The Groom (16 page)

But what about Katrina?
His mind nagged him and pressed the brakes on his excitement.
Things with her were moving at lightning speed and rapidly approaching a level
of seriousness that he could not ignore. Lyle couldn’t see himself making the
decision without her.

Morgan reached down into the slim
leather briefcase she’d brought into the room with her and emerged with a thick
file. She placed it in his hands. “Take as much time as you need to think about
it.”

Lyle turned the file over in his
hands and nodded, standing when she did and shaking her hand again. “Thank you,
Miss Dyer, I appreciate your offer. I really am flattered that you chose me,
and I will give this careful consideration.”

Morgan nodded as if satisfied and
then turned in the doorway. “Something else to think about, Doctor,” she said.
“Your mother tells me that you are eligible for the Chief of Surgery position
at Mount Sinai. That is a very admirable goal. A project like this could go a
long way in causing you to stand out for the job.”

Before he could answer, she was
gone, slipping quietly through the doorway. Annoyance clawed at his insides as
he found himself alone with his thoughts. Of course his parents would want to
push him into this project. It would serve a double purpose, getting him over
Holly and interested in Morgan, as well as positioning him to take the Chief of
Surgery position. Disgust caused bile to rise in his throat.

Was everything they did simply
another move to manipulate him into doing what they wanted? The thought angered
him. They’d been doing it his whole life and he was sick of it. If he was going
to do anything, it would be because he wanted to. And, at the moment, all he
wanted to do was find Katrina and get the hell out of this house. It reminded
him too much of the sort of dry, stagnant life he was trying to avoid. A siren
with dark, mysterious eyes had taught him to want more. He wanted to be
unexpected and unpredictable. He wanted to laugh too loud and drink too much
and maybe even sing in public. He wanted to dance in the rain.

_____

“Are you all right? You’ve been
so quiet since we left the party.”

Katrina glanced at Lyle, who was
treading water just a few feet away from where she was seated on the stone
steps leading down into the pool on the second floor of his penthouse. The open
skylight above them cast the light of a full and glowing moon over the surface
of the water, kissing their skin with a luminescent glow. His proposition that
they take a dip was a scandalous one, considering she didn’t have swimwear, but
the idea proved a good one as the cool water was going a long way toward
clearing her head. Her mind hadn’t stopped racing since she parted with Weston
in the gallery. It also helped that Lyle had forgone a swimsuit as well. She
couldn’t take anything too seriously when he was that close to her with his
washboard abs and chiseled chest on display.

He cut through the water
gracefully toward her, standing just in front of her and bracing his arms on
either side of her shoulders. His eyes searched hers.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

Katrina tried to smile but she
knew that it was a weak attempt. “Can I ask you a question?”

Lyle nodded, even though it was
obvious he would still want an answer to his question.

“What are you doing . . . with
me?”

Her question seemed to disarm
him. After a moment, a lazy grin spread over his face. “Well, right now I’m
skinny-dipping with a copper-skinned goddess.” He leaned in closer and brushed
his lips against hers. Katrina shivered. “In a few seconds, I plan to have her
pressed up against the side of this pool and begging me not to stop.”

Katrina arched an eyebrow.
“Begging you not to stop doing what?”

“That’s for me to know and you to
find out.”

She giggled, but forced herself
to return to the subject at hand. “Seriously,” she prodded. “Let’s be honest
with each other here. I’m not exactly your type.”

“And I’m not your type either,”
he said with a shrug. “So what?”

“Your father and I had a very
interesting conversation.”

Lyle groaned, sounding a lot like
a little boy throwing a tantrum because he couldn’t have what he wanted.
“Please tell me you did not let him get to you. Katrina, my parents’ ambitions
for my life are not the same as my own.”

“I know,” she said as he pulled
her closer until they were pressed together from chest to hip. She sighed at
the comfort of skin-to-skin contact. “It just seems that a guy like you would
want a certain type of woman. Kind of like the one I saw you coming out of the
office with.”

Lyle smiled knowingly. “Did it
bother you to see that? It was just a business conversation, I promise. Do you
want me to tell you what we talked about?”

“You don’t have to do that, Lyle,
really.”

He shrugged. “It was something I
wanted to talk to you about anyway, get your opinion.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Morgan is funding a new charity
program called Healing Hands. It’s pro bono work, operating on children in
third-world countries with birth defects and terminal illnesses. She is looking
for medical professionals to staff the facilities and has asked me to head one
up.”

Katrina’s face split into a grin
and her eyes lit up. “Lyle, that’s great! Are you going to do it? Where would
they send you?”

“I am not sure yet about where
and undecided on if I’ll do it.”

