I rolled over and tried not to think about how different it all would have been if my mom had lived.
Thinking about my father was a mistake because it made him materialize on my doorstep late the next evening.
I was going through all the junk mail on my way up to my apartment. It was after eight and I still had a ton of work to do—mostly on my secret mission. (I found that if I thought of it like I was a super spy it made the whole thing more bearable.) But as I rounded the corner after the last flight of stairs there he was, sitting in front of my door, his legs spread out in front of him.
“Katie bug.” He beamed at me and hopped up. “Give your old man a hug.”
He wrapped me in his arms and for a moment I was five again and my daddy was king of the world.
Mom and I used to wait for him to come home, peeking out the window. When he drove up to our home, we’d run to greet him. He’d lift me into his arms as he kissed my mom and we’d move into the family room, me curled on his lap and my mom curled next to him. He’d tell us stories from his day at the brokerage—funny stories about his odd clients—that made us giggle uncontrollably.
I burrowed into his chest, imagining him as the conquering hero returning home. Like he used to be before my mom died and he started drinking.
And then I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I pulled away and really looked at him. His hair was unkempt with a dull, dirty cast, his clothes had that wrinkled look like he’d been wearing them for days, and his eyes—the same color as mine—were bloodshot.
Why did I always think things would change? This Pollyanna optimism had to be my most unattractive feature. Next to my frizzy auburn hair, that is.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Dad.” I unlocked the door and let him enter before I did.
“Can’t a man visit his only offspring?” He walked straight for the old couch Luc gave me (if it weren’t for Luc’s castoffs I’d have no furniture). He tossed his coat onto the floor and plopped down.
“So you just came here to visit?” I picked up his coat and draped it across the arm of the couch.
“Well ... you know. That and a bit of business.”
I felt my shoulders knot up more than they already were. “Business?” I asked, knowing exactly what kind of business brought him here out of the blue. I set my Coach bag on the rickety coffee table and huddled in the chair across from him. The thought that my suit coat was becoming horribly wrinkled flitted across my mind, but I didn’t care. I needed the warmth, even if its lining was wearing away as we spoke.
“We can get to that later. First tell your old dad what you’ve been up to.” He craned his neck and looked around. “I see you haven’t settled in yet. You’ve lived here, what, five years?”
“Seven.”
“I’ll have to bring some pictures over sometime.” He grinned. “Can’t have you forget what your parents look like, can I?”
“I’d never forget what you look like, Dad.” My stomach rumbled. I ignored it. It wasn’t like it’d eat itself. It’d only digest itself if it stopped producing its protective layer of mucus.
“You’re hungry. How about if I whip together a little dinner for us?” He jumped up. “Just like the old days.”
I instantly started to salivate thinking about his mac and cheese. He used to make it every Sunday night, and it was creamy and delicious. My mom used to say his mac and cheese was so spectacular it warranted getting dressed up, so while he cooked we fixed our hair in fancy upsweeps and put on our best dresses. I even got to wear a little lipstick.
But those days were gone, and all I had in my cupboards was tuna fish and Top Ramen. “That’s okay. I just wanted to go to bed tonight. I’m tired.”
“You gotta eat, Katie bug.” He wagged his finger at me. “You’re wasting away.”
Actually, I chose to think of it as my fitness regimen. Why pay someone good money to put you on a strict diet? “So, what’s going on with you, Dad?”
“You know. A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”
Right.
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Shit. I braced myself.
“I’m in this bit of a spot and need to borrow some money.” He quickly hurried on, as if he wanted to get all his thoughts out before I interrupted. “It’s the last time—I swear. I’ve learned my lesson. I’d take care of this myself but Ivan is really leaning on me—”
I groaned. “Ivan again, Dad?”
“I know. I know. But I was on a winning streak, and I had this incredible hand.” He held up his hands like he still had the cards in them. “Who would have guessed Ivan would have a royal flush?”
“How much is it this time?”
He ducked his head and mumbled into his chest.
“What?” I frowned. “How much did you say?”
He said it more clearly this time.
I almost fell out of my chair. “Dad!”
He sighed and looked at me mournfully. “I had such a great hand.”
I briefly entertained the thought of letting Ivan tie my dad to the train tracks again. But only for a second.
Okay, maybe for a touch more. But that’s all. I swear.
Sighing, I reached for my purse.
