That made absolutely no sense. She didn’t believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters, but these women had made an effort to welcome her to their fairy tale.
There’d be no spittin’ that in the eye from her.
Gathering up the Call Girls manual, Cat pushed her chair back with a wink. “So, ladies, let’s get this show on the road.”
* * *
Flynn jumped when his doorbell rang. He’d been so immersed in one of the romance novels his mother loved that the noise jarred him.
Setting aside the knitting needles and the ball of thread, which was so hopelessly tangled it sure as hell wasn’t going to turn into a scarf, he dropped the book in guilt.
A glance at the microwave’s digital clock told him it was Cat. The thought of seeing her again made him smile, but then he frowned.
Cat wasn’t the kind of woman he’d get involved with—she was everything he’d never date. He sensed chaos with her, a palpable force, unconstrained by rules. He liked rules.
They were what kept his world upright. Which was why, when he realized his brain didn’t quite function the way it usually did when he was around her, it was a good reason not to smile about her.
No smiling about Cat.
And remember, don’t be a grumpy asshole. Be charming. Be nice. Don’t ogle her no matter how ogle-worthy. He’d spent far too much time wondering what she was doing here in his building.
Today, as he’d left to grab lunch, he’d watched a couple of women, one with the kind of makeup and hair you mostly only saw at heavy metal concerts, step off the penthouse elevator. And the other one—LaDawn was what the heavy metal woman had called her, with her flashy purple nails and ultrableached hair—left him wondering exactly who lived in the penthouse and what they all did up there all day.
Flynn popped the door open, forcing himself to keep his focus and not ask invasive questions. “C’mon in,” he offered as casually as possible, strolling to the glass-top kitchen table and pulling out a seat for her.
As Cat pulled off her sweater, one that clung to her breasts and stopped at her waist, he yanked his eyes away to focus on her eyes. She had pretty eyes—eyes that were on fire. Eyes that expressed everything she was thinking without her ever saying a word. “Wine?”
She sighed, soft and breathy, making him wonder what it would be like to be the one responsible for making her sigh like that. “I’d love some. It’s been a long, strange day.”
Popping the cork on the bottle, he wondered what was so long about it, and why did it have to be so long? Pouring two glasses, he set them down on the table and settled into a chair.
“So, what can I do for you, Flynn McGrady?” she asked, twisting a strand of her thick, chestnut-brown hair with that smile he hadn’t been able to quit thinking about.
When Cat smiled, it was like she’d given you a gift. It was wide and generous and warm. And dangerous, McGrady. She’s not your type.
Flynn cleared his throat, forcing his lusty thoughts out of his head. “Listen, I feel really guilty about the other day. I know you said to forget it, but I can’t. My mother really likes you. She hasn’t responded to anyone the way she has to you. Not even me, I’m ashamed to admit.”
Her face, the brief distress he saw in her eyes, was a thumbs-up to his decision to ask for her help. Even if they hadn’t hit it off, she liked Della enough to care about her recovery. “Your mama’s strugglin’ with something I don’t understand, Flynn. Maybe it’s something from before the accident, maybe not. I’m no doctor, and I know you’ll think this is crazy, but I think it’s what’s hindering her progress. I can almost feel it. I don’t want to pry into your private affairs, but whatever it is, it’s keeping her from moving forward. I really think she’s just lonely. Your father passed a couple of years ago, and I know from the nurses your sister’s in Afghanistan. Maybe she just needs to know someone still gives a damn.”
“Agreed.”
Cat’s eyes widened over the rim of her glass, her long lashes almost touching her eyebrows. Jesus, she was sexy.
He grinned and leaned forward, unable to keep himself from her magnetic pull. “You look surprised.”
“Well, I am. You agreed with me, for heaven’s sake. That’s cause for at least a small seismic movement beneath our feet, don’t you think?” Cat gave him one of her saucy winks, stretching her arms over her head, pulling the material over her firm breasts.
