The Groom (10 page)

Lyle had been staring at her
silently through her little speech, his lips parted slightly as if awed by her
admission. After a few moments, he grinned.

“It’s not bad, but next time we
go out, I get to choose where.”

“I’ll be sure to eat some real
food beforehand then,” she joked. Inwardly, she wondered at his mention of next
time. She’d been practically insulting him to his face all night and he wanted
to eat with her again. With the way things had been going in her life lately,
Katrina didn’t know if she should be thrilled or scared.

_____

“Damn, it’s raining.”

Lyle paused in the doorway of the
now empty restaurant, squinting in an attempt to see through the slanted sheet
of rain pelting the paved parking lot. The other customers who’d left ahead of
them dashed toward their cars, heads ducked low, making their way through the
dark blanket that was the last of the night left before dawn. Katrina brushed
past him through the doorway with a squeal of delight, her boots splashing
through half an inch of water as she flew out into the rain without a moment’s
hesitation. Holding her arms out to her sides, she smiled and laughed,
seemingly oblivious to the soaking her hair and clothes were suffering.

“What are you doing, you’ll get
sick!” he called through cupped hands, wondering if she could hear him through
the downpour.

She spun in a slow circle and
turned to face him again. “I got sick once,” she said, her face suddenly
serious as she walked toward him, heedless to the heavy curtain of hair now
plastered to her back, neck, and shoulders. Water droplets ran down her face
and dripped from her chin, falling into the neckline of her strapless top. It
clung to her, outlining the curve of her breasts way too clearly. A lump rose
in his throat at the sight. “It was the sickest I’d ever been, and I was in a
facility to get help, locked in a room with no windows to the outside until I
got better.”

“Rehab,” Lyle whispered, reaching
impulsively for her arm. He turned the limb over and eyed the needle marks he’d
noticed dotting the inside of her left arm the night he’d stitched her up. “You
were a heroin addict.”

She nodded, and while Lyle had
expected to see shame in her eyes, he was happy to see nothing of the sort.
Katrina stared straight into his eyes, as proud of the scars of her past as she
was her guitar and sparkly boots.

“Did six months at Mountain
View,” she answered, gazing down to where his fingertip traced the jagged lines
marring her coffee-and-cream skin. He remained under the diner’s awning,
avoiding most of the downpour that was soaking Katrina. But as she spoke, he
found his feet moving of their own volition, until the rain was soaking him
too, plastering his hair to his forehead and his clothes to his body. “In the
beginning, while I was going through withdrawal, I thought I was going to die.
I wanted to quit cold turkey and even though they advised me not to, I was
determined. I didn’t want another needle to touch my skin, or their diluted
substitutes to wean me off. I wanted to be free.”

“How could you stand it?” He
asked, acutely aware of the wonder in his tone. He’d seen what drug addiction
could do to the body and mind. Despite those dangers, he knew people who were
addicted to drugs often didn’t care. The escape it offered was more important
than anything else.

“I thought of the rain,” she
answered with a smile, the brilliant white of her teeth flashing in the dark.
“I thought of the sky and the smell of the air after a storm. On nights when I
was shivering and sweating, chained to my bed so I couldn’t hurt myself, I told
myself that I needed to hold on. I refused to give up and die before I’d had
the chance to feel summer rain on my skin or run my fingers over guitar strings
again.”

“So that’s how you do it,” he
mused, his free hand coming up to clasp her other one. His chest swelled as he
watched tiny droplets of water slide over the contours of her face.

“Do what?” she asked, eyebrows
furrowing in confusion.

“Live everyday like it’s new. Get
so excited about the little things. I didn’t understand before but now I think
I get it.”

“My brother’s death led me to an
overdose, which scared me into rehab,” she admitted. “After that I promised
myself that I would live. I shrugged off my father’s mantle and decided to live
every day for me. So, I don’t worry much about eating right or avoiding
mistakes. The way I see it, if one of those things kills me, then at least I’ll
die happy. It’s not hard, you know.”

Lyle’s shoulders sagged as he
remembered his wedding day and watching a dark-haired Lothario swoop in to
steal his bride.
He
probably knew all about what Katrina was saying.
Lyle, however, hadn’t the slightest idea how a person went about living in such
a way.

