Chapter 16
By the time I exit the elevator in Reese’s apartment building, my smile hasn’t disappeared. That is until I see the two big, intense men walking toward me that my departure was not fast enough for me to escape: Royce and Blake Walker of Walker Security. Both are the proverbial tall, dark, and deadly mix of attitude and good looks in jeans and Walker T-shirts. Both with long, dark hair tied at their napes. And both are in a direct collision course with little ole me. My only saving grace is Kara, Blake’s wife, who is walking next to them, who I have met numerous times and find really likeable, tough, and yet sweet.
With no other option, I charge toward them and stop in front of them as they do me. “Hi there, Cat,” Kara says, while both men have knowing smirks on their faces.
“I distinctly remember seeing you on camera in that dress yesterday,” Royce says.
I scowl, stunned that he would point out my obvious overnight stay with Reese, considering he’s usually the quiet, brooding Walker brother. “Why are you even noticing my dress?” I demand.
Blake laughs and Kara elbows him. “Sorry, Cat,” she says. “Not even his wife can teach him manners.”
“I noticed the dress,” Royce says, scowling at her and then at me, “because my wife complained that she couldn’t fit into it because she’s too fat, when, of course, she’s not fat. She’s just pregnant. But I can’t get her to see that.”
In other words, he couldn’t care less about my overnight. He’s thinking out loud about his wife and not sure how to be there for her. “Just love her, Royce,” I say as if he’s really asked the question. “And from what I’ve seen, you’re doing just fine.” I pat his arm. “More than fine. I’ll let you all get to Reese. I know he’s eager for whatever you found for him.” I don’t wait for the knowing smirks that might follow. I start walking and exit to the street, the cool morning air going right up my dress to my naked crotch, which, of course, reminds me of Reese ripping my panties off me. Why was I even looking for them? I can’t actually wear them again.
I smile and sidestep a group of passersby, with my mind back on Royce and how he dotes on Lauren, how all the Walker men are that way with their women. They are arrogant and sexy, but they love just as big as they make the art of walking into a room. I know that kind of love exists out there, maybe thanks to them. It’s just not how my father was with my mother. He had his women. She let him. I can’t be her. And maybe seeing those Walker men right now was more well-timed than it was poorly timed.
I’m reminded that real men love their fat, pregnant women. I laugh and dig out my phone and dial Lauren. She answers on the first ring. “Hey, you big, fat, pregnant woman,” I say.
“That is not funny,” she chides, and I can hear her scowl. “I might even unfriend you.”
“You’re not fat,” I say, barely dodging two men who almost run me over and never even notice I’m there. “You are however, quite possibly losing your mind, though, if you think you’re fat. I just ran into Royce and he told me you were saying you are.”
“Royce has a big mouth. And I am fat. None of my clothes fit me.”
“You’re pregnant. And tiny.”
“I carry it all in my hips, not my belly. Some women are all in their cute baby belly, but no. Not me. All ass and hips. I want a cute baby belly. And how did you run into Royce? He was going to— Reese. Cat. Were you—”
“Yes. He apparently took your challenge and mine, and won.”
She laughs. “As I knew he would. He has a lot of the Walker men traits about him. He sees. He wants. He goes after that target.”
“Hold on,” I say, running across a street before the light turns. “Okay. Sorry. I’m hurrying home. I need a shower. He’s a good guy right, Lauren?”
“A very good guy. And you really like him, or you wouldn’t be on the phone with me.”
“He’s never been married.”
“Neither have you.”
“He’s never been engaged,” I counter. “Or…I don’t think he has. Why not? He’s good looking and successful.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes. He said he’s a workaholic.”
“He’s in his thirties, probably a self-made millionaire or at least on his way there, and one of the top defense attorneys in the country. You and I both know what that takes.” Her line beeps. “Hold on.” The line clicks over and a few seconds pass. “I need to go,” she says when she comes back. “I have a female client divorcing her abusive husband. It’s a nightmare for her more than me. I want to talk about the trial. I’ll call you back later tonight.”
She hangs up, and I enter my apartment building to find my second oldest brother, Gabe, at the desk. The security guard says something to him and he turns to find me standing there. And, as usual, he’s looking his blond, preppy man-self, in his weekend jeans paired with his favorite Harvard shirt that has a collar, of course.
“Why are you wearing the dress you wore in court yesterday?” he asks.
“How do you even know I wore this yesterday?”
“You were on camera.”
“I repeat. How do you even know what I was wearing yesterday?”
“You’re my sister.”
“You’ve made my point,” I say.
“That I’m not stupid? Thank you. Your hair is all over the place and so is your makeup. Who is he?”
“Why are you here?”
He reaches for the cups on the security desk. “I came to have coffee with my little sister.”
I accept the cup and give him a curious look. “What are you up to?”
He laughs. “Stop already. I just came to check on you. And—”
“Cat!”
I rotate before he fills in that blank to find a petite and pretty brunette, who is about five feet tall and wearing five-inch heels and a black pantsuit, hurrying my way. And officially, this morning just keeps getting better. Not really. “Who is that?” my brother asks.
“My agent,” I say a few beats before Liz stops in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, and then hold up a hand. “Never mind. I know what you’re doing here. No. End of conversation.”
Her brow furrows. “Why are you wearing—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I warn her. “I don’t need to hear that question again.”
“Right,” she says. “Let’s talk upstairs, so you can fix yourself. You’re a mess.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Of course I am. Let’s go.”
