Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (22 page)

Her smile was so wide her cheeks hurt. She charged at Hank and pushed him onto her bed. “Really, Hank. You’re amazing.”

His breathing escalated immediately. He weaved his fingers through her hair and pulled her on top of his body, kissing her with long, hungry sweeps of his tongue. Her own breath felt shallow as she hastily removed his shirt. His touch felt like home.

“Catalina,” he whispered as his mouth lingered at the sensitive spot
below her ear. “Tell me this means as much to you as the business.”

“No talking. Just kiss me.”

He paused, as if deciding whether to press for an answer. Then his
dimple reappeared on that left cheek. “I loved unpacking your lingerie.
Show me what you’re wearing today.” He nuzzled the spot beneath her
ear and she felt the corners of his mouth curl in anticipation of her reply.

“My favorite color.” She weaved her fingers through his hair.

His head popped up, and he eagerly shoved her shirt up to peek. Delight enveloped his features when he exposed a fire-engine-red bra with pink ribbon accents. “Red’s my new favorite color.” He slipped his finger inside the bra to push it out of the way before he began kissing his way down her chest.

“Mm,” she murmured.

Slowly, Hank stripped her clothes away until they were both naked on her bed. She savored the scent of his skin, the feel of his hard muscles beneath her hands, the heaviness and heat of the friction created as they moved against each other.

He rolled on top of her and smiled. “I’ve been picturing us in this bed since the first time I saw this room.” He kissed her again. His damp, hot breath whispered against her ear as he nibbled on her earlobe. “I can never get enough of you.” She felt his erection pressing against her thigh and reached for the thick shaft. He groaned as the muscles in his back rippled, making her feel sexy and powerful.

“Me on top.” She rolled him over. “Hands above your head.”

Hank’s intense expression indicated he was restraining his impulse to take her quickly. He grabbed the top of her headboard as her tongue stroked the centerline from his chest to his navel.

Hank was huge and hard—intimidating—but she’d never backed down from anything, so she sucked him into her mouth as deeply as she could.

“Cat!” Hank swore. The muscles in his arms bulged. His knuckles whitened against the edge of the headboard. His head fell back and groans of pleasure tore through his chest.

She cupped him and pumped him with her mouth while his body writhed beneath her. Within a minute she felt his hands on her head.

“Catalina,” he uttered while yanking her up the length of his torso. He growled something unintelligible before plundering her mouth with his tongue.

In two seconds, she was on her back with him buried inside her. He watched her face intently. With each thrust of his hips, he exclaimed her name in passionate, rasped whispers until they exploded together in a dizzying orgasm. Afterward, he cuddled her against his body and stroked her hair.

She felt lazy, happy—an unfamiliar contentedness unique to being with Hank. She closed her eyes, determined to enjoy it without analyzing it further.

Cat lay in the afterglow of lovemaking until a sprig of panic twisted through her mind, puncturing her short-lived sense of peace.

Justin had caused her to fear men. Her diagnosis had caused her to fear commitment. Now Hank was causing her to fear being alone.

He made it all but impossible to resist the pull in her heart—the thrilling sense of falling from a cliff with the security of landing gently in warm water. She owed Hank better than withholding her affection, than withholding the truth.

But keeping quiet allowed this little bit of happiness to go on. He liked her, might even be falling in love with her, but could she hold on to a man who so clearly valued family when she couldn’t give him one? Wouldn’t that only bring them both pain?

Hank lifted onto his elbows and kissed her eyelids. “I meant to take my time, but you knocked me off my game with your little power play.” His expression suddenly shifted to one of concern. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Is it Justin?”

“It’s not Justin.” She closed her eyes, unprepared to have a serious discussion.

“Is it us?”

She opened her eyes, and swallowed hard, but words wouldn’t come.

“Stop running from me, Cat. I won’t hurt you or let you down or lie or whatever the hell all the other men you’ve known have done to make you so wary.”

His gaze never wavered, but hers did. “You think you know me, but I’m not the glamorous, confident woman in magazines.”

“I don’t want her, Cat. I like you best when you let your hair down, like the night we met, or the time I found you scrubbing my mom’s mirror, or watching you joke around with your brother. That’s the woman I love. Fancy clothes and pictures don’t mean a thing to me.”

A brief smile curled her lips.
The woman I love.
But then she remembered her huge secret. “Maybe, but there are other things you don’t know. Things I can’t change. Things that aren’t so easy to accept.”

“We all have flaws. Trust me, Cat. Let me in.”