“I’m not that guy,” he said,
echoing the words he’d said to Holly at their last meeting. And he wasn’t. He’d
been taught his whole life that “that guy” was irresponsible and foolish.

“I think you are,” she said,
swaying close and gripping his forearms tightly. Lyle swallowed noisily, frozen
in her stare. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Lyle’s smile was wry and
self-mocking. He didn’t respond with words. He didn’t need to. Katrina saw his
doubt.

“Close your eyes,” she said,
smiling encouragingly. At his bemused expression, she scoffed and shook him
lightly, not loosening her grip on his arms. “Come on, just do it! You promised
to prove how cool and loose you are to me. Remember?”

With a chuckle and a shake of his
head, he did as she asked. For a long while, she did nothing, said nothing.
They simply stood, clutching each other like two ships battered in a storm
while warm rain pelted them from either side. Colorful lines and bursts of
color danced behind his eyelids. Soon, he could feel every individual droplet
as it made contact with his skin, rolling down the back of his neck and into
his clothes.

“Can’t you feel that?” she asked,
her breath brushing his cheek. Lyle inhaled and stiffened as he realized she’d
drawn even closer. Now, the smell of rain mingled with those of exotic spices
and guava, a scent he was learning was all her own. He exhaled and could
practically feel her smiling, her lips inches from his face. “You can,” she
said, sounding satisfied.

He could.

It was as if every inch of him
had suddenly taken a deep breath. He felt cleansed and invigorated as if he’d
just been doused by the waters of Niagara Falls. Lyle had gone with his family
once as a kid and taken a boat beneath the falls, a rite of passage for those
who visited. Even that didn’t compare to this, standing in the middle of a
parking lot with no more than a lit diner sign and a few street lamps
illuminating the night and a peculiar girl with the voice of an angel in front
of him.

“This is what it feels like,” she
said, her voice gone low and husky. “Freedom. Being what you want to be,
whenever and wherever you want. There’s nothing like it.”

He opened his eyes, and his
vision was filled by her. His eyes traced the fan of dark lashes rimming her
deep, dark eyes before sliding over the curve of her nose and lips.

“Haven’t you ever just acted
impulsively?” she asked. “Drove too fast, sang too loud, danced in the rain?”

Lyle didn’t even have to think
about it. He answered without hesitation. “No.”

Her lips twisted into an
expression of pity, and Lyle felt ashamed that she felt sorry for him. For all
intents and purposes, a man in his position should feel sorry for her. Yet, for
all that Lyle had, he envied Katrina the one thing he did not have.

“Why don’t you try it?” she
coaxed, her mischievous smile reappearing. “Right now, right this second, do or
say the first thing that comes to your mind. Don’t be afraid.”

He was afraid. In fact, he
couldn’t remember ever being more terrified in his life. Facing his father’s
anger when he’d chosen medical school over law school, taking his MCAT and then
the boards to become a surgeon after finishing his residency, even his wedding
day had not petrified him like this moment. But he couldn’t avoid it, not even
with every sensible fiber of his being screaming at him to act like a responsible
adult. Just then what he wanted had nothing to do with sensibility, logic or
reason.

But he did it anyway.

She gasped when he grasped her by
the waist tightly, pulling her body flush against his. One hand came up to the
back of her neck to tangle in her hair as the other pressed insistently at the
small of her back, holding her captive to every impulse he’d ever had and
ignored since the first time he saw her singing at Parson’s. He sank into her
now with a sigh of relief, his muscles turning to mush and his bones to jelly
as he lowered his head to hers.

The kiss was neither gentle nor
tentative. The second his lips touched hers, something in him reacted, as if he
had kissed this woman before . . . or, as if he had been born to kiss this
woman and only her. Her luscious lips melded against his perfectly, and her
hands found their way into his hair as their mouths danced together. He sighed
against her lips as her fingertips found a sensitive spot on the back of his
neck in a caress that he had never known could cause electricity to shoot out
from his scalp and envelop his entire body.

His hands tightened, his fingers
bunching the supple leather hugging her torso and scrunching the wet curls at
the back of her head. Lyle’s feet began moving as her tongue swept the inside
of his mouth, bathing his palette with her taste. He groaned in response,
finding relief from the building tension in his groin by pressing her up
against the car, holding her hips captive with his and grinding against her in
the most primitive of impulses. His hands loosened their hold on her shirt and
hair and found her face, traced the contours of her neck and shoulders, skimmed
her breasts and ribs before finding her hips again. His fingers dug into the
soft, feminine flesh as her tongue mated with his, small moans of pleasure and
surprise dancing from his tongue to hers, a duet of longing and need.

