Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (13 page)

“Probably, but I don’t have a furniture company, so there’s nothing to promote.” When she didn’t appear dissuaded, he pointed toward the house. “I need a steady paycheck as long as my mom’s alive and Jenny’s still in college.”

“You’ve supported your family for so long. It’s remarkable, actually.” She casually crossed her arms and cocked her head to the left. “Don’t you think that, after everything you sacrificed for them, they’d welcome the chance to return the favor?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, but nothing’s impossible. Especially not when you have help. Don’t you want the chance to pursue your own dreams?”

“I have a lot of dreams, Cat. Not just this one.” He crossed his arms to show he was equally resolved to his position as she was to hers. “Believe me, the choices I’ve made have given me more than I’ve lost.”

Her dubious expression coupled with silence forced him to defend his remark.

“My family loves and respects me thanks to the ‘sacrifices’ I’ve made. When my mom dies, I’ll be at peace because of the way I’ve cared for her. All of it—everything I’ve done—has proven I’m a man who can be counted on, who doesn’t walk away when things are hard. That means something to me.” He looked around his shop. “I do love building furniture. But even if I had my own business and a brand worth bragging about, it wouldn’t give me those other things. Trust me, I’m okay with my choices.”

Cat stared at him, whether in admiration or utter bewilderment he wasn’t quite sure. “Fine.”

Living with five women had taught him that
fine
pretty much meant the opposite. “Why does it even matter to you, Cat? You’re a hotshot model with plenty of money, so why fuss around with a little furniture shop?”

She fingered a chisel and worried her lower lip. “When I was young, my dad always bragged about David’s IQ and Jackson’s athleticism. He even acknowledged Vivi’s artistic talent, but apparently all I had to offer was this,” she swept her hand from head to toe.

Her sheepish expression kicked him in the gut, but he refrained from interrupting her. Cat St. James had chosen to confide in
him.
His heart thumped at the realization.

“When I was ‘discovered,’ I grabbed the opportunity to prove I could be as successful as my brothers, even if my only asset was my face. But after the initial thrill of it all, I’ve never gotten any real satisfaction from modeling.” She sighed before continuing.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative of my career, and it’s important to me. Still, I regret dropping out of college, especially now, when I’m on the downside of the industry. I want—need—a chance to reinvent myself. To discover whether there’s more to me than the way I look. I assumed you’d jump at the chance to be your own boss, and figured we could help each other fulfill these needs.” Cat glanced up, her expression chagrined. “You probably think I’m a whiny brat complaining about my life when, compared to yours, it’s so easy.”

“Quit thinking for me, Cat. You’re never right.” He searched her face, but she kept her gaze averted. Why couldn’t she see he found
this
woman—soft, honest, thoughtful—far more appealing than the aloof “cover girl”? He stepped closer, yearning to comfort her. “You don’t sound whiny. Wistful, maybe.”

The heavy pulsing of his heart charged the atmosphere in the garage. As if drawn to him by the invisible thread of his need, Cat drifted within inches of his body.

“You said earlier that all I do is play games.” She met his gaze, her wide eyes filled with resolve. “Well, I’m serious about this business idea, Hank. My gut is telling me this could be a great change for both of us. Before you say no, could you at least give it some thought?”

“When I accused you of playing games, I meant the personal kind. And frankly, I’m more interested in that kind of relationship than a business one.” Holy shit, he said that out loud. He watched her chew on the inside of her cheek.

“Although it may not seem like it,” she said, “I’ve always been attracted to you.”

Heart in his throat now, Hank clasped her hand and stepped even closer. “Is that a yes?”

A dark shadow clouded her features. Then, as if in reflex, she regained her composure. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Why not?” He wondered about her ex. “Are you . . . do you miss Justin despite what happened?”

“God, no.” She scowled. “I’m over him, and I hope he’s over me.”

“Is there a reason to think he’s not?”

She hesitated long enough to rouse his suspicion. “Not exactly.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, actually.” She looked away.

Instinct urged him to push, but he respected her privacy. “Okay, but you’d go to Jackson or David if he bothered you, right?”

“He won’t bother me,” she stated, sounding like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

He let it go in order to steer the conversation back to the possibility of
them
. “So if there’s no another guy, what’s the problem? Don’t you trust me?”

Her eyes grew misty, but maybe they were reacting to the dusty environment. “It’s not that, Hank.” She blinked twice. “I’m grateful that you’re willing to overlook our past, and I’m flattered by your attention, but you don’t really
know
me. I’m not who people think I am, and anyway, I think we should keep things platonic if there’s any chance we could be business partners.”

When he didn’t answer, she chuckled. “Ah, so that’s off the table, too. Don’t worry. I didn’t really think you’d go for it. You don’t need me to do this someday. Still, I had to try.”

