Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  While discussing the installation of the final touches in the kitchen, he noticed dark circles beneath Jackson’s eyes. “Jackson, you look like shit. You need some sleep.”

  “I’m fine.” Jackson rubbed his right hand over one side of his face. “You’re one to talk, anyway. When’s the last time you got enough sleep?”

  “That’s different. I’m on call twenty-four seven, but at least when I do sleep, I’m sober.” He rested his hands on his hips and kept his gaze on Jackson.

  “Don’t start again.” Jackson raised his hand to stop Hank’s lecture. “You never complained when you were hanging out as my wingman. Now I can’t remember the last time we went out for a beer.”

  “It’s been a while,” Hank admitted. “But I’m not interested in drinking or chasing skirt. My mom’s health has been in a free fall the past six months. It’s getting more risky to leave Jenny in charge.”

  “Sorry, buddy. The situation with your mom sucks, but all the more reason you need a woman to help take the edge off.” Jackson flashed a devilish smile. “Come on. Come out with me this weekend.”

  “I’ve got plans this weekend.” Hank tilted his head. “Have to start working on your sister’s project.”

  “I wish I hadn’t needed that favor, but I worry about her. You get that—right—you’ve got sisters. Still, thanks for helping. I owe you big time.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” When he recalled how Cat had looked at him in his garage, he couldn’t stop a grin from forming. “More than fine.”

  That last comment slipped out before Hank remembered Jackson wasn’t just a friend, he was also Cat’s brother.

  “Oh?” Jackson’s newly alert eyes bored into Hank’s. “Are you interested in my sister?”

  “Is that really a surprise?” Hank’s neck grew hot.

  “You’d think after David fell for Vivi, nothing could surprise me. Seems I was wrong.” Jackson rubbed his chin, offering no particular encouragement.

  “You think I’m not good enough for her?” If Jackson objected, it would crush him.

  “Hell, Hank, you’re the best guy I know. She couldn’t do better.” Jackson crossed his arms in front of his chest and sighed. “That, however, might be the problem. How can I put this? Her past boyfriends all took as long as she does to get dressed, and spent a lot of money jetting her to exciting places—you know, assholes like Justin.”

  “Maybe she’s learned her lesson.”

  “Maybe, but are you two compatible? Her life’s full of pseudo-friends and parties, and all that Instagram and Twitter bullshit. I can’t picture her hanging out with you in Norwalk every weekend.”

  “You’re talking about her like she’s shallow.”

  “No, she’s not shallow. She’s got a big heart, even though she hides it from most people.” Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck it. What the hell do I know? If she’s interested, then take her at her word.”

  “I never said she was interested.” Hank’s muscles tightened in defense of the onslaught of unwelcome, if well-intentioned, advice.

  Jackson grinned. “Oh boy, I’ve been down this road with friends before—many times. Shit, Hank, something tells me you’re heading for trouble.” Jackson chuckled. “I’ve got no advice for you, either. She’s my sister and I love her to death, but she’s no cakewalk. Cat’s like a hedgehog, you need to handle her the right way or she’s damn prickly.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Chances are nothing will come of it anyway.”

  “Stranger things have happened. Look at David.” Jackson slapped Hank’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got places to be.”

  When Hank finally arrived at Cat’s on Monday after a hellish commute to Manhattan, he double-parked to quickly unload his truck, leaving Cat’s doorman to guard his supplies while he went to find parking. Once he returned, he loaded the tools and planks of wood onto a dolly, which he rolled into the service elevator. He parked the squeaky cart at her door and knocked.

  No answer. He knocked again and listened for footsteps. Still no answer.

  What the hell? He checked his watch. Eight o’clock. She’d known he was coming today.

  Behind him, Esther opened her door. “When I heard someone in the hall, I looked through my peephole. What a nice surprise to find you outside my door.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Morganstein.” He smiled at her blatant perusal of his person. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Catalina is, would you?”