When they finally pulled apart,
her hands were fisted around the fabric of his shirt and her breath was sawing
in and out of her lungs rapidly, a match for his own racing gasps. His chest
burned, but not for lack of oxygen. It was for lack of her, of the nourishment
he didn’t know his soul had needed until his lips touched hers. The intensity
of that need scared him, yet for all the fear coursing through his blood he
couldn’t find it in himself to step away.

Katrina watched him through wide
eyes, the lashes spiked and wet, her lips parted, reddened and swelling from
his bruising kiss. He watched her through strands of wet hair falling into his
eyes as the rain slowly abated around them, drawing back into the clouds as the
first rays of the sun peaked out from behind pink and orange clouds.

After a few moments of silence,
Katrina released his shirt and smoothed the soaked fabric. She turned her face
up toward him with an impish grin.

“Oh, Mister Bond, how reckless of
me. I made you all wet.”

Lyle’s smile was wide and he
didn’t miss a beat. He called up his perfect Bond imitation as he tightened his
arm around her, bringing her in for another scorching kiss. “Yes, but my
martini is still dry.”

_________

“SURE YOU
DON’T want to come up?”

Lyle smiled as he closed the
passenger door of his car behind Katrina, who had just climbed out with guitar
case in hand. By the time he’d gotten her back across town to her apartment,
the sun had risen and brought the city streets to life. His car idled on the
curb, but there was a parking garage around the corner. Her offer was tempting.

“As much as I’d love that, I
really need to get a few hours of sleep. I’m on call today.”

She seemed disappointed but
smiled brilliantly anyway. Her hair was halfway dry and had started to frizz a
bit. The sun made it shimmer with golden highlights. Her still-red lips sent
heat rushing straight to his sex as he remembered kissing her and pressing her
body up against the car. He’d curbed that one impulse at least, deciding it
would be tacky to take her up against the side of his car.

“Look, I don’t want you to think
I’m pressuring you into anything serious,” she said, leaning into him and
straightening the limp collar of his shirt. “But you intrigue me, Lyle. I
thought you were a working stiff and not at all my type. Now I’m thinking
there’s more to you than meets the eye. I’d very much like to get to know the guy
who likes to kiss in the rain.”

He laughed, capturing her hand,
bringing it to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “
I’d
like
to know him too. I find myself acting very out of character when you’re around.
And, I’m not avoiding you, I really am on call. They could call me in at any
moment and I was up all night singing in bars and eating crappy diner food.”

“You didn’t sing,” she reminded
him pointedly.

“Not the point.”

She nodded. “Okay. I believe you.
I just don’t want you to feel awkward about what happened at Fifth Avenue. I’ve
only been clean six months, and I’m just trying to make my way one day at a
time. I don’t make plans, and I don’t like to put labels on things.”

Lyle had always made plans, and
he’d spent most of life plotting and putting labels on things. Her way sounded
vastly more appealing. “Then we won’t make plans, and I’ll throw away my label
maker,” he quipped, another smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He
couldn’t remember when he’d smiled more. He couldn’t remember the last time
he’d laughed so much. Probably never. She smiled back.

“Sounds good to me. See you when
I see you then, Dr. Lyle.”

He leaned in for one last kiss,
reluctant to leave her so soon after having tasted her for the first time. It
was as addictive as any drug that existed, more potent than morphine.

The blood rushing in his ears
kept him from hearing the sounds of screams and gasps as a black sedan sped off
the road in their direction. He hardly had time to register what was happening
before a bulky body slammed into his. The force of his shoulder and hip hitting
the sidewalk rattled his bones as a cacophony of sounds assaulted his ears.

When he looked up from where he
lay sprawled near the curb, he found Katrina buried under another bulky body,
pinned to the sidewalk. The one who’d plowed into him was dusting off a brown
bomber jacket, his coal black eyes piercing Lyle’s murderously. The black sedan
backed away, bouncing over the curb it had jumped before careening off down the
street, dodging cars and pedestrians recklessly before disappearing behind the
corner. A second car sped off after it in pursuit.

