Cat's Lair

  3

  THE buzz was persistent. Really persistent. Annoyingly so. Catarina groaned and rolled over, her hair falling around her face, spilling across the pillow and covering her eyes and nose. The stupid buzzer blasted through the warehouse, as if someone leaned on it. It wasn't designed to be musical. It was loud and sounded like an alarm. She put the pillow over her head and held it there in hopes of drowning out the noise, but apparently, whoever had owned the warehouse before Malcom had been totally deaf.

  "All right," she yelled, throwing the pillow and fighting her way out of the covers. She kicked several times, destroying her perfectly made-up bed, and sat up, sweeping back the mass of dark, wavy hair. It was everywhere. She looked around vaguely for a clip to tame the thick length, but the buzzer persisted, louder than ever.

  "Seriously?" she muttered, and leapt to her feet, stalking through the warehouse to the front door. She flung it open, scowling ominously with blurry vision. "Are you crazy? It's like three o'clock in the morning."

  Ridley stood there. Tall. Looking amazing. Refreshed and looking amazing. Seriously hot and amazing. "You. Are. Nuts." She tried to close the door in his face.

  He stuck his boot in the door. "Step back, Kitten, I'm coming in and I've got my hands full."

  He pushed open the door, and she pushed back. He was stronger, so the door swung his way. She clenched her teeth and stepped back, allowing him entry. He was carrying boxes and bags, which meant his hands were tied up.

  "Cat, why are you looking at me like that?"

  "Like you don't have two of your weapons and I could kick you in the thigh very hard and give you a dead leg? Like that? And then do a sweep and take both your legs out from under you? Am I giving you that kind of look? And then roll your body right out my front door? Because I'm contemplating how much of an effort that would be."

  His mouth twitched. She narrowed her eyes at him.

  "Of course, because you're the most annoying man on earth, I'd have to find the wire to cut that buzzer and stop it from ever working. You're the type that would just lay on it and wake a girl up when she just went to bed."

  "I always say dream big if you're going to do it," he said, not in the least bit worried. "And it's not three in the morning, baby, it's more like nine."

  He stared down at her from his lofty height, which only annoyed her more.

  "You walked me home again last night. You know when I got to bed. This is my three o'clock in the morning." When he didn't turn and leave, she threw her hands in the air and then had to shove again at the wild mass of hair tumbling down to her waist.

  "Has anyone ever told you that you're grumpy when you wake up?"

  "As I don't wake up around anyone, no, they haven't."

  His eyes went pure gold, moving over her in the slow, intense way she was coming to recognize as his taking in everything. Her breath hitched in her lungs when he looked at her.

  Ridley couldn't take his eyes off Catarina. Her sweatpants rode low on her hips. Her tank molded to her breasts, and she wasn't thin. She had curves, and he liked a woman with curves. She hid them under baggy clothes, but they were there, a little too curvy by normal standards, but certainly not by his. She had a very small waist and a narrow rib cage, which only served to emphasize the curve of her hips and butt and her breasts. Her tank was just that little bit too short, baring her midriff, and she had unbelievable skin. She didn't wear makeup ever that he'd seen. Maybe lip gloss once in a while, but right now her lips were bare, along with her feet.

  Her hair was wild. Bedroom wild. Sexy wild. And then on top of everything else she had those eyes. Large, framed with long thick black lashes, her eyes were unbelievable, and he wanted them staring straight into his when he was buried deep in her body. He wanted to see how those eyes changed when he gave her an orgasm.

  He swore to himself. She wasn't very old, not in years, but in her eyes, she was a million years old. That wasn't a green light, he knew that. She was terrified, absolutely terrified, and he detested that. No woman should ever have to live in fear. She was always in flight mode. He knew she was preparing herself to fight, but right now, all he'd seen was her hiding herself away, her silence, baggy clothes and downcast eyes. That was Catarina in full flight.

