Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (5 page)

“That guy should mind his own fucking business. She can decide for herself who she wants to screw.”

The vein in Hank’s temple was throbbing by the time the two idiots left the bathroom. His first instinct was to tell Jackson, but he doubted Vivi would appreciate a brawl in the middle of her reception.

He considered warning Cat, but in her condition she might also cause a scene. She wasn’t his girlfriend or even his friend. It shouldn’t matter to him whether or not she hooked up with someone tonight, or any other night. So why was he scouring his hands in the sink as if they were covered with a flesh-eating bacteria?

Hank went back to the reception, wishing to return to the pleasant evening he’d been enjoying before his brief dance with Cat. Now he had to figure out how to protect her without ruining the whole damned party.

He passed by the scumbag lawyers, who’d already coaxed Cat into
joining them at their table for a drink. His eyes met hers. She looked
resigned—dammit, she looked sad—which made no sense. She turned
away from him and continued her conversation with the jerks.

Hank dug the tips of his fingernails into his palms but kept walking. He couldn’t rush in like some B-movie cowboy. He needed a plan.

Back at his table, Amy and other guests were chatting about summer vacation plans. He sat and politely listened while keeping one eye on Cat. Her laughter appeared exaggerated—unlike the girl he’d first met last year—but he couldn’t guess at the reason for her charade.

“How about you, Hank?” Amy asked. “Are you going anywhere exciting?”

He hadn’t been away since last summer’s trip here with Jackson’s
siblings, which he’d only been able to take because the accommodations had been free. This overnight stay had tapped out his disposable income for a while.

Even if money weren’t in short supply, his mother’s rapidly deteriorating condition handcuffed him to his home. Hell, this thirty-six-hour excursion had already required multiple check-ins with her caretakers.

“Nah. Summer is my busiest time at work.” With a wry grin, he huffed. “I rarely get away.”

“Kind of the opposite of my teaching schedule,” Amy conceded, looking at him from beneath wispy blond bangs. “Maybe you could plan a winter trip to an island and start the New Year off right.”

“Not a bad idea,” Hank said. Hell, if he could actually find the money and time to go away for the holiday, he wouldn’t mind some female company. But he had a better chance of winning the Powerball than taking a vacation this Christmas.

Hank compared Amy’s warm smile and feminine voice with Cat’s edgier vibe. Vivi’s advice floated through his mind, goading him, so he shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He rested his chin on top of his fist, listening with half an ear to the discussion around him. All the while he kept watching Cat and those lawyers.

Now they had her doing shots. He couldn’t decide which was more repulsive, the bet itself, or the depths to which those assholes were willing to sink to win. All he did know was that he’d make sure neither succeeded.

“David’s sister sure seems to capture everyone’s attention,” Amy said, pulling him from his preoccupation. “Is she as nice as she is beautiful?”

Hank’s gaze snapped back to Amy while scrambling for a suitable reply. “She’s not easy to know.”

“Ah,” Amy sighed. “Beautiful and a challenge. Few men can resist the lure of that particular conquest.”

Few men indeed
.

As the party started to die down, David and Vivi began making the rounds to say goodnight to their guests before they departed for the St. James family home situated a few miles up the road. Jackson had mentioned how the rest of the family had opted to stay at the hotel to give the newlyweds privacy.

“It seems the party’s over.” Amy looked at him expectantly.

If he weren’t concerned for Cat’s welfare, he’d probably ask her to join him at the bar for another drink.

“It’s winding down,” he agreed.

“Guess I’ll be heading to my room,” she hinted. “How about you?”

The invitation in her voice tempted him. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, and he was sitting on six tons of pent-up sexual tension tonight. He glanced around the room.

Jackson was MIA, and David and Vivi weren’t paying attention to Cat. If Hank left, she’d be easy pickings for those bastards who were hell-bent on winning a bet. Well, on winning a bet and living out every guy’s fantasy. Not that either of those guys needed the thousand bucks anyway.

He didn’t owe Cat rescuing, but if she got hurt, it would wreck the wedding memories for Vivi and the rest of the family.

