Cat's Lair (4 page)

She didn’t draw attention to herself. Not ever. Thanks to Ridley the entire room was aware of her as more than the barista, a body behind the coffee machine. She sighed and started the cleaning process. The coffee-house shut down at three and emptied. This time Ridley didn’t leave. He sat in the corner. She glanced up at him and scowled a couple of times, jerking her head toward him when David looked at her.

“He’s got to go, just like any other customer,” she hissed.

“I can hear you just fine,” Ridley said. “I’m walking home with you, so get used to it, Kitten. Just get your work done so we can get out of here.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she demanded.

“No.” He didn’t even look up.

She shook her head, exasperated. Of course Jase would have to act like an ass in front of him and he’d use that to prove his point. She could have handled Jase, no problem.

She accepted her half of the tip money, shoving it into the pocket of her jeans. That much cash made her very happy. It was worth putting up with jerks like Jase until three in the morning to have extra money. She used every little bit she had to get extra lessons from Malcom. She’d been practicing a lot with her gun. That required time at the local range as well as ammunition. It didn’t come cheap.

Ridley fell into step beside her. She shot him a look from under her lashes. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“If you feel as if you owe me something, say thanks.”

“I feel as if I’d like to hit you over the head because clearly you aren’t listening,” she countered. It just burst out of her when she’d promised no sass. No attitude.

Just like earlier, his eyes immediately focused on her. He didn’t slow down. Didn’t miss a step, but suddenly his golden eyes were fixed on her with the same amused speculation. Total interest. And this time there was something else smoldering in his eyes. Something hot and sexy that sent a wave of fire rushing through her body, burning through her nerve endings and centering squarely between her legs like the hottest fireball imaginable.

Her breath hitched in her lungs. She kept her eyes on the sidewalk, shocked. Embarrassed. Terrified. He brought out something wild in her. Something uninhibited. Something she wanted no part of.

“I’m listening, woman. I’ll always listen to anything you have to say. You’re just talking a lot of crap right now so I’m dismissing what you have to say as the crap it is. Jase and his friends could just as easily be waiting for you. You don’t want them following you home, knowing where you live.”

“I’d know. I always know. I’ve been followed before and I handled it.”

He stopped abruptly, his fingers settling around her wrist, dragging her to a halt. “What the hell did you just say?” he demanded.

She blinked up at him. Major mistake revealing that piece of information. She should have kept that to herself. She licked her suddenly dry lips. Her heart pounded. She didn’t know how to defuse his anger. In his quiet, cool way he was angry, and that was more terrifying than if he’d yelled. It wasn’t his business, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Something you need to know about me, Kitten. I don’t have a lot of patience. When I ask you something, I need you to answer. It isn’t that damned difficult. Just tell me what happened and how you handled it.”

His gold eyes burned like a flame, boring through her body. She licked her lips again. His hand tightened.

“And stop that. That’s going to get your ass in trouble. Just talk, Cat, say what I need to hear.”

She leveled a glare at him. “You are not in the least bit Zen, Ridley. Not even a little bit, and you have crushed one of my fantasies. I have to tell you, that’s just plain sad because I could work with that for a very long time.”

He blinked. He never blinked. Never broke his stare. That was one of the first observations she’d made about him, and he definitely blinked. Amusement crept right through all the sparkling anger.

“You thought I was Zen?” He began walking again, taking her with him, walking so close she could feel the heat of his body. He hadn’t relinquished her wrist, rather his hand slid down her arm to take possession of her fingers.

“The Zen
master
,” she said, “Which, by the way, was really cool, and now you’ve blown that all to hell.”

“So you were having fantasies about me?” The amusement definitely deepened.

She sent him a look of sheer reprimand from under her long lashes. “Newsflash for you, Ridley,
every
woman has fantasies about you. That’s your gift. But the fact that you just blew one of the biggest parts of
my
daydreams about you took your hotness down a notch or two. Zen was very ‘it’ for me. You rocked that cool vibe.”

