Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (4 page)

Along the way, she chugged another glass of champagne, enduring the bubbles stinging her throat as punishment for her lapse of control. For allowing desire to dominate her behavior yet again.

Would she never learn?

Prior entry continued

Tell me, Mom, what man would want to date a menopausal woman my age? An infertile woman who could become sick from hormone treatments, lose her hair, and suffer hot flashes, dry skin, decreased sex drive, and mood swings? Would any man choose adoption or egg donors rather than simply find a healthy woman who can give him kids? Based on my experience with love, it seems unlikely. Please, God, don’t make this my fate.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

A
fter the bartender handed him a seltzer with lime, Hank immediately swallowed half the contents of the glass. The hint of citrus tasted good as it slid down the pipe. Exactly what the doctor ordered to sober him up, which he needed to do pronto. Being even slightly buzzed made him too vulnerable, and he refused to fall for Cat’s phony flirtations again. He’d already learned the hard way she had no real interest in him or his relatively humble lifestyle.

Scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he tried to rid himself of the yearning she always aroused. Like the moon caught in earth’s gravity, he couldn’t escape her hold on him.
Hopeless moron
.

It had all started when he’d first seen her pictures in Jackson’s office, before they’d ever met. Her dramatic brown eyes had distracted him every time he sat across the desk from his boss. The fact Jackson happened to be her brother should’ve convinced him to steer clear. But he’d been too much of an infatuated dumbass to heed common sense because, even in those family snapshots, she looked like a fantasy, with her bronzed skin, shiny long hair, and perfectly chiseled face. He suspected he wasn’t the only guy in the crew who engaged in a few inappropriate daydreams following any meeting with Jackson.

He’d finally met her a few years after he’d first seen those pictures, when she attended one of Jackson’s informal get-togethers at his house in Connecticut. Hank had been too shy and tongue-tied to approach her, but then she’d surprised him by homing in on him early that evening.

“Hi! We’ve never met. I’m Jackson’s sister, Catalina.” She’d held out her graceful hand. A jolt of energy had slammed into his body from the brief contact.

“I’m Hank.” He’d managed to say two whole words, which had been a feat, considering the thoughts running through his mind at the time.

“So, Hank, what’s it like to work for my brother?” She’d placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “You can tell the truth. Your secret is safe with me.” Her warm breath had wrapped around his neck like a sensual caress. Then she’d slowly retreated, staring at his mouth for a heartbeat before meeting his gaze. He’d felt her eyes fondle him like a hot pair of hands, and it had nearly brought him to his knees.

Since he hadn’t yet mentioned his job, he figured she’d asked Jackson about him. Her notice had made him feel damned good, too. Throughout the rest of the night, she’d continued touching his arm when she spoke, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and pretty much sticking by his side for the better part of the party.

Of course, then, like now, she’d drunk a little too much alcohol, which explained a lot of her behavior, in retrospect. But at the time, he’d thought he’d hit the jackpot.

Throughout that evening, he’d learned she was a loyal Giants fan, exercised ninety minutes each day but hated every second of it, loved her big-city lifestyle, considered social media a necessary evil, and never backed down from a dare.

Even more appealing were the glimpses of tenderness he witnessed, like the way she idolized her brother. And unlike Jackson’s then-girlfriend, Alison, Cat had hastened to cohost his party by cleaning up after careless guests and extending herself to ensure shyer ones were included in conversations. The mix of larger-than-life mannerisms and thoughtful, attentive gestures had dazzled him. He’d never met any girl like her—or at least not the way she’d presented herself that night.

As the hours ticked by, she’d decided to crash at Jackson’s rather than deal with the late-night train to the city. Jackson had left Hank and Cat alone at the end of the party in order to take Alison home.

“I should probably head out so you can get some sleep,” Hank had said halfheartedly, savoring the touch of her knee on his thigh as they sat side by side on the sofa.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“You’re not ready for bed?” He’d grinned at her as she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.

“Well, when you put it that way . . .” She’d playfully raised her eyebrow then leaned forward to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Sure, I’m ready.”

It was all the invitation he’d needed. She’d been priming him all night. He’d become powerless to resist her even though it meant fooling around with his boss’s sister in the man’s house.

The next thing he knew, those plush lips of hers were glued to his. Both of his heads had nearly exploded from the desire coursing through his veins, but he’d restrained every male instinct and taken things slowly.

