Caught in the Act (The Davenports) (24 page)

Overcome with unexpected emotion, he pulled his hand back and shoved his now-cold coffee aside. He grabbed the rest of his mother’s omelet. “That’s enough eating. Let’s go out. We’ll go antiquing today. We haven’t done that in years.”

Hitting the many antique stores along the coast had once been their one-Sunday-a-month thing. Or, it had been
her
thing. He’d gone along because he liked spending time with her. And because there were used bookstores in most of the same areas. He could shop for books while she picked out a gold-painted horse with only three feet or whatever ridiculous “antique” she happened to find.

“You really want your picture to show up in the tabloids with your mother?” she asked.

“I want to do whatever I want. That’s the problem I have with all of this. I won’t hide from my life. I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not. For anyone. That would be a deal breaker.”

His mother thought about that for a minute, then gave a firm shake of her head. She stood from the table. “Sounds like a good plan to me. Let’s go. We’ll take Tank with us.”

“His name isn’t Tank, Mom.”

She shot him a wicked wink. “I know, but did you see the size of that guy?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

C
AT WAITED A
couple more minutes to make sure Brody didn’t text anything else, then she picked her phone back up. It was time. She’d put off the call to her mother too long, but the brief conversation with Brody had bolstered her confidence.

She dialed the phone.

Her mother picked up on the first ring. “It’s about time I heard from you.”

“Did you do this?” Cat asked calmly. No need beating around the bush. Her mother intended to win that Senate seat, and Thomas Harrison had been leading the polls.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Catherine. Davenports don’t do things that way. We run a fair race.”

Right. High standards and all. Because they had so many.

“Mom.” Cat lost the composure in her voice. She felt battered. Broken. And the hits had come from her own mother. “This hurt me. A lot. I care about him.”

“You can’t care about him.”

“I do.”

Her mother tried her lie again. “I didn’t do it.”

“You did, and you should be woman enough to admit it.”

The line went silent.

“You intervened years ago when you shouldn’t have. You convinced me that worry for my life and the life of my child had been your only concern—”

“It was my concern.”

“And now you’ve thrown me and Brody under the bus, all for the hope of a few votes.”

“I have to win this seat,” her mother stated with authority. “It’s a Davenport seat. It has been for years.”

“And it’s worth your relationship with your daughter?”

“You’re just being silly. This does not have to impact our relationship. I did what had to be done. Nothing looks bad on you.”

Cat’s nose burned with the tears that wanted to come out. Her throat ached. And she lowered her head in grief. Her mother was not the woman she’d always believed her to be.

“I’m going to tell him.” Cat’s words came out quiet.

“You’re going to what?” Her mother’s words rose an octave.

“I’m going to tell him about the baby. I should have told him back then. I should have guessed that you’d meddled with our relationship, that you were the cause of my broken heart. And I should have known you’d broken his heart right along with it. Because
you
don’t have a heart, Mother. I don’t know what runs through your blood, but it isn’t love.”

“Catherine.” Her mother sounded worried for the first time.

“You never even asked me if I wanted my child. You simply called up your friend and made plans to hide me away. Then you convinced me that it was what I wanted. That it was for the best.”

“It was for the best. I was thinking of you.”

“And we both know my opinion on that. But you can’t stop me this time.”

“Why tell him after all this time?” Leave it to her mother to try anyway. “She’s gone. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Her mother’s words made the tears fall. She spoke as if Annabelle had been nothing to her.

“I told you,” Cat managed to get out. “I care about him.”

“Don’t do it, Catherine.” There was true panic in her mother’s voice now. “It won’t solve anything.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“He’s a Harrison.”

“He is not a Harrison. And even if he was, you still had no right. You, of all people, should know that a person’s DNA does not make you who you are. Otherwise, who would Bennett be?”

Her mother sucked in a harsh breath.

Cat continued, “I suppose that’s a question you need to answer to my brother. I couldn’t care less. I’ll be telling Brody the truth about that, too. Just as soon as I see him again.”

“Why are you trying to ruin me?”

“I’m not trying to ruin you, Mother. You’ve done a good enough job of that yourself. I’m merely trying to right a few wrongs.”

Cat pressed the button to end the call without saying another word. Then she pulled up a number she’d tracked down the week before.

She’d called it the day before but had gotten no answer. She didn’t today, either.

She left another message on Patricia Weathers’s answering machine, asking her to call at her earliest convenience. She wanted to talk to Patricia before telling Brody about Annabelle. He deserved more than an, “I don’t know anything about our daughter.”

Cat hadn’t spoken to Patricia since the day she’d handed over her daughter and ridden to the airport with her mother. She hadn’t called when she’d found out that Annabelle had died because she hadn’t felt she had the right. Annabelle had been Patricia’s daughter then. And Cat had known Patricia was hurting over the loss. Probably as much as Cat. So she’d remained quiet.

