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But not exactly smart.
Catherine looked at the dog, his big body sprawled out on the bed and sending her curious looks every so often, then said, “Still, aren’t I allowed one stupid act in a lifetime? I’ve been under a lot of stress.” When the dog only closed his eyes and began to snore, Catherine decided she wasn’t going to get any answers standing naked in the middle of the room and talking to a Rottweiler. Might as well find something to wear.
She sighed as she glanced around the room for a chest of drawers or an old T-shirt flung over a chair. When she spotted a closet, Catherine crossed the room and pushed at the sliding door. She saw several long-sleeve shirts. Would he be upset if she helped herself? She shrugged and grabbed a black one. After she had it on she fixed the collar, and that’s when a familiar scent hit her. She tugged the shirt up to her nose and inhaled. Dean. His strong, masculine scent filled her nostrils. God, it was intoxicating.
She went into the bathroom and caught sight of her reflection in the large, rectangular mirror that sat above the counter. “Holy mother, I look like crap.”
Her skin was scraped raw from where Dean’s whiskers had abraded her skin. He’d kissed every inch of her face, and now she had a rosy-cheeked look—which was not a pretty sight for a redhead. The juncture between her thighs began to throb at the memory of his sexy mouth kissing every inch of her body. He’d been so talented with that mouth of his. She wanted to experience it again. “One-night stand, my butt,” she muttered. She’d need several weeks to get the man out of her system.
Of course if something wasn’t done with her hair, she would end up scaring the daylights out of the poor man. She never had been one of those women who woke up looking refreshed. No, usually she woke looking like something the dog had dragged in. She thought of the big Rott on the bed in the other room and laughed.
She turned on the cold water and splashed her face several times. It helped to take some of the redness out of her cheeks, but her hair was way beyond repair. She’d need a shower to fix such a pathetic mess, but she didn’t want to waste another second. She wanted to find Dean. Then maybe they could share a really long . . . good-bye kiss. Now, that wasn’t at all a pleasant thought. She shook the thought away and did her best to wipe away her leftover makeup, then used some toothpaste and her finger to scrub her teeth. Catherine tried to finger comb her hair, but if anything it got worse.
“Wow, what would Mary say if she could see you now?” Catherine asked her reflection.
At the thought of her dearest and oldest frien
d, Catherine grinned from ear to ear. If Mary could see her now she’d be floored. Catherine never strayed from the straight and narrow, whereas Mary happily kept to the curves.
Catherine left the bathroom behind and headed toward her cell phone, which she’d left on the bedside table. She picked it up and dialed. Mary answered on the first ring.
“This better damn well be good or you’re dead meat.”
“Good morning, hon,” Catherine said by way of greeting.
“Cat?” Mary asked, more alert now. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything is fine. Better than fine, in fact.”
“You did something naughty.”
Catherine slumped onto the side of the bed. “How can you possibly know?”
“You had the same tone when you stuck a tack on Christopher Blythe’s chair in the tenth grade.”
Catherine remembered the incident well. Christopher had tormented her to the point she’d lost it and decided to turn the tables and give the jerk a taste of his own medicine. “Lordy, that was probably the last time I’ve done anything wild and impulsive.”
Silence from the other end, and then, “Impulsive, huh? Spill.”
“I slept with Dean,” Catherine blurted out as she picked at the hem of Dean’s shirt.
“You did?” Mary asked in a bewildered tone. “I thought you said he hated you?”
“He still doesn’t trust me, and I’m not sure sleeping with the man was a good idea, but I don’t regret it.” She squared her shoulders as she imparted that little truth. “Not one glorious minute of it.”
Mary laughed. “You slut, you!”
“I’ll tell you more later. For now I have to try and escape with my dignity intact. This morning-after stuff is for the birds.”
“Hold your head up high, hon, and he’ll be begging for more of your hot bod.”
She laughed at the crazy notion. Deep down, Catherine worried that she may never see Dean again. That maybe he’d avoid her like the plague now that he’d gotten what he wanted from her. “I’ll call you when I get back to the hotel. Go back to sleep.”
“Oh, I intend to. Keep me posted.”
“I will.” They said their good-byes and hung up. She put the phone back on the stand and headed out of the room. When she entered the kitchen she spotted Dean sitting at the table. He didn’t have a shirt on. His shoulder muscles caught her attention, and she had to force herself not to drool. She noticed he’d pulled on a pair of navy blue striped pajama pants. He was adorable, and she wanted to cross the room and straddle him. She didn’t, of course. The bold Catherine was gone. In the bright light of day she was back to being her usual boring self. Lovely.
She shored up her nerve, cleared her throat, and stood a little straighter. “Dean?”