Hank deserved someone who wasn’t afraid of commitment. Someone who could embrace her own emotions. Someone completely, unselfishly honest.

Even if Cat found the courage to become that better woman and even if he thought he loved her enough to give up biological children, would he regret or resent that choice later?

And if she really loved him, how could she even consider putting him in that position?

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it better.” But he stopped pressing when a tear ran down her cheek. He wiped it away. “Sorry. Don’t cry.”

He kissed her. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk. Just remember, whatever it is you think I can’t handle, you’re probably wrong. Look at my life, look at what I’ve borne for the people I love.”

“Exactly why you deserve an easy, uncomplicated relationship. You are such a good man. Whatever happens in the future, know that no one has ever meant as much, or given me as much peace and comfort, as you have. I can never repay that.” When she saw his face twist with frustration, she brushed his jaw with her fingers. “It’s been an emotional morning. Can we end this discussion for now? We’ve got the show in two days. Let’s get through that first, okay?”

Relenting, he sighed. “Speaking of which, I should probably head back up to Connecticut. Lots to do before I pack up the truck and hit the road. You’re getting off easy by flying.”

“Sorry, but I need to be there early to meet with the exhibition installation group I hired. By the time you arrive, I’ll have everything settled. We’ll be able to get a decent night’s sleep before the show.”

“Sleep?” He kissed her neck. “I can think of better ways to pass the time in a nice hotel room.”

“Actually, so can I.”

He slipped his fingers through her hair while his eyes drank in every aspect of her face. She felt him trace her collarbone then his hand wrapped around her nape while he gently pulled her into a kiss. “It’s a date.”

He eased away, but Cat caught his arm. “Thank you for today . . . with Justin, and everything you just said. Your feelings matter to me more than you know. It may not seem like it, but I really am trying to protect both of us from getting hurt.”

“I don’t need protection, Cat. I need you.” He kissed her one last time. “I’m patient, but even I won’t wait forever.”

Mom,

The trade show is tomorrow. Are you proud of me? I haven’t seen Dad, although he’s called me a few times with lots of unsolicited advice about my plans. I know, I know . . . he means well.

So much on the line: my reputation, Hank’s financial stability . . . my heart. Of course, that last part has nothing to do with the show. Hank’s not the only one who’s sick of the limbo. I’ve made a decision. I’m going to tell him everything once we return from Chicago.

Wish me luck.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

H
ank wrapped a towel around Cat as they stepped out of the hotel shower, pulling her against his body for another kiss.
Best. Damned. Morning
. Waking up wrapped around her body ranked as the number-one morning of his adult life, even if it was only five thirty a.m. and the sun hadn’t risen.

An auspicious start to an important day.

“Too bad this morning has to end so soon,” she murmured in his ear.

Since he’d arrived in Chicago, she’d been anxious—and intense. Physically, she’d barely let go of him—which he liked—but he’d also caught glimpses of sorrow or regret, maybe even fear, in her eyes. At first he’d assumed the show had her keyed up, but instinct told him otherwise.

Of course, there had been a tiny brouhaha when a picture of him holding Justin on the pavement showed up on Instagram later that day. Some people had made nasty comments suggesting she liked violent men, which hadn’t been flattering to either her or him. But if anything, most people had seemed sympathetic.

Cat had issued one brief statement about putting it behind her and focusing on her new venture. Within twenty-four hours the frenzy had died down, so he doubted the incident would hurt Cat’s and his business.

Her hands swept across his back and over his hips, making him get hard for the millionth time since he’d arrived last night. When she pinched his ass, he bit her earlobe. “We should get going.”

“I know.” Cat kissed his neck while her hand clamped around his hard-on. “Can’t seem to help myself. Up for a quickie?”

The towel fell away and her nipples tightened against his chest, sending another surge of desire through him. In no time, he lifted her and carried her into the bedroom, teasing. “Probably a good idea for us to release a little tension before our big day.”

He crawled on top of her and thrust inside her body in one swift motion, foreplay unnecessary in the heat of the moment. He buried himself completely, staying deep while kissing her and undulating his hips ever so slightly. Nothing was more beautiful than the sight of her heated face and swollen lips.
Mine.

Had what he’d said the other day made a difference, made her consider opening up? He needed her to trust him . . . trust in them.

“Hank,” she moaned, rocking her hips. Her eyelids drifted closed as she arched her back.

He took one breast into his mouth, and his pace steadily increased while he teased her with his tongue.

