by Jamie Beck
“Exactly why you deserve an easy, uncomplicated relationship. You are such a good man. Whatever happens in the future, know that no one has ever meant as much, or given me as much peace and comfort, as you have. I can never repay that.” When she saw his face twist with frustration, she brushed his jaw with her fingers. “It’s been an emotional morning. Can we end this discussion for now? We’ve got the show in two days. Let’s get through that first, okay?”
Relenting, he sighed. “Speaking of which, I should probably head back up to Connecticut. Lots to do before I pack up the truck and hit the road. You’re getting off easy by flying.”
“Sorry, but I need to be there early to meet with the exhibition installation group I hired. By the time you arrive, I’ll have everything settled. We’ll be able to get a decent night’s sleep before the show.”
“Sleep?” He kissed her neck. “I can think of better ways to pass the time in a nice hotel room.”
“Actually, so can I.”
He slipped his fingers through her hair while his eyes drank in every aspect of her face. She felt him trace her collarbone then his hand wrapped around her nape while he gently pulled her into a kiss. “It’s a date.”
He eased away, but Cat caught his arm. “Thank you for today . . . with Justin, and everything you just said. Your feelings matter to me more than you know. It may not seem like it, but I really am trying to protect both of us from getting hurt.”
“I don’t need protection, Cat. I need you.” He kissed her one last time. “I’m patient, but even I won’t wait forever.”
Mom,
The trade show is tomorrow. Are you proud of me? I haven’t seen Dad, although he’s called me a few times with lots of unsolicited advice about my plans. I know, I know . . . he means well.
So much on the line: my reputation, Hank’s financial stability . . . my heart. Of course, that last part has nothing to do with the show. Hank’s not the only one who’s sick of the limbo. I’ve made a decision. I’m going to tell him everything once we return from Chicago.
Wish me luck.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hank wrapped a towel around Cat as they stepped out of the hotel shower, pulling her against his body for another kiss. Best. Damned. Morning. Waking up wrapped around her body ranked as the number-one morning of his adult life, even if it was only five thirty a.m. and the sun hadn’t risen.
An auspicious start to an important day.
“Too bad this morning has to end so soon,” she murmured in his ear.
Since he’d arrived in Chicago, she’d been anxious—and intense. Physically, she’d barely let go of him—which he liked—but he’d also caught glimpses of sorrow or regret, maybe even fear, in her eyes. At first he’d assumed the show had her keyed up, but instinct told him otherwise.
Of course, there had been a tiny brouhaha when a picture of him holding Justin on the pavement showed up on Instagram later that day. Some people had made nasty comments suggesting she liked violent men, which hadn’t been flattering to either her or him. But if anything, most people had seemed sympathetic.
Cat had issued one brief statement about putting it behind her and focusing on her new venture. Within twenty-four hours the frenzy had died down, so he doubted the incident would hurt Cat’s and his business.
Her hands swept across his back and over his hips, making him get hard for the millionth time since he’d arrived last night. When she pinched his ass, he bit her earlobe. “We should get going.”
“I know.” Cat kissed his neck while her hand clamped around his hard-on. “Can’t seem to help myself. Up for a quickie?”
The towel fell away and her nipples tightened against his chest, sending another surge of desire through him. In no time, he lifted her and carried her into the bedroom, teasing. “Probably a good idea for us to release a little tension before our big day.”
He crawled on top of her and thrust inside her body in one swift motion, foreplay unnecessary in the heat of the moment. He buried himself completely, staying deep while kissing her and undulating his hips ever so slightly. Nothing was more beautiful than the sight of her heated face and swollen lips. Mine.
Had what he’d said the other day made a difference, made her consider opening up? He needed her to trust him . . . trust in them.
“Hank,” she moaned, rocking her hips. Her eyelids drifted closed as she arched her back.
He took one breast into his mouth, and his pace steadily increased while he teased her with his tongue.
“Hank,” she panted. “God, yes. Faster . . . faster, please.”
He answered her siren call by slamming himself inside her until she cried out and her muscles clamped around him, milking every last drop of strength from his body.
Once his heart rate slowed, he propped up on his elbows and kissed her. Heaven. Funny he could be so optimistic about the future despite the fact he was broke, lived with his mother, and had no plan B. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to worry or plan or be cautious. He wanted to live in the moment.
He wished they could stay here in bed indefinitely, but the clock was ticking and the doors opened to the public in several hours. “Okay, now we really have to go.”
“I know.” She grimaced.
Hank traced his finger from her forehead to the tip of her nose then kissed her quickly. “Get dressed.”
Then his phone buzzed. “Jenny, you’re calling pretty early. Everything okay?”
“Helen had to cancel today and Meg is working. I guess I’m going to have to miss class today, unless you know someone else to call.”
“There isn’t anyone else.” He’d never needed other backup because he’d always been there to take care of any problem. He could hear Jenny’s anxiety, but at twenty, she should be more than capable of handling their mom for one day. Hell, he’d started taking on grown-up responsibilities at seventeen. “Keep her comfortable. Play music she likes, maybe read to her from one of those magazines. If you’re nervous about her choking, feed her yogurt and Ensure. Will Helen be there tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. She’s sick.”
