“What the heck do you need with a gym?” Ben saw immediately he had said the wrong thing. Catlin’s face lost all its cheer and she forced her way into a seated position with such determination that she almost head-butted him and Ben made no attempt to prevent her moving away from him.
“Very funny. I think we need to make the terms of our truce more clear cut. I might have conceded to take your word until this point as truth, but as far as the one you just made goes, you’ll not be able to convince me that you’re being serious or genuine this side of the world ending.” She ducked around his arm and went to check on her burger, the old familiar feeling of resentment and bitterness resurfacing. Somehow he had managed to get her to break her vow of being ‘just friends’ but far worse he had, however unintentionally, reminded her of all the insults that had been thrown at her in relation to her looks, or lack of them.
It had been at an unusually young age Catlin had discovered she was sadly short in the looks department. If she didn’t draw remarks about her resembling a nightmarish spectre she was not noticed at all, was invisible to all intents and purposes. Her height and muscular build did not help either. Back home, she towered above most of the men she met when in flat shoes and the difference in stature was absurd to say the least once she put heels on. A former friend had kindly told her she looked more like a bloke in drag on a stag do than a woman at times. He had not done it on purpose, but with one careless comment Ben had managed to remind her of every single reason why it was that he would be unable to view her as anything but a friend. She twiddled the temperature dial as a distraction.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Why should you think that?”
It did not need the deductive powers of a genius detective to surmise Catlin was being far from truthful.
“And you said I was a liar.”
“Well, you proved yourself to be one.”
“How exactly may I ask?”
Catlin ground her teeth together, less than impressed the game currently being played.
“Listen, you might not understand why, but your joke is not that funny to me.”
“I don’t recall making a joke.”
“I’m not going to argue over it, Ben. Let’s get this one thing straight – I prefer honesty over false or well-intended but phoney compliments. Keep that in mind and we’ll get on fine, okay?” Whether he understood or not, Ben went along with Catlin’s request for the sake of peace, throwing his hands up in an exasperated surrender.
“Fine. Whatever you say.”
They remained in their relative fall-back positions, neither daring to be the one who made the next move. Ben ran his hand across his face, scanning the room for something to use as a means for getting the conversation going again. He found it, though it wasn’t exactly what he had been looking for. A few pages of Catlin’s scribblings lay on the coffee table and he reached for them, pausing mid-flow as it occurred to him that Catlin might not want her work viewed until it was finished.
“May I?” Catlin had no objection. It would have to out into the unforgiving public domain at sooner or later and she was happier to have someone she liked and whose opinion she valued read it before the critics tore it apart. Not wanting to appear anxious as to his thoughts, Catlin took the opportunity to sneak off to her bedroom and put her hair into some sort of order. By the time she’d be respectable her burger would be cooked and Ben should have finished what bit of her book there was to be read.
She was partly right – her burger was ready, but Ben was still absorbed in her writings. He had left the sofa and was sat at the chair by her work desk, totally lost in whatever he was reading and failed to notice her entering the room.
“It can’t be so bad that it requires several readings?” As she arrived at the desk it became obvious it was not her latest book which had Ben so enthralled, but her book of poems. A streak of lightning-like fury shot through her, but it was not aimed at Ben. It was her own fault he had happened upon the notebook she used for writing her poetry in. She had left it out on the desk a few nights before and not bothered to put it back in the draw where it was usually kept, secret and out of sight. She had grown so accustomed to the lack of callers she had dared to leave it with the rest of her writing. She should have remembered and locked it away in another room the instant Ben sat down.
Seeing the anger flash through her eyes, Ben fully expected a justified torrent of verbal abuse to come his way, but Catlin was not about to let him suffer another of her tantrums. One outburst in an evening was enough for anyone, especially if that person had been unfortunate enough to have encountered her without make-up on!
“I didn’t mean to pry,” he offered up in defence, “but once I’d begun I couldn’t put them down.” Catlin sat on the edge of the desk.
“It’s fine. What did you make of them?”
“There are some pretty powerful thoughts in those pages.”
“Well they are the product of a twisted personality.”
“They’re not. They’re eye opening. Have you published any of them?”
“No way. My poems are not for general viewing. They are kind of personal and therefore written purely for my benefit.” Ben held the small hard-backed notebook out for her to take. “And for selected friends to muse over on occasions.”
Their rift, such as it was, was mended and while Catlin ate her considerably over done burger, Ben was more than content to carry on reading from the private works no-one besides the two of them had or ever would get to look on. When she had finished, they went to the sofa, gradually inching their way closer together until they were snuggled up at one end of it. Catlin’s head rested lightly on his chest while she listened to Ben read aloud his favourite lines from the newly uncovered treasury of tales, his free arm draped around her shoulders, his fingers idly twisting a strand of her hair. She had always held her poor excuse of an attempt at poetry to be third rate at the best, their less than light hearted themes being on the darker side of things. Yet as Ben took the words from the page he transformed them into something haunting but ultimately beautiful, giving them a life of their own and by the time he announced that he should be going, Catlin’s own rating of them had improved greatly.
