by Jamie Beck
“Hi, Esther!” Cat waved. “Need help?”
“Cat, dear. Don’t you look lovely!” Esther’s New York accent inflected her warble. Her posture straightened a bit when she caught sight of Hank. Flashing a grin too coy for a woman her age—a grin that added several creases to her wrinkled face—she asked, “Who’s this handsome young man?”
“Oh, this is Hank.” Cat stepped aside. “Hank, this is Esther Morganstein, my neighbor and friend.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Hank shook her hand and used the opportunity to relieve her of her mail. “Let me carry these for you.”
“Thank you.” Esther smiled. Cat could’ve sworn Esther purred. As the threesome gradually made their way toward the elevator, Esther turned to Hank. “You look like a nice young man. Be sure to treat my Cat with respect.”
“Of course—” Hank began, but Cat interrupted him.
“Esther, Hank and I aren’t dating. He works for my brother. He’s just here to help me sort out my storage problems.”
“Oh, honey, I told you the solution. You have too many things. Get rid of half and you’ll still have too much.” Esther’s fragile chuckle made Hank grin. Cat had to admit he looked damned handsome wearing a grin. Esther pointed a bony finger at Hank. “You’ll see. Too many things!”
“I’m sure yours is the easiest and most practical solution, Mrs. Morganstein.” Hank cocked his head, eyes twinkling, as he continued. “But she likes having lots of options. One never knows what the weather will be like, or what kind of mood she might be in from minute to minute.”
Cat dipped her chin and narrowed her eyes, remembering having uttered that exact rationale to defend the many suitcases she’d brought to Block Island.
“Hmph. I think you’re secretly jealous of my fashion sense.” She let her eyes deliberately graze the length of him. As usual, he wore a fitted, collarless, cotton T-shirt that hugged each sinewy muscle in his chest and shoulders. Low-slung cargo shorts showed off his trim waist and narrow hips. His orange-and-tan Merrell sandals were practical, if unattractive. They say clothes make the man, but in his case, it simply wasn’t true. Not that she’d let him know it. “Clearly, you need pointers, Hank,” she said with a grin.
“Touché,” he replied, while winking at Esther. Cat noticed his comfortable familiarity with the old lady. He seemed relaxed and at ease in a situation most men might find awkward at best.
They followed Esther to her door, where Hank handed her the mail.
“Don’t forget to call me with your grocery list, Esther,” Cat reminded her. “I’ll be by tomorrow around two o’clock.”
“Thank you, dear.” Esther turned to Hank with a flirtatious look in her eyes. “I hope this isn’t the last time I’ll be seeing you.” Esther waved her bony hand at Cat’s shocked expression. “Well, I’m old, but I’m not blind!”
Hank chuckled aloud as Esther closed her door. Looking at him standing there—a green-eyed, golden-haired hunk of testosterone—Cat couldn’t blame Esther for her reaction. Cat wasn’t blind, either.
Mom,
It’s strange to consider how much David and Vivi’s lives (and mine) have changed in just two weeks. They’re married, embarking on a sparkly new life together—maybe considering starting a family. Then there’s me, facing a childless future and fading career.
When I’ve felt blue, I’ve relived parts of the wedding weekend—the flowers, Vivi’s constant smile, David’s tender glances, Dad’s toast, and Hank playing my hero (if somewhat reluctantly). I’m grateful he whisked me away from those jerks, and that he refused to take advantage of my drunkenness (although maybe I could have forgiven him for taking a little advantage, if you know what I mean).
The world needs more men like Hank, doesn’t it?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Traces of pink stained Cat’s cheeks as she snatched her keys from her purse. Before Hank could read much into her blush or ask about her relationship with Esther, he spotted the number of dead bolts on her door and frowned. This upscale neighborhood shouldn’t have a serious crime problem, so why all the locks?
When the last one clicked open, Cat looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Home.”
The way she’d said it while grinning at him made it seem like they’d arrived at their home. Another freakin’ fantasy.
Even so, he couldn’t wait to get inside, having imagined her home many times since they’d met—brightly colored fabrics, stark modern lines, mirrors, and a few frilly accents. When he stepped inside, he immediately saw nothing he’d expected was true.
Brazilian cherry wood flooring lent warmth to the understated, homey space. The painted beige walls were offset with creamy-white trim. Interior French doors added an airy touch despite the small size of the rooms, so unlike the McMansions he’d become accustomed to building.
Her furniture was transitional but not modern, upholstered in neutral silks and suede, with dark, glossy wood accents. It was tasteful, elegant, and relaxing. Not at all what he’d pictured, but so much better.
He smiled at the thought of her here, then frowned at how vivid his daydreams would be after having seen her private space, which held the intoxicating aroma of her spicy perfume mixed with something earthy, like cedar. He scrubbed his hands over his face.
“What’s wrong?” Cat stared at him with her head cocked to one side.
“Nothing.” He rested his hands on his hips while willing his arousal into submission. “It’s pretty, Cat. Suits you.”
“Thanks. I fell for its cozy charm.” She pressed her lips together and, magically, he felt it between his legs. “It blinded me to its major shortcoming. Come on, I’ll show you the problem.”
