying trip in Chicago.”

“I’m not really—”

“I know you like Merlot. I bought it just for
you. You’ve done so much for me. Buying a bottle of wine to share
with you is the least I can do.”

“I haven’t done anything.” He took the glass
and started to turn toward his chair. Her hand on his arm stopped
him. He hoped to hell she wasn’t going to thank him again. Throwing
a few bucks at Emery’s widow hadn’t hurt him. Caroline’s effusions
of gratitude made him feel like loosening his collar—and it was
already loose.

Not like Sorcha, who took everything he did
as her due. He couldn’t remember her thanking him once.

“Why don’t you sit on the sofa? I’ll get my
swatches and show you what I’ve chosen for the new furniture.” She
slanted her cool fingers over his lips, stopping any objections. “I
know you’re leaving soon, but this is still your home. You said
you’ll come back some day. When you do, I want you to love it. It’s
the least I can do to repay you for your generosity.”

He strode to the sofa. May as well do this.
Otherwise he’d just stew over Sorcha.

He watched Caroline leave the room, admiring
her tall, slender figure. She was beautiful, gracious, smart. He
admired her. He knew she admired him. He wasn’t blind or dense to
the little touches, the intimate smiles, the breathless laughter.
Only the knowledge that he was leaving had kept him from deepening
their relationship. He couldn’t sleep with her, then leave.

So why forget his scruples with Sorcha? She
was prickly, odd and obviously had psychological problems. She
refused to leave his home.

Even after last night.

He took a gulp of the wine.

God, last night. And what a night! He’d
thought their lovemaking had changed the situation, but it had
changed nothing. He needed to leave and she believed she needed to
stay.

Or did he need to leave?

He frowned and tried to follow that thought,
but it drifted away. It didn’t seem important anymore. Nothing
seemed important. He picked up the glass and took another gulp. Not
too bad.

By the time Caroline returned, he’d finished
the glass of Merlot and was starting to feel tired. But he
shouldn’t be tired. After making love with Sorcha last night, he’d
slept like a hibernating bear until a good hour past his normal
wake-up time.

“You drank your wine,” Caroline said, her
voice gleeful.

He nodded. He wanted to tell her it tasted
good. Make some of that wine talk she liked. It had a nice body and
was friendly, ha ha ha. But he decided not to. He was tired. So
tired. And his head felt as if it were filled with helium.

“I’m just gonna lay my head down for a
minute...”

As he slid sideways, he watched Caroline drop
her armload of swatches on the coffee table. Coffee table swatches,
he thought, and giggled.

Caroline smiled widely, as if she thought he
was funny too. He liked that better than her gratitude. No one
thought he was funny. Ted was the funny brother. He was the
responsible one who took care of everyone.

She put a pillow under his head and patted
his cheekbone.

Nice Caroline. Thoughtful Caroline. Gracious
Caroline.

“Go to sleep,” she said. “Don’t worry about
anything. I’m here.”

His eyes closed. He didn’t want Caroline. He
wanted Sorcha.

Sorcha, he cried silently, Sorcha.

Sorcha!

***

Katie kept looking out the door. She hadn’t
been able to do any homework since she returned from her last
class.

Where was the brat?

She went from room to room in the overlarge
house where no one lived but her and one small girl. She didn’t
count the few weeks a year when Gwen’s parents stopped off.
Usually, Gwen’s mother was calling her friends all over the world,
trying to see who they would visit next, while Gwen’s father went
to the golf courses, meeting with CEOs and bank presidents.

Katie wanted to be one of the CEOs. This job
was her key to the open doors that were closed to the average
University of Wisconsin graduate.

The brat was ruining everything for her. If
Gwen didn’t come back, Katie would get fired and Mr. Whitney would
never write her that glowing reference.

Gazing out the front window, she nibbled on
her fingernail, something she’d forced herself to stop doing years
ago. The sun was lowering. Gwen had been gone for nearly twelve
hours, although she might have returned during the day when Katie
went to her classes.

Perhaps going to her classes today had been a
mistake. Maybe she should have stayed home. Maybe she shouldn’t
have called Gwen’s school and said she was sick. But how was she to
know Gwen would be so stubborn? She had thought for sure Gwen would
return.

She went to the front door, swung it open and
strode onto the porch. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she
yelled, “Gwen! Come home, Gwen! I promise I won’t punish you.”

She dropped her hands and cocked her head.
Nothing.

A sick feeling dipped inside her stomach. If
she called the police, they would eventually call the school and
she might get into trouble for lying.

She lifted her hands again. “Gwen!” she
called, her voice sharper. “Gwen! Come home this minute!”

Again she listened. Again there was no
answer. She glowered at the smooth lawn, the lacy, perfectly placed
trees, the graying sky almost beautiful in its gloom.

Slowly, the corners of her lips tipped up.
The weather channel said it was supposed to get down to the low
thirties tonight. Above freezing, but close. If she didn’t panic
and call the police, everything would turn out just fine. Gwen
would give in and come back cold and hungry.

Where else did she have to go? She had no
friends.

Katie went inside the house. Let the stupid
girl suffer. Katie would be snug and warm, so what did she
care?

The phone rang, and she hurried to the
nearest one. Maybe Gwen was calling on her cell phone.

She picked up the phone and answered in a
monotone. She didn’t want Gwen to guess how grateful she was to
hear from her. The girl might get a swollen head.

“Is Gwen there?” a woman asked, the voice
young.

A cold finger touched Katie’s heart. “Who is
this?”

“Jewel Bernstein, Gwen’s lawyer.”

“The Whitneys’ lawyer is David Bernstein,”
Katie said, her heartbeat speeding.

