How Cat Got a Life Page 5

  In the past four years, Cat had told herself that she had no friends because she’d been too busy with responsibilities, too worn out from looking after others, but the truth was that she didn’t trust people easily and tended to pull back from overtures of friendship. Now it crossed her mind that the small kernel of affection between her and Karen could grow if nurtured.

  “Karen,” she said. “I’d like to keep in touch. I expect to come down again at the end of term. Perhaps we could get together for lunch. Not here, but somewhere in town. I’d like to take you out to thank you for all your help this week.”

  “That would be nice.” Karen lowered her sandwich and fiddled with the wrapper. “Brock’s a good man, you know. He’s had a difficult time, and he wears the scars. Don’t write him off just yet. Give him a chance.”

  A denial of any interest in him hovered on her tongue. Cat drew a deep breath. If she wanted to have friends, she needed to learn to open up.

  “I’ve had my own difficulties.” She told Karen about Tim and her marriage.

  “He was impotent? So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long ago…?”

  “It’s more than four years since I slept with a man.” Cat’s lips twisted in a rueful smile. “So, you can see that Brock’s not the only one around here with baggage to ditch.”

  Karen shook her head in disbelief. Then her eyes sparkled. “Hey, why don’t you apply for the opening we have for a secretary? You said you need a job. It would sure liven up things here, you and Brock working together.

  Cat scrunched up her sandwich wrapper and dropped it in the trash. “I’m not going to become your personal reality dating show, thank you very much.”

  But when she packed her briefcase and drove back to the Hillside Inn, she had to admit Karen’s idea held certain crazy merit.

  ****

  “Kitty. Kitty.” The little girl in pigtails tossed the beach ball along the lawn.

  Cat laughed. “No. Cat. My name is Cat, not Kitty.”

  “Kitty.”

  “All right then.” She collected the ball and tossed it back to the girl.

  The clear sky had chased away the autumn cool and her skin felt tender after two hours in the sunshine. From the corner of her eye, she kept an eye on Dalton and the pretty brunette organizing a volley ball game for the older kids.

  Instinct told her that Marybeth was like Sandra and would expect a wedding ring in exchange for her virginity. Cat made a mental note to discuss the topic with Dalton, make sure the boy understood the way of things.

  A sense of parental responsibility had brought her out to the children’s home, even at the risk that Dalton might think she was smothering him. After meeting the high school student who was the object of his interest, Cat had carefully kept away from the pair, loitering in the garden, trying to form an idea of how serious Dalton was, so she could find the right tone when she talked to him about the girl.

  Reluctant to return to the hotel and face the sense of failure and rejection that had filled the sleepless night, Cat had accepted the invitation to play with some of the younger children.

  “Sheri. Sheri.”

  Tammy, the little girl, ignored the bouncing ball and tore down the gravel path with wobbly legs.

  Oh no.

  Cat glanced around for a means of escape, but a high hedge surrounded the yard from three sides. Along the only possible exit route, Brock Leonetti scooped the little girl in his arms and walked over. The faded jeans clung to his narrow hips. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the casual white shirt, exposing corded forearms, and as he came to a halt, Tammy gripped his collar, popping open enough buttons to reveal an expanse of hard muscle sprinkled with crinkly black hair.

  “Sheri. Play with Kitty.”

  Cat sucked in a breath. Of the million things the child could have said, why did she have to pick that?

  “Sure,” Brock said, with an enigmatic look in her direction. He lowered Tammy to the lawn and picked up the beach ball, tossing it to Cat.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, frantically trying to control the fiery surge of blood to her face. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  Brock tucked his chin down as he buttoned up his shirt. “I sometimes come by on Saturdays. Practice, in case one day I have kids of my own.” He smiled at her and flicked his hand, inviting her to toss the ball back.

  She hurled it at him with all her might. Why did he have that predatory glint in his eagle eyes? Wasn’t rejecting her enough for his masculine ego? Why did he have to taunt her, oozing sex appeal and tugging at her heartstrings with the display of the little girl in his arms?

