But his mind only wanted to explore one thing tonight.
He gave up and went to bed.
He lay on his back and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t look at the windows of the apartment above the garage. He tried not to think about the woman who was there.
He didn’t want what she wanted. But apparently he didn’t want what Milos wanted, either—or not with any woman other than Cat.
He couldn’t sleep. Midnight turned to one. One became two. And he was still awake when there was a rapping sound on the back door. Tino’s would have just closed, and Milos, damn it, must have forgotten his key.
So he hadn’t got lucky then? That was surprising. He looked to have been making all the right moves.
It would serve him right if Yiannis left him to sleep on the chaise longue all night. Except Milos being the intrepid flirt that he was, he might climb the stairs and wake up Cat, grinning and asking to spend the night there.
Yiannis threw back the sheet and the thin blanket and padded to the back door, flicked on the light and jerked the door open.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” said Cat.
CHAPTER FIVE
“WHAT’S wrong?” Yiannis demanded. “Where’s Harry?”
Cat, her arms wrapped across her breasts, just shook her head. Her eyes were huge and her hair was flying all over the place. Her freckles threatened to take over the entire western world. “He won’t stop crying.”
She looked like she was about to start crying herself.
But the fact that this was only about the crying made Yiannis take a breath of relief. “He will.” But even as he reassured her, Yiannis knew her desperation personally. He’d felt it himself last night.
“I’ve tried everything. I’ve given him bottles. I’ve fed him food. I’ve carried him and rocked him and patted him on the back. He just keeps screaming.”
“Ever since you left?” Yiannis stared at her.
“Not quite. When I went to put him down. Stop looking at me like that. I didn’t do anything!”
She didn’t have to. She just had to stand there and he couldn’t help staring. His reaction had little to do with Harry and everything to do with the woman on his doorstep. She wasn’t wearing merely a T-shirt and panties this time. She was fully dressed in shorts and a long-sleeve pullover, but he had to ball his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her. Maybe it was her vulnerability, the desperation on her face. Maybe it was that seeing her again over the past twenty-four hours had made him realize how much he’d missed her. Maybe it was that he remembered all too well the way she felt in his arms.
But he had no pockets to stuff his hands in. And in fact he was in serious danger of making his interest quite clear.
Figuring the knock at the door was Milos, Yiannis had answered it wearing only his boxers, and they were going to betray him if he didn’t get some shorts on quick.
“Go back up. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She didn’t argue. She just gave him a grateful smile. “Th-thank you.” And then she turned and hurried back toward the stairs to the apartment.
Yiannis strode back into his room and yanked on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. It was March. The nights were cool—and jeans were less likely to betray him than a pair of shorts. Or maybe he’d get a grip and remember that this was Cat who wanted love and family and forever. That surely ought to dampen his ardor.
He could hear Harry crying before he was halfway across the patio. It was the same distraught sound he’d heard the night before. He knew first-hand how it could make you doubt your wisdom, your intelligence, and your ability to deal with a small person’s needs.
He pounded up the steps and pushed open the door which Cat had left ajar. She was pacing away from him, making a circuit of the living room with Harry sobbing uncontrollably in her arms. For a small boy he had a powerful set of lungs. Yiannis could see his face screwed up, eyes closed, over Cat’s shoulder. Then he opened them, and stopped mid-cry at the sight of Yiannis in the doorway.
The sudden silence and a single hiccupped sob had her spinning around.
“Oh, fine,” she said in a tone somewhere between asperity and relief. “One look at you and he quits.”
But just as Yiannis was about to grin and do his “aw shucks” routine, Harry’s face crumpled and he began to bellow again.
“When did this start?”
Cat shook her head. “First I gave him a bath and read him a couple of stories. Well, you know—” she shrugged “—he tried to eat the books more than listen to them. But we read. And then I gave him a bottle and he fell asleep and I thought everything was fine. Everything was fine,” she insisted. “And then, about an hour later, he woke up. Fussing at first. Then crying. Then screaming. Like this.” She didn’t need to explain.
