For the Love of Katie Read online

  Table Of Contents

  The City of Light

  We Now Return to Your Regularly Scheduled Program

  I Didn’t Know I Was Even in the Closet

  Does My Insecurity Make Me Look Fat?

  Margaritas and Señoritas

  Hair Today, Goo Gone Tomorrow

  Bedazzle My Heart

  How many glasses of champagne do I have to drink before finding a ring at the bottom?

  Hurricane Dom

  Someone Wicked This Way Comes

  Red Roses and Little White Lies

  Maybe I Should’ve Read Between the Lines

  Congratulations to the Happy Couple

  Daddy’s Little Girl

  Colette Bridal Couture

  You Can’t Argue With Tradition

  It’s Raining Men

  Cruise Queens

  The Meat Packers

  Mission Improbable

  Diplomatic Hilarity

  Chickens and Goats and Cows, Oh My!

  Dead Men Recite No Vows

  I’ll See Your Vicar and Raise You One Tart

  I Now Pronounce You

  Back to the Future

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For the Love of Katie

  The Katie Chronicles™

  A Red Adept Publishing Book

  Red Adept Publishing, LLC

  104 Bugenfield Court

  Garner, NC 27529

  http://RedAdeptPublishing.com/

  Copyright © 2017 by Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved.

  First Edition: April 2017

  Thank you for downloading this Red Adept Publishing eBook

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  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  To Colleen

  For keeping Cooper alive…

  The City of Light

  Just over a month ago, when Cooper and I boarded the plane for Paris, I figured I’d make the best of it. While Cooper worked, I would stay out of trouble—take in the sights, maybe shop a little… oh, and eat. I fully expected to devour as many pastries as I could get my hands on. When I hit four months pregnant, the cravings had gotten out of control, and I had an entire French dictionary of delights I wanted to sample. But never in my wildest dreams—and trust me, I had an impressive imagination—did I envision I’d end up shackled to a cold metal chair in a dingy Paris police station. Yet, there I was, cuffed to the armrest and engaged in an epic stare-a-thon with the hairy, fishnet-wearing cross-dresser across the room.

  “Excuse me!” I rattled the steel bracelet to get someone’s—anyone’s—attention. Meanwhile, all around me, the room hummed with conversation, but I couldn’t understand a single word. My French was limited to “Ou sont les toilettes?” and “Puis-je avoir un autre croissant, sil vous plait?” So unless I had to pee—an occupational hazard these days—or someone came around with a pastry tray, I was out of luck.

  Tearing my attention from Dr. Frankenfurter in the corner, I sucked in a breath to calm my jangled nerves. I caught a whiff of what smelled like week-old curried french fries and stale cigarettes, a lethal combination to a pregnant woman’s stomach. Where were the fresh-ground coffee and the hot buttery pastries? It had been hours since I’d last eaten, and I would’ve flat out killed for a baguette right about then.

  Instead, I was surrounded by a veritable sea of crumpled McDonald’s bags and ancient tacos, reminding me of the Atlanta police station and destroying every notion I’d ever had about the City of Light. Not that I’d spent that much time being interrogated by police. There was just that once—not counting the time one of my clients tried to blow up the bank—but I’d definitely expected the Paris experience to be a little more… I don’t know… fancy?

  Middle-aged police inspector Henri Gaspard—apparently the only person on duty in the 4th arrondissement of Paris who spoke English—swept into the room and dropped into his chair with more than just a little exasperation. He bounced the business end of his pen against a blank pad of paper, tapping out a jagged rhythm. He stopped mid-motion to glare at me from the opposite side of his desk.

  “Do you mind?” His French-accented English came out in a rich baritone as his beady brown eyes flicked from my face to my wrist and back again.

  Following the path of his eyes, I glanced down to the steel bracelet I’d been absently banging against seat of my chair and froze mid-swing. “Actually, yes, I do.” I gave the handcuffs another shake. “Are these really necessary? I’m hardly a flight risk.” I was far from graceful before the baby bump got in the way. And with the scary four-inch heels strapped to my swollen feet, I’d be lucky to make it halfway across the room without breaking my neck.

  “Bien sûr que non.” He flashed a halfhearted grin but didn’t make a move to release me. “Are you ready to tell me who you really are and why you felt compelled to elude an entire security team to gain access to a restricted area?”

  “Take a closer look at my face. Are you sure you don’t recognize me?” My picture—well, Cooper’s picture, but I’d been standing next to him in most of them—had been splashed across all the local papers.

  “Hmm.” He squinted as he scanned me from top to bottom, swishing his thick rodent-like mustache back and forth beneath his enormous nose.

