The Mistletoe Affair Page 17

  I won't let you down, Dad.

  Her eyes stung, but she fought back the tears. “I've told you that Jared and I aren't lovers,” she said, dragging her mind back to the receiver Paul held in front of her face.

  “Yet,” he added. “You love that bastard. I saw the way you kissed him at the tree-trimming party. Even the walls can see you want him. It's in your eyes every time you look at him."

  Heat flooded her face. Paul's accusations made her feel like she'd been punched in the stomach. Did she love Jared or was it lust? How do you tell the difference? When their lips had met under the mistletoe, desire skyrocketed. Their kiss turned into a hunger so fierce they'd embarrassed themselves in front of everyone.

  “You're thinking of that bastard,” Paul snarled.

  She gnawed the inside of her mouth. He would touch her again when ice cubes were on the menu in hell.

  He handed her the phone to dial. “You better sound convincing,” he warned.

  It rang for an eternity.

  “Hello,” Jared said.

  She swallowed hard. “Hello,” she whispered back.

  “Katherine, sweetheart.” He interrupted, plowing into her tear-filled pause, “Don't talk, please listen."

  She didn't want him hurt. Tell him now. “I don't want to hear anything you have to say-"

  He interrupted her again. “I tried calling and this may be the last time I talk to you, please listen."

  The thought of never hearing from him again hurt. She paused.

  “I've replayed the night I stopped us from making love a hundred times. It was torture for both of us, but I didn't want you to think I was like Paul. I told you I didn't want to hurt you, sweetheart. You'd have regretted making love with me later. I know you would."

  “What the hell's he saying?” Paul asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

  She placed her hand over the mouthpiece. “Shhh. He's thanking me for going to the dance,” she whispered.

  Jared grew quiet for a second.

  “Until I replayed that night in my mind over and over, the timing of what I said never dawned on me. I stopped us after you'd exposed yourself to me emotionally."

  Katherine removed her hand from the mouthpiece and glanced down at the table, avoiding Paul's eyes. “It doesn't matter now. I have something to-"

  He interrupted her. “It does matter, sweetheart. Your inexperience makes you more precious to me. It makes me more protective of you. I don't understand it, but I know hurting you would hurt me. You know how you'd do anything for Matt and your mother. That's how I feel about you. Did you hear me?"

  She coughed. “Yes."

  Hurting Jared would hurt her, too. Right to her soul.

  “I want us to stay close friends until we can sort out exactly how we feel about each other. I don't want to lose you or Matt's friendship. I'm trying not to do anything to louse that up. Understand?"

  “Tell him, dammit.” Paul reached toward her.

  She put her hand over the mouthpiece again. “Back off,” she warned, and turned so he couldn't snatch the phone from her.

  Please, Lord. Let Jared understand what I'm really saying. Don't let him believe the lies I'm forced to speak right now.

  She squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the tears welling up. “Understood. I agree, but I need to tell you some wonderful news. Paul and I have made up. We're getting remarried."

  “I don't believe you. Is Paul there in the room?"

  She laughed. “It's true, I swear. No, my fiancé isn't in the room."

  “How can you do this? Damn! He hasn't changed. You know that. He'll hurt you and Matt again. I'm coming over to talk some sense in your head."

  She rubbed her shoulder. What could she say? She glanced at Paul, who stood beside her now. He pulled the phone away from her ear.

  “I want to hear what he's saying,” Paul whispered.

  The room seemed to close in on her. Suffocate her. Smother her. She gasped for breath.

  “No. Don't barge over here like Superman. Remember. Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Now, congratulate us."

  Silence reigned on the line for a long moment. “I'll be damned if I'll do that.” The sound of a fist slamming against wood filtered through the phone. “I stepped into it again, didn't I? When will I learn about women?"

  The line went dead.

  * * * *

  “You want me to go beat the shit out of Paul?” Carl asked.

  “No,” Jared muttered.

  The second he'd hung up on Katherine, Jared had called his detective friend and he'd come over immediately. Jared grabbed a paper towel and sopped up the coffee trail on the kitchen floor. He had repeated every bit of his conversation with Katherine, including his suspicions that Paul had heard the tail end of it. Jared had to play a role, or risk Paul finding out Jared hadn't believed Katherine. Whatever trouble she was in, he hadn't wanted to compound it by making Paul suspicious.

  “What you gonna do?” Carl topped Jared's cup again and sat down beside him.

  Jared raised his head, turned and lobbed the dripping paper into the trash basket. “Wait for Katherine."

  Carl scratched his beard. “Didn't you tell me she said she's remarrying that son-of-a-bitch? Paul won, you lost."

  “No, I haven't, not yet anyway."

  Carl shook his head. “Last time you got dumped, you stayed stinking drunk for a week. This time, you've gone plumb wacky. Want me to call you a doctor?"

  Jared sipped his coffee and grabbed a napkin. “I don't need one. I need you to find out what scheme Paul's pulled that would force her to marry him.” He folded the napkin in half, and later into quarters as his mind raced. “I don't think it involves Matt. No attorney could get the custody order changed to Paul. That leaves Grace. It's a threat to her mother in some way, probably financial."