“He cried last night, too.”
“He wasn’t crying when I woke you. He was asleep.”
“On my chest.”
She looked at his. “The chest was significant?”
Yiannis shrugged. “It worked.”
“So you think, if I lie down with him on my chest …” Cat ventured.
Sudden visions of Cat with a baby nestled against her breasts danced in his brain—and started to have an effect on the rest of him.
“I’ll do it,” Yiannis said abruptly and lifted the howling baby out of Cat’s arms. “Shhh,” he told Harry, rocking him. “It’s all right.”
Harry clearly disagreed. But the sudden transfer from Cat’s arms to Yiannis’s distracted him momentarily. He looked into Yiannis’s face with something like surprise and then recognition. Then he grasped Yiannis’s hand and began to gnaw on his fingers.
“Ow.” Yiannis started to pull them away, but when Harry’s small face puckered up to let go with another wail, he immediately put his fingers back, easing them to the side against Harry’s gums and not his very sharp front teeth.
The baby glommed down hard on them.
“Teething,” Yiannis decided. Harry had probably been teething last night, too. But he hadn’t considered that then. Now he said to Cat, “Does Maggie have any brandy?”
“You want a drink? Now?”
“Not for me. For him.” He dipped his head and his lips touched Harry’s damp hair. The little boy wasn’t crying now, but he was grinding his gums against Yiannis’s fingers. He had very powerful jaws.
“You can’t give him brandy!” Cat was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Not a glass full. My mother used to rub it on babies’ gums. Numbed them.”
Cat looked at him doubtfully. “Misty would probably have us arrested for child abuse.”
“We could have Misty arrested for child neglect,” Yiannis countered. “Who’s here and who dumped him and went to Germany?”
“She left him with Gran.”
“And Maggie left him with me. And you. So … does she have brandy or not?”
“Not. But now that you mention teething—” She went into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets, then spun around, holding up a small dark brown bottle.
“What’s that?”
“Gran’s cure. Vanilla extract.” She was unscrewing the cap as she spoke. “I hope this works.”
Yiannis did, too. He figured it was much the same principle as his mother’s brandy cure. And he was pretty sure this was teething, because when he pulled his fingers out of Harry’s mouth, the little boy once more began to wail.
“Put a bit in a bowl,” Yiannis instructed, and when she did, he dipped a finger in, then poked it in Harry’s open mouth again and began to rub it on Harry’s sore gums. Harry’s eyes widened. He hiccupped a sob, then he glommed onto Yiannis’s fingers, crushing them between his gums.
“Better?” Yiannis asked him.
Harry gave a loud sniffle. But even as he sniffled, Harry pressed closer to Yiannis’s chest and laid his head against Yiannis’s shoulder.
“I’ll take him,” Cat offered.
But Yiannis shook
his head. He didn’t want any more visions of Cat carrying a baby. “He’s all right.” Slowly he began to walk the length of the living room and back again with Harry’s small body snug against him. Harry’s mouth worked against his fingers. He didn’t cry. The sobs had turned into occasional sniffles. Finally after he’d made several more circuits of the room, Cat said in barely more than a whisper, “His eyes are closing.” She sounded as if she was afraid to believe it. “Maybe he’s going to sleep.”
“We can hope.” But he kept walking just to make sure. And he wasn’t ready to go home. Not now. Not yet.
“I think he’s asleep,” Cat said. “His head is sinking.”
It was nestled against his shoulder. She was right. Harry was completely limp. Sound asleep.
“Well,” Cat said. “Thank you.”
Yiannis grunted. “It was your idea.”
“I’m sure the brandy would have worked,” she said. “But you know what doctors are saying these days. And if Misty found out—”
“Misty isn’t here. So she’s got nothing to complain about.”
“She would, though,” Cat said. “If I did it, she’d complain.”
