Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (17 page)

“I’m already glad, Cat.” He slid his hand up her thigh, unable to refrain.

Cat laid her hand on Hank’s to stop its progression up her leg. “One last surprise.”

He’d expressed a fondness for her lingerie, so she’d purposely worn an especially sweet pair in case they had cause to celebrate. She stood up and slowly unbuttoned her dress, then let it fall to her ankles.

Hank catapulted off the sofa and fingered the fine white lace bra before his mouth slanted over hers and stole her breath. She surrendered to his passionate assault, collapsing against him as her knees softened like warm butter.

“God almighty,” he murmured, breaking the kiss. He trailed his fingertips along her jawline, neck, and collarbone. “You’re like a dream, Cat.”

It is a dream
, she thought while praying she wouldn’t wake up too soon. She wished it could remain light and playful indefinitely yet knew that would be impossible.

His thumb circled the hollow notch at the base of her throat. Closing her eyes, she craned her neck, and when his hot mouth latched on to that spot, her breath audibly hitched. Somehow Hank’s kisses were more intimate than Justin’s, or any man’s. That fact thrilled and frightened her, but she wouldn’t give them up—not yet.

“Hank,” she said hoarsely, groping at the hem of his T-shirt, angry with the fabric for denying her skin contact.

His hands slid up her waist and cupped her breasts. His gentle ministrations continued until her nipples ached with want.

“Please,” she moaned, gripping his shoulders. He made her body hum like a tuning fork, and she loved it.

“Patience.” His lips curled against her neck. When she uttered a protest, he swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall. “You’re not the only one with an agenda today.”

Before she could question him, he set her on the bed.

Swept up by passion, she reached for his shorts, but he stilled her hands.

“My turn to take charge, Catalina.” He straddled her on his knees and pushed her wrists above her head, pinning her against the mattress before kissing her. Her skin prickled with heat wherever his touch or mouth grazed her body.

A throbbing ache down low caused her to arch her back. When he released her hands to remove his shirt, she grasped his thighs. His heavy breathing made her wet and needy. She bucked her hips, seeking relief.

Responding with a shower of deliberate, hot kisses to her neck and breasts, he then pushed her hands above her head. “Stay.”

He dragged his mouth along the slopes of her waist, working his way south until his head rested between her thighs. His thumbs flicked her nipples while his tongue circled her most private parts. Squirming with pleasure, a frustrated moan escaped her lips. “Hank, please.”

Within minutes he brought her to shattering spasms. When her body quieted, he flashed his lopsided grin. He rose up on his knees to unzip his shorts and ease a condom over his rampant erection. “My turn.”

“Thank God.” She raked her hands through his blond locks. Everything about him aroused her, starting with the hair on his head. Something about Hank set her spirit loose in a way she’d never experienced with any other man.

He entered her swiftly, greedily thrusting deep inside her, igniting a fire even their sweat-soaked bodies couldn’t douse. After an exalted groan, he tempered his pace and reverently uttered, “Catalina.”

In that moment, when he seemed lost, she was found.

His mouth joined hers. His hips drove into her in a frenzied pace until they came together with a blissful shout.

Hank collapsed, breathing heavily against the nape of her neck. She relished the weight of his sculpted body pressing her into the mattress. Her hands roamed his shoulders and back, memorizing each line and sinew. Moments later, he kissed her temple, then rolled over, cradling her body against his.

He molded her to his body. His steady heartbeat droned like a metronome, lulling her into a sense of lazy security. Too soon, he spoke.

“Hate to do this—and I mean hate—but I’ve got to head home.” He hooked his finger under her jaw, lifting her face to his. “I promised Jenny she could go out tonight.”

“Five more minutes.” She snuggled against his chest. “Maybe ten.”

“Okay, ten.” He gently brushed his fingers along her back and kissed her temple. “Any chance you might want to renegotiate this no-strings business?”

I wish I could.
The thought echoed in her chest, causing an ache. Yet if she let him closer, it would only hurt more when it ended. “Let’s not ruin a perfectly good celebration by getting serious, Hank.”

He didn’t respond other than to hold her a little tighter while keeping his gaze on the ceiling. After a moment, he said, “You know, you just gave me some good advice about seizing opportunities when they come. Of course, maybe you don’t view me and my lifestyle as an opportunity.”

