Turned out, it hadn’t been the worst thing to happen to her in broad daylight—not by a long shot. But plum crazy? Yes, sir.
Landon had indeed offered her what he called help. He’d done it with flourish, lots of arcing hand gestures and that ever-present amused twinkle in his eyes.
As Cat made her way toward his home, the towering glass-and-chrome building where Landon had invited her to a home-cooked meal by Sanjeev, passing expensive shops and cars worth more than she’d make in a lifetime of work, she felt around the inside of her purse to be sure the can of pepper spray was where she could find it.
After the tale Landon had told her, she was more than a little skeptical. No. She was downright incredulous, leading her to wonder what she really knew about the real-world Landon Wells anyway. Where did all his money come from?
She’d read all about the internet businesses he’d created, seen the occasional gossip article linking him with a prince in some far-off country. He’d certainly had his fair share of wild adventures.
So was he just eclectic-crazy, or crazy-crazy?
Please don’t let him be a serial killer. Not after he’s been so nice. Her day had already been ugly enough.
As a precaution, one she felt sick with guilt about even considering, she’d made sure her pepper spray was in her purse before leaving her place. There’d be no drugging an unsuspecting Cat Butler and stuffing her body parts into a black garbage bag and dumping her body at the local Winn-Dixie, thank you very much. That wouldn’t pay her mother’s hospital bills.
Yet, how could she possibly stay away after what he’d proposed to her? It was outrageous. She’d done nothing but think about it all afternoon long.
All while she’d dug out a dress for the dinner and taken a long, hot soak in the antiquated tub in her studio apartment. And while she’d blow-dried her hair and applied her makeup.
Now, as she gave the doorman her name, her legs trembled and her heart beat painfully hard.
The spry gentleman, dressed in an immaculate black suit with brass cuff links at his wrists and a gray tie, swept his arm toward the elevators. “This way, Miss Butler. Mr. Wells has a private entry elevator to his penthouse.”
The buzz of her phone made her hold her finger up and dig it out of her purse.
Oakdale calling. Her heart began that heavy thud of dread in her chest, making her send up a silent prayer that Landon wasn’t some crazy rich man who was prepping his prey. She pressed the decline button and stuffed her phone back in her purse.
If this job were for real, she’d be able to make that payment.
“Cat?”
She whirled around, stumbling in her heels. Flynn caught her by the elbow, sending a shot of electricity along her arm and a pool of warmth to her cheeks. Her first instinct was to fire off a warning shot. “Shouldn’t you be off looking for someone else to get fired? Or are your plans more laid-back tonight? Maybe just an employee write-up or two on the agenda?”
Boo, Cat. That’s totally unfair. It wasn’t his fault he’d been the final straw for Arlo. It was just dumb luck. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else.
After some thought, Cat decided he had every right to look out for his mother’s best interests. He might be narrow-minded about it, but he was doing it out of love.
Cat fully expected him to shoot a poison arrow back. Instead, he grinned, that grin that left her stomach wishy-washy and her pulse erratic. The one with the deep grooves on either side of his sexy mouth and lips she wanted to tug on with her teeth. “Still mad?”
Pulling her purse to her side, she looped her fingers into the strap and admitted defeat. “I’m not mad. It really wasn’t your fault. You were just the catalyst to a long list of complaints Arlo had about me. Forget it ever happened.” She turned to move toward the elevators, but he stuck his body between her and the up button.
Cat bit the inside of her cheek. That chest. Wide. Hard. Lightly tanned. A broad space where a girl could rest her head. Mercy, mercy.
If it were any other day but today, and he didn’t want to see her skewered over a roaring flame for corrupting his mother, she might have flirted with Flynn McGrady—even as stuffy and conservative as he was.
But today wasn’t that day.
Flynn looked down at her, his dark blue eyes melting her from the inside out. “Yeah. About that. I’d like to apologize for goading you. I was out of line. I was hoping maybe we could talk? Are you busy now?”
“I have an...appointment.” A date with crazy. A liaison with lunacy.
“Here?” He didn’t even try to hide his surprise.
She wondered if he was surprised because she was, after all, headed up to a rich man’s penthouse. In a red dress and heels. But it was none of his business why she was here. Let him think what he wanted. “Yes.”
“Maybe when you’re done we could talk? If you have time after, that is.”
Cat cocked her head, her brow furrowing. “I’m a little confused. What do we have to talk about, Mr. McGrady?”
“Flynn. Call me Flynn. I live in the building. Just leased a place here for a few months to be closer to my mother in her recovery. I was hoping we could talk.”
Wait. Flynn lived in this building. Her libido would never survive. “I thought you lived in New York?”
“I did. I do. But my company is internet-based. I can work anywhere. The commute was keeping me from seeing my mother as much as I’d like, so I decided, at least for now, this was the best place for me to be. So are you open to having a cup of coffee with me?”
Was her asking her out? After their spat? Oh, no. She couldn’t get to know Mr. Stuffy. Not with everything she had on her plate right now. She didn’t have time for any distractions. Especially when they looked and smelled like Flynn. He was the kind of man distraction was made for. Sin and scandal. “For...?”
