Chapter Nineteen

Kat dug her bare toes into the plush rug. The moment they’d returned home, she’d kicked off her heels and sought out the peace and solitude of her home office. For the past two hours, she’d been reviewing business documents, with only Angus for company.

Taking a break, she threw down her pen and sighed. She still thought Manny was harmless but had to agree with Dayne. Him showing up outside her building—with roses, no less—was indeed stalker behavior she could no longer ignore. Dayne had notified the guards not to let Manny onto the property, then he’d called the flower shop to arrange for a different delivery person.

Angus pawed his chew toy, dragging it closer to her desk then flopping onto his side. The puppy would have been glued to Remy, but Dayne had taken his K-9 on patrol outside with the guards. He was probably avoiding her. Not that she could blame the man.

Since telling Dayne she hated him, they hadn’t spoken. “Oh my god,” she groaned. She couldn’t believe she had actually said that. Right on the heels of calling him a Neanderthal. Her behavior had been inexcusable. “He just makes me so angry.”

“Who does?” Emily paused in the doorway then came in and sat on a chair.

“Dayne,” she admitted, pressing two fingers to her forehead.

“What did he do?” Emily set Kat’s scheduler on the desk.

“Nothing. Not really.” She stood and walked to the window, staring at the whitecaps dotting the river. “It wasn’t his fault. He was only doing his job.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

When she turned back to Emily, the corners of her friend’s mouth lifted. “The problem is, he makes me so angry that I say things to him I’ve never said to anyone. I just open my mouth and blurt out whatever I feel. Unabridged and inappropriate.” And she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Or stop wanting him.

“Sounds like he’s getting to you.”

“Exactly.” She dropped heavily onto her chair. “When I’m around him, everything I’ve been taught to keep inside comes bubbling to the surface like a witch’s cauldron, and that’s the way I behaved today. Like a total witch.” Bitch, more like it.

“Why do you think that is?” Angus brought Emily his toy and she tossed it to the far side of the office for him to chase.

“I don’t know.” She stared at her scheduler, not really seeing it.

“I don’t mean to go all psycho-babble on you, but sometimes anger is just anger because someone has done you wrong. Other times, people make you angry because you care more about them and what they think of you.”

Did she? Care what Dayne thought of her?

Yes. But he couldn’t possibly return the sentiment. Not that she’d given him any reason to, lately.

“I know that face.” Emily stood. “It’s the face of a woman who just figured out the answer to her questions.”

“I suppose so. Thank you, Doctor Emily.”

“My pleasure. And I won’t even charge you a co-payment.” They both laughed, easing some of the tension. “Make sure to review your scheduler.”

“I will, Em. Bye.”

Kat focused on the scheduler and smiled. Today was one of her favorite days of the year. Opening Day at Yankee Stadium. First pitch was at 1:10 p.m.

All those season openers with her parents in their luxury corporate suite overlooking the stadium… Before her mother and father died, it was a family ritual. Six months after burying them, she sold the suite but still watched every season opener on TV.

She flipped the page in her scheduler and frowned. Three weeks from this Saturday’s event was her birthday. Colin had planned a big bash in her honor. Celebrating was the last thing she wanted. Amy was dead. Another woman murdered. With everything going on, a party seemed like the height of bad taste, and her heart wasn’t in it.

The heaviness in her chest worsened. Given the tone of her last conversation with Colin, maybe he’d cancel the event altogether. It would probably be for the best.

The front door opened then closed again. Angus perked his head up. Remy trotted in and the puppy bounded to the shepherd, licking her face and nipping her legs. Both dogs trotted out, leaving her alone again.

She picked up a gold-plated pen and began tapping it louder and louder on the scheduler. Concentrating was easier said than done. Knowing Dayne was in the house made her tense.

Somehow, she managed to review documents Emily had left for her, and before she knew it thirty minutes had gone by. It was now 1:05 p.m. Five minutes before first pitch.

She closed the scheduler and went into the living room. The TV was already on and tuned to the game. Dayne stood in front of the kitchen island. “I see you found the big screen.”

A smile lit his face. “I did, and it’s kick-ass.”

She knew that smile wasn’t directed at her but rather at the giant 80-inch flat-screen TV normally hidden away in a specially made mahogany credenza. When fully extended, the massive screen took up half the wall. Still, that smile made her belly flutter.

A wonderful scent filled the air. Cookies? She followed the heavenly smell into the kitchen, unable to contain the shock in her voice. “You bake?”

Dayne gave her a wry look. “I told you I have hidden talents.” He pulled a tray from the oven and set it on the cooktop. “My mother—Renee—taught Lily and I how to bake. It was one of the first things she did with us after we got adopted. Helped us all to bond. Nothing fancy, mostly cookies, brownies, cakes, and pies.”

“Nothing fancy? That’s quite an accomplishment.” She leaned over the cookie rack and inhaled. “They smell amazing. Chocolate chip?”

He nodded. “Yep. Mom said every chef needs a good chipper recipe.”