I start walking, and my brother and my agent are quick to keep pace while I sip my coffee, which is actually perfect. “Thank you,” I say, glancing at my brother as I punch the elevator button.
“You’re welcome, little sis.”
“This is your brother?” Liz asks, giving him a once-over with a little too much interest. Granted, he’s good looking, but she’s my agent and he’s my brother.
“Yes,” Gabe answers for me. “I’m the older brother.”
“Age?” Liz asks.
“Thirty-six.”
“Married?” she brazenly asks.
The elevator opens and I roll my eyes and enter, while the two of them go to opposite walls but keep talking. “Never married,” Gabe says.
“Why?” Liz asks, as if replaying my conversation with Lauren about Reese. “What’s wrong with you?”
I watch the interaction, which has forgotten me and with each floor turns more and more direct, until finally I can’t take it anymore. I glance at Liz, who is all red-cheeked, and say, “Seriously? You’re flirting with my brother in front of me.”
“I am not,” she says indignantly.
“You’re not?” Gabe asks. “That’s too bad.”
The elevator doors open and I exit the car and just leave them both there. Once I’m at my door, I enter my apartment and leave it open. Kicking off my shoes in the entrance, I really want to just go shower, but I walk to the kitchen instead. After setting my bags on a red leather barstool, I walk to the microwave and stick my coffee inside. By the time it’s out, the two of them are standing on opposite sides of the island looking at me.
“Cat,” Liz begins.
“No,” I say. “I decline the book deal.”
“Why are you declining a book deal?” Gabe asks. “You hit the Times with your last book.”
“How do you even know that?”
“Of course I knew that,” he says.
“You did not,” I accuse.
“I did too,” he insists.
“You did?”
“Yes,” Gabe says. “I’m not the ass you are apparently remembering me to be.”
“You hate that I left my legal career.”
“I’m over it. Your column is damn good, and so was the book. Why are you turning down another deal?”
“Wait,” Liz says, glancing at Gabe. “Did you congratulate her when she hit the Times?”
“No, but—”
“And now we know why you’re single,” she says. “Next time send her flowers and chocolate. And no. I was not flirting with you.” She refocuses on me. “Back to his question. Why?”
“No,” I repeat.
“Why?” Gabe presses.
“Yes,” Liz says. “Why?”
“Dan is an ass,” I say. “He also represents everything I hate about the system. I’m not writing a book with him.”
My cellphone rings, and I’m quick to pull it from my purse in hopes that I can just end this meet-and-greet in the kitchen. I glance at Reese’s number and answer, “Hey.”
“Did you walk home?”
“Yes.”
“It’s chilly out and I have your panties. You must have felt that.”
I laugh and cut my gaze as inquiring eyes suddenly study me more intensely. “I survived.”
“Come back and get them.”
“They aren’t exactly usable at this point. But I’ll be about an hour. My brother and my agent showed up at my house.”
“Take the book deal, Cat,” he says, turning serious on me.
“I can’t have this conversation with you right now.”
“Just don’t decline it officially until we talk. Promise.”
“No.”
“Cat—”
“No.”
“Right,” he says. “We’ll talk about this later, naked. But soon. Get back here or I’ll come after you.” He hangs up.
I set my phone down and look between Liz and Gabe. “You both need to leave. I have someplace to be.”
Gabe cuts his stare and looks frustrated, like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. “I’ll see you later,” he says, heading out of the room.
I glance at Liz. “I’m fine. Go see him off. I’ll make coffee. I know where everything is.”
“No to the book deal,” I say, trying to get her to leave, too.
“Okay. I’ll make a cup of coffee and stay awhile.”
I sigh and follow Gabe to the exit to find him waiting on me with the door cracked open, his expression stern. “Why are you really here?”
“How good is Reese Summer?”
“He’s good. Really good. Why?”
“The best?”
“Yes. The best.”
“A killer?”
“In courtroom terms, yes. Why? Are you thinking of contracting him?”
“It’s complicated and you have company.” He turns and leaves, and I have this urge to chase after him and demand answers, when I’m not sure why, but he’s right. I have company.
Frowning, I walk back into the kitchen and find Liz leaning on the counter by the pot, sipping from a cup. “We can set rules and guidelines for the book. You are in charge. You control the content, title, and cover. It’s insanity to walk away from this.” She sets her cup down and walks to the island, where she sets her phone down. “Are you fucking Reese Summer?” She taps her phone, and I go all hot and cold inside.
“What?”
“Look at the photo,” she instructs.
I walk to the counter and stare down at a photo of me with Reese at the hotel last night, his hand on my arm. His body very close to mine. “How did you get that?”
“From your editor, who got it from Dan.”
“That bastard,” I say. “I had a fight with Reese last night just as I did with Dan. I tried to leave and Reese wasn’t done with the fight.”
“Are you fucking him?”
Damn it, she isn’t giving up. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Cat,” she breathes out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t happen until last night.”
“The publisher, the person above your editors, wants to see me Monday, but I can already hear her now.” She lowers her voice. “This situation creates a wave of tabloid-like gossip that doesn’t do justice to true crime.” She returns to her normal voice. “I hope that man is worth your career. I’ll let you know what happens.”
She heads to the door, and I let her go. I don’t move, but I listen as the door opens and closes. I’d already turned down the book deal. I don’t know why I feel so bad right now.