Dammit. No one would accuse Hank of being superstitious, yet Helen’s sudden illness seemed like a bad omen.
“I’ll be home in two days. Hang in there.”
“But Mom’s really fussy again. And today her eyes look weird, like they’re sunken in.”
“I know she’s been more irritable and sleepless lately, but I think it’s just the disease progressing. If you’re really worried, see if Meg can come over to check on her later.”
“Okay.” Jenny paused. “Good luck today, Hank.”
Hank tossed his phone on the bed and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He couldn’t afford to divide his focus. Schmoozing potential customers would require his full attention today.
“You look upset.” Cat tied the belt of her wrap dress. Even in casual clothing, she was breathtakingly pretty.
“Jenny’s on her own with my mom all day. She’s nervous, but it should be okay as long as my mom doesn’t fall or something.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. Try to put it out of your mind because we need to concentrate on this show.”
“About that.” He hesitated, knowing his next words might freak her out. He should’ve brought this up before now, but it seemed like the world had conspired to keep him quiet. “What would you say to making a last-minute change?”
“Tell me you’re joking.” Cat’s hands stilled. “Not joking?”
“Every time I meant to talk about this, we got sidetracked by other issues, most recently Justin. I wanted to keep you happy and decided I’d just do it your way and see how it went. But on my drive up I had a lot of quiet time to think, and now I’m convinced I need to say how I feel before we actually go out there today.”
She flicked one hand out in question. “And?”
“The thing I love most about building furniture is the artistry. Approaching each piece and maki
ng it unique. Letting the wood grains inspire me and dictate the shape and form of the furniture. I want to be free to make any design that comes to me, not have to replicate a handful of pieces over and over.” When her forehead creased, he added, “Besides, you said your friend’s privately commissioned table sold for top dollar. Custom design, one-of-a-kind pieces will give us a bigger profit margin and make the brand more distinctive—make it synonymous with individuality.”
“And limit our customer base.” She chewed her lip. “No inns, offices, retailers.”
Hank shrugged. “Let’s establish ourselves as the ‘Armani’ of furniture first, and then you can figure out how to mass produce knockoffs and sell those to hotels and offices and whomever else you please.”
Cat sighed, her expression pinched with concern. “This completely changes our business model. Now these pamphlets depicting the lines and prices aren’t accurate, Hank. I don’t think we can use them.”
“I’m sorry, but better we begin as we mean to go on. We’ve got business cards. We’ll spend the next two days touting the benefits of having a ‘Mitchell/St. James original.’ Sell it like artwork instead of furniture. The website is less than a week old, so we can make modifications there without much notice.”
She nodded, although she didn’t look convinced. “I wish you’d have spoken up sooner. You’ve blindsided me and now I’m going in unprepared. I’d kind of mastered the basics of what I thought was our plan. Now that’s meaningless. So you’d better be prepared to do most of the talking today, because I don’t know how to describe the nuts and bolts of what you do. And without brochures to hand visitors, are you up to the task? We can’t appear unprofessional.”
“Are you kidding? I’m excited to discuss my work . . . to discuss my ‘vision,’ as you say. Don’t worry, people will remember us.”
She folded her arms, looking out the window over the city. Finally she huffed a short breath and shrugged.
“It’s not ideal, but you need to be happy with your work. We don’t have time to debate the issue now, so there’s nothing else to say.” She worried her lip, brows drawn. “Promoting it like art instead of furniture is a good angle.”
He grabbed her and kissed her. “I promise I’ll never pull something like this again, okay?”
“Get dressed.” She smoothed her hair. “We have to get to the Merchandise Mart and make sure everything else is perfect before the doors open to the public.”
Cat’s stomach burned. Foot traffic in the neighboring showrooms exceeded that in theirs. Of course, those other rooms housed established furniture lines like Baker and Marge Carson. Companies with more history, products, details, and thick brochures!
Although she’d never been uncomfortable strutting on any stage, today she felt like a poser. She was a poser. Her and Hank’s lack of experience showed. She’d rushed ahead and gotten them in over their heads, just as David and Jackson predicted.
The sales pitch she’d practiced and promoted no longer applied, which left her a little tongue-tied and left designers empty-handed when they wandered off to the next installation.
Of course, Hank’s sexy mix of laid-back charm and passion excited a few designers who spoke with him at length. Still, she couldn’t tell whether or not anything would come of the money or effort she’d put into this show.
“You might want to smile if you hope to draw people in,” Hank teased.
She must’ve been scowling when the only visitors in their exhibition room exited.
“I’m upset.”
“Why? So far the people I’ve spoken with seem genuinely interested in my work. I feel great!”
“I can only hope you’re making a big enough impression that they will remember you after visiting one hundred other showrooms, because we’ve got nothing to hand them when they leave. Those brochures cost twenty-four hundred dollars . . .” She rubbed the creases between her eyebrows with her thumb. “How are you estimating pricing on customized furniture? Granted, your things look beautiful and attract interest, but who knows if any of it will convert to a single sale?”
