His mother actually did something he didn't think possible, he was starting to see Kate's viewpoint through her eyes.
Her women's intuition could very well be spot on about Katherine, that she has deep-rooted feelings for him, but whatever tragedy or trial is consuming her soul, interlaced with underlying fear, prevents her from feeling worthy of him.
And Gawd, he doesn't know what to do about it.
He put his heart on the line, asked her to stay the whole night with him; hell, even embarrassed himself by spouting off some poetry drivel of desire and devotion and she still chose to leave him.
He feels pathetic, lost to a woman who makes a professional living out of dating and fucking other men and yet, at the same time, he's on the verge of falling in love with the shattered woman beneath the glamorous Escort façade.
And her note was unmistakably 'goodbye'.
He pulls it out of the trash, smoothes out the paper as he glances over the words once more:
I'll never forget you.
Thank you for the most extraordinary night of my life.
You own a piece of my heart.
Kate
His gut churns in agony. How can he be positive she actually meant what she wrote? It could easily be her way of trying to lessen his pain, or her own guilt for that matter, or it could simply be she's trying to placate him.
He thinks about her leaving her panties behind, its significance, a momento to remember her by. His heart screams at him, it's for the sole purpose she doesn't want you forgetting any second of your night together.
As if he could, - a body that would give Bar Refaeli a run for her money, ballerina legs, lithe toned back, perfect muscular ass, six-pack abs and breasts that fit like they belong in his large hands.
As if he could ever forget her; the woman had insinuated herself into every fiber of his being and it would take years of emptiness and loneliness to try and move on.
As he looks at her handwriting once more, it's not the message she wrote that has his pulse quickening in hope, - it's the simple, meaningful gesture of signing it with her first name.
She could've left the note unsigned or with just her initials, she could've signed it as 'Diamond', or even just 'Beckett', but she chose the natural form of Katherine, and that one little gesture, in and of itself, means something special to her, - the woman hiding behind Diamond.
It inspires him to believe she just might be as affected by him as he is by her.
Dammit, he can't give up on the possibility of them, - at least, not quite yet. He's going to have to pull out every trick in his Casanova book and try one last time to reach her.
An idea suddenly strikes him and before he can rethink it, he's sitting at his computer desk and googling, 'aerial advertising NYC'. He briefly scans through the links and chooses a local company. He picks up his cell phone and dials the number.
"Hello, I'd like to have a personal banner flown around the Manhattan area this weekend and if it's possible, particularly focusing on Central Park."
After setting up the details, keeping his fingers crossed that Kate, or someone close to her, will see his message, he scrolls through his contact list on his phone and hits the button to call a specific Agency.
If he's going to expose himself to the possibility of devastating rejection once more, he needs to know who he's doing it for.
"Could this possibly be thee Richard Castle?" a familiar voice on the opposite end of the line chuckles. "What did I do to deserve a call from the great mystery author?"
"Hello, Chad, and how is the best Private Investigator in Manhattan doing?"
"Try the best in the entire state according to Crain's New York business magazine."
"Yeah, I know. I happen to be one of their top sponsors."
"I knew you had a hand in it, Rick. Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Your work speaks for itself. Which brings me to the reason for my call... I want to hire you."
"What's her name?" his college buddy teases him.
"What makes you think I want you to investigate a woman?"
"Because only a woman could hold this type of power over you, enticing you to learn more about her."
Rick chuckles, "You know me too well."
"Well enough."
"Her name is Katherine Beckett and she goes by Kate. I do know her first name starts with a 'K' but I don't know if it ends in 'ine' or 'yn'. She's around thirty years old, born and raised in Manhattan and attended Stuyvesant High School. Something happened in her life twelve years ago that changed her. I believe she suffered a deep tragedy, and one which I wouldn't be surprised to learn made headline news."
"What about her physical appearance?"
"She's a beautiful brunette, 5'9 or 5'10, green eyes, around 125 pounds, size 4. Hopefully that's enough information to get started with as I don't have much more on her."
"It's plenty. I've certainly done background checks with less."
"I can't express enough how important it is for you to be discreet. She cannot find out I initiated this investigation."
