Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (3 page)

Recollections of her mother’s face and voice saturated her consciousness, drowning her in a sea of nostalgia and longing. When the fine hairs on her arms rose, she glanced around the party hoping to catch a glimpse of her mom’s loving eyes, but then tucked her chin for being so foolish.

Her father plucked the ring from the box and took Vivi’s trembling hand in his own. “I bought this ring for Graciela to commemorate David’s birth. She wore it every day until she died. She’d planned to give it to his wife one day, and I’m certain she couldn’t be more pleased than to see it find a home on your finger. Welcome to our family, officially this time.” He kissed Vivi’s hand. She surprised him by springing from her chair and embracing him. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake.

Cat squirmed with empathy at her undemonstrative father’s awkward attempt to hug his sobbing daughter-in-law. She glanced at David as he tried to hide his flushed cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of her stoic brother coming undone formed another lump in her throat.

Like him, Cat shunned overly sentimental spectacles, especially in public. She sucked down another glass of champagne and blinked until the stinging behind her eyes subsided.

Some of the guests seemed to be searching the family table, probably expecting to hear Vivi’s dad’s father-of-the-bride speech.
Oh, shoot
. The drunkard was passed out in his room.

Cat toyed with the pearl necklace lying on her collarbone, mild perspiration dotting her forehead, as she considered how to spare Vivi discomfort. Before she could formulate a plan, Hank stood at his table with a glass in hand.

Surely all the other women in the room were now taking stock of his perfectly symmetrical features—the horizontal brows, straight nose, square jawline, and sinfully formed lips.

“Unfortunately, Mr. LeBrun wasn’t feeling well this evening, so he retired early. Before he left, he told me David had been watching out for Vivi for most of her life, so he knew she was in good hands now, and would be in the future. I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate my sharing his thoughts with all of you, and welcoming David to his family. I’ve had the privilege to get to know Vivi this past year, and it’s fair to say David is a lucky and wise man.”

When Hank’s clear green eyes lingered on Cat, she tensed with awareness. He paused, as if he wanted to say more, but then he didn’t. Instead, he raised his glass. “To David and Vivi.”

“To David and Vivi,” answered the collective voices of the guests.

Vivi blew Hank a kiss for his chivalry. Once again tonight, Hank’s quick thinking had spared Vivi undue embarrassment. In that moment, the appeal of a good guy struck a little too close to Cat’s heart, causing her heart rate to soar.

But it would pass.

She’d make sure it would pass.

After the main course, Cat excused herself from the table to find the restroom. She reapplied her plum-colored lipstick, adjusted the strap of her dress, and then drew a deep breath. She hadn’t heard from her agent this week to confirm whether her fragrance endorsement contract had been renewed. Cat was bracing for it to go to someone younger, or some up-and-coming actress, which made each day of waiting for news seem an eternity.

A week ago she might not have cared as much. But yesterday’s doctor’s appointment had awakened her, had sharpened the teeth of apprehension. Having lost control over her own body, she now needed to take charge of something in her life. It may as well be her career.

She leaned closer to the mirror and traced the fine lines around her eyes with her fingertips. The bronzed complexion she’d inherited from her mother now showed the subtlest signs of aging—signs that would accelerate if, in fact, she were menopausal.

As she studied her face, she couldn’t help but compare herself to the fresh new talent so eager to replace her. Soon enough they’d shove Cat aside, just as she had others a decade earlier. The fierce competition produced a paranoid mindset, hardening her and making genuine friendship a rare gift. She wouldn’t miss that aspect of the industry whenever she did finally call it quits.

Yet, having walked away from college without a second glance, modeling was her sole accomplishment, the only thing she really knew. Who would she become when she was no longer young and beautiful—when she was no longer a cover girl?

Her spine stiffened in response to the pathetic moment of fear and vanity. She smoothed her long, dark hair and straightened her shoulders.
Screw it. Time to go have fun.

Three of David’s colleagues stopped her as she passed by the bar. Their alert, hungry eyes temporarily boosted her ego, so she spent several minutes with them while downing yet another glass of champagne.

