Worth the Trouble(9)

Apparently Jackson sensed her discomfort and, once again, swiftly changed the subject with a devil-may-care grin. “Shall we take over the floor and show them how it’s done?” He tugged on her hand.

“Sure.” She rose from her chair. Oooh, was the floor crooked? “But promise you won’t dump me for another partner once you get me out there.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.” He winked and broadened his toothy grin. “You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Besides, Vivi invited some cute friends. Don’t deny me the pleasure of making their acquaintance.”

She pinched his shoulder and followed him into the crowd, gripping his solid arm for balance. The band was playing an upbeat Bruno Mars song when they first hit the floor.

Her brother danced better than any guy she knew, so within minutes the two of them had taken over the floor. Thumping music pulsed around them, seeping into every nook and cranny of her mind as her hands circled the air above her head. Then Jackson twirled her twice and donned a self-satisfied smirk, which made her giggle.

When the band shifted into a slow song, Jackson held out his hand and pulled Cat in for a hug. He kissed her cheek and murmured, “You ought to be here with someone special, sis. It’s time you get on with your life. Don’t let that bastard Justin steal your future, too.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” she said wryly.

“Hey, I go out with plenty of women.”

“That’s worse than not going at all,” she answered. “Ever since Alison, you’ve gone from being a serial monogamist to bordering on becoming a man-whore.”

“Ouch!” Thunderclouds briefly dimmed the light in his golden-brown eyes then scattered when he deflected by grinning. “I’m not that bad. Just keeping things light while I’m building my business so no one gets disappointed. So, let’s call a truce before we spoil the night.”

“Okay, but only because I love you,” she teased.

“Love you, too, sis.” He kissed her cheek and dipped her.

It was the first time in months he’d broached the subject of her nonexistent love life, and she was grateful he’d been willing to let it go. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her potential diagnosis. If her family learned of it, they’d suffocate her with sympathy and reassurance.

Cat abhorred that kind of attention.

Feeling slightly light-headed, she rested her chin on Jackson’s shoulder and sneaked a peek at David and Vivi, who clung to each other as if they’d been sculpted from a single block of clay. Cat had never known that depth of safety or closeness with any man.

Jackson suddenly pulled away to tap Hank on the shoulder. “Switch partners, pal.” Before Cat could object, he continued. “Don’t make me slow dance with my own sister like some pathetic loser.”

Cat would have smacked him for the insult, but that fifth glass of champagne she’d consumed had slowed her reflexes. The ground pitched, as if she’d tried to stand too soon after jumping off a merry-go-round. She reached out one steadying hand before willing herself to look up at Hank. Habit then took over, yanking her to the safety of cool detachment.

Hank hesitated, but Jackson prodded him further. “Come on, Hank. You aren’t afraid of a little competition, are you?”

Before anyone could reply, Jackson swiped the other woman’s hand, stealing her from Hank’s grasp and into his own arms. He flashed a victorious smirk at Hank before spinning his new partner toward a distant spot on the floor.

The heat creeping up Cat’s neck added to her increasing wooziness. Hank’s gorgeous, jade-colored eyes bore into hers, making her feel dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with champagne. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he shrugged his shoulders and held out his hand.

Part of her wanted to turn away, but the naughty part she’d kept locked away for months longed to drag her hands through his honey-colored hair. He had thick, sexy, bedhead kind of hair. She remembered its silky texture from the one time she’d played with it.

He took her hand and gently snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer while never taking his eyes off her face. A ripple of alarm curled through her thoughts from the way he seemed determined to see through her mask.

She cast her eyes downward, but since Hank still stood an inch taller than her despite her spiky shoes, she then had a close-up view of his lips. She remembered them well, too, especially his full bottom lip.

“Catalina?”

His voice snapped her out of her dreamy daze.

“Hmm?” She dared another look into his eyes then nudged a little closer. He smelled clean and fresh, not overly perfumed like so many men she knew. Suddenly the reasons she’d sworn off men or, more precisely, Hank, vanished. Refraining from brushing her nose against the bristly hairs of the two-day stubble he’d cultivated required every ounce of willpower she possessed.