by Sable Hunter
Much to the amusement of everyone watching, she tugged and he set back like a stubborn mule. “Come on, I have some things I need to say to you,” she grunted.
“Well, do it here. I Don’t Want To Dance.” Heath protested succinctly, carefully enunciating every word. He had enough sense to realize they were causing another scene, but there were just times when a man had to stand up for his principals. “Anything we have to say to one another, we can say here.”
Her antics reminded him of a small dog with a bone. As he groused and griped, it dawned on Heath that like all women, she was paying no attention to the voice of reason—namely him. Like most females, she was only hearing what she wanted to hear. Well, no more! “Stop! Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He grasped her head and turned her whole body.
And when he did, something happened.
She gave him the most brilliantly beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I want to make it up to you. Please?” Her voice was sensual and full of promise.
Maybe it was the hopeful look on her face, or the playful glint in her eye which gave him pause. He frowned—more like it was the perfect pink lips and the killer body or the sweet lilt of her voice which made him want to take her in his arms. But whatever it was, he surrendered. “Okay, I’ll listen, but I don’t dance.”
“Okay, you don’t have to dance, just hold me. You won’t be sorry.”
Mercy, she was cute. Bright flags of color burned in her cheeks. Was she aroused? Just the thought that she might be turned-on to him sent a shaft of longing through him. Heath almost groaned at the possibility. God, he had to keep his emotions in check. Trying to remember what Patrick had said and who he was dealing with, Heath spoke gruffly. “Well, that remains to be seen.”
A smattering of applause met his ears. Dammit!
She put her hands on his shoulder and pressed her body flush against his. Fuck, Heath almost lost his mind. Lust unlike any he’d ever felt flooded his loins and he got a hard-on big enough to drive spikes. He pushed her back a little, not wanting her to know how she affected him. “All right, you’ve got me where you want me. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Cato watched his face, not wanting to miss a word. She was confused. He had seemed really interested in her before and now—not so much. Behind the punch table, he wouldn’t have been able to get a good look at her body. Heath probably preferred model thin women. Oh, well. She could still enjoy the dance. “I want to apologize to you. Big time.”
“As well you should,” Heath agreed, solemnly. “I deserve two apologies.”
“Don’t push it,” she warned him, giving him a pinch in the side. “I told you that you startled me.”
Her hands on his body made him want to groan. “I don’t know how I could have. I asked you three times for a glass of punch.”
Cato studied his face, realizing he had no idea of her handicap. Hadn’t he heard her agree when he asked if she was deaf? Apparently not. Oh, the temptation to keep the information to herself. To have a man see her as average—normal—just like anyone else. “I’m sorry, I said I didn’t hear you.”
“Well,” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I guess the band was loud. And everybody was talking.”
“Are you married?” The thought sprang to her mind and she asked it without thinking.
Married? Holy hell! Heath pulled back farther, putting another two inches between their bodies. “No, and I’m not planning on getting married either!”
Ah, the gauntlet had been tossed down. Cato patted his chest. “Calm down, no one is picking out china patterns.”
“It wouldn’t do you any good if you did.” Heath spouted off, trying to ignore how sweet she smelled and how good she felt in his arms. Man, he needed to get out of here. Women like this should be illegal. He needed something to distract him, some adventure. Hell, where was Jimmy Dushku when he needed him?
“Well, we’ll see.” She gave him another heart-stopping smile. “I’ll go easy on you.” When he looked decidedly uncomfortable, she decided to level with him. “You can relax. I’m not going to bonk you over the head and kidnap you.” Pity, he was unbelievable hot. “And to answer your earlier question—again. The reason I didn’t respond to you when you asked me for punch was because I couldn’t see your lips.”
He was confused. Her beauty must be muddling his brain. “I don’t understand.”
