Читать книгу Slow Burn: Seducing Mr. Right / Take Me - Cherry Adair - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

THIS ENTIRE SITUATION was untenable, Luke swore. How was he going to hide how he felt about Cat?

From her?

From Nick?

From himself?

He’d done it before with some success. But her power was stronger now. He felt himself sailing directly into the Bermuda Triangle at warp speed.

Luke carried her into the dark bedroom, settled her on the bed and heard the front door close behind his ex-best friend.

He pulled off her shoes and tugged the comforter over her, then left the room and stalked back into the kitchen, where he poured a mug of brandy-laced coffee. Morosely, he sat at his small kitchen table and stared at the oil slick on top of the black liquid before reaching for his PalmPilot. The handheld computer was the nineties version of the little black book.

A. Paul Abbott. Brian Andrews.

Luke transferred names into another file labeled PARTY with all the enthusiasm of a man anticipating a train wreck. Robert Kingston. Cy Kronin...Luke paused. The guy had shifty eyes. Really shifty eyes. He deleted Cy’s name. Steve Manfield. Good guy. Quiet. A possible. Bob Nelson? Owned his own company. Had a couple of dogs. A full set of parents...

Luke’s folks had been divorced about three years, and he had lived with his mother when Cat and Faith had moved in with his father. He’d disliked both females at first sight. Cat had been tall for her age, with enough wild red hair to cover a small horse, and wall-to-wall freckles. She’d looked sweet, and sad, and a whole lot of trouble. And worst of all, his father had adored her, and Nick thought she was a little doll. His for the taking.

Luke took a swig out of his mug, ashamed as the flood of memories spotlighted his own less than sterling behavior.

Okay, face it. I was jealous as hell back then. He’d been secretly thrilled when, a year later, his father had informed him of his impending divorce. Good, Luke had thought with satisfaction. He’d never warmed to Cat’s mother, Faith. The irony of her name was not lost on anyone.

There was only one little glitch to Luke’s joy at her departure. She’d left behind The Kid.

What kind of mother left a seven-year-old girl with her ex-husband? His father had been delighted. He’d doted on Cat, included her in everything he did. Luke hadn’t wanted a sister. He sure hadn’t wanted her. And he’d told her so in no uncertain terms. On numerous occasions. With all the arrogance of youth, and with no consideration for her feelings.

Later, he realized she’d wanted the same things he had—a father, a mother, a family. To be loved. A place to belong.

Luke felt the sting of shame all over again. To be fair, he’d been a kid himself. He’d felt abandoned and shoved aside. He hadn’t, at thirteen, thought or cared about how The Kid felt.

Luke got all the way to the end of his address book. Allan Zukker. Even eliminating those he thought unsuitable for one reason or another, there was still a decent selection. But because the criteria for females wasn’t nearly as stringent as those for males, Luke ended up with an unbalanced list—more women than men. Which suited him just fine, except the party wasn’t for him. It was for Cat.

He pushed the computer away. He’d even out the list later.

Luke buried his head in his hands. He didn’t want the party. He didn’t want to introduce Cat to a man who might not appreciate her, might not treat her right. She’d been hurt enough in her life. Cat needed to be loved. Cherished.

Luke pushed his chair back and strode into his living room. Nope. There were no two ways about it. He’d made his bed. Now he had to lie in it. No matter how damn uncomfortable it was. He tossed a pillow and blanket on the black leather sofa and turned out the light.

Yep, he thought, flinging himself down on his back, fully clothed. He was going to have to bite the bullet and help Cat find the man of her dreams.

Even if it killed him.

* * *

THE PARTY WAS a roaring success. At the moment, E.L.O.’s “Don’t Bring Me Down” was competing with raised voices and the din of heels on bare wood floors. Cat had rolled up the area rugs for dancing.

Earlier they’d gone into a cooking frenzy, each trying to outdo the other. The result was a rather eclectic amalgamation of foods and beverages. Luke’s Mexican salsa, tamales and Chinese egg rolls. Cat’s spaghetti and meatballs and Greek salad. Everyone was having a great old time.

With the exception of the host.

Cat was across the living room putting the finishing touches to the buffet with a huge leafy something in a red ceramic pot. She’d persuaded him to buy half a dozen plants at the store, insisting he lived a sterile existence without living things around him. No matter that Luke knew he’d never remember to water the things.

He remembered the alarming amount of plants scattered around his dad’s house, but had given up without too much of a fuss. Cat was a born nurturer. She needed to be needed, even if by just a few houseplants.