His thoughts raced in all directions as they approached her bedroom. For reasons still unclear to him—especially after being jilted—his body responded to hers like with no other woman on the planet. His caveman instinct to toss her on her bed and take her might be difficult to hide.
Thankfully, they stopped in the spare bedroom first.
“See the piled-up boxes of stuff I can’t put away?” She strode across the room to the small closet. When she glanced at him, he noticed a calculating look in her eyes, but couldn’t imagine why. Probably just more games for her own amusement. “This closet stores my formal wear.”
She opened the door to reveal a space jam-packed with glittering, silky gowns. Gowns that had hugged her body the way he might’ve liked to, he thought as a shiver traced down his spine. His eyes widened as he processed the fact that the overstuffed closet contained only her formal wear.
Cat held up her pointer finger. “No judgments, please. I know—I have a problem. Hazard of my job, I guess.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “No judgments.” The price tags shocked him, but maybe she got some of the stuff for free, like movie stars. Quit analyzing her and focus. Scanning the small room, he asked, “So what other closet space do you have?”
She tipped her head toward the door. “This way.”
He followed her into her bedroom. It was lovely, and that wasn’t a word Hank used—ever. A needlepoint carpet covered a good portion of the floor. Her sleigh bed, constructed of a bird’s-eye maple and draped in a creamy satin duvet, dominated the room. Three pale-pink-and-green velvet decorative pillows added a splash of color. Feminine yet sophisticated.
Hank bit back a groan as he envisioned her lying amidst the bedding, her long, dark hair fanned out—or tangled around his fingers. The clarity of his vision fed the desire already coursing through his body. Despite his better judgment, apparently Cat St. James would always be his weakness.
Closing his eyes as if he could block out the image, he forced himself to turn away and survey the rest of the room. The only other furniture included a small nightstand and a narrow dresser with a mirror, both of which matched the sleigh bed.
Above her bed hung a sizable charcoal sketch of the figure of a woman with a “V” scrawled in its bottom right corner. He guessed Vivi drew it. Ca
t’s sentimentality—one of the traits he’d fallen for that first night—reinforced his love-hate relationship with the many ways she caught him off guard.
His silence must’ve drawn her attention.
“You’ve awfully quiet.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s not what I expected.” I want you so much.
“How so?” Cat crossed her arms as if preparing to be insulted. He could be misreading her, but he didn’t think so. The contrast between her invincible persona and her peculiar moments of self-doubt intrigued him.
“Well, based on what little I know of you—your clothes, your ‘image’—I expected something more colorful, maybe even a little wild.” He noticed her frown. “I like this much better. It’s peaceful. A sanctuary, I guess.”
This time her crimson lips broke open to reveal her perfect smile. Making her smile that broadly satisfied him beyond belief. “It is a sanctuary. This is where I relax.”
“I’m glad.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her. Her spellbinding gaze rendered him speechless. When his chest tightened a little, he had to cough so he could speak. “How about you show me the closet?”
She groaned and pointed to the set of bifold doors. “Stand back,” she warned before opening them.
Good God, her stuff consumed every square inch of space. Miraculously, nothing tumbled onto their heads. Hank clamped his hand across his mouth to keep from laughing. Once he collected himself, he studied the closet, then turned to mull over the wall with the single window.
“I know.” Cat slumped her shoulders. “It’s hopeless.”
“Not if you’re willing to give up the floor space running along this wall.” Hank pointed at the window.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you could build two armoire-style built-in units on either side of the window, and even put a storage drawer beneath the window.”
“Hmmm . . .” She crossed the room to stand next to him and stare at the wall, trying to picture what he’d described.
Her perfume instantly danced across his nerves like fingers on a fret board, making his body resonate like guitar strings. Feeding his insatiable hunger for her. He needed to get out of her apartment soon or he might forget about why she was all wrong for him.
“But that would look generic.” She turned to him, the scheming look back in her eyes. “I love what you made for Vivi. Could what you’re describing be handcrafted as a single piece of furniture?”
“Possibly.” He intentionally placed distance between them to escape temptation. Refocusing on the task at hand, he eyed the length of the wall, which he guessed to be roughly fourteen feet long. “It’d be massive, though, and you couldn’t take it elsewhere unless your new place had this same wall configuration and measurements.”
He noticed her dark brown eyes narrow in thought, so he continued with his description. “Either way, you’d have lots of extra hanging or shelf space, and the bench seat could house shoe shelves or drawers. It would also free up the old closet for your out-of-season stuff, especially if you install an organization system.”
“That’s true!” Her hand gripped his forearm, immediately heightening his awareness of her again. She looked around the room as if trying to envision what he’d described, utterly unaware of the effect of her touch on his skin. Wide-eyed and smiling, she asked, “Could you really build it for me?”
No way.
“Cat, I can’t do this work for you.” Even if he wanted to—and parts of him sure did—he didn’t have the time. “I thought you needed help with ideas.”
“But this could be perfect for both of us.” She released his arm, leaving him stripped of her touch. “Once it’s finished, I could show it off, introduce you to wealthy friends. To the world! We could turn this hobby of yours into a career.”