  “Any more ideas?"

  He shredded the napkin into tiny pieces and looked up, feeling the first spark of hope since his call from Katherine. “Paul's all about money, and I know Grace's husband was sick for several years. He wasn't old enough for Medicare. He owned a small business, but it declined and later failed. I bet we'll find he didn't have much insurance, or he maxed the benefits and racked up a lot of medical bills."

  Carl sipped the last of his coffee and stood up, shrugging on his coat. “And a lot of debt. I'll get right on it.” He paused at the door and looked back. “You know Christmas is in a few days. You wanna come-"

  “And call Sergeant Sinclair off,” Jared snapped, ignoring Carl's hesitant invitation before it was out. Good God, the last thing he needed was to spend Christmas with a gruff private detective and his wife drinking rum-and-sodas and thinking of Katherine. He forced a faint smile past the taut frustration that had been jamming up his blood for hours now. Carl wasn't to blame, and he was a good friend. Perhaps too good. “Okay? No more police escorts. I'm a big boy now."

  “You sure?” Carl asked, looking embarrassed, whether by the broken-off invitation or by being found out. “It makes the old man feel important-kind of like playing spy games."

  Carl didn't fool him. “I'll be fine. No one's going to hurt me."

  “You're gonna go over there and help her, aren't you?"

  Jared shook his head. He drank the last of his coffee and tightened the grip on the cup. “I can't. If I took any actions that caused her family harm, I don't think Katherine would forgive me. She wants to solve it herself, remember? No Superman routine."

  His eyes narrowed. “That's what she meant?"

  Jared nodded. “She was warning me not to try and help."

  “What tipped you off she doesn't intend to marry Paul?"

  “Her ‘trust me'. I asked her once how I knew she wouldn't go back to Paul. She said ‘trust me'. That's what I'm doing."

  Carl chuckled. “Yeah? Why you got me chasing my tail around finding out what her ex is up to?"

  Jared frowned. “I trust Katherine to the moon and back, but not that weasel. Paul's dangerous. If she needs me, I want the
ammunition to step in fast and help her."

  Carl pushed away from the table and stood. “You're placing a lot of faith in a few vague phrases. What if you're wrong? What if Katherine's remarrying her ex?"

  Jared slammed the cup down so hard it shattered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Katherine had three days to accomplish the impossible. According to the banks she'd called, obtaining a loan for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars would take her weeks, and the holidays wouldn't speed up the process either. She was on her own.

  “Are you sure about this, Katherine? You love your house. Every time I asked to buy it, you turned me down flat,” Deborah reminded her.

  Katherine twisted the cord to the phone. She studied the painting of her mother and father that hung in the bedroom of her mother's home. His arms enfolded her in a gentle embrace. The light in her eyes radiated warmth even through the canvas as their hands touched lightly. “I'm positive."

  “Is anything wrong?” her childhood friend asked with concern. “I'll miss having you live next door, but where ever you move we'll keep in touch like always.” She paused. “You're determined to go through with this, aren't you?"

  She hated lying to her friend. “No, nothing's wrong. Yes, I'm selling my house, whether you buy it or not. Mom needs me here after her hip surgery. I don't want mother and Matt to know about this until I tell them."

  Deborah giggled. “You're going to surprise them at Christmas. Matt's always wanted to live nearer to his grandma. That's so like you. You're always so sweet."

  “Stop buttering me up. I won't come down on the price,” she kidded and crossed her fingers. “Trouble is, I need to sell it fast. Like yesterday."

  “You got it. I don't want to give you time to change your mind."

  “I won't,” Katherine promised and uncrossed her fingers.

  “I'm sorry. That probably sounded like I'm not grateful for our friendship. I truly am.” Deborah sniffed several times.

  “Don't start blubbering, or you'll have me doing it too. It's not like we won't ever see each other again."

  “Of course not. My delivery date is March fourth. So expect a call about that time."

  Deborah was expecting twin boys again and ecstatic. Katherine remembered her own innocent dreams of having more babies. Those dreams had died. She envied Deborah's hopefulness about the future. “I will."

  Deborah laughed. “I'm so excited. We've always rented, so this will be the first home we'll own. Yours will give us the extra space we need, too. I can't wait to tell John. We've tried to find a larger house in this neighborhood for so long."

  Katherine turned to the computer and attached a file to her e-mail. “I'm sending you information so we can handle all the transactions by Thursday through the mortgage company, title company, local banks, and fax. I'll come to Sugar Land January second and move my belongings. Is that date okay? If not, I'll get my stuff out right after Christmas."

  “Don't be a silly goose. Of course, January second is okay. Take a couple of weeks more, if you need them."

  “Thanks. I may do that.” She'd have to find an apartment after Christmas in Houston and hunt another house.

  “John always takes care of everything for me, so we'll wire the money to your bank right away. Isn't he a doll?"

  Another pang of jealousy hit Katherine. John pampered Deborah, especially when she was pregnant. “Yes, he is. John spoils you rotten. You better hold onto him."

