Cherry Adair - Slow Burn - Seducing Mr. Right / Take Me

The woman had a mind like a steel trap and the Midas touch. There were several of his dad’s old cronies whose money she’d parlayed into small fortunes, just for the fun of it.

“Don’t worry. I brought my computer. Your future fortune is still safe in my hands.”

“Thank God. You can set up camp at Van Buren and Stratton if you like. There’s a spare office on the second floor you can use.” The thought of being with Catherine Harris 24/7 terrified him. He wondered where he could find large amounts of saltpeter.

“You don’t have to sound so unenthusiastic,” Cat laughed. “No, thank you, it would never work. We all know each other too well. You’re too much of a slob, and Nick and I would goof around and I’d never get any work done. If you don’t mind, I’ll work from here for a while.”

“Sure.” Cat would be here every night when he got home. A curse and a blessing.

“Did I mess up a beautiful relationship?” she asked suddenly.

Luke easily followed the non sequitur. Cat was nothing if not tenacious. “Probably not.”

“Will you see her again?”

“More than likely.”

“She could have given the situation the benefit of the doubt, you know.” Cat nibbled her bottom lip. He wished to hell she wouldn’t do that. “A little sense of humor would have gone a long way.” She sighed gustily. “Okay, it was stupid, and I’m really, really sorry.”

Ah, Cat’s innate sense of honor and fair play. “No harm done. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you mind if I stay here until I find a place of my own?”

Don’t offer, he thought. Do not, the hell, offer. “No, not at all. I wouldn’t have given you a key if I minded your comings and goings.” He paused, then scowled, alarmed that his eyes kept dropping to her chest. “I told you when I came home for the funeral that you’d be welcome anytime. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy there?”

Cat sighed. “Luke. How old am I?”

“You’re...twenty-three?”

“Try twenty-six, I’ve always been seven years younger than you. How come you never remember?” She shifted back in his chair, clearly uncomfortable under his close scrutiny. She’d always been a prickly little thing. “Life was passing me by. I want to stretch my wings a bit.”

“I know, honey.” He reached out and covered her hand. Cat had nursed his father for the five years preceding his death eight months ago. Luke had frequently envied Cat and his father’s close relationship. Now Luke was all Cat had left. Her flaky mother didn’t count.

She flushed and withdrew her hand. “I didn’t sacrifice anything. We were father and daughter by choice, not chance, and I loved him. Don’t go all big brother on me. It took longer than I thought to get his affairs tied up. I contacted a real estate agent and put the house on the market—” She put up a hand to forestall his usual rhetoric about the estate. “No, Luke, I’m not keeping the house. Besides, my moth—Faith is between husbands at the moment, and she’s been broadly hinting she might like to come ‘home to rest’ for a little while.”

“She’s run out of money.” It wasn’t a question. If Faith was between husbands or lovers, it was a given.

Cat’s smile broke his heart. “That, too.”

He’d like to wring Faith’s beautiful neck. “You should buy a nice condo with the money Dad left you.”

Those expressive tiger eyes of hers darkened. Ah, hell.

“It’s invested. If you don’t want me here,” she said stiffly, slender shoulders hunched, “just say so. I’ll go and stay with Nick.”

Nick. Their mutual friend, partner, fellow architect and ladies’ man? No way. “Does Nick know about this?”

“Not yet.”

At least she’d come to Luke first.

He and Nick had been next-door neighbors, and best friends, when Luke still had a matched set of parents. After the divorce, and his father’s remarriage, Nick and Cat had become friends. Luke wasn’t jealous of their close relationship anymore, but he was inordinately pleased she’d chosen to come to him instead of going to Nick.

“Hey! Mi casa es su casa. Finding an apartment in San Francisco is almost impossible. I was planning to keep the condo for the nights I work late. You might as well live here. In a few months the house should be finished, and I’ll be moving out of the city, anyway. Until then we can figure out who gets the bed and who gets the sofa.”

Her eyes clouded briefly. “Sure?”

He knew this particular insecurity well, and said casually, “Positive. But on one condition. This time unpack and spread out. Last time you came you kept your stuff in your suitcase stuck in the closet for two weeks. If you’re going to live here, live here. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.” Her shoulders relaxed. “The house is that close to being finished, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s coming along great. You can come and help me tomorrow, if you like.” He noticed her sleepy eyes and smiled. “Since you had the bed last, why don’t you finish the night there? I’ll take the sofa. We can work out our sleeping arrangements tomorrow.”

“I’m not sleepy. How about hot chocolate?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Yes, you do. I bought groceries on my way here.” She unfurled her long, long legs and stood. Luke rose at the same time, and they came nose-to-nose, inches apart.

He’d forgotten how tall she was. Her mouth was almost on a level with his.

If he bent his knees...

If Cat stood on her toes...

If she had been any other desirable woman, he would have slipped his arms about her slender waist, drawn her against his chest and kissed that soft succulent mouth until they were both gasping for air. He quickly shook off the thought.

He trailed her into his chrome-and-black-glass kitchen, observing the way her hips moved as she padded on bare feet. She had a loose-jointed walk that made Playboy centerfolds look like windup toys.

Luke settled at the small table under the window as Cat heated milk and made their drinks. She knew where everything was because she’d put it there when he’d moved in two years ago.

“Thanks.” Luke took the brimming mug she offered. Chocolate-scented steam tantalized his taste buds. He waited until she slid into the other chair before he spoke. “You were stifled in that house with Dad all those years, Cat. I understand you wanting to try something new and exciting. And San Francisco certainly is that. But don’t you think it might be a culture shock?”

She’d taken a tentative sip and already wore a chocolate milk mustache. She watched him over the rim of her mug. Transfixed, he watched her pink tongue come out and lick the creamy film off her upper lip. He was going to drop dead from a heart attack at age thirty-three.

Her eyes flickered away, then back again.

“Okay, Cat. What are you up to?”

“Me?” She was all wide-eyed innocence. “Nothing.”

“The first time you gave me that look was when you said you weren’t running away to join the circus, remember? We found you in the park two blocks away, panhandling for bus fare.”

Cat grinned. “I promise, I don’t want to join the circus.”

The chocolate must have burned the hell out of her throat, but she chugged it down, then cradled the empty mug. She had pretty hands. Slender, no-nonsense, with short, unpolished nails. He wanted them on him.

Luke’s heart took up an unexpected arrhythmic beat as he watched her. Despite her mother’s influence, Cat had always been a sensible woman. Somehow she’d remained refreshingly innocent. She was what was known as a “good girl.” More than likely the last of a dying breed. In spite of her lush, curvy body, she was wholesome. Natural.

Cat gave him a level, serious look. “I came because you’re the only man I trust, Luke. I have a problem.”