Years of runway experience had trained her to recognize their Brunello Cucinelli and Armani suits, Fendi shoes, and Prada cuff links. Cat adored fine things, whether clothing, jewelry, or furniture. Yet it was Hank who, in his off-the-rack attire, made her skin feel tight and tingly whenever he passed by.

Why now, after all this time?

Determined to stop tracking his every move, she excused herself from the other men and retreated to her table, which suddenly seemed a million miles away.

David and Vivi started dancing to Ben Folds’s “The Luckiest.” Jackson slid his chair closer to Cat while keeping his eyes on the newlyweds.

“I still find this all a little hard to believe, but they’re damned happy.” He slung his arm around Cat’s shoulders. “Good for them.”

An undercurrent of melancholy simmered beneath his tone. Naturally, he refused to acknowledge or discuss it. Standard St. James behavior.

“You haven’t been traveling as much lately,” Jackson said, turning his attention away from the dance floor. “What’s up with that?”

Cat lifted a fifth glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and sucked it down. “I’ve been working closer to home.” She feigned a carefree smile to avoid a deeper conversation about her career. “I’m starting to consider some different opportunities.”

“Different opportunities. We could all use those, huh?” Jackson’s smirk and remark caught her by surprise.

“Really?” She’d envied his autonomy—the utter control he exercised over his destiny—so his tone of dissatisfaction caught her off guard. “What changes would you make?”

But he merely shrugged a shoulder before changing the subject. “Speaking of changes, how’s the new condo?”

“It’s okay.” She sighed when Jackson turned and waited for her to go on about the Lenox Hill unit she’d impulsively purchased in order to move before the restraining order against Justin expired. “Not enough closet space. When I brought you to see it before I made an offer, I’d assumed your home-building expertise would keep me from making a bad purchase. You failed me.” She playfully cocked her brow.

He threw back a large swallow of his drink. After setting the tumbler on the table, he covered her hand with his own. “You’ve got increased security there. That’s what matters to me.”

Cat nodded, although the anonymous “love” letters, e-mails, and tweets she received from men never spooked her as much as the real-life nightmare she’d experienced with Justin.

Apparently Jackson sensed her discomfort and, once again, swiftly changed the subject with a devil-may-care grin. “Shall we take over the floor and show them how it’s done?” He tugged on her hand.

“Sure.” She rose from her chair.
Oooh, was the floor crooked?
“But promise you won’t dump me for another partner once you get me out there.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.” He winked and broadened his toothy grin. “You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Besides, Vivi invited some cute friends. Don’t deny me the pleasure of making their acquaintance.”

She pinched his shoulder and followed him into the crowd, gripping his solid arm for balance. The band was playing an upbeat Bruno Mars song when they first hit the floor.

Her brother danced better than any guy she knew, so within minutes the two of them had taken over the floor. Thumping music pulsed around them, seeping into every nook and cranny of her mind as her hands circled the air above her head. Then Jackson twirled her twice and donned a self-satisfied smirk, which made her giggle.

When the band shifted into a slow song, Jackson held out his hand and pulled Cat in for a hug. He kissed her cheek and murmured, “You ought to be here with someone special, sis. It’s time you get on with your life. Don’t let that bastard Justin steal your future, too.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” she said wryly.

“Hey, I go out with plenty of women.”

“That’s worse than not going at all,” she answered. “Ever since Alison, you’ve gone from being a serial monogamist to bordering on becoming a man-whore.”

“Ouch!” Thunderclouds briefly dimmed the light in his golden-brown eyes then scattered when he deflected by grinning. “I’m not that bad. Just keeping things light while I’m building my business so no one gets disappointed. So, let’s call a truce before we spoil the night.”

“Okay, but only because I love you,” she teased.

“Love you, too, sis.” He kissed her cheek and dipped her.

It was the first time in months he’d broached the subject of her nonexistent love life, and she was grateful he’d been willing to let it go. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her potential diagnosis. If her family learned of it, they’d suffocate her with sympathy and reassurance.

