Talk This Way

by Dakota Cassidy

  Della’s dark eyes grew curious.

  He pulled the bag he had from under his chair at the table and grabbed a book from it. “Yep. So, here’s the deal. You read it and I’ll read it, and we’ll discuss it. Like a book club, maybe?” He held up his copy and wiggled his eyebrows. “Looook. It has vampires. Cat says you like vampires. I hope they’re better than sex demons. Yes. I just admitted I read a book about sex demons in front of my mother.”

  Della gurgled her approval, fingering the book.

  Way to loosen up, McGrady.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re knitting? You really are the best son ever,” Cat cooed at Flynn from across his kitchen table.

  Flynn took a bite of his lo mein and wiggled his eyebrows. “I suck at it.”

  Cat held up the green yarn in the shape of...something. “I think this is a great scarf.”

  “It’s a potholder.”

  She nodded vehemently in agreement while she chewed on the corner of a fortune cookie. “I can totally see that now. For all those long, skinny dishes. Why don’t they make more potholders long and skinny, instead of boring and square?”

  Barking a laugh, Flynn shoved the containers of Chinese food out of the way. “I like supportive. It’s hot on you.” Taking her by the hand, he yanked her upward, pressing her soft curves against him and kissing her thoroughly.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked when she pulled away in that low, husky voice that made his cock strain against his jeans.

  Slipping his hands under her silky top, he nipped at her jaw. “Absolutely. Let’s make a knit hat together.”

  Cat moaned into his mouth when he captured her lips—the same way she had for the last four weeks and counting. They’d fallen into a ritual of meeting for dinner at his place or somewhere out, grabbing a movie, then making love the better part of the night.

  Neither of them was getting much sleep and his email response rate was probably down by fifty percent, but he didn’t give a damn. Each time he saw her, he wanted to see her more. Each time he touched her, he wanted to touch her again.

  “A hat?” she murmured, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. Cat never wasted time when it came to making love. Curling her fingers around his cock, she began to stroke him. “Can we do that naked?”

  Driving her skirt upward, he slipped his fingers inside her silky underwear, where he found her swollen and wet, loving the small gasp she made when he circled her clit with his finger. “We can do it any way you want it.”

  Shoving his jeans down over his hips, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Then I want to do it now—just like this.”

  Flynn put his hands at her waist and set her on the table, then pulled her panties off and chucked them in a corner. Seeing her laying sprawled out on his glass tabletop, half-naked, her lips swollen from his kiss, her hair rumpled in that sexy tousle of dark brown, made him want to growl and beat his chest.

  There was nothing he wanted to do more than drive into her, but that would make him an insensitive ass.

  Until she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and looked him square in the eye. “I said, now, McGrady.”

  Fire shot to his cock as he parted her legs and she lifted her hips, preparing to do as the lady asked.

  Flynn thrust upward hard, hissing his approval when Cat gasped, too, and in response, wrapped her legs around his waist. He slipped his hands under her ass, keeping her flush to his lower torso, creating a slow grind of heat.

  Her nipples beaded through her shirt, pushing at his chest as he held her close and rocked them. Their bodies fused, Cat clung to his back, digging her nails into it, clutching his hair. “Harder,” she demanded, the word thick and harsh.

  And he didn’t deny her, pulling back, driving upward into silky wetness until his teeth clenched.

  She cried out first, a long, raw sound, and he followed shortly thereafter, tensing when he came and Cat’s hips writhed in a familiar rhythm.

  “Wow,” she panted in his ear.

  Yeah. He thought the same thing every time they made love. Pulling her limp body upward, he carried her to the bathroom and set her on the edge of the sink, rinsing a cloth in some warm water and handing it to her.

  “What time is it?”

  Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose, loving how her cheeks were still flushed and her clothes mussed. This was his favorite Cat—the one after they’d made love. “I dunno. Why?”

  “Because I have some work to do tonight. It was last-minute and unexpected.” Again, she looked away when she said it. She always found something else to look at when she talked about work.

  Rinsing his hands, he dried them and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It can’t wait? How can we knit hats if you’re at work.”

  “It can’t wait,” she confirmed.

  What was so damn important at work that it couldn’t wait? He had a million questions about Cat, and he’d tried not to pry, but Jesus, why was where she worked such a secret?

  And why didn’t she ever invite him back to her place for dinner? Did she have a place? She had a car, and that was the most he knew about her. Was her place her car?

  “Mind telling me what you do up there in the penthouse, Cat?” He didn’t mean to sound suspicious, but they’d been dating close to a month now. He knew the size of her bra, but not what she did for a living.

  He was falling in love with this woman, and if she was doing what he thought she was doing, he’d find a way to talk her out of it.

  He’d denied it to himself, laughed it off as crazy, berated himself for even thinking it, but all roads led to one thing. That penthouse was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Women came and went all day long. Colorful women. Pretty women. Girl-next-door women.

  Instantly, Cat’s guard was up. He saw it in the way she shut down—the rigid line her spine became, the way her full mouth went flat.

  That’s when he knew he was in trouble.

