Diana Whitney - Mixing Business...With Baby

She smiled then, a brief flutter of lips that was absolutely devastating. “I’m sure you would have left me in the dust. Presuming, of course, you had stayed on your feet in the first place.”

Well, at least she’d been watching him. He took some small consolation in that. “A minor mishap. Have you never gotten a pebble in your shoe?”

“A pebble?”

“Sharp little devil. Poked itself right into my instep. You know how it goes.”

A flash of tooth scraped her lower lip, as if she was biting back a smile. “Of course.”

“So other than jogging, what else do you do to buff up?”

“‘Buff up’?”

“You know, tone the old quads, beef up the biceps.”

“Oh. Well, I enjoy tennis. Or I used to. There’s little time for it any more.”

A clue. He pounced on it. “This is truly amazing. Tennis is absolutely my game.” Grab a ball, hit it with a racket. How hard could it be? “Maybe we could share a court some time.”

“Maybe.”

She was softening, he could see it in her eyes. “You ought to try working with the weights, too. It’s great for the cardiovascular system.” To prove the point, he hoisted the bar with a macho grunt and felt something give at the base of his spine. His arms collapsed like wet noodles, and the bar came down on his chest, pushing the air out of his lungs with a humiliating whoosh.

Catrina widened her eyes. “Are you all right?”

He opened his mouth, sucked a wheezing breath. “I meant…” a peculiar hiss emanating from somewhere deep inside “…to do that.”

She blinked. “Why?”

It took a few seconds before he could speak again. “Lower weights—” he wheezed “—then lift them.” He wheezed again. “That’s how…it works.”

“I see,” she murmured, clearly unconvinced. “Well, I’ll leave you to your workout.”

Rick smiled, managed a painful nod. “If you see Frank Glasgow, could you…send him up?”

“Of course.” She glanced once more in his direction, then scooped up her duffel and left.

After what seemed a small eternity, Frank poked his head into the gym. “What can I do for you?”

“You can get this…damned thing off.” Rick gritted his teeth. “Then drive me to the hospital…I think I broke a rib.”

“I tell you, Gracie, it’s absolutely eerie. Every time I turn around, there he is. And he’s sending me presents.”

“Presents?” Gracie’s eyes popped. “You mean like diamonds and perfume and furs?”

“Well, no.” Catrina cleared her throat, glanced away. “Er, a case of panty hose.” Expensive panty hose, attached to a dozen colorful helium-filled balloons and shuttled to her apartment door by a uniformed courier who was most unhappy when she refused to accept the delivery.

Gracie blinked rapidly. “Oh, my, that does sound a bit personal.”

“Actually, it was kind of a private joke. You see, I dropped some coins at the coffee shop and ripped the knee out of my—” Blushing furiously, Catrina clamped her mouth shut, embarrassed by Gracie’s knowing grin. “Never mind. The point is, I think he’s stalking me.”

“Stalking you?” Gracie chuckled. “Perhaps he’s just interested in you. After all, you’re a very attractive young lady.”

“Well, I’m not interested in him.”

She quirked a brow. “Not even a little?”

Catrina shrugged, shifted Heather on her hip as she tossed a handful of pasta into a pot of boiling water. “I’ll admit he’s an appealing man, but that isn’t the point. I’m not interested in any man, appealing or not.”

“You prefer women?”

“Gracie!” Catrina laughed, shook her head. “You know what I mean. I’ve just extricated myself from one bad relationship. I certainly am not going to fling myself into another one.”

“Then how about flinging yourself into a good relationship?”

Catrina’s smile faded. “There’s no such thing,” she said firmly, and meant it. “My mother suffered through two terrible marriages. Two men used her, abused her then walked out on her. My eldest sister divorced a man so shallow and narcissistic that he ran off to Europe rather than support the child he had fathered, and I ended up with a fellow who thought women should have been born with scrub brushes instead of fingers, and a built-in beer cooler on their backs. Heather and I are better off alone, thank you very much.”

“Not all men are adolescent control freaks.”

“Of course not. Just the ones I know.” Sighing, she slipped Heather into the high chair, handing her a spouted cup of juice to placate her until dinner was ready. “I understand that it’s not fair to judge an entire gender by the behavior of a few, but the point is that I can’t afford another mistake. I have a child to think about, a child who means the world to me. I won’t risk having her hurt, her trust broken by yet another daddy who will disappoint and abandon her.”

“There are good men out there, Catrina, men who are worthy of your love and respect.”

A slow throb worked its way around her temples. “Then why couldn’t you find one?” The minute the words emerged, Catrina regretted them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Of course you did.” Paling visibly, Gracie nonetheless attempted a smile. “I’m the first to admit that when it came to choosing husbands, I wasn’t the brightest porch light on the block.”

“Gracie—”

“No, no, you’re right. I’m hardly an authority on relationships.” She shifted her gaze, stirred the pot of spaghetti sauce bubbling on Catrina’s stove. “Just because you invite me for dinner once a week doesn’t give me license to tell you how to live your life.” A sly glance bounced so quickly that Catrina nearly missed it. “I’m sure you’re not the least bit interested in my silly musings.”

“Of course I’m interested,” Catrina assured her. “If I didn’t want your opinion, I wouldn’t have brought the subject up in the first place.”

Gracie laid the saucy spoon on the counter, wiped her hands on a tea towel. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“Gracie! Tell me what you think I should do.”

The older woman’s face spread into a wreath of smile lines. “Well, since you’ve asked, I think you should continue doing exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“I’ve been ignoring and avoiding him.”

“Exactly.”

Catrina frowned. For some reason, she’d had the impression that Gracie thought she should give the persistent Rick Blaine a chance. “So far, it hasn’t exactly chilled his enthusiasm.”

“Give it time. Just keep pretending you’re not interested and—”

“ Pretending? Gracie, I don’t have to pretend. Haven’t you been listening? I am not interested in Rick Blaine. Not, not, not!”

“Of course, dear, I understand.” The woman chuckled, swished her hand as if waving away a pesky fly. “Anyway, you just keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing, and sooner or later you’ll get exactly what you want.”

“Exactly what I want,” Catrina repeated. The words rolled around her tongue with a smooth feel, a unique flavor. “That would be lovely, of course, if I knew what I wanted in the first place. The truth is I haven’t a clue. Does that make me insane?”

“No dear,” Gracie said with a chuckle. “It simply makes you human.”

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