He grabbed her hand. “Listen, Cat. No matter what your dad or anyone else thinks, I can see there’s more to you than that gorgeous face. No one succeeds at your level without grit, determination, and smarts. You’ll make a great business partner for someone. The timing just isn’t right for me.”

She looked on the verge of jumping into his arms. If his truck hadn’t roared into the driveway, he would’ve scooped her up and carried her off right then and there.

“I should go,” Cat said, her body still close to his.

“Hold on.” Hank reached for her cheek, but Jenny burst into the garage.

“Oh, sorry!” Embarrassed, she turned away. “Saw the light and figured Hank was out here working.”

Cat and Hank stepped apart, the moment lost. He’d grown used to the utter lack of privacy, although it irked him tonight. “It’s fine, Jenny.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Jenny swirled around and grimaced. “Don’t mind me.”

“I really should leave.” Cat smiled at Jenny. “Long drive.”

“See you inside,” Hank said to Jenny before he refocused his attention on Cat. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

They all filed out of the garage, and Jenny headed toward the house.

Cat fell in step beside Hank. Together they meandered down the driveway in silence.

Uncertainty, and lots of other emotions, weighed on him. She liked him but didn’t want a
relationship
. If he proposed something more casual, would she go for it? He’d never been one for flings, but given her mercurial nature, maybe it would work better that way. No matter how much he wanted to resist her, she was an itch he needed to scratch.

Cat unlocked the car with her remote, so Hank stepped ahead and
opened the door for her. Before sliding into the seat, she turned and touched his arm. He liked her touch—wanted more. He covered her
hand with his, enjoying the stirring sensations rippling up his forearm.

Her face brightened unexpectedly. “When will you be starting on my armoires?”

“I think I’ll come on Monday. Need to pick up the wood and do some rough cutting this weekend. Once I start, I’ll still need to spend a few hours out here now and then to oversee Jackson’s projects.”

“He relies on you that much?”

Hank nodded.

“Jackson values loyalty.” She looked down the street and then at him. “One last thought before I go. You might be an amazing finish carpenter, but in that profession you’re still replaceable, right? There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of carpenters in Connecticut that Jackson could hire. On the other hand, your exceptional talent for furniture design—that’s not replaceable. It’s a gift you shouldn’t squander.”

Is that what he’d been doing—squandering his talent?

He didn’t like that perception one bit, but like a drop of poison in a body of water, it seeped throughout his mind.

Maybe for Cat, throwing a little money and effort to test the waters wasn’t a big deal, but Hank didn’t have that luxury. Failure could be catastrophic to his family’s future. Then again, her proposal was a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Could it work?

“You’re determined to tempt me, aren’t you?” And oh, did she ever.

“How am I doing?”

Pretty well, considering he hadn’t shot it down completely, at least not in his own mind.

“Tell you what, I’ll give your idea some more thought.” He glanced back at his house briefly, trying to envision a different life.

“You will?” She lit up. “Consider yourself warned, Hank. Next time you see me, you won’t know what hit you.”

He almost laughed, because he already felt that way whenever he saw her. A mixture of hope and doubt brewed in his stomach.

Mom,

I think you’d really like Hank. He’s open, like you. Even with a life full of adversity, he isn’t hardened or resentful. He’s forgiving, earnest, reliable, fair . . .

He deserves good things now—big and small—and I’m going to make sure he gets them.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

D
espite Hank’s protests yesterday afternoon, he caught up with Jackson on-site at the Caine’s house. Jackson had been a great boss and friend for years, and Hank knew his friend needed his help. Or perhaps he just had a guilty conscience because he’d spent all night considering Cat’s crazy idea.

While discussing the installation of the final touches in the kitchen, he noticed dark circles beneath Jackson’s eyes. “Jackson, you look like shit. You need some sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Jackson rubbed his right hand over one side of his face. “You’re one to talk, anyway. When’s the last time you got enough sleep?”

“That’s different. I’m on call twenty-four seven, but at least when I do sleep, I’m sober.” He rested his hands on his hips and kept his gaze on Jackson.

“Don’t start again.” Jackson raised his hand to stop Hank’s lecture. “You never complained when you were hanging out as my wingman. Now I can’t remember the last time we went out for a beer.”

“It’s been a while,” Hank admitted. “But I’m not interested in drinking or chasing skirt. My mom’s health has been in a free fall the past six months. It’s getting more risky to leave Jenny in charge.”

“Sorry, buddy. The situation with your mom sucks, but all the more reason you need a woman to help take the edge off.” Jackson flashed a devilish smile. “Come on. Come out with me this weekend.”

“I’ve got plans this weekend.” Hank tilted his head. “Have to start working on your sister’s project.”

