by Cherry Adair
“By doing what exactly?”
Yeah. What? “Make him jealous?”
Cat gave him an odd look. “Make him...jealous?”
“You want to at least have some sort of declaration of commitment from Mr. Right, right? You know how competitive we are. One little hint that I’m interested in you, and Nick will charter a flight to Las Vegas before we’ve finalized the bet. Are you game?”
For several seconds she was apparently too stunned to speak. She closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Sure.” She smiled. “Why not?”
That seemed to have worked, Luke thought, relieved. “It’s late. Why don’t you go off to bed? I’m going to finish these cookies, and think about how we can execute Operation Mr. Right.”
Execute being the operative word here.
* * *
LUKE’S THROAT CLOSED up until he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt as though an overweight elephant squatted directly on his heart. He realized that every time Cat had mentioned Mr. Right he’d felt physical pain. Agonizing pain. Pound your head on the wall pain. Rip your guts out pain.
He was going to give her a list of Nick’s faults. There were a hundred things wrong with Nick. A million things—
Argh! There was nothing wrong with Nick, Luke admitted reluctantly. He and Nick had been best friends for most of their lives. Nick Stratton was honest. Honorable. Decent. And if Cat wanted him, it was Luke’s sworn duty to make sure he protected her until Nick declared himself.
Oh, hell. Just the thought of Nick’s hands anywhere on Cat’s body made Luke’s blood pound like a run-away train through his brain. His teeth ground together until his jaw ached. He wondered where he could dispose of the body.
But then he’d have to comfort her.
And if it wasn’t Nick, then it would be someone else.
Luke couldn’t leave a trail of bodies across the San Francisco Bay Area just because...just because he didn’t want her hurt.
He could’ve helped her with anyone else.... Liar! Luke admitted roughly.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING Luke casually strolled into his partner’s office in the north turret carrying two cups of latte. Nick, dressed in a lightweight charcoal wool suit, tie in place, shoes polished, sat with his feet on his desk, staring out the window.
Luke, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, because he was going on-site, took a seat in the visitor’s chair opposite the wide mahogany desk. “That’s my favorite pose, Stratton.”
Nick turned his head away from the city view and grinned. “Hey, old son, what’s up? Thanks.” He took the cup and popped the plastic lid. “To what do I owe the dubious honor of your presence at nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning?”
“A man can’t bring his partner a cup of coffee?”
“Depends on what the man’s up to.” Eyes suspicious, Nick took a sip.
“I wanted to talk to you about Cat. Catherine.”
“Catherine?” Nick frowned. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn, Luke thought, this could prove to be awkward as hell. “How do you feel about her, Nick?”
Nick leaned back comfortably in his big leather chair. “Are you kidding? I’m mad about her.”
“Seriously mad about her? Or mad about her for the next five minutes, like the rest of your harem?”
“And the answer to this question is important to you why?”
“Just answer the question.”
“She’s beautiful. Sexy. Smart... Hell, I’m halfway in love with her. Why?”
“Halfway in love with her?” Luke scoffed. “Get real. Since you obviously can’t even commit to how you feel about her, I’m following up on your suggestion and taking her out myself.”
Nick frowned and removed his feet from the desktop with a thud. He set his coffee down. “You and Catherine?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“You mean like a date kinda thing?”
Nick was jealous. “Got a problem with that?” Luke demanded, revving up his belligerence for Cat’s sake.
“But she’s your sister.”
“As you’ve told me so often, Cat’s not my sister. All I’m doing is telling you my intentions.”
“I see. And what are your intentions toward Catherine?”
“Honorable.” Luke watched his friend’s face.
Something flickered briefly in Nick’s eyes before he expertly masked it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
Nick took another sip of his latte. “I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“I said, I don’t think so,” Nick repeated coolly. “You told me weeks ago that you considered Catherine the next best thing to a doorstop. A sexless...sister. Now you’re trying to tell me you want her? Give me a break. Wanna bet you want her because you know I want her?”