  “Whoa. You sure pack a punch.” He caught the brightly colored ball with ease. “But I guess I already knew that.”

  “Sheri, Sheri.” Tammy wrapped herself around Brock’s leg and stared up at him in worship. He flung the ball to the ground and picked up the child. Tammy threw her arms around his neck and smacked a kiss on his freshly shaven cheek.

  “Kitty kiss Sheri,” Tammy said, shifting in Brock’s lap to point at Cat.

  Cat backed up a step, but to her utter confusion Brock settled Tammy in the crook of his arm and came after her. He draped his other arm across her shoulders and folded her close, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he told her quietly. “She is just trying to create a family for herself for a brief moment, the way she sees families getting together in television commercials.”

  Her head snapped straight and she stared at Brock. The tenderness in his expression knifed right through her heart. Her own troubles, the year in a loveless marriage and the loneliness of her responsibility for Dalton paled in comparison to the yearning of a child without a family. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she couldn’t keep them in, couldn’t stop them from falling. Warm and wet, they rolled down her cheeks.

  “Kitty is sad,” Tammy said, her mouth trembling.

  “No, sweetheart.” Cat leaned over and kissed the child’s satiny cheek. “Kitty is happy because today she has met you.”

  “Why don’t you go and get cro-cro?” Brock withdrew his arm from Cat’s shoulders and settled Tammy on her feet. “We can teach Kitty to play.”

  Tammy scampered away. Brock turned around. He reached out and gently wiped away a tear from the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry about the other night. I knew you’d be here. I rang up to check how Dalton is doing and heard you were with him today. I sought you out to apologize.”

  “There’s no need to apologize for anything.”

  “I’m apologizing anyway. Perhaps, when you’re in town next, I could take you out to dinner.”

  The sounds around the yard seemed to fade. His warmth and strength enveloped her, not a sexual heat, but something deeper, real and lasting.

  “I…I’d like that,” Cat answered in a low murmur.

  Tammy trundled back across the lawn, dragging behind her two small croquet mallets.

  “Sheri teach Kitty,” she said and dumped the mallets down.

  “Come along, girls,” Brock collected the mallets and pointed to the playing field behind the low red brick building. “Let’s go and play happy families.”

  ****

  Tammy squealed with joy as Brock gripped her around the waist and flew her like a plane. The sun baked overhead and coated his body with perspiration. He felt edgy, itchy, and the sensation crawled inside him, just as it did on his skin.

  He should have left long ago, he’d only intended to drop by, but it felt as if an invisible string tied him to the playground.

  “Okay, here goes,” Cat said and lined the mallet against the ball.

  The chinos clung to her backside as she leaned in to strike. Brock propped Tammy on her feet and stepped away. He felt his muscles tighten. For an hour, he’d been fighting an erection. Not in front of a child. He repeated the words in his mind like a mantra. So far it had worked.

  The mallet connected, sending the ball rolling through the ga
te. Cat gave shout of victory and raced to retrieve the ball. Brock turned his head. He didn’t dare to look in her direction. Didn’t she understand that her blouse sagged at the front, allowing him a peek at her breasts every time she bent down?

  “Three-two to the girls.” She loped back and grinned at him. “Well, Sheriff, where’s you sporting prowess? Unless you hit the ball through the gate—she pointed at an impossible angle behind a tuft of grass—you’ve been beaten.”

  Well and truly beaten, Brock thought. He shook his head as he took aim and swung the mallet. How on earth had he been able to resist her on Thursday night? Did he have ice water in his veins instead of blood? It tore him up to know that he’d had the opportunity to lose himself in her soft body, and he’d passed it by.

  “Whoops,” Cat said as he missed the gate. “You’ll just have to be satisfied with being second best.” Her green eyes sparkled in the sun. A dusting of freckles he hadn’t noticed before warmed her pale skin.

  Never. The word soared in his mind. I’ll never want to be second best for you.

  Tammy scampered across the lawn.

  “Sheri win?” She beamed up at him.

