His sister.
Prove them fraudulent and protect Jane. Though lately, the idea they were true con artists was drifting away. Lately, he'd begun to think they actually believed in this ridiculous happily-ever-after nonsense. And if they weren't straight criminals and just misguided, he had a bigger problem on his hands.
Because belief and hope in a concept that really didn't exist was neither a crime nor punishable by law.
Slade deftly changed the subject. "Are Ken and Arilyn married?"
"No."
He pondered the answer and jabbed off the cuff to try and wring out some truth. "So, if you're a witch and cast spells, how come you didn't find love for your two best friends?"
The air between them heightened. Kate gripped the wineglass so tightly he worried it would shatter within her grip. "They're not ready. I was only being facetious, counselor. Making sure you won't be able to sue me for any misguided claims such as love spells that fail."
"That's what you wanted me to think, but I still don't believe you."
She gave a delicate shrug. "That is your right."
He decided to push. "Do you light up most men you touch?"
Kate stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do. That was no regular kiss. It was something else, and you don't want to admit it."
Bingo. The distance shrank and temper lifted her chin. "Don't kiss me anymore and you won't have any problems."
"That is a problem."
"Why?"
He dropped his voice. "Because I like kissing you."
She jerked. "Trust me; I'm the complete opposite of what you need."
"How do you know what I need?"
His flirty tone seemed to piss her off. Sparks shot from ocean-blue eyes and reminded him of a tsunami of temper. "Because I interviewed you, remember? The only reason you're suddenly interested in me is some perverse masculine challenge to win me over because I don't like you."
Damn, this was more fun than his last court battle. "Why wouldn't you like me? I'm charming, successful, intelligent, and a great lover. Wanna test me out?"
Her gaze narrowed. "I know your game, Montgomery. You signed up for this thing as a joke and to keep an eye on your sister. You think you'll waltz through these dates, and I'll keep you amused while you poke at me and have your fun. But I've got news for you. I play by my own rules, and by the end of this contract, I'll rip down those neat little walls you built and show you what it's like to be in love. Real love. Not the kind of crap you play at. I'm gonna do it for two reasons. One, I'm damn good at my job."
"What's the second?"
She smiled, slow and deliberate, imitating the symbol of Eve and everything a man would give up just for a taste of a poison apple. "Because payback is a bitch."
His heart thundered at her warning, almost as if she had cast a spell on him like a hard-core gypsy. She put her glass on the bar and spun on her heel. "Where are you going?"
"Home. My party mood has disappeared and someone is waiting for me. Someone who reminds me that love and emotion are real, and not some mocking game played by arrogant lawyers."
A strange panic stirred in his gut. "You didn't tell me you were in a serious relationship! Who's waiting home for you?"
She threw him a pitying glance. "His name is Robert, and you're not worthy to say his name. Good night."
Kate stalked off and left him wondering if he'd pushed both of them too far.
Who the hell was Robert?
And why did he care?
"BABY, YOU'RE HERE!"
Kate stepped over the threshold and got smothered by her mother's enthusiastic greeting. Strong, tanned arms wrapped around her neck and squeezed like a pumped-up boa constrictor. The familiar scents of incense and pot drifted in the air of the cozy lake house in upstate New York, luring pedestrians through the doors with a promise of pleasure.
Kate hugged her back and fought off the rest of the embrace in order to breathe. "Mom, what if you get busted by the police? For God's sake, at least close the door and windows when you smoke." Madeline Seymour laughed and shook her head in easy amusement. White-blonde hair similar to Kate's shimmered in the rays of sunlight.
"No one wants to arrest an old lady, darling. Want some? You're way too tense, I can tell from the set of your shoulders." Her mother's tall, elegant body was clad in hot pink yoga pants, halter top, and her usual bamboo beads to promote health. Her bare feet padded over the worn wooden floors toward the back of her makeshift workout/meditation/drug studio. Kate had been raised in the hippie era where free love, peace, health, and spiritual kindness are the tokens of a good life. Madeline ate only vegetarian foods, wore organic clothing, grew an herbal garden to rival Vitamin World, and held retreats at her lake bungalow for women searching for their inner Goddess. When Kate was a teenager, she'd caught sight of her mother on a harvest moon night, naked and singing with a bunch of other females around a fire. That had ended in an epic battle with tears, rage, and a vow to never talk to her mother for embarrassing her like that again.