“Do you have far to go?” she asked, reluctantly showing him to the door of the apartment. “I can give you a lift if you need one.”
“It’s not far at all. Hardly a stone’s throw.” With one of them on either side of the doorway, there was an awkward silence, neither quite sure of how the evening should end and both determined not to cross some undefined line.
“Tonight was great. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I last enjoyed someone’s company so much.”
“Me too,” Catlin answered shyly. “Who’d have thought you could find so much to discuss with an intruder!” The tension eased as they laughed but then they were again faced with the dilemma of saying farewell.
“I had really better be going otherwise at this rate we’ll be stood here come morning.”
“I can think of worse ways to spend a night.”
“Me too, but nonetheless…”
“Yes, nonetheless.” Ben grinned at her crookedly.
“Goodnight Cate.” No-one had shortened her name to ‘Cate’ before. It was generally ‘Cat’ or plain ‘Catlin’. She liked Cate. She especially liked how it sounded when he said it.
“Goodnight Ben.”
Any lingering doubts as to whether Ben viewed her as nothing more than a friend were wiped out of existence when, to seal their farewells, Ben took and kissed Catlin’s hand. It was old school, a scene straight out of the movies but that did not make it any the less romantic.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he promised before releasing her hand from his and walking off down the hallway. Catlin closed the door, locked it then fell back against it, raising the same hand he had held to his lips up to hers. Was she being stupid for considering, however slightly, that such a thing could be possible? Co
uld a man like that genuinely be interested in a girl such as her, want to date her and, maybe one day, come to love her? It was a billion to one shot but that was enough to cause the tiny flicker of hope which glowed within her to ignite.
Catlin twirled about with sheer exhilaration, dropping down into the seat she and Ben had been sharing with a whoop of delight. She allowed herself to sink down into the cushions which held his warmth despite his having departed and imagined it was him and not the soft furnishing she was lying against. They were so vivid, so lifelike the thoughts she had of him that Catlin could have easily believed his arms were around her still, that his fingers were entwined with her own or played softly with her hair. They might have been nothing more than a flight of fancy, but such thoughts were a comfort to Cate and lost in the rapture of the illusion of having Ben at her side, she quickly fell asleep.
Chapter Five
Weeks passed by in this state of contentment. Their time together was spent either out hiking in the hills or curled up in the apartment, anywhere where they could be alone – that was how they liked it, just the two of them. Nothing else mattered much, not work, the world or any of the mad, bizarre stuff that went on in it. Ben would arrive at Catlin’s door most evenings and stay there until late. They’d talk, read and discuss Cate’s work. She had tried to find out several times what Ben did for a living, but she struggled to get a straight answer from him on the topic.
She concluded after a time that she had been on the right tracks in assuming him to be involved in the same industry she had fallen into. He certainly had some knowledge of the inside workings of the studios and she wondered if he had come to the city looking for his big break and not yet having secured a permanent job was embarrassed to admit his position. That would explain how it was he was always able to join her when she was free from the constraints of her work. As it was, she often had to spend hours of an evening working, but Ben didn’t seem to mind and was quite content to sit and watch her on those occasions and why, despite his saying he was just visiting, he had no obvious intention of going back home, wherever that was. Eventually she stopped asking. He’d tell her when he’d been successful.
Upon making this assumption, Catlin’s new positive outlook was knocked aside by her own insecure one. Might that not be the true cause of his so-called interest in her – he was looking for a way into the big league and she was an easy route to that goal. She was a small cog in the vast entertainment machine, but she was a part of it. The lapse was brief for Ben looked to be out to do the exact opposite. If she had any sort of publicity event to attend or signing to go to, though she asked him if he’d like to go with her, Ben refused the offer. If nothing else, she could rely on the fact he was not using her, on that level at least. It was a good thing he was not into the whole party circuit for they were not one of Catlin’s favourite past times and whenever she could wangle it, she would get out any that weren’t absolutely essential. She found Ben’s companionship infinitely more inspiring than a room of people who either didn’t know or care who she was and did not understand her work.
It had been six weeks since their fateful meeting on the roof and while their relationship had grown deeper on an intellectual and emotional level nothing much had changed physically. Catlin had not found herself in such a situation before– where a man had wanted to get to know her before jumping into bed. Her previous boyfriends, once they had seen past the flawed features and obtained a date with her had proceeded to try and get her clothes off as fast as they could. Besides, why rush? The smallest contact with Ben was more exciting than any serious physicality with those who had gone before combined. They could spend entire evenings lying in each other’s arms without speaking a single word while being able to understand the thoughts and feelings of the other perfectly. If Heaven existed on Earth it was there in the warmth of his arms. Was this what people meant when they spoke of Soul Mates? Ben too seemed more than content to take things slowly. It struck Catlin that, like her, he might have been betrayed by a former lover and did not want to rush blindly into a passionate affair, instead wanting to see if this new relationship he had embarked on had a better chance of surviving long term.