“God bless you, Katie bug.” He smiled in relief. “I knew you’d come through for me.”
I wanted to growl but I just smiled and got my checkbook out.
“How’s Luc?”
I looked up with narrowed eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering. He’s still your friend, isn’t he?”
I stared at him a moment longer before going back to writing out the check. “Yes, he’s still my friend.”
“Always liked that boy.” He tapped his foot against the table. “I’m surprised he hasn’t snapped you up yet.”
“He wouldn’t go for me, Dad,” I said absently as I filled in the date.
“You’re a girl. Of course he’d go for you. He’s not queer, is he?”
“Dad!”
“Unless he’s a flaming fruit, you’re his type. Trust me.”
Like I was going to listen to advice from a man who hadn’t had a relationship in over twenty years. I shook my head, took a deep breath, and forced myself to write in the amount. With each zero I added, my home moved further out of my reach.
I’d just have to work harder to find Lydia a sperm donor. With the increase in pay the promotion would bring, I could make up this setback in no time.
“You know, Luc has my blessing should he pop the question.”
“
Dad!
”
“What?” he asked innocently.
I sighed. There was no point in trying to explain to him that Luc was my best friend. You don’t date friends. Especially your best friend. When things don’t work out, you’d not only be out a date but also the person who means the most to you.
“Here.” I handed him the check. “But next time—”
“I promise, Katie bug. No more.” He made a cross over his heart. He looked at the check and grinned. “You’re an angel, honey. I owe you big for this.”
God, did he ever.
“Well, I should be off.” He bounced up and grabbed his coat. Carefully, he folded the check and put it in his pocket. He smiled at me and dropped a kiss on my forehead. “I swear this is the last time, Katie bug.”
If only I had a dime for every time I heard that one.
Chapter Five
“Why do I have to be here?”
Luc held fast to my arm as I tried to back away from the art gallery’s front door. “Don’t you have to turn in a list to your boss by tomorrow morning?”
I pouted.
“Well, this is a great place to meet men.”
“It is?” I couldn’t help the suspicious note in my voice. I had the feeling Luc had ulterior motives for getting me there.
“Hell yeah. Guys go trolling for women in galleries all the time.”
“They do?”
“Sure.”
Call me skeptical, but I had doubts. Still, I let him drag me through the door.
The second we entered Zar Gallery, champagne-drinking intellectuals with perfect hair and expensive clothes closed in around us.
“I can’t do this.” I turned on my heels and tried to leave.
“Kat.” Luc grabbed me around the waist.
“I can’t do this.” I tried to pry off his arm but it was like a steel vise. Massage work sure does make a person buff.
“What do you mean?” He pulled me closer and soothed my back. “Jesus, Kat, you’re tense.”
No kidding. “Did you know when opossums play possum they aren’t playing? They actually pass out from sheer terror.”
He looked around. “There’re a lot of people here, but it’s not that bad.”
“Not if you’re a sardine,” I murmured. “Then it’s almost roomy.”
Luc laughed, uninhibited and bright. Several people around us turned to look. The women’s gazes lingered so long I had to glare to get them to stop visually mauling Luc.
“Come on. You fit in just right.” He didn’t say
for a change
, but I could hear it in his voice.
I straightened my suit coat and smoothed back a curl that had gotten loose from my chignon. “I don’t know—”
“Don’t chicken out.” He smiled and took my hand. How was it his hands were always so warm? “I want you to meet my friend Gary.”
I sighed. “After I meet Gary, if I’m really uncomfortable, I can leave?”
He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. “If you’re really uncomfortable, we’ll both go. I’ll take you to dinner.”
I perked up. “You will?”
“Would I lie?”
No, he wouldn’t. And Luc liked to eat, so when he said he’d take me to dinner he didn’t mean McDonald’s.
Going out to eat was a treat. That it was with Luc made it doubly so, and that it’d probably be his favorite Italian restaurant was icing on a rich double-chocolate cake.
I never went out to eat. With my dream of owning a home, I saved every dime, nickel, and penny that I earned. Literally. So I lived in my shoebox of an apartment in the worst part of town, never went out, and ate Top Ramen and tuna fish all the time.