“You asked me if I was deaf and the answer is yes, I am.” She told him the truth, watching his face carefully. “My condition doesn’t change who I am, Heath. I’m just a regular girl. I’m nice and fun to be with, I just can’t hear.” Her mother, God rest her soul, had not been entirely successful in stripping Cato of her self-confidence. She tried to be the best person she could be and anyone who didn’t want to be around her—well, it was just their loss. Still, she held her breath, waiting for Heath McCoy’s reaction. For some reason, it was very important to her.
“Deaf?” He looked at her perfect face, the big doe eyes, the slender neck which he would love to lick and taste. Surely, he misunderstood. “You can’t hear me? At all?”
“No.” Cato shook her head sadly.
“But you can speak.” Heath insisted, as if that made all the difference in the world. Her voice was different, adorable really, but nothing like he would have expected, knowing her circumstances.
“I was eleven when I lost my hearing. It’s not the same as being deaf from birth.”
“Hell, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’m well adjusted.” She patted his shoulder reassuringly.
“Yes, you are. How do you dance?” Heath persisted. They weren’t really dancing now. He was mostly just moving in a slow circle—she was doing all the work.
Cato couldn’t resist, she might not get a chance to practice her flirting skills again for a while. And to say she was attracted to this man was the understatement of the decade. Pushing up against him, Cato ground her lower body into his, her self-confidence skyrocketing when she encountered a baseball bat size erection. “Very well. Don’t you think so?” Her action made him groan. Cato didn’t miss that—his entire chest vibrated.
Holy Hell. Even though he knew it wasn’t a good idea, Heath couldn’t resist. He lowered his head and kissed her hard, once on the lips. Lord Have Mercy. Pure sugar.
Cato almost tripped, she faltered and he caught her closer. Oh, my goodness! She wanted to grab onto the moment and press it between the pages of her mind. “Could you do that again?”
“No.” He chuckled. “Once was enough.” Who was he kidding? Once, with her, would never be enough. And that was why Heath knew he needed to keep his distance. “How do you know what the beat is?” he asked, needing to change the subject, but not willing to turn her loose, not just yet. The music had stopped playing, but he kept swaying back and forth.
Cato laughed. “I can sense the vibrations. Like now, there aren’t any. The band has stopped playing, but we’re still moving.”
“You’re right, smart-ass.” He grinned at her.
“Guilty.” She conceded with a mischievous grin. “A woman has to have some method of defense against such a fine specimen of manhood as yourself.”
“I think you’re dangerous, is what I think.” He looked over her shoulder and down at her shapely derriere.
Cato thought Heath was a handful. A delicious handful. “So, do you forgive me for throwing punch in your face?”
Heath appeared to consider his reply. “I think I can bring myself to forgive you for cup one, but I don’t know about the second cup. That appeared to be deliberate and premeditated.”
“Oh, you can’t hold me responsible for the second cup. That was an accident. I was way-laid by three little girls playing chase with boys. Besides, you called me a wall-eyed owl, insulted me unnecessarily and got my dander up.” Cato felt the music start, the pulse softer and slower. In response, she nestled closer. “We should be slow-dancing, hold me tighter.”<
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“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?” He inspected her smooth shoulders. “I don’t see any dander by the way.”
“Well, I washed my hair,” she said close to his mouth, still keeping an eye on those firm masculine lips. After all, she had to know what he was saying. “You just had a shower, didn’t you?”
“Yea, a long, hot one.”
The way he said the words made her have some seriously lascivious thoughts, so she took a moment to study him. “I bet you have a long, hot one all right.”
“Shhh, not so loud, people can hear you.” Heath snorted, closing her mouth with another kiss.
She put an arm around his neck, trying to make the delicious kiss go on and on. “More,” she pleaded.
“Not a good idea.” He pulled back.
“Why?” Cato kneaded his shoulders, loving the way it felt to touch him. The man was seriously good looking. Well over six feet, six-feet-four if he was an inch, two hundred forty or so pounds, a sculpted body, high cheekbones—yep, she could make a meal of this man.
