Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  Her command wasn’t meant as a come-on, but the corners of his mouth quirked upward. He replaced the lid on the bottle and set it on the nightstand next to a leather journal with a ribbon tied around it.

  Cat kept a diary? Now that surprised him . . . a lot. Damn, would he love to read it and finally discover what really went on behind those eyes of hers.

  “Lie back and I’ll grab the bottom,” he ordered, unable to conceal the unexpected rasp in his voice. She lifted her hips as he tugged at the dress and, a few seconds later, she was lying on the bed in nothing but her racy, sheer underwear and high heels.

  Mother of God, his mouth went dry.

  He couldn’t show her less respect than he’d demand another man give his sisters. He couldn’t. Focusing on that thought, he merely removed her shoes and then pulled back the covers.

  “Scoot under here.” He thrust the water bottle at her once she crawled into bed. “Drink it, Cat. I don’t envy the headache you’ll have tomorrow.”

  She kept her eyes locked on his while she guzzled the drink. The enticing stare down lasted for what felt like minutes while he battled his conflicting desires and morals. Somehow his morals prevailed.

  She set the bottle on the nightstand and nestled down into the bed with a smile playing on her lips.

  “Good night, Catalina. Sleep well.” He turned to go.

  “Wait!” She shifted her weight up onto her elbow. Thick falls of hair cascaded over her shoulders as she patted the edge of the bed. “Come back.”

  He crossed his arms and faced her. “Why?”

  “Please,” she said, sitting up in bed.

  The blankets now bunched around her waist. That familiar longing rushed back once again, tempting him beyond bearing. He could give in, crawl beside her to take what she offered. Use her the same way she would use him. But he’d never been that guy, and it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d allow Cat to turn him into one.

  Hank inhaled slowly then sat at the edge of the mattress while rubbing his hands back and forth across the tops of his thighs.

  “Thanks for helping me,” she said.

  Her expression reminded him of the way his sisters used to look when suffering through one of his lectures. He stopped himself from touching her. “You’re welcome.”

  Her uncertain smile twisted him up inside as she reached one hand up and fingered the ends of his hair. “Kiss me goodnight.”

  All the blood drained from his head and raced to his crotch. The relentless throbbing between his legs urged him to comply despite his better judgment. Just a kiss.

  As if watching himself in a dream, he saw his fingers caress her cheek. She raised her chin and parted her lips, and he pressed his mouth against hers. He gave over to the moment, to taste her once more, to slip his tongue inside her mouth and tangle with hers. The faint taste of champagne and honey overwhelmed his senses as he grazed her lower lip with his teeth.

  Time slowed. Every part of his body came alive. She bulldozed her fingers through his hair while moaning, engulfing him in desire.

  “Like I remember,” she whispered against his skin. He’d been teetering on the verge of making a gigantic mistake, until her words summoned bitter reminders of the last time he fell for her games. Abruptly, he grabbed her wrists and pushed back.

  “Hank!” She fell back into her pillow. “Stay.”

  “No.” He had to get out of her room before hell finished freezing over. “Good night.”

  Rising from the mattress, he reached over and turned off the lamp. His gaze lingered on her diary again, but he retreated from the bed.

  “You’re mad about before,” she muttered, half asleep already. “But trust me, I did you a huge favor.”

  He froze in his tracks. Glancing over his shoulder, his breathing slowed as he absorbed her words and the glimpse of self-doubt she hid from the cameras. As apologies go, it wasn’t much. Would she have admitted it if she were sober? Did she really believe what she’d said? Did it even matter anymore?

  Her gentle snore ended his musing. He crept from her room. Standing in the hall with his palm pressed against her closed door, he waited a minute longer before shoving his hand in his pocket and heading down the hall.

  Mom,

  I’m a mess. A drunk-and-awake-at-two-a.m. mess. How’d I get to my room? And why does my butt hurt? Did I fall? I hope no one snapped a picture. Glad you won’t be here to deal with the aftermath of whatever degrading candid photos end up on Twitter and Instagram. Then again, you were always the best at talking me off the ledge in a crisis.

