Beauty & the Beast (2 page)

“Vincent, glad you and your lovely wife could make it,” another voice said. Dr. Grillo, head of the ER, and Dr. Adams, the director of the hospital, paused en route to the other side of the room. “The more physicians in attendance, the better.”

“Attending physicians, that’s a good one, sir,” Vincent said, and the three doctors shared a smile. The two bigwigs moved on, and Heather grimaced like a madwoman.

“Oh, my God,
look
,” she whispered, lowering her arms. Streaks of tiny red bumps washed her collarbones and upper chest.

“You have a rash,” Vincent said.

Heather rolled her eyes. “
Thank
you for that diagnosis. It’s my new moisturizer, Cat. I washed it off but it was too late. Ravi’s due any second and I look like I have leprosy!”

“Actually, you don’t,” Vincent offered. “Leprosy presents more like a dark brown—”

“Didn’t you bring a wrap?” Cat asked.

“No.” Heather’s voice rose. “I was going to be late and I just jumped into a cab and…” She trailed off. “I can’t let him see me like this!”

“Here.” Cat snaked off her beloved new jacket and held it out to Heather. Then she grabbed it back and held it against her chest. “I won’t catch her rash, will I?” she asked Vincent.

“Well, it depends,” Vincent began, as Heather yanked it away from Cat and slipped it on.

“Hey,” Cat protested.

“Thanks,” Heather said. It shouldn’t go with the dress, but on Heather, the combination was spectacular.

“Ravi at three o’clock,” Vincent announced.

Heather turned her head. Her eyes widened. “Wow, just in time.”

Ravi Suresh, PhD, was a lanky twenty-something from India, with lush blue-black hair that he wore in a topknot, deep-set hazel eyes, a sharp, angled jaw, and an accent that made women swoon. He saw Heather and gave her what was at best a half-hearted wave. Heather returned it with a bright, anxious smile, which was on no level reciprocated. Cat took note. Ravi was usually very warm and open, but tonight he trudged toward Heather with zero enthusiasm, his mouth set in a line and his brow furrowed. Maybe he’d had a rough day at work. He worked for Chrysalis, a high-tech firm, and even though he was one of their irreplaceable geniuses—according to Heather—Cat knew the pressure on him to produce results was enormous.

“Oh, hi, Ravi,” Heather said shrilly, smoothing the black jacket in place.

“Good evening, Heather.” His smile almost made it to his eyes as he pecked her on the cheek.

Heather shifted her weight. “This is my sister, Cat, and my brother-in-law Vincent Keller. Vincent is a doctor and Cat is a police detective.”

Ravi’s blossoming smile faded. He blinked. “Oh, really?”

“Yes. Really,” Heather said.

Cat reminded herself that a lot of people were uncomfortable around cops. It was one of the drawbacks of the job. Still, it didn’t endear him any more to her. She looked around. “Shall we find some seats? It looks like they’re going to start serving dinner.”

“Oh, boy, speeches,” Vincent murmured.

“There’s a nice table.” Heather took Ravi’s hand. Her sister was almost as nervous as Ravi, but in Heather’s case, Cat knew why. For the Chandler women, Mother’s Day was nearly as emotionally trying as their mother’s birthday. Cat had been their mom’s person, yes, but Vanessa had never seemed to have enough time for Heather. Cat had tried to fill that void, often crossing the line between big sister and surrogate mother during their growing-up years. Special days like this unleashed so many emotions in both the sisters that they rarely celebrated them. But in support of the cause, generous Heather had purchased two tickets.

The four sat near a floor-to-ceiling window. There were other place settings at the table, but those seats had yet to be filled. Ravi lifted his water glass and gulped down the contents. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Are you feeling all right?” Vincent asked him, and Ravi jerked as if he’d been shot.

“Fine. Very,” he replied. “Just a hard day at work.” He glanced around the room again. “I could use a drink.”

“Oh, the bar’s outside,” Heather piped up. “I could—”

“Yes.” Ravi pushed back his chair and stood. “Would you like something, Heather?”

“I’ll go with you.” Carefully holding the jacket shut, Heather rose. “Cat? Vincent?”

“I’m fine.” Cat smiled at her sister.

“Me too,” Vincent said.

With Heather leading the way, the younger couple disappeared into the crush. Cat turned to Vincent, who was frowning.

