The Almost Wives Club: Kate (8 page)

“You work out,” she murmured, hours later, kissing his taut, almost-a-six-pack abs.

“I do. Tennis, golf, squash, any sport a corrupt businessman might play. Playing sports is a great way to get close to some of the men I investigate. People let down their guard when they’re sweating and competitive.”

She made a face. “Do you do anything for fun? For you?”

“Yep. I was pretty much born on skis. I took up snowboarding a few years ago. I also play soccer a couple of times a week in a recreational men’s league.”

She stretched, feeling the delicious sense of relaxation, the echoes of pleasure still reverberating.

“And I’ve recently taken up surfing.”

She traced the lines of his ribs, like a ladder, with a fingertip. “Have you? And how’s that going?”

“I’ve got a super hot instructor. Makes it tough to concentrate on the lesson sometimes, but I think I love it.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah.” He captured her hand in his own. “Except sometimes when I’m surfing I kind of forget what I’m doing and start fantasizing about her.”

“You do?” Her voice came out all breathy, like she’d just run a marathon.

“Yep. There’s something about hitting the sweet spot on a wave when you’re gliding and so high on it that you feel like you’re floating on the top of the world. It makes me think about making love with my teacher.”

“Mmm.”

“You know what I want to do?”

“What?”

“Have sex on a surf board.”

She laughed. “You are so crazy.”

“Think about it. Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“No. It would be tippy and unstable and you’d probably drown.”

“I think we should find out. Go out there while it’s dark and see what happens.”

“Without a wet suit? It’s freezing out there.”

He grinned over at her in the dark. “So, it’s not the making love on a surfboard that’s stopping you. It’s the water temperature.” His expression pretty much said,
Gotcha.
“All we have to do is wait for the weather to warm up.”

“Which won’t be for months. Are you still going to be here?”

He sighed. “Probably not. But we could make a date.”

Which implied they’d be seeing each other again. “We could.”

She rolled over and kissed him. “I should go.”

He kissed her back, “No. You really shouldn’t.”

“Whew, this is getting pretty serious. You want me to sleep over on our first date?”

“Second date,” he reminded her.

“I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“I always have a spare. I travel so much it’s easy to forget one in a hotel room or someplace, so I keep a few with me.”

And because she really didn’t want to get dressed and go home in the middle of the night, and because she was no longer a woman who lived her life by rigid rules, she agreed.

The next morning they made breakfast together. She’d expected to feel shy, but he looked so happy to see her when he woke up, that she forgot to be shy.

She wore one of his T-shirts that hung to her thighs and padded around his kitchen making scrambled eggs and toast while he took care of bacon and coffee.

It was companionable. He was a pretty chatty morning person, and she was happy to let him talk while she sipped coffee. She was not so much a morning person.

She got a call as they were finishing breakfast, it was Mike telling her he’d booked her a lesson for later in the day.

After breakfast, she loaded the dishwasher and he washed the pans, so choreographed you’d think they’d been together for years instead of one night.

She wasn’t sure what the etiquette was. When was she supposed to leave? She didn’t live like this, but Nick did. It wasn’t something she could ask him, though. Hey, by the way, with your killer reputation with women, you must know the correct procedure for leaving the morning after. Was it right after breakfast? Was there some hint or sign that was universally accepted? And that she didn’t know?

While she was wondering, he went to a seriously high tech looking briefcase, unlocked it with a code, and flipped open the lid. He drew out a beige file folder, like a million others she’d seen.

He placed it on the table where they’d recently eaten breakfast. She peered at the tab but there was a case file number on it, no name. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Your case file.”

He sat down and flipped open the cover.

He pulled out the chair beside him and she sat. She couldn’t imagine what was in that folder and wasn’t completely certain she wanted to know.

He caught a glimpse of her face and grinned. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing in here that’s going to embarrass you or make you wish the internet had never been invented.”

“Good.”

He flipped through and then pulled out a series of photographs. He began laying them out on the table, as though this were a game of solitaire. Only every card had her picture on it.