  I looked bad. I knew I did. Partly by accident—I didn’t intend to get my hair caught in that gnarled bush—but partly by design. The goth makeup, the tight black cat-burglar leggings, and matching turtleneck were all meant to conceal my identity. It was the perfect disguise on the set of a vampire movie. But Gaspard’s intense scrutiny made me squirm.

  “I think I have seen you somewhere before. Ah, yes.” He tapped his upturned lips with a long finger. “Turn around.”

  “What?” I blinked at his amused expression.

  He made a circular motion with his finger, and I twisted my body as far as I could while still tethered to the chair. Several feet behind me, chained to a long bench against the back wall, sat six women, all dressed in black with varying degrees of dark goth makeup.

  “Mr. Maxwell’s other admirers.” Gaspard’s voice drew my attention from the row of doppelgängers, and I turned just in time to see him wipe the grin from his face.

  “I must admit you’re the only one who claims to be his wife, though at least five of the six have named him as their sire. I assume you know what that means.”

  I rolled my eyes. Is he serious? Of course I knew what it meant. I’d been Elizabeth Jayne’s biggest fan before I realized she was really Cooper. I knew all about vampires and their sires.

  “Now, where were we?” He cleared his throat and repositioned his pen above the notepad. “I believe you were about to tell me who you really are.”

  I let out a huff, ruffling his salt-and-pepper comb-over. “I’ve already—”

  “Humor me. I’d like to hear it again.” He relaxed into his seat, folding his arms between us. His judge-y eyes burned matching holes into my forehead. “You have no identification, no phone. You don’t appear to have bathed—”

  I speared him with an icy glare. So much for my disguise. “I told the arresting officer I left my purse at the hotel. I only brought the room key with me.”

  He covered his chuckle with a cough. “Why don’t we start with what brings you to Paris?”

  “Fine.” I shifted my weight in the uncomfortable chair. “As I’ve already stated, my husband and I arrived—”

  “And who is your husband?” Mr. Impatient interrupted.

  I blinked a few times before answering. This was getting ridiculous. Where’s the trust? “Coo-per Max-well.” I stretched out the name to be sure he understood me this time. Maybe his English wasn’t any better than my French.

  His dubious expression annoyed me as he jotted down something I couldn’t make out. “The author?”

  “Yes!” I started to jump to my feet before remembering I was chained in place. “I’ve already told you this at least a dozen times.”

  “Mais oui, but I’m still as unconvinced as I was at the start. Let’s pretend you really were traveling with Mr. Maxwell.”

  “Because I was!”

  “Why prowl around, watching him from the shadows? Someone might suggest you were spying on him.”

  My temper flared just as my stomach gave a rumble of dissatisfaction. “Hell, yes, I was spying on him. He’s my husband!”

&nbs
p; Gaspard rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Americans,” then dug a finger into the hair above his ear and scratched. “I think I have a simple solution to our dilemma.” He picked up the cracked handset of his antique desk phone and punched in a series of numbers. “We’ll just ask Mr. Maxwell—”

  “Noooo!” This time, I did bolt out of my seat, nearly snapping my wrist in half in the process. My insides plummeted to my toes, and the bread I’d only dreamed of devouring threatened to make an appearance. Cooper couldn’t find out about my covert mission, not until I figured out exactly what he was up to. My voice shook as I shrieked at Gaspard from across the desk. “You can’t call Cooper. He’ll kill me!”

  Inspector Gaspard’s bushy brows jumped toward his hairline as his breath whistled in and out past parted lips. “Kill you? Explain.”

  I froze at the expression on Gaspard’s face. He still gripped the phone in his hand. “Oh. Um. I didn’t mean kill kill. No, he’s not—” A nervous laugh escaped my throat. “It’s not like he’s an assassin. I mean, I did think he was. Once. But that was a just great big mistake, a colossal misunderstanding.” If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard that little phrase… but in this case, it also happened to be true. In my defense, the evidence had been stacked against him. Random dead bodies, mysterious bank deposits, and a high-powered rifle were pretty compelling by themselves. But added together? What other conclusion is a girl supposed to come to? How was I supposed to know he simply wrote books about killing people? Of course, I knew better now. Cooper Maxwell was no killer. But he was definitely hiding something. Of that, I was certain.

  Gaspard screwed up his face and dropped back into his chair. “Relax, mademoiselle. Sit down.”

  I gulped in a lungful of air, willing my trigger-happy hormones to stand down. I blew out the breath and settled into the chair again. “I’m sorry. It’s just… well, it’s a long story.”

  “Aren’t they all?” He sighed. “Perhaps you should start from the beginning.”

  The beginning? If I was going to delve into this story, I’d need sustenance first. “Could I get a glass of water? And can you please remove the cuffs? They hurt.”

  The inspector crooked his finger, and a uniformed man who looked a few years younger than me walked over. Gaspard whispered in his ear, and the man pulled out a key and unfastened the shackles at my wrists. Then Gaspard dug through his bottom drawer, reaching out to me with a room-temperature bottle of water he’d pulled from the chaos.