  He wanted to help her, to find a way to let her live in daylight. Along with her looks and that smile of hers, she made him laugh. He couldn't remember laughing in a hell of a long time. And then she had that attitude. Looks, humor and attitude--hell--he was a goner. That made the situation a lot more dangerous. The last thing he needed was any chemistry between them. Hell. He was fucked. There were moments when the chemistry was off the charts. He couldn't lie to himself about that. He had to be careful with her. Sex wasn't going to help her situation, at least not now.

  "My God, Kitten, you're gorgeous. You're fucking beautiful." He couldn't help himself. He had to tell her, because she didn't know. He knew when women thought they were beautiful, and this one had no idea.

  Catarina's heart stuttered. Another compliment from Ridley, and it sounded genuine. She should have been just a little upset over the way he sounded, as if he was astonished, but no one had ever said anything like that to her before. Not ever. She blinked at him and all the attitude melted away. She didn't know what to say so she turned her back on him and walked toward her bedroom.

  "Wait." His voice was low. Sexy.

  She felt heat spreading. Looking over her shoulder at him, she raised an eyebrow, afraid to trust her voice.

  "I brought coffee. I wasn't certain if you were up already, but I couldn't carry it and the boxes. Two cups sitting right outside your door." He didn't wait to see if she'd get them, he just stalked through her living space and left her to it.

  Catarina took a deep breath. She had no idea how Ridley managed to get past her guard. No one ever did that, but he didn't even seem to notice she had barriers up at all. He didn't see her shields and she certainly wasn't invisible to him.

  "Do you have any tools? I should have asked you that."

  She yanked open the door and there were two cups from Poetry Slam sitting right outside where he'd said they would be. She brought them in, taking a sip of the one that was marked latte. Not as good as she made, but passable. She needed the caffeine if she was going to deal with Ridley Cromer. Last night he hadn't come inside, in fact if anything, he'd seemed a little distracted. He hadn't mentioned the security system again, so she had hoped he would forget all about it. Evidently he hadn't.

  "Tools, Kitten."

  "Malcom may have left a few lying around. He keeps most of his things in that corner over there." She waved her hand toward what she considered Malcom's mess. She didn't ever touch his things, so she didn't go near them, otherwise she'd never be able to stop herself from straightening everything up.

  The bed was her goal--to make it, not sleep in it. She caught his grin when he glanced into her bedroom and saw the covers all over the floor and partially off the bed.

  "You really wake up in a mood, don't you? I can't believe no one's ever mentioned it."

  She turned to face him. Throwing coffee would not only be childish, but stupid when she needed it. Besides, if she had to, she could always throw his cup at him.

  "No one ever sees me in the morning because I live alone."

  "You can't have lived alone your entire life, woman. Someone has to know you're a grump." Amusement crept into his tone.

  He sorted through the boxes without looking at her--a good thing, because she stiffened and then froze, her heart pounding in her throat. This kind of thing was exactly why she didn't let anyone into her life. She tasted fear in her mouth.

  She waited too long to answer and his head came up, his eyes on hers. He saw too much. He knew she was frozen, unable to speak. She could see it on his face. Ridley pushed the box he was opening aside and crossed the space to her. He had a gentle look on his face. He took his coffee cup from her hand and reached for her with the other, his palm sliding beneath her hair t
o curl around the nape of her neck.

  "It's all right, Kitten. I'm not trying to pry. Whatever is in your past, whoever scares the hell out of you, can stay there. I didn't mean to bring up ghosts with my teasing."

  Who acted like him? She'd never met anyone like him in her life and she'd been around nothing but men. No one looked at her like that, or spoke in that voice. They weren't kind. Or caring. They always had an agenda. If they were nice to her, it was to curry favor with their boss. If they weren't, it was because they were afraid if they were nice, their boss wouldn't like it much.

  She attempted a weak smile. He had to think she was a basket case. The thing was, she was only a crazy person around him. The rest of the time, her rules were in place and she led a happy, disciplined life.

  "Tell me you're all right. If you're not, we'll talk about this. And you clearly don't make sense when you wake up."