“Of course you’ll do it! You
wanted my opinion, and I’m telling you, you have to go. Opportunities like this
only come once in a lifetime. You could really make a difference in peoples’
lives.”

“You’re right. I feel strongly
about going but . . . what about us, Katrina? I can’t pretend to be thrilled at
the prospect of leaving you and not seeing you for as long as a year.”

“We will just see what comes,
Lyle. I certainly wouldn’t want you to miss a chance like this because of me. I
do not know why you’re worried about me anyway, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, without you, I won’t be.
You are important to me Katrina.”

“I know that. I’m just not sure
why. Seeing you next to Morgan . . .” she sighed, exasperated, not sure how to
say what was on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know, it was like watching one
of those couples from the Calvin Klein ads, you know? Perfection all around. I
don’t fit into a picture like that.”

Lyle sighed, his lips pressing
together firmly as he backed her toward the side of the pool. He trapped her
there, stepping between her legs and forcing her to part them for him and wrap
them around his hips. He groaned as intimate flesh met between them and his
fingers tightened where he held on to her waist. He pressed his lips to her
neck and trailed downward, his mouth coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Do you feel that?” he whispered
against her wet skin. “Don’t lie.”

She did. Every inch of her body
had broken out in goose bumps, and her blood was fairly singing with
anticipation. His tongue circled just over the spot where her pulse thumped
against her collarbone, intensifying the feeling a hundred times over. The low,
husky sound that emitted from the back of her throat told the truth for her.

“That’s what I’m doing with you.
Living every single day in anticipation of one more moment like this, chasing
something I never thought I would feel, and trying to hold on to it for as long
as I can. I don’t care about anything else, you understand?”

“But what about—?”

His lips against hers ended her
protests. Lyle’s kiss washed over her like a tidal wave, causing the thrumming
of her pulse to spread to the outer reaches of her body, causing a tingling in
her extremities and a flood of pulsating heat between her thighs.

“I can’t pretend to have all the
answers,” he said as he trailed his hands up from her waist to cup her breasts,
his thumbs making circles around the edge of her areoles. Katrina gasped and
arched toward him, her head falling back as his lips skimmed her chin and
throat, moving steadily downward. “But I do know what I want and it wasn’t in
that expensive house tonight, it’s not sitting prim and proper in some country
club dining room or passing the day in a quiet office . . . it’s right here, in
my arms, and I don’t intend to let it go.”

As Lyle’s lips closed over one of
the distended buds at his fingertips, Katrina’s protests died on her lips. Her
mind shut down as he made her body sing beneath his touch. By the time he’d
entered her after working her up to fever pitch, all doubt had fled.

_________

LYLE
AWAKENED THE next morning to the sultry sounds of rhythm and blues and the
raspy voice of Otis Redding. After he reached across the sheets and found the
space next to him empty, he stumbled from bed and pulled a pair of boxer briefs
from his top drawer before sliding them on along with a plain white T-shirt. He
scrubbed his hands through his disheveled hair and raked his fingers over the
stubble on his chin before donning his glasses. He made his way toward the
kitchen, where the wail of a saxophone danced on the air along with the smell
of sausage and onions.

He paused in the kitchen’s
entryway, leaning against the bar with a smirk as Katrina shimmied and shook in
front of the stove, her hips and shoulders moving in perfect time to the music
as she belted the lyrics into a wooden spoon.

Six feet one weigh two hundred
and ten

A long hair, real fair skin

Katrina’s voice harmonized
perfectly with Otis’s as she stirred the sausage, peppers, and onions steaming
in the pan and filling his kitchen with a tantalizing aroma. She shook her wild
hair and shifted from bare foot to bare foot rhythmically.

A long legs and I'm-a out-a
sight

There ain't no doubt I'm gonna
take you out

Lyle came forward on silent feet,
his lips twisting into a smirk as his eyes skimmed the long, bare legs
stretching out from under his old college swim team T-shirt. She rose on tiptoe
to grab something from the spice rack, and the barest hint of the curve of her
behind teased him before disappearing again beneath gray cotton. She squealed
as he grabbed her and pulled her back against him.

“Good morning,” he rumbled in her
ear, his voice still a bit raspy with sleep. He was rapidly coming awake with
Katrina’s hips wiggling against his pelvis in time to the music.

“Good morning,” she answered with
a laugh, dumping a bowl full of scrambled eggs into a ready pan. “Omelet?”

She didn’t give him a chance to
answer, turning and thrusting a cup of coffee into his hands before turning
back to the stove. Cheese was sprinkled over the eggs before the sausage and
peppers mixture followed. Lyle sipped his coffee and watched her work while
Otis sang.