If she hadn’t been Jackson’s sister, he would’ve gone as far as she allowed. But even in his lusty daze, he’d been wise enough not to cross too many lines, although they’d both been partially disrobed by the time Jackson’s headlights streamed through the living room windows. Thank God for that brief warning.

He’d still been flying damned near the sun when he left Jackson’s house, so he hadn’t minded the blue balls. Even now he needed to loosen his tie just from remembering the taste of her mouth and silken skin.

Cat had suggested they get together again soon, so he’d left her
three messages throughout the following week. To his disappointment,
she’d returned none of his calls. Looking back, he’d been foolish to con
sider her casual proposal a declaration of real interest. A famous model dating a carpenter? He’d obviously been drugged by those kisses.

On top of that humiliation, he’d spent the next few weeks wondering what Cat had told her brother, and what, if anything, Jackson suspected. When Jackson later mentioned Cat had reunited with the jerk she’d been dating on and off, he’d finally realized she’d been using him as a distraction.

Months later, he’d endured almost an entire week of watching her prance around in bikinis and silky nighties at her family’s vacation home right here on Block Island. He’d had to work hard to conceal his alternating feelings of irritation and lust so that no one else, most especially Cat, suspected his enchantment. They’d kept a polite distance with one another—he’d known she was still entangled in the yo-yo relationship with her boyfriend.

Hank wouldn’t lie and pretend some part of him hadn’t felt avenged when her ex got arrested on assault charges. But for the most part, he’d been extremely upset Cat and Vivi had been in such danger, especially after learning the guy’s lawyer succeeded in keeping him out of jail. Cat’s decision to date an asshole, when she could have her pick of any number of decent men, boggled his mind.

He’d come to this wedding convinced he would no longer feel this tug in his chest. Things had been going pretty well until Jackson interfered and made off with Amy.

Yeah, things had been going okay until Cat cuddled up against him during their dance. In an instant, he’d started falling back under her spell. Hell, at that point he’d been counting the parquet floor tiles to keep from reacting to her drop-dead bedroom eyes and those wine-colored lips.

Holding her in his arms again had been the most exquisite form of torture. When she’d purred in his ear, his insides had exploded like a Roman candle.

But she’d been drinking champagne all night, and experience told him that dance was merely another “Cat”-and-mouse game. She may think of him as some lowly carpenter to toy with, but he wouldn’t be her fool twice.

“Is that scowl for me?” Jackson slapped Hank on the back. “You know I was just having a little fun. I’m not really trying to steal Amy from you.”

“I might be pissed if I actually considered you any kind of threat,” Hank joked, thankful Jackson had no idea what he’d really been thinking.

“Well, we’ll never know because, unlike my brother, I’m not looking for love.” Jackson’s gaze veered across the crowd to David and Vivi, who were approaching them. “But I’m glad some people find it.”

Hank ignored Jackson and stole a glance at Cat, who was sitting beside her father at her table with her chin propped up in her palm. Her unfocused eyes stared into the distance while she mindlessly tapped her pinky finger against her cheek. When he’d first seen her tonight, she looked brittle, like she might snap in two at any time. Curiosity pricked him, but whatever had her preoccupied wasn’t his business.

“Hey, you.” Vivi tugged at Hank’s forearm. “How about dancing with the bride?”

David nodded in agreement, so Hank set his glass down on the bar and led Vivi to the dance floor. Her big smile made him grin. Meeting her last summer had been a breath of fresh air. She might be a pip-squeak of a girl, but the size of her heart more than made up for her tiny stature.

“Thank you for dealing with my dad.” Vivi’s gaze drifted to the floor. Her suddenly somber expression kicked his heart. No bride should have to worry about anything on her wedding day, especially Vivi. “I didn’t realize he had so much to drink so early.”

“Forget about it and enjoy the night,” he said, raising her chin with his fingers. “Nothing but good memories, okay? Besides, I have to eat some crow. Seems you were right about David after all. He never once looked at Laney the way he looks at you, and now here we are dancing at your wedding.”

As the words left his mouth, he wondered if he could remove the foot he’d just stuffed in there when mentioning David’s ex-girlfriend. Fortunately, Vivi seemed unaffected by his blunder.

“You should always trust my instincts.” She grinned. “Speaking of which, I saw you and Cat dancing. Does that mean the frost has thawed?”

