Cat's Lair
Page 14
Catarina’s heart stuttered. Another compliment from Ridley, and it sounded genuine. She should have been just a little upset over the way he sounded, as if he was astonished, but no one had ever said anything like that to her before. Not ever. She blinked at him and all the attitude melted away. She didn’t know what to say so she turned her back on him and walked toward her bedroom.
“Wait.” His voice was low. Sexy.
She felt heat spreading. Looking over her shoulder at him, she raised an eyebrow, afraid to trust her voice.
“I brought coffee. I wasn’t certain if you were up already, but I couldn’t carry it and the boxes. Two cups sitting right outside your door.” He didn’t wait to see if she’d get them, he just stalked through her living space and left her to it.
Catarina took a deep breath. She had no idea how Ridley managed to get past her guard. No one ever did that, but he didn’t even seem to notice she had barriers up at all. He didn’t see her shields and she certainly wasn’t invisible to him.
“Do you have any tools? I should have asked you that.”
She yanked open the door and there were two cups from Poetry Slam sitting right outside where he’d said they would be. She brought them in, taking a sip of the one that was marked latte. Not as good as she made, but passable. She needed the caffeine if she was going to deal with Ridley Cromer. Last night he hadn’t come inside, in fact if anything, he’d seemed a little distracted. He hadn’t mentioned the security system again, so she had hoped he would forget all about it. Evidently he hadn’t.
“Tools, Kitten.”
“Malcom may have left a few lying around. He keeps most of his things in that corner over there.” She waved her hand toward what she considered Malcom’s mess. She didn’t ever touch his things, so she didn’t go near them, otherwise she’d never be able to stop herself from straightening everything up.
The bed was her goal – to make it, not sleep in it. She caught his grin when he glanced into her bedroom and saw the covers all over the floor and partially off the bed.
“You really wake up in a mood, don’t you? I can’t believe no one’s ever mentioned it.”
She turned to face him. Throwing coffee would not only be childish, but stupid when she needed it. Besides, if she had to, she could always throw his cup at him.
“No one ever sees me in the morning because I live alone.”
“You can’t have lived alone your entire life, woman. Someone has to know you’re a grump.” Amusement crept into his tone.
He sorted through the boxes without looking at her – a good thing, because she stiffened and then froze, her heart pounding in her throat. This kind of thing was exactly why she didn’t let anyone into her life. She tasted fear in her mouth.
She waited too long to answer and his head came up, his eyes on hers. He saw too much. He knew she was frozen, unable to speak. She could see it on his face. Ridley pushed the box he was opening aside and crossed the space to her. He had a gentle look on his face. He took his coffee cup from her hand and reached for her with the other, his palm sliding beneath her hair to curl around the nape of her neck.
“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.”
“Wait.” His voice was low. Sexy.
She felt heat spreading. Looking over her shoulder at him, she raised an eyebrow, afraid to trust her voice.
“I brought coffee. I wasn’t certain if you were up already, but I couldn’t carry it and the boxes. Two cups sitting right outside your door.” He didn’t wait to see if she’d get them, he just stalked through her living space and left her to it.
Catarina took a deep breath. She had no idea how Ridley managed to get past her guard. No one ever did that, but he didn’t even seem to notice she had barriers up at all. He didn’t see her shields and she certainly wasn’t invisible to him.
“Do you have any tools? I should have asked you that.”
She yanked open the door and there were two cups from Poetry Slam sitting right outside where he’d said they would be. She brought them in, taking a sip of the one that was marked latte. Not as good as she made, but passable. She needed the caffeine if she was going to deal with Ridley Cromer. Last night he hadn’t come inside, in fact if anything, he’d seemed a little distracted. He hadn’t mentioned the security system again, so she had hoped he would forget all about it. Evidently he hadn’t.
“Tools, Kitten.”
“Malcom may have left a few lying around. He keeps most of his things in that corner over there.” She waved her hand toward what she considered Malcom’s mess. She didn’t ever touch his things, so she didn’t go near them, otherwise she’d never be able to stop herself from straightening everything up.
The bed was her goal – to make it, not sleep in it. She caught his grin when he glanced into her bedroom and saw the covers all over the floor and partially off the bed.
“You really wake up in a mood, don’t you? I can’t believe no one’s ever mentioned it.”
She turned to face him. Throwing coffee would not only be childish, but stupid when she needed it. Besides, if she had to, she could always throw his cup at him.
“No one ever sees me in the morning because I live alone.”
“You can’t have lived alone your entire life, woman. Someone has to know you’re a grump.” Amusement crept into his tone.
He sorted through the boxes without looking at her – a good thing, because she stiffened and then froze, her heart pounding in her throat. This kind of thing was exactly why she didn’t let anyone into her life. She tasted fear in her mouth.
She waited too long to answer and his head came up, his eyes on hers. He saw too much. He knew she was frozen, unable to speak. She could see it on his face. Ridley pushed the box he was opening aside and crossed the space to her. He had a gentle look on his face. He took his coffee cup from her hand and reached for her with the other, his palm sliding beneath her hair to curl around the nape of her neck.
“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.”