He didn’t want to think about how she’d homed in on his dreams, because he couldn’t afford to start a risky new venture at this point in his life. Not while his family still depended on him and his income, and definitely not with a woman who’d proven so fickle since they’d first met.
He forced himself to shake his head. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, I’ve got a full-time job with Jackson. Secondly, you live an hour’s drive from me in good traffic conditions. I need to stick closer to home.” He withheld the details of his mother’s health to avoid seeing pity reflected in her eyes.
“Jackson would give you time off if I asked him.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, Cat. We’re seriously short-staffed now, and he’s made promises we can’t possibly keep. He needs me on-site unless he plans to irritate his clients. Besides, I’m getting lots of overtime working for him. I need the extra money.”
She stepped back and glanced away, twirling her hair around a finger. “Are those the real reasons, or are you making excuses because you don’t like me much?”
The accusation and raw emotion stunned him, knocking him off balance. An hour ago he’d have guessed his opinion of her meant nothing. And dammit, how’d she come to a conclusion so far off the mark? Distrust, yes, but not dislike.
“I don’t dislike you, Cat, so get that out of your head.” Her doubtful expression slipped behind his defenses, but he wasn’t about to stand there and profess his wild desire. “Trust me, those are my real reasons.”
Her chin dipped low. “Fine.”
Her rapid descent from delight to dejection landed a punch to his gut. “I’ll draw some plans for you, okay? Someone else can do the actual work. How’s that for a compromise?”
His phone rang before she could respond. Recognizing Jenny’s ringtone, he answered the call. “Sorry, give me a second.” He turned away from Cat. “Hey, Jenny. What’s up?”
“Hank, Mom’s really restless and agitated. No one can handle her like you. Will you be home soon?”
“I’m in the city. It’ll be at least an hour, maybe a bit more.”
“Try to hurry. She keeps pointing out the window. Is it safe for me to take her to sit in the backyard?”
“Sure. Put on some music, too. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Hank hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Sorry.” He noticed Cat watching him with interest, but she didn’t ask about the call. He tried not to speculate about her thoughts, which were as unpredictable as mountain weather. Reaching across his chest, he rubbed a knot out of his left shoulder. “So, do you want me to draw up some plans?”
“Yes, thanks.” Cat tilted her head, provocatively raising a single brow. She approached him and touched his shoulder. The single touch sparked a pleasant prickling down the length of his arm, making him almost willing to sell his soul to keep her hands on his body. “A good massage will get rid of that tension.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He crossed his arms again, this time to keep himself from wrapping them around her. “Never been pampered.”
“Well,” she began, “you’ve missed out on one of life’s great pleasures.”
“I’ll survive. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. If you want me to draw up a plan, I need a tape measure.” He reached into his pocket for a pad and pencil, but came up empty. “And a pencil and some paper, too.”
When she returned with the items, he began taking notes. Within minutes, his mind formed a myriad of thoughts about potential design details. They had to be perfect because she’d be reminded of him each time she looked at them. That recognition altered his breathing.
Whatever he created would live here in her bedroom—a place he’d have enjoyed spending time in, too, under other circumstances. Now he envied the damned furniture. Hell, if this woman didn’t make him lose his mind.
“It’d be helpful if you’d send me an inventory of all your stuff.” He chuckled when her eyes widened with surprise. “It’ll help me plan the interior better. Otherwise, I’ll be guessing at what you need mos
t—shelves, rods, drawers, and so on. The more accurate you are in the beginning, the more satisfied you’ll be in the end.”
“I like to be satisfied.” She purred her words, which affected him exactly as he suspected she intended. Maybe someday he’d figure out why she enjoyed teasing him, but he didn’t have time this afternoon.
“I’ll bet you do, Cat,” he uttered. It was all he could muster. Thirty minutes of sensory overload had scrambled his brain. “Here’s my e-mail address. I’ll do my best to get something turned around quickly. Maybe Jackson knows someone who can do the work.”
“Don’t worry.” Cat shuttered her expression. “I’ll call him.”
“All right,” he said. Her odd tone caught his attention, but he didn’t comment. “I’ve got to go.”
She led him back to her front door and unbolted all the locks. “Mustn’t keep Jenny waiting.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d say she sounded jealous. But Cat had never expressed any interest in him unless she’d been drinking. Clearly spending too much time alone with her made him delusional.
“Bye.” He hurried down the hallway and jogged to his car.
Halfway into his drive home, Jackson called.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
“I just hung up with Cat.” Jackson’s clipped tone surprised Hank.
“Oh? Do you know anyone who can help her out?”
“Yeah. You.”
“Me?” Hell no. He didn’t need to add self-torment to his already complicated life. “Not me, Jackson. You know I’m too busy.”
“I know it’s inconvenient, but I need you to do this for me.”
“Why?” Hank flashed back to the odd tone in Cat’s voice when she’d mentioned calling Jackson. A hot streak of irritation rushed through him like a runaway train. Not that he should be surprised that she was used to getting her way. “I’ll design it, but someone else can build it.”
“It can’t be anyone else,” Jackson said. “She doesn’t trust strangers in her house.”