Okay, maybe not all the time. Sometimes Safeway would have specials on Campbell’s soup, or frozen dinners, and I’d stock up. And one of the benefits of living where I did was the inexpensive produce. I could buy oranges (avoiding scurvy was important) and lettuce in bulk for pretty cheap. Rice too—a twenty-pound bag of rice lasted forever.
Luc steered me expertly through the thick crowd. Every now and then someone would greet him. He never stopped but he always replied back warmly. I kept my eyes down so I wouldn’t get overwhelmed.
“You need a glass of champagne,” Luc said in my ear.
I shook my head. “You know I can’t handle alcohol.”
“One glass won’t kill you. And you might loosen up enough to enjoy yourself.”
I shook my head again. I didn’t need to loosen up. It was unfair to put me in a foreign environment and expect me to be okay. I mean, you wouldn’t expect that of a lion, would you?
Besides, the heat from his body was lulling me. I didn’t need champagne when Luc’s warmth went straight to my head.
“Your list is due tomorrow,” he reminded me. “If you loosen up, you’ll be able to add at least a couple more names to it.”
Good point. I wondered if they’d let me have the whole bottle instead of just a glass.
We made it across the room, and I took a deep breath. Over here it wasn’t quite so crowded. It gave me a chance to study everyone. Most were dressed in black—the rich black of expensively dyed material. The amount of jewelry in the room could take care of the national debt of a large Third-World country.
Or help me buy a house.
Not that I’d go there. Really.
“Here.” Luc shoved a glass in my hand.
I frowned at it. “Are you sure?”
“Only you would look at champagne like it’s poison. Just take a sip.”
I did—tentatively. It shot straight up my nose and made me choke.
At least Luc rubbed my back while he laughed. It made me less inclined to pulverize him.
“Luc! Good to see you, man.”
A burly biker guy with a Fu Manchu walked up to us with a wide smile.
Hmm. Did a Fu Manchu count as a goatee?
“Gary, my man.” Luc and Gary did that man handshake thing that mystifies me. They talked a little bit more but I didn’t hear a word they said—I was distracted by Gary’s laser blue eyes.
Wow. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Even bluer than Luc’s, and that was saying something. I absently took another sip of champagne. They had to make up for the fact that his goatee wasn’t a goatee, right? I reached into my purse to drag out my handheld computer but stopped, knowing Luc wouldn’t approve.
“—my best friend, Katherine. Kat, Gary is the artist exhibiting.”
I jumped when Gary’s humongous paw engulfed my free hand. “Pleased to meet you, Katherine. Luc’s told me a lot about you.”
“Oh.” What did that mean? “Did you know Van Gogh didn’t cut off his whole ear? He just cut the tip. But he did give it to a woman. A prostitute he frequented, actually.”
I didn’t have to look at Luc to know he was rolling his eyes.
Gary, on the other hand, looked rapt. He held my hand tighter. “I love this woman, Luc.”
“Don’t we all,” Luc muttered.
I shot him an evil glare for the sarcastic comment and turned to smile brilliantly at Gary. He had the right color eyes, facial hair, was talented (I suppose—I hadn’t looked at any of his work yet) and obviously quite intelligent. The perfect candidate for Lydia. “Are you married?”
Luc spewed the champagne he was drinking onto his friend, who didn’t seem to mind. Gary swiped at his chest a couple times, a bemused look on his face. “No, I’m not married.”
Yes! This was my lucky night.
“But that’s my boyfriend over there.”
I blinked and automatically glanced at the slight, pretty man he pointed out.
“Oh.” Damn. And he would have been so perfect too.
I glared at Luc. Why did he insist I meet Gary? He had to know his friend was gay.
“Katherine”—Gary squeezed my hand—“promise me we’ll chat later. I want to talk to you about a project.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know anything about art.”
He grinned and patted the hand he held captive. He began to make me uncomfortable with his too-vivid gaze. “She’s just fascinating, Luc. You were right. She’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
I gave Luc a questioning look, but he gave away nothing. Mona Lisa could have taken lessons from him, his smile was so enigmatic.
“Don’t leave without finding me,” Gary said, releasing my hand. He walked away, waving madly, before I could formulate a reply. “Lars! So glad you could make it.”
I watched him shake hands with a tall, thin man who looked like he was going to cave under Gary’s grip. “Luc, where’d you meet him?”
“Remember Jenny?”
I wrinkled my nose. I wished I could forget the last in Luc’s long line of gorgeous, tall girlfriends. “Kind of.”
