Hell, who was she kidding? There was way more at stake here than either of those things. After their near miss, it had become crystal clear—if she didn’t get Shane settled down with a nice girl soon, she might not be able to resist the temptation to fill the slot herself. Not okay, since “settled down” and “nice girl” were so not on her bucket list.
Decision made, she popped the pills into her mouth, washing them down with a gulp of ice-cold water. Time to break those newly forming ties to Shane before she was bound and tied forever.
Chapter Six
The doorbell rang and Shane crossed the room to answer it. Cat stood on the porch wrapped in a long, wool coat. There was no reason to think she’d be naked underneath, but his dick was clearly more optimistic. He had to cut the big guy some slack, though. It had been a restless night for both of them, and he’d been tortured by the most erotic dreams he’d ever had after his kiss with Cat. He’d been so right about that. Now that he’d tasted those lips again, they were all he could think about.
He pulled himself together quickly and opened his mouth to greet her, but she cut in before he had the chance.
“Are your mom and dad home?” she asked, her breath forming a puffy cloud in the air.
“No, they just left. I forgot, they play canasta on Tuesday evenings.” He stepped back to let her in, but she paused in the doorway. “Is that a problem?”
“Uh-uh, I just thought they’d be here.”
Judging by her expression, that had been more of a hope than a thought.
“They’ll be back later. Mom left stew for us, though. She thinks it’s a great idea, by the way. The whole dating service. She’s been angling for more grandkids. Hard to believe the Reign of Terror hasn’t cured her of that.”
“It hasn’t cured you of wanting kids, has it?”
He cocked his head and took a second before answering, in case the question was more than just a casual curiosity. “No, I don’t think so. It’s definitely made me reevaluate how soon I want to have them, though.”
She slipped in past him and beelined for the stairs. “Did you pack any dress clothes?”
“Not really, but my bedroom closet is still full of stuff that I never got around to clearing out when I moved.”
“We’ll see if any of that will work.”
“How’s your leg?” He trailed behind her up the steps, taking in the sway of her curvy hips under the heavy material. When she reached the top she hung a left, heading for his bedroom.
“Better, thanks. No bleeding, I changed the bandage this morning, and so far so good.”
“Glad to hear it.” She’d stopped in the center of the room and was aggressively ignoring the bed, her gaze taking in everything but. “Want me to take your coat?”
Their eyes met and held for a moment, and she wet her lips. “Sure.” She slipped the coat from her shoulders and handed it him. He took in her appearance and held back a growl of appreciation. Black boots hugged her trim calves, and fitted gray jeans clung to her thighs, the outline of the bandage on her injured leg the only indication of yesterday’s mishap. The short, red, off-the-shoulder sweater that capped off the look should have totally clashed with her hair. But it didn’t. She looked bold and beautiful.
“You look great.”
She glanced down at her clothes and smiled. “Thanks. The sweater is part of my winter collection. I’d planned to do it in cashmere, but then fell in love with the way this mohair gave it such an interesting textural quality.”
The pleasure she took in her work lit up her face, and he found himself wishing he knew more about clothes. Then maybe he could keep her talking. Unfortunately, he’d reached the bottom of the conversational well on fashion.
“Anyway, as you were saying, I do look pretty great. And that makes one of us.” She wrinkled her nose, sweeping an assessing gaze over him from head to toe. “First we’ve got to lose the T-shirts. You’ve got a good body under there, and they definitely showcase that, but we can do better. Flaunt the goods but still let people know that you have some taste and more than eleven dollars in the bank to boot.”
He glanced down at his shirt and frowned. “I don’t get what the big deal is. It’s just a T-shirt.”
“Exactly,” she said triumphantly, wagging a finger at him. “We can do better. Do you have any suits in here?” She turned to riffle through the tiny closet. Every so often, amid the scoffs and snorts, she handed him an item of clothing, most of which he hadn’t worn in years. No surprise there. His parents had modernized some of the house since he’d left home, but his room was like one giant time capsule. The walls were still the same New York Giants blue that they’d been since his junior year of high school, and were riddled with pennants, posters, and foam fingers. Football and basketball trophies lined the shelves that ran the perimeter of the back the room. He was only glad he’d had the foresight to take down his framed Eagle Scout patch before she’d come over. No reason to give her more ammunition to support her theory about him.