How Cat Got a Life (7 page)

“Kitty is sad,” Tammy said, her mouth trembling.

“No, sweetheart.” Cat leaned over and kissed the child’s satiny cheek. “Kitty is happy because today she has met you.”

“Why don’t you go and get
cro-cro
?” Brock withdrew his arm from Cat’s shoulders and settled Tammy on her feet. “We can teach Kitty to play.”

Tammy scampered away. Brock turned around. He reached out and gently wiped away a tear from the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry about the other night. I knew you’d be here. I rang up to check how Dalton is doing and heard you were with him today. I sought you out to apologize.”

“There’s no need to apologize for anything.”

“I’m apologizing anyway. Perhaps, when you’re in town next, I could take you out to dinner.”

The sounds around the yard seemed to fade. His warmth and strength enveloped her, not a sexual heat, but something deeper, real and lasting.

“I…I’d like that,” Cat answered in a low murmur.

Tammy trundled back across the lawn, dragging behind her two small croquet mallets.

“Sheri teach Kitty,” she said and dumped the mallets down.

“Come along, girls,” Brock collected the mallets and pointed to the playing field behind the low red brick building. “Let’s go and play happy families.”

****

Tammy squealed with joy as Brock gripped her around the waist and flew her like a plane. The sun baked overhead and coated his body with perspiration. He felt edgy, itchy, and the sensation crawled inside him, just as it did on his skin.

He should have left long ago, he’d only intended to drop by, but it felt as if an invisible string tied him to the playground.

“Okay, here goes,” Cat said and lined the mallet against the ball.

The chinos clung to her backside as she leaned in to strike. Brock propped Tammy on her feet and stepped away. He felt his muscles tighten. For an hour, he’d been fighting an erection.
Not in front of a child.
He repeated the words in his mind like a mantra. So far it had worked.

The mallet connected, sending the ball rolling through the gate. Cat gave shout of victory and raced to retrieve the ball. Brock turned his head. He didn’t dare to look in her direction. Didn’t she understand that her blouse sagged at the front, allowing him a peek at her breasts every time she bent down?

“Three-two to the girls.” She loped back and grinned at him. “Well, Sheriff, where’s you sporting prowess? Unless you hit the ball through the gate—she pointed at an impossible angle behind a tuft of grass—you’ve been beaten.”

Well and truly beaten,
Brock thought. He shook his head as he took aim and swung the mallet. How on earth had he been able to resist her on Thursday night? Did he have ice water in his veins instead of blood? It tore him up to know that he’d had the opportunity to lose himself in her soft body, and he’d passed it by.

“Whoops,” Cat said as he missed the gate. “You’ll just have to be satisfied with being second best.” Her green eyes sparkled in the sun. A dusting of freckles he hadn’t noticed before warmed her pale skin.

Never.
The word soared in his mind.
I’ll never want to be second best for you.

Tammy scampered across the lawn.

“Sheri win?” She beamed up at him.

“No, sweetheart.” He scooped her up. “You and Kitty win.”

“Sheri kiss Tammy.” She pursed her mouth and closed her eyes.

Brock pecked her lips. He hadn’t quite decided if the child’s sudden obsession with kissing suited him or not.

“Sheri kiss Kitty,” Tammy demanded and reached a hand out for Cat.

“Here we go again,” she said and walked up to him. It had to be the fourth time, and so far he’d limited himself to a brush on her cheek or forehead. Now, Cat imitated Tammy, pursing her lips, then rose on tiptoe and rubbed her mouth against his. It wasn’t even really a kiss, but it sent a pull of desire tugging deep inside him.

“I have to go,” he said, and handed Tammy to Cat. “Remember, when you come back again, let me know, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

As Brock walked away, he cursed himself for the millionth time. Weeks, even months would go by before he got another chance with her. Worse, she might never get in touch when she returned. What about all those other men he was supposed to have prepared her for, those dates she planned to go out on? His hands clenched into fists as he considered the prospect of her with someone else.

He’d been a damn, damn fool.

****

Sleep wouldn’t come. Cat turned over and checked the time on the alarm clock. Ten past ten. She’d gone to bed early in preparation for the morning flight home. Every time she closed her eyes, Brock filled her vision. Smiling tenderly, his guarded amber eyes turning warm and inviting, the way they had as he watched her striding across the sunny field of grass.

Karen’s words echoed in her mind.
Brock’s a good man, you know. Don’t write him off just yet. Give him a chance.

Remember, when you come back again, let me know, and I’ll take you out to dinner
. His voice reached out to her, as if he’d spoken by her bedside

The end of term when she’d return seemed forever, and in a flash Cat knew she couldn’t wait that long. Couldn’t wait at all. She flung the covers aside and jumped out of bed. Using one hand to dial Dalton’s cell phone, she began to pull on a pair of leggings and a tight long-sleeved top.

“Dalton? Where are you?”

“I’m in the bar on campus. What’s up?”

“Have you been drinking? Is your judgment impaired?”

“I only just got here,” Dalton said with a defensive huff. “And they know I’m only sixteen. They won’t serve me anything stronger than ginger ale.”

“When does the freshman Clock Tower Challenge officially end?”

“Midnight tonight.” His voice fell to a secret whisper. “No one made it this year. Are you suggesting…it will be dark.”

“Climbing is mostly by feel anyway, and I think there are some floodlights.”

“Are you saying…?” Dalton paused, let out a muffled whoop of excitement. “I’m just sitting here on my own. No one will take any notice if I leave. If you’re sure, I’m up for it.”

“Get your gear and meet me in the parking lot outside your dorm. I’m on my way over.”

“Cat, you’re the best stepmother a boy could have. I’ll go get my rock boots.”