Should she go for it? Heck, what did she have to lose? Here she was in Texas and he was in Texas, might as well take advantage of the opportunity.
“Why?” He struggled to find the right words. “I’m not the settling down type and I assume you are.”
Cato ran her tongue over her lips. Dang, he was warning her off. She was going to miss her chance. Time to take a chance. “You know what they say about people who assume.”
He was mesmerized by her little pink tongue. “Yea, I’ve heard that before, ‘you make an ass out of you and me both’.” Heath took his thumb and caressed her plump lower lip longingly.
“That’s right, so don’t be an ass.” She stood on tiptoe and placed another soft kiss on his cheek.
“Don’t,” he moaned. Despite his better judgment, this woman was getting to him. It had been way too long since the last time he’d had sex. And Heath loved a woman’s body—the curves, the softness, full tits, a tender wet pussy. It was like having an all-season pass to an amusement park. He wanted to touch, kiss and ride all the rides. Right now, he wished he could lay her down and rub his hands all over her silky skin. The notion had him hard as Texas granite.
But he couldn’t. “So, your name’s Cato?”
“Yes, Cato, Cato Vincent.”
“I’m Heath McCoy.”
“I know.” When he raised a quizzical eyebrow, she explained with another slow lick to her lower lip. “You have the look of a McCoy…and your sisters came to introduce themselves to me.”
Her announcement was like a splash of cold water to his face, as arresting and riveting as a cup of punch.
Nope—not gonna happen.
Enough was enough. He would not end up being manipulated by his matchmaking sisters. “Look, I need to go.” He eased back from her. “It was very nice to meet you, but I need to say goodnight and goodbye.”
“What?” Cato didn’t know what had happened. “I thought we were getting to know one another…making a connection? And don’t ever say goodbye. Saying goodbye is bad luck.” Thoughts of Tessa ran through her mind.
Heath held up his hand as if to ward her off. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Cato Vincent. It was nice meeting you and I wish you well.”
The sting of rejection almost paralyzed her. “Okay. I understand.” But she didn’t. Cato wanted to ask him why—was it her looks, something she said? But shouts and people moving around drew their attention away from the awkward situation.
People were holding up glasses and smiling. “What’s going on?” she asked a woman standing near her.
“Libby had her babies! Colt and Jordan McCoy have arrived!”
After that, everything went crazy.
* * *
When the party was over, Cato looked for Heath, but she didn’t find him. Living as close as she did, staying at the ranch hadn’t been necessary. So, soon after saying goodbye to Savannah and Harley, Cato couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Touching her lips, reliving the kisses he’d given her, Cato began walking toward her jeep.
A figure dashed in front of her, effectively halting her forward progress. When she focused, it was Ryder, Heath’s sister. “Wait a minute.”
“Hey,” Cato said shyly, wondering if Ryder had seen the quick kiss Heath had given her.
“I wanted to talk to you before you left.” Ryder was careful to keep in view of Cato’s eyes, apparently having picked up on the fact Cato was deaf, when her brother had missed it.
“Okay, sure.”
“We’re having a BBQ next weekend. We have it every year at the same time. It’s a tradition. You’ve got to come.” From the expectant look on her face, Cato knew Ryder could sell ice to Eskimos.
“I just moved in, I don’t really have a lot of time…” Cato began, but Ryder didn’t give her time to finish.
“Everybody is coming, except maybe Libby and the babies, and Isaac and Avery who will still be on their honeymoon.” She motioned one of her brothers over. “This is Philip. Philip, tell Cato we’d love to have her come to the BBQ.”
“Sure.” Philip looked at his sister and knew to fall in with the program. Cato almost laughed at the sibling manipulation. “We’d love to have you.”
After everything that had gone on today, Cato doubted whether or not this would be a good idea. Never one to beat around the bush, she took the bull by the horns. “I’m not sure your brother Heath would appreciate you inviting me.” She looked around again, as they did—Heath was long gone, which spoke volumes to Cato.