“No love lost?”
Cat shook her head. “She always … resented me. When I moved in with Gran and Walter, her nose was out of joint. Even though she had parents and mine had died, she was always sort of—I don’t know—jealous, I guess. She wanted whatever I had. Like y—” Abruptly Cat closed her mouth and wrapped her arms across her breasts.
Yiannis raised his brows. “Like?” he queried.
But Cat shook her head. “Never mind. He’s sound asleep now. Look at him.”
Yiannis didn’t. “Like me?” he pressed her.
Cat opened her mouth, then pressed her lips into a thin line. “For all the difference it would have made,” she said finally.
“I was never interested in Misty.” But he did remember Misty making a play for him.
Cat shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Does it?” There was challenge in her eyes.
Yiannis sighed. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know that,” she said sharply. “You were just telling me the truth. I’ve got it. I accept it. I’ve moved on.” She held up her hand and flashed her engagement ring at him, in case he didn’t get what she was telling him.
He got it. His jaw tightened.
Cat spread her hands. “And you’ve done … whatever it is you do. So since Harry’s finally asleep, can we just put him to bed?” She looked equal parts annoyed and exhausted, and once more Yiannis felt an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms.
But he already had someone in his arms. “Of course,” he said now. “Lead on.”
“Thank you.” Cat opened the door so he could carry Harry in to lay him in the crib.
He did, then eased away and turned. Maggie’s bed lay between them—rumpled and unmade because Cat had already been asleep in it.
Now she stared at him across the expanse of twisted sheets. They had twisted plenty of sheets. Now their gazes locked, and all his memories of Cat in bed came flooding back.
Cat wild in his arms. Cat trembling in the throes of passion. Cat’s fingernails digging into his back, her tongue tangling with his, her body welcoming him in. But it wasn’t only the love-making he remembered. There were other memories, too, ones of waking to find Cat snuggled close with her body pressed against his, their legs entwined, her cheek on his bare chest, his lips touching her hair.
He’d always loved her hair. It always seemed to have a mind of its own. It was springy and curly and always smelled of fresh air and cinnamon. And he had relished tangling his fingers in that hair. Sometimes he moved on, stroking her soft skin and awakening her with kisses.
Sometimes Cat had awakened him, nibbling her way across his chest and nipping at his jaw line. Sometimes using her lips wasn’t enough. Her hands were never still. They had played havoc with his control, touching and caressing, making him moan.
He damn near moaned now.
Cat looked sharply away. “Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve done it.” Then she turned and walked briskly out of the room.
Yiannis stared after her. Done it? Hardly. He hadn’t done nearly enough, as far as he was concerned.
But he wasn’t going to do it, was he? She was engaged. Marrying another man. Mouth twisting, he gave those tangled sheets a fleeting touch as he followed her out. He expected she would offer him a glass of wine, a seat on the sofa, a chance to wind down and celebrate Harry’s slumber. He would settle for that.
But she had gone straight to the front door and was holding it open for him. “Thank you, Yiannis,” she said briskly. “Good night.”
He couldn’t quite hide his surprise. And she didn’t hide her eagerness to have him gone. He could see the edginess in her still, but this had nothing to do with Harry’s crying. It had, he suspected, everything to do with those few moments they’d spent looking into each other’s eyes.
So she felt it, too. The attraction. The need. The desire. She wouldn’t be so eager to get rid of him otherwise.
Even as he thought it, she opened the door wider as if doing so would get him out of it faster. Yiannis slowed his pace even more, crossing the room slowly, then stopping right in front of her so that mere inches separated them. He looked down at her, watched her lashes flutter. Noted the heightened contrast between her freckles and her skin the longer he looked. Studied the quickening rise and fall of her breasts beneath the cotton of her shirt.
“Good night, Yiannis,” she said through her teeth this time. She wasn’t looking up at him. Her gaze was aimed somewhere just past his left shoulder.