  * * *

  She was lying. She didn’t have to go to work. She had to go home and process. Everything was going too well, and she was neither bored nor losing interest in Flynn. In fact, he was all she ever thought about. She wanted to be with him every second of every day.

  And tonight, when he’d made such incredible love to her, had tied all her fears up into one big knot... She wasn’t the kind of girl Flynn dated. Opinionated, living in a studio apartment with a stove that only started if you talked dirty to it.

  She hardly qualified as a career girl. She’d only been working for Landon for a month—and to boot, the job was managing a phone sex company. Flynn had loosened up a lot—he probably wasn’t that loose yet.

  And he lived in New York. They didn’t talk about it, but when Della was better, was he going to uproot his fancy city life to come live in Georgia? Probably not.

  Add to all that, she didn’t like the way Flynn had asked the question. “What’s the big deal about what I do up in the penthouse?” she asked.

  Flynn ran his fingers through his hair, his sigh grating. “Okay, I’m just going to ask you outright. You never look me in the eye when I ask about your work. In fact, you do what you’re doing right now. Avoid. So here goes, and I’m only asking because I don’t have much to go on since the coffee shop. I’m asking with absolutely no judgment. Are you an escort? Working for some drug kingpin? Doing something illegal you’re afraid you can’t get out of?”

  Cat blinked. Had he just asked her if she was a high-priced hooker? Not that there was anything wrong with being a high-priced hooker if that’s where the road led you. She just didn’t happen to be one.

  “Did you just ask me if I have sex for money?” she squeaked, sliding off the sink and stomping off to the kitchen to gather her things.

  He followed her, the quick
glimpse she caught of his eyes, hard.

  “I started with, ‘What do you do upstairs in the penthouse, Cat?’ What I want to know is why it’s such a big deal that I’m asking what your new job is. Why we don’t talk about it over dinner the way we do my work? Why you’re so afraid to share anything personal with me.”

  “No! You asked me if I had sex with men for money!”

  You’re not listening, Cat. You’re letting him draw conclusions because you’re afraid. Stop being afraid. Look at all the evidence that points to illegal activity. A penthouse where all types of women come and go from that elevator. Clearly, the person who owns it is rich. Flynn does live in a building that costs thousands of dollars for a stinking one-bedroom apartment.

  He has nothing else to go on. He didn’t call you a dirty slut or a drug dealer. Don’t be unfair. This is something you two can laugh over someday.

  “I only listed some of the illegal activities that came to mind,” he said calmly. Too calmly.

  Which only made her angry. “This is ridiculous. I don’t have to stand here and allow you to accuse me of doing something illegal!”

  “Then what do you do for a living, Cat?” he demanded. This was the Flynn from the coffee shop. Hard and angry.

  Somehow, this had become some weird bone of contention for her. As though holding back the information was her secret trump card.

  So she threw up another hurdle. “It’s none of your business what I do for a living, Flynn! You know, not all of us are rich enough to be able to afford Oakdale. My mother’s in there on a wing and a prayer right now, and it’s up to me to be sure she stays there until she’s healthy enough to leave. If I’m doing something illegal, it’s none of your damn business. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of my mother!”

  “This isn’t about my money, and you know it.”

  “No. You’re right. This is about us being two totally different people.”

  Flynn held up a finger, so arrogant, so sure. “No, this is about running away, because it’s easier. If what you’re doing isn’t illegal, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to tell me what it is. You’re running away, Cat. You’re avoiding the question because you want to find any excuse you can to call this over because you’re afraid.”

  As she stuffed her sunglasses in her purse Cat shook her head. “I’m not afraid of you, Flynn McGrady!” Yes, she was. She was so afraid she wouldn’t measure up, right now, in her mind she was in a tight panicked ball of fear.

  He took two long strides before he was in front of her, his nostrils flaring. “Yes, you are. You’re afraid you’re falling in love with me, and you’ll use any excuse to run away from it. It all leads back to that conversation we had that night. Your endless jobs, your failed relationships, the way you consider yourself irresponsible. You’re running away because you’re afraid to stick around and do the hard stuff. That’s what you’ve always been afraid of.”

  Oh, the truth. Hearing it out loud really was as painful as she’d heard it was. She backed toward the door, keeping her tears in check. “Well, you have it all figured out, don’t you, Doc McGrady? You don’t even need me here to fill in the blanks, do you? I’ll leave you to that, because it’s obvious you’ve got it covered,” she yelled.

  Cat yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind her.

  Walking away from her fears. Walking away from taking the chance Flynn would walk away first.

  Walking away from seeing what she could see.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Kit-Cat?”

  Landon pushed his way through her office door. Dusk had fallen outside, making his face appear gaunter than it had a week ago. Fear swept over her. She dropped the papers she’d been reviewing. “Boss?”

  “Why are you here so late?”

  Because I just broke up with the most amazing man for calling me a hooker.

  He didn’t call you a hooker, he asked a question all people who date ask. He didn’t ask what your bank balance was. He asked you what you did for a living.

  You blew it all out of proportion because you wanted to find a way out before he found one for you.