But there were some things she had to know. What had happened to her little girl? What made her so sick? Had she been happy, even though she’d been sick? Were there pictures that Patricia could share?

These things had haunted Cat for eighteen years, and they would haunt Brody, too. So Cat had to try. She only prayed that her questions didn’t bring back too much pain for Patricia. After all, she’d lost a daughter, too.

Cat’s phone chimed immediately after she crawled into bed that night, and her heart fluttered in anticipation. She grabbed it before the light went out on the screen. It was a text from Brody.

The play was better tonight. Less paparazzi.

Good. Your mother still okay? Stone taking care of her?

Mom is great. Feels like a movie star with her security detail.

LOL. I’m glad she’s having fun with it.

Seriously, I think she’s got a crush. Did you have to send her such a good-looking guy?

And he’s almost her age. Tell her to go for it.

Don’t say that. It’s my mom.

Hey, she deserves some fun. How did Laura do tonight?

She did great. She’s picked up some of your habits. It’s almost like watching you. Only . . . it’s not.

Cat smiled at the message and pressed her phone to her heart.

Brody texted again before she could.
How are YOU?

She liked these quiet moments with him like this.
I’m fine. I talked to my mother today.

And how did that go?

About how you’d expect. There was a bit of an argument.
She chewed on her lip for a second before tapping out another message.
It was her. She leaked the story. I’m so sorry.

It seemed to take forever before her phone chimed again.

I’m sorry too. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.

I’ll survive.

There was another small delay as she stared intently at her phone. She jumped when it chimed.

What are you doing tomorrow?

Did he want to see her? Her pulse thudded at the thought.

Helping out at the park.

There’ll be paparazzi there. Be careful.

I will. I’ll have my own security detail with me. He’s even better looking than Stone.

Should I be jealous? You’re over there all alone with another man?

She smiled at the phone, then her fingers flew over the screen.

I actually have two men with me. Both hot.

She followed up with a smiley face, then held her breath as she asked a question.
What are we doing, Brody? Friends? More? Text buddies?

More. Definitely more.

Are you sure? Maybe your life could quiet back down if I’m not in the picture.

My life needs you in the picture.

Brody . . .

Cat . . .

She grinned at the phone again. She felt like a teenager.
My kids will be here Wednesday. They’re going to help with the park.

Good. You need your kids with you.

I do. I miss them.

She missed Brody, too, but she didn’t tell him. Instead she typed out another message.
Will you be at the park on Wednesday?

Do you want me at the park on Wednesday?

It’s a community thing, so . . .

It is. But do YOU want me there?

She wanted him there with her now. But she knew what he was asking. The same thing she was. If he came to the park, he would meet her kids.

She nodded as she typed out her response.

Yes.

Then I’ll be at the park on Wednesday. Talk to you in the morning? I could call after my run?

You’re not at your mom’s tonight?

I work tomorrow. And I need my jog.

You’ll be photographed.

Probably. Another reason to keep up my regimen. If I’m going to be in the tabloids, I want to look good.

He followed his message with a wink.

You already look good.

You too, Kitty Cat. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.

She slid deep under her covers and reread the last message. What they were doing scared her, but it felt right. They weren’t playing any longer. If they got back together, they would have to deal with the real world. Together.

But possibly have something really good come out of it, too.

She curled up on her side, holding the phone to her chest and closing her eyes. She’d take it one day at a time and see what happened next.

And tomorrow, Brody would be calling.

She was ready to hear his voice again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
HE HEADLINE IN
the papers Monday morning read, “Romeo and Juliet. How well do they really know each other?”

Below it was a picture of Brody and Cat as teens. She looked so cute with her “Rachel” haircut. Brody remembered how all the girls that summer had mimicked the character from
Friends
. If it hadn’t been the hair, it had been the clothes. Or both.

Such as the one-strap blue-jean overall shorts Cat had on in the picture. She’d worn a stretchy scrap of nothing underneath it, the material barely covering her breasts. It had driven him crazy every time she’d had it on.

Brody smiled at the picture. He had good memories of those times.

He picked up his phone and typed.

Great picture in the paper today.

I’m looking at it right now.

I liked that haircut.

The whole world liked that haircut. Except the woman who had it first. Did you go for your jog already?

I did. Having my breakfast right now. Have you done your yoga?

Following it up with my smoothie as we speak. I thought you were going to call me.

Brody grinned at her message. She wanted to talk to him.

Which was only fair, since he wanted to talk to her.

His fingers flew over the letters.
I decided this was more fun. Sexier.

If you say so.

A knock sounded at his front door, and he rose to head that direction. So far no photographer had been so bold as to come up to his house, but if one had—

His thoughts stopped midsentence as he peeked out the window and saw who stood on his front stoop. Thomas. In a suit.

