Cherry Adair - Slow Burn

Her habits had been ingrained before the age of six. She and her mother had moved seven times, sometimes in the dead of night. If everything was in its place, she’d been able to grab her most precious possessions quickly.

She glanced at the clock on the stereo: 3:30 a.m.

They’d be asleep now. Cuddled together. Karen probably had one of those froufrou beds, all lace and pink pillows. Luke would look outrageously masculine and sexy, stretched out naked—

Catherine ruthlessly cut off the thought and groaned out loud. Living with Luke was going to either kill or cure her.

CHAPTER FIVE

LUKE SNEAKED INTO his own apartment like a thief in the night. He’d seen that foreign film so many times he swore he could now speak fluent German. He frowned. All the lights in the spotless living room were on. Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled it free of his pants and felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Cat to do the cleanup. Then he considered how he’d have felt if he’d stuck around. Hell, he’d done the right thing.

He almost had a seizure when he saw Cat sprawled out on the leather sofa. She wore one of his favorite ratty T-shirts and a disreputable pair of pajama bottoms he swore she’d had since she was a kid. Her cheeks were pink; her eyes glittered.

“Nice of you to drop by, Van Buren. Pleasant evening?”

“Delightful,” Luke managed to answer cheerfully. Man, was she ticked. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his chinos as he walked around the arm of the sofa. “Hey, thanks for doing the cleanup. Did Nick give you a hand?”

“Yes. By leaving.”

Cat drew a leopard print pillow, which hadn’t been here a week ago, onto her lap, still glaring. Whoops. He did a quick scan through the open door into the darkened bedroom and lowered his voice. “Are we alone?”

Her cheeks lit up like flamingo-pink neon. “Other than the entire 49ers team naked, and exhausted, in the bedroom, you mean?”

Luke took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the opposite arm of the sofa. Out of missile reach. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you’d have a man here, Cat.”

Her fiery eyebrows shot up into her bangs. “Who are you? What alien life force took over Luke Van Buren’s body?”

“Huh?”

“Whose condo is this? I hadn’t met any of these people here tonight before in my life! Do you really think I’d sleep with a total stranger? In your home? In your bed?”

“Ahh, no.”

“Then don’t ask such asinine questions, you turkey.”

She curled her legs under her and bunched up her hair in her fist. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He remembered that brief, tantalizing flash of cinnamon and cream, and almost licked his lips. Yep, Luke thought. A good thing he’d stayed out.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” he asked mildly. What was the point in sitting in a movie theater all night only to came home and find her wide-awake, sexy as hell and in his face?

“I just finished shoveling everything into the dishwasher.”

The hectic color had left her cheeks. Her eyes looked bruised and kind of sad, Luke thought. They would have been looking a damn sight sadder if he’d hung around much longer at the party.

“I would’ve cleaned up in the morning, Cat.”

She hugged the pillow and snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“So what did you think of Ted?”

She shrugged.

“Allan?”

She did the so-so thing with her head.

“Either of the Bobs? Any of them?”

Cat unfolded her legs. She was close enough to touch. The scent of her body, warm, female, Catherine, made him dizzy.

“Come on, Cat.”

“Hey, don’t rush me. I’ll keep you posted. You’ve given me enough to work with for now.” She stood looking down at him. “How’d your evening with Karen go?”

“Great.” The pits. Karen had not been a happy woman when he’d left her at her door.

“She seems nice enough.”

“Pretty, smart. She’s a lawyer.”

“Lovely,” Cat told him coolly. “She can do your prenup if you two get married.”

“She knows that’ll never happen.”

Luke rose. They were no more than a foot apart. Desperate to steal a kiss from those sweet pink lips, he knew she’d deck him with the pillow she clutched to her midriff.

“Ever heard of common law?”

“This is the second time I’ve dated her. Besides, Nick and I have The Bet, remember?”

Cat shook her head, slapping him in the face with twenty pounds of hair. The honey-scented strands lashed his cheeks before springing back home. He wanted to grab her by that hair, wrestle her back to the sofa...and get a swift kick in the cojónes for his trouble.

“That is one of your more ridiculous bets, Luke. What if one of you falls madly in love and wants to get married before you’re thirty-five? It could happen, you know.”

“Being in love doesn’t necessarily mean marriage. Which is why I consider The Bet a sure thing. I have the edge. I’m never getting married, however old I am.”

“You mean you still believe that stupid ‘all your emotional eggs in one basket’ theory you had at fifteen? That, my darling dragon, is what we women call Lack of Commitment. You just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“I meet the right women. Several times a year. Which has always been my point.” He frowned. “Are you going to bed?”

“Yes.” She stepped out of reach and turned to assess him over her shoulder. “Are we going to the house tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Late-ish. Take the bed again.”

He watched her walk to the bedroom. Even in the too large T-shirt, she moved like music. Fluid, graceful and too sexy for his peace of mind. Luke closed his eyes. He needed something else to focus on when Cat was around. Something that wasn’t soft, smooth and cinnamon flavored. Something like—

“Sweet dreams, Luke.”

“Yeah, you too, honey.” Something like—construction. Yeah. That was it. Instead of seeing Cat, he’d imagine building the house. From the foundation up.

“Are you okay?”

He glanced up. She was standing at the bedroom door with a little V of worry between her brows, one slippered foot perched on the other. He wanted to stride over, pick her up, carry her into the bedroom, lay her on his nice, wide bed...

“Just tired.”

Excavating the foundation. Lots of dirt. Big piles of dark soil—soft pale, freckly mounds tipped with pale apricot nipples... “See you in the morning,” he said gruffly, getting up to click off the light and plunge the room into darkness.

He heard the door shush closed.

Yeah, this visualizing concept stuff was going to work well. Yeah, right!

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, still wide-awake, with excavating the furthest thing from his mind, Luke had to go to the bathroom. To get to the bathroom, he had to go through the bedroom. He dreaded walking through the room with Cat sleeping there. Why had he decided to combine two bedrooms into one? Why had he thought a bigger kitchen warranted removing the guest bath?

Because he hadn’t expected Cat to be sleeping in his bed. That’s why.

She’s sleeping, you moron, Luke told himself, tiptoeing into the bedroom. She’d left the light on in the bathroom. A sliver of golden light slashed across her figure on the bed.

“Ah, Cat,” he said softly.

She was sprawled facedown across the bedspread, her hair covering her face and half the pillow. Out like a light. Beside her, tucked up to its furry little armpits by the blanket, was the teddy bear he’d given her years ago. That was Cat. She hung on to things. Treasured things. Coddled things.

He noticed she’d changed his satin sheets for plain white cotton. He sighed and bent to take off her slippers.

The smart thing to do, Catherine decided as she felt Luke’s hands removing her left fuzzy slipper, was to turn over and say hi. The sensation of his warm hands on her bare foot sent little electrical currents up her leg.