In the Enemy's Arms (20 page)

“Missing her mom?”

“Missing La Casa?”

Or maybe dreading bedtime? God, Justin couldn’t even bear to think of it.

He rolled onto his side, watching Cate and the sky. She continued to study the Sutton house and the property, and the sky did nothing besides give way to the occasional streak of a shooting star. Did Luisa see the stars? Did she know the American custom of wishing on one?

He did. He made a lot of wishes on the first one, beginning with Luisa, Trent and Susanna, and ending with Cate.

Propping his head on one fist, he watched her. “Tell me, doc, do you always overthink your relationships?”

If the subject change surprised her, she didn’t show it. “Only the important ones.”

“You didn’t overthink it with Trent.”

“No,” she agreed. “I didn’t think that one through enough.”

“How about the one with the cop?”

“AJ? We were friends, we dated, we had sex, we talked about marriage. It just sort of happened.”

“So what you’re saying is the only one you’re overthinking is me. Which makes me an important one.”

That brought her attention back from the house. “No, that’s not…but…”

It clearly frustrated her that she couldn’t argue with her own words, and that made him grin. “The ones you don’t think much about don’t last. So you’re thinking too much about this because it
could
last.” His vision now accustomed to the dark, he recognized the somberness of her expression, though he had to strain to hear her words.

“Because it could end badly.”

He was glad she could acknowledge that. “You could break my heart.”

She snorted.

“What? You don’t think I have a heart to break?”

“I think I could stop it, restart it and change its rhythm, and with time, medication and compliance, I could heal it, but break it? Me? I don’t think so.”

He touched her hair, sleek silky strands tucked behind her ears, and she went still, her breath little more than a whisper in the night. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, doc.”

For a long moment she continued to watch the house—more because she didn’t want to look at him, he thought, than because she did want to look at Luisa. Finally, though, she glanced his way. “Our lives are very different.”

“Are they? I go to bed at night. Do you? I get up in the morning and eat breakfast. I bet you do, too. I take care of what’s on my schedule, I pay my bills, I visit my family, I hang out with friends. I clean my house, I wash my dishes, I do my laundry and I spend time giving a little help where it’s needed. Which of those things do you not do?”

She blinked. “You clean your house?”

“Yeah. I know, you assumed I have a housekeeper. I don’t. But I do admit to having a lawn service take care of the yard both in Mobile and Coz since I do travel a lot.”

“I hardly travel at all. And certainly not in first class or by private jet when I do.”

“Is travel a deal breaker? You can’t fa—” he bit off the word and substituted another “—get involved with someone who travels? Even if everything else is good? Even if you’re happy and having a great time and the sex is incredible?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. And what makes you sure the sex would be incredible?”

He gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Because we’re talking about me, right?” Then his voice got husky. “And you. You’re special, Cate. Don’t try to kid yourself you’re not. And this thing between us… It’s special, too. You know it is, or you wouldn’t be afraid.”

It was probably an effect of the night, but in that moment she looked softer, more vulnerable, more desirable than he’d ever seen her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and closed her eyes, too, as if seeking another argument or the courage to give in to his.

Another argument won. “You live in Mobile. My life is in Copper Lake. I’ve been there a long time. I love my job and my friends and my home.”

“There are airplanes, trains, buses and cars running both ways.” He was silent, considering the wisdom of what he was about to say, then said it anyway. “I’m not tied to Mobile, Cate. I mean, I’ve lived there all my life except for college, and my parents are there, and I’d hate to leave the kids at the center, but nothing says I
have
to live there. I’ve just never found a good enough reason to move.”

She stared at him a long time, making him wish he could see her eyes, see what thoughts were going through her head. That they were getting way ahead of themselves, probably. That agreeing to see each other was a long way from making a life together. That the future they were discussing might never come. That a relationship between them could dwindle off into nothing, just like other relationships in their pasts.