Flynn swallowed hard, pushing his eyes upward. “I was a jerk the other day. Her recuperation’s been frustrating, to say the least. To see her do what she did for you, well, it sorta knocked the wind out of me. It’s been months since she’s done much but stare out the window. Anyway, I’m here now, and I plan to stay for the long haul until she’s better.”
“You’re a good son. But what does that have to do with me?” She cocked her head when she asked, her soft hair gleaming under the glow of the kitchen lights.
“My mother enjoys your company. She lights up when you visit with her. I’ve seen it. Seeing as you’re unemployed, due to me and my jerkiness, I’d like to offer you a job.”
“A job?”
“A job. Looking out for my mother. Reading to her, going to rehab with her, whatever it takes to get her to want to get better. I’ll pay you well.”
Her shoulders slumped. Not good.
“You’re a day late and a dollar short.”
“What?”
Cat’s eyes skirted his before zooming in on her wineglass. “I just got another job. Just today, in fact. I’m sorry.”
“Doing what?”
Again, her eyes avoided his. “Management.”
Don’t ask, Flynn. Shut up. “Managing what?” Jackass.
“Stuff that needs managing?”
“Whatever you’re making, I’ll match it—double it.”
Cat began sliding her chair out, pulling her sweater back on. “Look, Flynn, I love Della. She’s a terrific lady. But I’m happy to say she won’t need someone to visit with her forever. She’s going to get better and better, especially now that you’re here. But I need something long-term. I need the security this job brings me.”
Flynn rose, too, wondering exactly what managing “stuff” meant, and why there was a hint of desperation to her tone. “I can’t change your mind?”
Why don’t you tell her she’s every breath you take?
That ought to do it.
Seven
If Flynn McGrady had trouble with the words spank me harder, imagine the Imodium ad he’d have to keep on hand if Mr. Stuffy knew she was now the GM for a phone sex company. It was easier just to keep her flappy mouth closed.
But this was Della. She had a special place in Cat’s heart. “How about I promise to drop in on your mom as often as possible? With the new job, it’ll be a little less, but I’ll make her my first stop after my mother.”
Flynn’s face went tight again, closed off. Was it because he wasn’t getting his way? “I’d appreciate that.”
“May I use your bathroom before I go?”
His nod was curt, probably because he didn’t get his way. “Sure. Around the corner and to the left.”
As she passed by the cold chrome and black end table, she stopped short, her eye catching the book on it. “Supernaturally Yours?”
The tops of his ears went a little red, much like they’d done in the parking lot. “You know, trying to connect and all. I thought if Mom read it, and I read it, we’d have something to talk about.”
Cat scooped up the paperback with a smile. He was reading romance novels to connect with his mother. He might be conservative, but he was a conservative with a heart. So. Cute. “Look who’s not such a stuffy-pants, after all.”
Flynn’s face hardened when he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t get the wrong impression. I’m only doing this to find something relatable to my mother. Personally, I think they’re ridiculous and based solely in fantasy.”
Didn’t all stick-in-the-muds think like
that? “Of course you do, Flynn McGrady.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re wound tighter ’n a top. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re a conservative man if ‘spank me harder’ makes you blush like a teenage girl.” Baiting. You’re baiting him, Cat. Why are you baiting him?
His jaw, roughly sexy from five-o’clock shadow, lifted. “Would you want to know your mother reads books where spanking was involved?”
Cat traced a finger over the cover of the book with the picture of a man, naked from the waist up. A very sexy man. “I would if it meant she was on the road to recovery.”
“Well, I’m here to tell you, what’s contained in those pages is all a big fantasy, made up to make the rest of us men pale in comparison. Who can compete with a dark, brooding vampire with all the prowess of a sex-ninja?”
“If a man’s compellin’ enough, he doesn’t have to,” she said, winking an eye.
Flynn gave her a look of disgust. “It’s unrealistic.”
