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As Dean watched her, he became all too aware of how close they were—a few feet of oak was all that separated them. With her preoccupied, Dean let himself look her over. He’d already noticed the way her hair spilled down her back, the softness beckoning him to reach out and smooth his palm down the length. The sweater she wore today was tight. The V-neck hinted at a delicious amount of cleavage, and the dark green shade suited her green eyes. Catherine had the prettiest emerald-green eyes he had ever seen. Almond shaped, like a cat’s eyes. No doubt about it, she was beautiful. But could he trust her? The jury was still out on that one.
“You’re staring at me,” Catherine said as she finished off the last of her cake.
“Men tend to stare at pretty women.”
Her head shot up and her eyes went wide. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”
He chuckled. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She wiped her mouth on a napkin, then stood and brought her plate to the sink. Dean sat back, content to stare at the sway of her hips. The jeans she wore today weren’t quite as tight as the others had been, but they were no less sexy. He watched her bend over to pick up the fork she’d dropped, and Dean nearly drooled at the view he was provided of her ass. When she placed the utensil in the sink and turned to lean against the counter, Dean was afforded a lovely view from the front.
“So tell me, Dean, do you often serve cake to strange women, or is this a unique experience?”
She was digging into his personal life. Dean was content to play along because he sure as hell intended to dig into hers. “With so many pretty ladies in the world?” he replied. “It’d be downright selfish of me to give all my chocolate cake to just one, don’t you think?”
Her lips kicked up at the corners. “I see your point, but is there a special one in the bunch?”
He quirked a brow. Subtlety wasn’t Catherine’s strong suit. “Are you trying to find out if I’m single, Catherine?”
Her nose shot up in the air. “Well, yeah.”
He liked how blunt she could be when the need called for it. “Yes, I’m unattached and plan to stay that way.” Linda’s deceitful face clouded his vision for a second before he managed to snuff it out. “I’ll leave marriage and babies up to my brother and sister.” No way would he ever consider going down that road again.
She moved to sit back in her chair, then leaned her arms on the table and asked, “Why? You don’t want to be a father someday?”
Red flags went up in Dean’s head. Too damn personal. He decided it was time to flip the spotlight back onto her, the way he liked it. “What about you? Do you have a man back in Atlanta?”
She shook her head, and Dean felt all the blood in his body go south at the knowledge that she wasn’t already claimed. “I haven’t had much luck in the dating department.”
“That’s hard to believe. How is it that a guy hasn’t caught you and wiggled a ring onto your dainty finger?”
She glanced down and began tapping out a rhythm on the table. “Eh, I’ve dated,” she answered, “but nothing too serious. And lately all my concentration has been on dealing with my parents’ estate.”
“Why do you do that?”
She stopped and looked up at him. “Huh?”
He pointed to her fingers. “You tap whenever you’re thinking about something or nervous.”
“Oh, that. It’s so automatic sometimes that I don’t realize I’m doing it. I’m sorry. My friend Mary says it’s annoying.”
“Not at all.” He shrugged. “I only brought it up because I was curious.”
There was a lull in the conversation, and Dean wondered where Catherine’s mind had drifted off to. It was a unique experience, sitting across the table with a woman on a Saturday afternoon and chatting. Usually if he wasn’t in bed with a woman, then he had little use for them. It was a callous attitude and he knew it, but it was one he’d been content with, until now. Somewhere over the years he’d become a complete ass.
“I took piano lessons when I was little,” she explained, yanking him out of his depressing thoughts. “My piano teacher, Mrs. Clover, wasn’t a very nice woman. I can still hear her angry voice scolding me for not hitting the proper keys. I didn’t take more than a few lessons, but that’s when I developed the tapping thing. Like a nervous tick, I suppose.”
Dean could easily picture Catherine as a young girl. Cute red pigtails and light brown freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. It pissed him off when he imagined her being reprimanded by some incompetent teacher. “Sounds like your teacher had no business being around kids.”
“Mama said pretty much the same thing at the time.” She propped her head on her fist and said, “I suppose for the most part Mrs. Clover was a decent-enough teacher, but she always made me so nervous.”
“Are you nervous with me, Catherine?”
“No.” She hesitated a moment before saying, “Yes.”
He didn’t want that. He wanted her at ease. “You don’t need to be nervous around me, sweetheart.”
She snorted. “You don’t like me very much. You’ve admitted as much. That tends to make a person nervous.”