“Hank,” she panted. “God, yes. Faster . . . faster, please.”

He answered her siren call by slamming himself inside her until she cried out and her muscles clamped around him, milking every last drop of strength from his body.

Once his heart rate slowed, he propped up on his elbows and kissed her.
Heaven.
Funny he could be so optimistic about the future despite the fact he was broke, lived with his mother, and had no plan B. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to worry or plan or be cautious. He wanted to live in the moment.

He wished they could stay here in bed indefinitely, but the clock was ticking and the doors opened to the public in several hours. “Okay, now we really have to go.”

“I know.” She grimaced.

Hank traced his finger from her forehead to the tip of her nose then kissed her quickly. “Get dressed.”

Then his phone buzzed. “Jenny, you’re calling pretty early. Everything okay?”

“Helen had to cancel today and Meg is working. I guess I’m going to have to miss class today, unless you know someone else to call.”

“There isn’t anyone else.” He’d never needed other backup because he’d always been there to take care of any problem. He could hear Jenny’s anxiety, but at twenty, she should be more than capable of handling their mom for one day. Hell, he’d started taking on grown-up responsibilities at seventeen. “Keep her comfortable. Play music she likes, maybe read to her from one of those magazines. If you’re nervous about her choking, feed her yogurt and Ensure. Will Helen be there tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. She’s sick.”

Dammit.
No one would accuse Hank of being superstitious, yet Helen’s sudden illness seemed like a bad omen.

“I’ll be home in two days. Hang in there.”

“But Mom’s really fussy again. And today her eyes look weird, like they’re sunken in.”

“I know she’s been more irritable and sleepless lately, but I think it’s just the disease progressing. If you’re really worried, see if Meg can come over to check on her later.”

“Okay.” Jenny paused. “Good luck today, Hank.”

Hank tossed his phone on the bed and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He couldn’t afford to divide his focus. Schmoozing potential customers would require his full attention today.

“You look upset.” Cat tied the belt of her wrap dress. Even in casual clothing, she was breathtakingly pretty.

“Jenny’s on her own with my mom all day. She’s nervous, but it should be okay as long as my mom doesn’t fall or something.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Try to put it out of your mind because we need to concentrate on this show.”

“About that.” He hesitated, knowing his next words might freak her out. He should’ve brought this up before now, but it seemed like the world had conspired to keep him quiet. “What would you say to making a last-minute change?”

“Tell me you’re joking.” Cat’s hands stilled. “Not joking?”

“Every time I meant to talk about this, we got sidetracked by other issues, most recently Justin. I wanted to keep you happy and decided I’d just do it your way and see how it went. But on my drive up I had a lot of quiet time to think, and now I’m convinced I need to say how I feel before we actually go out there today.”

She flicked one hand out in question. “And?”

“The thing I love most about building furniture is the artistry. Approaching each piece and making it unique. Letting the wood grains inspire me and dictate the shape and form of the furniture. I want to be free to make any design that comes to me, not have to replicate a handful of pieces over and over.” When her forehead creased, he added, “Besides, you said your friend’s privately commissioned table sold for top dollar. Custom design, one-of-a-kind pieces will give us a bigger profit margin and make the brand more distinctive—make it synonymous with individuality.”

“And limit our customer base.” She chewed her lip. “No inns, offices, retailers.”

Hank shrugged. “Let’s establish ourselves as the ‘Armani’ of furniture first, and then you can figure out how to mass produce knockoffs and sell those to hotels and offices and whomever else you please.”

Cat sighed, her expression pinched with concern. “This completely
changes our business model. Now these pamphlets depicting the lines and prices aren’t accurate, Hank. I don’t think we can use them.”

“I’m sorry, but better we begin as we mean to go on. We’ve got business cards. We’ll spend the next two days touting the benefits of having a ‘Mitchell/St. James original.’ Sell it like artwork instead of furniture. The website is less than a week old, so we can make modifications there without much notice.”

She nodded, although she didn’t look convinced. “I wish you’d have spoken up sooner. You’ve blindsided me and now I’m going in unprepared. I’d kind of mastered the basics of what I
thought
was our plan. Now that’s meaningless. So you’d better be prepared to do most of the talking today, because I don’t know how to describe the nuts and bolts of what you do. And without brochures to hand visitors, are you up to the task? We can’t appear unprofessional.”

“Are you kidding? I’m excited to discuss my work . . . to discuss my ‘vision,’ as you say. Don’t worry, people will remember us.”