  “No, sweetheart.” He scooped her up. “You and Kitty win.”

  “Sheri kiss Tammy.” She pursed her mouth and closed her eyes.

  Brock pecked her lips. He hadn’t quite decided if the child’s sudden obsession with kissing suited him or not.

  “Sheri kiss Kitty,” Tammy demanded and reached a hand out for Cat.

  “Here we go again,” she said and walked up to him. It had to be the fourth time, and so far he’d limited himself to a brush on her cheek or forehead. Now, Cat imitated Tammy, pursing her lips, then rose on tiptoe and rubbed her mouth against his. It wasn’t even really a kiss, but it sent a pull of desire tugging deep inside him.

  “I have to go,” he said, and handed Tammy to Cat. “Remember, when you come back again, let me know, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

  As Brock walked away, he cursed himself for the millionth time. Weeks, even months would go by before he got another chance with her. Worse, she might never get in touch when she returned. What about all those other men he was supposed to have prepared her for, those dates she planned to go out on? His hands clenched into fists as he considered the prospect of her with someone else.

  He’d been a damn, damn fool.

  ****

  Sleep wouldn’t come. Cat turned over and checked the time on the alarm clock. Ten past ten. She’d gone to bed early in preparation for the morning flight home. Every time she closed her eyes, Brock filled her vision. Smiling tenderly, his guarded amber eyes turning warm and inviting, the way they had as he watched her striding across the sunny field of grass.

  Karen’s words echoed in her mind. Brock’s a good man, you know. Don’t write him off just yet. Give him a chance.

  Remember, when you come back again, let me know, and I’ll take you out to dinner. His voice reached out to her, as if he’d spoken by her bedside

  The end of term when she’d return seemed forever, and in a flash Cat knew she couldn’t wait that long. Couldn’t wait at all. She flung the covers aside and jumped out of bed. Using one hand to dial Dalton’s cell phone, she began to pull on a pair of leggings and a tight long-sleeved top.

  “Dalton? Where are you?”

  “I’m in the bar on campus. What’s up?”

  “Have you been drinking? Is your judgment impaired?”

  “I only just got here,” Dalton said with a defensive huff. “And they know I’m only sixteen. They won’t serve me anything stronger than ginger ale.”

  “When does the freshman Clock Tower Challenge officially end?”

  “Midnight tonight.” His voice fell to a secret whisper. “No one made it this year. Are you suggesting…it will be dark.”

  “Climbing is mostly by feel anyway, and I think there are some floodlights.”

  “Are you saying…?” Dalton paused, let out a muffled whoop of excitement. “I’m just sitting here on my own. No one will take any notice if I leave. If you’re sure, I’m up for it.”

  “Get your gear and meet me in the parking lot outside your dorm. I’m on my way over.”

  “Cat, you’re the best stepmother a boy could have. I’ll go get my rock boots.”

  Cat’s lips curved into a tight smile as she pressed the button to end the call.

  Brock Leonetti would find out what it was like to be chased.

  ****

  “Do it again.” Cat shook her arms to ease her cramping muscles while she watched Dalton leap and windmill in front of the alarm sensor on the wall.

  “The damn thing’s not working,” he said in a growl. “What do we do?”

  “We’ll carry on to the top. There must be another alarm by the clock.”

  Cat tipped her head back and surveyed the brickwork on the tower in front of her. They had made it without incident to the flat roof of the main building, where climbers normally triggered the alarm. The Clock Tower Challenge was to make it up to the top in the time it took for the law to arrive. According to the rules, the climbers had to stop when the sheriff or one of his deputies stepped out of their vehicle.

  “We’ll be disqualified,” Dalton said. “We’ll get to the top, but there’ll be no time pressure.

  “We can’t be sure,” Cat protested. Although the darkness covered them, occasionally a car drove by, and she kept her voice down. “Even if the alarm isn’t going off, it might have sent a signal to a dispatcher.”