  I still miss you so much.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  An intermittent buzzing sound penetrated Cat’s brain from a distance. With each passing second, it grew louder and more insistent. Stop drilling my head! She pulled a pillow over her ears, only to become disoriented by the starched scent of the unfamiliar bed linens.

  Opening her eyes, she squinted in the sunlight flooding through the window. Turning toward the awful alarm clock, she reached over and swatted it with her open palm three times before finding the Off button. Thank God! She collapsed back into the bed and rubbed her sore hand.

  Her tongue felt like someone had Scotch taped it to the roof of her mouth, and tasted even worse. Despite the silenced alarm, the throbbing in her head continued drumming an echo of that offending beat.

  She stared at the ceiling, praying for a miraculous recovery from her hangover before the postwedding brunch.

  After several brutal minutes, she sat up. That was when she noticed her dress on the chair, and that she’d slept in her bra and panties. She slid her hands over her face and combed her fingers through her hair.

  Cringing, she searched her memory to recall how she’d ended up in this condition. Another quick survey of the room revealed an empty water bottle on the nightstand. Her shoes sat neatly placed under the chair where her dress was draped.

  She cocked one brow, doubting she’d done that herself.

  Hazy moments began to surface: Hank lifting her off the floor, the smell of his skin, him tugging off her dress, a kiss, him leaving. Within seconds those memories sharpened, and with each new detail, her embarrassment became more profound.

  How many people, other than Hank, had noticed her drunken behavior? She itched to write down her feelings, but then another horrifying thought caused panic. Had Hank read her journal? Cripes, it was sitting there for the world to see, and the strap was untied.

  She hastily scanned her most recent entries—humbling fears scribbled on paper.

  She shut her eyes, forcing herself to shrink the ball of alarm lodged in her heart. She’d barely stifled those thoughts when troubling new ones sprang forth.

  Now she’d have to face Hank over breakfast and pretend like nothing unusual had happened last night. Like he didn’t know all of her secrets. Like he wasn’t feeling sorry for her.

  Pressing both heels of her hands to her temples, she squeezed her eyes closed once more. She rubbed her thumb between her eyebrows to smooth out the creases before blowing out a long breath. After jotting down a brief new entry to clear her mind, she tied up the journal and set it aside.

  Her muscles ached. It had been a long, long time since she’d gotten drunk to chase away restlessness. Now shame swam through her veins for having been unable to handle all the love at her brother’s wedding.

  Fortunately by tomorrow she’d be back to other matters, like her career. As for last night, hopefully the hot water of a long shower would wash away her humiliation.

  Nope.

  Although clean, she still felt like hell. Sighing, she reverted to her typical response—dressing to kill. Riffling through the numerous outfits she’d packed for the long weekend, she chose a sophisticated, blood-orange Robert Rodriguez sleeveless shift minidress and nude-tone, high-heeled sandals.

  She brushed her hair into a low, side-swept ponytail, applied a minimal amount of makeup, popped two Advil, and went to breakfast on the veranda.

  Seagull
s squawked and flew close to the shoreline, with a few braver ones landing on the nearby railing. The view from the Spring House—a 163-year-old historic landmark—was pretty, if not as magnificent as the one from their family vacation home on the Mohegan Bluffs. Admittedly, the magical quality dusk had lent last night no longer crackled in the air. Beneath a brilliant sun this morning, there were no shadows or soft lighting to hide the defects of the sun-bleached wood, dry patches of grass, or the debris along the shoreline.

  Jackson had already claimed a table, so she joined him. She noticed David and Vivi were standing at another table, speaking with some of his colleagues. The slick black hair of one guy triggered an unpleasant memory of drinking shots. She swallowed the resulting wave of nausea and sipped some water to break up the acid in her stomach.

  “Where’s Dad?” she asked Jackson.

  “He and Janet took an early ferry.” He scratched his neck. Cat noticed his puffy eyelids and the deep creases in his face. “Apparently they had someplace to be this afternoon.”

  “What time are we leaving?”