She’d poured so much of herself and her hopes into this little company, she didn’t know what she’d do if they went home empty-handed. Worse, she’d be on the receiving end of told-you-so looks from her family, her agent, and Hank’s sisters.
“I’ll repay you for the brochures.” Hank looked chastened, which wasn’t what she’d intended. Crap, not even “the model” could wear anxiety well.
“It’s not the money, Hank. It’s the lack of professionalism that makes me uncomfortable. I never went to a shoot or a show unprepared. Everything was perfect—at least, everything within my control. Winging it is extremely awkward.”
“I know you’re upset, and I know this show is important.” Hank rubbed her upper arms. “But this is a first show. I doubt anyone expects us to be as polished as companies that have been around for years. Let’s keep that perspective and try to have a little fun. Other people will be turned off if we’re uptight. It’s a win if we really impress a handful of people this weekend, so don’t worry if we don’t excite a thousand. Everything will be okay.”
“It’s easier for you to say that when you’re relatively anonymous.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “I’ve got a brand to protect. My name and reputation on the line.”
“We’ve both got a lot at stake, Cat.” Thankfully his phone buzzed, because Cat didn’t like his perturbed tone, or the reminder that his family’s finances were on the line. “Jenny?”
Silence.
“Aw, dammit.” Hank grimaced before pressing his hand against his forehead. “Take a breath and slow down.”
Cat could hear Jenny’s wail from two feet away.
“Dehydrated? How’d that happen?”
Cat bit her lip and stared at his pained expression. It sounded like something happened to his mother—something dire. She reached for him, but he shrugged away, intent on calming Jenny. “In an ambulance?” Hank winced at whatever Jenny said next. “Please stop crying, Jenny. It’s not your fault. I’ll get home as soon as possible. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
He’ll what?
He slipped his phone in his breast pocket and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Cat, I’ve got to go. I thought my mom’s disease was just getting worse recently, but in fact we were seeing the side effects of serious dehydration. Dammit, how could I have missed it?” He raked his fingers through his hair.
“I’m so sorry, Hank.” When she hugged him, his tension vibrated throughout her body. “Is Meg with her? Does she think you need to come home?”
“I didn’t talk to Meg. She was in the ambulance with the EMTs. Jenny was following in Meg’s car.”
“Well, there you go. That’s perfect. Meg’s a nurse. She’ll make sure your mom gets all the right care from the best doctors. Take a breath and try to calm yourself.”
“Calm down? This is my fault! I’ve been so busy with you, I neglected my own mother. I missed the signs.” Hank started searching for new flights on his phone.
Cat counted to ten in her head and tried to think of some way to relieve his guilt. In a quiet voice, she said, “Jenny and Helen were also with your mom every day these past weeks and neither of them realized what was happening, so don’t shoulder all the blame. You aren’t responsible for every single thing that happens to your family. You always do your best. It isn’t a crime to take some time for yourself after all these years. Please don’t feel guilty about that, Hank.”
He barely glanced up. “I know you’re trying to help, but I just need to get home.”
“What you need is to slow down for a second. What can you actually do to help if you return? As difficult as it may seem, I think you should stay and finish the show. Let your sisters care for your mom for two days.”
“Cat, my family needs me.”
“Actually, Jenny and your mom need this venture to succeed, so you’d be serving their needs better by staying.” When he didn’t appear
persuaded, she pleaded, “I need you, too. Our business needs you. You changed the business model at the last minute, so now you’re the only one of us who can engage in a meaningful discussion about the furniture. I don’t know about construction, wood grains, time frames, or any of that, so please don’t walk out in the middle of the show. Besides, you drove all your stuff here. If you take it, there won’t even be anything to exhibit.”
Hank paced for a few seconds, apparently overwhelmed and looking for solutions.
“I’ll catch a flight home this afternoon, see my mom tonight, and then fly back tomorrow afternoon to get everything.” He strode off and turned the “Be Back Soon” sign over before closing the glass doors to their exhibit room. “Let’s take a fifteen-minute break so I can fill you in on some basics in terms of timing to build these kinds of pieces, and ballpark price ranges. Then I’ve got to grab a cab to the airport.”
She scurried behind him, her thoughts unable to keep up with his feet. “Fifteen minutes? You’re the craftsman, Hank. Not me! Please don’t bail on me after everything I’ve done to pull this together. Give your sisters the chance to prove they can handle your mom without you.”
His eyes widened. “Did you miss the part where I said my mom was being taken to the hospital?”
“No, Hank, I did not. Did you forget that your sister is the nurse, not you? If you’re being honest, rushing to Connecticut is more about your guilt than your mom’s needs.”
He scowled, apparently more dismayed than angry. “I want to be there for my mother. I give her peace, even if it’s only because she confuses me with my father. When she’s in crisis, I will be there. That’s what I do for the people I love . . . for my family.”
“I thought I mattered to you, too. That all of this mattered?” Cat threw her hands upward. “Is all of this nothing more than a whim?”
“It’s not a whim, and you know it. The timing sucks, but you can’t plan for emergencies. People will understand if you explain what happened. The designs speak for themselves. Don’t make this worse than it is. Can’t you see I’m torn enough without additional guilt from you?”