  “She usually runs in the morning, but I’m sure she’ll be right back if she knows you’re coming. She’s very excited for you to begin.”

  “Desperate for storage space.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s the only reason she’s in a good mood lately.” Esther winked.

  Another matchmaker in the mix. Could everyone be conspiring?

  Before he could respond, Cat strode off the elevator, humming whatever song was playing on her iPhone.

  Short, black spandex shorts and a neon-pink jog bra barely covered her body. A thick white headband kept her hair off her face. The rest of her silky hair was pulled high into a ponytail.

  She saw them and waved cheerily, oblivious to his frustration and, admittedly, fascination. Her skin gleamed with sweat and he could see the muscles in her legs and abs contract as she moved toward him.

  Hot damn. Temptation weighed heavily.

  “Good morning!” She smiled as she pulled the earbuds from her ears. “I didn’t realize you’d be here this early. Hi, Esther. Do you need something?”

  “No, dear. I’m just keeping this handsome young man company. I’ll leave you to it, now.” She smiled and closed the door.

  “She wants you baaad!” Cat giggled while unlocking the various dead bolts. Hank couldn’t stop staring at her tight ass. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” Hank followed behind her, pulling the dolly into her entry and then closing the door. He focused on the task at hand in order to avoid slamming her against the wall and peeling off those wet clothes. “I’ll be getting here early each day, so we should work something out if you won’t be here to let me in.”

  “Okay. Maybe I should get you a key?” She looked at the pile of wood and clasped her hands together, oblivious to the fact she had him hot and bothered without even trying. “I can’t wait for you to get started.”

  Hank pulled the dolly toward her bedroom, which she’d emptied in preparation for his arrival.

  “I’ll cover the vents to cut down on sawdust traveling throughout the condo.”

  “Okay, thanks. Now I really need to shower.” She winked at him and strode into the master bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  Hank stared at the door, imagining her stripping out of those skimpy clothes, wishing he actually did have the X-ray vision she’d teased him about last week.

  What would she do if he slipped into the shower and helped her wash those hard-to-reach places? Hell, he’d just managed to give himself one of his bigger hard-ons. Shaking his head in frustration, he unloaded the dolly and took it back down to the lobby.

  When he returned, he nearly bumped into her as she came out of her room wearing nothing more than a towel. The sight and scent of her nearly naked body almost knocked him flat on his ass.

  “You’re blushing, Hank.” Cat stood still, her long hair hanging heavy and wet down her back.

  Either his imagination was working overtime, or she was planning to get him so turned on he’d agree to anything, including her business proposal. He didn’t know which made him more irritated, her plan or the fact that it could work.

  “As I’m sure you intended.” Two could play her game. Her goal might have been only business, but his was personal. He brushed his finger along the length of her arm until she trembled. “You’re shivering,” he whispered in her ear, lingering there for a moment without saying more. Then he pulled back. “Go get dressed and let me get to work.”

  She stared at his mouth before disappearing into the guest ro
om. Hank smiled and then shackled his strong urge to chase her down and toss her on the bed. Mutual lust was a weak substitute for what he really wanted, and what he wanted was probably as far-fetched as her business plans.

  Deep down he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d only get close enough to get his heart ripped out.

  Get to work.

  By noon, Cat had popped in at least four times to check on him. She’d offered him something to eat or drink, asked if it was too hot or too cold for him, and even commented on his musical taste.

  Her minidress covered no more than the damned towel, and she made sure to come close and bend and twist right near his body. Each interruption cost him at least ten minutes in daydreams before he could refocus. So it didn’t surprise him at all when she came through the door again.

  “Lunch break?” She leaned against the doorjamb.

  “Already?” Hank surveyed how little he’d accomplished that morning.

  “Come on.” Her knee swung side to side while she spoke. “I have some surprises for you.”

  More mouthwatering than an icy beer on a sweltering day.

  “Okay, I’ll take a quick break.” Hank set his hand plane down and grabbed his lunch bag.

