by Linda Cajio
Just like the cat.
Stripped down to her undergarments, Catherine lay in the bed and stared across the darkness to the white lump perched on the bedroom chair. She had no doubt Sheba was staring back in fury.
The cat’s initial tolerance of her had vanished the moment she’d sat on the bed. Sheba had hopped off instantly with a snarl of anger. The cat had paced in front of the door, then at last had taken up her baleful watch on the small upholstered chair. So much for a friendly face, Catherine thought. Still, she wasn’t about to let the cat out for Miles to discover. She wondered if the creature was yet another investment. Sheba was clearly a champion-bred feline. Did he show her? Probably. He probably overbred her, too, to get every bit of profit he could from her. So why was she so attracted to him? And how had she managed to shut the door in his face?
Catherine stifled a moan at the thought of being alone with him in the house. She had recognized that he was leading her closer and closer to his bedroom. What would he have done? Offered her his room, then wandered in all night long “for a few things I forgot”? She could imagine what would have happened, because she did not for one minute trust her control. She knew Miles would never break his word, but he certainly wouldn’t stop her if things got out of hand. She had been too close to him all day. She had watched the way he smoothed down his tie and remembered his hands smoothing their way down her body. She had gazed at his mouth and wished he were spreading kisses on every inch of her skin. The scent of him had drifted to her often, constantly triggering a reaction deep inside her.
He had been charming and solicitous all evening. David Niven would have been envious of his perfect-gentleman performance—even down to the flowers at her place at dinner. Violets. How had he known she liked violets? It had been all she could do to sit in the same room with him after that. She had tried to remind herself that he had caused her great embarrassment over her wedding, but somehow all she could think of was that he’d done her a favor. She had known then that she needed some peace that night, or she would explode.
Even now her muscles ached with the urge to get up and walk down that hall to him. Her heart sang with the thought that she was where she belonged. Belonged …
What was wrong with her? Why was she reacting this way to him? And why had she agreed to this ridiculous captor/captive scenario? She avoided that question all day, but now, lying alone in the dark, she forced herself to face it.
She had too much pride and, if she were honest, too much fear of Miles’s power over her to come to him openly and reveal her deep attraction to him. She could have walked out of his office any time that day, and in front of all those people, he couldn’t have stopped her. More than her integrity had kept her there, though. Pure and simple, she hadn’t wanted to leave him. She was playing with fire, but deep inside she admitted that, while she didn’t want to get burned, she wouldn’t mind sharing his heat. That was why she’d agreed to the bargain, that was why she was still there. As much as she might deny it to anyone else, she could no longer lie to herself. She was falling in love with Miles Kitteridge.
From his corner of the breakfast nook, Miles watched Catherine walk hesitantly into the kitchen.
She looked oddly vulnerable in a denim skirt and red-checked blouse, like the girl next door that a boy never fooled around with—until he came back from college and fell in love with her.
He should have come back from college and fallen in love with Catherine.
The thought was disturbing. He pushed it aside, and pushed aside as well the memory of the restless night he’d spent listening for footsteps in the hallway, marking an escape; and resisting the urge to go into Sheba’s room, which would have marked him as a cad. About three in the morning, he had been willing to prove himself one. Very willing.
“Good morning,” he said.
Catherine turned around at the sound of his voice, but didn’t answer. Her expression pensive, even almost wary, she walked over to the table and sat down opposite him, at the place he’d set for her. She picked up the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, then took a sip. Finally she said, “Good morning.”
“At last.” He handed her a covered basket. “Muffin?”
“Thank you.”
“There are eggs and bacon in the warmer.” He tapped the large covered tray on the table between them. “I made them.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Interesting. By the way, Sheba made you a present upstairs.”
“She made me …?” He scowled as realization dawned.
Catherine lifted the warmer lid and dug herself out a large helping. “I’m not cleaning it up. She’s your cat.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d taken another bedroom.”
“Or if you let me go home.”
“I’ll clean it up,” he muttered.
She chuckled.
“Well, well, well,” a voice exclaimed with great satisfaction. “Does this signify a truce in the proceedings?”
Miles glanced up to see his grandmother walking into the kitchen. He set his jaw and looked over at Catherine, who was flushed the color of her blouse. There went the intimate breakfast with her, he thought, and vowed to take away his grandmother’s house key.
He rose as she reached the table. “Don’t get your gossip motor running, Grandmother. Catherine is just having a power breakfast with me about some things at Wagner Oil.”
How he wished it was different.
“And did you have a power night?” Lettice asked.
“Hardly,” he muttered, glancing over at Catherine.
“Oh, poop,” Lettice said, accepting his kiss.
Catherine giggled, thinking of Sheba’s little gift. “Actually,” she said to Lettice, “Miles is keeping me a prisoner.”
“That’s my grandson.” She patted him on the back, but it was obvious she didn’t believe a word of it. Miles didn’t know whether to laugh at his grandmother’s innocence or at Catherine’s look of disappointment, so he just smiled to himself. He doubted Catherine would say anything about Earth Angel, and he was right. She went back to her eggs.