Cat’s message from last night flashed in his mind.
My mom leaked the story.

Did that mean Thomas was here because he cared? Brody doubted it.

He also suspected that every camera still barricading his place had gotten a great shot of his brother walking up to his door.

He sent Cat a quick text.
Gotta run. Thomas just showed up.

Oh . . . Good luck.

He was unsure how best to approach this, but fully aware that whatever he did would be in tomorrow’s headlines. Meaning he probably shouldn’t drag the man out of his house and deposit him in his car.

“I’m on my way out,” he said at the same time that he let Thomas in. “I have a class at the museum in thirty minutes.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Of course he would. It would be a photo op.

Then Thomas stopped just inside the door and took Brody in. The two of them stood there, a foot separating them, eyeing each other as if unsure what to expect. What to do next. Which was exactly what Brody was feeling.

They’d never been the hugging type. They’d seen each other maybe six times in their lives. What were they supposed to do?

They continued to stare.

Thomas’s eyes weren’t the same color as Brody’s. He’d gotten his mother’s brown. But that didn’t mean Brody couldn’t see the family resemblance when he looked at him. In fact, the older they got, the more Brody saw it. He wanted to like that about them. They shared more than blood.

It should make him feel closer.

It didn’t.

All it did was make him wonder what Thomas’s angle was. Because Brody knew he had one. A Harrison always did.

This trip wasn’t about getting to know Brody. It was about Thomas.

Low clouds hung over the sky Tuesday morning, turning the ocean a hazy gray. The color made it appear as if the ocean and sky bled directly into each other as Cat sat on the balcony of her bedroom, overlooking the backyard.

It really was a lovely view. Not as nice as her beach house, but pretty in a different way. She could make out the inward swoop of a nearby beach—the space along this part of the coast was more rocky than sandy—as well as a lovely overlook just beyond the beach. She’d sat on the benches there many times as a kid.

It was a place she’d like to share with Brody.

She had her untouched smoothie on the small table in front of her, as well as the
Gazette
. She hadn’t made it past the front page.

Thomas Harrison and Brody had been photographed together at the museum.

Long-Lost Brothers, Found.

Her mother would be fuming. Clearly, she hadn’t been thinking straight when she’d leaked the story. Brody was
Arthur’s
son. Thomas “hadn’t known.” He could be the innocent party in this.

And if Brody didn’t stop him, Thomas would milk this right into the Senate seat.

She forced herself to turn the page. There was another photo of Brody. One that normally might not make the
Dyersport Gazette
, but she couldn’t blame the paper for including it.

It was him, shirtless, jogging on the beach. She picked up her phone and typed,
Nice picture on page two.
She smiled and slumped down in her seat.

Isn’t it? I was just admiring that myself.

You look good. They got your good side.

LOL. Do I have a bad side?

No.

I miss you, Cat.

I miss you, too.

Thomas is staying here with me.

And how’s that going? Brotherly?

I fear you might have been right.

No . . . my mother was the one to leak it. I’m certain.

Not the story. Using it as PR.

Oh . . . I’m sorry.

I suggested he get a hotel, but they’re full.

Of paparazzi, I would imagine.

Pictures must pay well. A beachfront room for a week isn’t cheap.

She changed the subject with her next text.
Paper says the play is back on track. You called Searcy yet?

No.

Your stubbornness will be the death of you.

More like, YOU will be the death of me. Did I mention that I miss you?

I seem to recall something about that.

Did I mention how much?

No. You definitely did not mention how much.

Tons. Which got me to thinking . . .

Yeah?
Cat held her breath as she waited, wondering what he’d been thinking.

And wondering how much she’d like it.

Her phone beeped out a reply.
I could come over after the play tonight. Miss you in person.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and another text came in before she could get her fingers to moving.

You okay with that?

She nodded.
I am. Don’t be followed.

Count on it.

They said good-bye, and Cat placed another call to California. Patricia still hadn’t called her back.

When there was no answer at the house, Cat used her phone to search the San Francisco area where Patricia lived. She didn’t remember the name of the clinic where her mother’s friend had once worked, but a few words in a search engine and the office came up.

She tapped the number and placed the call.

And, of course, got a messaging service. It was three hours earlier on the West Coast.

“I’d like to leave a message for Dr. Weathers, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. But Dr. Weathers is out for the week. Can I take a message for another doctor?”

Relief filled Cat as it occurred to her that she’d been terrified Patricia was simply avoiding her calls.

“Do you know if she’s in town?” Cat asked.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Did you want to leave a message for one of our doctors?”

“I’d like to leave one for Dr. Weathers, please. In case she calls in to check her messages.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll switch you over to her voice mail.”

Cat quickly left her name and number, asking Patricia to call as soon as she could. Brody was coming over tonight, and he would be meeting her kids tomorrow. She had to tell him, with or without hearing from Patricia first. Time had run out.