Kate respected the philosophies her parents raised her with but hadn't dealt easily with combining the real world she craved with her mother's cringe-worthy ideals. Arilyn, of course, adored her and said Madeline was the last great hippie left in New York.
Kate shrugged out of her coat and eased onto a purple-seated cushioned chair. The Buddha statue dominated the room, with wildly painted murals on the wall to inspire relaxation and flow. "No, thanks. Sobriety is a goal of mine."
Her mother floated across the room and settled on a plump gold cushion on the floor. She hit the Remote button and the sounds of chanting monks cut abruptly off. "I just finished my yoga practice and decided to meditate before my client tonight. He's having some problems with impotency, and I thought we'd try some controversial methods. I need clarity beforehand."
Even after all these years, knowing her mother was a sex therapist still had the same affect. Sheer discomfort. Then guilt. Who wanted to think of a parent having sex, let alone with a bunch of strangers in order to help them? Besides not being able to speak clearly, she grew up trying to hide her mother's occupation from the world. "TMI, Mom," she said.
"Sorry, dear. Now, what brings you? It's been a while."
Kate squirmed. "I'm sorry; I've been so busy with Kinnections. Are you okay out here? You'd tell me if you needed anything, right?"
Madeline smiled. In her late fifties, her face glowed like a younger woman's, unlined, smooth as glass, soft as butter. Deep blue eyes lit up her face, reminding Kate of Michelle Pfeiffer, a beautiful presence most people couldn't stand to look away from. "I'm fine. Seeing someone new who's wonderful and making me happy. Are you having sex, dear?"
Kate sighed. "Sure, Mom. I'm having lots of sex, thanks for asking."
"Don't lie. You're so stopped up with emotion my skin is tingling. How many times have I told you a good orgasm is a release of toxins in both the body and mind? Did you get the vibrator I sent you last week?"
This was so not happening. No wonder she never visited. Kate fought for calm. "I got it. There are so many speeds and buttons it's taking me a while to go through the instruction manual. Umm, can we focus here?"
"Of course. Tell me the problem."
"I j-j-just had a few questions. About Dad. About the touch."
Madeline nodded in encouragement. "You can ask me anything. You know how much I loved your father and I'd never hide anything from you."
Yes. How many times had she prayed to not know certain information? Sometimes she felt as if she was born into a family she never understood or identified with until the touch had visited her and she realized she was blood. She was only fourteen when her father passed from a heart attack, and she'd been enraged at her mother's ability to move on. Until she came to understand later that it was the only way Madeline knew how to cope with the loss of her soul mate. The other men were mere distractions in a world that had seeped color and a desperate attempt to fill a void only
her father managed to soothe.
For one strange instant, an image of Slade drifted past her vision. What was one of the requirements on his list for his perfect woman?
No embarrassing family secrets.
Good God, he'd go screaming for the hills of The Sound of Music if he got one good look at her mother and heard her history. And why the hell was she thinking of him again anyway? His date with Hannah tonight would be perfect. She'd left him a polite voicemail message asking if he needed any advice or support and he never got back to her. Obviously, he had everything under control. She just hoped he didn't break her ironclad rules and try to seduce Hannah.
"Kate? You said you had questions?"
She dragged herself back to the present and swore she wouldn't think about Slade Montgomery again. Ever. For real. "I know you used to tell me about how you connected with Dad immediately on contact. But now I want to hear specifics. Was it a gut feeling? Did you get dizzy? Or did your skin tingle?"
Madeline smiled with the memory. "Oh, no, it was much more intense than that. Your father and I went to shake hands and an electrical shock jolted us immediately. It was the strangest thing--almost like I stuck a wet finger in a socket. Benjamin Franklin's famous kite had nothing on us."