She snapped her fingers a few feet in front of his face and called his name. “Hello? Anyone there?”
“I’m here. I was just thinking how ludicrous it was that you imagined I might get all decked out in a suit for coffee or a drink. It’s not the eighteen hundreds. People go on dates in jeans all the time. I don’t know what you think it is that I’ve been doing the last nine years, but I’m not a shut-in, Cat. I can dress myself.”
She ignored him and held a brown sports coat up to his chest, sizing him up with a practiced eye. “This is perfect. Casual enough to seem like you don’t care that much, for the girl who likes them aloof, but dressy enough to show you care, for the girl who likes a guy to put a little effort in.” She pushed by him and tossed the jacket onto the bed. “You want to keep the T-shirt, I’ll work with you. Wear it under this with those jeans.” She gestured to the ones he had on. “You get dressed—I’m going to raid the bathroom for hair product and see what we can do.”
She whirled away and he stared after her. “Hair product? You mean like gel or something? Do I really need that?”
She didn’t bother to answer, the opening and closing of his bathroom cabinets answer enough.
Fine. None of this shit mattered anyway. The point was to keep her close, and he was definitely succeeding. He tugged off his T-shirt, then pulled a clean one out of his top drawer.
“I found some…” Cat stood in the doorway of the bathroom, can of mousse in her hand. Her gaze was glued to his naked chest and sent a sizzle straight to his cock.
“I thought you were wearing that T-shirt under the jacket.”
Her voice sounded froggy and he bit back a grin. “I’ve been wearing it all day. I figured I’d get a clean one.” He should’ve pulled the shirt over his head then, but if she was enjoying the show, who was he to stop her? He fisted the cotton, leaving his hand hanging by his side and her view unobstructed.
“What,” she cleared her throat and tucked a strand of fiery hair behind one ear, “what does the tattoo represent?”
He was about to answer, then stalled. If he told her, it would derail her current fascination with his body, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for her to stop looking at him like he was food.
He opened his mouth to tell her the same thing he’d told the last couple women he’d been with when they’d asked. Some lame bullshit about liking the pattern. But he found the words stuck in his craw. Instead he lifted his free hand to the symbol and held her electric-green eyes as he spoke. “Taken literally, it represents hope when things seem hopeless.” He let his fingers drift to the next black character, tracing the still slightly raised flesh with his thumb.
He waited, wondering if she would press further…hoping she would. Hoping she wanted to know more about him, his life and what he’d been doing these past bunch of years.
She bit her lip, the indecision plain on her face. Then, she turned away.
Ouch.
“Cool. Finish getting dressed and we’ll do your intro video. Then I have some ideas for still shots we can take. Do you have an ax?”
He nodded, yanking the T-shirt over his head. “Yeah.”
Felt like one was lodged in his gut.
…
Cat set the video camera on the oak dining room table and peered at the screen. “Okay, sit up straight because you’re slouching a little.”
Shane straightened and frowned. “Is it even rolling yet?”
“No, but I want to make sure you fit in the frame when you’re sitting right.”
Shane didn’t say anything, but that was nothing new. For the past twenty minutes, since their emotionally charged exchange in the bedroom, he’d been even quieter than normal. But in spite of her every effort not to, she couldn’t stop thinking about his tattoo and the meaning behind it. Was it something to do with his job? Or about a woman?
That thought made the French cruller she’d eaten on the way over feel like a lump in her stomach. How stupid was that? Jealous over a woman who may or may not exist. Exactly the reason she never wanted to feel so much for a man. It did nothing but muddy the water. Good sex, companionship when needed, and common interests—those were the things she was looking for in a relationship. Get too caught up and someone ended up compromising until they’d compromised so much, they became someone else. A mirror for the person they were with.
A vision of her brilliant mother smiling her way through another student’s painful performance of “Hot Cross Buns” flitted through her mind, and she shoved back the guilt that came with it.
Fuck. That.
“Can you see the script?” she asked Shane, shaking off the memories and melancholy to focus on the task at hand.