Lyle leaped to his feet and raced
to Katrina’s side, his heart racing as he realized the curb-jumping car had
almost hit them. A man in a tight, white T-shirt and jeans, his vicious scowl
just as deadly as the first guy, stepped between Lyle and Katrina as she stood
to her feet, wide eyes darting back and forth between them and the site of her
near accident.

“Excuse me, she’s with me,” Lyle
said, a hard edge stealing the politeness from his tone. “I’m a doctor. I
should see if she’s hurt.”

“She’s fine,” the man in the
T-shirt said, his upper lip curled menacingly away from his teeth, a thick,
Italian accent wrapped around his words. “She don’t need no doctor. She’s got
us, we’re her family, and we’ll take care of her.”

Jaw clenched, Lyle locked eyes
with Katrina over the short, wide asshole’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” he
asked, raking his eyes over her from head to toe to see for himself. Her beloved
boots were scuffed beyond repair and there was a red, angry scrape on her bare
shoulder, but she seemed otherwise fine, just a little shaken.

“I’m fine,” she assured him as
the guy who’d tackled Lyle bent to retrieve her guitar case, which had gone
flying into the road. Luckily, it hadn’t been run over by the other cars on the
street. “You should go,” she said. “I’ll be fine, really. Talk later?”

Lyle hesitated. Just a moment
ago, she’d been asking him to stay. Now she wanted him to leave. However, he
remembered what she said about her father being Italian. The jerk with the
accent had referred to himself as her family. If that was the case, he probably
should leave and check up on her later. Not much else could happen to her
between here and her building.

“Fine,” he said, leaving no doubt
that he wasn’t happy about leaving. “I’ll go. I’ll call you.”

She nodded silently as he
retreated back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. By the time he’d
rolled his window down to check on her once more, she and her companions had
disappeared into the building.

_____

“You can stay, Sandro, but the
goon squad has to go.”

Katrina speared the three brawny
soldiers standing near the entrance to her apartment with a glare. Their
presence here only reminded her of things she wanted to forget. She was rattled
enough without them adding to it.

Alessandro waved a dismissive
hand at his entourage and they disappeared without a word. Katrina didn’t doubt
that they planned to stick close by. For once, she felt oddly comforted by the
knowledge that someone was looking out for her. If they hadn’t been nearby,
there was no telling what could have happened to her or Lyle.

Once they were gone, Alessandro
approached her, grasping her shoulders gently but firmly and lowering her onto
the couch. She hadn’t realized she was still standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, rubbing
her arms briskly. Despite the warm summer air wafting through her open windows
she had goose bumps.

She shook her head. “No, I’m
fine, really.”

He nodded. “Do you need
anything?”

“No.”

“Good.” He stood and faced her,
his expression twisting into one of anger and disappointment. “Because I might
just kill you myself for being so stupid!”

Katrina’s mouth fell open, and
she stammered for a minute before finding her words as well as her footing.
“What the hell is your problem?” she challenged, jabbing him in the chest with
her index finger.

He swatted her hand away. “You,
Gattina! You are my problem. You don’t make my job any easier by running around
all night and letting that blond prick put his tongue down your throat.”

Her eyes widened and she pursed
her lips knowingly. “So that’s it. Feeling a little jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous!” he
growled, thrusting a hand through his dark hair. “But that has nothing to do
with how mad I am at you for putting yourself in danger. What part of ‘lay low’
don’t you understand?”

“I’m not hiding,” she ground out
from between clenched teeth, fists balled up at her sides. “What part of that
don’t
you
understand?”

He muttered under his breath in
Italian for a few seconds before he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in
aggravation. “Gattina, forgive me for this. But you cannot possibly be this
stupid. The Pirellis don’t care if you’re not involved with Victor’s business
anymore. Don’t you see? They want you because they know how hard Carmine’s
death was for him. Your mama is gone. You and your Nona are all he has left,
and your death would kill him.”

“Good!” she spat, anger welling
up in her so quickly she hardly had time to register it before she was spewing
it at him. “It would serve him right to suffer after all he’s put his family
through. My mother . . . my brother . . . they died because ‘the Family’ meant
more to him than they did.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s true, Sandro, don’t try to
tell me it isn’t. Power, money, and respect. Those are the things that drive
Victor. If he cares anything about me now, it’s only because he sees me as his
last chance to make up for his sins. Let me tell you, I’m not interested in
becoming his favorite mistake. He can’t fix me, or try to take care of me after
all he’s done.”