He felt as nervous as a mother bird pushing her chick out of the nest for the first time. Luke watched her without seeming to, and tried to see her as his friends would. With his luck they’d have the immediate hots for her.

At the moment Cat was the center of attention of a pack of chest-puffing, lip-smacking, posturing males. Luke monitored the behavior of his friends with a jaundiced eye. They might as well let her inspect their teeth, check their brokerage statements and call old girlfriends for references.

Mike leaned close to whisper in Cat’s ear. She laughed. The sound rippled just beneath the music. Luke felt it in his gut.

Her looks were addictive, her compelling, innocent sensuality impossible to ignore. God knows, he was trying. Her sassy mouth and sharp wit were destined to drive some lucky guy to the brink of madness. His friends circled her like sharks in a feeding frenzy. He intercepted a lascivious look from Ted, so busy flexing his muscles and trying to hide his receding hairline he didn’t even notice Luke’s warning glower from across the room.

“If you keep glaring like that no one will go near her.” Nick raised his voice to be heard over the music, and handed him a beer. “All they’re doing is talking about the stock market.”

Luke pulled the tab, then took a swig. “Allan had his hand on her ass.” Cat wore perfectly respectable, not-too-tight, black pants and a teal T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing jewelry, and hardly any makeup. And she outshone every woman there.

“And a very sweet ass it is, too,” Nick said. “Chill. The whole point of this soirée is for Catherine to meet people. She’s doing fine. Leave her alone.”

“I need to stick close. She was really nervous about tonight.”

“Nervous about what? Meeting our degenerate friends?”

Luke shrugged, covertly studying the dynamics of the group surrounding her. “I guess.” The guys were salivating as they watched her eat an egg roll. “She didn’t have much of a social life in Beaverton. I told her the city was too fast-paced for her.”

“Ho, boy.” Nick chuckled. “In other words, you challenged her.”

Paul elbowed Mike out. Decent guy, Paul. A good eight inches shorter than Cat. No one held that squint against him.

Luke turned his glare on Nick. “Challenged her? I was trying to protect her.”

Nick took a swig of his beer, eyeing his friend over the can. “By telling an intelligent, attractive woman she’d be out of her depth in the city?”

Across the room Cat did a quick sleight of hand, twisting and piling her hair on top of her head as she talked to Paul and the others by the open balcony door. All that hair around her shoulders must be hot. Still, he’d have to warn her how provocative the pose looked. As her T-shirt pulled across her moving breasts, Rob just about swallowed his tongue.

“She’s not as self-confident as one might think,” Luke muttered, not tasting the beer he chugged. Allan strolled up and formed another wall around Cat. He said something; she smiled, showing pretty white teeth and no desire to drop the hand she held provocatively on top of her head.

Nick smiled. “Doesn’t look the least bit nervous to me.”

An annoying tick started in Luke’s right eyelid. He scowled. “She’s biting her bottom lip. See? There,” he muttered. “She did it again.”

“God, yes,” Nick enthused. “Very sexy.”

“That’s a sign she’s nervous, you sex maniac.” Luke glared at him, then narrowed his eyes when he saw the way his friend’s eyes lit up with devilry. “What?”

“Huh?” Nick asked, all innocence.

“Whatever you’re plotting, forget it. I don’t want her hurt.”

“Got it.” Nick saluted. Without missing a beat, he asked mildly, “Sooo...what happened to Karen?”

“Karen?”

“The girlfriend du jour?”

“I know who Karen is. She’s around here somewhere.”

“Where’s Catherine?”

“Over by the CD flirting with... You’re looking at her, you lamebrain. Why’re you asking me?”

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that you don’t know where your girlfriend is, but you know Catherine’s exact location in a crowded room?”

“No,” Luke said shortly. “I don’t. It’s my job to take care of her. Didn’t you come with a date?”

“Are you kidding?” Nick grinned. “And have to look and not partake of this delectable smorgasbord of single women? You invite me to a feast, then expect me to bring a bag lunch?”

“I wanted to give Cat a reasonable selection. It would’ve looked a little obvious if I’d invited just guys. Not to mention boring.”

“And I’m eternally grateful. You did good.”

“Putting this together was a lot of hard work.”

“Especially since Catherine was the one who did all the hard work,” Nick said dryly. “A ten spot says Ted will be date number one.”

Luke snorted. “He’s showing her that stupid scar he got when he fell off my roof last summer. Probably spinning her some far-fetched tale.”

“Women go for that stuff.”

“Nah,” Luke said absently. The tick over his eye was really getting on his nerves now. “It’ll be Allan. Twenty, on...” He peered across the room. Ted had his hands on the back of Cat’s neck. “What does he think he’s doing? Excuse me a sec.”