  Her chest felt like it had an elephant on it. “Just some stuff I wanted to look over before tomorrow. Everything okay?”

  Landon crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes grim. “Bad news, sunshine.”

  “Did Sheree call another wife of a client a dried-up prude? I told her the other night, if a spouse calls upset with their phone bill, direct the call to me.”

  Landon held out his hand to her, his eyes, usually so bright, rather dull today. “Walk outside to the terrace with me?”

  Worry began its slow simmer. “Landon, you’re scarin’ me,” she said, her feet dragging.

  Pulling open the French doors, he motioned her forward, out into the humid night air.

  Her heart began a painful beat. God, please don’t let it be what I think it is. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s back.”

  “What’s back?”

  “The cancer, Kit-Cat.”

  No. No, no, no. She had to grip the edge of the iron balcony to hold herself upright. “No,” she whispered.

  “I’m afraid so, pretty lady.”

  “More chemo?”

  Landon looked her right in the eye—dead on, and there was no fear in his gaze. “Not this time, I’m afraid. I’m end-stage now. Nothin’ to do but tie up loose ends.”

  “But you said you were better when you left Oakdale. You said no more chemo,” she whispered.

  “That’s what the doctors said, too, Kit-Cat. But I know my body. I knew what my gut was sayin’ despite what the medical profession was telling me. If I told you I was nearin’ the end, would you have come here because you wanted to finally stop hopping from job to job or because you wanted to help me? You’re always helpin’ everyone else, Cat. But what you needed to do was help yourself.”

  “I...” It all made sense now. He’d brought her to Call Girls for a reason—to show her she could stick something out for the long haul when it really counted.

  Her vision blurred with hot tears. “You did this for a reason.”

  “Aw, Cat. All those talks we had all those months while I was in and out of Oakdale, you made me happy. You never forgot to stop and talk. I’m not the only one who’s a good listener, Cat. You are, too. Do you know how important that is to some of the people at Oakdale? It might be a mighty expensive, private facility, but all the money those people have comes with a price. Sometimes, it means your family members are just waitin’ on your exit stage left. Do you have any idea what it means to have someone like you come along and stick a silly blue candle on a cupcake for your birthday when you can buy and sell the cupcake factory? Do you know how much it means when you pick up romance novels for Della or make sure Emmet Kingsley gets a good game of chess in to keep his mind sharp? Do you even know who Emmet Kingsley is?”

  Cat shook her head, the rush of her anguish pushing at her temples. “No...”

  “He’s the retired CEO of one of the biggest oil companies in the world, pretty girl. You know why you don’t know what he does? Because you don’t care about his money. You care about his emotional state. You care about hearts, feelings. He was lonely, Cat. So lonely, but you came in, and you treated him like he mattered, and that’s who I want running my company when I’m gone.”

  Gone. She couldn’t bear the word. When she didn’t respond, when the tears splashed to her feet, Landon pulled her in for a hug, resting his chin on top of her head.

  “You make people happy. You’re good with them. You’re good at organizing things. You’re good at knowin’ when someone needs a hug. The girls—some of ’em have had it real rough in life. I needed someone who’d care enough to give ’em a hug. I knew you were flounderin’ at Arlo’s. I also knew I co
uldn’t run Call Girls anymore, but the person I left in charge had to be someone who’d give a damn. The girls are my family. I wasn’t gonna just leave anyone to look after them. Some cold, impersonal jackass who could run this like a well-oiled machine, but didn’t give a damn about the cogs in those wheels? The cogs are important, Cat. Just as important as the machine. I won’t let the girls ever think they don’t matter again. So, as they say, timing is everything. I always believed I met you for a reason, Kit-Cat. The reason is this.”

  Cat wanted to scream her outrage, yell out her indignation at the unfairness of it all. Instead, she couldn’t get her tongue to move, couldn’t get past the thick knot in her throat.

  That he trusted her enough to keep this legacy of love he’d created was almost more than she could bear. Irresponsible, ex-assistant to Coco the Clown wasn’t so irresponsible after all.

  “When?”

  “Months, maybe. Can’t say for sure. Those doctors have been wrong before, you know. But this time, Kit-Cat, I feel it. Right here.” He pointed to his gut.

  “The girls. Do you want me to...” How could she even begin to say those words out loud?

  “I’ll talk to the girls tomorrow, Cat. Spend some time with them.”

  Suddenly, her words were back, with a vengeance. “I’ll help. I’ll do whatever you need. And I’ll be there with you, for as long as you need....” She couldn’t see that far ahead. She couldn’t see a day without Landon in it, but she’d do whatever he needed because he’d given her a place to belong.

  Cat felt him shake his head as she pressed her face into his chest to thwart the tears she couldn’t stop. “No, Cat. I don’t want that. As much as I love y’all, I don’t want anyone cryin’ over me. You hear? I’m goin’ off somewhere peaceful to wait it out. I’ll know when the time comes to leave Atlanta. Now, I know you don’t think that’s fair, but it’s how I wanna depart this earth.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere quiet where I can talk to my maker and hear Him talk back.”