“No. This is not a betting situation.”
“Why not? Everything’s grounds for a bet.”
“Not Catherine,” Luke said seriously. The latte tasted like sweat socks. “Tell me, Nick. What do you see when you look at Cat?”
“A beautiful, sexy, desirable woman.”
“That’s my point. Cat is more than that. Much more. She’s funny and wise, vulnerable and incredibly strong. She’s...dimensional.”
“Are you standing there telling me you’re in love with her?” Nick asked incredulously.
“I’m taking Cat to Arizona for the weekend,” Luke told him tightly, trying to remind himself that this was a strategy to help Cat.
Nick looked startled. “What?”
“Yeah. Wanna make something of it?”
“Are you in love with her?”
Admission ready to spill from his lips, Luke bit his tongue. Once spoken, the words would be out there in the atmosphere forever. Waiting to haunt and torment him for the rest of his miserable life.
God help him. He didn’t just want Cat. He loved her.
“Are you?” Luke countered.
“Face it,” Nick said. “We both have the hots for her. Vastly different emotions, old son. Vastly. Unfortunately, we both feel guilty as hell because we’re so protective of her. Which is why I’ve held back. I’ve just been biding my time. We’ve watched her grow up, we’ve watched her bloom.” He waggled his dark eyebrows. “And bloomed very nicely, too. But that’s lust, pal. Just lust. Now the question is, which one of us will—”
“Don’t say it.” Luke stood up and glared at his ex-best friend. “Don’t even think it, Stratton. Cat’s off-limits to you from now on.”
The pseudoanger was a nice touch. Unfortunately, his heart was racing and his eyeballs felt like they were about to pop right out of his head. This is just an act, Luke reminded himself, as he tried to unfurl his tightly clenched fists, to no avail.
“Keep away from her unless you’re planning a wedding,” Luke growled.
Nick almost fell off his chair. “A wedding? A wedding as in here comes the bride? Are you nuts! What about The Bet?”
“So winning The Bet is more important to you than Cat?”
“I didn’t say that. Did you?”
“Maybe.”
Nick leaned back, cupped the back of his head with his hands and swung his big feet up on top of his desk again. “Well, maybe from me, too.”
“Make up your mind, Nick.”
“Ditto.”
They glared at each other.
* * *
THEIR FLIGHT TO Arizona was uneventful, if one discounted their close proximity on the plane. It was late evening by the time they arrived at the resort hotel. Luke had been lucky to get a room on the same floor as hers at such short notice.
Accompanied by the steamy smells of soap and bleach, Cat’s room had a view of the
back of the laundry room. No scenic overlook of Camelback Mountain, nor the pool, for Faith’s only child.
“Mine’s not much better. But I can have them move you if you like.” Sitting on the foot of her bed, Luke tried to read her expression as she picked up various objects, fiddled with them, then put them down again. The soft fabric of her lavender dress clung to her legs and hips as she paced. Between the X straps on her back, her skin was creamy and lightly freckled in the lamplight. His mouth watered.
She’d been unusually quiet during the flight to Arizona, even more subdued when they’d arrived at the hotel where her mother’s wedding was to be held the next evening.
“Nah, I don’t need to change rooms. No big. It’s only two nights. Besides, I didn’t come for the view.”
“Just the spectacle?”
Cat picked up the leather-bound room service menu and smiled slightly. “She does her best to outdo herself every time, doesn’t she? No doubt this one will beat them all.”
She flipped the laminated pages. “If I ever get married I’ll combine all of Faith’s most outrageous weddings into one huge blowout. Pull out all the stops. Go for broke.” The menu plopped back onto the desk with the finality of a divorce decree. “Except for the elephant. That wasn’t one of her better ideas.”
“Yeah, elephant poop must’ve been hell on the laundry bill.” When I get married... The words hit him like a fist in the gut. “You planning on getting married in the near future?” he asked casually.
She gave him an indecipherable look. “Let’s get something to eat before I start gnawing on the fruit in that painting. Come on, Van Buren, get the lead out, I’m famished.”