“For my mother’s sake.” He tacked on another grin.
Della. Of course, this was about Della. Cat crumbled at the mention of her. The folks at Oakdale had become like their family since her mother had been there, and Della was akin to a favorite aunt.
Rather than let her worry about Della’s state show, she put a hand to her hip and affected a flirty pose. “Why, Flynn McGrady, did you just deal me a mom card?”
His smile was sheepish, but his eyes were determined. “I’m a desperate, desperate man.”
Not a man in sight for over a year and suddenly, her dance card was full with a gay man who might murder her in his swanky penthouse, and a hunk who obviously wasn’t poor if he lived here that wanted to talk about his mother.
Huh.
But it was Della, and he’d moved here to be with his mother in her recuperation. If he was a mama’s boy, he was at least a good one. That gave her a fizzy feeling in her stomach she didn’t want. “I’m due for dinner...with a friend. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
He backed up and began moving toward the common elevator, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m up late most nights. Apartment 24-C. No funny stuff. Promise.”
The elevator doors opened, and Flynn gave her a quick wave followed by another one of those delicious grins he’d apparently been saving up, before the doors closed and he was gone.
Cat stood for a moment in the cool silence of the ultramodern lobby of Landon’s building and just breathed.
Could this day get any crazier?
* * *
She’d never, ever question the power of crazy again.
“Ah, Ms. Butler. Pleasure to see you,” Sanjeev, Landon’s faithful friend in whatever he’d titled him, said with a bow. Dressed in a pristine white kurta, he waved Cat inside Landon’s penthouse.
Or palace, if one was to split hairs.
From the moment her heels hit the marble flooring, Cat knew she was gaping. She just di
dn’t know how to stop. This wasn’t an apartment; this was a monument to opulence. A decadent space full of rich colors in rust, red and dark green, amazing textures in luscious silks and all sorts of statues from every corner of the world.
Landon’s couch alone, one she knew would swallow her whole if she sat on it, was probably worth more than her Prius. There were leather wing-backed chairs with lush throws, a baby grand piano by French doors leading out to a patio, rows of teak doors stained in dark walnut, one leading to a library with a bigger selection of books than the local used bookstore. Art covered the walls, art she knew had to be expensive.
Sanjeev leaned into her space just a bit. “It’s a lot to take in all at once, yes?”
Cat slammed her mouth shut and simply nodded. A lot? It was more than a lot. It was a sensory overload. Was this really Landon’s? Was he really that rich?
Sanjeev smiled, his white teeth a beautiful glow with the backdrop of his olive coloring. “Yes. Landon is really that rich. It will grow on you, I promise. For now, please follow me. Landon said you’d be dining on the terrace. It’s a lovely night, don’t you think? Not too hot just yet.”
She hesitated when Sanjeev began to move away from the front door, her feet refusing to follow him. What if the real-world Landon really was some crazy murderer and his chemo had just slowed him down temporarily?
What if this was some elaborate ruse and she was too distracted by all the shiny, expensive things he had to look at to pay attention.
Sanjeev sighed. Cat didn’t sense impatience, just a sort of acceptance. Like he’d been to this rodeo before. “I promise you, Ms. Butler, Landon is not a monster with your death as an item on the menu.”
Cat winced. “Was I that obvious?”
“You all are.”
“All?”
“Not a soul who works for Landon passed through these doors without the same mixture of fear and awe upon their faces. It comes with the territory and the job offer. Do you have an item in your purse you might club him with should this turn as ugly, as your darkest fears lead you to believe?”
She stared at him, his expression as cool as a cucumber. “Um, pepper spray?”
He motioned to her purse with another smile. “Pull it out. If at any moment, you feel the least bit uncomfortable, have it ready for use. Now, please do follow me. I’ve made a beautiful Chateaubriand accompanied by crisp fingerling potatoes and market-fresh green beans that will completely spoil if we wait another moment.” Sanjeev didn’t wait for her compliance; he meandered through the beautiful furnishings and headed toward the twinkling lights out on the terrace.
So she followed, holding the pepper spray like it was a cross and Sanjeev was Lestat.
Chapter Four
Flynn picked up one of the books he’d confiscated from his mother’s stash, courtesy of Cat, and flipped through it, forcing himself to focus on his mother’s recovery and not the way Cat’s ass had looked in that red dress.
Or the way her creamy skin picked up the glow of the sunset through the apartment building’s lobby—or the scent of her hair, a fruity concoction that stayed with him long after she was in the elevator.
And who was she going to see? The desk refused to tell him who lived in the penthouse, discretion being the excuse, and one of the reasons he’d chosen this building.
Maybe it was some celebrity?
Why did he care?
Because she’s sparked your interest, pal. Oh, and your mother likes her better than you.
Does not.
She does, too.
Damn. He had to find a way to make this right with Cat. If she stopped coming to see his mother...
He took a long pull from his beer and focused on trying to understand what his mother found so interesting about these romance novels. He needed a way to connect with her again—something they could talk about.
If reading about vampires and the women who loved them was his in, he’d take it, even if it made his eyeballs bleed.
Did Cat read these kinds of books?