Alessandro sighed, his shoulders
slumping as if the air had been let out of him. “You are a stubborn woman.
That, you get from Victor, whether you like it or not. If you don’t care about
how your death would affect Victor, think about the other people in your life.
What about your Nona? Hmmm? What about me?”

Her heart broke at his forlorn
expression. “Sandro—”

“What about your friend, huh? The
blond doctor who kisses you in front of your building? Don’t you care anything
about him?”

Katrina stiffened. Of course she
cared about Lyle. More than she should. She shrugged and tried to appear
nonchalant. “I barely know him,” she said flippantly, though her pulse was
hammering as she remembered just how close he’d come to being hurt too. “It is
nothing.”

Alessandro snorted. “Didn’t look
like nothing to me. You are in denial about a lot of things, Gattina. I only
hope you get smart about this Pirelli business sooner rather than later.
Leaving the country is the only option.”

“Noted,” she said, brushing past
him to head for her bedroom. She only had a few hours until she had to get to
her day job, and she was exhausted. “Lock up when you leave.”

“I’m not leaving!” he shouted as
she slammed the door in his face.

“Then don’t eat all my chips!”
she screamed back with a small smirk, remembering her ex’s predilection for
potato chips. She may not admit it to his face, but as she curled up on the bed
and pulled the blankets over her head, she found comfort in his presence. He
might be overbearing and part of a world Katrina no longer wanted to be
involved in, but he was loyal and would remain true to his word to protect her.

As she closed her eyes, lulled to
drowsiness by the sounds of the city outside her window, Lyle’s face popped
into her mind. He’d been so adorable last night, trying his best to prove that
he wasn’t uptight. He hadn’t proven a damned thing, but Katrina still enjoyed
his company. And that kiss.

She shivered and squirmed under
the covers as goose bumps pimpled along her skin again. Her pulse raced at the
remembered feel of his lips on hers and his hands clutching at her body as if
he wanted nothing more than to sink into her, bone deep. Oh, and she would have
let him, she realized as she lay there replaying the moment over and over again
in her mind. Not even her wild relationship with Alessandro had left her
feeling so desired. As passionate as Alessandro was—and the sex had been
mind-blowing—there was something about Lyle and the way he’d kissed her.
He’d kissed her as if he was searching for something and the answers were
locked inside of her somewhere. Katrina wanted to help him find it, whatever it
was. And, perhaps, find something for herself, something she hadn’t known
before that she needed.

But you can’t
, logic and reason intruded on her thoughts. It wasn’t fair to pull
him into her messy life. She was barely making her way from day to day and this
added stress with the Pirelli family didn’t help matters.

Yet, for all that reason and
logic told her, Katrina drifted off to sleep with hope in her chest, a smile on
her lips, and the remembered sounds of rain against pavement echoing through
her mind.

_____

It had been a week since Lyle had
seen Katrina. The more time that passed, the more nervous he became about the
possibility of coming face to face with the woman who’d given him one of the
most memorable nights of his life. What had he been thinking to believe that he
could be the kind of man Katrina would want to spend time with?

As he sat staring around his
stark, colorless penthouse, reality hit him like a ton of bricks. He tried to
picture her here, but it just didn’t fit her. Not that there was anything wrong
with that. In fact, nothing was wrong with her. It was him. He glanced up from
his coffee mug and caught Twila staring at him, one hand on her hip.

“Something bothering you, honey?”

He shrugged and cleared his
throat. “Nah,” he hedged, avoiding her sharp gaze. “Big surgery today.”

That, at least, wasn’t a lie. He
had a transplant to perform. He’d been disappointed to get the call from UNOS
only to learn that the heart wasn’t for Yolanda, but the other patient had been
waiting for a while too. Transplants were his favorite procedures, because they
injected new life into dying people. He loved coming in after the post-op to
find their color already better and their spirits lifted. There was no way he
could achieve that feeling filing paperwork and sitting on the hospital board
as the Chief of Surgery. It made him confident in his decision to avoid
applying for the position.