Hank hadn’t thought his and Cat’s indifferent behavior last summer had been particularly noteworthy, but apparently he hadn’t been as nonchalant as he’d hoped. Had Cat told Vivi anything about their past? Annoyed with himself for giving a damn, he spun Vivi away and back again. “Your friend Amy seems like a nice girl. What’s her story?”

Vivi frowned before she wiped the expression from her face. “Well, Amy is a good friend and a thoughtful person. A lot like you, actually.” She then pinned him with her saucer-eyed stare. “She’s great, Hank. But wouldn’t you rather be with someone who challenges you, who pushes and surprises you . . . who excites you? Because I know someone who might do all that and more.”

Vivi glanced over to where Cat was sitting.

“Why do newlyweds always try to play matchmaker?” Hank asked before playfully dipping her as the song ended. He kissed her cheek, cutting the conversation short. “Congratulations, Mrs. St. James. I’m really happy for you.”

He led Vivi back to her husband, but she promptly stole Jackson for a dance. Hank had never warmed to David, who still struck him as a bit aloof. However, they’d spent a little time together whenever David had visited Jackson throughout the past year.

“Thanks for dealing with Vivi’s father, Hank. I’m sure you prevented a disaster tonight.” David sipped his drink. “We owe you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

David glanced toward the crowd and said, “Jackson seems more scattered than normal. Everything okay at work?”

“It’s been busy.” Hank watched Jackson and Vivi rather than meet David’s eyes.

Due to the financial strain caused by his mother’s illness and his baby sister’s college tuition, he shouldn’t complain about the extra hours and extra pay. But Hank knew enough about David to recognize his indirect way of checking up on his younger brother.

Hank wasn’t without concerns for his friend, either. “We’re struggling to keep up with all the deadlines he’s promising to meet. It’s been stressful.”

“Have you discussed it with him?” David’s brows gathered.

“Once.” Hank folded his arms across his chest, chuckling. “The brief discussion ended with a reminder of who’s the boss.”

“His behavior has me concerned. Of course, anytime I bring it up, he throws my own mistakes in my face and tells me to butt out.” David stared across the room at Jackson and muttered, “Shutting others out is an unfortunate family trait.”

Hank already knew this much about Jackson, and suspected it about Cat.

“How’s Vivi handle that?” Hank braced himself for David’s response, but David merely looked into his glass and grinned.

“I don’t have to hide from Vivi.”

Hank could’ve sworn he saw David smile. He stifled a chuckle at his private conclusion that no one could hide much from Vivi, even if they tried.

“Jackson will sort himself out.” Hopefully the fallout wouldn’t be disastrous, but Hank didn’t want to come between the brothers. “Excuse me, I need to step out for a second.”

With a brief nod, he left the tent to steal a few minutes of peace and quiet.

Inside the men’s room, two lawyers from David’s firm were literally engaged in a pissing contest. Their loud voices suggested they were already half plastered.

“She’s smoking hot,” said a man who looked to be in his late twenties. “Too bad she’s David’s sister.”

“Yeah, he could block your bid to make partner if you mess with her. Lucky for me, I’m already a partner.” The slightly older, paunchy man flashed a victorious grin. “Guess nothing is standing in my way.”

“You’ve got no chance of scoring with a girl like her.” The slick-haired younger lawyer zipped his fly. “In fact, I’ll bet you five hundred bucks you can’t close the deal.” He stepped away from the urinal.

Hank’s jaw clenched, but he kept a cool head.

“You cocky son of a bitch,” replied the older man. “You’re on. In fact, double or nothing I close the deal before you.”

His competition barked a laugh while glancing at the giant gold Rolex on his wrist. “The reception ends in an hour.” He stuck out his hand to his friend. “May the best man win.”

“The best man . . .” The other man cracked up. “A wedding pun?”

Assholes
.

“I sure hope this bet is a lousy joke,” Hank interjected. “You two aren’t actually planning to take advantage of David’s sister at his wedding, right?”

“Who the hell are you?” the younger one demanded.

“A friend of the family.” Hank leveled him with a cold look.

“Of course we’re joking,” said the older man. He shot his pal a “shut the fuck up” look while slapping Hank on the shoulder. “No harm, no foul.” He dragged the other punk toward the door. But before the arrogant young prick left, Hank heard him mouthing off.