“It’s about me, Hank. Not you. I’m not good at relationships. I . . . I’m just not the kind of woman who can make you happy for the long haul.”

“Why don’t I get to decide that for myself?”

Of course he’d say that, because from his perspective things looked perfect. But she knew nothing in life was ever as perfect as it seemed—least of all her.

After a lengthy internal debate, she confessed the minimum she could while warning him not to get too attached. “Because I’m not willing to open up just to be left devastated when you discover what I already know.”

Hank tucked his finger under her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze. “You’ve obviously got some doubts, maybe even secrets. I’m not demanding full disclosure and wedding bells, Cat, but I’m not a fan of the sex-buddies thing, either. Can’t we have a normal dating experience? You set the pace.”

Logic told her this was too good to last. Yes, logic dictated she keep things light and remain focused on their business plans so she didn’t end up heartbroken. But then again, Cat had never been all that well acquainted with logic.

“One day at a time?” Or perhaps one hundred . . .

“Baby steps.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

She snuggled back against his chest, closing her eyes, praying for forgiveness because, despite everything she knew about herself and her secrets, she heard herself saying, “I can do that.”

Mom,

I’m in trouble. Big trouble.

I like Hank. Really like him. Like, think-about-him-way-too-often kind of liking him. He’s genuine and kind and honest, which is why I doubt he could ever really like the real me.

But it feels so good when he smiles at me, I can’t walk away.

See? Trouble!

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

H
ank had insisted he be the one to share their plans with Jackson, mostly to spare Cat the brunt of her brother’s anger. A year ago he wouldn’t have been as concerned, but Jackson’s recent bouts of impatience and moodiness made Hank wary.

His truck tires kicked up dust plumes when he drove across the gravel leading up to Jackson’s office. That grinding sound had greeted him hundreds of times since the first day he’d parked in front of this old barn. God, back then he’d been so eager to begin a new job.

Jackson had always been generous with all his employees, but particularly with Hank. Whether their shared experience of caring for sick mothers or their obsession with perfection in their work forged a kinship, he couldn’t say.

What he could recall were Friday-afternoon Coronas on the patio, road trips to Vermont to pick up reclaimed hardwood, daily bets on the number of change orders they’d receive from the client from hell, crazy Mrs. Holloway.

Yet this past year, his friend had become cynical, driving, and unfocused.

Jackson needed Hank’s help now more than ever, which heaped a whole lot of guilt about leaving on Hank’s shoulders. This would be the first time he ever walked away from someone who depended on him, and Hank couldn’t shake off the doubts clinging to him like ivy strangling a tree trunk.

Sighing, he stepped out of his truck and meandered inside, hoping to catch his friend in a good mood.

“Hey, buddy.” Jackson yanked an old printer toner cartridge out of the machine. “Give me a sec.”

“Take your time.” Hank glanced around the office, projecting now toward his future.

How would he weather the ups and downs faced by small businesses? Would the pressure change him the way it seemed to be changing Jackson? Would it change Cat?

“Thirsty?” Jackson withdrew two beers from the refrigerator, tossed the caps in the trash, and handed one to Hank.

“Guess so.” Hank raised the bottle at Jackson before taking a swig, then noticed a few empties in the trash can. “Drinking on the job?”

“After hours, when wrapping up paperwork.” Jackson’s eyes, which didn’t quite meet Hank’s, told a different story. Almost in defiance, he drew a long pull from the bottle. “So what’s up? Is Doug still giving you a hard time?”

“No.” Heightened awareness of Jackson’s drinking worsened the pit in Hank’s stomach. For an instant he reconsidered his plans, wondering if perhaps he and Cat could wait until Jackson’s new crew was better trained and his friend more stable. But Hank had made a promise to her—one he intended to keep. “I’ve got some news that will probably surprise you. It’s going to put you in a tough spot, but I hope you’ll wish me well.”

“Oh?” Jackson’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Does this ‘news’ have anything to do with my sister?”

Had Cat already told?

“Yeah, actually.” Hank’s body flushed when an image of her naked body glimmered before his eyes, a memory he didn’t want Jackson to suspect.

“So she agreed to go out with you?” Jackson waved his hand in the air. “I already told you that’d be great news. Not like you need my permission, anyway.”

