“It pays well.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Now you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.” She sat back again and sipped at her espresso, watching him carefully over the rim of the mug.
“Well. Yeah. I have to admit when you get all fired up with that attitude of yours, I’m a goner for you. That does it for me the way Zen does it for you.”
She burst out laughing. “Eat a beignet, Ridley, and your fantasies will really take off. They’re better than my attitude.”
He found himself laughing with her. She was even more beautiful when she laughed. The sound was soft and musical, and her eyes lit up. Her perfect bow of a mouth drew his attention, and his fantasies turned totally erotic just sitting there at the breakfast table. He snagged a beignet. The sugary, doughy dessert was still warm, the taste mixing with the espresso in his mouth, and he knew he would never forget that moment, sitting across from her, laughing and eating the best meal of his life.
No one had ever given him the kind of concern she had, worried about what he did for a living, and damn, she did it looking so beautiful his heart ached. She had pulled her legs up onto the chair and was sitting tailor fashion while she ate her breakfast. It was the first time he had ever seen her truly relaxed. She wasn’t thinking about being scared. For those few minutes, he’d chased the shadows from her eyes, and he liked being the one who’d done it.
He was older than she was, and he didn’t settle down with women, but he’d had a lot of them. He’d never sat across with one of them having breakfast, so relaxed, and that was saying a lot. He didn’t share breakfast with women. They used each other and then he left. Period. No sleeping in the same bed, no breakfast in the morning. He was gone.
“Got to get back to work, but this was fantastic, Cat. I appreciate you going to all the trouble.” He stood up and pushed back his chair.
She tilted her head up toward his, her blue eyes moving over his face as if memorizing every detail. “Thanks, Ridley, for the security system. It really helps. You can’t know how much.”
Her eyes were soft. Her perfect mouth smiled at him. Her gorgeous hair spilled around her like a waterfall of dark silk. His hand moved before he could think. He had no idea what possessed him, but he couldn’t stop himself, and he was a man all about control and discipline. His fingers buried in all that silk and fisted there, tugging until her head was back. He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her mouth.
His stomach rolled. His cock hardened. With one touch. One. Fucking. Touch. Electricity crackled and his pulse thundered in his ears. Lightning flashed through his veins so his blood ran hot.
He stepped away and turned without another word, not looking at her face, not daring to. He might have just blown it big-time, but now he had her taste in his mouth and it was far sweeter and tastier than the beignet.
Catarina closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. He’d kissed her. Kissed her. She knew, to him, it was just a small gesture of thanks, or “you’re welcome,” depending. He probably hadn’t felt anything at all. It wasn’t like it was a real kiss, with mouths open and tongues involved. It was brief. Hardly there. But she didn’t care. It was a kiss. And from Ridley. She could perv on that for months.
She risked a glance and he was back installing cameras, so she rose and did the dishes, hugging the moment to herself. Their perfect moment. No one could ever take that away from her. Not even if everything went south and she was found and dragged back or killed, she would have that moment.
She was wrong to be friends with him. To risk him. But maybe, if she was careful, she could keep the risk to a minimum.
4
“WE’RE going to have to hire some help if the crowds get any bigger,” David announced.
Catarina glanced up from behind the coffee machine. The crowd vying for coffee was three deep. She could speed up, but the machine couldn’t. “I’m sorry, David, I can only work so fast,” she told him.
“No, this is good. I’m loving this,” David said. “Your boyfriend’s back.”
Catarina’s head came up and she looked around Poetry Slam. It was crowded, but she knew she would always, always, know when Ridley was in a room, and he hadn’t come in. They spent a lot of time together, mostly in her warehouse. His latest endeavor was tiling the shower and putting in plumbing.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she denied.
David took another order and then nudged her. “Seriously, Cat, his lovesick poems are getting hard to take. All that unrequited love pouring out for the world to see. You’ve got to put the man out of his misery and go out on a date with him.”
She took a breath. He wasn’t talking about Ridley. Ridley came every night to walk her home, but he stayed in the corner after he ordered his coffee, reading. He made certain she was safe walking home, but he never acted interested in her publicly. And since that one brief kiss at breakfast, he hadn’t made any other moves.
He did spar with her a lot. She knew she was improving. He showed her all kinds of self-defense moves. He was an exacting teacher and he didn’t like it if she messed up. He sometimes scowled at her, his golden eyes glittering with anger.
That will get you dead if you don’t do the move right. Pay attention to what you’re doing, Cat. If your head isn’t in the game, we can do this another day.
He said that a lot. She always paid more attention and tried harder. She kept to her routine, working out on her own, running before work, going to the shooting range as often as she had the money for. She slept a lot easier with the security system. Ridley had placed the monitor right by her bed so when she activated the system, she could see each individual area the cameras covered. She could zoom in and she could record.
Ridley always walked her home, and he never allowed her entry until he’d checked the place out first. She’d been a little uncomfortable with him going into her bedroom the first few times, but she’d gotten used to the way he was about protecting women. Clearly, it was just who he was. And she liked who he was.
Twice he gave her a hard time because she’d left her safe open and the cash in plain sight. Both times he’d been concerned someone had been there, but she’d just forgotten that when she closed the door she had to bang it with her fist to get the stupid thing to close all the way. She’d found the safe in a thrift store and it was old and tired. Still, it worked just fine for her.
“Cat, don’t go all silent on me,” David cautioned. “I’m just trying to keep Bernard from getting his heart ripped out when the masses rise up and rip the microphone out of his hands.”
“Bernard?” Catarina handed David another drink, this one a simple mocha latte, one of the easier drinks those in the crowd asked for. “You think I’m going to go on a date with Bernard? Our main poet? He’s supposed to be my mythical boyfriend?” She hissed it at David. “I don’t date. Not ever. Are you crazy? He doesn’t even notice me. My coffee yes, me no.”