  She started up ahead of Dalton. Her hands crept over the brickwork, finding tiny cracks for her fingers to slip inside, giving just enough purchase to hoist her weight up to the next foothold, where her rubber-soled boots clung to the small ridges in the vertical surface.

  “Are you okay?” she called down to Dalton.

  “Cakewalk,” he answered. “Hurry up. I want that ledge for my handhold.”

  The application of skill and balance and strength pumped a sense of triumph through her body and mind. There had been no signs of Brock or one of his deputies by the time they reached the open chamber at the top of the clock tower. Breathing heavily, Cat flopped inside.

  “Where’s the alarm?” Dalton circled the small square room.

  “There.” She pointed to the infrared sensor on the wall.

  “It’s not blinking.” Dalton moved his hand side to side in front of the small plastic box. “The fucking thing’s broken.”

  Cat frowned at him. “Don’t use that word.”

  “Why not?” Dalton complained. “Don’t you realize? Unless you’re prepared to down-climb, we’ll be stuck here until morning.” His face clouded. “Shit, if no one comes within shouting distance, we might be stuck here until Monday morning when people arrive for work.”

  “I hate down-climbing,” Cat said. “Much too dangerous in the dark.”

  “So, what the heck do we do?”

  The night chill wrapped around them. Cat surveyed their surroundings. No source of heat, no toilet, no food, only limited shelter. “Try the trapdoor,” she told him.

  Dalton crouched by the wooden square in the floor that provided access to the staircase inside the tower. “I don’t need to try. You can see it’s padlocked.”

  “Try it anyway.”

  She waited while Dalton yanked the metal ring that served as a handle.

  “It won’t even budge. Shit. I’ve arranged to go down to the shore tomorrow with Marybeth’s family. They want to leave at seven. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Cat took out her cell phone from the zippered pocket on the front of her top. A crack ran along the plastic casing, and the display wouldn’t switch on. “Damn. I’ve broken my phone. I slammed my side against the railing when I swung over the top. I heard a crunching sound. It must have been the phone in my pocket.”

  “I’ve got mine,” Dalton said. He extracted the phone from the pouch tied around his waist. “I’ll dial 9-1-1.”

  “You can’
t.” Cat grabbed his arm. “Brock would kill me.”

  Dalton lowered the phone. “What else do you suggest? It’s a cold night. Sooner or later we’ll have to call anyway, and it’s better to call now, before we have to make things worse by peeing in the corners.”

  He raised his hand, scrolled down the stored numbers. “If you prefer, I can call the sheriff. He gave me his number when I started working at the children’s home.”

  Cat closed her eyes. It had seemed such a good idea two hours ago, but Brock would be furious. She had wanted another week with him. Instead, he might end up throttling her.

  “Go on then,” she muttered. “Tell him I’m with you. He might calm down a bit on his way over.”

  Chapter Five

  Brock parked by the entrance to the Town Hall and jumped out of the car. Of all the harebrained women in the world, why did Catherine Bridgewater have to be the one to invade his life, turning his beliefs upside down, firing up every male instinct he possessed?

  He found the pair of them shivering in the open chamber at the top of the clock tower.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted before he fully emerged through the trapdoor. He scowled at Dalton. “You were supposed to keep her out of trouble.”

  “Sorry.” The boy had the audacity to grin. “I tried.”

  Brock turned to Cat, and the fear that clenched in his gut almost brought him to this knees. “Don’t you understand you could have been hurt?”

  She stood before him, arrow-trim in the black leggings and top, hugging her arms for warmth. A forlorn expression flickered over her face as she stared up at him, eyes full of uncertainty.

  “Christ, Cat.” He gathered her into his arms. “Don’t you realize what it would do to me to find your lifeless body sprawled on the sidewalk?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “We’re good climbers. There was no danger.”

  His hands roamed her back, as if to make sure she remained unharmed. Nothing else mattered. In that moment, when he cradled her body against his, attempting to share his heat with her, it dawned upon Brock that if Cat had fallen and died, his grief would have eclipsed the pain he’d felt when he lost his wife.