  After Deborah hung up, Katherine stared at the list of assets displayed on the computer. All her years of hard work fit on half a page. Her throat constricted and she swallowed hard. They're only material things, she reminded herself. Things can be replaced.

  She winced and moved their home in the suburbs of Sugar Land to the sold column of the spreadsheet.

  Glancing up, the date posted at the top edge of the computer screen glared back at her-December eighteenth.

  She had three days to beat Paul at his own game by selling everything she'd ever owned to pay off her father's debts. Somehow, it didn't feel like winning. This morning she had pawned her jewelry, except for the emerald pendant Paul made her wear. The jewelry was no real loss because he had given it to her. She moved it over to the sold section, too.

  Paul's threat loomed like a vulture at the top of her spreadsheet. With the sale of her house and jewelry, she'd reduced his threat to a measly two hundred eighty thousand. Right?

  How could she possibly raise the rest?

  Someone tried to open her bedroom door. It clattered as the handle was jarred up and down. A foot kicked loudly against the bottom of the door. “Why is it locked?” Paul's voice shouted from the hall.

  Her hand shot down to the mouse and hit ‘SAVE,’ her stomach turning somersaults until it finished whirring and clicking the valuable information onto her floppy. She flung the disc behind a rack of books with one hand and opened a new, innocent file with the other. She sprinted across the room and unlocked the door.

  Paul flung it open, banging it against the wall. “Don't lock me out of here again.” His lips pressed into an angry scowl. He glanced around the room and looked inside the closet. “I heard your voice.” His eyes narrowed. “You trying to pull something?"

  “You missed the bed,” she said, lifting the spread so he could peek under it.

  “Very funny. What the hell were you doing in here?"

  She pointed to the computer. Last year's presentation showed on the screen, but he wouldn't know the slides were from a previous year. “Practicing a speech."

  He walked to the monitor, clicked the mouse and read a few lines.

  “Pretty dull, huh?” she asked.

  When he relaxed and seemed to accept her story, she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “I thought we'd go out to lunch. We should let Grace and Matt see us together some over the next couple of days,” he suggested, walking back toward the doorway.

  Paul had left after breakfast and stayed gone for three hours today. His ‘trip’ was her window of opportunity to raise money. She suspected he had gone to see Ann Young. Maybe if she prodded him a little, he'd get angry and stay away more.

  She had to try.

  “Where'd you go this morning?” she asked, glancing at him.

  “An urgent matter came up,” he said suggestively. The look he gave her left no doubt where he'd been.

  She knew he hated orders. Tell him not to do anything, and he'd do it just for spite. “Stay away from Ann Young while you're here.” She turned her back on him and stood by the computer with her arms crossed, waiting for his response.

  She heard him move closer.

  “You want me to bring my urges in here?” His breath fell on the nape of her neck.

  She lifted a four-inch bladed letter opener, so he could see it over he shoulder. “Do you think you should?"

  Paul moved away. “I don't think so, and stop trying to tell me what to do.” He pointed his finger at her. “That's the thing I hated most about being married to you. I'll see her every morning if I want to. Ann's a helluva lot of fun. Hot. Bedding you was like rubbing against ice,” he accused.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.

  He's playing on your feelings of inadequacy. Don't let him know he can get to you.

  When she replied, her voice was steady and level. “I need to freshen up before we leave."

  He laughed harshly. “Who knows? Maybe we'll run into Jared while we're out."

  Her eyes flew open, and her throat tightened.

  Jared.

  * * * *

  “You're making a huge mistake. I don't know why you're doing this, but think about it for a week or two before you do anything,” her business partner, Roger, suggested over the phone the next day.

  A week or two! Today was December nineteenth. She had one more day to raise the money to pay off Paul.

  “Will you buy my share of the investment firm or not?” Katherine held the phone to one side and wiped
the tears that slid down her cheeks.

  “You know damn well I'd jump at it, and so would Ethan and Christopher. We could probably swing one hundred and fifty thousand for your buyout initially. Long range payments could range from forty to sixty thousand a year over the next five years. The three of us will sit down, work out the math and get exact figures to you later today."

  Her chin quivered. “Do it,” she whispered. “Send an e-mail to me with the specifics."

  His voice softened. “Katherine, you're selling a business you've built from the ground up. Your baby. One that's growing fast and has the potential to bring you millions in ten or twelve years. We're friends, not just business partners. Why are you doing this crazy thing?"

  “My mother needs me,” she murmured.

  “There's no way I can change your mind?"

  “No."

  He exhaled into the phone. “Okay. Fax me the signed documents if you agree to what I send you, we'll wire the money to your bank tomorrow.” Roger paused. “Keep in touch, Katherine."

  After hanging up the phone, she blew her nose and moved her investment firm over to the sold section.

  The amount she needed now stood at one hundred and thirty thousand. She had one more day to raise that astronomical sum.

  Continuing down the list of assets, she bypassed the car. Selling her eight-year-old Mustang was out of the question. Paul would notice if it suddenly went missing. If he became suspicious, he would move the wedding date up.

  That left one asset.

  The coin collection her mother had found and given Katherine. She had placed a fat question mark beside it. While the sentimental value was priceless, the monetary value was unknown.