“Not yet,” he said softly.
Her eyes flicked up nervously to collide with his. “What do you mean, not yet?”
“I think a reward is in order.”
“Would you like a teaspoon of vanilla extract?”
He smiled. Then slowly, all the while watching her unblinkingly, he shook his head. “No. I want this.”
And he bent his head and kissed her.
This afternoon when he’d kissed her it had been a spur of the moment thing, instantaneous and unpremeditated. A test. A taste. And over far too soon. But it had awakened memories he’d long since buried, had been tantalizing him all day and all evening.
He’d wanted more.
Now he took it. Took her. And took his time, savoring the taste as he moved his mouth over hers, coaxed her lips to part, to open for him.
He wondered if she’d press her lips together, refuse him entrance, but she didn’t. Her mouth was both honeyed and tart—enticing and compelling—making him want more. And more and more.
Her lips parted. In surprise? In welcome? Both? He heard her breath catch in her throat, a tiny thready gasp. He felt her lips tremble. Her whole body seemed about to do the same, but if it did, he couldn’t tell.
She didn’t move at all. Just stood stock still, not holding him away, but resolutely refusing to invite him in, either. She didn’t press her lips to his, touch her tongue to his. She didn’t put her arms around him even when he slid his around her. Instead she remained almost rigid in his embrace. And while he held her, he could feel the tension vibrating through her.
“Cat?”
Her eyes closed for a long moment. And then they opened again and her eyes looked directly into his, steady and unblinking. And she pulled out of his embrace and said in a cool dismissive tone, “I think that’s reward enough.”
“Cat—”
“Good night, Yiannis.” Her jaw was set. But her freckles had exploded, flaming her cheeks. And he heard the tremor in her voice despite her coolness.
She wasn’t unmoved. He felt the primitive satisfaction that came from knowing she wasn’t as indifferent as she tried to pretend.
He smiled crookedly. “Sleep well, Cat.”
“Yes, it’s urgent,” Cat said into the phone, doing something she never did—badgering Adam to put her before his work. “Y
ou offered to come this weekend, and I’m accepting.”
Demanding, more like. She needed him here. She needed him now!
Adam sounded surprised. “I thought you had insisted you were capable of getting a dress on your own.”
“I can. But I realized how important this night is to you. So I’d like your opinion.” It was true, of course. But she didn’t need Adam’s opinion as much as she needed his presence. After last night and Yiannis’s deliberate kiss, she needed Adam desperately—to keep her focused on what mattered in her life.
“I miss you,” she told him. “A lot.”
Or she wasn’t missing him enough. Scary thought. But her judgement was obviously seriously cloudy if she’d stood still and let Yiannis kiss her that way last night. Those two quick pecks in at the hospital in the afternoon had unraveled her a bit. But they’d been nothing compared to the slow teasing temptation his kiss had offered last night.
She just thanked God she hadn’t kissed him back. She hoped.
No! She was sure she hadn’t. She hadn’t completely lost her mind.
She never should have permitted that kiss in the first place. But she’d been still dazed by the look they’d shared across that unmade bed. The memories of times in bed with Yiannis had still been dancing through her mind, even as she’d tried to get him out of the apartment. And then he’d walked right up to her, so close that she could breathe in the scent of him, so near that she could count the stubbled whiskers on his jaw as she’d tried to look past him as she’d waited for him to leave.
But he hadn’t left. He’d wanted his “reward.”
And then his lips touched hers, did their worst, and even now her heart did annoying things when she allowed herself to remember it.
She forced the memory away and tried to focus on what Adam was saying.
“Loomis asked me to play golf on Saturday. It’s important,” he explained. “Not the golf, of course,” he went on. “But being part of the group. I got in because of my dad—” Adam’s father was also a big-shot banker “—but that was the step in the door. My advancement prospects increase geometrically if I work my tail off and if I play ball with the guys. You know that.”
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