Not Quite Mine

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?

“You said you wanted a—” His words drifted off as his gaze fell behind her.

Katelyn found her smile and turned toward the man she’d hired. She sent a quick prayer to anyone listening that Patrick was as good as his résumé said. He needed to slip from the room without Dean questioning who he was.

Patrick moved a little closer to the door and placed a hand on her arm. “He doesn’t look like room service.”

“He’s not.” Katie twisted toward Dean and felt the air chill.

Dean stepped into the suite, his eyes narrowed to daggers. “Dean Prescott,” Dean said, waiting for Patrick to say something.

Patrick lifted a hand for Dean to shake. “Ben Sanderson.”

“Dean and I work together at my brother’s hotel,” she explained.

Patrick nodded and finished shaking Dean’s hand.

“The one under construction?”

“That’s right.”

Patrick nodded and turned his attention on Katie. “I’ll call you. Dean, a pleasure.”

And then he disappeared leaving Katie to explain his presence.

Yet as she was closing the door behind Patrick, she realized she didn’t owe Dean anything. He was the one showing up unexpectedly. The best offense was to put Dean on the defense. Or distract him. Good thing Katie knew how to do both.