Ryder leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t give up on Heath, Cato. We’ve been worried about him. He works so hard. He never takes a break. He puts all of us first and he hasn’t been lucky in love.”
“Wait, wait.” Cato held up her hands. “Your brother has no interest in me. He as much as told me so earlier.”
“Look, we won’t do any type of matchmaking. I just want you to come for the weekend and stay as my guest. Whatever happens between you and Heath will be strictly up to you and Heath.”
“Well…I don’t know.” She was torn. Cato would’ve liked to know why Heath had been hot one minute and cold the next. If it was because she was deaf, she wanted to know. If it was something else…well, she wanted to know that too. Bottom line, some things and some people were worth risking everything for and Heath McCoy fit the bill. “Okay, okay.” She threw her hands up in surrender. “You convinced me.”
“Yay!” Ryder pumped her fist. “You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
Cato was skeptical. “I’ll withhold judgment on that matter.”
Giving them a quick hug, she made it to her vehicle. As she was pulling out, Cato saw Heath standing on the porch, watching her leave. Damn that man. He had been hiding from her, she’d bet her life on it. Feeling a little mischievous, she held up her hand and waved. “Thanks for the dance, cowboy. See you soon.”
Heath stood up straighter, jamming his hand down in his pocket. That woman was trouble, nothing but trouble. “Not if I see you first,” he mumbled under his breath.
CHAPTER THREE
A week is a long time to wait when you’re looking forward to something.
Cato had started her new job and been assigned an area and a few topics for her research. It had always been her contention that history was being forgotten and lost at an alarming rate. She wanted to do her part to preserve the past and keep alive as much of the culture of their ancestors as possible. She was lucky. Being homeschooled, Cato had ‘graduated’ early and had more freedom to study topics she’d been interested in. History and languages had been her first love and she’d also studied philosophy and anthropology. Learning had been her only outlet, since a social life hadn’t been a possibility.
Before Edith took sick, Cato had dreaded her future. She didn’t want to just walk away from her mother, but that was what she’d been prepared to do. Cato firmly believed that if her mother knew what a great gift she’d given Cato in
her job, she would have snatched it back if she had the power. The job and the people she met at the Culture Center became her salvation. Her work didn’t entail going to a desk from nine to five. For the first time, Cato was free to travel, meet people and come and go as she liked—it was amazing. And here, as she had in Louisiana, Cato spent much of her time on the road visiting libraries, museums, private homes or the countryside—anywhere and everywhere she could dig up interesting, relevant facts and relics to be chronicled and preserved for future generations.
For example, at the moment she was climbing through a fence, trying not to get her jeans hung in the sharp barbs. Her destination was Dead Man’s Hole, a gaping Texas sinkhole which was used during the Civil War as a place to throw the dead and dying. One known victim was Judge J. R. Scott, but there were at least sixteen others. A gruesome piece of history, but history nonetheless. The state had acquired the land it was on and a heavy metal grate covered up the hole. Cato wanted to see the place for herself. As soon as she climbed from the jeep, a chill swept over her. The weather didn’t warrant goose bumps, it was warm and there was no breeze whatsoever. “Spooky,” she muttered as she moved forward.
Scrub oaks and prickly pears surrounded her and a pathway covered with white rock led up to the historical marker. The gravel crunched under her feet, Cato could feel it. A movement to the left caught her eye. It was a hawk diving down to catch a field mouse. She didn’t stop to read the history carved on the marker, but rather stepped around it to view the deep cave itself. Now it was covered by a grate, but Cato knew it was at least a hundred-fifty feet deep with two offshoots. Dangerous gases once filled the space, which had made exploration impossible until the 1950s. The grate was necessary to keep people or animals from wandering near and falling in.
When she drew near, Cato stopped and let herself feel the past. A large oak once stood over Dead Man’s Hole, used to hang hapless victims. Rope marks marred its branches for all to see. Most of those who died here had only committed the crime of having a different opinion than those who sentenced them to death.