'Cause I'm a love man

That's what they call me, I'm
the love man

Katrina turned toward him with
the omelet on the plate with a few triangles of toast and some melon and
slapped it on the counter, shimmying toward him with her wooden spoon raised.
Lyle laughed and reached for her, pulling her close and matching her sultry
rhythm with his own. Her soft body melded to his hard one and he came alive,
his blood singing in his veins as Otis Redding sang about his prowess as a
“love man.” With an impish grin, she gripped his hips and guided him in the
rhythm. He had only had one dance teacher in his life, and he much preferred
Katrina over the old matronly biddy that had taught him the waltz for a
cousin’s cotillion. She turned her back and pressed against him, never losing
her hold on the rhythm as she swayed against him, one arm coming back to clutch
at the back of his neck.

He held her waist and closed his
eyes, burying his face in her hair as memories of making love beneath the
moonlit skylight filled his mind. Combined with her luscious rear pressed up
against him, it was enough to make him want to bend her over the counter and
take her right then and there.

At least, until Twila’s key
scraped the lock. He’d just barely dislodged himself from Katrina when the
housekeeper rounded the corner, coming up short at the sight of Lyle and his
half naked companion. Katrina lowered her arms and tugged at the hem of his
T-shirt in a show of modesty that surprised him. It left him feeling like a
teenager who’d gotten caught doing something naughty while his parents were out
of town. Twila recovered from her shock and entered the kitchen, taking in
Katrina’s messily and hastily prepared breakfast and the scantily dressed pair
with raised eyebrows.

“Well,” she said after an
uncomfortable couple of seconds had passed. “I can see that you’ve got
breakfast taken care of Miss . . .”

“Katrina,” she offered quickly,
dropping her wooden spoon on the counter. She extended her hand, which Twila
shook politely as if she didn’t notice that Katrina wasn’t wearing anything
under her T-shirt.

“Nice to meet you, honey. And
thanks for saving me the trouble. It’s hard getting this one to eat his
breakfast every morning. Looks like you won’t have to try as hard as I do.”

“Twila.” Lyle’s warning tone was
betrayed by a hint of laughter. “Isn’t today your day off?

Twila winked at him. “You kids
don’t mind me. I just came to drop off your dry cleaning. As you were.”

With that, she quickly bustled
from the kitchen but not before she’d shot Lyle a conspiratorial grin. Lyle
waved her off, turning back to Katrina the instant she was upstairs and out of
sight.

“Don’t mind her,” he said, grasping
her hand again. “She’s one of the few people in my life that will understand
how good you are for me.”

She returned his smile and leaned
into him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “Seems like a smart lady to
me.”

“She’s right about one thing,” he
said as he bent to scoop her into his arms. She squealed as he tossed her
effortlessly over his shoulder before reaching for his full plate. “I think I’m
going to enjoy breakfast a lot more with you on the side. I think I’ll have my
eggs in bed this morning.”

An hour later, eggs consumed and
a thoroughly satisfied Katrina snoozing at his side, Lyle’s thoughts began to
wander back to the night before. While he had shrugged off Katrina’s doubts, he
couldn’t deny the ones he was feeling. Not that he questioned his feelings for
her. As he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before rising from the
bed, he knew deep down that he was falling for her, hard and fast. It was
obvious to him that this was no simple rebound fling. At least not for him. It
might seem that way from the outside, but he didn’t give a damn what anyone
thought. He’d been honest with her about that.

His main concern was whether or
not Katrina felt the same way. She had warned him that she wasn’t the type to
make plans, and it had him second-guessing his every move. How much planning
was too much? Was it okay to make dinner reservations, but not okay to ask her
if she was seeing anyone else? Should he allow his thoughts to wander over what
it would be like to make her a permanent part of his life? He just wasn’t sure,
and this new feeling of uncertainty had him off balance.

Maybe it was all part of the
excitement, he decided as he pulled on gym clothes and slipped from the room
quietly so as not to wake Katrina. This sort of thing was exactly why he’d
never been able to be “that guy,” the one that swept into weddings to steal
brides or sang in bars or did anything spontaneous or unplanned. Making plans
hadn’t gotten him anywhere with Holly, or any of the other women in his past
for that matter.

One day at a time
, he reminded himself as he made his way up to the gym, deciding a
quick workout would clear his head. Whatever happened, happened, and Lyle would
hope for the best.

_____

When Katrina entered her
apartment, she found Alessandro and his crew ankle deep in her belongings,
which had been strewn about haphazardly. Pictures lay in broken frames, their
glass mingled with shattered light bulbs. Curtains were torn down, cabinets and
drawers emptied and overturned, and an acrid smell filled the air. Katrina
gagged and paused in the doorway, bringing Lyle up short behind her. He sucked
in a deep breath as he took it all in, his eyes wide as Alessandro marched
toward them, his face twisted in a mask of concern.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t have
to see this, Gattina,” he said solemnly as his cronies continued their work
behind them. One of them pushed a broom through the mess as another was
stuffing broken bits of her belongings into a trash bag. “For once, I was glad
you were with this jamook.”

