Call Me Cat (9 page)

FOR THE NEXT
two weeks, life settled into a rhythm at the Beaumont house. Snow blanketed the mountains outside. Inside we laughed, watched movies, and studied when we cared to. At night, I took calls and made what money I could.

Ash called every
evening and used up most of my shift talking about, well, everything. We still hadn't had phone sex, but it didn't seem to matter. The more I got to know him, the harder it became to stay 'Cat' and not reveal myself as Catelyn. I didn't run into him again in person, mostly because we stayed home. A big storm hit our area and made driving almost impossible, so we enjoyed our winter wonderland and pretended the rest of the world didn't exist.

The Pleasure
Palace had called the police, told them about the guy who locked his daughter in a closet, but phone sex operators weren't high on the trusted sources list, so nothing was done. My heart broke at the news, but after that night I'd only received mild calls from regulars, though I often didn't have time for anyone but Ash. I shuddered to think how much he spent to talk to me and was half tempted to give him my phone number to save him the cash, but then I'd out myself and have to take real client calls.

The police didn't have any new information, but w
ere still working on the fingerprints. I had the uncharitable thought that if they did their jobs half as well as the actors who portrayed them in television and movies, we'd already have caught the guy.

But then, life isn't like the movies, is it?

Still, I enjoyed the calm before the storm.

And the storm arrived the night of the annual Beaumont Christmas party.

I REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS
as a child. Before my parents' murder. Before life changed into something I no longer recognized. Before I became a Charles Dickens character.

It was a small affair, with my dad taking us to pick out a tree at the local tree farm
a month before other families were picking out theirs. He'd buy me hot chocolate and let me walk the whole lot, boots crunching on the snow, as I studied each tree carefully before making my choice.

We were chilled to the bone by the time we got home, but Mom would light a fire in the fireplace and turn on Christmas music and we would sing and dance and laugh and hang all the ornaments one by one, each special in its own way. I had one picture left of that time. In it, I
was fourteen years old, and my dad was handing me the angel to place on top of the tree. We both wore Santa hats, and our tree had lights and tinsel and handmade ornaments that I'd made in school over the years. We looked so happy in the picture, and I could still see my mother smiling as she took it, never imagining it would be the last Christmas tree she would ever decorate.

Bridget
te had a very different Christmas experience growing up. Staff decked the halls while her mother supervised. There were no homemade ornaments or hand picked trees. Their ten-foot Douglas Fir had ornaments made of spun glass that reflected the Christmas lights into prisms on the walls. It was a perfect tree. Magazine perfect. All of the Christmas decorations in their house could have walked out of a magazine, from the garland wrapped around the stair banister to the crystal icicles hanging from the ceiling. Cool blues and icy tones dominated the color scheme, creating a cold Winter Wonderland feel to the house.

Bridget
te loved it, and I had to admit it was breathtaking, but my heart ached for our little family Christmas.

Mostly my heart ached for my family. I felt their loss more during the holidays. I'd lost them
several weeks before Christmas, shortly after I'd turned fifteen. The last time I'd seen my Christmas tree it was splattered with the crimson of my mother's blood.

My parents had no siblings
and ha
d
bot
h
lost their parent
s
to death and disease. When they died, I had no one left to care for me, and so I was placed in the system.

"Catelyn!" Bridget
te squealed from the hallway, pushing my door open. I slipped the picture I'd been staring at back into my box and turned to her. She held up two bags, a big grin on her face. "Guess what I bought us?"

I blinked away my unshed tears and tried out a smile. "I give up. What?"

"You didn't even try," she pouted, then dropped the bags unto my bed. "That one is yours." She pointed to the bag closest to me, and I opened it, pulling out a slinky red dress with matching shoes.

She grabbed the other bag
and reached in to show me the ice blue dress she'd picked for herself. "Fire and Ice. You're the fire, and I'm the ice."

I ran my h
ands over the dress, amazed at its softness.

We both tried our dresses on and examined ourselve
s in the full-length mirror. Mine fit perfectly, and the deep red complimented my dark hair. Bridgette was a vision with her pale blond curls spilling over her cream shoulders, the light blue of the dress matching her eyes. "Thank you," I said, feeling bad that she'd done so much for me and I had nothing to give back.

She hugged me from the side, stil
l staring at our reflection. "No. Thank you." She turned to face me. "This house gets lonely sometimes, even with all the staff. I envy you the memories you have of your family, of the intimacy and tenderness you had growing up. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and am grateful for them, but I'm really glad you're here with me."

Her words surprised me
, and we both brushed aside our tears.

Shaking her head, she slipped out of her dress and back into her regular clothes. "Tonight is going to be epic," she said.

"Will your new lover boy be coming?" I asked.

She nodded. "And so will the Davenports."

WE SPENT THE
afternoon getting hair and nails done (it was that kind of party) and by the time I put on my dress I felt like a nervous Cinderella getting ready for the ball.