  “I left my car on the mainland, so we can take any ferry. I’d like to leave in an hour or so.” Jackson emptied a packet of sugar into his coffee. “I’ll drive you to Stamford so you can catch an express train to Grand Central.”

  “Sounds great, thanks.” The festivities had drained her. She needed to return to her private haven and plan her next move. Plus, her elderly neighbor, Esther Morganstein, relied on Cat to grocery shop for her every Sunday afternoon. They’d formed a tradition of having tea when she delivered the food. Esther eagerly anticipated their weekly visit because her own family now lived in Texas, and Cat enjoyed the plucky old woman’s company.

  “You look a little rough.” Jackson leaned over and tipped up her chin to study her eyes. “Bloodshot! Did you get to your room okay last night? You never said goodnight.”

  “I’m fine.” She waved her hand dismissively, biting back a retort about looking in the mirror. “If you’re so concerned, maybe you should pay a little more attention to your baby sister before the fact, not after.”

  “Well, I got distracted.” He winked devilishly. “Actually, I feel a little shitty myself. Hank and I were smoking stogies out here when Amy and her friend Denise joined us for a few late-night drinks. After that, my memory’s a bit fuzzy.”

  “Nothing more to tell?” So Hank had doubled back to hook up with Amy. She nibbled at her lip, dying for more details.

  “Nah. I left them all when I finished my cigar.” Jackson gulped down some coffee then smiled slyly as he looked toward the hotel doorway. “But maybe Hank has something to confess.”

  Cat followed his gaze to see Hank and Amy coming outside together. Was it a coincidence, or had they arrived together? She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Hank momentarily blanched upon seeing her. Another wave of nausea gurgled.

  “Over here!” Jackson waved his cohort over to their table.

  Cat steeled herself, unsure of how to react. The knot in her stomach wasn’t helping, nor was the fact that Hank pulled out another frickin’ chair for Amy. Great.

  “Good morning.” Hank nodded at Cat before sitting beside Amy. He met her gaze, which she prayed meant he hadn’t read her journal. Surely he’d be too uncomfortable to look her in the eye if he had.

  “For some more than others,” Cat muttered. Wistfully she once again wondered if, in another place and time, she could have had a relationship with Hank.

  When Amy leaned nearer to him, pride urged Cat to retreat and regroup. Jealousy was never attractive, and she’d be damned if she let anyone see it affect her, especially when she didn’t understand where it was coming from. “I’m going to make myself a plate. Can I bring anything back for the table?”

  Thankfully, everyone declined. She stood and sashayed toward the buffet table inside, thankful years of walking runways ensured her departure would look graceful and sexy even when her legs felt a bit wobbly. Amy might have been able to boast an amazing set of “girlfriends,” but Cat had great-looking, mile-high legs, and she wasn’t shy about using whatever assets she had at her disposal.

  The aroma of bacon and sausage made her gag. No big loss considering bacon hadn’t been part of her diet for a decade. Given how many liquid calories she’d consumed last night, she should refrain.

  She surveyed the fruits and yogurt, but then Dr. Wexler’s weight-gain prescription tempted her to consider the basket full of warm muffins. Oh, screw it. She needed something heavy to absorb the remnants of alcohol in her system. Without allowing time for hesitation, she snatched a chocolate chip muffin from the basket and took a bite.

  “Once again you’re the most glamorous woman in the room,” chirped a familiar voice.

  Startled, Cat turned to find Vivi standing at her shoulder.

  “Please speak softly.” Cat rubbed her temple, grimacing. “I’m nursing a big headache.”

  “I thought you seemed a little drunk last night. Trying to deflect attention from your hangover with this attention-grabbing outfit?” Vivi tilted her head sideways. Suddenly she glanced toward the porch and back at Cat, her expression knowing. “Or is it something more interesting? Is Hank the reason for this sexy getup?”

  Cat couldn’t hide her surprise. She cast a quick glance toward the veranda.

  “Spill, Cat. Did something more happen between you two last night?” Vivi bit her lip and, with a hopeful glint in her eyes, squeezed Cat’s arm. “Hank probably feels comfortable with Amy, but she’s not right for him. Want me to run interference?” Vivi’s eyes radiated girlish conspiracy.