She folded her arms, looking out the window over the city. Finally she huffed a short breath and shrugged.

“It’s not ideal, but you need to be happy with your work. We don’t have time to debate the issue now, so there’s nothing else to say.” She worried her lip, brows drawn. “Promoting it like art instead of furniture is a good angle.”

He grabbed her and kissed her. “I promise I’ll never pull something like this again, okay?”

“Get dressed.” She smoothed her hair. “We have to get to the Merchandise Mart and make sure everything
else
is perfect before the doors open to the public.”

Cat’s stomach burned. Foot traffic in the neighboring showrooms exceeded that in theirs. Of course, those other rooms housed established furniture lines like Baker and Marge Carson. Companies with more history, products, details, and thick brochures!

Although she’d never been uncomfortable strutting on any stage, today she felt like a poser. She
was
a poser. Her and Hank’s lack of experience showed. She’d rushed ahead and gotten them in over their heads, just as David and Jackson predicted.

The sales pitch she’d practiced and promoted no longer applied, which left her a little tongue-tied and left designers empty-handed when they wandered off to the next installation.

Of course, Hank’s sexy mix of laid-back charm and passion excited a few designers who spoke with him at length. Still, she couldn’t tell whether or not anything would come of the money or effort she’d put into this show.

“You might want to smile if you hope to draw people in,” Hank teased.

She must’ve been scowling when the only visitors in their exhibition room exited.

“I’m upset.”

“Why? So far the people I’ve spoken with seem genuinely inter
ested in my work. I feel great!”

“I can only hope you’re making a big enough impression that they
will remember you after visiting one hundred other showrooms, because
we’ve got nothing to hand them when they leave. Those brochures cost
twenty-four hundred dollars . . .” She rubbed the creases between her
eyebrows with her thumb. “How are you estimating pricing on cus
tom
ized furniture? Granted, your things look beautiful and attract
interest, but who knows if any of it will convert to a single sale?”

She’d poured so much of herself and her hopes into this little company, she didn’t know what she’d do if they went home empty-handed. Worse, she’d be on the receiving end of told-you-so looks from her family, her agent, and Hank’s sisters.

“I’ll repay you for the brochures.” Hank looked chastened, which wasn’t what she’d intended. Crap, not even “the model” could wear anxiety well.

“It’s not the money, Hank. It’s the lack of professionalism that
makes me uncomfortable. I never went to a shoot or a show unprepared. Everything was perfect—at least, everything within my control. Winging it is extremely awkward.”

“I know you’re upset, and I know this show is important.” Hank rubbed her upper arms. “But this is a
first
show. I doubt anyone expects us to be as polished as companies that have been around for years. Let’s keep that perspective and try to have a
little
fun. Other people will be turned off if we’re uptight. It’s a win if we really impress a handful of people this weekend, so don’t worry if we don’t excite a thousand. Everything will be okay.”

“It’s easier for you to say that when you’re relatively anonymous.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “I’ve got a brand to protect. My name and reputation on the line.”

“We’ve
both
got a lot at stake, Cat.” Thankfully his phone buzzed, because Cat didn’t like his perturbed tone, or the reminder that his family’s finances were on the line. “Jenny?”

Silence.

“Aw, dammit.” Hank grimaced before pressing his hand against his forehead. “Take a breath and slow down.”

Cat could hear Jenny’s wail from two feet away.

“Dehydrated? How’d that happen?”

Cat bit her lip and stared at his pained expression. It sounded like something happened to his mother—something dire. She reached for him, but he shrugged away, intent on calming Jenny. “In an ambulance?” Hank winced at whatever Jenny said next. “Please stop crying, Jenny. It’s not your fault. I’ll get home as soon as possible. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He’ll what?

He slipped his phone in his breast pocket and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Cat, I’ve got to go. I thought my mom’s disease was just getting worse recently, but in fact we were seeing the side effects of serious dehydration. Dammit, how could I have missed it?” He raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Hank.” When she hugged him, his tension vibrated throughout her body. “Is Meg with her? Does
she
think you need to come home?”

“I didn’t talk to Meg. She was in the ambulance with the EMTs. Jenny was following in Meg’s car.”

“Well, there you go. That’s perfect. Meg’s a nurse. She’ll make sure your mom gets all the right care from the best doctors. Take a breath and try to calm yourself.”

“Calm down? This is my fault! I’ve been so busy with you, I neglected my own mother.
I
missed the signs.” Hank started searching for new flights on his phone.