Cherry Adair - Slow Burn

“Gross. You must have been sick as a dog.”

“Well, yeah. But it was worth it.” His grin was infectious and her heart leaped ridiculously as he laid his arm across her shoulders and stood beside her, looking at the wall of stone with pride. “There are over two hundred fieldstones embedded in that thar li’l ol’ fireplace.”

Reaching to the cathedral ceiling, and about fifteen feet wide, it hardly qualified as little. She shook her head, used to Luke’s and Nick’s ridiculous but harmless bets.

“When are you two going to stop that nonsense? You’ve been betting on anything and everything since fifth grade.”

“We did a sealed bet when we’d stop.”

Catherine shook her head again and slipped casually from under his arm. The back of her neck tingled and her knees felt wobbly as she strolled over to the plastic-covered bay window.

“Oh, Luke, this is absolutely glorious. Look at this view. Are there any deer out there, do you think?”

“Several. I saw a doe and her fawn last weekend.”

He walked over and leaned against an exposed stud, his arms folded as he watched her from hooded eyes. A stud leaning against a stud. How appropriate. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she shifted without looking at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she said brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem...I don’t know...different.”

“Different? How?” Since when?

“I don’t know.” He looked as puzzled as he sounded.

Excruciatingly aware of him watching her, she didn’t know where to look, what to do with her too-large hands and feet.

“There’s Nick! Is that his new car? I’ll go out and help him carry whatever he’s brought for lunch.”

If she took a breath in there, Luke didn’t hear it. She dashed out of the room, fiery ponytail bobbing against her shoulders, her sneakers echoing in the vast, empty room. Luke stared at her retreating back, avoiding the view of her tight little butt in retreat.

He shook his head and followed her outside. Just in time to see her fling herself into Nick’s open arms.

Scowling, Luke jogged down the stairs, gave a cursory glance at the screaming red BMW parked beside his bike, and dug into his back pocket. When Nick caught his eye over Cat’s head, Luke flashed him the twenty in his hand. The top of Cat’s head reached Nick’s jaw. Luke didn’t like the way they had their arms looped about each other’s waist as they strolled toward the house together.

He’d seen that look in his partner’s eye about seven million times. Luke wanted to gently set Cat aside and pummel his best friend’s and business partner’s face into the dirt. Twice, for good measure. He settled for a meaningful glare.

Nick grinned. Still holding Cat under one brawny arm, he snagged the money out of Luke’s fingers. “Thank you kindly, son.” He chuckled, stuffing the bill into his front pocket.

Cat glanced from one to the other and raised one red eyebrow.

“License plate. Has two threes in it,” Luke explained, keeping abreast with them on the steps and porch, but unable to squeeze through the front door. He glared at Nick, whose mockingbird-blue eyes held the devil today.

All three of them paused on the threshold.

“We could try it single file,” Cat offered seriously, her head doing the tennis match waltz to see who was going to cave first.

“No,” Luke and Nick agreed. Nick pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “Call it.”

“Tails.”

The coin caught the light as it twisted in the air, then landed on Nick’s palm. “Step back, pardner. The lady’s with me tonight.”

Luke scowled as he followed them into the living room. There wasn’t that much heavy lifting to do. He could have done without Nick’s help today.

CHAPTER THREE

“WELL, HONEY, AREN’T you absolutely, outrageously gorgeous?” Nick released Catherine’s waist, only to capture both her hands. He held her in front of him, arms spread wide, their fingers entwined, as he checked her out from head to toe, and all ports in between. She gave him a frank stare back. She’d adored him for almost twenty years. Almost as long as she’d known Luke. It puzzled her why, when Nick was a truly delicious hunk of manhood, she’d never felt any of the sparks that ignited at just the thought of Luke.

“In eight months,” she teased, “I had two more calls from you than I did from Luke. I had to come and see for myself if you guys were behaving yourselves.”

“I gotta tell you, sweet thing, if I’d known you’d get even more beautiful, I would’ve called three times a day.”

Catherine pulled her hands free and gave him a mild look. “Three times a day, huh? What on earth would we talk about?”

“Your fantastic hair.” Nick reached out and fingered a few strands near her face, then lowered his smoky voice. “Your skin, your eyes, your mouth—”

“Hey, Stratton, give it a rest. Cat’s immune to your dubious charms.”

Although Catherine felt the pulse of Luke’s presence in the room, she managed to ignore him and to encourage Nick. “More. More.”

Nick’s answering grin revealed two long, sexy dimples in his lean cheeks. His dark hair had a tendency to curl. He kept it cut short, reminding her of the profile on a Greek coin. He was a clotheshorse, and his tall, spare body looked good in whatever he wore. Today he’d dressed in Dockers, his only concession to work a pair of immaculate workboots. His lavender golf shirt made his blue eyes look violet.

He grinned wickedly at Luke. “We’re going to have to keep Princess under lock and key while she’s visiting, won’t we?”

“I’m not visiting.” Catherine pushed his hand away from her hair, which he’d been absently fondling. “Dragon over there is letting me stay with him until the house is ready.”

Nick stuck his hands in his pockets and gave Luke a level look. “Is that so?”

“I’m not going to be moving in before the turn of the century unless you two get to work,” Luke told them shortly, dropping the last torn piece of sandpaper he’d been shredding to join the others at his feet. He cast Nick a mildly belligerent look.

“Please tell me my portfolio is still in your capable hands?” Nick begged with utmost sincerity. Four of Catherine’s savvy trades had made his new Beemer possible.

“Safe and sound,” she assured him. “Boy, I’d kill for a cup of coffee.” She edged past Luke, who didn’t like losing and was obviously still smarting over two losses in one morning. “Guys?”

The men followed her into the kitchen. The oak cabinets had been installed and gleamed in the sun streaming through the plastic over the kitchen window opening. The naked plywood countertops looked ready for tile. A card table shoved into the refrigerator opening held a coffeepot and several sealed jars. A commercial water bottle sat on the floor under the table. Catherine set about making coffee as Luke divvied up the assignments for the day.

“Plan on taking a short break,” Luke warned his helpers. “Here.” He handed her a how-to-install-tile book. “Bone up on this while you finish your coffee.”

“You’re trusting me to do this after glancing at a book?”

Luke shrugged. “How could a compulsive personality screw up?”

Catherine pulled a face. “Let me count the ways.” She tucked the book under her arm. “You’re nuts, but I’m game. Gimme my supplies, boss.”

“Get your coffee first, and I’ll stick what you need in the bathroom down the hall.” Luke accepted the brimming paper cup Catherine handed him. “Yo, Nick? Did you say you brought lunch?”

Nick went out to his car to retrieve the cooler while Luke showed Catherine what needed to be done in the guest bathroom.