Was she missing Nick? Luke already felt like a pulled-taut rubber band, whitened by the excessive stretch. Any second now he was going to go sproing. He was sitting on a giant, king-size bed. Sheets turned back. Chocolate on the pillow. Lights turned low. He wouldn’t need anything sweeter than Cat beside him.
Ain’t gonna happen, pal. “One would think the guy was terminally dense not to fall over his feet getting to you,” he offered casually.
Her lips twitched. “One would think. Do you want to hit the restaurants, or should we get room service?”
She’d been only mildly attentive when he’d told her about his conversation with Nick. Women were like that. Not interested until the knights drew blood. It had been damn close.
“Let’s go out and eat, then reconnoiter. If you’re not too tired, that is?” He felt too vulnerable right now to be anywhere near a horizontal surface with Cat in the same room. Surreptitiously, Luke glanced at the phone on the desk. No red light blinked, indicating Nick had called. Or Faith, for that matter.
It was 9:00 p.m. The wedding was set for six the next evening. Surely Faith could manage to squeeze in a few moments to see Cat? She hadn’t seen her daughter in two years. No loss, as far as he was concerned. Cat picked up her purse just as there was a knock at the door. Their eyes met.
“I’ll get it.” Only too happy for a diversion, Luke opened the door. Faith What’sit-What’sit-What’sit stood out in the hall, wearing a white silk pantsuit with gold buttons and looking as though she’d stepped from the pages of Vogue. For a split second, Luke saw what his father had seen. The flawless complexion. The petite, yet curvy body. The incredible honey-red sweep of her hair. But unlike his father, Luke had always had twenty-twenty where Faith was concerned. She was high maintenance, low return.
He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Howdy, Stepmama.”
She did a slight double take. “My goodness, Lucas. What a lovely surprise.” She reached up to peck the air an inch from his cheek, then handed him the black silk garment bag she carried. “Put this somewhere, darling. Now, where’s my baby?”
“Hi, Mother.”
Faith came toward her, hands outstretched. “Let me look at you. Oh dear, I always forget what a big girl you are.”
Their hands met briefly, her mother’s cool and dry, Catherine’s damp. She resisted wiping her palms on her dress. As always, in Faith’s presence she felt gangly and plain and as though she took up too much space. She despised her own reaction to this beautiful stranger who was her mother. Faith was a softer, paler, more petite version of her offspring.
Smoky eyes skimmed Catherine from head to toe, swiftly and expertly cataloging to the last cent what each item of clothing had cost.
“My goodness, Catherine, are you still shopping at those dreadful discount stores? And those high heels not only make you simply tower over everyone, they make your feet look enormous.”
“She doesn’t tower over me.” Luke came up behind Catherine and slipped his arm around her waist. “I think Cat has the sexiest feet since Cleopatra. And the only people she towers over are people too short to appreciate her height. With her impeccable taste, she could shop at the flea market and still look gorgeous.”
His hand felt warm and solid on her middle. So did his defense of her. Bliss.
“How sweet,” Faith said with a vague smile. “You always were her champion, weren’t you, Lucas? Catherine, I only stopped by to drop off your gown for tomorrow. I’ve made an appointment for your hair at 9:00 a.m. Now that I see it’s just as unruly as ever, I’ll have Milo straighten it a little after he cuts it.”
“She’s not cutting one inch off her hair,” Luke said flatly. He looked down at her, his arm still around her waist. “Are you, Cat?”
“Nope.” Her mother would have given the hairdresser strict instructions, Catherine knew. She’d been caught unprepared only once. Then she’d found herself with an oddly avant-garde asymmetrical do that made her feel like a lopsided Little Orphan Annie until it grew out. There was no use arguing with her mother now. Catherine would cancel the appointment tomorrow.
“How are you, Mother? Where’s the lucky groom?”