Who are you kidding?
He didn’t want her to be hurt, and he didn’t want to think of her in bed with one of those jerks tonight, either.

“Think I’ll check in with Jackson and see what he’s planning to do. Cigars will probably be involved.” He grinned and took a long pull from his beer while trying to ignore the stab of guilt her disappointed expression caused.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “See you in the morning?”

“Sure thing,” he replied. “Sweet dreams.”

Damn
. What in the hell was he doing? He should be spending his time getting to know a nice girl. Someone grounded, who wanted the simple life he did—one filled with kids and holidays, bikes and baseball games, and a partner to curl up with at night. Instead, he was babysitting a complicated woman who’d already brushed him off once and whose jet-setting life seemed anything but normal.

His fingers drummed against the tabletop. Minutes later, Cat staggered away from the dickhead gamblers.

Lucky break.

Hank leapt from his seat, trailing her at a distance. He lingered around the ladies’ room entrance until she stumbled back through its door into the hallway. She tripped on the hem of her gown, but he caught her before she hit the floor.

“Oh,” she said over a tipsy giggle. “Clumsy me!”

He released her arm once she stood fully, but then she raised one leg to start to take off her shoes, and landed flat on her ass. Whatever shots she drank with those men had launched her right to wasted.

Crimson flooded her cheeks as she looked up at him from beneath her thick lashes. For the first time since he’d met her, she appeared vulnerable and uncertain. His heart rammed against his ribs at the sight, and irritation quickly surrendered to a sudden, fierce wave of protectiveness.

“I think it’s time you went to your room.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet, keeping one arm around her waist for support. “Come on.”

“Is the party over?” Her warm breath swept below his ear and across his neck, teasing the fine hairs of his nape. With each encounter he became more convinced she was some kind of test of his willpower. That or a cruel joke God was playing on him.

“It is for you.” He began walking her toward the stairwell. Along the way, they came across Amy and another woman talking in the lobby. Amy glanced over, the beginning of a smile forming, but then caught sight of Cat on his arm.

Feeling like a jerk, he started to say, “This isn’t what it looks like,” at the exact time Cat mumbled, “Uh-oh.”

Cat continued to stagger, even with his support. Then she stopped suddenly. Her eyes drifted from Amy to Hank. With her moist lips pressed against his ear, she whispered, “Can’t blame her for wanting you. You look sexy in a suit.”

Ignoring Cat when she was attached to his side and coaxing tingles all over his skin was a challenge he suddenly realized he might lose. He didn’t even need to close his eyes to picture her naked body wrapped around his, their arms and limbs entwined in an erotic dance.
Steady.

“Stop talking and keep walking.” He propped her up. “What room are you in?”

She beamed at him. “Hmm?”

He clenched his jaw, fighting mounting temptation. “What room, Cat?”

“Two Seventeen.” After struggling to assist her up the first flight of steps, he lifted her into his arms to carry her the rest of the way. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. Her spicy perfume invaded his nostrils, fighting for control of his brain.

At her door, she fumbled inside her purse for the room key. He put her down, prepared to turn and run, but she wobbled again and burst into another fit of giggles while unlocking her door.

There is no God
. Heaving a sigh while rubbing his hands over his face, he then picked her up and carried her over the threshold.

“Here comes the bride,” she giddily sang out.

Her husky laughter and twinkling eyes affected him like a shot of tequila. The more time he spent alone with her, the more trouble he invited. He strode through the room and deposited her onto the bed, determined to conquer this unholy addiction.

“Hang on.” He went directly to the minibar, retrieved a bottle of water, and cracked open the lid. “Do you have any aspirin?” he asked as he turned back to face her. Then he nearly spilled the water all over himself.

In those few seconds, she’d managed to unzip her gown and partially disrobe. Somehow she’d gotten tangled up while slinking out of the contraption of a dress. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her strapless, sheer lace bra, which revealed a hint of her dark nipples as they strained against the see-through fabric.

Cat didn’t have big breasts, but they were big enough, and perky. His mind went blank, although he was vaguely aware of the fact his trousers began to feel two sizes too small.