Again, why do you care, McGrady?
Skimming the middle of a chapter, Flynn frowned. Oh, c’mon. No guy said stuff like this. Not any guys he knew, anyway.
You’re the reason I breathe?
Your lungs are the reason you breathe.
He ran a hand over his jaw. How the hell was he going to get through this?
Talk Cat into helping you, that’s how. Now get reading.
* * *
Landon tipped his wineglass in Cat’s direction, his amused eyes glittering beneath the strands upon strands of soft white lights woven in and out of enormous topiary trees and along the balcony overlooking the city. “Are you feelin’ less like I’m gonna dismember you, Cat?”
She felt amazing. She’d never had food quite so decadent before, literally served on silver platters and real china. “I feel a little less like I need the pepper spray, but don’t you forget, my uncle Ray-Ray taught me how to shoot.” Cat hitched her jaw to the can on the table next to her plate. “I’m not afraid to use it, and I’m pretty quick on the draw.”
Landon laughed, wiping his mouth and dropping the napkin on the table. “So, have you had time to let my offer sink in?”
Cat fought the panic that she’d find her mother on the street tomorrow morning—evicted for her slacker daughter’s nonpayment. “I’m mulling.”
“Mulling, huh? Pushed it around that steel-trap brain of yours?”
If that sumptuous meal she’d spend two days running off in the park wasn’t enough, the wine, rich and mellow, had calmed her nerves a bit.
He’d turned out to be the same old Landon who showed up every day at the coffee shop, sharing stories of his travels and making her laugh with his jokes.
He told her all about how he’d made his millions at a very young age with a startup internet company. He reminisced about his small hometown of Plum Orchard, Georgia, just a few hours out of Atlanta. and the people he loved there. How much he missed his friends Dixie and Caine and even the bunch of snooty gossips called the Magnolias, who ran the town like the Southern mob.
What remained for her was the same connection she’d felt to him in the nursing home. The warm joy he exuded always left her feeling good inside, feeling like they could be lifelong friends.
So Cat gave him a saucy grin similar to the ones she’d given him when male customers made unwanted advances. “Now you don’t suppose I could let somethin’ like the nuttier-than-squirrel-dung offer you made me today go without at least some thought, do you, Landon Wells, you crazier-’n’-a-bedbug, eccentric multimillionaire? Do you?”
Landon grinned. “Then you’ll take a stroll to the back of the penthouse with me?”
“Not without my nut-away spray.” She scooped the pepper spray and her purse up, putting her arm through his arm with a gracious smile.
His footing became unsteady for a mere second, but it alarmed her. “You okay there, fancy feet?”
If she’d learned one thing about Landon in all the time she’d known him, it was, he despised pity of any kind. He was forever waving away the nurses when they offered to plump his pillows or wipe his mouth after a particularly bad round of chemo. If he were writhing in agony, he’d tell you he was right as daffodils in spring.
“Strong as an ox. I swear on my mama’s civil war-era dishes.”
“They had dishes in the civil war?”
“My mama ought know, she’s at least that old.”
Cat’s head fell back on her shoulders as she laughed, the tension in her stomach easing.
As they made their way through the living room, past two bathrooms and a room with a pool table, Landon commented on some of the pieces decorating each area.
He stopped at two double doors, painted in black enamel with the init
ials CG, bracketed by two potted palms lush with green fronds. “Are you ready?”
Cat’s stomach did that nervous-jump thing it had done when she’d first entered his apartment. “If you open those doors and there are body parts hangin’ from meat hooks, I’m gonna take you out at the knees, Landon Wells. People know where I am, too, just in case you thought you’d get away with skinnin’ me alive.”
He laughed again, flashing his white teeth. Clearly, he was enjoying himself. “No meat hooks.”
“Dead bodies?”
Landon wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I sure hope not. Those are always a problem for Sanjeev to dispose of. And complain? You don’t know complainin’ until you’ve heard Sanjeev carry on.”
Now she laughed, too. “Okay, I’m ready.” She wasn’t really ready. She still didn’t really believe him. This job offer of his was beyond outrageous and well on its way to surreal.
Not for a second did she believe he was telling her the truth.
Then Landon popped the doors open.
And once more, her mouth gaped.
He gave a gentle tap to the underside of her chin with his index finger. “Flies. You don’t want flies in there,” he reminded.
Cat’s eyes felt like they were going to fall out of her head and roll at her feet.
Landon crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a lot, right?”
Understatements weren’t something Landon was known for, but the words a lot were the biggest understatement in the universe when used to describe what she was seeing.
“Do you want a minute? Maybe gather your thoughts? Put your head between your knees?”
A woman with gobs of big platinum-blond hair and nails painted a glittery purple strolled out from beyond the doors. She smiled at Landon as she passed by, her bright-hued maxi-dress trailing behind her and hugging her ample breasts. “Evenin’, boss,” she chirped, shooting Cat a brief if not curious smile before heading back off toward the front part of the penthouse.
He leaned into Cat. “That’s LaDawn Jenkins, by the way. Best girl I’ve got. In case you wanted to know.”
Talk This Way Page 3