“It’s all right, Kitten. I’m not trying to pry. Whatever is in your past, whoever scares the hell out of you, can stay there. I didn’t mean to bring up ghosts with my teasing.”
Who acted like him? She’d never met anyone like him in her life and she’d been around nothing but men. No one looked at her like that, or spoke in that voice. They weren’t kind. Or caring. They always had an agenda. If they were nice to her, it was to curry favor with their boss. If they weren’t, it was because they were afraid if they were nice, their boss wouldn’t like it much.
She attempted a weak smile. He had to think she was a basket case. The thing was, she was only a crazy person around him. The rest of the time, her rules were in place and she led a happy, disciplined life.
“Tell me you’re all right. If you’re not, we’ll talk about this. And you clearly don’t make sense when you wake up.”
The affection in his voice would have been her undoing, but he’d managed to annoy her again. “I make perfect sense. And I don’t wake up grumpy.”
He grinned at her. “I’ve got tools in the truck. I’ll get them. You can sit around, drink your coffee and admire the fact that I really do make perfect sense when I wake up. And I’m not grumpy.”
She glared at him. “Do you remember what I said about kicking you in the thigh and rolling you right out of here? The idea is looking better and better.”
“One little problem, Cat,” he said, and leaned into her.
He smelled as good as ever. Like outdoor, rain forest, jungle after the first rain. She inhaled because she had to, she’d run out of air. She drew his scent deep into her lungs. He surrounded her with heat. Up close he looked even more handsome than she’d first thought. He had a five-o’clock shadow, dark scruff she couldn’t help but find sexy. His dark hair was in contrast with his strange but beautiful eyes. He had three scars, one by his left eye, one higher up by his temple and a longer one along his jaw. Even those scars didn’t detract from his good looks and instead only added to them.
She refused to back away. “What would that be?”
“My hands aren’t full,” he said, and threaded his fingers through her hair, a soft glide that ran all the way from the top of her head to the ends at her waist before his fingers fell away. “The coffee I can get rid of in seconds and then you’d be in trouble.”
Her stomach did a roller coaster loop just as a million birds took wing, fluttering against her insides when his fingers moved through her hair. He had done it almost absently and he didn’t call attention to doing it, but it felt sexy and sweet at the same time.
“And, if you did succeed in dragging me out, I wouldn’t be able to install your security system.” He flashed a grin at her.
He was dangerous to all women, but apparently to her in particular. Just looking at him turned her insides to mush. He melted her without trying, just by giving her a quick smile. Not even a high-wattage, just-for-her smile, just a casual one that showed his white teeth. And then there was his cocky, arrogant grin. She could weave tons of fantasy and perv around him for a good solid week with just one of his grins.
“Fine, I won’t try to take you down before you finish the security system.”
“I’m getting the tools out of my truck, so I’ll be leaving the door open for a minute or two. Wouldn’t want to have to lean on that buzzer.”
“I’m already tempted to use that thing for target practice,” she admitted, but the coffee was doing its job, putting her in a better mood. Still, she needed clothes. Her tank wasn’t covering much and as soon as he was outside, she was rushing to change.
She dragged old faded jeans from the drawers in her bedroom, underwear and a soft T-shirt and raced for the bathroom. She managed to close and lock the door before she heard the heavy front door swing shut. She did a quick once-over, teeth, hair, face, and dragged on her clothes. She rarely wore shoes inside. Mostly she just wore her sweats so she could work out whenever she felt like it.
Catarina loved her days off. She could be herself. She didn’t have to be on her guard every moment. She didn’t need to expend energy keeping her eyes on the floor and hiding behind baggy clothes and dark sunglasses. She read – a lot – listened to her music and spent hours punching and kicking the bag. She stretched and ate ice cream. She stretched more and drank coffee. She was free, and she enjoyed freedom.
“Need some help, Cat,” Ridley said as she emerged.
He was up on a ladder. A really tall ladder. He had no problems invading Malcom’s corner and confiscating anything he needed. Or maybe he’d brought the monstrosity. Either way, he was on nearly the very top rung and his hands were over his head, fiddling with a black mount.
“What do you need me to do?”