  “You won’t need that. I have something better.” She summoned him with her pointer finger and wicked grin. “Follow me.”

  Like a lemming, he trailed after her, trying and failing to tamp down his anticipation of her next ploy. A tangy aroma wafted down the hallway as he drew nearer to the kitchen. Barbeque? Cat stood by a kitchen chair and gestured toward the pile of ribs in the center of the table. “Voilà!”

  “My favorite,” he uttered with surprise then looked at her. “How’d you know?”

  “You mentioned it last summer.”

  “Did I?” And she remembered? That had to mean something. He noticed coleslaw, corn bread, and a cold beer on the table. “Cat, this is really thoughtful. I didn’t know you cooked.”

  “I don’t cook!” She laughed. “But I’m a real whiz with takeout. Now sit.”

  She went to the sink and returned to the table with a glass of water.

  “Guess you’re not going to help me eat this Fred Flintstone–size portion of ribs?” He plucked a few off the pile and put them on his plate.

  “I’m meeting Vivi for a late lunch, but trust me, passing on those ribs is not a sacrifice.” She shook her head and drank her water. “Now, if your favorite food were chocolate mousse cake, then I’d be tempted.”

  “Duly noted.” He wasted no time digging into lunch. As he licked his fingers, he asked, “Why all this, Cat?”

  “Because you’re always taking care of others.” She dipped her forefinger into a dollop of extra barbeque sauce and tasted it with a slow lick. Oh, yeah. He wanted some of that. He eyed the barbeque sauce and quickly thought up a few creative uses. She dipped her finger in the sauce again. “I thought you should know how it feels to have someone look after you.”

  Dazed, he had to drag his gaze away from the finger in her mouth and take an extra few seconds to process her response. “It feels really good.”

  His remark earned him a gigantic smile, which flipped his heart over a time or two. Hell and damnation, Jackson was right. He was in trouble.

  He ate quickly so he could get back to work.

  “This was a real treat. Thanks. But honestly, don’t put yourself out on my account.” He tossed the bones in the garbage and rinsed his plate. “I should get back to work.”

  “Hold on. I have one more thing to show you. Can you sit for five more minutes?”

  He did as he was asked while she pulled a sheet of paper from her fancy purse. She laid it in front of him and asked, “What do you think of this name?”

  A walnut-brown rectangle read: “Mitchell/St. James, handcrafted fine furnishings,” written in a modern, golden-yellow font.

  He stared at her, unsure how to respond.

  She eyed the paper again. “Once you promised to consider this, I got a burst of creative energy. All weekend I kept thinking of a name to convey upscale, unique furniture while also taking advantage of whatever cache my ‘name brand’ lends. But it didn’t seem right to focus solely on my name because you’re the designer. Then it hit me . . . our names work nicely together, and as the talent, you get top billing.”

  Her excited smile wormed its way inside his chest. The slightest encouragement from him had prompted that joy and confidence. How could he snatch it away now?

  “They sure do.” Seeing their names blended together brought to life a bunch of other unrealistic fantasies.

  “That’s not all. Once this brand becomes very chichi, we could expand to mass manufacturing knockoffs. We could call that line ‘CT Chic’ to capitalize on the whole New England thing people love. At that point, the revenue potential would grow significantly.”

  “Wow. You’re jumping way ahead.” Her contagious enthusiasm hooked him a little, but hers were huge dreams, and none of them addressed the risks. “There are still a whole lot of questions to answer before this idea gets off the ground.”

  She withdrew the paper and shot him a disappointed scowl before smacking him with a sarcastic, “No kidding.”

  “I’m not belittling you, but these ideas sound expensive. And I’m only one guy. There’s a limit to what I can produce, which I can’t imagine can actually support you, me, and my family.”