“I’m kind of with you on the unrealistic expectations. There are no happily-ever-afters, if you ask me. But in the meantime, what’s wrong with a little fantasizin’?” She was taunting him. She knew she was, but she was enjoying how flustered he appeared. All that hot man and he was rattled—it made him hotter still.
“Have you read some of the dialogue?”
Cat propped the book open, setting her purse down on the table, letting her eyes skim his face before she looked at the words. “‘I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in centuries, Lucinda. You’re the reason I breathe,’” she read in the sexiest voice she could muster.
Flynn came to stand behind her, his finger skimming the page. He tapped the print. “Perfect point. The guy in this is a vampire. Vampires don’t breathe.”
Cat rolled her eyes when she turned to face him. “There’s your problem, McGrady. Not everything has to make sense if it gives you a break from real life, does it? Vampires aren’t real, yet there are millions of women eatin’ these up like candy.” She waved the book at him. “Know what? I’m bettin’ my weight in hummus you’re the kind of guy who just can’t let go. Who doesn’t know how to just be in a moment.” There was that tic in his streamlined jaw. She had an insane urge to nip at it, run her tongue over it.
“Because it’s allegedly impossible for vampires to breathe, you know, technically being dead and all, means I can’t let go? What kind of crazy logic is that?”
Oh, he was getting huffy again. But it was adorable. It made his nostrils flare and his wide chest rise and fall. “I mean it’s symbolic of your need for rules. Sometimes, you have to allow for some artistic license. I think it’s utterly romantic for a man to say something like that to a woman. It’s the imagery, the idea that a man can’t live without his mate? That’s sexy.”
“His mate? You make them sound like a pack of dogs.”
Cat looked up at him, his eyes so serious, his delicious lips so near, and she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “When was the last time you threw caution to the wind?”
His dark eyebrow rose in that haughty know-it-all way. Precise, and perfect. “Define caution.”
“Did something you wanted to do just because you wanted to do it, knowing it was against your better judgment, but doing it, anyway. Live like there’s no tomorrow?”
Flynn appeared to be giving that challenge some thought while his eyes flamed and his fists clenched.
Watching him get all worked up almost made her giggle, until his nostrils flared, and with a tight jaw he said, “Right now,” just before he hauled her hard against him and covered her mouth with his.
Cat’s heart sped up as their lips collided. Flynn’s mouth was everything she imagined it would be—firm, demanding, sinful. His tongue slid against hers, hot, slick, tasting her, dueling, until she gripped his sweater in her hands and clenched from the perfection of him.
He tasted like sweet wine, he felt like a brick wall, with miles of rippled flesh, strong hands that cupped her backside until the rigid line beneath his jeans was pressed between her legs.
Cat inhaled Flynn’s moan of satisfaction when they backed against the wall; clinging to him, she used his broad shoulders to hike her legs up around his waist, roll her hips in tune with his.
“Say stop, and I will,” he huffed against her mouth, his breathing harsh.
Her nipples tightened, rubbing against her bra, protesting the very thought. “Don’t stop.”
It was all the incentive he needed. Flynn drove a hand up under her shirt, shoving her bra out of the way and cupping the underside of her breast.
Stars, she saw stars and flashes of white light when his thumb scraped her nipple. Now it was her moan filling his apartment, her breathing uneven and harsh. His body radiated heat, the kind of heat she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Flynn’s fingers found the hem of her skirt and pulled it up around her waist before he dipped into the top of her panties, skimming the soft line of her belly, then slipping between her folds in one smooth thrust.
“Ohhh,” she breathed against his mouth, lifting her hips high, relishing the rough pads of his fingers pushing through her swollen flesh.
Cat gripped him tighter, fumbling for his zipper, shoving the fabric of his jeans down and away until she was able to run her hands over his rigid shaft. Thick and long, all she could think about was him inside her.
Hard and stretching her until he filled her up...made her come hard and long.
Tearing her mouth from his, she muttered, “Condoms?”
“Bedroom,” he rasped back, hiking her legs around him and walking them down the short hallway to his bedroom.