  “Thank you.” I unscrewed the cap and took a swig.

  He waved off my gratitude. “Continue, sil vous plait.”

  If he wanted the beginning, he’d get the beginning. With one last deep, cleansing breath, I launched into my story. “Cooper and I had been dating for less than a month when everything came crashing down around me. He might not’ve been an assassin, but he lied to me about who he really was.”

  “And who was he?” Gaspard leaned forward, abandoning his pen to rest his elbows on the desk in front of him.

  “As I’m sure you know, he’s world-renowned author Cooper Maxwell, the son of British diplomats. And unbeknownst to me, I was his biggest fan. I should have been delighted. I loved those books. But instead, his admission made me furious. I’d made a complete fool out of myself in front of everyone I knew. I’d even managed to involve my mother—the absolute last person I’d ever want involved with my love life.”

  “And what happened after you found out?”

  “I left him. What else is a girl to do?”

  Gaspard smiled. “What else, indeed?”

  “That was just over a year ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I said my last good-bye and stormed out of the bank, leaving Cooper openmouthed and brokenhearted. I left my whole life behind, never to look back.”

  Gaspard popped up an eyebrow.

  “Okay, so maybe I looked back through a blur of tears. But I still did it…”

  I’d barely cleared the main doors of the bank before the hyperventilating started. I’d done it. I’d taken charge of my life. Why did I feel so damned empty?

  After hiccupping and shaking my way across the parking lot, praying Cooper hadn’t followed me out the door—yet secretly hoping he had—I climbed into my car, cranked up the radio, and rested my head on the steering wheel to have a good cry. Etta James almost managed to drown out my sobs while I struggled to get the train wreck that was my emotions in check. I knew I’d never make it home in this condition.

  What have I done?

  Did I really just quit my job and break up with my boyfriend? My fingers ached, tingling as I tightened my grip on the wheel. My whole life was in that bank. I’d just walked out on everything—and everyone—I’d known for the past year.

  At the sudden realization, I picked up my head and stared at the building in my rearview mirror. What sort of idiot walks out on the only man she ever loved because he wasn’t an assassin trying to kill her? Me, that’s who. Poor pathetic Katie James. My mother would be so ashamed.

  I closed my eyes, and Cooper’s devastated face waited for me behind my lids. Why did I have to be so stupid? Why couldn’t I just forgive him for his little white lies and live happily ever after?

  My driver’s-side door flew open, and before I could get a scream out, a pair of warm hands reached for me, dragging me from the car.

  “If you think for even one damn minute I’m letting you leave me like that…” Cooper growled, gripping the tops of my arms as if I might flee if he let go. Determination lined his handsome face. “What do I have to do for you to believe how much I love you?”

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

  “Katie, please say something.” Desperation clouded his voice.

  “I-I love you too?” I felt the tension drain from him at my whispered words.

  His face split in a wide grin, and he used his thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Damn right, you do.”

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was as much to blame as he was.

  He rested his forehead against mine. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is my fault. All my fault.”

  I wound my arms around his neck, weaving my fingers into his thick, dark hair. “I forgive you.”

  “I promise I’ll never keep anything from you again,” he murmured as he placed light kisses on the corners of my mouth.

  “And did he keep his promise?” Gaspard asked, at the edge of his seat.

  I had to shake myself to clear the memory. “Would I be here if he had?”

  We Now Return to Your Regularly Scheduled Program

  Exactly three weeks from the day I’d nearly kissed my perfect life good-bye, everything seemed, well… perfect—at least on the surface. The weather had taken a turn for the better, and Cooper had finally finished An Immortal Heart, the last book in his Immortal Blood vampire romance series, secretly written under his mother’s name, Elizabeth Jayne. That very same book had caused so many of the misunderstandings between us. Naturally, I hated it before reading even a single word.

  Oh, Cooper had no idea I harbored such negative feelings toward his latest masterpiece, and if I had my way, he’d never find out. Unfortunately, finishing the book was only the beginning. Little did I know, I’d still have a rival for his attention.

  “Can’t you just meet with her over Skype? Is it really necessary for you to fly all the way across the country?” Immature or not, I pouted as Cooper tossed clothes into a suitcase.

  He gave me a pointed glare, but his lips quirked into a smile, despite his attempt to hide it. “It’s work, Katie. Nothing else.”

  “Humph.” I pulled a pillow over my face. I could hear my mother now. That’s what they all say. Just ask Vicky.

  He bent down to tug the pillow away and planted a kiss directly on the furrow between my brows. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you you’d get a wrinkle if you made that face?”

  Did he really just bring up my mother? My mouth dropped open like a bigmouth bass. “You promised.”