“I started with some photos of when you were a teenager. Your mom would have happily given me all your baby photos, but frankly, subjects don’t become interesting until the teen years.”

The first picture he showed her was of her and her cousins at the beach. Since she was an only child, she’d spent a lot of time with her cousins growing up. They’d just come in from surfing and were goofing around in front of the camera. “I was fifteen in that picture. So what?”

“Actually, you were sixteen. Look at the expression on your face.”

“I’m smiling at the camera.”

He didn’t comment, merely laid out more photos. One of her surfing, where the photographer had caught her coming out of a curl and she could feel the sheer joy of the moment. The picture made her smile.

There were a few more from the high school years, then college and the Jennifer Aniston hair, the Ugg boots, the tight jeans. A few of the photos showed her at parties but they didn’t show her doing anything that made her want to snatch the photographs and burn them.

Here she was skiing, and on a backpacking trip with some other girls during spring break. Here was the inevitable Cancun trip. Suntans, bikinis, margaritas. Some boy whose name she’d forgotten.

And then he set up a second series of photos. Here she was again, still smiling for the camera. Always smiling.

In the first photo, she was holding hands with Ted at a backyard barbecue. She thought they’d been going out a few months by then.

All the photos in the second set were of her and Ted; out for dinner with Ted and his parents, dressed up for some gala event. She and her mother sharing Christmas dinner with Ted’s family.

The final picture was of her at the engagement party. She pulled that photo closer and studied it. What was she thinking, that blond woman with the big ring on her finger and a glass of champagne in her hand? Someone had snapped this while Duncan Carnarvon was making a toast, welcoming her to the family. She hadn’t known it was being taken. She looked…bemused.

“What do you notice?” Nick asked her, “Between the pre-Ted pictures and the post-Ted ones.”

She had no idea, so she studied the two sets more carefully.

When she didn’t say anything, he spoke. “You see it, don’t you? You’re carefree in the earlier pictures. Your smile is a real smile. After Ted, you always have that look as though someone said, ‘Say Cheese.’”

“I was older.”

“You lost something. You started being careful.”

She picked up the last one. “This was my engagement party.”

They both studied the candid. “You don’t look like this is the happiest day of your life.”

“I was, am, intimidated by Ted’s father. And all their stuffy friends. I was on my best behavior,” she admitted.

“Why did you say yes to Ted?”

She stacked the photos into a neat pile and returned them to him. He pushed them into the folder and shut them away. For which she was grateful.

“I think he made me feel safe,” she said sadly. “He’s big and handsome and took me to nice places, and I could see the path ahead of me. He was always a perfect gentleman. I liked that about him.” She shrugged. “I knew I’d never have to worry about money. I’m not going to pretend that wasn’t part of it.” But not a very big part.

“He’s a catch, all right,” he said, with an edge of sarcasm.

“Maybe I was just ready. I’m twenty-eight. I want kids. I don’t want to be one of those women who waits until she’s forty to become a mother. I want my kids when I’m young enough to enjoy them. I thought he’d be a good father.” She thought about why she’d said yes some more, not that she hadn’t been obsessing about that very question since she’d broken off the engagement. “We never had a fight.”

“Not one?”

“No. If something was important enough to me, he usually gave in. And vice versa. My mom and dad used to fight all the time. It was so peaceful being in a relationship where there was no yelling.”

“I’m no relationship expert but I would guess that never fighting is no more healthy than fighting all the time is.”

She nodded. “It’s quieter, though.”

“You haven’t said once that you loved him.”

She glanced up at him. Nodded her had. “I know. I thought I did. But you’re right. I didn’t love him. Not really. Not enough. If I’d really loved him, I’d have handled the you-trying-to-seduce-me thing so much better.”

“Yeah? What would you have done?”

“I’d have sent the parents packing and sat down with Ted. If we’d loved each other, we could have worked it out.”

He gazed at her intently. “So, you’re saying…?”

“I think you gave me the perfect excuse.” She sighed. “Or maybe everything was fine until that seamstress cursed the dress.”

“What?”