“You’ve not written any poetry for a while, have you?” Catlin, who was dreamily twiddling with the open button on the front of Ben’s shirt, could not deny it.
“No. I’ve not been visited by that Muse of the Shadows for a while. She appears to have found some other soul to latch onto, depriving me of the source for them. Not that I mind in the slightest. It’s nice to have a positive outlook for a change.”
“Would you care to expand on that less than informative statement?” Catlin rolled onto her side and sat up slightly, leaning over Ben to take a drink from her glass which was on the table next to him.
“It’s hard to put into words. I suppose, if I’m honest, I tended to write them at the stages of my life where things were either going badly or I’d been given a kick in the teeth. It was the one way I had of expressing my feelings and letting my frustrations or hurt out. Of late things just haven’t looked as worthless or as without hope as they used to.”
Ben’s hold around her waist tightened, drawing the curves of their bodies in together.
“And is there a specific cause for this shift towards optimism?” A willing captive, Catlin’s heart beat hard and fast.
“Without a doubt.” She lowered her face towards his, whispering in his ear, “I credit it to the extra dose of Vitamin C I’ve been taking.”
“You little…” Ben grabbed her, wrestling Catlin back down onto the sofa, dodging the blows she made with the cushion in feigned defence. “It’s no use hiding behind velveteen barricades,” he declared triumphantly, snatching the padded shield away and trapping her under him. “As the victor I demand total and unconditional submission to my demands.”
“Not bloody likely!” Catlin cried, doing her best to retrieve a second cushion from under her, but with Ben straddling her it was an impossible manoeuver.
Their frivolity ceased as, while in the midst of their struggle for control over the furnishings, their stares locked in a way they had never had before, looking for that clear, unmistakable sign they each desperately wanted to see. Catlin thought her heart would rupture from the tide of adrenaline which had rushed into it. Her breathing was so short and shallow she became light headed as Ben cupped her face in his hands, tracing the outline of her lips with his thumb and down her neck and onto her décolleté. She shivered with excitement as, from the trembling of his fingers, she sensed his emotions were as heightened as her own.
“I think it’s fair to warn you that, despite my best intentions, I can’t resist it any longer. Cate, I just have to kiss you.” Catlin’s temperature rose further and she flicked her gaze away from his to keep her face from colouring, but in less than a second they were irresistibly drawn back.
“About time too.” Ben saw the coy smile that creased the corners of her mouth, could feel her pulse as strongly as if it had been his heart that raced in anticipation, and he gave way to the impulse which had been threatening to overcome him for weeks, leaning in and allowing his mouth to seek hers.
As their lips met, every inch of Catlin’s body was jerked to life by a deep and uncontrollable urge for this man to consume each fibre of her being, to utterly overpower and claim her for his own. His kiss was tender and soft, but she was aware that, like her, Ben was fighting against a barely repressible desire to surrender to the passions which throbbed within him and not until he was assured of her willingness did his tongue seek out hers and his embrace become more intense and insistent. The room and the rest of the world melted away and to Ben and Cate it was as if they were the last two people left on the planet. Had the three minute warning sounded neither would have minded, they were in the one and only place they wanted to be. As he broke away Catlin was possessed by shockingly violent urge to drag him back down on top of her, the sensation of his masculine form pressing down against her ha
ving unleashed a series of cravings she’d never expected to feel again, and she had to fight the temptation to rip his clothes off him.
With every ounce of restraint she could summon she was able to regain control of herself and hoping Ben had not read her less than secret thoughts, she decided a diversion was the best method of defence.
“What took you so long?” she was able to say, though her heart was thumping so wildly she was amazed she could speak at all. Ben might have not been aware of Catlin’s raging passions, but he was unable to ignore his own rising temperature. He had wanted to take Catlin and kiss her for weeks, but something held him back. He had tried to convince himself that he was being careful, not wanting to hurt the girl who had suffered so much at the hands of men already. When that did not justify his actions he had thought it to be as a means of self-defence. He had been betrayed by a woman before and had no intention of letting it happen again, but he could not fool himself there either. There was more to it than that. He was afraid. Afraid that once he allowed himself to give into his yearnings he would be unable to maintain control. That he would find it impossible to keep from satisfying the ache which throbbed within him whenever Catlin came close to him.
“I wanted to be sure,” he choked, his own words as shaky as Catlin’s.
“Sure of what?”
Ben decided not to lay the blame at anyone’s door but his own. Catlin was insecure as it was without him giving her cause to think he doubted her affections and put her under more pressure.
“Of myself. I didn’t want to start anything with you until I was certain I was going to be hanging around. You deserved better than that. I’m sure you’re not so naïve as to think you’re the only woman I’ve been involved with.” Catlin feigned shock, glad to find an outlet for the frustrated energies than had flooded her veins.
“You mean, I’m not you’re first?”
Ben grinned, his handsome looks stealing her senses away again.
Remember Me Page 4