“I wish I hadn’t needed that favor, but I worry about her. You get that—right—you’ve got sisters. Still, thanks for helping. I owe you big time.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” When he recalled how Cat had looked at him in his garage, he couldn’t stop a grin from forming. “More than fine.”

That last comment slipped out before Hank remembered Jackson wasn’t just a friend, he was also Cat’s brother.

“Oh?” Jackson’s newly alert eyes bored into Hank’s. “Are you interested in my sister?”

“Is that really a surprise?” Hank’s neck grew hot.

“You’d think after David fell for Vivi, nothing could surprise me. Seems I was wrong.” Jackson rubbed his chin, offering no particular encouragement.

“You think I’m not good enough for her?” If Jackson objected, it would crush him.

“Hell, Hank, you’re the best guy I know. She couldn’t do better.” Jackson crossed his arms in front of his chest and sighed. “That, however, might be the problem. How can I put this? Her past boyfriends all took as long as she does to get dressed, and spent a lot of money jetting her to exciting places—you know, assholes like Justin.”

“Maybe she’s learned her lesson.”

“Maybe, but are you two compatible? Her life’s full of pseudo-friends and parties, and all that Instagram and Twitter bullshit. I can’t picture her hanging out with you in Norwalk every weekend.”

“You’re talking about her like she’s shallow.”

“No, she’s not shallow. She’s got a big heart, even though she hides it from most people.” Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck it. What the hell do I know? If she’s interested, then take her at her word.”

“I never said
she
was interested.” Hank’s muscles tightened in defense of the onslaught of unwelcome, if well-intentioned, advice.

Jackson grinned. “Oh boy, I’ve been down this road with friends before—many times. Shit, Hank, something tells me you’re heading for trouble.” Jackson chuckled. “I’ve got no advice for you, either. She’s my sister and I love her to death, but she’s no cakewalk. Cat’s like a hedgehog, you need to handle her the right way or she’s damn prickly.”

“Doesn’t matter. Chances are nothing will come of it anyway.”

“Stranger things have happened. Look at David.” Jackson slapped Hank’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got places to be.”

When Hank finally arrived at Cat’s on Monday after a hellish commute to Manhattan, he double-parked to quickly unload his truck, leaving Cat’s doorman to guard his supplies while he went to find parking. Once he returned, he loaded the tools and planks of wood onto a dolly, which he rolled into the service elevator. He parked the squeaky cart at her door and knocked.

No answer. He knocked again and listened for footsteps. Still no answer.

What the hell?
He checked his watch. Eight o’clock. She’d known he was coming today.

Behind him, Esther opened her door. “When I heard someone in the hall, I looked through my peephole. What a nice surprise to find you outside my door.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Morganstein.” He smiled at her blatant perusal of his person. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Catalina is, would you?”

“She usually runs in the morning, but I’m sure she’ll be right back if she knows you’re coming. She’s very excited for you to begin.”

“Desperate for storage space.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s the only reason she’s in a good mood lately.” Esther winked.

Another matchmaker in the mix. Could everyone be conspiring?

Before he could respond, Cat strode off the elevator, humming whatever song was playing on her iPhone.

Short, black spandex shorts and a neon-pink jog bra barely covered her body. A thick white headband kept her hair off her face. The rest of her silky hair was pulled high into a ponytail.

She saw them and waved cheerily, oblivious to his frustration and, admittedly, fascination. Her skin gleamed with sweat and he could see the muscles in her legs and abs contract as she moved toward him.

Hot damn
. Temptation weighed heavily.

“Good morning!” She smiled as she pulled the earbuds from her ears. “I didn’t realize you’d be here this early. Hi, Esther. Do you need something?”

“No, dear. I’m just keeping this handsome young man company. I’ll leave you to it, now.” She smiled and closed the door.

“She wants you baaad!” Cat giggled while unlocking the various dead bolts. Hank couldn’t stop staring at her tight ass. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” Hank followed behind her, pulling the dolly into her entry and then closing the door. He focused on the task at hand in order to avoid slamming her against the wall and peeling off those wet clothes. “I’ll be getting here early each day, so we should work something out if you won’t be here to let me in.”

“Okay. Maybe I should get you a key?” She looked at the pile of wood and clasped her hands together, oblivious to the fact she had him hot and bothered without even trying. “I can’t wait for you to get started.”

Hank pulled the dolly toward her bedroom, which she’d emptied in preparation for his arrival.

“I’ll cover the vents to cut down on sawdust traveling throughout the condo.”

“Okay, thanks. Now I really need to shower.” She winked at him and strode into the master bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Hank stared at the door, imagining her stripping out of those skimpy clothes, wishing he actually did have the X-ray vision she’d teased him about last week.