“My father. I’m the third Bernstein of
Bernstein, Bernstein and Bernstein. I’ve been in contact with Gwen
for about ten months now.”

“No! I would’ve known.”

“Obviously you don’t. I believe you were
studying the first time I called. By the way, I applaud your
ambition. Since then, Gwen and I have been communicating via
e-mail. May I speak to her?”

Katie sank onto the armless ivory chair next
to the phone. “She can’t come to the phone right now.”

“She’s not in bed, is she?”

Katie glanced at the clock. A little after
seven. Too early for Gwen’s bedtime. “She’s taking a bath.”

“Get her out.”

“You can’t tell me—”

“Now.”

Katie’s grip tightened on the phone.

“You can’t put her on the phone,” the voice
continued smoothly, “because she isn’t there. Isn’t that
right?”

Katie’s eyes closed. How the hell did the
lawyer know this? “Yes,” she whispered.

“Did you report it to the police?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I was hoping she’d return.”

“I’m on my way. I expect the police to be
informed by the time I get there.”

The phone clicked. Katie punched in 911 and
wondered what to say that would be close to the truth and still
make her look good.

“They won! They won!” Tory screeched, jumping
up and down. Though Phil was a White Sox fan like his dad, he
cheered with her. All around them the crowd went crazy.

Then Tory jumped on him and kissed him.

The roars faded into white noise.

The people around them disappeared.

They were the only two people in the
universe. Phil and Tory. Her lips were locked on his, her tongue
playing ring around the rosy with his, her arms clasped around his
shoulders.

He groaned into her mouth.

She lifted her head. “I know you’ll say it’s
too early and I’m doing everything a girl isn’t supposed to do, but
I could be falling in love with you.”

For one second, he felt a great joy. The
next, he felt a greater sorrow.

He pulled away from her. “I can’t, Tory. I’m
sorry. I can’t. Not now.”

Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t say I was, I
said I could be.” Her face scrunched and she averted her face. “Oh
God, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m an idiot.”

“No! I do feel the same as you.” Even as the
words exploded from his mouth, he wished he could stuff them back
in. He didn’t deserve her. He had planned to kill her friend for
money. What kind of person did that make him?

Her gaze snapped back to him, her eyes
lighting up. “It’s your job. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“I can’t talk about it. I’ll take you home.”
How the hell had he messed up so much? He’d screwed up
everything.

As he turned away, she grabbed his hand. He
should pull away, but he left his hand in hers. His body was
strong, his willpower was jello.

***

The deputy Katie talked to on the phone
completely understood Gwen was a spoiled rich girl. When Katie told
him she would’ve loved a cat if not for an allergic reaction that
imperiled her breathing, he told her about his allergy to peanuts.
He even suggested Gwen ran away as a form of extortion.

“But she’s only ten,” he said. “I’ll have to
send a couple of deputies out there. If they don’t find her, we’ll
put together a search party.”

Katie commiserated with him about the trouble
Gwen was causing the Sheriff’s Department. He told her no one ever
thought about that. She wondered if he were single, how old he was
and what he looked like.

After hanging up, she closed her eyes and
slumped against the counter in relief. That hadn’t been too bad.
He’d believed her. After all, everything she told him had been the
truth. She straightened and was smiling as a car drove along the
driveway, the headlights shining into the house.

The lawyer, she guessed. Even if there were a
sheriff’s car close by, it would take a few minutes to drive over.
Wiping the smile from her face, she hurried to the door. She
decided to wait on the porch. She’d wring her hands and look
anxious.

“Gwen!” she called. “Gwen!”

A red, luscious Jaguar rolled to a stop at
the foot of the wide driveway. The woman who stepped out of it was
young, tall, slender and black. She strode toward the porch like
she was the Queen of the Nile. “Is Gwen back?” she demanded.

Katie stopped wringing her hands. “Who are
you?”

The woman stopped two feet away. “Jewel
Bernstein.”

Katie looked the woman up and down, taking in
the sage green trench coat and scarf that screamed designer. Her
eyes dipped to the shoes that definitely didn’t come from Payless,
the leather briefcase and, above all, the smooth caramel-colored
skin. “May I see some identification?”

The woman stilled and something in her gaze
made Katie feel like taking a step back. Katie resisted the urge.
Without a word, the woman dug a wallet from her purse, opened it.
She kept the license in her hand, holding it for Katie to read.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked, the
consonants bit off, her voice icy.

Warmth flushed Katie’s face. “I have to be
careful. You said you were e-mailing Gwen without my knowledge.
There are pedophiles on the internet looking for girls like Gwen.
Would you care to tell me how you knew she was missing?” She stood
straighter. Taking control made her feel empowered. Defense was the
best offense.

“She e-mailed me.”

“May I see it?”

Jewel smiled silkily, her teeth shining
whitely in the dim light. “Any communication between me and my
client is privileged.”

Katie held back a scream. Gwen wasn’t a
client, she was a ten-year-old girl. A runaway.

“I’m her guardian.”

“No, you’re her nanny.” Jewel patted the
briefcase. “While her parents are out of the country, my father and
I are her legal guardians.”

Gas built inside Katie’s intestinal tract and
she put her hands over her belly. Even if Gwen had all the money in
the world—and that pissed Katie off from Day One—maybe she should
have been a little nicer to her.

“Now, what have you been doing all day to
find Gwen?”

The pressure got worse, traveling to her
butt. She shouldn’t have eaten the quart of mocha chocolate chip
ice cream, but stress always sent her running to the freezer. She
squeezed her buns together to stop a loud eruption.

Jewel’s gold-flecked brown eyes stared into
hers, as if waiting to catch her in a lie. Katie began to
shake.