“It’s just a casual massage.” Nick snagged his arm. “Uh-uh. Better change that plan, old son. Incoming. Karen at three o’clock.” His smile widened.

“Don’t you have moves to make?” Luke muttered.

“You betcha. I’m off to give the guys some competition.”

Luke swore under his breath as his friend threaded his way across the crowded room to Cat’s side. She gave Nick a wide, friendly smile and took his offered hand. He led her to the small area where a few couples were dancing.

Nick was a suave, good-looking guy. Women liked Nick. Luke himself was a decent-looking guy, and just as suave as Nick was. Women liked him, too. Which was why they were going to protect Cat from smooth-talking men like themselves. That’s what Nick had meant.

Competition? Luke watched them walk into each other’s arms and move to the dreamy music. Slowly. Competition? Nick? What a repugnant thought.

Ridiculous.

Out of the question.

Luke dragged his focus away from Cat snuggled in Nick’s arms to watch Karen shimmy closer. His date looked dazzling in a short, tight red dress, black hair streaming down her bare back, long legs showcased to perfection in red high heels. He didn’t feel a single solitary spark. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

Obviously he was a sick man.

Karen slid her arm about his waist. Her perfume, recently applied, smelled great. Unfortunately, it didn’t do a thing for him. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded, sultry brown eyes. “Hi, sweetie. Miss me?”

Luke bit back the truth. Karen was a nice woman. He’d invited her to the party. Now he couldn’t wait to take her home. And leave her there. Alone.

“Sorry.” He cupped her cheek and smiled ruefully. “I’ve practically ignored you all night, haven’t I? It’s been so long since I threw one of these things. I forgot how much work it is. Let me change the CD, and I’ll give you my undivided attention.” As soon as he could manage to unglue his twitching eyes from Cat and Nick, who were like Siamese twins on the postage-size dance floor. Luke took Karen’s hand and led her to the state-of-the-art CD player, where he changed the selection of slow ballads to something loud, fast and energetic. His choice was met with a series of catcalls from his party guests. Tough.

He wrapped an arm around Karen’s bare shoulders and led her to the middle of the dancers. She moved into his arms smoothly and, despite the pulsing beat of the music, rested her head against his chest and twined her arms about his waist. She moved sensuously against him.

The problem was, Luke thought, enfolding her in his arms, she was just too...short. That was it. She was too short. She didn’t fit. Even wearing those heels, the top of her head only came to the middle of his chest. Which was really too bad. Karen was beautiful, smart, sexy. How unfortunate he’d never noticed how vertically challenged she was before tonight.

With fifty-plus bodies in it, the room was hot. Even with the door wide-open to the narrow balcony, the evening air was stifling. Luke wanted to unpeel Karen from his chest and stand under a cold shower. He concentrated on moving his feet.

Two yards away, Cat danced with Nick, laughing and chatting and having the time of her life. Luke would have to talk to her. He’d invited at least seven guys specifically for her to meet tonight. She already knew Nick.

Luke rubbed his hand down Karen’s smooth arm and turned her so that his back was toward Cat and he could give his date the attention she deserved. Karen slid her hands up his chest and around his neck.

“Too many people here.” She ran her long nails up and down the back of his neck. “Bet no one would notice if we snuck out.”

* * *

LUKE SAT IN the back row of the dark, all-night movie theater. He could have had his pick of greasy, red velvet seats. He was the only one there. Not surprising. It was 2:00 a.m. and an artsy foreign film flickered on the screen, the subtitles barely legible. At this very moment he should have been getting hot and sweaty with Karen. Instead he’d dropped her off, walked her to the door and driven back into the city.

He didn’t want to go home, because he wanted to go home so badly he could taste it.

Nuts. He was certifiably nuts. He wasn’t sure who he was doing this for. Cat or himself.

* * *

LUKE DIDN’T COME HOME.

He and his gorgeous, petite brunette with boobs out to there and legs up to here had disappeared over an hour ago. Catherine refused to speculate where they were or what they might be doing. Might? Ha! Did every woman he lusted after have to be so petite? So available? So...cute? She clenched her teeth.

Ducking out on his own party was rude as far as she was concerned. The condo was still jam-packed with Luke’s and Nick’s upwardly mobile friends, none of whom seemed to have noticed their host had gone AWOL. Everyone was having a blast.