Cat’s lips curved into a tight smile as she pressed the button to end the call.

Brock Leonetti would find out what it was like to be chased.

****

“Do it again.” Cat shook her arms to ease her cramping muscles while she watched Dalton leap and windmill in front of the alarm sensor on the wall.

“The damn thing’s not working,” he said in a growl. “What do we do?”

“We’ll carry on to the top. There must be another alarm by the clock.”

Cat tipped her head back and surveyed the brickwork on the tower in front of her. They had made it without incident to the flat roof of the main building, where climbers normally triggered the alarm. The Clock Tower Challenge was to make it up to the top in the time it took for the law to arrive. According to the rules, the climbers had to stop when the sheriff or one of his deputies stepped out of their vehicle.

“We’ll be disqualified,” Dalton said. “We’ll get to the top, but there’ll be no time pressure.

“We can’t be sure,” Cat protested. Although the darkness covered them, occasionally a car drove by, and she kept her voice down. “Even if the alarm isn’t going off, it might have sent a signal to a dispatcher.”

She started up ahead of Dalton. Her hands crept over the brickwork, finding tiny cracks for her fingers to slip inside, giving just enough purchase to hoist her weight up to the next foothold, where her rubber-soled boots clung to the small ridges in the vertical surface.

“Are you okay?” she called down to Dalton.

“Cakewalk,” he answered. “Hurry up. I want that ledge for my handhold.”

The application of skill and balance and strength pumped a sense of triumph through her body and mind. There had been no signs of Brock or one of his deputies by the time they reached the open chamber at the top of the clock tower. Breathing heavily, Cat flopped inside.

“Where’s the alarm?” Dalton circled the small square room.

“There.” She pointed to the infrared sensor on the wall.

“It’s not blinking.” Dalton moved his hand side to side in front of the small plastic box. “The fucking thing’s broken.”

Cat frowned at him. “Don’t use that word.”

“Why not?” Dalton complained. “Don’t you realize? Unless you’re prepared to down-climb, we’ll be stuck here until morning.” His face clouded. “Shit, if no one comes within shouting distance, we might be stuck here until Monday morning when people arrive for work.”

“I hate down-climbing,” Cat said. “Much too dangerous in the dark.”

“So, what the heck do we do?”

The night chill wrapped around them. Cat surveyed their surroundings. No source of heat, no toilet, no food, only limited shelter. “Try the trapdoor,” she told him.

Dalton crouched by the wooden square in the floor that provided access to the staircase inside the tower. “I don’t need to try. You can see it’s padlocked.”

“Try it anyway.”

She waited while Dalton yanked the metal ring that served as a handle.

“It won’t even budge. Shit. I’ve arranged to go down to the shore tomorrow with Marybeth’s family. They want to leave at seven. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Cat took out her cell phone from the zippered pocket on the front of her top. A crack ran along the plastic casing, and the display wouldn’t switch on. “Damn. I’ve broken my phone. I slammed my side against the railing when I swung over the top. I heard a crunching sound. It must have been the phone in my pocket.”

“I’ve got mine,” Dalton said. He extracted the phone from the pouch tied around his waist. “I’ll dial 9-1-1.”

“You can’t.” Cat grabbed his arm. “Brock would kill me.”

Dalton lowered the phone. “What else do you suggest? It’s a cold night. Sooner or later we’ll have to call anyway, and it’s better to call now, before we have to make things worse by peeing in the corners.”

He raised his hand, scrolled down the stored numbers. “If you prefer, I can call the sheriff. He gave me his number when I started working at the children’s home.”

Cat closed her eyes. It had seemed such a good idea two hours ago, but Brock would be furious. She had wanted another week with him. Instead, he might end up throttling her.

“Go on then,” she muttered. “Tell him I’m with you. He might calm down a bit on his way over.”

Chapter Five

Brock parked by the entrance to the Town Hall and jumped out of the car. Of all the harebrained women in the world, why did Catherine Bridgewater have to be the one to invade his life, turning his beliefs upside down, firing up every male instinct he possessed?

He found the pair of them shivering in the open chamber at the top of the clock tower.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted before he fully emerged through the trapdoor. He scowled at Dalton. “You were supposed to keep her out of trouble.”

“Sorry.” The boy had the audacity to grin. “I tried.”

Brock turned to Cat, and the fear that clenched in his gut almost brought him to this knees. “Don’t you understand you could have been hurt?”

She stood before him, arrow-trim in the black leggings and top, hugging her arms for warmth. A forlorn expression flickered over her face as she stared up at him, eyes full of uncertainty.

“Christ, Cat.” He gathered her into his arms. “Don’t you realize what it would do to me to find your lifeless body sprawled on the sidewalk?”

“Sorry,” she said. “We’re good climbers. There was no danger.”

His hands roamed her back, as if to make sure she remained unharmed. Nothing else mattered. In that moment, when he cradled her body against his, attempting to share his heat with her, it dawned upon Brock that if Cat had fallen and died, his grief would have eclipsed the pain he’d felt when he lost his wife.

“Let’s get you out of here.” His voice was gruff when he released her. “I’ve got some blankets in the car.”

Dalton stared at the pair of them, satisfaction stamped on his face.

Brock sighed. Cat’s stepson added another twist to a situation already far too complicated.

“I’ll lead the way,” the boy said cheerfully and disappeared down the steep staircase.

“You’re freezing.” Brock ran his hands up and down Cat’s arms. “You should have huddled together for warmth.”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea. He’s a teenage boy just discovering girls. We’re not related by blood, and we’ve only known each other two years. It would have been awkward.”

“I see.” He nodded his understanding. “You need a hot bath. Is there a tub in your hotel room?”