  “All of that can be worked out. Maybe I just take enough to cover my costs in the beginning or something, or offer internships to apprentices or whatever to help you work. Meanwhile, I could start to spread the word among my close friends, with the goal of growing a wealthy clientele—maybe even approach some upscale boutique inns and retail clients who want a specialty display table or armoires or something.” Cat looked triumphant. “We’d keep prices high by being selective at first. Create buzz and mystique, then once we’d established a reputation and an amazing portfolio, then we’d launch the affordable furniture line.”

  “You don’t lack ambition.” He chuckled before turning sober. “Your confidence is contagious, but the devil is in the details. Can I do this without risking my family’s stability? They count on my paycheck, and I sure don’t have any money to invest. If I were on my own, I’d be all-in in a heartbeat. But I don’t see how this works for me right now.”

  Cat leaned forward, undaunted. “In just ten years, Kathy Ireland expanded her brand from a line of socks to a multiline empire that grosses two billion in sales annually. If she can do that, surely we can build this idea into a business that generates enough income to comfortably support us both.”

  “She’s clearly the exception, though, not the rule.” Hank rubbed his jaw. “Didn’t you hear me tell you I’ve got about a twenty-item cap on what I can build in a year?”

  Her smart-ass expression—similar to a look his sister Meg often shot him—warned him he was about to be corrected.

  “I read a series of in-depth articles about two guys who did exactly what I’m proposing. Something Chang . . . Hellman. Hellman-Chang. One guy handled marketing; the other started building tables after work and on weekends. In just a couple of years, they’ve got an eight-thousand-square-foot facility and other artisans to help them churn out handmade furniture for small hotels and stuff.” She sank back in her chair. “Besides, you said you’d keep an open mind.”

  “An open mind doesn’t mean I’ll close my eyes to the risks. Maybe you can’t appreciate that because you’ve only got yourself to worry about. Actually, have you even thought about how your brother will feel if I walk out on him to join forces with you?”

  “Jackson will be pissed for a while, but he’ll replace you and life will go on. Trust me, our dad made sure we all understood the way of the world. I can’t tell you how often he repeated ‘no one owes you anything. You’ve got to work for what you want and make it happen.’ So, I promise, Jackson will understand and forgive us both for chasing our dreams.”

  When Hank didn’t respond immediat
ely, she continued. “Unless this isn’t your dream? Maybe I misread you?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “So what’s the problem? I’d think you’d be more excited. Don’t you believe in your work? Or are you afraid to fail?”

  “I can’t afford to fail because it would hurt the people I love.”

  She pressed her lips together, clearly disturbed.

  “You mustn’t have meant anything you said about me in your garage, because if you did, then you wouldn’t be convinced we’d fail.” The hurt in her eyes about killed him. She stood abruptly and set her glass in the sink, ready to bolt from the kitchen. “You probably thought you were being nice, but I wish you would’ve just been honest, like everyone else who thinks I can’t do anything other than pose for the camera.”

  He clutched her arm to stop her. “That’s not what I think. All I’m saying is we’re in completely different situations and this huge undertaking has tons of complications and risks.”

  Like every time they touched, a shock of energy zipped through his limbs. She must’ve been struck, too, because her breath caught.

  Collecting herself, she issued a challenge. “Maybe you should stop thinking about the risks and focus on the opportunities.”

  She dragged her gaze from his mouth to his eyes and held it there, linking him in her intensifying energy.

  Before it ebbed, he hauled her closer to deliver his own dare. “I could say the same thing to you about relationships, Cat.”

  Her pupils dilated, and she tried to shrink from his grasp. Not this time. Cupping the back of her neck, he bent down to nibble on her bottom lip before drawing her into a soft kiss.

  He deepened the kiss to stoke the flames of whatever might be developing between them, savoring the thrum reverberating throughout his body, the thud of her heartbeat against her chest, the urgent mewl in her throat as their tongues intensified their probing exploration.

  Cradling her face with his hands, he pressed himself against her until he pinned her against the counter. She moaned into his mouth, but then pushed him away.