“You have fantasies and daydreams about me?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know you’re freakin’ hot. The way you look at women, there’s not a doubt in my mind they’re all over you, and you’ve got that hound dog disdain.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Woman. You cannot tell me I’m the thing of fantasies in one breath and say I’m a hound dog in the next.”

She gave him a serious look. “They aren’t mutually exclusive. You are, right? A player? A hound dog? The kind of man who kicks a woman out of his bed right after sex and then loses her phone number?”

His eyes laughed at her. “I don’t take women to my bed, I’m usually in their beds, and I get up and leave. They know the score or I wouldn’t be in their beds in the first place.”

She nodded. “Yep. A player and a hound dog. And just so you know, telling you about my now completely blown fantasy does not mean I’m giving you the go-ahead to make a move on me. Fantasy and reality are two very different things.”

“I see.”

Catarina secretly hugged herself. She had forgotten it was fun talking to another person. She didn’t allow herself that luxury, not ever anymore. Well, sometimes with Malcom, but not like this. Not just saying anything that came into her head. Watching Ridley’s face lose the stone-carved effect and replacing it with laughter was fun. Just fun. She’d forgotten what that was like. Or truthfully, she hadn’t known about having fun in the first place.

They rounded the corner of the second block and started down the third before she remembered he was holding her hand. Before she realized she hadn’t taken a careful look around her to make certain no one was following. The smile inside slipped away. Vigilance was far more important than fun. She actually liked Ridley, even though she was certain he was too beautiful for any woman to ever keep. She didn’t want to be responsible for anything happening to him.

Catarina tried to slip her hand out of his, a subtle retreat, nothing overt that he would notice. He noticed. His hand tightened around hers and he looked down at her immediately. He had eyes that saw everything. He didn’t fail to see her gaze scanning the rooftops and the fire escapes as they passed the buildings.

“What is it?”

His voice was low. Velvet. So soft and perfect she nearly closed her eyes against the mesmerizing sound. She was fairly certain he could growl, she’d heard him do it once. Now, she thought he could probably purr as well. For some reason, the moment it came into her mind, her body reacted, going feminine on her. She decided it was him. Ridley just had a way with women and he was casting a spell.

“Nothing.” She was back to mumbling, her sense of fun fading along with her confidence.

She felt vulnerable and exposed walking beside him. Alone she could stay in the shadows, close to the building if there were no openings, slipping back toward the street if she couldn’t see directly into the alleyways and doorways. Ridley walked straight down the center of the sidewalk, head up, shoulders straight, and he looked like a man no one ever messed with. She was certain most men would take one look at him and scurry away.

Rafe Cordeau was not that kind of man. He would walk right up to Ridley, staring him straight in the eye, and without a single word slit his throat. Or his belly. Her fault. She glanced at their linked hands. Rafe would kill him. There would be no discussion and no way to stop him.

Her heart began to pound and she tasted fear in her mouth. “I don’t know you well enough to hold your hand and it makes me uncomfortable.”

It wasn’t a lie, although she’d enjoyed the moment with him, the moment of fun she’d always remember. Still, she was uncomfortable holding hands because she liked it – maybe a little too much. But she wasn’t a woman who could ever walk openly down a street with a man and feel comfortable. And she wasn’t naïve enough not to realize Ridley Cromer was way out of her league, even if she didn’t have hell following her around.

Ridley’s piercing gaze searched her face and then their surroundings. His eyes moved in a search pattern around them, the alleys, the streets, the alcoves and doorways. Only then did he look up toward the rooftops and fire escapes as she’d done.

“You’re afraid, Kitten, but not of me. Whatever it is you’re afraid of, know that when you’re with me, you’re perfectly safe.”

Supreme confidence. Ridley was a man who had been in dangerous situations, she could tell that. In some circumstances he was probably a very scary man, but no one was in Rafe’s class. No one. She couldn’t explain him to anyone, they’d think she was insane. They’d lock her up and make it easy for Rafe to come get her.

What had she been thinking? She’d let walking with a very attractive man override her good sense. Fun wasn’t worth getting someone killed.