What would she do if he slipped into the shower and helped her wash those hard-to-reach places? Hell, he’d just managed to give himself one of his bigger hard-ons. Shaking his head in frustration, he unloaded the dolly and took it back down to the lobby.

When he returned, he nearly bumped into her as she came out of her room wearing nothing more than a towel. The sight and scent of her nearly naked body almost knocked him flat on his ass.

“You’re blushing, Hank.” Cat stood still, her long hair hanging heavy and wet down her back.

Either his imagination was working overtime, or she was planning to get him so turned on he’d agree to anything, including her business proposal. He didn’t know which made him more irritated, her plan or the fact that it could work.

“As I’m sure you intended.” Two could play her game. Her goal might have been only business, but his was personal. He brushed his finger along the length of her arm until she trembled. “You’re shivering,” he whispered in her ear, lingering there for a moment without saying more. Then he pulled back. “Go get dressed and let me get to work.”

She stared at his mouth before disappearing into the guest room. Hank smiled and then shackled his strong urge to chase her down and toss her on the bed. Mutual lust was a weak substitute for what he really wanted, and what he wanted was probably as far-fetched as her business plans.

Deep down he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d only get close enough to get his heart ripped out.

Get to work.

By noon, Cat had popped in at least four times to check on him. She’d offered him something to eat or drink, asked if it was too hot or too cold for him, and even commented on his musical taste.

Her minidress covered no more than the damned towel, and she made sure to come close and bend and twist right near his body. Each interruption cost him at least ten minutes in daydreams before he could refocus. So it didn’t surprise him at all when she came through the door again.

“Lunch break?” She leaned against the doorjamb.

“Already?” Hank surveyed how little he’d accomplished that morning.

“Come on.” Her knee swung side to side while she spoke. “I have some surprises for you.”

More mouthwatering than an icy beer on a sweltering day.

“Okay, I’ll take a quick break.” Hank set his hand plane down and grabbed his lunch bag.

“You won’t need that. I have something better.” She summoned him with her pointer finger and wicked grin. “Follow me.”

Like a lemming, he trailed after her, trying and failing to tamp down his anticipation of her next ploy. A tangy aroma wafted down the hallway as he drew nearer to the kitchen. Barbeque? Cat stood by a kitchen chair and gestured toward the pile of ribs in the center of the table. “Voilà!”

“My favorite,” he uttered with surprise then looked at her. “How’d you know?”

“You mentioned it last summer.”

“Did I?” And she remembered? That had to mean something. He noticed coleslaw, corn bread, and a cold beer on the table. “Cat, this is really thoughtful. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“I don’t cook!” She laughed. “But I’m a real whiz with takeout. Now sit.”

She went to the sink and returned to the table with a glass of water.

“Guess you’re not going to help me eat this Fred Flintstone–size portion of ribs?” He plucked a few off the pile and put them on his plate.

“I’m meeting Vivi for a late lunch, but trust me, passing on those ribs is not a sacrifice.” She shook her head and drank her water. “Now, if your favorite food were chocolate mousse cake, then I’d be tempted.”

“Duly noted.” He wasted no time digging into lunch. As he licked his fingers, he asked, “Why all this, Cat?”

“Because you’re always taking care of others.” She dipped her forefinger into a dollop of extra barbeque sauce and tasted it with a slow lick.
Oh, yeah
. He wanted some of that. He eyed the barbeque sauce and quickly thought up a few creative uses. She dipped her finger in the sauce again. “I thought you should know how it feels to have someone look after you.”

Dazed, he had to drag his gaze away from the finger in her mouth and take an extra few seconds to process her response. “It feels really good.”

His remark earned him a gigantic smile, which flipped his heart over a time or two. Hell and damnation, Jackson was right. He was in trouble.

He ate quickly so he could get back to work.

“This was a real treat. Thanks. But honestly, don’t put yourself out on my account.” He tossed the bones in the garbage and rinsed his plate. “I should get back to work.”

“Hold on. I have one more thing to show you. Can you sit for five more minutes?”

He did as he was asked while she pulled a sheet of paper from her fancy purse. She laid it in front of him and asked, “What do you think of this name?”

A walnut-brown rectangle read: “Mitchell/St. James, handcrafted fine furnishings,” written in a modern, golden-yellow font.

He stared at her, unsure how to respond.

She eyed the paper again. “Once you promised to consider this, I
got a burst of creative energy. All weekend I kept thinking of a name to
convey upscale, unique furniture while also taking advantage of what
ever cache my ‘name brand’ lends. But it didn’t seem right to focus solely on my name because
you’re
the designer. Then it hit me . . . our names work nicely together, and as the talent, you get top billing.”