“You know it’s bad luck for him to see the bride before the wedding. Chandler is staying with a friend until tomorrow.” Faith craned her neck at her much taller daughter. “And I think that now we’re both adults, you should call me Faith, don’t you, darling?” She smiled, showing straight, beautifully bleached white teeth. Husband number five had been a dentist. “We can pretend we’re sisters. Won’t that be fun?”
Great, Catherine thought wryly, everyone wants me to be their darn sister.
This was the first time in living memory that her mother’s darts completely missed their mark. Startled by the realization, Catherine knew she was seeing Faith through Luke’s eyes. It was a revelation.
Like a cartoon character with a lightbulb blinking overhead, she saw her mother as a sad, lonely woman who filled her life with loveless marriages and buying sprees because she couldn’t bear to spend a moment alone. The fact that Faith was a petty, selfish woman filled with her own self-importance had nothing to do with who Catherine was. The knowledge came as a shock. For years she’d felt as useless and unattractive as her mother told her she was. Faith’s perception was not reality.
“Something to drink, Faith?” Luke asked, still glued to Catherine’s side. She was grateful for his strength. Both his arm and the moral support he provided. However she tried to rationalize, she always felt battered around her mother. “Eye of newt, perhaps?” he added.
“No, thank you, darling. I have to run. I’m having a massage in a little while. I just wanted to give Catherine her gown.” She glanced around to see where Luke had put it. “Do come and look. I bought it for you in Paris, darling.” She eyed her daughter the only way Catherine had ever seen her mother look at her. Critically.
“Although now I look at you it might be just a teeny bit snug around the hips. You have packed on a little weight, haven’t you? And my Lord, what have you been doing to your poor skin? Must you persist on going out in the sun and getting all freckled? Darling, I insist you use that cream I sent you.”
“
Isn’t Cat lucky you’re marrying a plastic surgeon?” Luke interjected mildly, his hand tightening fractionally on Catherine’s hip. “Not that she’d ever need it. But if she does, in thirty or so years when she’s your age, she can also have her face extensively excavated and remodeled free. Of course, by then you’ll probably be married to a mortician. Easy come, easy go.”
Catherine almost choked. She couldn’t look at Luke in case she started to laugh.
“Gracious, Luke. You know I was only sixteen when I had Catherine. I was practically a baby myself.”
Faith had slipped up and gotten pregnant at twenty-nine, not sixteen. But for as long as she could remember, Catherine had been blamed for the inconvenience. Her beautiful mother couldn’t frown anymore, she noticed. Faith must have had those Botox shots to kill the nerves in her face. It was rather odd to see the expression in her mother’s eyes but not see the wrinkled brow that should have accompanied it.
Faith pulled the garment bag away and held up the dress. If nothing else, her mother had impeccable taste. The gown was a slim, floor-length column of flame-ècolored silk. There was no embellishment whatsoever, just flowing fiery silk jersey, expertly cut on the bias.
“Interesting color choice for a wedding,” Luke observed blandly. “Wouldn’t black have been more appropriate?”
“Black is no longer très élégant.” Faith tilted her head as she held the dress up in front of Catherine. She eyed what was certainly a one-of-a-kind designer gown with a small pout. “I thought the color would be quite striking with Catherine’s coloring, but now...”
Not in a trillion years, Catherine thought without hostility. There was no way on God’s green earth her mother had ever thought this color would flatter her.
“You were absolutely correct,” Luke said with mock admiration. “This will look dynamite on Cat. Admittedly, not everyone could pull off wearing this dramatic hue. For instance, it would completely drain all that hectic color right off your face, and make your hair look a little like straw, wouldn’t it? It only works because of Cat’s youth and beauty. And of course, the stunning deep color of her hair.”
Catherine jabbed Luke in the ribs with her elbow. “How many people are coming to the wedding?” she asked quickly, before the giggle in her chest could burst free. To sober up, she imagined all the wedding guests staring at her butt in the skintight dress. She shuddered. Fortunately, she’d never see any of them again. Her mother never invited the same guests to two weddings in a row. Catherine was the unlucky exception.