I hadn't expected Ash at the Beaumont fundraiser, nor had I expected him to pop up
randomly when he did. This would be the first time I could anticipate our meeting, and my stomach filled with swarms of butterflies. It was silly to feel this nervous about a boy at my age. These feelings should be reserved for teenagers experiencing their first crushes, not law school students who had lived enough to know better.

Except my heart and my head weren't on speaking terms, apparently.

Before the first guest arrived, while the staff buzzed around downstairs making everything perfect, I sat watching Bridgette apply a coating of pale pink gloss to her lips while I fidgeted in my dress.

She stared
at me through her mirror, her puckered lips frowning. "Does it fit okay? I was sure I'd gotten the right size."

"It fits fine. I'm just…
" I didn't want to say it. Didn't want to confess my feelings for the tall, dark and sexy billionaire Harley rider.

"Nervous?" She blew me a kiss. "Don't be. You'll have whichever Davenport you choose eating out of your hands by the evening's end. But I suspect only one
has a chance with you."

I stood, adjusting my dress one last time as Mrs. Beaumont called us down. "Neither has any chance with me. I'm not interested. Besides, once he finds out I'm Cat, any interest he might have will vanish."

She shrugged. "Then don't tell him. Stop taking his calls, or get a new identity and a new fake name and let him think Cat is gone forever. Then make your move as Catelyn and let the past be the past."

"And build a r
elationship with him on a lie?"

"All relationships are built on lies. They're built on what we think the other person wants to see in us, and what we want to see in them, and how we each interpret the subjective symbols of communication. Too much truth would spoil it."

"You're such a romantic," I told her as we walked down the staircase. Several guests had already arrived and were handing over winter coats to the butler and accepting glasses of wine and champagne. A handsome blond man with chiseled features looked up as we descended and smiled at us both with something of a leer that made me uncomfortable. Bridgette smiled at him. "That's Bradley!"

Ah, so I'd finally get to meet her new man. After
shoving his tongue down Bridgette's throat, he turned to me, kissing my hand with wet lips that stayed too long. I pulled back, resisting the urge to wipe his kiss off on my dress. "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Bridget
te never told me you were as stunning as she. A guy could do worse than the two of you in his bed."

I shot a look at Brig, who laughed like this was normal, so I turned my attention back to the sneering asshole
. "That guy would probably be kneed in his groin if he tried that, so I wouldn't envy him too much." I walked away with a scowl on my face.

I didn't walk right into Ash, thou
gh I could have given my mood and lack of focus. Instead, he came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder, to which I responded by elbowing him in the stomach.

Not on purpose. But after everything that happened recently, I was a bit on edge
, and he startled me.

He groaned
, and I turned around ready to apologize, but he was grinning. "You sure know how to spread the holiday cheer."

"I didn't know it was you."

"Who'd you think it would be? Because I feel bad for that guy."

"You just took me by surprise."

Something about this man always grated my nerves when we were together, but on the phone or in my thoughts he was much more enjoyable. Looking at him, I couldn't help but admire the way his tux showed off his muscles. It had clearly been tailored just for him. Tonight his hair was pulled back into a rubber band at the base of his neck, the black locks held in place by sheer force of will. It brought out his high cheekbones, sculpted jaw and seductive bedroom eyes.

He took a step closer to me, resting a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I should have remembered about your apartment. It's no wonder you're on edge."

This close I could smell his cologne, and something else. I smiled. "Cuban cigars again?"

"How'
d you know I smoke Cubans? Maybe you're the one stalking me."

I realized
that
I
didn't know. Cat knew. I had to be more careful about keeping my two relationships with Ash separate in my mind. "You look the type to enjoy something benignly illegal, and I can smell the cigar smoke on you."

"If a career in law fails you, you might want to consider the other side of the justice system," he said through a smile.

"The other side? Like being a criminal?"

His smile turned to a laugh. "Like being a detective. You're more observant than the average girl."

"What about the average guy?"

"What about him?"

"Am I more observant than the average guy? Being compared only to other girls eliminates fifty percent of the competition."

He dropped his hand
, and my skin tingled where he'd touched me. "You're more observant than the average person—unless that's too limiting because it doesn't includeother sentient species that might have observational powers. And you're far more irritating than most of the
m,
too, but I find myself entirely charmed by you nonetheless."

"I think there's
a compliment in there somewhere," I said, smirking.

"There is. There always is."

Jon joined us, just as dashing as his brother but with a very different look: the tidy, boy-next-door look. "Is Ash irritating you? Because I can play the prince and rescue you." He said this with a smile and a friendly attitude.

"I don't need a prince to save me, but thanks for the offer." Someone should just nickname me Ms. Prickly.

A deeper voice boomed from behind me. "Every woman should have a prince, even if she doesn't need one. Women should be treated like the princesses they are." I turned to see a man who looked more like Jon than Ash, but older. His blond hair had silver streaks, but his blue eyes were still sharp and it was clear the brothers got their height and build from their dad.

Ash's smile wavered, turning to something sour. "Dad, this is Catelyn Travis, a close friend of the Beaumonts. Catelyn, this is Ashton Benjamin Davenport the Second. We just call him Dad."