“Right. You don’t know about that.” So she told him about the curse. “Did everything go south because that woman cursed my wedding dress? Or was it because I didn’t love the man I’d promised to marry?”

“I’m sticking with you didn’t love him. That works better for me than hocus pocus.” He pulled her against him. “What time’s your lesson?”

“One-thirty.”

He glanced at the clock. “Good. We’ve got time?”

“Time for what?” But she knew.

He kissed her until she was panting with desire, and then took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

The days took on a pattern. They’d sleep until they woke up, which was surprisingly early for people on vacation. It was as though there was so much to pack into the days, the surfing, beach walking and simple talking.

They’d wake up, either at her place or his, have breakfast together. She’d teach surfing, he’d practice surfing. They walked the beach, tried local restaurants. One day he drove her into San Diego and they spent a day being tourists.

Life was good. Easy. He knew he couldn’t stay indefinitely, but he couldn’t leave. Not yet. He made love to her every night and if it was possible, every time was better than the last. She was learning him, too. Learning all the things he loved, all the ways he liked to be pleased. He loved how much fun she was in bed, and how often she made him laugh, in bed and out.

They were lying side by side on the beach, their boards pulled up beside them, after a few good hours in the waves. He was already catching on enough that she offered a few pointers, but mostly left him to it.

The sun was warm and the sand as soft as icing sugar.

“You know what day Friday is?”

He was half asleep beside her. “No.”

“It’s my mother’s birthday.” She let out a sigh so heavy he was surprised it didn’t make a dent in the sand. “She said me marrying Ted was the best birthday present she could ask for.”

He shifted to make himself more comfortable. “Maybe she should marry him. He likes older women.”

“What?”

His eyes flew open. Damn. That wasn’t like him. He was usually a little better at keeping his mouth shut. Being a detective and all. He uncovered secrets. He didn’t blurt out the ones he knew. “Nothing.”

She turned to face him. “That wasn’t nothing. You don’t say a man likes older women in that sarcastic way and then clam up. It’s very suspicious.”

“He had an older girlfriend in college,” he said, closing his eyes again and hoping she’d take the hint.

“Nick?” When he turned his head, she was staring at him with an expression that suggested she was not going to be easily fobbed off.
Shit
. “You might as well tell me. I’m only going to start guessing.”

“There’s a code.”

“What kind of a code?”

“An unspoken, between roommates code.”

She snorted. “Somebody should have told Sara that before she blabbed about the one and only time I got drunk in college.”

“It’s a men’s code.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve heard Ted and his buddies gossip. They’re worse than girls.”

He shook his head, deeply uncomfortable.

She scooched closer. “I am not going to marry the man so anything you can give me that makes me feel less guilty about dumping him right before the wedding would be really helpful.”

“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about. He hired me to try to seduce you.”

“I know.” She grinned over at him suddenly. “And apparently it worked. Oh, come on. I want to know.”

“This stays between us. Understood?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“When we were in college he always dated society girls. You know, the kinds with hyphenated last names who go to debutante balls.”

“Girls like me.”

He raised a finger. “We’ll get to that.” He blew out a breath. “So, he dated these girls. But he always had another woman on the side. She was always older, maybe a little raunchy. The kind of woman who could drink Ted under the table, who maybe had a tattoo or a piercing. The more she’d been around the block, the better.”

“You mean, while he was dating the bluebloods?”

He nodded. “The one who lasted the longest was a stripper.”

“A stripper. Ted dated a stripper?” She could not believe what she was hearing. “We are talking about Edward Carnarvon?”

“Yeah. Kind of shocked me too.”

“He dated a stripper?”

“Not exactly dated. It was more a secret thing.” He smiled in memory. “She was an interesting woman. She made these huge breakfasts for us. Liked to see us eat them. Anyway, I think those girls who were the right people for his parents weren’t right for him.”

“Ted’s stripper cooked you breakfast? She must have been a big part of his life, then. Somehow the breakfast cooking sounds more intimate than the sex with a stripper part.”

“There was a real connection there,” he admitted.