  The affection in his voice would have been her undoing, but he'd managed to annoy her again. "I make perfect sense. And I don't wake up grumpy."

  He grinned at her. "I've got tools in the truck. I'll get them. You can sit around, drink your coffee and admire the fact that I really do make perfect sense when I wake up. And I'm not grumpy."

  She glared at him. "Do you remember what I said about kicking you in the thigh and rolling you right out of here? The idea is looking better and better."

  "One little problem, Cat," he said, and leaned into her.

  He smelled as good as ever. Like outdoor, rain forest, jungle after the first rain. She inhaled because she had to, she'd run out of air. She drew his scent deep into her lungs. He surrounded her with heat. Up close he looked even more handsome than she'd first thought. He had a five-o'clock shadow, dark scruff she couldn't help but find sexy. His dark hair was in contrast with his strange but beautiful eyes. He had three scars, one by his left eye, one higher up by his temple and a longer one along his jaw. Even those scars didn't detract from his good looks and instead only added to them.

  She refused to back away. "What would that be?"

  "My hands aren't full," he said, and threaded his fingers through her hair, a soft glide that ran all the way from the top of her head to the ends at her waist before his fingers fell away. "The coffee I can get rid of in seconds and then you'd be in trouble."

  Her stomach did a roller coaster loop just as a million birds took wing, fluttering against her insides when his fingers moved through her hair. He had done it almost absently and he didn't call attention to doing it, but it felt sexy and sweet at the same time.

  "And, if you did succeed in dragging me out, I wouldn't be able to install your security system." He flashed a grin at her.

  He was dangerous to all women, but apparently to her in particular. Just looking at him turned her insides to mush. He melted her without trying, just by giving her a quick smile. Not even a high-wattage, just-for-her smile, just a casual one that showed his white teeth. And then there was his cocky, arrogant grin. She could weave tons of fantasy and perv around him for a good solid week with just one of his grins.

  "Fine, I won't try to take you down before you finish the security system."

  "I'm getting the tools out of my truck, so I'll be leaving the door open for a minute or two. Wouldn't want to have to lean on that buzzer."

  "I'm already tempted to use that thing for target practice," she admitted, but the coffee was doing its job, putting her in a better mood. Still, she needed clothes. Her tank wasn't covering much and as soon as he was outside, she was rushing to change.

  She dragged old faded jeans from the drawers in her bedroom, underwear and a soft T-shirt and raced for the bathroom. She managed to close and lock the door before she heard the heavy front door swing shut. She did a quick once-over, teeth, hair, face, and dragged on her clothes. She rarely wore shoes inside. Mostly she just wore her sweats so she could work out whenever she felt like it.

  Catarina loved her days off. She could be herself. She didn't have to be on her guard every moment. She didn't need to expend energy keeping her eyes on the floor and hiding behind baggy clothes and dark sunglasses. She read--a lot--listened to her music and spent hours punching and kicking the bag. She stretched and ate ice cream. She stretched more and drank coffee. She was free, and she enjoyed freedom.

  "Need some help, Cat," Ridley said as she emerged.

  He was up on a ladder. A really tall ladder. He had no problems invading Malcom's corner and confiscating anything he needed. Or maybe he'd brought the monstrosity. Either way, he was on nearly the very top rung and his hands were over his head, fiddling with a black mount.

  "What do you need me to do?"

  "You afraid of heights?" He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes taking her in, taking in the change of clothes and bare feet.

  Catarina suddenly wished she'd put on shoes. She could have fantasies about Ridley, but she knew better than to allow anything more than that, and bare feet brought some weird intimacy she hadn't expected. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes when he did just what he was doing now, his eyes, like melted gold, moving over her body with a hint of things she didn't quite understand.

  "No. I'm not afraid of heights."

  "Good." He turned back to his work. "Climb up behind me, baby, and pull that screwdriver out of my back pocket. I think you can lean around me and tighten that screw for me."