“Francine tried teaching me to bake.” She scrunched up her face at the memory of her very blackened, very failed attempt at making brownies. “It didn’t take.”

“My baking is adequate.” Using a spatula, he transferred the cookies to a cooling rack. “Lily’s skills are out of bounds.”

“Her cake last night was decadent. I’ll be having chocolate mousse dreams for weeks.” He slathered one side of a cookie with frosting then sandwiched it with another. “You made frosting, too?” Her mouth watered. She dug her finger into the bowl then licked off the fluffy white icing, closing her eyes and moaning. “That’s good. Really good.”

She opened her eyes. Dayne stared at her finger then licked his lips and swallowed. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks,” he muttered, and went back to slapping more cookie sandwiches together.

It was brief, but there was no missing the unspoken heat and emotion in his eyes. She’d felt it, too. That attraction, magnetic pull, or whatever it was that hung between them and refused to go away no matter how much they denied it.

He took his plate and a tall glass of milk into the living room then sat on the sofa and turned up the volume. “I hope you don’t mind if I watch in here. Your 80-incher is too good to waste.”

“Not at all.” Considering her rude behavior earlier, it was the least she could do. “As long as you don’t mind if I join you.” She followed him and sat on the other side of the sofa.

His brows rose. “You’re a baseball fan?”

“Not just a baseball fan. A Yankees fan.” She paused at the look of skepticism on his face. “What, girls aren’t allowed to like baseball?”

“I didn’t say that.” He bit off half a cookie sandwich and chewed. “I’m just surprised,” he said around a mouthful of cookie.

“Well, don’t be.” She proceeded to tell him of her family’s opening-day tradition.

“Luxury suite, huh?” He arched a brow.

“Yes, but I sold it.”

His face contorted. “Why?”

“It was something we shared as a family. After my parents died, it wasn’t the same without them.”

He watched her for a moment, saying nothing. “That sounds like a nice tradition. I’ve only been in one of those suites once. I felt like I’d died and gone to baseball heaven.”

She reached for a cookie, but he snatched the plate away.

“Get your own. These are mine.”

She counted quickly. “All ten cookie sandwiches are yours?”

“I need my snacks. I’m a big boy.” He shoved another cookie into his mouth, washing it down with a gulp of milk.

Yes, you are. He’d rolled his dress shirtsleeves to just below his elbows, exposing thick, flexing forearms. Instead of ogling him, she should be thankful they were talking again. Otherwise, living under the same roof until this was over would be a living, breathing hell.

“You’re not serious about hoarding all those cookies,” she chided. “Are you?”

He took a deep breath. “I’ll let you have some on one condition.”

She crossed her arms. “What’s that?”

Humor twinkled in his eyes. “You fix the next batch.”

“Deal. Now hand them over.” She held out her hand and he presented her with the plate. After carefully selecting the two biggest cookie sandwiches, she placed her bare feet on the coffee table.

“Is that a tradition, too?” He indicated her feet.

She nodded enthusiastically as more of the tension between them eased. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He shucked his shoes and stretched out his long legs, carefully setting his feet on the table.

Kat nearly choked on the cookie she’d been chewing. The New York Yankees team emblem was printed on the sides of his socks. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “This is my tradition.”

“I can see that.” And his feet were h-u-g-e, huge. “What size shoe do you wear?” The disparity between their feet was comical. His were nearly three inches longer and twice as wide.

“Lucky thirteen. You?”

“Lucky seven.”

A uniformed member of the New York City Police Department belted out the national anthem, then the first pitch was thrown.

By the seventh inning stretch, they were on the edge of their seats—literally. The score was three-three after a controversial call that resulted in the Boston Red Sox tying the game.

“Did you see that?” Kat shouted, pointing to the screen. “That ump needs glasses. The runner was so out at first it’s not funny.”

Dayne nodded. “That ump makes more controversial calls than any other umpire in the league.”

She fell back against the sofa and crossed her arms. “I should have him fired.”

He chuckled. “You have that much pull?”

“I’d be willing to assert my influence. It’s a matter of principle.”

“That it is.” He held up his hand, palm out for her to smack, which she did in mutual agreement.

The brief contact sent tingles of awareness shooting up her arm. Awareness she didn’t want to feel. She stood, raising her arms over her head. “Time for the stretch.” Dayne didn’t move. His gaze was fastened on her breasts. Quickly, she lowered her arms and sat, grabbing another cookie to take her mind off thinking about him, too. It didn’t help. Not when he looked at her that way.

“Tell me about Chad.”

Kat froze in mid-chew. She finished chewing then swallowed. The cookie and the latent anger and humiliation. “There’s not much to tell. He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“I know that. But how long has it been?”

“About a month. We broke up a few hours before you and I first met at the Haven. At least, that’s when I found out from Penny that he dumped me. Later that day, I read about it in the tabloids. One of my maids overheard the conversation and sold it for three hundred dollars.”

“Ouch.” He grimaced.