A frown had settled over her forehead. “He must have been really glad when I called off the wedding.”

“If he was he was stupid.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Because in you he’d finally got it right. You are the best of both those women.”

She rolled up on one elbow, casting a shadow across his face. “You think I’m half stripper?”

“I thought the first time I saw you that Ted finally found her. A woman who is cool and proper on the outside, but who burns hot on the inside.”

“You make it sound like a thyroid disorder.”

He looped his arms around her and their gazes met. “Not.”

“But Ted never saw me that way.”

He watched her face, watched the play of emotions and the final eye-widening realization. “Is he still doing that? Keeping this hot, older woman on the side?”

“I wasn’t hired to investigate Ted,” he said shortly.

“He was.” He felt her beside him, thinking. Probably things were suddenly falling into place that hadn’t made sense before. “Oh, my God. The late squash games, the evenings he’d come in saying he’d had a late meeting, when I could smell the fresh shower smell of his hair. I thought he showered at the office so he’d be nice and fresh for me.” She sighed. “At least, that’s what I told myself.”

When he didn’t answer, because what could he say? She asked, “Is he still with the same woman? The stripper?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe I’m not a trained investigator like you are, but I can tell you’re lying. You tell me right now or I am going to confront Ted and ask him.”

He shook his head. “I really don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised, though.”

She made a sound like a moan. “I used to think I was an intelligent woman. But I’m stupid. Stupid!”

“You
are
an intelligent woman. But you think the rest of the world plays by the same rules you do. Trust me, they don’t. You have integrity. Don’t make the mistake of believing other people have it.”

“Like Ted.”

He shrugged.

“What about you? Do you have integrity Nick?”

He returned her gaze steadily. “I try to. I know you think some of what I do relies on deception, and you’re right, but I try to operate by a code.”

“What’s her name?”

“Who?”

She glared at him. “Don’t play dumb. The stripper.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to go yell at her or anything. I would feel better if she had a name, so I didn’t have to refer to her as the stripper.”

“Marlene.”

“Marlene. Like Dietrich.”

“Like Dietrich,” he agreed. Then he reached out and put his hand on hers, bringing their linked hands up so they rested on his chest. “You deserve so much better.”

She looked at him as though doubting his words, and he wanted to prove to her somehow that she was the most amazing woman in the world. He wanted to slay dragons and win tournaments. Whatever heroes were supposed to do to prove their love. He was kind of fuzzy on the details, so he looked into her eyes and tried to let her know everything he felt without saying the words out loud.

He couldn’t believe how hard and fast he’d fallen.

People used to tell him he was too picky, too much of a player to settle down. But the simple truth was, he’d never met the right woman.

Until now.

He’d discovered that when he fell, he fell hard.

He was in love with Kate Winton-Jones and he had no idea how to proceed. He was new to the whole love thing and she was still bruised and shaken from her last go-around.

When Kate was off teaching her lessons, he checked in with his office. There were a couple of juicy cases pending and he knew he couldn’t stay away for long.

His time was running out.

While he was checking in with his Susan, he asked, “Has Edward Carnarvon called?”

“No.”

“Okay. Let me know if he does.”

If Ted hadn’t called off the wedding, and he hadn’t called Nick trying to convince him to find Kate, then there was only one other possibility.

He’d hired another detective.

 ***

He spotted Ted’s latest PI a couple of days later. First, he’d seen the scruffy young guy hanging out on the beach. He seemed to be engrossed in reading a novel but Nick noticed he never went near the water, not to swim, to surf or even to wade in.

He could have a water phobia, or else he was the latest PI.

He wasn’t certain which until he glimpsed the same man later that day. He and Kate were sitting outside munching fish tacos at a restaurant near her surf shop. Her lessons were done, her hair and eyelashes spiky from the salt and she glowed with health and, he liked to believe, with happiness.

She ate both her tacos and then, to his amazement, reached over and helped herself to his onion rings.

She didn’t even realize what she’d done and he wasn’t going to tell her. She was telling him a story about one of her students, her face was animated, alive, and he felt love squeeze his heart.