But then, she was the expert at overthinking. He knew what he wanted, and if she wanted him, too, they could find a way to make it work.

“Maybe you give me too much credit,” she murmured before raising the binoculars again.

She didn’t believe she could break his heart. Didn’t believe he could want her, need her, love her enough.

He stared into the sky again, frustrated with her, with himself, with Trent and the cop and every other man she’d been with. It took a few deep breaths to blow out the irritation, a few deeper ones to calm himself. In another thirty-six hours, this mess would be over, one way or another. If they were still alive, if their lives went back to normal and he was still coming around, still coaxing her, still showing that he wanted her… Sooner or later, she would have to give him a chance, wouldn’t she?

With a sideways glance, he reminded himself who he was talking about: Cate Calloway, queen of hardheadedness.

But
he
was the king of stubborn. He could show her he was serious, not with words but with actions.

“Luisa’s leaving the kitchen.”

He rolled onto his stomach in time to see the kitchen go dark. No lights came on over the stairs. Either she was making her way up in the dark, or—

Dim light appeared from beneath the porch, filtered through curtains or shades. If the Suttons had bothered with landscaping around the house, it wouldn’t have been visible, but there it was, three narrow rectangles.

“A basement. And I can’t see a damn thing.”

Cate handed the binoculars to him, and he took a look. Six windows along the foundation, no more than a few inches above the ground, small, screened. “Maybe doing laundry is part of her chores.”

Then the lights went off in the center windows, and a moment later the third window turned dark, too. Except for what appeared to be the master bedroom, the house was pitch-black.

“Do you think she sleeps in the basement?” Cate’s voice quavered. “She’s eight years old living in a four-thousand-square-foot house with two adults, and she
sleeps
in the
basement?
”

“It could be worse, doc.”

She could be sleeping upstairs with the perv while his wife was gone.

A hell of a lot worse.

* * *

“There are no guarantees in life.” Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, Cate softly repeated the response her grandfather had always given her and her sisters when they complained.
You work hard, you do your best, you take the chances the good Lord gives you.

She’d worked hard and done her best at everything else, but not in her love life. Instead of trying to resolve issues with Trent, she’d grown resentful. Instead of holding out for real true love and happily ever after, she’d settled for good enough with AJ. Instead of taking chances, she’d wanted the sure thing.

On the surface, Justin was
not
a sure thing. But the surface was just that. Deep inside… He wanted her. He wasn’t promising forever; it would be nice, but no one could do that with certainty. Life got in the way. People changed. Hearts broke. But he was offering the next best thing: an opportunity. A commitment. In the end, it could come to nothing, or it could be—
he
could be—the best thing that ever happened to her. He could break her heart, or he could be the one she was meant to spend the rest of her life with.

Wasn’t one worth the risk of the other?

Steam fogged over the bit of mirror she’d cleared, making her image ghostly before obscuring it completely. She didn’t need to see to comb her hair, to brush her teeth or to add her damp towels to the pile left from Justin’s shower. She gathered her dirty clothes, opened the door to a blast of cold from the room and stepped out, leaving the light on, the door mostly closed.

He was lying on his stomach in bed, wearing nothing but boxers, studying a sheaf of the printouts Amy had sent. He glanced her way, then grinned. “Another niece?”

The pajama pants she wore were white with brightly colored owls, topped by a blue T-shirt embroidered with a trio of the birds. “We always have pajama parties when I visit. They take the pajama part of that very seriously.”

“You remind me of an owl sometimes when you look at me.”

“You think I’m wise?”

“I think you’ve got big pretty eyes.”

Hands unsteady, she put the bundle of clothes in the laundry bag, then lifted her suitcase to the floor. She was in sad shape when having her eyes compared to an owl’s made her hands shake. Primly she sat on the bed. “I’ve been thinking.”

He rolled onto one side, his body distracting her—all bronzed skin, defined muscle, ripped abs, gorgeous legs. “Aw, darlin’, didn’t we decide you think too much?”