"Got it. I'll handle this personally and won't even utilize my employees. Rest assured Rick, she won't find out from me."
"Thank you, and there's a $5,000.00 bonus in it for you if I have the results by the end of this week."
"Consider it done."
Her invitation states if you're planning on bidding in the auction to come early so you have a chance to meet the eligible candidates beforehand.
Captain Montgomery had suggested arriving 30 minutes early to give her a chance to meet Doctor Davidson and make an impression on him. As she walks through the Rockefeller Center doors, she's surprised by the large crowd already present.
It's wonderful to see so many people here supporting the children's hospital; or more likely, she thinks humorously, the women are here on the prowl for a wealthy husband.
The hostess greets her with a smile and hands her a program. "Here's an agenda of the event tonight. It also includes a brief synopsis of the men who are up for auction. The bachelor's are standing in line along the far wall in alphabetical order. You're sure welcome to introduce yourself to any or all of them. Enjoy your evening."
"Thank you. I will."
Kate quickly scans through the program. There's a former FBI agent named Gordon Aaron; A retired police chief, Victor Abay, a hottie fireman, Justin Beacham, and an author…
Holy Shit! Her steps falter as Richard Castle's name jumps off the card, his blue eyes as penetratingly gorgeous on the photo as they are in person.
And of course, (damn happenstance) Doctor Joshua Davidson is in line right next to him.
Thank God there are several women ahead of her. She finds a fairly secluded spot behind an Asian plant and hones in on the author in question.
She rolls her eyes dramatically as he has identical twins standing in front of him, blond with pixie haircuts, petite, with enormous fake boobs and matching fake eyelashes.
As she watches the two sisters, obviously attracted to him, one reaches out and grabs his bicep, hands roaming over the muscle, while the other slings her hand around his neck, pulling him towards her, planting a kiss on his cheek.
The little green monster rears its ugly head and starts worming its way through the soles of her feet, up along her calves, swirling over her thighs, across her abdomen and slinks further up where it takes hold of her chest and bites painfully into her heart.
She can hear his racy laughter from 20 yards away, and as her eyes glare daggers at the blond hussies, she can practically hear them outrageously flirting with him… Barbie and Bambi, she's dubbed them, the gussied-up bimbettes.
"Oh, Ricky, you look so handsome in a monkey suit."
"You're way more good-looking in person than in your photo."
"There's no possible way you have a teenage daughter. You look way too young."
"God, you're so much more muscular than I ever imagined."
"You know, we do everything together. We're a package deal. How would you like to un-wrap us later on tonight?"
There's no way she's letting her man be bought by these horny, identical sisters who are probably playing a twisted sex game, counting how many celebrities they can fuck together before they turn thirty.
She pulls out her disposable phone and nibbles on her lower lip anxiously while she waits for the line to be picked up.
"Gi - rl," the African-American voice drawls, drawing an immediate smile from Kate. "This better be important as I'm trying to finish up paperwork on my last autopsy and get the hell outta here so I can start my weekend."
"Lanie, thank goodness you picked up. I'm in a terrible jam and need your help."
"Oh no, you don't. The last time you asked for my help I ended up in a fancy bar with two diplomats who could barely speak a word of English, and one with slimy hands like an octopus."
Kate's laughter is immediate, "And you were generously paid for your time, and as I promised, you didn't have to remove a stitch of clothing."
"You're right, but I never again want to experience the drama of Indian men arguing over who's the better-looking woman, - the light-skinned marshmallow sauce or the dark chocolate fudge sauce."
"Ditto, and I wouldn't call you if I didn't desperately need your help… I'll owe you big time. In fact, the next time you and Esposito want to spend a spicy, romantic weekend together, I'll make sure to give him the time off."
"Uggh! You know my weakness. Shoot."
"Get dressed to the nines and get your sassy butt over to the Rockefeller Center pronto."
"Why?"
"Because they're having an auction here tonight for hunky bachelors and I need you to buy one for me."
"And why, pray tell, can't you bid on him yourself?"
"Because it's in the damn rules that you can only win one date and there happens to be two men I'm interested in tonight."
"Oh, no! You're not trapping me into this, Kate. This has trouble written all over it."