Cat abhorred
that
kind of attention.

Feeling slightly light-headed, she rested her chin on Jackson’s shoulder and sneaked a peek at David and Vivi, who clung to each other as if they’d been sculpted from a single block of clay. Cat had never known that depth of safety or closeness with any man.

Jackson suddenly pulled away to tap Hank on the shoulder. “Switch partners, pal.” Before Cat could object, he continued. “Don’t make me slow dance with my own sister like some pathetic loser.”

Cat would have smacked him for the insult, but that fifth glass of champagne she’d consumed had slowed her reflexes. The ground pitched, as if she’d tried to stand too soon after jumping off a merry-go-round. She reached out one steadying hand before willing herself to look up at Hank. Habit then took over, yanking her to the safety of cool detachment.

Hank hesitated, but Jackson prodded him further. “Come on, Hank. You aren’t afraid of a little competition, are you?”

Before anyone could reply, Jackson swiped the other woman’s hand, stealing her from Hank’s grasp and into his own arms. He flashed a victorious smirk at Hank before spinning his new partner toward a distant spot on the floor.

The heat creeping up Cat’s neck added to her increasing wooziness. Hank’s gorgeous, jade-colored eyes bore into hers, making her feel dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with champagne. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he shrugged his shoulders and held out his hand.

Part of her wanted to turn away, but the naughty part she’d kept locked away for months longed to drag her hands through his honey-colored hair. He had thick, sexy, bedhead kind of hair. She remembered its silky texture from the one time she’d played with it.

He took her hand and gently snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer while never taking his eyes off her face. A ripple of alarm curled through her thoughts from the way he seemed determined to see through her mask.

She cast her eyes downward, but since Hank still stood an inch taller than her despite her spiky shoes, she then had a close-up view of his lips. She remembered them well, too, especially his full bottom lip.

“Catalina?”

His voice snapped her out of her dreamy daze.

“Hmm?” She dared another look into his eyes then nudged a little closer. He smelled clean and fresh, not overly perfumed like so many men she knew. Suddenly the reasons she’d sworn off men or, more precisely, Hank, vanished. Refraining from brushing her nose against the bristly hairs of the two-day stubble he’d cultivated required every ounce of willpower she possessed.

“You okay?” His honeyed voice seeped through her skin.

“Sure.” She smiled uncertainly. “Unless you’d rather be dancing with your new girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” He tilted his head sideways and narrowed his eyes. “You mean Amy?”

“Is that her name?” Cat fought to conceal the bloom of envy. “Sorry Jackson stole her and stuck you with me.”

Hank paused, still staring at her. “I doubt many men would consider themselves ‘stuck’ with you. I think I can survive a dance or two, but your concern is touching.” A faint grin stretched across his face and, in a lightly mocking tone, he added, “I didn’t know you cared.”

She couldn’t be sure whether or not he’d meant to be sarcastic-funny or sarcastic-serious, but she hated feeling off-balance. If she must suffer discomfort, then he should, too. Nuzzling closer to him, she rested her cheek on his shoulder.

Tactical error extraordinaire. The strength in his broad shoulders and solid chest offered bedrock into which she could tunnel for security.

To her horror, she heard herself emit a small hum of pleasure. His body stiffened in response.

She knew she should back off, but it had been months since she’d had a man’s arms around her, let alone the arms of a man who knew how to kiss. A man who looked this good in a cheap suit, and who smelled like a little bit of heaven.

Without thinking, she swept her hand along his chest. He caught it with his own before she could bury it inside his jacket. God clearly had no mercy, because the song ended before she could protest.

Hank promptly stepped away, leaving a chill in his wake. Ever the gentleman, he nodded politely. “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Without further comment, he abandoned her on the dance floor. She watched him hustle to the bar at the opposite corner of the tent—virtually as far as he could wander without actually leaving the party.

Cat had never handled rejection or humiliation well, and tonight proved to be no exception. Her ears burned as she turned toward her table, but she summoned her catwalk strut and smiled.