Rico owned and operated a highly successful private investigative firm. Garcia and Associates was and always would be his baby, his life. He’d built the elite and discreet agency to the level where he had a top-notch office staff and the most skilled and professional private investigators in the business. He could probably take some time off—if he wanted to. But he thrived on having the focus his work provided.
The intercom light flashed, then buzzed.
Beep. “Mr. Garcia?”
“Yes, Margie.”
“Your mother is on line three.”
“Thanks.” Rico let the Rolodex cards slip through his fingers. He hadn’t talked to his mom in weeks and hoped everything was all right. He worried about her sometimes.
No, make that a lot.
He pressed the lit button on line three and took his mother’s call. “Hey, stranger. What’s up?”
“Oh, Rico. You’ll never believe what happened.” His mom’s voice, while innately cheerful, held an even more upbeat tone than usual. “I have wonderful news.”
“What’d you do? Hit the lottery?”
“No. It’s much better than that.”
Better than money?
He didn’t like the sound of that already. He’d spent the first twenty years of his life living with and looking after his sweet, softhearted but gullible mother. And her “good news” always put his skeptical nature on alert.
She’d better not be talking about another pyramid scheme she’d been roped into. The last time, he’d had to put some pressure on the guy who’d preyed on divorcées and widows, making him give the money back. Then he’d turned the sorry son of a bitch in to the local police.
His mother had gotten her investment back—that time.
“Listen, I’ve only got a couple of minutes before my next appointment, Mom. Why don’t you just tell me your good news?”
“Well, all right. I’ve met the most wonderful man in the world. And I’ve fallen in love.”
Oh, for cripes sake. Again?
It’s not as though Rico didn’t want to see his mom happy, but he’d been through enough heartbreak with her as it was. He just wished she’d stop believing that some Romeo was going to ride into her life and carry her away to a castle in the sky.
She, more than anyone, ought to know that.
“Rico?” she asked. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, Mom. I heard you.”
“You’re not excited?”
Hell no, he wasn’t excited. At fifty-two, his mother had been married four times already. When was she going to put away those fairy-tale dreams and call it quits?
But damn, he couldn’t snap at her like that. She’d probably start crying. And Lord knew he couldn’t handle her tears.
He leaned back in his chair, leather creaking. “You know I want to see you happy, Mom. But who is this guy?”
“His name is Daniel Osterhout. He’s a dentist. And he’s my soul mate.”
A soul mate, huh? Well, that’s a term she’d never used before. Couldn’t she just sleep with the guy? Why did she have to marry every man she was attracted to?
“How long have you known him?”
“Nearly a month.”
“That’s not very long.”
“It seems as though I’ve known him forever.”
Rico sighed.
“Oh, come on, honey,” she said softly. “I understand your skepticism, but Daniel is different. You’ll see. And someday you’re going to meet someone special, too.”
Rico rolled his eyes heavenward in a God-help-me way. He loved his mom, he really did. But he wished she wasn’t so trusting. Her heart had been tromped on many times in the past. And she certainly didn’t deserve the pain and disappointment she continually set herself up for.
Couldn’t she be just a little more realistic about love?
“Daniel and I have decided to get married in June,” she added, a singsong enthusiasm resonating in her voice. “What do you think?”
Truthfully?
Rico thought it was a joke to have a big hoopla, especially under the circumstances. Hell, this guy would be her fifth husband. “When you say wedding, you’re talking about a little ceremony down at the courthouse with a justice of the peace and a couple of witnesses, right?”
“Well, actually, Daniel and I would like a church wedding, an organist, a few close friends and family. That sort of thing.”
As far as Rico was concerned, that sort of thing sounded way too involved. But what the hell. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with June, as long as you’re sure about this.”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” She undoubtedly thought that would make him feel better.
It didn’t.
“Of course, I may need to borrow a little money,” she added. “The bride is supposed to put on the wedding, and I might come up a bit short.”
They both knew she wouldn’t be “borrowing” any money, but Rico would step up to the plate. He always did. Heck, he’d never been able to deny his mom anything.
Ever since his father died, it had been just the two of them—well, other than a progression of stepfathers who for some reason or another swung in and out of their lives as if they where traveling through a revolving door. Each one had offered a lonely mother and child the promise and hope of a family and then provided them everything but.
He glanced at Frank’s picture, picked it up. Okay, so that one hadn’t hurt them on purpose, but his unexpected death had left them alone and hurting just the same.
“All right,” he told his mom. “I’ll spring for the wedding if you’ll try and keep it small.”
They both knew Rico wasn’t a cheapskate. He could well afford a fancy wingding. But he wasn’t into dog-and-pony shows.
“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice getting all soft and mushy. “You’re so good to me.”
“Yeah? Well, you’ve been pretty good to me, too.”
They’d been through a lot together—more than their share of pain and struggles. There was a time when they’d both had to work to keep a roof over their heads, and Rico hadn’t even hit his teen years.
“I love you.”
“Me, too,” he told her. But the words weren’t necessary. She knew he loved her unconditionally even if she frustrated the hell out of him at times.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked again.
“Absolutely.”
Dead silence.
Then he blew out a sigh and reeled in his ever-present cynicism the best he could. “Okay. Then I’m happy for you.” Well, not exactly happy. Resigned, he supposed.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do a little background check on Prince Charming, D.D.S.
He picked up a pen. “What did you say this guy’s name was?”
“Daniel Osterhout.”
“Spell it.”
“You’re not