"It's extremely easy and I'll pay for him; you just have to smile and look sexy and speak to him for a few minutes and set a date to go out with him... Which of course, you won't attend."
"And do I know this guy you want me to bid on?"
"Yes," and Kate's grateful her overly-observant friend isn't standing in front of her right now or she'd see the pink hue staining her cheeks. "It's Richard Castle."
"The mystery novelist, Richard Castle?" she asks incredulously.
"Yes, one and the same."
"The same Richard Castle who blew your mind last week by giving you multiple orgasms with his sensual mouth and bold, writer hands?"
"Yes," she sighed, "that's him."
"The same man who spent a small fortune having a banner flown around New York City on two consecutive days which read, 'Missing the Diamond in my life. RC'?
"You already know the answer is yes," she huffs, "and if Captain Montgomery didn't have me on a job tonight I'd win his ass and thank him properly for deserving the title of, Sexiest-Man-of-the-Year, but I don't have a choice. I'm on the job and I have to buy someone else."
"Oh my God, Katherine Beckett, you have feelings for this author," and then she's squealing with delight, shrieking through the phone, jumping up and down excitedly. "I never thought I'd see the day. The illustrious Diamond, the woman whose motto is, I'll-never-need-a-man;-I-just-fuck-'em-and-leave-'em, has actually fallen for a red-blooded American male and a cocky, smooth-talkin', well-endowed one at that, - if you happen to believe the tabloids. Whew! I'm so happy for you."
She can perfectly picture the M.E.s gloating, outrageous smile. "Knock it off, Lanie. Are you going to help me out or not?"
"Just to confirm all the details... You need me to win a date with Rick Castle because you can't stand the thought of another woman's hands all over his smoking body."
"Umm," and she gnaws on the inside of her cheek in consternation. "I refuse to answer the question on the basis that it may incriminate me."
Riotous laughter reaches her ears. "I'll agree on one condition."
Uh-Oh, here it comes, Kate thought worriedly.
Lanie continues gleefully, "I'm going to pull out my tape recorder and have you repeat everything you just told me as I have to have on record that the untouchable, cold-hearted Diamond is head over heels for Richard freaking Edgar Castle."
"Get here in less than an hour," she grumbles and then hits the 'end' button on her phone.
She takes a deep breath and walks over to the line of women waiting to meet the bachelors.
It doesn't take long before Castle's baby blues zero in on her and with a smile that says, God-I've-never-been-so-happy-to-see-someone-in-my-life, he nods his head towards her in acknowledgement.
She exchanges niceties with the other men in line and can't keep a straight face when the hottie fireman, who looks like he moonlights as a Chippendale dancer, takes a step closer to her and hums, "I'm hoping to be the one who stokes your fire tonight."
She draws back from him and laughs, something sinfully teasing, and purrs, "Sorry Justin, you aren't my type. I prefer a man with a stimulating intellect over one who spends half his day in the gym trying to impress Playboy-Centerfold-wannabes."
And ohh, the red head in front of her is looking a bit too leeringly at Castle and is over zealously batting her eyelashes and shoving her cleavage into his face, asking him inane questions about how many books he's written...
Well, she's obviously not a true fan as everyone who is knows he's written twenty six books.
And then the floozy red-head's simpering something about wanting to fulfill one of her dreams by writing a romance novel, and if she should win him tonight would he be willing to give her some writing tips?
Writing tips, my ass, and so Kate politely reminds her that they only have three minutes with each bachelor and it happens to be her turn with Mister Castle.
Wow, if looks could kill, and then she's standing in front of the man who has her twisted up in knots, her heart yearning for the impossible, wishing she was a better person and in a better place in her life... Her body starts tingling in awareness of him, desiring to just jump his bones.
"And here's the man of the evening," she jests, a smile lurking at the corner of her lips. "The one man whom I'm afraid will be in such high demand tonight that I won't be able to afford him."
Rick's laughter is deep, booming and the definition of sexy; his eyes crinkle at the corners from his splitting grin, making him look even more dashing.
"And you, my lovely lady," his hand catches hers and raises it to his lips, "are the one woman I'd be afraid would have your wicked way with me and leave me utterly bereft in the morning."