“What happened?” she asked,
scanning the floor for anything salvageable.

“One guess,” he scoffed with a
roll of his eyes. “Lucca called me an hour ago when he found your place like
this. The Pirellis must have sent a crew here looking for you. When they realized
you weren’t here, they decided to send you a message.”

“Your bedroom’s trashed too,”
reported Lyle, who she hadn’t realized had come into the apartment to look
around. “Looks like they got in through your window. It’s broken.”

Katrina crouched and reached for
the picture of Carmine she’d had hanging in the kitchen, fishing the 3x5 piece
of paper from beneath broken glass. She sighed. “This is getting ridiculous,”
she murmured, feeling fear for the first time since this whole thing began. Her
eyes fell to a lump beneath a white sheet, and she reached for it, not
registering Alessandro’s warning until it was too late. She wretched and bile
rose in her throat as she revealed a dead cat bleeding on her carpet with a
bullet through one eye. She swiftly covered it and closed her eyes, choking
back vomit as Lyle snatched her from the floor and into his arms.

“Jesus,” he whispered, shivering
himself.

Katrina glanced up, and her eyes
met Alessandro’s. They were dark, and his lips were pinched tight at the corners.
He looked much older than his years.

“You know what that is, Gattina,”
he said solemnly.

The Pirelli’s message was clear.
We’re
watching you.
It was what the bullet through the eye meant. They were
closing in fast.

“You can’t stay here,” Lyle said,
as if reading her thoughts.

“No, you can’t,” said another
voice from the doorway. Katrina suppressed a groan as she found Victor standing
in the doorway, one arm in a sling beneath his silk suit jacket. Salvatore, his
Consigliere, stood just behind him, watching her gravely, bodyguards flanking
them and most likely filling the hallway. “It’s time you stopped avoiding the
truth, cara,” he said as he came in, good arm stretched toward her in concern.
“I can’t lose you too.”

Katrina batted his hand away, her
fingers curling around Carmine’s photo in her hand. “Don’t touch me!” she spat,
stepping away from him and closer to Lyle, who was taking in the scene with
quiet interest. “You’ve done enough.”

“I am only trying to protect you.
Thank goodness Alessandro had the good sense to call me. You have been very
foolish, Katrina.”

“I disagree,” she countered, one
eyebrow raised. “Of everyone in this room of Italian descent, I am the only one
smart enough to get the hell out of the so-called Family before it was too late.
You and the Pirellis can have your stupid war, I want no part in it.”

“You’re a part of it whether you
want to be or not,” Victor said. As much as she wanted to argue, Katrina knew
he was right. The dead cat in her apartment was proof that the Pirellis didn’t
care if she’d cleaned up, gotten sober, and left behind a life of decadence and
debauchery. She was the seed of Victor Giordano, and that made her Family. “Go
to Venice with your Nona. Let us protect you.”

“He’s right, Gattina,” Alessandro
chimed in. “For once, get over your pride, and let us help you. You can’t stay
here.”

“You’re right, I can’t stay
here,” she agreed. “And I don’t intend to. I also don’t intend to go running
off to Venice.”

“Where will you go?” Victor asked
incredulously.

“She can stay with me.”

Katrina started at Lyle’s
declaration. Would he really take her in after all the madness she’d exposed
him to? A sane man would be running for the hills by now, but he was here and
didn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Who is this?” Victor asked no
one in particular as he eyed Lyle from head to toe.

“Katrina’s boyfriend,” Alessandro
said, shooting Lyle a murderous glare. “Who is in over his head and has no idea
what he’s doing.”

“Look,” Lyle said, stepping
forward and in front of Katrina a bit. She warmed at his protective stance. “I
may not be a part of ‘the Family,’ but I have common sense. Katrina is easy to
get to in a neighborhood like this. They won’t expect her to be in a Manhattan
penthouse. It might buy you some time to . . . do . . . whatever it is you guys
do.”

Victor rubbed his chin
thoughtfully but Alessandro looked uncertain. “They’ll find her,” he argued to
both men. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then do what I trusted you with
in the first place,” Victor snapped, his cool eyes zeroing in on Sandro.
“Protect her!”

The broad-shouldered Italian
withered beneath Victor’s stare. “I’ve done my best.”

Katrina felt sorry for him; he
really had done all he could, and it wasn’t as if she’d exactly cooperated.
Still, it didn’t mean she intended to start now.

“You guys can do whatever you
want, I’m going to sift through any clothes I might have left, and then I’m out
of here. Lyle, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”