Not Quite Mine (Not Quite #2)(20)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Dean’s head started to nod, slowly at first, then faster. “OK…I’ll do that on one condition.”

A lock of hair had come loose under the stupid hard hat so Katie thrust it behind her ear in frustration. She knew she looked ridiculous. And tired. Lord, just arguing with him was wearing her out.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense. Name your price, cowboy.”

He lifted his index finger and spoke slower. “I’ll give you a budget and you will not argue, debate, or ask for more. I’ll give you a workable budget any experienced designer would make work.”

“But I’m not experienced—”

“Ah! No excuses! Do we have a deal?”

“And if that doesn’t work for me?”

“Then you walk away now. Go home to Texas and take your niches with you.”

She tilted her head and took him in. His determined chin and eyes set in stone made her wonder…made her question exactly why he didn’t want her around. Then she finally noticed the stripe on his hat. Maybe he didn’t like the distraction or the hazing he was obviously getting with the men.

Or maybe it was her.

“Deal.” She shoved her hand in front of him and waited.

He hesitated, then his warm palm met hers. Sparks radiated up her arm and raised gooseflesh despite the dry heat filling the room.

She let go quickly and hoped he didn’t see her skin flush. “I expect my budget by the end of the day.”

Dean mumbled something under his breath as she walked away. “Oh, and, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Nice hat.”

Chapter Eight

Patrick Nelson’s appearance somehow met, if not exceeded, every preconceived thought in Katelyn’s brain about how a private eye should look. He had to be six two, nearly as tall as Dean. He looked thicker than a longhorn stud in a pen. Roped muscle filled in his black short jacket under a buttoned-up dress shirt. This man probably owned one suit and wore it only when he had to.

He screamed retired marine or ex-cop. His dark hair was peppered with gray and his brown eyes had a way of looking through you. If he were fifteen years younger, Katie might have found him attractive. Actually, he was attractive, but she wasn’t interested.

She met with him in her room to avoid anyone overhearing their conversation.

They discussed Savannah’s sudden appearance in Katelyn’s life in depth. They were on a second cup of coffee before he turned the conversation toward her personal life.

He leaned back on the sofa of the penthouse family suite and wrote notes in the small pad of paper he’d pulled from his pocket.

“Who are you dating?”

The question struck her as strange and she hesitated to answer it. “Excuse me?”

“Dating…sleeping with? Who do you spend your time with on a romantic level?”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with Savannah ending up on my doorstep.”

“Everything about you is relevant as to why this infant ended up in your arms. Someone knew things about you they couldn’t have known by reading the papers.”

She shook her head. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You were on the third page of a Houston tabloid three weeks ago on the arm of a blond in a bar.”

“I was?” She didn’t know the picture he was referring to. She’d stopped concerning herself with the paparazzi pictures over a year and a half earlier. About the time she and Dean stopped seeing each other.

“You were. Club Zen I think it was.”

Oh, that’s right. She remembered going to meet a friend who had broken up with her latest. They managed to get through a round before several acquaintances surrounded them. Katelyn had a vague memory of someone taking pictures but didn’t think more about it. “I know the club but couldn’t tell you a thing about the picture. I wasn’t involved with anyone in that crowd that night.”

“The magazine said you were lovers.”

“The magazine doesn’t fact check.”

Patrick made a note and continued.

“There’s no one in your life?”

“No.”

“Who are your girlfriends? Who do you confide in?”

Monica’s name came to her lips with ease. “I already told you that Monica was with me the night Savannah showed up.” Katie gave him a couple of names of people she considered close friends.

“Do they know about Savannah?”

“No. Only you and Monica know about her.”

He scratched his chin in thought. “You wouldn’t be the first celebrity, or woman of means, who has had a child dumped on their doorstep. Did it occur to you that this might not be personal?”

“Yeah. But it doesn’t change anything. I still don’t know who the mom is, and I won’t be comfortable until I know Savannah is legally mine. I’m hiring you to find the mom and do the necessary check on this paperwork.”

A corner of Patrick’s mouth quivered. “I’ll find the mom. Not to worry. The speed in which I do it will be the question. I’m going to need access to your suite in Houston.”

She nodded. “No one can know you’re a private investigator.”

“Hence the word ‘private.’” He wrote something on a separate sheet of paper and tore it off to give it to her.

It was a name. “Who is Ben Sanderson?”

“Me. That’s the name you’ll give the hotel. I’ll tap into the surveillance and see what I can find.”

“What should I tell them about you?”

“Tell them I’m your lover, friend…makes no difference to me. Just make it easy for me to get into the hotel and keep the staff from poking around. I’ll do the rest.”

She could do that. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d told the staff to look the other way to a man’s presence.

A loud knock sounded from the door to her suite. She looked at the clock on the wall and thought maybe room service was early. She stood and started for the door. “I ordered dinner. They’re early. I can get you something if you like.”

Patrick stood and tucked the notebook into his jacket pocket. “I have enough for now. I’ll call you in a couple of days to update you on my progress.”

He walked behind her as she opened the door.

The smile she’d placed on her lips to great the hotel staff slid the moment the door opened.

“Dean?” The desire to shut the door and keep him from seeing Patrick made her arm shake. “What are you doing here?” And how had he managed to get up the elevator without a call from the receptionist letting her know he was there?