But he was a big boy and adults had to do shitty things sometimes. He glanced down at the two takeout coffee cups in his hands. Maybe caffeine would soften the blow, make him seem like less of a dick as they handled this touchy subject.
Balancing one cup in the crook of his elbow, he knocked on the security screen to the catering kitchen. The main door was open and he could see movement inside, which meant she had to be there. Thursday at four might not be the best time for this sort of thing, but he doubted there would ever be a perfect time.
Before he could call out a greeting, a face appeared on the other side of the mesh. “Can I help you?”
He had no idea who this lady was or how she fit in with the business. “I’m here to see Katie.”
“Katie Long?”
Hell, he could see the woman’s scowl through the screen. “Yeah, Katie.”
The woman didn’t say anything.
“Is this a bad time?” Eric asked, thinking it couldn’t possibly be a good time. Nothing good came out of a facial expression like that.
“Come in.” She went from comatose to rushing to get the door open and motion him inside.
This was not exactly the neighborhood where women should welcome strange men inside, daytime or not. To prevent any confusion or being hit with a baseball bat, he held out his free hand and switched to charm mode. “I’m Eric Kimura.”
“I know.” And she didn’t sound too happy about that fact, either.
He would never get used to that part of his job. “You recognize me from the newspapers?”
She dropped his hand and started wringing her towel between her fingers with enough force to turn the tips blue. “Of course. You’re in them all the time.”
“Not by choice, I assure you.”
It was an unfortunate side effect of his work. He’d prefer to keep to his office and the courtroom, but a string of high-profile cases had him out in front of the cameras all too often. Then when the current prosecuting attorney and Eric’s boss, Frank Yashita, announced his intention to leave for a position with the Department of Justice in Washington, D.C., the race to replace him was on. As the obvious successor and interim boss, Eric had not had two seconds of peace since.
She glanced down at the drinks in his hand. “I don’t understand why you’re here.”
Not the warmest welcome he’d ever gotten from a woman, but he’d had worse. “I’m here to see Katie.”
“What did she do?”
His mouth curved down before he could stop it. “Excuse me?”
“She promised me this was over.”
Hands on hips, nostrils flaring—yeah, this woman was pissed. Eric had no idea how introducing himself had caused that reaction. Instead of running the risk of further ticking her off, he went ahead nice and slow. “Okay.”
The woman waved her hand in the air. “No more police.”
“I’m not the police.” But he sure as hell was intrigued. A little concerned, too. When he talked with Katie about everything else, he’d ask about that.
“She’s been working so hard. She takes such good care of Ashleigh.”
Damn, did Katie have a kid? “Who is Ashleigh?”
“My daughter.”
His stomach stopped dropping. “And you are?”
“Her sister.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m Cara Long.”
He saw it now. Darker hair but the same shocking blue to her eyes. A little older with a bit less of a wild child look about her, but definitely related.
“You need to just tell me,” Cara said and then held onto the counter behind her as if it were the only thing keeping her up.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Eric?”
Finally. “Katie?”
He spun around and watched her walk through the unlocked door behind him. She balanced two bags of groceries in her arms and looked about as thrilled to see him as she would have been to be told she had the plague.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
So far he was zero-for-two in the ladies department. “I came to see you.”
Katie glanced at her sister and then right back to him. “Did you run the whole way?”
It was official. He couldn’t follow either of the Long women’s conversations. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You seem mighty thirsty.”
“What?” Great, now she had him repeating the stupid word every time he opened his mouth.
She nodded in the general direction of his hands. “The drinks?”
“Oh.” Once again, she stepped in front of him and his brain hiccupped. To keep from dousing his shirt with scalding hot coffee or worse, he set the cups down and took the bags out of her hands. “Where do these go?”
“Counter.” Katie followed him and dropped her keys beside his hand. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Cara kept right on staring, looking both stunned and annoyed. “You two know each other?”
“Yes.” Katie picked up the cup then hid her mouth behind it, but Eric saw her smile.
Cara didn’t let it go. She stood in front of her sister, her attention never wavering. “Professionally?”
Katie sighed. “Of course not.”
“For the record, I don’t know what that means,” Eric said, now dreading his future conversation with Katie.
“Stop being so dramatic, Cara.” Katie took a long sip of coffee. “And negative. We met at Deana and Josh’s wedding.”
If anything, Cara’s frown deepened. “I see.”
Eric waited for the pinprick of pain that always followed the mention of Deana’s name, but the stab didn’t come. This time it was more of a dull ache. His current high level of confusion somehow must have blocked the majority of the blow. And since the sisters were engaged in some sort of showdown he didn’t understand, he stayed quiet.
Katie shot her sister a this-conversation-is-over glare before turning back to him. “No crime today?”
He shook his head and played along. “None.”
“Good job. Maybe I will vote for you.”
He treated her to a formal bow. “My campaign manager will be thrilled to hear that.”
Katie smiled. “Do you bring all potential voters coffee?”
“I don’t make enough money for that.”
“Then why are you here?” Cara asked for what felt like the fifteenth time.
“Cara!”
“To see your sister.” His answer hadn’t changed but he was starting to wonder if it should.
“And you knew where to find her?”
Since the game of Twenty Annoying Questions hadn’t ended, Eric