“Well, that’s not exactly what’s happening.” Hank frowned at how he’d bungled the opening of this little talk.
Just come clean.
“She and I are going into business together.”

Jackson’s brows scaled his forehead. “What?”

“Cat fell in love with my furniture designs and proposed a partnership. I design and build, she brands and sells.” Hank scowled at
Jackson’s dismayed chuckle. “It’s not a joke.”

“Sorry.” Jackson composed himself. “No doubt you build beautiful
furniture, but Cat doesn’t know the first thing about that business—
or
any business, for that matter. How’d she convince herself and you
that
she’d be a good partner?”

“You don’t give her enough credit.”

“Oh? So she came to you with a business proposal. Backed up her ideas with data about target markets, competition, fixed costs? Her pro forma projections look reasonable?”

Maybe Cat hadn’t quite fleshed out that much detail, but she’d presented a reasonable-sounding approach. “She did research and devised a plan that allows us to ease in without taking a huge risk.”

“Ease in? Right there’s a problem. You can’t ‘ease in’ to a business and expect to succeed. You’ve got to go all-in, twenty-four seven.” Jackson shook his head, disgusted. “All due respect, wouldn’t I be the better partner? I’ve started and run a successful small business, I have built-in clients, and we’ve worked well together for several years.”

“And in all that time, you’ve never once expressed any interest in my furniture, or proposed this kind of arrangement. Plus, based on our history, it might be hard for you to view me as a partner instead of an employee.”

“As if I ever treated you like some ‘employee.
’
” Jackson shoved off the desktop, resentment brewing in his eyes. “I see what’s going on. I’m losing my top guy because Cat’s restless, and you’re so hot for her, you’ll do anything she asks just to make her happy.”

“First of all, that’s damn insulting to both your sister and me.” Hank glared at Jackson. “Maybe you think Cat’s flighty, but I think she’s as capable as you or David, and she’s obviously got a lot of drive and determination to have achieved such success on her own.”

“You don’t have to sell me on her strengths. I know she’s a hard worker and enthusiastic, and she can charm the pants off anyone when she wants her way. But please tell me some part of you questions her plan? Having a recognizable face and name doesn’t automatically translate to sales, especially in a business unrelated to her fan base. Cat’s got street smarts, but she didn’t finish college, she’s got
no
business experience—not even a summer internship—to draw from, and she’s as stubborn as me. Trust me, she’s going to end up getting you both in over your heads.”

“I believe in her, Jackson. More to the point, I believe in myself. This is a chance for me to finally do something
I
want for a change. Something I’d only fantasized about until recently. Don’t I deserve that shot? Haven’t I earned it?”

Jackson held Hank’s defiant gaze for a full minute before he let out a long sigh. “Of course you have.”

“Besides, you’ve admitted in the past that you didn’t know everything when you started this business. You took a risk and worked hard because it mattered to you. Well, Cat and I can do that, too.”

The two of them stood there, arms crossed, in silence. Hank could tell Jackson’s mind was reeling, but he had no idea what his friend would say or do next.

Jackson gulped his beer and tossed it in the trash. It landed with a clank. “So when are you bailing on me? Do I at least get two weeks notice to find a replacement?”

“Actually, I was hoping to keep working for you nearly full-time for a few months, until Cat and I are established and have a pipeline of projects.”

“Wait a sec. You want to keep working for me
and
try to start your own business?” Once again, Jackson’s expression grew incredulous. “I’m saying these things out loud and yet you don’t react in a way that indicates you hear how batshit crazy you are to think you can manage a full-time job, a start-up,
and
all your family shit, Hank.”

When Jackson put it so bluntly, it did sound unreasonable, if not flat-out preposterous, but Hank had committed himself now, so he couldn’t back down.

“It’s basically what I’m doing now by working at Cat’s while still working for you. And it gives me a chance to continue training Doug and whoever you hire to replace me while allowing me to maintain a steady income for my family’s sake.”

Jackson planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. He crossed to the other side of his desk, blankly staring at a stack of paperwork before knocking his knuckles against the desktop twice.

