Page 37 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Catherine let out a soft exhale, and met his dark gaze. “I was told by someone to do what felt right where you were concerned.”

He chuckled. “What do you mean, someone?”

Cara.

Her therapist.

She didn’t tell him that.

“Someone,” Catherine repeated. “The problem is, Cross, every fucking thing feels good and right with you, and you can’t even help it.”

“But is it really a problem when it’s like that for us?”

Yes.

“Let me save us both some time here,” Catherine said, knowing exactly where this whole thing would take the two of them. “Let’s pretend like we danced, but don’t. Let’s act like we talked, you were arrogant, charming, and good-looking, because you are. Except we actually won’t talk at all. I didn’t bring my car; I took a cab because it’s easier. So you can drive me back to your place because you are not coming to mine. We’ll fuck, and there you go. That’s what’s going to happen anyway, Cross, because it just will. Let’s save time and nonsense, and go.”

He cocked a brow.

Catherine just stared at him. “Well?”

“All right,” he murmured.

“I don’t have to worry about Jamie-the-Chef breaking down my door in the morning, do I?” Cross asked as he shed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “Because I would hate to have to clean up blood before noon.”

Catherine’s brow furrowed in the sweetest way, and then recognition lit up in her eyes. “First, I’m not with him or dating him, so no.”

“But you were, at some point.”

“Would you like to go over the women you’ve hooked up with since we were together?” she asked with a condescending smile.

Cross tucked his hands in his pockets. “No, not particularly.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Second?”

“You’re a jealous prick.”

Only for her.

“That’s accurate.”

Catherine moved silently through the open floor of the penthouse, and her fingers drifted over the shiny, black Baby Grand piano. “This is new.”

“New to the penthouse. Not a new item.”

She shot a look over her shoulder, but he didn’t explain further.

Stepping up to the wall of windows that overlooked the outside deck and the high-rise condo across the way, Catherine kept her back turned to him as she sighed. “So you didn’t sell the place, then? I thought you had, or something.”

Cross’s brow dipped. “When, or why, did you think that?”

She waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just thinking out loud.”

He reached for the gold tinted whiskey bottle on the wet bar, but hesitated. “You don’t mind if I drink, do you?”

Catherine didn’t even turn around. “Why would I?”