  “I know you believe in love and destiny, V, but don’t go looking for it for me.” When Vivi failed to appear dissuaded, Cat added, “And don’t expect me to find it with Hank. You make me regret ever telling you about that old kiss.”

  Vivi shrugged off the comment and threw her arm around Cat’s waist. “It’s okay. I know you don’t mean to be surly to me the morning after my wedding. Now that we’re actually family, I’ll cut you extra slack.” Vivi dropped the subject of Hank and eyed Cat’s plate. “You really don’t know a thing about how to make the most of a buffet, Cat. Pathetic, that’s what your plate is. Pathetic.” She smiled and elbowed Cat aside. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Cat barked a genuine laugh, which felt great. “I’ll see you back at the table.”

  When Cat returned to her seat, Amy’s radar practically reached across the table and touched her.

  “So, Cat, Vivi says you two have been friends since eighth grade. This marriage is really a family affair, isn’t it?” Amy sipped her tea. “And your father’s speech and gift were so touching. I can’t wait to tell all of our friends back at work. Everyone’s thrilled for her, although we worry she’ll be looking for a job on the Upper East Side soon.”

  Cat habitually managed her own awkward feelings by donning a mask of quiet confidence. Apparently Amy managed hers by becoming chatty.

  “I doubt she’s planning to switch schools. She’s pretty loyal.” Cat forced a pleasant smile while speaking with the attractive girl who’d caught Hank’s eye this weekend. “Astoria’s only a thirty-minute commute from David’s.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Amy then smiled a genuine, warm smile.

  Cat wanted to hate her, but couldn’t. It wasn’t Amy’s fault Cat had tossed Hank aside. Cat had many flaws, but blaming others for her own problems wasn’t one of them.

  Although life looked challenging today, Cat didn’t need Hank or anyone else to help her turn things around. She alone would figure out how to make the best of her situation—whatever it turned out to be—and move on. It was simply a matter of discipline.

  That and time.

  She cast a sideways glance at Hank, who appeared stiffer than normal as he spoke with Jackson. Cat suddenly needed to know what he’d done after rejecting her last night.

  “So, what fun did I miss with my early departure? Jackson tells me there was a private ‘after-h
ours’ party out here.”

  Amy’s cheeks turned pink and she darted a quick glance at Hank, which made Cat settle for saying, “Hmm, that good? Sorry I missed it.”

  Thankfully, David and Vivi arrived at the table, rescuing her from the awkward conversation. But then Cat noticed Vivi sizing up Hank, Amy, and her, and had second thoughts about being saved.

  “Good morning, all.” Vivi practically sang her words as she set a heaping plate of waffles, bacon, fruit, and muffins in front of her seat. “Everyone feeling well this morning?”

  “You eat more than any man I’ve ever known, yet you never get any bigger.” Jackson chuckled. “You’re a freak of nature, V.”

  “So I’m told.” She grinned and then bit a chunk off her muffin.

  David leaned close to her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder, and whispered, “You’re perfect,” into Vivi’s ear before he kissed her temple.

  “Oh, boy. Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” Jackson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and shot a disappointed look at David. He glanced down and shook his head. “Can’t we joke around like always without you getting all sappy? Seriously!”

  “I didn’t stop your teasing,” David said.

  “No, but you’re worried she’ll be hurt by a joke she’s heard from me a million times before.” Jackson winked at Vivi before spearing David with a withering stare. “Cut it out, man.”

  David held his hands up in surrender, then brushed his hand along Vivi’s thigh and sat back. He scrutinized Cat with the intensity she’d come to expect from and love about her oldest brother. “You don’t look like yourself this morning.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Enough already with being told how shitty she looked today. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who had a few too many drinks last night.” Cat cast a quick glance at Jackson, who frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. David stared at Jackson for an extra second, then returned his attention to Cat.

  “I noticed Marc and Eric sniffing around you all evening,” he continued. “Were they giving you trouble?”