Cherry Adair - Slow Burn

Luke squeezed his eyes shut as if he were in pain. “Go take a shower. We’ll discuss this when you’re dressed.”

* * *

“SHE WANTS TO go back home,” Luke hissed, eyes fixed on the slammed-shut bedroom door. He stuck his bare feet up on the coffee table and glared at his friend. “What happened last night at the party?”

“Other than the host being eighty-sixed?” Nick asked as he reached for another doughnut.

“I had to take Karen home.”

“And Catherine got in a snit when you were gone all night from your own party.” Nick shook his head. “Women. Go figure.”

“So? My entire social and sex life has to come to a screaming halt because Cat’s here?”

Nick put up a powdered-sugar-coated hand. “Hey, that’s your choice. Personally I wouldn’t want to see anyone else. Not with Catherine around. In case you hadn’t noticed, old son, that’s one hot babe you have sharing your— Oh, excuse me,” he drawled as Luke cleared his throat pointedly.

“I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat, and so would half our friends. Didn’t you see them salivating around Catherine last night? Or were you too busy getting it on with Karen?”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

“Cat? I know. She’s gorgeous.”

“Not Cat. Karen. And of course those degenerates were all over Cat like bears over honey. They’re idiots, not stupid.”

“What idiots aren’t stupid?” Cat asked, emerging from the bedroom wearing white shorts, a black crop top and strappy black sandals. She’d even put on makeup. Nothing overt, just enough to make her look...more. She’d done something to tame her hair, then swooped it on top of her head in a sexy tumble held up by gravity. A forties pinup. Nick shot up from his seat and crossed the room in three strides.

“Let me take you away from all this, my lovely Princess Catarina.” He grabbed Cat around her waist, touching her bare skin as he swirled her in a circle.

Luke watched through narrowed eyes, wondering where he could hide Nick’s body after the homicide. His friend brought Cat’s hand to his mouth, then theatrically kissed her fingertips before nibbling his way up her arm, reeling her in against his chest and making her laugh. Cat wrapped her arm around his waist and Nick smiled down at her.

“I brought you a present.”

“I thought it was for me,” Luke said, as a laughing Nick pulled Cat over to the new gate-legged table by the front door.

“Nope. You get yours later, old son. This one’s for Catherine.”

“Oh, Nick! Thank you.” She picked up the old-fashioned, round fishbowl in both hands, then looked at Nick with shining eyes. There was only one ordinary little goldfish in the bowl, not an entire freshwater aquarium, Luke thought sourly as he watched them.

“This is so sweet of you.”

“Hey, I’m a sweet guy—”

“You’d better change into jeans,” Luke informed her, cutting Nick off. Preferably at the knees. “We’re going on the bike.”

“I’m not going on the bike. Allan’s taking me.”

Luke gave her a blank look. “To my house?”

“Is that a problem?” One hip cocked, she leaned into Nick, holding the bowl with the lonely little fish against her chest.

Lucky fish.

“The sooner the house is finished the sooner you move in, right? Allan’s a great painter. He told me so last night. Consider him free labor.”

The two of them strolled across the living room like frigging Siamese twins. Nick dug in his pocket. Luke absently took the twenty his ex-best friend handed over as he passed.

“Yeah, I guess.” He stuffed the money into his front pocket.

Cat didn’t sound as if she were packing her bags anytime soon. Something inside him unwound a little.

“I’ll make some calls and round up more people,” he said. “We can make a day of it.”

Cat glanced at her watch. “Well, an afternoon, anyway. You bet on Allan, did you?” she asked, then glanced at Nick. “Who was your call?”

“Ted.”

“You should have told me. They both asked me out today.”

“That would be cheating,” Luke informed her, not amused that she was amused.

“Oh. Excuse me. I didn’t realize there were rules.” The doorbell rang and she disengaged from Nick. “That’s Allan. Get the lead out, Van Buren.”

She handed him the dumb fishbowl and went to the door.

CHAPTER SIX

NICK HAD GIVEN him a two-by-four. To beat back the guys who were going to swarm over Cat. No kidding. At the rate things were going Luke was going to need it. He didn’t like the ratio of men to woman: three to one. In Cat’s favor.

He liked women, and considered flirting one of life’s greatest pleasures. But it was one of his unwritten laws that he never strung them along. Luke made no secret of his opinion of marriage or any long-term commitment.

The second Cat had left on the arm of good old Allan, Luke called a woman he hadn’t seen in months. Suzette was an attractive, petite brunette. Intelligent and witty, she made no bones about being available and she liked his rules just fine.

Half the twenty or so people spread throughout the house were working. The others had taken the grill across the street to the beach for an impromptu barbecue. Luke had posted a work schedule, and despite the moaning and groaning from his press-ganged crew, work was actually being accomplished.

Cat and Allan were painting the guest bedroom. They’d been in there for hours with the door closed. Of course, Luke thought, digging in one of the coolers for a liter bottle of soda, there was no furniture in there yet. But how long could it possibly take two people to paint a small room?

“Trying to use telekinesis to open the door?” Nick strolled into the kitchen and caught him glowering down the hall. Nick levered himself up onto the counter. “I thought you came in here for sodas.”

“On my way.” Luke held up the bottle and a short tower of paper cups. “Ladies getting twitchy?”

“Suzette and Kirsten wonder why everyone else is slaving serflike while you wander from room to room bossing us around.”

“Meticulous planning.” Luke shot another look toward the closed door down the hallway. “Bad idea leaving the two women unsupervised, Stratton. Who knows what devious plot they’ll hatch while we’re not paying attention? Back to work.”

Nick slid off the plywood-topped counter. “Has Catherine said anything about leaving since we got here?”

“Nope.”

“She and Allan look good together. What’ya think?”

It had been Luke’s ridiculous reaction to Cat dragging Allan along that had induced him to invite five million people here in the first place. The house was overrun with bodies. Feeling incredibly beleaguered, he had to be in seven places at once to oversee what everyone was doing. “I think Allan’s been in there with her long enough to paint the Sistine Chapel.”

“Yeah? Go in there and supervise, then.”

Luke swore. “Here, take these in to the ladies, I’ll be right back.” He handed Nick the soda and cups, then stalked out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Catherine glanced over her shoulder as the bedroom door flew open. Luke. She groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes, making Allan smile.

“He’s back! Quick, look busy before he gives us another project.”

“Har-dee-har-har.” In one glance, Luke assessed the freshly painted walls and half-painted trim. “Looks good. Nice job,” he told Allan, then said to Catherine, “Can we talk a minute?”

She put her paintbrush down on the edge of the paint pan, then flexed her fingers as she rose. “Anything, as long as I can rest my poor abused arm.”

Naturally, Luke was immaculately dressed, while she was covered from head to toe in cream-colored paint. Pounding music, the buzz of a Skil saw and manic hammering assaulted them from every direction as they walked through the house.