"Miss Travis, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope my boys are treating you well."

"Like a princess." I beamed.

He chuckled. I could tell this was a man used to getting what he wanted when he wanted, and admired Ash for being able to stand up to him and go his own way, even if he took some hits on the road to his own path.

"
You've raised two gentlemen, sir," I said. Whatever I felt about the brothers and their irritating competition for my attention, I didn't want to set them against their father. They didn't deserve that.

"Glad to hear it. Your na
me
—Travis—is familiar to me. Have I met you or your family before?" His eyes bore into mine, as if trying to read every secret in my mind.

"We haven't met, and I doubt you've met my parents. They died many years ago."

I could tell the moment he connected the dots. "The Midnight Murderer. I remember that case. I had some friends in the DA’s office and every lawyer there was biting at the bit for it to go to trial, but the police botched the investigation. Never even had a viable suspect, I believe."

My skin prickled with trepidation. "Yes, that's correct."

Ash stepped in, offering me his arm, which I took. "I was just taking Miss Travis to get a drink. Good to see you, Dad."

"Son."

Ash escorted me away, securing us drinks on the way to the buffet table. "It seems my family will be perpetually apologizing to you for how we each behave."

"He'
s
… " I searched for the right word, "…an intense man."

"Ha! That's one word for it."

My nerves settled as the party became livelier and some unexpected guests arrived.

Professor Cavin had polished up well, if not quite as high end as some of the other guests. "What are you doing here?" I asked, offering him a glass of champagne.

"The Beaumonts are old friends, and their version of sending out Christmas cards is inviting people to their annual party." He didn't have quite the same confidence here that he had in the classroom, which I understood. Even a Harvard law professor could be intimidated by some of the names at this party, including a few well-known celebrities that I'd worked hard not to go all fan-girl over.

"I'm glad you're here," I said.

A waiter walked up holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres,and I did a doubl
e-
take. "Lucky?"

He smiled. "I got a gig with the catering company when I couldn't land a spot at the mall." He
glanced down at himself. "I ain’t never felt this fancy before."

"It suits you."

The music, the food, the buzz of champagne running through my veins, all of it took the edge off the stress I'd been carrying for weeks. I laughed and danced and enjoyed myself. In an odd sort of duel, each of the Davenport men asked me for a dance, starting with their father.

Mrs. Davenport looked on kindly as I walked to the floor with her husband
. I felt no sexual intentions, but I did feel judged, as if my dance skills would be used to determine if I was good enough for either of his sons.

Dancing with Jon left me happy in the kind of way a pleasant day at the beach might.

And then I danced with Ash.

"Saving the best for last, I see," he said, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him, my breasts pressed against his chest.

"Is there something going on with the Davenport men?" I asked.

"One thing I will say about us, we appreci
ate a beautiful woman. And you have stolen this party tonight."

His hand dipped down to the small of my back as he leaned in to put his mouth near my ear, his lips brushing my earlobe so gently I almost didn't feel it. "I'm tired of waiting for other people or fate to bring us together. Have dinner with me this week."

I didn't know what to say. He made my body throb for something I'd never had before. He made me want to do bad things all night long, and then rinse and repeat. He made me wish there were fewer clothes between us, because suddenly dancing felt like vertical sex and I just wanted to feel him inside of me.

Dancing with Ash scared the hell out of me.

Seeing him again. On purpose. For an actual date. I didn't know how that would work. The song ended and we stopped dancing, but still he held me close. "I'm not letting go until you answer me."

"I'm in the middle of a big mess in my life. You don't want to be a part of that."

"Let me decide what I want to be a part of."

"Maybe. That's all I can offer you for now. Maybe."

"Then let this inspire you to make the right decision." His head dipped down, arms pulling me closer as he found my lips with his. Without regard for who was watching, Ash kissed me deeply, taking his time to explore my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine. When his hand gripped the back of my neck, my body relaxed into his and I gave into the kiss, giving as much as he did, building the passion between us until we made our own music and everyone else disappeared.

When he stepped back, my knees were we
ak, and I felt flushed.

"Thank you for the dance, Miss Travis. I look forward to your answer."

I pulled away from him and found the nearest bathroom to lock myself in, my heart hammering. I needed to talk to Bridgette, who I knew would encourage me to go for it. Maybe that's what I needed. Someone to talk me into doing what I really wanted.

My head spun with music and the noise of those around me laughing and talking and enjoying the party. I searched for Bridget
te, a new nervousness building in me when I couldn't find her. Her parents hadn't seen her, but Lucky said she'd looked tired and maybe a little drunk and might have gone upstairs.

I was about to go look for her there when the butler brought me the house phone. "Miss Travis," he said with a frown—of disapproval or concern I couldn't tell— "the phone is for you. They were quite insistent that you take it now."

I did.

"You don't look lonely anymor
e,
Kitty Cat."

My heart stopped
, and I almost threw up expensive champagne. It was him. The Midnight Murderer. He had the same Darth Vader voice the night he killed my parents.