She sent Ridley a quick look from under her lashes. It was there again. The expression that told her she’d made a terrible mistake revealing this side of her. She’d suppressed it for so long, it just came out, as unexpected to her as it was to him.

“I’m used to being alone, that’s all. I’m careful. I don’t want you to think I was flirting with you, I wasn’t.” And she hadn’t been. She didn’t even know how to flirt. She didn’t look at men. She’d made an art out of finding everywhere to look but at any man in the room with her. She’d trained herself from the time she was eleven years old.

“You don’t have to try to flirt, Kitten.” Ridley’s voice was soft, gentle even.

For some reason the way he spoke made her insides melt a little. Her body reacted to just the sound of his voice. She bit her bottom lip hard to try to counteract the effect.

“You smile at a man, or look at him with your gorgeous eyes, and he’s a goner. That’s just the reality of it.”

She refused to wrap herself up in his compliment. She’d never had compliments before. Not ever. Not personal. About her coffee maybe, but not like this. She couldn’t remember anyone being so fun. She’d had her first kindness from Malcom. Now she had her first best time with a man. She couldn’t keep him, but she could have the memories, and when she was alone,
then
she’d wrap herself up in his compliments and savor them.

The warehouses loomed on the next block. They turned the corner and crossed the street, angling toward the center one. It looked old from the outside. Old and tired. A single light illuminated a heavy door. There were three cargo doors, all padlocked. Ridley scowled at them.

“You didn’t tell me about the time you were followed. I’m still waiting to hear that story.”

She snuck a peek at his face from under her lashes. He was like a dog with a bone. She hadn’t distracted him at all. She sighed. Loudly. “Seriously, Ridley, it isn’t important.”

“That’s bullshit, Cat, and you know it. You’re scared of something. It’s not all that hard to tell. You walk everywhere, which means you don’t want to drive your car…”

“It
doesn’t
mean that,” she hissed. She stabbed at the number pad a little viciously, punching in the code to unlock the door. “Gas costs money.”

She was horrified that she blurted out the truth. It was just that he had such an edge to his voice, as if he knew all about her. She wasn’t doing her best job of running him off and she knew it was because she was lonely and he made her feel alive. Okay, happy even. There, she’d admitted it to herself. But it had to stop. She paused before she pushed open the door, her hand on the doorknob.

“Thanks for walking me home. I can take it from here.” She used her best dismissive voice. She’d had a
lot
of practice using that particular tone, and it was one of her best weapons. It didn’t even faze him. He kept moving, crowding her, pushing her inside.

“Ridley. Seriously. You did the white knight thing. We’re good.”

“We’re not good. What kind of man would let you walk into a warehouse without checking it out first to make certain you’re safe?” His hands settled on her waist and he picked her up, stepped inside and put her to the side of the door. “You stay right there.”

It was pitch-black inside, the way it always was. She had heavy drapes on all the windows to block out every bit of light so she could sleep during the day. That didn’t seem to faze him, although he swore under his breath as he took a careful look around.

“Light switch?”

For some reason, she thought he had a super power and could see in the dark. Maybe it had been the slow, careful perusal of the empty space, but she just stood there, not breathing, waiting for something, her heart pounding and her mouth dry.

“Kitten.”

He just said one word. But it was his voice.
How
he said it. The gentle, amused tone. She felt his voice slide in under her skin, slip into her bloodstream and rush straight like an arrow for her most feminine core. She hadn’t expected it.

Instantly there was heightened awareness. She smelled him. That faint masculine, almost wild smell, mountains and jungles and maybe a rain forest or two. He was so solid, all flowing muscle, his shoulders wide and his hips narrow. He moved with fluid grace, and heat radiated off of him, enveloping her.

She stepped back from his sheer potency. His hand instantly went to her waist, slid to settle on her hip.

“Catarina, I’m just going to make certain you’re safe.”

Thank God he thought she was frozen with fear, not flooded with female hormones at the worst possible moment. She cleared her throat, trying to get past the unfamiliar hunger rising like a tidal wave. The itch under her skin was terrible. It came in a wave, rising and falling, and deep inside something she feared above all else gave a lazy stretch, making its presence known.