“Well, she was into art.”
Of course she was. I resisted the urge to gag by taking a swig of my champagne.
A horrifying thought occurred to me. “Tell me she’s not going to be here tonight.”
Luc laughed. He trailed a finger down my cheek. “The expression on your face is priceless, squirt.”
Frowning, I batted his hand away. “Don’t call me that.”
I looked around. There was no way I was going to be able to approach any of the men here. I mean, they were perfect—exactly what Lydia would want: well off, intelligent, and cultured. But approaching them? My stomach cringed at the thought.
I wished I weren’t here. I wished I’d never gotten this stupid assignment. I wished I’d never heard of Lydia Ashworth and her stupid company.
“I told you.”
“What?” I wrinkled my nose at him. What was he talking about?
He pointed at my glass. “The champagne. I knew you’d like it.”
I looked down. Oh wow. It was all gone.
“Can I get you more?”
Very tempting. Exceedingly tempting. “No, thank you.”
Luc shrugged. “I see a friend over there. Want to come with me or do you want to look around at Gary’s paintings?”
I looked to where he pointed. Ick—another tall blonde. Surprise, surprise. “I’ll take a look around.”
He squeezed my hand. “Calm down, squirt. If you relax you’ll be fine.”
Right. I tried to smile at him reassuringly but by the way he rolled his eyes I gathered I didn’t succeed. He shook his head and walked off. I resisted the urge to grab his jacket and scream
don’t leave me!
I bit my lip. Yeah, maybe I’d take a look at Gary’s work.
Turning around, I stared at the painting right behind me. It was an oil painting, eight feet by six feet (I read that on the little placard to its right). It was predominantly white but in the top left corner there was a giant red splotch.
I stepped closer. I stepped back. I squinted my eyes. Shaking my head, I murmured, “It looks like a big red blob on a white background.”
Someone laughed right behind me. Someone masculine, judging by the sound. I grimaced. Did he hear my comment? He was probably laughing at someone else.
Whoever it was moved to my side. “I was just thinking the same thing. Except I called it a splatter.”
Oh God. I can’t believe someone heard me. I bit my lip. Maybe if I ignored him he’d go away.
No such luck. “A ‘splatter’ is a touch more accurate, don’t you think?”
I wrinkled my nose and studied the painting again. “Actually, I think ‘blob’ is more fitting. It’s—” I turned to him and everything I was about to say flew out of my mouth in the face of his two dimples and his eyes. “I never knew so many people in the world had blue eyes. Though I know blue is the most common eye color, followed by brown.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Is that so?”
“So help me.” I held up two fingers like a good scout.
He laughed again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at an opening here.”
The words popped out of my mouth without thought. “Do you come to all of them?”
“No, I guess I don’t.” His brows furrowed—not in displeasure but in puzzlement—and he held his hand out. “I’m Joseph Bailey.”
“Katherine Murphy.”
His shake was firm, warm but not sweaty. He leaned closer to me. “Katherine Murphy, you’re intriguing.”
“Ha!” Oops—I clapped my hand over my mouth. That slipped out.
Joseph grinned. “I can’t believe you’re here alone.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh.”
I pointed to Luc, who was listening raptly to the blonde (the bitch). “With my friend Luc.”
“Oh!” He grinned. “Well, that’s great.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It is?”
“Yes. For me, at least.” He took my elbow and moved closer to me to protect me from a couple who tried to run me down. “What made you come here tonight?”
I shrugged. “Luc said it was a good place to meet men.”
His beautiful sea blue eyes widened.
I giggled—I couldn’t help it. It was comical. I patted his arm. “And I found you, so it was worth the torture.”
“It was torture?”
I nodded. “I can’t stand crowds. In case you haven’t been able to tell, I’ve got terrible social skills. Completely lacking, really. You’re lucky I haven’t quoted many facts at you yet.” I sighed. “But give me some time.”
Joseph threw his head back and laughed, long and loud, attracting everyone’s attention. The entire gallery went quiet for the span of two seconds and I felt my cheeks flush a deep red that matched the blouse I wore.
“Stop it.” I slapped his arm. “You’re making a spectacle.”
“That’s not all I’m making.” He tightened his grip on my arm. I didn’t care, not as long as he kept the laughing to a dull roar. “Why were you looking for a man?”