“Tell my sister, next time she asks for a favor, the answer is no. Some gratitude she’s shown after I agreed to get you to do those damn closets. Honestly, I’m a little hurt by her plotting all this without any warning or discussion. And you—you’re supposed to be my good friend, but you also cut me out. Guess it just proves my theory. Can’t trust
anyone.
” Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Six weeks, Hank. That’s it, then you’re on your own. If I’m going to lose you, I need to hire someone soon, and I can’t afford to keep both of you on the payroll indefinitely. And if this really is your dream, I’m doing you a favor by cutting you off. No safety net. You need to live and breathe the business. That’s the only way you two are going to succeed.”

Six weeks?

He’d overestimated his value to Jackson, because he hadn’t foreseen being cut loose so easily. Was Jackson simply striking back out of anger, or was this his way of calling Hank’s bluff?

Only six weeks of steady income. Without it, how would he pay the bills, Jenny’s tuition, Helen’s hourly wage?

“Good luck, Hank.” Jackson grabbed two more beers and handed one to Hank. “You deserve your shot, I guess. I hate the way you two went about it, but for your sake, I hope it works out.”

No turning back now.

As Hank watched Jackson drain his bottle in one continuous guzzle, a chill consumed him.

“I guess this makes it all official.” Hank finished reviewing the last organizational document.

“Once we sign on the dotted line.” Smiling, she glanced at her watch. “Esther’s going to stop by to be a witness. Later today I can set up company accounts and deposit start-up money.”

“I wish I could help with that.”

“You’re contributing all the talent. Without you, there’s no business, so stop feeling bad. After Vivi and I get the pictures we need, I’ll get the website up and running and start chatting on my social media. I’ll also get a brochure made. Did you check out the co-op space? I’m ready to send a check if you’re all set.”

“I ran out on Sunday and took a look. They’ve got some great equipment. Seems pretty relaxed and friendly.”

“So we’ll sign a short-term lease and send a check.” Cat added another item to her to-do list. “By the way, I was able to pull a few strings and nab a little showroom space at that international furniture expo in Chicago next month, which could give us exposure to fifty thousand design professionals. We can take the table you built for Vivi and some of your other pieces to showcase your talent. It’s a gamble to rush like this, but another opportunity of this scale won’t come around until next year.”

Hank settled his hand on her thigh and rubbed his thumb back
and forth. “If I haven’t said it before, thanks. I know I’ve been reluc
tant, but I’m grateful for this opportunity. I hope I don’t let you down.”

“You won’t. Let everyone doubt us. We can’t fail. You’re too talented, and I’m too determined. We’re in this together now.” Of course, she’d never tackled anything so far from her limited area of expertise.

She might not have utter faith in love, but she did have faith in him. And his faith in her gave her confidence.

“I did some prototype drawings.” When he handed her the drawings, he brushed his fingers against hers, which made her consider tossing aside work and dragging him to bed. “But before we barrel ahead, I want to talk more about your idea of churning out a few products over and over . . . I’ve got issues.”

Before he could continue, her phone rang.

“Hold that thought.” She looked at the screen and then at Hank. “It’s my agent. Need to take it.”

Hank nodded and sat back.

“Hey, Elise. What’s up?”

“I think I’ve found a great licensing opportunity for you. It’s not clothing or beauty products, but it works nicely with your reputation for elegance and good taste. Are you familiar with Elena Bautista’s jewelry? She works mostly with eighteen- and twenty-four-carat gold and semiprecious stones. Very contemporary, feminine style—akin to Marco Bicego’s work. I think it’s a perfect fit, and she was more than a little excited about designing a line under your name.”

“Oh? That does sound interesting, but I’m not sure it’s right for me.” Cat grimaced, having not yet informed Elise about her plans with Hank.

“I know you wanted to be in on the nuts and bolts, but while the company will still be hers, she is willing to give you some input in the creative aspect of the line. She’s offering five hundred thousand up front, and a six-percent royalty on sales for two years, with an option to renew.”

“Five hundred thousand up front?” That lump-sum payment would further feather her nest egg and give her an injection of cash to devote to Mitchell/St. James. Could she do both? Cat noticed Hank lean forward, observing her, so she turned slightly away. “Based on her average sales, what would I make annually, and what other obligations would I have?”

“She recently signed a distribution agreement with Neiman Marcus. I don’t have all the sales data yet, so I can’t ballpark a number, but there would be an exclusivity clause attached to this deal.”