“Something’s up with that guy,” he said.

“I think so too.”

“Great minds think alike. His heartbeat doubled when he heard that you’re a cop.”

“It freaked him out,” she agreed. “But it freaks a lot of people out.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He shrugged. “Still…”

“Yes.”

They both picked up their water glasses at the same time. Sipped at the same time. Put them back down in unison.

“Nothing came up on him on my background check,” Cat reminded him. If Heather ever found out that Cat had vetted her date, she’d be furious.

“Just because you didn’t find anything doesn’t mean that there’s nothing there.”

“Yeah.” But she was good at uncovering information others missed. Look at Vincent—she’d been the one to figure out that he wasn’t dead, despite every official record under the sun asserting otherwise. “Let’s keep an eye on him.”

“Agreed.”

She sighed. “Heather left a bride magazine on the breakfast bar this morning when she came over to get the keys.”

“That’s no good. Rubber chicken at five o’clock,” Vincent announced. A waiter was heading their way with a plate in each hand.

“Ravi could be okay.” She sat back slightly so the waiter could serve her. A mixed salad in a miniscule golden bowl. “But I don’t think he’s the one.”

“Not the one,” Vincent echoed. “Maybe I should pay him a little visit. Beast out and scare him off.”

Cat smiled faintly. He’d never do it, but it was sweet to see how protective he was of her little sister.

“I’d do it, too,” he said.

“I know.” She grinned and covered his hand with hers. Then she made a face. “Oh, my God. You don’t think he
gave
her that rash, do you?”

“Are these seats taken?” A quartet of newcomers approached their table—two couples attired in finery. Cat shook her head and made a welcoming gesture.

“Please,” she said. “Those four are still up for grabs. I’m Catherine Keller. And this is my husband, Vincent.”

“ER,” Vincent said, half-rising to shake hands.

As they made their introductions, her anxiety about Heather receded into the background. She was here with her wonderful soul mate, the man for whom she had been destined. They had risked everything to be together, and they had triumphed. Together, they could handle anything. And they would.

“It didn’t look like an STD,” Vincent said under his breath.

The woman who had been about to sit down froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“Just shop talk,” Cat said mildly. “My, this tomato looks tasty.”

“He’s probably dumping her right now,” Vincent said. “Texting her while they’re standing on line.” Then he smiled at the newcomers. “No one here has an STD.”

CHAPTER THREE

Tess Vargas flashed her biggest fake smile at her brother as she stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside JT Forbes and held out her hands for the drop. “I’m telling you, Jamie. We’ve got this,” she said.

Her brother chewed the inside of his cheek, his “tell” that he was not quite committed to his decision. “You screw this up and you’re dead.”

No
, you’re
dead
, Tess thought. Despite the fact that her brother was a hardened NYC cop just like the other four, Jamie’s wife ruled the roost. And the tawny little chihuahua struggling in her brother’s arms was officially Connie’s dog, not Jamie’s.

“We won’t screw up,” Tess insisted. “It’s one tiny dog.”

“This is not just a dog. This is Princess Mochi,” her brother shot back, nuzzling the dog’s tiny face. She bared her fangs and snapped at him, and he jerked back his head.

“Um, I think she may be peeing on you,” JT drawled.

Her brother swore under his breath and straightened his arms. Princess Mochi dangled above JT’s marble floor. She yipped. Her teeth flashed and her bulbous dark eyes seemed to go red in the subdued lighting. Princess Mochi, right. Princess of Hell.

Tess took the dog from her brother and set her gently on the floor. Princess Mochi spun around and around in a circle like a windup toy and took off like a shot. Her tiny nails clicked on the stone.

“She just wants to inspect her new territory,” Tess ventured. “You should take off. You’re delaying the inevitable.”

“No, seriously, I can’t wait to go to Disney World with twelve of my closest in-laws,” her brother grumped. “Did I mention that Connie’s brother is on anti-psychotic medication?”

“Antidepressants,” Tess corrected. “Give it a chance. You’ll have fun.”

“And her uncle spits wherever he feels like it and calls me Chachi?”

“That’s better than dumbass, which is what I call you,” Tess said. She pointed to the door. “Go. Get your ears on.”

“If
anything
happens to Princess Mochi…” He wagged a finger at her. “I’m not kidding, Tess.”