  Her breath caught in her throat. Her mouth suddenly went dry. "It takes two people to put one of those thingies up?" But already her hand had curled around the ladder. She wanted the security system up. She needed it up. She had no idea how she was going to repay him, but the idea of a few cameras and motion detectors right now, without having to wait a few months, was a huge relief.

  "Not as a rule. I was distracted and chose the wrong screwdriver. The other one is in my back pocket. I've got this thingie in the perfect place and you can get it secure for me if you're not afraid of heights."

  Amusement and a challenge. "You knew what I meant." She began her climb up the ladder. It was so secure it didn't even shake.

  "Kitten. No one says thingie."

  She loved his voice. His voice could make her forget everything. Even if it was for just a few moments. She had to put her hand on his back and then his shoulder to steady herself as she climbed past him. Pulling the screwdriver from his back pocket seemed more intimate than ever and it was just a tool.

  "Thingie is acceptable if everyone gets what it means," she insisted, and slid under his arm so that she could maneuver into position.

  She hadn't thought about how she was going to have to stand, feet on the ladder, her body inside the circle of his arm, stretched up, so that her butt was against his chest. She tried not to be aware of him as she began to twist the screw into the ceiling. It was difficult because his body was hot and the heat moved straight into her like a living flame, heating her blood and putting all kinds of crazy, erotic images in her head.

  "I want you to let me into your life," he said, his voice low. So low she almost didn't hear him.

  Her heart did a little stutter. "I don't let people into my life." She tried to be honest. He was so close she could smell him--that clean rain forest scent that took her to another place where there wasn't danger lurking in every corner.

  "I know that, Kitten," he said. "That's why I'm asking you to let me in."

  His body was rock hard. Oak tree hard. He was all roped muscle. She could feel his muscles through his thin shirt as she carefully turned the screwdriver.

  "Ridley, it's too dangerous to let anyone in right now." That was the most she could say, the only warning he would get. "Don't ask me questions, because I can't answer them, but not letting anyone into my life is so I know they're safe."

  That was way too much information. She knew she'd made a mistake by the way his body froze. He wasn't the kind of man to walk away from a woman in danger. She knew that. Why had she said something so stupid? Was she trying to get him killed?

  He mesmerized her. She just
blurted things out around him. Let him see who she was. Made her break every rule she had. But really? Asking her to let him into her life? How amazing was that? How many men were that sweet? He made her want to cry and she didn't cry. She never cried. Never. That was a rule too, an unbreakable one.

  "I know that too, baby," he said. "I'm not asking for anything but you to let me in. That's all. I've done dangerous before and I'll be careful."

  She felt his breath on her neck and she closed her eyes briefly against the tidal wave of need rising. She was so alone. She didn't have friends. She'd never had a friend. She tightened the screw and handed him the screwdriver. She had no choice but to put her hand on his shoulder as she began the climb down.

  "I don't want you dead." Catarina didn't look at him when she said it.

  He began screwing in the other side. "I won't get dead. We'll work out and I can show you some moves. Have coffee now and then. Sneak in a dinner, even if it's takeout. I like your company. Truth is, Kitten, I haven't had much to laugh about in a long time, and you do that for me."

  Her bare feet hit the floor and she rested her forehead on the rung, fists clenched around the ladder, breathing deep. Panic was close. He wasn't going away. She heard that in his voice. She knew he was persistent in his casual Zen way. He wasn't walking away from her and leaving her in her mess of a life.

  "I don't know what to do with you, Ridley."

  His laugh was unexpected. Low with a hint of gentleness in it. She felt his laughter move right through her body.

  She looked up at him, frowning. "Why is that funny?"

  He glanced down at her. "I knew you were going to give me attitude."

  His eyes were laughing, pure gold this time, and her stomach did that peculiar roll so rough that she pressed a hand to it, hard, trying to glare at him. "I was not giving attitude. It was a simple question. What was funny about what I said?"

  "You're the only woman on the face of this earth that would say that and mean it," he said.

  "Do you have any idea how arrogant you are?"