Not Quite Mine (Not Quite #2)(36)
Author: Catherine Bybee

The security guard straightened and looked around the room. “She didn’t call ahead.”

“She said she’d try…but she was with friends…out. Well, you know Katie. Call her, she’ll vouch for me.” He removed the key from his pocket and waved it in the air. “She gave me her key. I’ll be back in LA with her next week.”

The guards exchanged a glance and proceeded to relax.

“We’ll check with Miss Morrison.”

“Suit yourself.” Patrick moved back into the room and picked up the phone. “Is the kitchen still open? Damn domestic flights don’t even serve peanuts anymore.”

If there was one thing Patrick had learned in all his years of being a PI, it was that when you acted as if you belonged, people seldom questioned if you did.

“Yeah, the kitchen’s still open.”

“Thank God. I’m starved.” Ben allowed the kitchen to patch through the line and proceeded to order the chef’s special. He glanced around the room, noticed a bar, and knew he could pour himself a drink.

The guards talked among themselves before they excused themselves, apologizing for their presence, and left. Patrick knew the guards would be back if Katie hadn’t dropped his name with someone in power at the hotel.

Patrick kicked off his shoes after they were gone in case the place held hidden cameras. Best to act like he’d just gotten off an airplane.

He poured himself two fingers of Crown Royal and brought the whiskey to his lips.

The TV provided background noise while he waited for room service to arrive.

Patrick noted the large cart in which the food arrived. One that could easily conceal an infant seat.

He scribbled a note.

He ate. Made himself at home.

Enjoyed the opulence of high-rise and high-dollar living.

Only after he’d forced himself from the room, under the guise of needing a cigarette and considering the home owner, he sauntered outside after dark and “accidently” got lost in the far reaches of the hotel.

There were plenty of his assignments that left him cold, hungry, and tired.

This wasn’t one of them.

I’m drunk.

OK…maybe not drunk in the truest sense, but tipsy beyond anything Katelyn had been in the past several months.

Many of the employees had stuck around long past five. They cranked up the music and kept drinking until the caterers had left and Dean pulled the plug. He called a series of cabs that arrived to take his more inebriated employees home.

Such a thoughtful boss.

Katie couldn’t bring herself to stand, let alone even consider driving home. And this was the one night a week that she spent at the hotel…alone.

“Ready to go, darlin’?” Dean walked around the massive room turning off the work lights. Most of the mess had been cleaned up and what wasn’t would be picked up by the early morning workers over the weekend.

“I think you should call me a cab, too, Dean. I haven’t drank that much since the wedding.” The wedding that changed her life in the most unexpected way.

“Jack would have my ass if I poured you into a cab. Give me a minute and I’ll lock up the office before I see you home.”

Dean walked from the room with all his Texan swagger and Katie had to close her eyes to help her focus. She hadn’t drunk that much but, on the legs of a lack of sleep, the alcohol must have shot straight to her head.

She rested her eyes for a few seconds and waited for Dean to return.

“Wake up, darlin’. Don’t want the staff to think I’m a schmuck taking advantage of the queen bee around here.”

Katie woke with a start. She was in Dean’s truck with a seat belt over her lap. The bright lights of the hotel parking lot illuminated the truck and made her blink. “How did I get here?”

“You were out. I managed to get you in here without waking you.”

“Oh, my word.” She shook the fog from her brain and glanced at the clock. At least an hour had passed. “Look what time it is.”

“Like I said, you were gone. I thought about taking you to my place but I didn’t want to scare you off.”

She rubbed a hand over her face, completely ignoring her makeup. “What makes you think I’d scare that easily?”

Dean fixed her with a stare. “You pass out at work and wake up in my bed…you don’t think that would cause you to freak?”

Well when he put it that way.

“I—I trust you.”

He shook his head before getting out of the truck. “That makes one of us.”

A grin settled over her lips and warmth spread throughout her body as he walked around the front of the truck before opening her door.

“Steady enough to walk?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She’d been more tired than drunk. Sure her head still swam a little, but there wasn’t a dense fog over her eyes shading her vision.

His arm snaked around her waist even though she didn’t need it. Part of her wanted to push him away, but the other part…the woman who enjoyed the deep heat of his hand resting on her hip and the masculine scent of his skin as it reached her nose…that part wanted to snuggle up and enjoy the cocoon of his arms.

Huddled close, they walked to the lit drive of the hotel. A valet opened the door for them as they walked through and addressed Katie by name.

“Good evening, Miss Morrison,” the receptionist said as they walked by. “Did you want your messages?”

She waved the woman off. “In the morning.”

“Yes, Miss Morrison. Have a nice evening.”

Dean walked her through the lobby and to the bank of elevators. “Do you have your key?” he asked as his fingers skimmed over her arms. Shivers ran down her skin despite the warm temperature of the California summer evening.

She dug into her purse and removed the elevator key. They stepped inside, alone, and she waved the card over the lock. The key accessed the penthouse level and bypassed anyone going up along the way. It was a small measure of security she had living in a hotel with often hundreds of strangers.

They arrived on the top floor without saying anything to each other.

It wasn’t until they were inside her hotel room that she managed to say, “I don’t even feel tipsy anymore. You don’t have to keep holding me up.”

Dean didn’t let go.

She didn’t wiggle out of his arms.

He did, however, remove her purse from her fingers and toss the bag on a nearby table.

“Not tipsy?” he asked.