Like a mosquito, the chihuahua buzzed into Tess’s line of vision. Whirring beside JT’s sofa, she uttered chuffing noises and assumed a squat.

“No!” JT thundered, darting toward her. “No, bad dog!”

“She is not a bad dog. There are no bad dogs,” Jamie said. “You need to tell her what you want.”

“Oh, I’ll tell her, believe me,” JT said between clenched teeth.

“No hitting! Hit her and I will shoot you,” Jamie said.

“Who beat whom at the shooting range?” JT reminded him. At a recent birthday party, JT had gotten pissed off at the way Tess’s brothers were dissing her and scored well enough on a paper target to qualify for sergeant.

“Okay, we’re done here.” Tess flattened her hands on her brother’s chest, turned him around, and pushed him toward the door.

“No hitting the dog,” her brother said.

“None. Ever. JT would never hurt a fly.”

“You have her feeding schedule. Her food. She needs two walks a day.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
And if I didn’t owe you for covering for me when I forgot Cousin Sal’s birthday, someone else would be walking her. Like at a boarding facility.

At the door, her brother turned back around. “Don’t forget to brush her teeth before bedtime.”

Brush her teeth? Oh, my God.

“No problem.” She opened the door.

“Ouch! She bit me!” JT howled.

“You’re upsetting her with this long, drawn-out goodbye,” Tess told her brother.

“I love you, Mochi,” Jamie sing-sang in a lovey-dovey voice. “Be good for Aunt Tess and Uncle JT!”

She firmly put him outside like a garbage can and shut the door in his face. Then she fell against it and sighed before heading across the room to assess the damage. Clutching Mochi against his chest, JT was staring in horror at his right arm.

Two tiny pinpricks stared back at him and Tess. Mentally she rolled her eyes. She loved JT, but she did not love his hypochondria. “Let me get the antiseptic.”

“And the rabies shot,” he grumped. “Remind me again why we’re doing this.”

“It’s nothing. Like I told my brother, we’ve got it.” She retrieved the first aid kit from behind the bar. And a bottle of Scotch.

“How long are we doing this?” JT asked.

“A week. We can do anything for a week.”

“Hah. Trying holding your breath for seven days. Please hurry with a bandage. I’m bleeding all over the floor.”

A flutter of nausea caught Tess off guard. It was one of many flutters she had experienced lately.
No, I can’t be
, she thought, and an image of the unopened pregnancy test kit that she had bought yesterday flashed through her mind. The kind with the little stick you peed on, and then if a cross appeared in the little circle, it was positive.

“And for your information, I
would
hurt a fly. I’ve been known to beat up bad guys. I am very fierce.”

“Yes, JT, you are fierce. And brave.”

Much braver than Tess.

No way was she peeing on that stick.

CHAPTER FOUR

Something tells me that he’s not nervous because he’s going to propose
, Heather thought, as she and Ravi
finally
snagged his gin and tonic and her appletini at the charity dinner’s rooftop bar. The line was a mile long. Her rash was on fire. Ravi was looking everywhere except at her and while she’d had a lot of
bad
experiences with guys, that translated into a lot of experience, period, and she knew a brushoff when she saw one. She may as well face the truth now. Ravi just was not that into her.

Then suddenly he brightened, set his drink down on the edge of a burnished planter containing a miniature Italian cypress, and enfolded her in an embrace. She inhaled his spicy cologne with her sharp intake of breath and allowed herself to melt against him. So much for the brushoff and
hello
cuddling.

“Heather,” he breathed. “Forgive me for seeming so preoccupied.”

“You had a rough day at work.” Her joyous words were muffled against his neck.

“That’s no excuse for ignoring such a beautiful woman.” He nibbled on her ear and gathered her up even closer. “I need to learn how to turn off.”

On. You need to turn on.
“I can help with that,” she said huskily. Her mind traveled to where her body was already going, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth in sudden panic. Wait. How could she get naked with him? With this hideous rash?

“Um,” she said. His hands were following the curves of her chest, and the fingertips of his right hand were dipping into the pocket of her jacket. They came back out as if he had realized he’d made a wrong turn.

Then he kissed her with such intense passion that her head swam. Just as she was getting into it, he released her. “We’re out in public,” he reminded her. “We should get back to the table, to your sister and her husband. You didn’t mention that she was a cop.”