“Yes, ouch.” Thankfully, the raw, aching pain had finally disappeared. “That’s why I have such a small staff. I didn’t want eyes and ears on me all the time, so that same day, I fired everyone I didn’t trust.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “Why did you break up?”

“He discovered that in order to marry me he’d have to sign a prenuptial agreement.” There. She’d said it, and it felt good to unload.

Dayne’s features tightened. “The man’s a fool for letting you get away.”

“Actually, he did me a favor. He only wanted my money. Like I said, it’s kind of a recurring problem for me.”

“I’ll bet it is.” Again, he nodded, but there was sincerity and understanding in his eyes.

She clasped her hands, staring at them. “I think what upset me most was that I would have given him anything he wanted. Anything.”

“Do you still love him?”

The answer came to her with incredible clarity. “I don’t think I ever did, or I wouldn’t have gotten over him so quickly. I think I just wanted someone to love and marry. It’s important to me. I want to have children but not with someone who doesn’t love me back.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You probably think that’s silly and naive.”

“No. I don’t.” He took a deep inhale and let it out. “The day I got accepted into the FBI academy, I went out and bought a ring for my girlfriend. An engagement ring. I was excited to share the good news and tell her that I wanted her with me wherever I got stationed.”

The young woman in the now crumpled photo. Brit. “I take it things didn’t work out.”

He grunted. “She was excited by the diamond ring, all right. Not about me becoming an FBI agent.”

“Why not? I would be proud if the man I loved worked for the FBI.” Whoops. Heat flooded her face. She hadn’t meant her words to come out quite like that.

“Thanks, but she definitely wasn’t proud. She expected me to go to medical school then join her father’s orthopedic practice and make the big bucks of a surgeon so she could live in style. What I thought was happy news wound up being the very thing that split us up.”

“I’m sorry.” His iron-hard jaw tightened, leaving her wondering if… “Do you still love her?”

“God no.” He laughed bitterly. “I just felt stupid for not seeing her for what she was.”

“A gold-digging bitch?” As Lily had indicated last night.

The corners of his mouth lifted. “I guess we have more in common than we realized. The Yankees and people wanting to marry us for our money.”

“Who knew?” Kat grabbed another cookie sandwich, touching it to his in a mock toast. A cookie toast. “Here’s to finding the right person.”

“The right fiscally responsible person.”

They laughed and bit into their cookies. A gob of icing squirted onto her lower lip.

“Kat.” Using his finger, he swiped off the frosting before it fell onto her shirt. As he licked his finger, his gaze met hers and he swallowed.

Kat’s heart raced. There it is again. So much heat and emotion pouring off him, she could feel it straight through her blouse. Kiss me. Kiss me, dammit.

He leaned in closer until their mouths were inches apart. Her heart pounded faster. If he didn’t kiss her soon she’d go up in flames.

His lips grazed hers, softly at first then with more pressure. He urged her mouth open, and oh yes. Finally. When their tongues met, need spiked in her blood. She wanted to touch him but was afraid this was some kind of magic spell and one wrong move would shatter the moment.

Still not touching her with his hands, he deepened the kiss and it was all she could do not to groan into his mouth. He tasted of sugar, chocolate, and vanilla. The unhurried way his tongue danced with hers was more sensual than the first time they’d kissed. That kiss had been fast and furious and more about easing their grief. Then, they’d barely known each other. This time was completely different. Now they were just two people who liked and wanted each other.

With a groan, he pulled away. No, she wanted to scream. The look on his face mimicked what he’d said to her in the library last week: You’re a witness. My job is to protect you, not… make love to you. He hadn’t said those words then, and he didn’t now. He didn’t have to.

His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “I really should take the dogs out.” He shoved his feet into his shoes and headed for the door. The dogs joined him, and a moment later she was alone.

All the energy bled from her body. She sank to the sofa and grabbed one of the fluffy, frilly-fringed pillows, holding it to her chest. They were standing on either side of an emotional boundary, looking over the edge at something that could have dire consequences. He’d set that boundary. To keep me safe. It was a line he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—cross.

Would getting involved really undermine his ability to protect her? He seemed to think so. Maybe it’s my priorities that are messed up.

Kat dug her nails deeper into the pillow. Life was a precious gift, and someone out there wanted to end hers.

Dayne and the dogs charged back inside. “Are you sure it’s him?” he said into the cell pressed to his ear. “When did he get there?”

Kat shot to her feet, tracking Dayne as he paced the foyer, looking grim. She threw the pillow to the sofa and moved closer. Whoever he was talking to, the news wasn’t good. That seemed to be a recurring theme in her life.

He ended the call and slammed his phone onto the table. “Clarkstown PD found Jonathan Bale’s car. Bale wasn’t in it.”

“Who was?” She half expected him to say they’d found another dead body.

“His girlfriend. She was on her way to visit Bale. He checked himself into rehab. A month ago, and he’s still there.”

Which meant Bale couldn’t have killed Rebecca or Amy. Which meant…

The real killer was still out there.