Their bodies separated for only a moment when he sat on the bed, her atop his lap, and reached into his nightstand to pull out a foil packet.
Cat busied herself by yanking off her shirt, then dragging Flynn’s sweater up and over his head.
The heavy curtains were closed, only allowing a small shaft of light from the day’s end between them, giving her a first glimpse of his chest that stole her breath. So many planes and ridges, dusky brown from the sun and not from a fake tanning bed, and with just a sprinkling of dark hair between his pecs.
She wanted to touch his hot flesh, taste it, but not as much as she wanted him deep inside her.
He dropped his head to her breasts, pushing them together with wide hands, sipping at her nipples, nipping at them with his teeth until she thrust her fingers through his thick hair, pulling him close.
Arching her back, she let the sweet heat of his tongue carry her away while the hard flesh of his cock pressed against the space between her thighs.
When he slid her panties over, Cat gasped. Ready. So ready and wet, she lifted her hips and adjusted her trembling legs.
Poised at her entrance, Flynn let out a long breath as her fingers wrapped around his hard length and positioned him.
Flynn lifted his hips then, thrusting upward into her with a primal grunt, and again, he ripped the breath from her lungs, filled her in all the right places, stretched her until they fit.
They stilled, Cat in surprise, Flynn gripping her hips, his eyes searching hers. That moment, one of pure exhilaration for her, came and went when he pulsed inside her, the pull of their need distracting them both.
Cat pushed him back on his deep blue comforter with a flat hand against his yummy chest and closed her eyes.
All she wanted was to feel all this man, live in the very moments she’d accused him of denying himself, run her hands over his rippled flesh.
Flynn thrust upward slow and easy, rolling his hips when Cat leaned back, gripping his thighs for leverage, savoring the sweet simmer beginning in the pit of her belly.
His fingers slipped into her swollen flesh, caressing her clit until her nipples beaded tight and her desire grew slick. Her moans increased, their rhythm increased, had purpose, sought desperate release.
When she opened her eyes, the wave of hea
t was almost too much to bear, and combined with Flynn’s gaze, dark and deep, Cat fell apart. That was her tipping point.
The moment she realized this was all too much, that it felt better than it had ever felt before, was the moment she hissed her release, falling forward against Flynn’s chest, gripping the sheets on either side of his head until her teeth clenched and the sharp sting of orgasm swept her away.
Flynn’s hips bucked beneath her, fusing their bodies, his hands tightening on her butt, and he groaned long and low in her ear. His muscles flexed beneath her, tensing, shifting until he came, too.
Their breath came in rapid puffs, their bodies relaxing in slow increments.
And that’s when they realized what they’d done.
Cat sat upright, her eyes adjusting to the dark room. Damn, damn, damn her impulses. Usually, she was able to keep them in check—unless they had to do with an injustice, she was pretty good at keeping her clothes on until she wanted them off.
But Flynn... Something had happened tonight. Not just incredible sex. Something she couldn’t address—wouldn’t look in the eye.
She’d turned down her fair share of men. She should have turned down this man. This man she’d see over and over at Oakdale until he went back to New York.
This man whose mother she’d grown so fond of. This man who’d taken only a couple of conversations to prove to her they were more than just different—they were polar opposites.
Oh, this man.
* * *
Take that, Miss Throw Caution to the Wind.
Flynn gazed up at Cat, sitting on top of him, beautiful, uninhibited and perfect. He felt as if he’d just managed to climb Mt. Everest naked. Who’s Mr. Stuffy Pants now?
Cat looked down at him, her eyes shadowed for a moment before her snark took over. “So, am I the air that you breathe now?” she asked, slipping from his lap and off the bed.
Just as he was patting himself on the back for dipping his toes into spontaneity, she was slapping him down with that we-shouldn’t-have-done-this look. “Is that regret I hear in your tone, Miss Live in the Moment?”
Smoothing her skirt over her gorgeous thighs, she made a face at him. “You hear nothin’ of the sort.”
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