“Do you have any condoms?”

Now it was his turn to do the owl look. She kept her gaze locked on his, refusing, however tempted, to check out any physical response he might have to the question. “I…uh…condoms…”

His cheeks turned deep bronze beneath his tan, and she marveled. Not only had she left him at a loss for words, she’d made him blush.

He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“You never leave home without them. Is that it?”

“No. I mean, no, I don’t always have them. I don’t just assume that there’s always going to be some woman who can’t resist me.” He shuffled the papers together and put them on the night table, then rolled to sit up. “I have them now because, uh, Alex always, uh, keeps them on the plane, and I took a couple, uh, just in case…”

She found comfort in his discomfort. He was as vulnerable about this sex business as she was, and that bolstered her confidence. “Because you figured eventually I wouldn’t be able to resist you?”

The unease disappeared from his eyes, his expression turning serious and intense. “No, doc. I knew
I
couldn’t resist
you.
As for you, I was…hopeful.”

Hopeful.
Just the word gave her a lovely tingle deep inside. To think that a man like Justin—obscenely wealthy, sinfully handsome and wickedly sexy—would
hope
for her… There were a million women prettier than her at home in his social world, better suited to him in every way, and he’d picked
her.

For the time being,
the insecurity in her reminded her.

At the moment, that was enough. Spending time with him, learning to like him and to trust him, maybe even falling in love with him—this was one of those opportunities Granddad had talked about, and she intended to make the best of it. If it didn’t last, if the future she hoped for didn’t come to pass, at least she would have the comfort of knowing she’d given it her best shot.

And if the Wallace brothers killed them in thirty-six hours, what did the future matter?

He was staring at her, his hands resting on his thighs, his bare feet almost toe to toe with her slippers. She wished she’d taken time to dry her hair. That she’d spritzed on a bit of perfume. That she’d packed something silky and sheer and incredibly sexy to put on so he could take it off.

As if she even owned anything silky, sheer and sexy. That wasn’t who she was. This—damp hair, pajamas dotted with owls or kissing lips or flamingos, fuzzy pink slippers—this was who she was. Who he wanted.

A quick glance lower left no doubt of that.

Still, she hesitated. “Do you think it’s terribly unromantic, talking this way?”

His mouth quirked. “Logic and reason can be romantic in their own way. I’d rather know you’d considered all the possible results and decided you wanted to do it anyway than that you got swept away by my boyish charm and regretted it tomorrow morning.”

She sniffed. “Sometimes your charm is about on a par with a snake.”

He took no offense but smiled the way a snake might in baring its fangs. That ability to shrug off her comments was one of the things she liked about him.

One of many.

Uncertainty claimed her again. She slipped off the fuzzy pinks, then dug her toes into the soles as she stood. Now what? Her first time with Trent had started with a kiss and ended on the floor in a jumble of clothes just short of her bed. Her first time with AJ and pretty much everyone in between had happened the same way. Now that she’d talked the spontaneity right out of the situation…

Justin shut off the bedside lamp, then reached unerringly for her. His hands settled at her waist and drew her closer, tugging her down onto the mattress beside him. “Come here,” he murmured, his mouth brushing hers. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

The sheets were warm where he’d lain, and more heat radiated from his body. She had a moment to think how good he smelled, wickedly expensive and sexy and masculine, then his mouth covered hers and all she could think was
good
. He loomed over her, his knees settling outside hers, and she slid her hands to his shoulders, then glided one hand into his hair while the other grazed his neck and the stubble of his jaw.

His skin was smooth, silken, hot, and it warmed her skin while his tongue heated her from the inside out. He was amazing to the touch, cervical vertebra one, two, three, trapezius muscle, scapula, thoracic one, two, three. She knew the parts of the body intimately, having studied, touched, repaired, dissected, but knowing
the
body had nothing on learning
Justin’s
body. His was perfection. And for tonight, it was hers.