Which was not as pleasant as he’d always thought love would be. Where was the constant glow? He’d imagined love would be a lot like that post sex rush, when the world seems like a great place and everything is slightly better. And love was a bit like that, but there was a dark side he’d never expected. He worried about Kate. He wanted her to be safe, happy, he wanted everything to go right for her.

His blood boiled at the scruffy snoop who settled a few tables away and ordered a wrap. Exactly what Nick would have ordered in his position because if Kate left the restaurant, he could grab the wrap to go.

“Surf’s going to be strong in about an hour,” she told him. “My lessons are done.”

He hesitated. Should he tell her about the investigator tracking her every move? No doubt snapping photos of her and Nick even now?

She caught his expression and teased. “What? You worried you’ll fall off your board Seattle Boy?”

“Not if my teacher is any good.”

“Okay, the challenge is on. Let’s go.”

She jumped up, and he threw cash on the table to cover the meal.

As they headed out, he noticed the scruffy PI also threw money on the table and grabbed his wrap to go.

They surfed for an hour. He was beginning to get the hang of it and Kate had decided he was now good enough to head out into the deeper water without killing himself or another surfer. High praise from Kate.

He discovered there was no rush quite like the feeling when he caught a wave. When he judged the moment right and let it carry him, getting to his feet and then standing exactly at the moment the wave picked him up, like a waiter carrying a tray through a busy restaurant.

He was still learning and between getting dumped off the board many more times than not plus having to paddle back out to the deeper water and wait for another wave, it was tiring work. But he loved every minute of it, especially when he was with the world’s sexiest surf instructor.

There was one time that he caught a wave and Kate caught the next one in the set, so they ended up near the beach, laughing. “That was awesome,” she cried.

He wanted to grab her to him and kiss her so badly his whole body ached with the need, but he knew scruffy was out there with a pinhole camera and he had no intention of giving the dude any information that could make Kate look bad. All the PI had seen so far was them having a meal and surfing together. Unless Ted saw the photos and recognized him, he was simply another student.

Even if Ted did look at the photos there was no story. They were lunching together, surfing. So what?

They took a short break and a young couple walked by, holding hands. Their pale skin proclaimed they were on vacation.

The woman came up to him. “Excuse me, would you take our picture?”

“Sure.”

He rose and snapped a few photos as the couple snuggled together, smiling.

When he passed back the phone, she said, “Thanks. Want me to take one of you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That would be great.”

Kate scrambled to her feet and he put an arm around her. He handed the woman his smart phone and she snapped a few photos of the two of them.

They said their goodbyes and he and Kate headed back into the surf.

They rode the waves through the sunset and he thought watching Kate silhouetted against the glow of the setting sun was a picture he’d carry in his mind forever.

As the sun went down, the surf died right along with it. They headed in and grabbed their stuff, then walked up the beach. He was finally carrying his board like a real surfer. She said, “You want to come to my place?”

He hesitated, then decided to tell her the truth. “I would love to, but I think you’re being followed.”

“I know. That bearded guy with the bad board shorts?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

She raised her eyebrows. “He’s not the first PI who’s tailed me. Besides, he asked me about lessons earlier. But his questions made me suspicious. Then I saw him again at the restaurant.”

“He’s a really bad PI.”

She huffed in protest. “Or I’m a very smart woman.”

He grinned at her. “Okay, that one. Anyway, it’s probably better if we stay below the radar.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s probably making a report right now.”

“Good. I think it’s excellent. He can see me obviously intimate with someone else. I hope he tells Ted.”

“You don’t care?”

“No.” She came closer, spoke softly. “The second you and I got intimate, it was over forever with me and Ted.”

He felt the thrill, maybe not his noblest thought, but he’d won the rarest prize when he’d won this woman’s heart.

Or had he?

She wasn’t telling him she was in love with him. She was telling him that, in sleeping with him, she was saying no to Ted. Which didn’t necessarily translate into a big Yes for him.

“Okay, then. I’ll come to your place.”

“Do you think he can see us in the dark?” she asked softly.