“Don’t just stand there.” She grimaced while wrestling with the gown. “Help me out of this.”

Her command wasn’t meant as a come-on, but the corners of his mouth quirked upward. He replaced the lid on the bottle and set it on the nightstand next to a leather journal with a ribbon tied around it.

Cat kept a diary? Now that surprised him . . . a lot. Damn, would he
love
to read it and finally discover what really went on behind those eyes of hers.

“Lie back and I’ll grab the bottom,” he ordered, unable to conceal the unexpected rasp in his voice. She lifted her hips as he tugged at the dress and, a few seconds later, she was lying on the bed in nothing but her racy, sheer underwear and high heels.

Mother of God, his mouth went dry.

He couldn’t show her less respect than he’d demand another man give his sisters. He couldn’t. Focusing on that thought, he merely removed her shoes and then pulled back the covers.

“Scoot under here.” He thrust the water bottle at her once she crawled into bed. “Drink it, Cat. I don’t envy the headache you’ll have tomorrow.”

She kept her eyes locked on his while she guzzled the drink. The enticing stare down lasted for what felt like minutes while he battled his conflicting desires and morals. Somehow his morals prevailed.

She set the bottle on the nightstand and nestled down into the bed with a smile playing on her lips.

“Good night, Catalina. Sleep well.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” She shifted her weight up onto her elbow. Thick falls of hair cascaded over her shoulders as she patted the edge of the bed. “Come back.”

He crossed his arms and faced her. “Why?”

“Please,” she said, sitting up in bed.

The blankets now bunched around her waist. That familiar longing rushed back once again, tempting him beyond bearing. He could give in, crawl beside her to take what she offered. Use her the same way she would use him. But he’d never been
that
guy, and it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d allow Cat to turn him into one.

Hank inhaled slowly then sat at the edge of the mattress while rubbing his hands back and forth across the tops of his thighs.

“Thanks for helping me,” she said.

Her expression reminded him of the way his sisters used to look when suffering through one of his lectures. He stopped himself from touching her. “You’re welcome.”

Her uncertain smile twisted him up inside as she reached one hand up and fingered the ends of his hair. “Kiss me goodnight.”

All the blood drained from his head and raced to his crotch. The relentless throbbing between his legs urged him to comply despite his better judgment.
Just a kiss.

As if watching himself in a dream, he saw his fingers caress her cheek. She raised her chin and parted her lips, and he pressed his mouth against hers. He gave over to the moment, to taste her once more, to slip his tongue inside her mouth and tangle with hers. The faint taste of champagne and honey overwhelmed his senses as he grazed her lower lip with his teeth.

Time slowed. Every part of his body came alive. She bulldozed her fingers through his hair while moaning, engulfing him in desire.

“Like I remember,” she whispered against his skin. He’d been teetering on the verge of making a gigantic mistake, until her words summoned bitter reminders of the last time he fell for her games. Abruptly, he grabbed her wrists and pushed back.

“Hank!” She fell back into her pillow. “Stay.”

“No.” He had to get out of her room before hell finished freezing over. “Good night.”

Rising from the mattress, he reached over and turned off the lamp. His gaze lingered on her diary again, but he retreated from the bed.

“You’re mad about before,” she muttered, half asleep already. “But trust me, I did you a huge favor.”

He froze in his tracks. Glancing over his shoulder, his breathing slowed as he absorbed her words and the glimpse of self-doubt she hid from the cameras. As apologies go, it wasn’t much. Would she have admitted it if she were sober? Did she really believe what she’d said? Did it even matter anymore?

Her gentle snore ended his musing. He crept from her room. Standing in the hall with his palm pressed against her closed door, he waited a minute longer before shoving his hand in his pocket and heading down the hall.

Mom,

I’m a mess. A drunk-and-awake-at-two-a.m. mess. How’d I get to my room? And why does my butt hurt? Did I fall? I hope no one snapped a picture. Glad you won’t be here to deal with the aftermath of whatever degrading candid photos end up on Twitter and Instagram. Then again, you were always the best at talking me off the ledge in a crisis.

I still miss you so much.