“I stopped by on my way to a charity meeting to discuss some business with you,” Lettice said. “So can a third party join the power breakfast? I won’t be long. Mamie’s waiting for me in the car.”
Miles pulled out a chair. “Of course.”
Catherine stood as Lettice sat. “I’ll leave you two.”
“Sit,” Lettice ordered. “My business isn’t secret, and I trust you, anyway. Sit, Miles.”
He and Catherine sat at the same time.
“Very nice,” his grandmother murmured, then launched into a discussion about whether or not she should invest in a small resort a friend of hers wanted to buy.
Miles was dubious. Catherine was adamantly against it. Evidently, she knew the friend better than he did.
“I’ll tell Bunny no, then,” Lettice said, finishing her shredding of a blueberry muffin. The fruit lay in a little pile on the side of the bread plate. “Now, what did I interrupt?”
“Just a bargain Miles and I have made over my grandfather’s will,” Catherine said before he could answer.
Lettice smiled. “What bargain?”
Miles was wondering the same thing.
“Miles has some people trying to trace the lawyer Grandfather used,” Catherine said. “He’s promised to turn it over to me to file, rather than my uncle.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d need a promise for that,” Lettice said.
Neither did Miles.
Catherine shrugged, not looking at him. “I’m grateful for it, though. Now I know the codicil won’t conveniently disappear.”
Although his grandmother chuckled, Miles realized that Catherine still didn’t trust him and had brought the bargain up in front of a witness to ensure he wouldn’t renege. Anger instantly rose, and just as instantly it subsided. He supposed he would be suspicious if he were her.
Breakfast was quickly disposed of, and his grandmother left for her charity
meeting. Miles was tempted to let his housekeeper take care of Sheba’s mess, but it didn’t seem fair. He took care of it himself, holding his breath the entire time. Catherine left him to it, not quite smothering a grin. He vowed the bedroom arrangements would be radically changed that night.
“All finished?” she asked him when he joined her in the garage.
He set his briefcase and jacket on the hood of the BMW, then rolled down his sleeves. “Thank you, yes.”
“That cat really has a revenge streak, doesn’t she?”
He set his jaw. “Probably she was shut up in the room, when she needed to get out.”
“Nah.” Catherine shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “She had a look of satisfaction on her face this—”
Miles opened the car door. “Get in.”
She giggled and began to slip past him into the seat. The sound of her carefree, mischievous laugh made his heart flip over. He reached out and stopped her. That touch, her closeness, her teasing, and the night with her under his roof nearly undid him.
He pulled her to him, his mouth brushing hers lightly. “Catherine …”
“You promised.” Her voice was thin and reedy, as if she were miles away, instead of every inch of her pressed to him. Her flesh seemed to burn his fingers. His breathing was raspy. The unique perfume of her numbed his mind, wiping away everything but the desire to taste her sweetness, to feel her in his arms. It had come on him so fast. No other woman but Catherine could do this to him.
“Break my promise for me,” he whispered, her lips a scant inch from his. He had only to press lightly, and he would possess her mouth again. “You want to. I want you to.”
“No.” The denial was as threadbare as a poor man’s cloak.
“I want you with me the way you should be.” His lips not touching hers was torture. “There’s more than a bargain between us, Catherine. Just be with me.”
A faint moan erupted from the back of her throat. “You promised. Miles …”
Was his name an enticement or a protest? Virtue finally penetrated his numb brain. He lifted his head and stared at her. She was breathing as heavily as he.
“You promised,” she managed to repeat.
He cursed her iron will and let her go.
“Why, Catherine?” he asked. “You want this as much as I do.”
“Because I don’t go to bed with a man just because he’s attractive,” she answered.
“Progress,” he said in a caustic tone. “I never thought I’d hear those words from you.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then got into the car. He slammed the door shut behind her.
He was sick to death of the damn bargain.
Opportunity knocked that night for Catherine. Or rather, it rang the doorbell.
Miles glanced up from his papers when he heard it, then glanced at his watch. “I was afraid of that.”
“Of what?” Catherine asked, wondering if another dinner party was about to descend. They’d already eaten.
His housekeeper, Mrs. Truman, came into the living room. “It’s George Harmon.”
Miles set the papers aside and stood up. “Take him into the study. I’m sorry, Catherine, but this will take awhile. A deal George and I are putting together has some bugs in it.”
She hoped they were the size of swamp rats, as Earth Angel’s timetable was now bumped up by several hours. It was a small mission, but an important one, and she had wondered how she’d get away to do it. Now she knew. She smiled consolingly at Miles.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure you’ve provided plenty of prison entertainment. I’ll watch a movie. Maybe Wall Street or Pretty Woman. Both have ruthless businessmen. It’ll be like you’re right here with me.”
He didn’t appreciate her humor. “Just behave yourself, and no escaping.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she vowed, wishing he’d unbend a little. He’d been stiff with her all day, ever since the incident by the car that morning. A small part of her was relieved, but most of her was disappointed. That worried her.