Catherine’s head throbbed and the muscles around her mouth ached from smiling. She was tired of making nice. In fact, she’d pretended to hurt her ankle so she didn’t have to dance anymore. Which meant she was stuck sitting in Luke’s big black leather chair in the corner with her feet propped up. A captive audience for Ted, Allan, two Bobs and an ethereal blonde named Cheryl.

She let Cheryl entertain the four men while she zoned out, thinking unwillingly about what Luke was up to. Karen had beautiful skin. No freckles on her. Catherine glanced down at her own hands, fisted around a half-filled glass of warm soda. Her skin looked as though she’d been peppered. Ugh. She hated her freckles. Hated them.

One of the Bobs said something, and the others laughed. Catherine had enough presence of mind to smile. One thing she’d learned: there was no point in crying over things that couldn’t be changed. She was in this particular polka-dotty skin, and she had to resign herself to living with it. Disliking how she looked wasn’t going to change reality.

Besides, she thought, working herself up into a real snit, it was Luke’s fault. If he hadn’t always shown up with some creamy-skinned, pocket Venus, Catherine wouldn’t have grown up hating her freckles, her hair and her height.

She wanted Luke to come home and everyone else to disappear.

Eventually, finally, the guests left in dribs and drabs. Now it was after two, and Luke still wasn’t back.

The last to leave, Nick leaned over to kiss her forehead on the way out the front door. “Are you sure I can’t—”

“Go.” Catherine pushed at his wide chest. “Thank you for offering to help with the cleanup. I’ll take care of it next week when I wake up.”

“You did good, Princess. You were the belle of the ball.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.” Catherine didn’t bother to stifle a yawn. “Too bad Prince Absent wasn’t here to see me shine.”

“Oh, he saw enough. Trust me.”

“You’re a sweet man. Delusional, but sweet. Go home, Nick.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Catherine felt the muscles in her shoulders sag. Overtired, that was all. She was just overtired. Overstimulated. Overloaded.

She imagined Luke in bed with Karen. The salsa and meatballs did a sickening dance in her tummy. She gathered several empty platters from the dining room table on her way to the kitchen for a Maalox.

After changing into plaid flannel pajama bottoms, one of Luke’s T-shirts and her ratty slippers, she shuffled back into the living room and turned off the CD player. Ah. Silence.

She surveyed the messy room, knowing no matter how tired, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She almost had herself convinced it had nothing to do with Luke’s absence and everything to do with not waking up to this mess.

“You owe me, Van Buren. You owe me big.” She loaded dirty glasses onto a tray and wrinkled her nose. A sickening rush of memories assaulted her. She couldn’t smell beer without remembering that night nine years ago.

It had started harmlessly enough; her friends, fake IDs in hand, had surprised her with a visit to a strip joint for her seventeenth birthday. Catherine didn’t want to remember the rest of it. If she did, she’d be on the next plane back to Beaverton.

One thing was for certain—the next time she managed to get Luke to kiss her she’d make sure she was stone-cold sober. That was then. This was now.

Same objective. Different game plan. She’d chosen this path, and she’d stick to it. No retreating like a spineless crab. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Rah rah rah.

She looked down at her clothing and grimaced. Not exactly seductive. But if she suddenly appeared in a slinky black negligee and garter belt, Luke would run screaming for the hills. No. She had to take this slowly and methodically. She’d put the idea out there. Luke had to run with it.

She just had to have the courage of her convictions and not run when the going got tough.

It took more than an hour to clean up the party mess. Luke still wasn’t home. “Of course he isn’t. What did you expect?” she asked herself, drying the last platter and putting it away while the dishwasher hummed with the final load. “You aren’t the only woman who wants him. Duh, Catherine!”

She had to play her cards close to her chest. This time Luke had to make the first move. She just had to be patient. One of her better traits, and one not shared by Luke.

She checked the living room and narrow balcony one last time for stray glasses. Finding none, she went to turn off the kitchen light before going to bed. The place was now spotless. Luke called her a neat freak. Okay, so she was a little obsessive. He was just the opposite. For a man meticulous in his work, Luke was a slob at home. He’d happily leave the same pair of dirty socks, breeding and multiplying, under the coffee table until they walked to the laundry on their own.

Her habits had been ingrained before the age of six. She and her mother had moved seven times, sometimes in the dead of night. If everything was in its place, she’d been able to grab her most precious possessions quickly.

She glanced at the clock on the stereo: 3:30 a.m.

They’d be asleep now. Cuddled together. Karen probably had one of those froufrou beds, all lace and pink pillows. Luke would look outrageously masculine and sexy, stretched out naked—

Catherine ruthlessly cut off the thought and groaned out loud. Living with Luke was going to either kill or cure her.