“Catherine,” he said in warning.
“Miles,” she said, imitating his tone. Then she sighed. “I will not break our bargain.”
He nodded. “Good enough.”
He left the room. She sat perfectly still and listened to the men’s voices fading down the hallway.
Catherine waited impatiently for nearly twenty minutes. When she felt sure the men were deep in their deal, she was out of the room and up the stairs like a quiet bullet. Sheba didn’t even have time to blink as she raced past the cat, grabbing her purse and jacket. Miles, bless his heart, had given her back her keys that evening in a show of trust. Guilt rose in her like a tidal wave. She forced it away. He could trust her not to break her promise. She was just going to bend it a little.
Her compact was parked outside the garage. She wondered briefly if it was there because there was no more room in the garage, or if it didn’t rate with his high-class cars.
“Who cares,” she muttered.
Once inside the car, she shoved the key in the ignition. At least now she didn’t have to creep through the house in the wee hours and chance Miles discovering her. That would be dangerous.
Then again, so was this.
She shrugged and started the car.
Earth Angel was going for a little ride.
Miles heard the motor through the open study window. Something told him it wasn’t Mrs. Truman leaving for the night.
He whipped his chair out from under the desk and leaped to the window, just in time to see the back lights of Catherine’s car wind around the curve of the circular drive.
He blinked, positive he was not seeing what he was seeing.
The car lights winked at him as they disappeared into the night.
“Meeting’s over. Have to go,” he gasped, running for the door. He had a brief glimpse of George’s O of astonishment as he shot past him.
Within seconds, he was in the ’Vette and turning over the engine. Precious seconds were lost as the automatic garage door opener took its usual sweet time. He finally gave vent to a string of curses, which didn’t even begin to take the edge off his towering fury.
Catherine had broken her promise.
All bargains were off.
Catherine pulled off to the side of the street and parked her car high on the shoulder under a tree to make it look like a breakdown. She shut off the engine and sat for a moment watching the cars go by. Not a single Samaritan among them, thank goodness.
Most people passing the wooded area probably thought the trees were a small overgrown copse just within the city limits. She knew the truth. Wagner Oil was dumping drums of illegal waste chemicals in the landfill just beyond the trees.
When she finally left her car, she took a flashlight and a large sign with her, one she had made several days ago. She slipped through the trees and undergrowth, careful of the broken concrete under her feet. This was a dump all right.
Flipping on the flashlight, she checked around the site. Mostly it was concrete rubble and broken glass in a makeshift landfill. But there were also tires, bikes, and even an abandoned car. And it was dark, and she was alone. Her nerves skittered, and her stomach jumped in anxiety. Just set up the sign and get out, she told herself.
She’d actually be glad to be back at Miles’s house after this.
• • •
Miles sat in his car and stared ahead, unblinking. He was parked about two hundred yards back from Catherine. He had managed to catch up with her on the country roads by his home, and he’d kept her in sight ever since. She’d stopped at her town house, parking her car on the street instead of in her garage. He’d decided to sit tight and wait for her, and sure enough, she had come out again, carrying a sheet of wood almost as big as she was.
It wasn’t hard to guess what she was up to, and his fury had returned tenfold. She did this after the way he had trusted her, after the way he was beginning to …
Miles pulled the ’Vette completely off the road, steering the vehicle behind some bushes for protection. Then he got out of the car and followed her.
Catherine heard someone scrambling over the broken glass and concrete behind her and immediately dropped the sign she’d been trying to shove into the packed earth. It fell with a bang as she whipped around. She screamed at the noise, and at the sight of someone running toward her. She turned and tried to scramble to safety.
“Catherine!”
She stumbled and turned, her flashlight’s beam picking up a familiar person in its light.
“Miles!” she gasped, her heart racing half in relief and half in fear. “You’re supposed to be in a meeting!”
His expression was thunderous, anger radiating out of him like an overheated car. “I canceled it. We had a bargain, Catherine.”
“And I was keeping it,” she said, her breath coming hard and fast.
“This is not keeping it!” he roared.
“Miles, relax. I was just putting up the sign and then I was coming back. And keep your voice down, will you?”
She walked back to the sign, which had survived the scare, then bent down and began scraping at the iron-hard dirt, using a stick for a shovel.
“I will not keep my voice down!” he shouted, striding over to her and yanking her to her feet.
A thread of fear whipped through her at his murderous expression. Maybe she had pushed things a little too far this time. In an effort to calm him, she said, “Miles, honest, I wasn’t breaking the bargain to escape. I promised I wouldn’t, and I meant it. But I didn’t promise I wouldn’t do any more Earth Angel missions. I would never promise that, and you know it.”
“But you knew that’s what I meant, dammit!”
“Then you should have said it.”
He almost exploded. “Catherine!”
“Miles, look at these drums here.”
She shone the flashlight on several drums half buried in the dirt. Rust was already eating at the metal. He glanced at them. “So? They’re drums.”
